IJNIVOF
liiMiffl
fBRARY
THE WORKS
OF THE
RIGHT REVEREND FATHER IN GOD
JOSEPH BUTLER, D. C. L.
LATE LORD BISHOP OP DURHAM.
TO WHICH IS PREFIXED,
A PREFACE, GIVING SOME ACCOUNT OF THE CHARACTER
AND WRITINGS OF THE AUTHOR.
BY SAMUEL HALIFAX, D. D.
LATE LOKD BISHOP OF GLOUCESTER.
IN TWO VOLUMES.
VOL. IL
OXFORD:
AT THE CLARENDON PRESS.
MDCCCLXXIV.
r-
i'i^
fVJ
SEEMONS
BY THE
RIGHT REVEREND FATHER IN GOD
JOSEPH BUTLER, D.C.L.
LATE
LORD BISHOP OF DURHAM. ,
>
OXFORD:
AT THE CLARENDON PRESS.
MDCCCLXXIV.
THE PREFACE.
nnHOUGH it is scarce possible to avoid judging, in
-*- some way or other, of almost every thing which
offers itself to one's thoughts; yet it is certain, that
many persons, from different causes, never exercise
their judgment, upon what comes before them, in the
way of determining whether it be conclusive, and
holds. They are perhaps entertained with some
things, not so with others ; they hke, and they dis-
like : but whether that which is jDroposed to be made
out be really made out or not ; whether a matter be
stated according to the real truth of the case, seems
to the generality of people merely a circumstance of
no consideration at all. Arguments are often wanted
for some accidental purpose : but proof as such is
what they never want for themselves ; for their own
satisfaction of mind, or conduct in life. Not to
mention the multitudes who read merely for the sake
of talking, or to qualify themselves for the world, or
some such kmd of reasons ; there are, even of the few
who read for their own entertamment, and have a
real curiosity to see what is said, several, which is
prodigious, who have no sort of curiosity to see what
is true: I say, curiosity; because it is too obvious
to be mentioned, how much that religious and
sacred attention, which is due to truth, and to the
important question, What is the rule of Hfe ? is
lost out of the world.
VI PREFACE.
For tlie sake of this whole class of readers, for they
are of different capacities, different kinds, and get
into tliis way from different occasions, I have often
wished, that it had been the custom to lay before
people nothing in matters of argument but premises,
and leave them to draw conclusions themselves ;
which, though it could not be done in all cases, might
in many.
The great number of books and papers of amuse-
ment, which, of one kind or another, daily come in
one's way, have in part occasioned, and most perfectly
fall in with and humour, this idle way of reading and
considering things. By this means, time even in
solitude is happily got rid of, without the pain of
attention : neither is any part of it more put to the
account of idleness, one can scarce forbear saying, is
spent with less thought, than great part of that which
is spent in reading.
Thus people habituate themselves to let things
pass through their minds, as one may speak, rather
than to think of them. Thus by use they become
satisfied merely with seeing what is said, without
going any further. Review and attention, and even
forming a judgment, becomes fatigue ; and to lay
any thing before them that requires it, is putting
them quite out of their way.
There are also persons, and there are at least more
of them than have a right to claim such superiority,
who take for granted, that they are acquainted with
every thing ; and that no subject, if treated in the
manner it should be, can be treated in any manner
but what is familiar and easy to them.
I 'It is true indeed, that few persons have a right to
demand attention ; but it is also true, that nothing
can be understood without that degree of it, which
the very nature of the thing requires. Now morals,
considered as a science, concerning which speculative
PREFACE. VU
difficulties are daily raised, and treated with regard
to those difficulties, plainly require a very peculiar
attention. For here ideas never are in themselves
determinate, but become so by the train of reasoning
and the j^lace they stand in ; since it is impossible that
words can always stand for the same ideas, even in
the same author, much less in different ones. Hence an
argument may not readily be apprehended, which is
different from its being mistaken ; and even caution
to avoid being mistaken may, in some cases, render it
less readily apprehended. It is very unallowable for
a work of imagination or entertainment not to be of.
easy comprehension, but may be unavoidable in a
work of another kind, where a man is not to form or
accommodate, but to state things as he finds them.
It must be acknowledged, that some of the fol-
lowing Discourses are very abstruse and difficult ; or,
if you please, obscure ; but I must take leave to add,
that those alone are judges, whether or no and how
far this is a fault, who are judges, whether or no and
how far it might have been avoided — those only who
will be at the trouble to understand what is here
said, and to see how far the things here insisted
upon, and not other things, might have been put in
a plainer manner ; which yet I am very far from
asserting that they could not.
Thus much however will be allowed, that general
criticisms concerning obscurity considered as a dis-
tinct thing from confusion and perplexity of thought,
as in some cases there may be ground for them ; so
in others, they may be nothing more at the bottom
than complaints, that every thing is not to be under-
stood with the same ease that some things are. Con-
fusion and perplexity in writing is indeed without
excuse, because any one may, if he pleases, know
whether he understands and sees through what he
is about : and it is unpardonable for a man to lay his
Vlll PREFACE.
tliouglits before others, when he is conscious that he
himself does not know whereabouts he is, or how the
matter before him stands. It is coming abroad in
disorder, which he ought to be dissatisfied to find
himself in at home.
But even obscurities arising from other causes
than the abstruseness of the argument may not be
always inexcusable. Thus a subject may be treated
in a manner, which all along supposes the reader
acquainted with what has been said upon it, both
by ancient and modern writers ; and with what is
the present state of opinion in the world concerning
such subiect. This will create a difficulty of a very
pecuhar kind, and even throw an obscurity over the
whole before those who are not thus informed; but
those who are will be disposed to excuse such a
manner, and other things of the like kind, as a
saving of their patience.
However upon the whole, as the title of Sermons
gives some right to expect what is plain and of easy
comprehension, and as the best auditories are mLxed,
I shall not set about to justify the propriety of
preaching, or under that title publishing, Discourses
so abstruse as some of these are : neither is it worth
while to trouble the reader with the account of my
doing either. He must not however impute to
me, as a repetition of the impropriety, this second
edition *, but to the demand for it.
Whether he will think he has any amends made
liim bv the followino^ illustrations of what seemed
most to require them, I myself am by no means a
proper judge.
■There are two^ways^in wliich the su bject of n iorals
m ay be treate d. One begins irom inquiringjnto th^
abstract reTationsjof_things : the otTier from a matter
^ The preface stands exactly as it did before the second edition
of the Sermons.
PREFACE. IX
of fact, namely, what the particular nature of man
is, its several parts, their economy or constitution ;
from whence it proceeds to determine what course
of life it is, which is correspondent to this whole
nature. In the former method the conclusion is
expressed thus, that vice is contrary to the nature
and reason of things : in the latter, that it is a
violation or bieaking in upon our own nature. Thus
they both lead us to the same thing, our obligations
to the practice of virtue ; and thus they exceedingly
strengthen and enforce each other. The first seems
the most direct formal proof, and in some respects
the least liable to cavil and dispute : the latter is in
a pecii1iaT_mamier__adapted to satisfy a fair mindj, "
and is more easily applicable to the several particular
relations and circumstances in life.
The following Discourses proceed chiefly in this
latter method. The three first wholly. They were W
intended to explain what is meant by the nature of ^'
man, when it is said that virtue consists in following,
and'vice in deviating from it ; and by explaining to
shew~th.aF the assertion is true. That the ancient
moralists had some inward feeling or oth er, w hich
theycEose^^ express in^^thisnmmei^^fcliat^^^^ is
l3orn~to~virtue, that it consists in following n ature,
and tliaT^ice is more contrary to this nature than
tortures or death, their works in our hands are_in:i^
stances. IN^ow a person w^o found no mystery in
this way of speaking of the ancients ; who, without
being very explicit with himself, kept to his natural
feeling, went along with them, and found within
himself a full conviction, that what they laid down
was just and true ; such an one would probably
wonder to see a point, in which he never perceived
any difficulty, so laboured as this is, in the second
and third Sermons ; insomuch perhaps as to be at a
loss for the occasion, scope, and drift of them. But
X PREFACE.
it need not be thought strange that this manner of
expression, though famihar with them, and, if not
usually carried so far, jet not uncommon amongst
ourselves, should want explaining ; since there are
several perceptions daily felt and spoken of, which
yet it may not be very easy at first view to expli-
cate, to distinguish from all others, and ascertain
exactly what the idea or perception is. The many
treatises upon the passions are a proof of this ; since
so many would never have undertaken to unfold their
several complications, and trace and resolve them
into their principles, if they had thought, what they
were endeavouring to shew was obvious to every one,
who felt and talked of those passions. Thus, though
there seems no ground to doubt, but that the
generaUty of mankind have the inward perception
expressed so commonly in that manner by the
ancient morahsts, more than to doubt whether they
have those passions ; yet it appeared of use to un-
fold that inward conviction, and lay it open in a
more explicit manner, than I had seen done ;
especially when there were not wanting persons,
who manifestly mistook the whole thing, and so
had great reason to express themselves dissatisfied
with it. A late author of great and deserved repu-
tation says, that toplace_ virtu e in follow ing nature,
is at best a loose way of talk. And he has reason to
say this, if what I think he intends to express,
though with great decency, be true, that scarce any
other sense can be put upon those words, but acting
as any of the several parts, without distinction, of a
man's nature happened most to incline him'\
►'Whoever thinks it worth while to consider this
matter thoroughly, should begin with stating to
himself exactly the idea of a system, economy, or
constitution of any particular nature, or particular
^ Rcl. of Nature Delin.. edit. 1724. pp. 22, 23.
PREFACE. XI
any thing : and he will, I suppose, find, that it is
an one or a whole, made up of several parts ; but
yet, that the several parts even considered as a
whole do not complete the idea, unless in the notion
of a whole you include the relations and respects
which those parts have to each other. Every work
both of nature and of art is a system : and as every
particular thing, both natural and artificial, is for
some use or purpose out of and beyond itself, one
may add, to what has been already brought into the
idea of a system, its conduciveness to this one or
more ends. Ijg t us instance in a watch ^ — Suppose
the several parts of it taken to pieces, and placed
apart from each other : let a man have ever so exact
a notion of these several parts, unless he considers
the respects and relations which they have to each
other, he will not have any thing like the idea of
a watch. Suppose these several parts brought
together and anyhow united : neither will he yet,
be the union ever so close, have an idea which will
bear any resemblance to that of a watch. But let
him view those several parts put together, or con-
sider them as to be put together in the manner of
a watch ; let him form a notion of the relations
which those several parts have to each other — all
conducive in their respective ways to this purpose,
shewing the hour of the day; and then he has the
idea of a watch. Thus_J ^ is with regard to the
iijjgar d frame of nm n. App etites, passions, _ aifcc-
tions, _aji d jthe principle of re flectio n^^^^considgred
merely as the sev eral parts of our inward nature,
do not at all. give us an idea of the system or
constitution of this nature ; because the constitu-
tion is formed by somewhat not yet taken into con-
sideration, namely, by the relations which these
several parts have to each other ; the chief of which
is the authority of reflection or conscience. It is
xn PKEFACE,
from considering the relations which the several
appetites and passions in the inward frame have to
each other, and, above all, the supremacy of reflec-
tion or conscience, that we get the idea of the system
or constitution of human nature. And from the
idea itself it will as fully appear, that this our
nature, i. e. constitution, is adapted to virtue, as
from the idea of a watch it appears, that its nature,
i. e. constitution or system, is adapted to measure
time. What in fact or event commonly happens is
nothing to this question. Every work of art is apt
to be out of order : but this is so far from being
according to its system, that let the disorder in-
crease, and it will totally destroy it. This is merely
by way of explanation, what an economy, system,
or constitution is. And thus far the cases are per-
fectly parallel. If we go further, there is indeed a
difference, nothing to the present purpose, but too
important a one ever to be omitted. A machine is
inanimate and passive : but we are agents. Our
constitution is put in our own power. We are
charged with it ; and therefore are accountable for
any disorder or violation of it.
Thus nothing can possibly be more contrary to
nature than vice ; meaning by nature not only the
several parts of our internal frame, but also the
constitution of it. Poverty and disgrace, tortures
and death, are not so contrary to it. Misery and
injustice are indeed equally contrary to some dif-
ferent parts of our nature taken singly : but injustice
is moreover contrary to the whole constitution of
the nature.
If it be asked, whether this constitution be really
what those philosophers meant, and whether they
would have explained themselves in this manner ;
the answer is tlie same, as if it should be asked,
whether a person, who had often used the word
PREFACE. Xlll
resentment, and felt the thing, would have explained
this passion exactly in the same manner, in which it
is done in one of these Discourses. As I have no
doubt, but that this is a true account of that passion,
which he referred to and. intended to express by
the word resentment ; so I have no doubt, but that
this is the true account of the ground of that con-
viction which they referred to, when they said, vice
was contrary to nature. And though it should be
tliought that they meant no more than that vice
was contrary to the higher and better part of our
nature ; even this implies such a constitution as
I have endeavoured to explain. For the very terms,
higher and better, imply a relation or respect of
parts to each other ; and these relative parts, being
in one and the same nature, form a constitution,
and are the very idea of it. They had a perception
that injustice was contrary to their nature, and that
pain was so also. They observed these two per-
ceptions totally different, not in degree, but in kind :
and the reflecting upon each of them, as they thus
stood in their nature, wrought a full intuitive con-
viction, that more was due and of right belonged
to one of these inward perceptions, than to the
other ; that it demanded in all cases to govern such
a creature as man. So that, upon the whole, this
is a fair and true account of what was the ground
of their conviction ; of what they intended to refer
to, when they said, virtue consisted in following
nature : a manner of speaking not loose and unde-
terminate, but clear and distinct, strictly just and
true.
Though I am persuaded the force of this con-
viction is felt by almost every one ; yet since, con-
sidered as an argument and put in words, it appears
somewhat abstruse, and since the connexion of it is
broken in the three first Sermons, it may not be
XIV PREFACE.
amiss to give the reader the whole argument here
in one view.
'Mankind has various instincts and principles of
action, as brute creatures have ; some leading most
directly and immediately to the good of the com-
munity, and some most directly to private good.
"Man has several which brutes have not ; par-
ticularly reflection or conscience, an approbation of
some prmciples or actions, and disapprobation of
others.
vBrutes obey their instincts or principles of action,
according to certain rules ; suppose the constitution
of their body, and the objects around them.
^he generahty of mankind also obey their instincts
and principles, all of them; those propensions we
call good, as well as the bad, according to the
same rules ; namely, the constitution of their bodv,
and the external circumstances which they are in.
[Therefore it is not a true representation of man-
kind to affirm, that they are wholly governed by
self-love, the love of power and sensual appetites :
since, as on the one hand they are often actuated by
these, without any regard to right or wrong ; so on
the other it is manifest fact, that the same persons,
the generality, are frequently influenced by friend-
ship, compassion, gratitude ; and even a general
abhorrence of what is base, and liking of what is fair
and just, takes its turn amongst the other motives of
action. This is the partial inadequate notion of
human nature treated of in the first Discourse : and
it is by this nature, if one may speak so, that the
world is in fact influenced, and kept in that tolerable
order, in which it is.]
V Brutes in acting according to the rules before
mentioned, their bodily constitution and circum-
stances, act suitably to theu' whole nature. [It is
however to be distinctly noted, that the reason
PREFACE. XV
why we affirm this is not merely that brutes in fact
act so; for this alone, however universal, does not
at all determine, whether such course of action be
correspondent to their whole nature : but the reason
of the assertion is, that as in acting thus they plainly
act conformably to somewhat in their nature, so,
from all observations we are able to make upon
them, there does not appear the least ground to
imagine them to have any thmg else in their
nature, which requires a different rule or course of
action.]
^Mankuid also in acting thus would act suitably
to their whole nature, if no more were to be said
of man's nature than what has been now said ; if
that, as it is a true, were also a complete, adequate
account of our nature.
'^But that is not a complete account of man's
nature. Somewhat further must be brought in to
give us an adequate notion of it ; namely, that one
of those principles of action, conscience or reflection,
compared with the rest as they all stand together
in the nature of man, plainly bears upon it marks
of authority over all the rest, and claims the abso-
lute direction of them all, to allow or forbid their
gratification : a disapprobation of reflection being in
itself a principle manifestly superior to a mere pro-
pension. And the conclusion is, that to allow no
more to this superior principle or part of our nature,
than to other parts ; to let it govern and guide only
occasionally in common with the rest, as its turn
happens to come, from the temper and cii'cum-
stances one happens to be in ; this is not to act
conformably to the constitution of man : neither
can any human creature be said to act conformably
to his constitution of nature, unless he allows to
that superior principle the absolute authority which
is due to it. And this conclusion is abundantly
XVI PREFACE.
confirmed from hence, that one may determine what
course of action the economy of man's nature re-
quires, without so much as knowing in what degrees
of strength the several principles prevail, or which of
them have actually the greatest influence.
-^The practical reason of insisting so much upon
this natural authority of the principle of reflection
or conscience is, that it seems in great measure over-
looked by many, who are by no means the worse
sort of men. It is thought sufficient to abstain from
gross wickedness, and to be humane and kind to
such as happen to come in their way. Whereas in
reality the very constitution of our nature requires,
that we bring our whole conduct before this superior
faculty ; wait its determination ; enforce upon our-
selves its authority, and make it the business of our
lives, as it is absolutely the whole business of a
moral agent, to conform ourselves to it. This is the
true meaning of that ancient precept, Reverence
thyself.
-^The not taking into consideration this authority,
which is implied in the idea of reflex approbation
or disapprobation, seems a material deficiency or
omission in lord Shaftesbury's Inquiry concerning
Virtue. He has shewn beyond all contradiction,
that virtue is naturally the interest or happiness,
and vice the misery, of such a creature as man,
placed in the circumstances which we are in this
world. But suppose there are particular exceptions ;
a case which this author was unwilling to put, and
yet surely it is to be put : or suppose a case which
he has put and determined, that of a sceptic not
convinced of this happy tendency of virtue, or being
of a contrary opinion. His determination is, that
it would be without remedy^. One may say more
explicitly, that leaving out the authority of reflex
t" Characteristics, vol. ii. p. (^ g.
PREFACE. XVll
approbation or disapprobation, such an one would
be under an obligation to act viciously ; since in-
terest, one's own happiness, is a manifest obligation,
and there is not supposed to be any other obligation
in the case. '' But does it much mend the matter,
to take in that natural authority of reflection 1
There indeed would be an obligation to virtue ; but
would not the obligation from supposed interest on
the side of vice remain 1 " If it should, yet to be
under two contrary obligations, i. e. under none at
al], would not be exactly the same, as to be under
a formal obligation to be vicious, or to be in circum-
stances in which the constitution of mans nature
plainly required that vice should be preferred. But
the obligation on the side of interest really does not
remain. For the natural authority of the principle
of reflection is an obligation the most near and
intimate, the most certain and known : whereas the
contrary obligation can at the utmost appear no
more than probable ; since no man can be certain
in any circumstances that vice is his interest in the
present world, much less can he be certain against
another : and thus the certain obligation would
entirely supersede and destroy the uncertain one ;
which yet would have been of real force without
the former.
In truth, the taking in this consideration totally
changes the whole state of the case ; and shews,
what this author does not seem to have been aware
of, that the greatest degree of scepticism which he
thought possible will still leave men under the
strictest moral obhgations, whatever their opinion
be concerning the happiness of virtue. For that
mankind upon reflection felt an approbation of what
was good, and disapprobation of the contrary, he
thought a plam matter of fact, as it undoubtedly
is, which none could deny, but from mere afiectation.
BUTLER, SERMONS, b
Xviii PREFACE.
Take in then that authority and obligation, which
is a constituent part of this reflex approbation, and
it will undeniably follow, though a man should
doubt of every thing else, yet, that he would still
remain under the nearest and most certain obliga-
tion to the practice of virtue ; an obligation impHed
in the very idea of virtue, in the very idea of reflex
approbation.
And how Httle influence soever this obligation
alone can be expected to have in fact upon man-
kind, yet one may appeal even to interest and self-
love, and ask, since from • man's nature, condition,
and the shortness of life, so httle, so very little
indeed, can possibly in any case be gained by vice;
whether it be so prodigious a thing to sacrifice that
little to the most intimate of all obligations ; and
which a man cannot transgress without being sel^
condemned, and, unless he has corrupted his nature,
without real self-dislike: this question, I say, may
be asked, even upon supposition that the prospect
of a future life were ever so imcertain.
The observation, that man is thus by his very
nature a law to himself, pursued to its just conse-
quences, is of the utmost importance ; because from
it it will follow, that though men should, through stu-
pidity or speculative scepticism, be ignorant of, or
disbelieve, any authority in the universe to punish
the violation of this law ; yet, if there should be
such authority, they would be as really liable to
punishment, as though they had been beforehand
convinced, that such punishment would follow.
For in whatever sense we understand justice, even
supposing, what I think would be very presump-
tuous to assert, that the end of divme punishment
is no other than that of civil punishment, namely,
to prevent future mischief; upon this bold suppo-
sition, ignorance or disbelief of the sanction would
by no means exempt even from this justice : because
PEEFACE. XIX
it is not foreknowledge of the punishment which
renders us obnoxious to it ; but merely violating
a known obligation.
And here it comes in one's way to take notice
of a manifest error or mistake in the author now
cited, unless perhaps he has mcautiously expressed
himself so as to be misunderstood ; namely, that
it is malice only, and not goodness, ivhich can make
us afraid^. Whereas in reality, goodness is the
natural and just object of the greatest fear to an
ill man. Malice may be appeased or satiated ;
humour may change, but goodness is a fixed, steady,
immovable principle of action. If either of the
former holds the sword of justice, there is plainly
ground for the greatest of crimes to hope for im-
punity : but if it be goodness, there can be no
possible hope, whilst the reasons of things, or the
ends of government, call for punishment. Thus
every one sees how much greater chance of impu-
nity an ill man has in a partial administration,
than in a just and upright one. It is said, that
the interest or good of the whole must he the in-
terest of the universal Being, and that he can have
no other. Be it so. This author has proved, that
vice is naturally the misery of mankind in this
world. Consequently it was for the good of the
whole that it should be so. What shadow of reason
then is there to assert, that this may not be the
case hereafter ? Danger of future punishment (and
if there be danger, there is ground of fear) no more
supposes malice, than the present feeling of punish-
ment does.
The sermon upon the character of Balaam, and
that upo7i Self -Deceit, both relate to one subject
I am persuaded, that a very great part of the
wickedness of the world is, one way or other,
d Charact. vol. i. p. 39.
b 2
XX PEEFACE.
owing to the self-partiality, self-flattery, and self-
deceit, endeavoured there to be laid open and ex-
plained. It is to be observed amongst persons of
the lowest rank, in proportion to their compass of
thought, as much as amongst men of education and
improvement. It seems, that people are capable of
being thus artful with themselves, in proportion as
they are capable of being so with others. Those
who have taken notice that there is really such a
thing, namely, plain falseness and insincerity in
men with regard to themselves, will readily see
the drift and design of these Discourses : and
nothing that I can add will explain the design of
them to him, who has not beforehand remarked,
at least, somewhat of the character. And yet the
admonitions they contain may be as much wanted
by such a person, as by others ; for it is to be noted,
that a man may be entuely possessed by this un-
fairness of mind, without having the least specu-
lative notion what the thing is.
The account given of Resentment in the eighth
Sermon is introductory to the following one upon
Forgiveness of Injuries. It may possibly have
appeared to some, at first sight, a strange asser-
tion, that injury is the only natural object of settled
resentment, or that men do not in fact resent de-
liberately any thing but under this appearance of
injury. But I must desire the reader not to take
any assertion alone by itself, but to consider the
whole of what is said upon it : because this is
necessary, not only in order to judge of the truth
of it, but often, such is the nature of language, to
see the very meaning of the assertion. Particularly
as to this, injury and injustice is, in the Sermon
itself, explained to mean, not only the more gross
and shocking instances of wickedness, but also con-
tempt, scorn, neglect, any sort of disagreeable be-
PREFACE. XXI
haviour towards a person, which he thinks other
than what is due to him. And the general notion
of injury or wrong plainly comprehends this, though
the words are mostly confined to the higher degrees
of it.
Forgiveness of injuries is one of the very few
moral obligations which has been disputed. But
the proof, that it is really an obligation, what our
nature and condition require, seems very obvious,
were it only from the consideration, that revenge
is doing harm merely for harm's sake. And as to
the love of our enemies : resentment cannot super-
sede the obligation to universal benevolence, unless
they are in the nature of the thing inconsistent,
which they plainly are not ®.
This divine precept, to forgive injuries and love
our enemies, though to be met with in Gentile
moralists, yet is in a peculiar sense a precept of
Christianity ; as our Saviour has insisted more
upon it than upon any other single virtue. One
reason of this doubtless is, that it so pecuharly
becomes an imperfect, faulty creature. But it may
be observed also, that a virtuous temper of mind,
consciousness of innocence, and good meaning
towards every body, and a strong feeling of in-
justice and injury, may itself, such is the imper-
fection of our virtue, lead a person to violate this
obligation, if he be not upon his guard. And it
may well be supj)Osed, that this is another reason
why it is so much insisted upon by him who knew
tvhat was in man.
yrhe chief design of the eleventh Discourse is to
state the notion of self-love and disinterestedness,
in order to shew that benevolence is not more un-
friendly to self-love, than any other particular affec-
tion whatever. There is a strange affectation in
6 Page 109.
XXll PREFACE.
many people of explaining away all particular affec-
tions, and representing the whole of life as nothing
but one continued exercise of self-love. Hence
arises that surprising confusion and perplexity in
the Epicureans *^ of old, Hobbes, the author of Re-
fiexions. Sentences, et Maximes Morales, and this
whole set of writers ; the confusion of calling actions
interested which are done in contradiction to the
most manifest known interest, merely for the grati-
fication of a present passion. Now all this con-
fusion might easily be avoided, by stating to our-
selves wherein the idea of self-love in general
consists, as distinguished from all particular move-
ments towards particular external objects ; the
appetites of sense, resentment, compassion, curi-
osity, ambition, and the rest". When this is done,
if the words selfish and interested cannot be parted
with, but must be applied to every thing ; yet, to
avoid such total confusion of all language, let the
distinction be made by epithets : and the first may
be called cool or settled selfishness, and the other
passionate or sensual selfishness. But the most
natural way of speaking plainly is, to call the first
only, self-love, and the actions proceeding from it,
interested : and to say of the latter, that they are
not love to ourselves, but movements towards some-
f One need only look into Torquatus's account of the Epicurean
system, iu Cicero's first book De Fiuihns, to see in what a surprising
manner this was done by them. Thus the desire of praise, and of
being beloved, he explains to be no other than desire of safety :
regard to our country, even in the most virtuous character, to be
nothing but regard to ourselves. The author of Reflexions, d-c.
Morales, says, Curiosity i)roceeds from interest or pride ; which
pride also would doubtless have been explained to be self-love.
Page 85, ed. 1725. As if there were no such passions in mankind
as desire of esteem, or of being beloved, or of knowledge. Hobbes's
account of the affections of good-will and pity arc instances of the
same kind. e Page 136, &c.
PREFACE. XXILI
what external : honour, power, the harm or good
of another : and that the pursuit of these external
objects, so far as it proceeds from these movements,
(for it may proceed from self-love^',) is no otherwise
interested, than as every action of every creature
must, from the nature of the thing, be ; for no one
can act but from a desire, or choice, or preference
of his own.
Self-love and any particular passion may be
joined together ; and from this complication, it
becomes impossible in numberless instances to de-
termine precisely, how far an action, perhaps even
of one's own, has for its principle general self-love,
or some particular passion. But this need create
no confusion in the ideas themselves of self-love
and particular passions. We distinctly discern
what one is, and what the other are : though we
may be uncertain how far one or the other in-
fluences us. And though, from this uncertamty, it
cannot but l3e that there will be different opinions
concerning mankind, as more or less governed by
interest ; and some will ascribe actions to self-love,
which others will ascribe to particular passions :
yet it is absurd to say that mankind are wholly
actuated by either ; since it is manifest that both
have their influence. For as, on the one hand,
men form a general notion of interest, some placing
it in one thing, and some in another, and have
a considerable regfard to it throuo'hout the course
of their life, which is owing to self-love ; so, on
the other hand, they are often set on work by the
particular passions themselves, and a considerable
part of life is spent in the actual gratification
of them, i. e. is employed, not by self-love, but
by the passions.
Besides, the very idea of an interested pursuit
h Sec the note, page 6.
XXIV PEEFACE.
necessarily presujDposes particular passions or appe-
tites ; since the very idea of interest or happiness
consists in this, that an appetite or aiFection enjoys
its object. It is not because we love ourselves
that we find delight in such and such objects,
but because we have particular affections towards
them. Take away these affections, and you leave
self-love absolutely nothing at all to employ itself
about i ; no end or object for it to pursue, ex-
cepting only that of avoiding pain. Indeed the
Epicureans, who maintained that absence of pain
was the highest happiness, might, consistently with
themselves, deny aU affection, and, if they had so
pleased, every sensual appetite too : but the very
idea of interest or happiness other than absence
of pain implies particular appetites or passions ;
these being necessary to constitute that interest
or hapj^iness.
The observation, that benevolence is no more
disinterested than any of the common particular
passions'^, seems in itself worth being taken notice
of; but is insisted upon to obviate that scorn,
which one sees rising upon the fxces of people
who are said to know the world, when mention
is made of a disinterested, generous, or pubhc-
spirited action. The truth of that observation
might be made appear in a more formal manner
of proof: for whoever will consider aU the possible
respects and relations which any particular affection
can have to self-love and private interest, will, I
think, see demonstrably, that benevolence is not in
any respect more at variance with self-love, than
any other particular affection whatever, but that it
is in every respect, at least, as friendly to it.
If the observation be true, it follows, that self-
love and benevolence, virtue and interest, are not
i Page 139. K Page 143, &c.
PREFACE. XXV
to be opposed, but only to be distinguished from
each other ; in the same way as virtue and any
other particular affection, love of arts, suppose, are
to be distinguished. Every thing is what it is,
and not another thing. The goodness or badness
of actions does not arise from hence, that the
epithet, interested or disinterested, may be applied
to them, any more than that any other indifferent
epithet, suppose inquisitive or jealous, may or may
not be applied to them ; not from their being at-
tended with present or future pleasure or pain ;
but from their being what they are ; namely, what
becomes such creatures as we are, what the state
of the case requires, or the contrary. Or in other
words, we may judge and determine, that an ac-
tion is morally good or evil, before we so much
as consider, whether it be interested or disin-
terested. This consideration no more comes in to
determine whether an action be virtuous, than to
determine whether it be resentful. Self-love in its
due degree is as just and morally good, as any
affection whatever. Benevolence towards particular
persons may be to a degree of weakness, and so
be blamable : and disinterestedness is so far from
being in itself commendable, that the utmost pos-
sible depravity which we can in imagination con-
ceive, is that of disinterested cruelty.
Neither does there appear any reason to wish
self-love were weaker in the generality of the
world than it is. The influence which it has
seems plainly owing to its being constant and
habitual, which it cannot but be, and not to the
degree or strength of it. Every caprice of the
imagination, every curiosity of the understanding,
every affection of the heart, is perpetually shew-
ing its weakness, by prevailing over it. Men
daily, hourly sacrifice the greatest known interest,
XXVI PREFACE.
to fancy, inquisitiveness, love, or hatred, any va-
grant inclination. The thing to be lamented is,
not that men have so great regard to their own
good or interest in the present world, for they
have not enouo-h ^ : but that thev have so little
to the good of others. And this seems plainly
owing to their being so much engaged in the
gratification of particular passions unfriendly to
benevolence, and which happen to be most preva-
lent in them, much more than to self-love. As a
proof of this may be observed, that there is no
character more void of friendship, gratitude, na-
tural affection, love to their country, common jus-
tice, or more equally and uniformly hard-hearted,
than the abandoned in, what is called, the way of
pleasure — hard-hearted and totally without feeling
in behalf of others ; except when they cannot
escape the sight of distress, and so are interrupted
by it in their pleasures. And yet it is ridiculous
to call such an abandoned course of pleasiu'e in-
terested, when the person engaged m it knows
beforehand, and goes on under the feeling and
apprehension, that it will be as ruinous to himself,
as to those who depend upon him.
Upon the whole, if the generality of mankind were
to cultivate within themselves the principle of self-
love ; if they were to accustom themselves often to
set down and consider, what was the greatest hap-
piness they were capable of attaining for themselves
in this life, and if self-love were so strong and pre-
valent, as that they would uniformly pursue this
their supposed chief temporal good, without being
diverted from it by any particular passion ; it would
manifestly prevent numberless follies and vices.
This was in a great measure the Epicurean system
of philosophy. It is indeed by no means the re-
1 Page 14.
TREFACE. XXV 11
ligious or even moral institution of life. Yet, with
all the mistakes men Avould fall into about interest,
it would be less mischievous than the extravagances
of mere appetite, will, and pleasure : for certainly
self-love, though confined to the interest of this life,
is, of the two, a much better guide than passion ™,
which has absolutely no bound or measure, but what
is set to it by this self-love, or moral considerations.
From the distinction above made between self-
love, and the several particular principles or affec-
tions in our nature, we may see how good ground
there was for that assertion, maintained by the
several ancient schools of philosophy against the
Epicureans, namely, that virtue is to be pursued as
an end, eligible in and for itself. For, if there be
any principles or affections in the mind of man
distinct from self-love, that the things those prin-
ciples tend towards, or that the objects of those
affections are, each of them, in themselves eligible,
to be pursued upon its own account, and to be rested
in as an end, is implied in the very idea of such
principle or affection J^. They indeed asserted much
higher things of virtue, and with very good reason ;
but to say thus much of it, that it is to be pursued
for itself, is to say no more of it, than may truly
be said of the object of every natural affection what-
ever.
The question, which was a few years ago disputed
in France, concerning the love of God, which was
there called enthusiasm, as it will every where by
the generality of the world ; this question, I say,
answers in religion to that old one in morals now
mentioned. And both of them are, I think, fully
determined by the same observation, namely, that
the very nature of affection, the idea itself, neces-
sarily implies resting in its object as an end.
>n Page 26. " Page 175.
XXVlll PREFACE.
I sha,ll not here add anything further to what I
have said in the two Discourses upon that most
important subject, but only this : that if we are
constituted such sort of creatures, as from our very
nature to feel certain affections or movements of
mind, upon the sight or contemplation of the meanest
inanimate part of the creation, for the flowers of
the field have their beauty ; certainly there must be
somewhat due to him himself, who is the Author and
Cause of all things ; w4io is more intimately present
to us than anything else can be, and with whom we
have a nearer and more constant intercourse, than
we can have with any creature : there must be some
m.ovements of mind and heart which correspond to
his perfections, or of which those perfections are the
natural object : and that when we are commanded to
love the Lord our God ivith all our heart, and with
all our mind, and with all our said ; somewhat more
must be meant than merely that we live in hope of
rewards or fear of punishments from him ; somewhat
more than this must be intended: though these re-
gards themselves are most just and reasonable, and
absolutely necessary to be often recollected in such
a world as this.
It may be proper just to advertise the reader, that
he is not to look for any particular reason for the
choice of the greatest part of these Discourses ; their
being taken from amongst many others, preached
in the same place, through a course of eight years,
being in great measure accidental. Neither is he
to expect to find any other connection between
them, than that uniformity of thought and design,
wliich will always be found in the writings of the
same person, when he writes with simplicity and
in earnest.
Stanhope, Sept. i6, 1729.
CONTENTS.
SERMON I. II. III.
Upon Human Nature, or Man considered as a Moral
Agent.
SERMON I. .
Upon the Social Nature of Man.
Rom. xii. 4, 5.
For as we have many members in one hody, and all members
have not the same office : so we being many are one body in
Christ, and every one members one of another Pag-e 1
SERMON II. III.
Upon the Natural Supremacy of Conscience.
Rom. ii. 14.
For when the Gentiles, which have not the law, do by nature
the things contained in the latv, these, having not the law,
are a laio to themselves 1 7. 30
SERMON IV.
Upon the Government of the Tongue.
James i. 26.
If any man among you seem to be religious, and bridleth not
his tongue, but deceiveth his otmi heart, this man's religion
is vain 39
SERMON V. VI.
Upon Compassion.
Rom. xii. 15.
Rejoice with them that do rejoice, and iveep with them that
weej) 57. 63
XXX CONTENTS,
SERMON VII.
Upon the Character of Balaam.
Numbers xxiii. 10.
Let me die the death of the righteous, and let my lad end
he like his 78
SERMON VIII. IX.
Upon Resentment, and Forgiveness of Injuries.
Matthew v. 43, 44.
Ye have heard that it hath heen said, Thou shalt love thij
neighbour, and hate thine enemy : but I say unto you, Love
your enemies, bless them that curse you, do good to them that
hate you, and pray for them which despite.fully use you and
perseciUe you 91. 103
SERMON X.
Upon Self-Deceit.
2 Samuel xii. 7.
And Nathan said to David, Thou art the man 118
SERMON XI. XII.
Upon the Love of our Neighbour.
Romans xiii. 9.
A7id if there he any other commandment, it is briefly compre-
hended in this saying, namely. Thou shalt love thy neighbour
as thyself 134.153
SERMON XIII. XIV.
Upon Piety, or the Love of God.
Matthew xxii. 37-
Thou shall love the Lord thy God with all thy heart, and tvith
all tJty soul, and loith all thy mind 172. 184
CONTENTS. XXXI
SERMON XV.
Upon the Ignorance of Man,
EccLES. viii. 16, 17.
When I ajipliecl mine heart to know wisdom, and to see the
business that is done upon the earth : then I beheld all the
work of God, that a man cannot find out the work that is done
under the sun : because though a man labour to seek it out, yet
he shall not find it ; yea further, though a wise man think to
know it, yet shall he not be able to find it 1 98
IJ SIX SERMONS
PREACHED UPON PUBLIC OCCASIONS.
SERMON I.
Preached before the Society for Propagating the
Gospel.
Matt. xxiv. 14,
And this gospel of the kingdom shall be preached in all the world,
for a witness unto all nations 215
SERMON II.
Preached before the Lord Mayor, Aldermen, and
Sheriffs, and the Governors of the several Hospitals
of the City of London.
Prov. xxii. 2.
The rich and poor meet together : the Lord is the maker of
them all 232
XXXll CONTENTS.
SERMON III.
Preached before the House of Lords, Jan. 30, 1740-41.
1 Peter ii. 16.
And not iising your liberty for a clohe of maliciousness, hit as
the servants of God 251
SERMON IV.
Preached at the Annual Meeting of the Charity
Children at Christ Church.
Prov. xxii. 6.
Train iip a child in the way he should go : and when he is old,
he %oill not depart from it 271
SERMON V.
Preached before the House of Lords on the Anniver-
sary of his Majesty's Accession to the Throne.
1 Timothy ii. 1, 2.
I exhort, that, first of all, supplications, prayers, intercessions,
and giving of thanhs, he made for all men ; for kings, and for
all that are in anthority ; that ^oe may lead a quiet and peace-
able life, in all godliness and honesty 291
SERMON VI.
Preached before the Governors of the London
Infirmary.
1 Peter iv. 8,
And above all things have fervent charity among yourselves : for
charity shall cover the multitude of sins 303
A Charge to the Cle^^gy of the Diocese of Durham,
1751 323
r
Correspondence hettveen Dr. Butler and Dr. Cla7'ke 349
SEEMON I.
UPON HUMAN NATURE.
Romans xii. 4, 5.
For as toe have many members in one body, and all memlers
have not the same office : so we, heing many^ are one body in
Christ, and every one members one of another.
^T^HE Epistles in the New Testament have all of
-■- them a particular reference to the condition
and usages of the Christian world at the time they
were written. Therefore as they cannot be tho-
roughly understood, unless that condition and those
usages are known and attended to : so further,
though they be known, yet if they be discontinued
or changed ; exhortations, precepts, and illustrations
of things, which refer to such circumstances now
ceased or altered, cannot at this time be urged in
that manner, and with that force which they were to
the primitive Crihstians. Thus the text now before
us, in its first intent and design, relates to the decent
management of those extraordinary gifts which were
then in the church''^, but which are now totally
ceased. And even as to the allusion that we are one
hody in Christ ; though what the apostle here intends
is equally true of Christians in all circumstances ;
and the consideration of it is plainly still ^n addi-
a I Cor. xii.
BUTLEE, SEEMOisS. B
2 UPON HUMAN NATURE. [SERM.
tional motive, over and above moral considerations, to
the discharofe of the several duties and offices of a
Christian : yet it is manifest this allusion must have
appeared v^ith much greater force to those, who, by
the many difficulties they went through for the
sake of their religion, were led to keep always in
view the relation they stood in to their Saviour, who
had undergone the same ; to those, who, from the
idolatries of all around them, and their ill treat-
ment, were taught to consider themselves as not of
the world in which they lived, but as a distinct
society of themselves; with laws and ends, and prin-
ciples of life and action, quite contrary to those
which the world professed themselves at that time
influenced by. Hence the relation of a Christian
was by them considered as nearer than that of affi-
nity and blood ; and they almost literally esteemed
themselves as members one of another.
It cannot indeed possibly be denied, that our being
God's creatures, and virtue being the natural law we
are born under, and the whole constitution of man
being plainly adapted to it, are prior obligations to
piety and virtue, than the consideration that God
sent his Son into the world to save it, and the mo-
tives which arise from the peculiar relation of Chris-
tians, as members one of another under Christ our
head, j However, though all this be allowed, as it
expressly is by the inspired writers; yet it is mani-
fest that Christians at the time of the revelation, and
immediately after, could not but insist mostly upon
considerations of this latter kind.
These observations shew the original particular
reference to the text ; and the peculiar force with
which the thing intended by the allusion in it must
have been felt by the primitive Christian world. They
1.] UPON HUMAN NATURE. 3
likewise afford a reason for treating it at this time in
a more general way.
The relation which the several parts or members of
the natural body have to each other and to the whole
body, is here compared to the relation whicli each
ptirticular person in society has to other particular
persons and to the whole society ; and the latter is
intended to be illustrated by the former. And if
there be a likeness between these two relations, the
consequence is obvious : that the latter shews us we
were intended to do good to others, as the former
shews us that the several members of the natural
body were intended to be instruments of good to
each other and to the whole body. But as there is
scarce any ground for a comparison between society
and the mere material body, this without the mind
being a dead unactive thing ; much less can the com-
parison be carried to any length. And since the
apostle speaks of the several members as having dis-
tinct offices, which implies the mind ; it cannot be
thought an unallowable liberty ; instead of the hody
and its memhers, to substitute the tvliole nature of
man, and all the variety of inteymal principles wliich
helong to it. And then the comparison will be
between the nature of man as respecting self, and
tending to private good, his own preservation and
happiness ; and the nature of man as having respect
to society, and tending to promote public good, the
happiness of that society. These ends do indeed
perfectly coincide ; and to aim at public and private
good are so far from being inconsistent, that they
mutually promote each other : yet in the foil owing-
discourse they must be considered as entirely distinct;
otherwise the nature of man as tending to one, or as
tending to the other cannot be compared. There can
B 2
4 UPON HUMAN NATURE. [SERM.
no comparison be made, ^Yitbo\^t considering tlie
things compared as distinct and different.
From this review and comparison of the nature of
man as respecting self, and as respecting society, it
will plainly appear, thut there are as real and the
same kind of indicatiotLS in human nature, that we
tvere made for society and to do good to our felloiv-
creatures ; as that ive tvere intended to take care
of our oivn life and health and private good : and
that the same objections lie against one of these
assertions, as against the other. For,
[First, there is a natural principle of benevolence ^ in
^ Suppose a man of learning to be writing a grave book upon human
oiature, and to shew in several parts of it that he had an insight into
the subject he was considering ; amongst other things, tlie following
one would require to be accounted for ; the appearance of benevo-
lence or good-will in men towards each other in the instances of
natural relation, and in others *. Cautious of being deceived with
outward show, he retires within himself to see exactly, what that
is in the mind of man from whence this appearance proceeds ; and,
upon deep reflection, asserts the principle in the mind to be only the
love of power, and delight in the exercise of it. Would not every
body think here was a mistake of one word for another ■? that the
philosopher was contemplating and accounting for some other human
actions, some other behaviour of man to man 1 And could any one be
thoroughly satisfied, that what is commonly called benevolence or
good-will was really the affection meant, but only by being made to
understand that this learned person had a general hypothesis, to
which the appearance of good-will could no otherwise be reconciled 1
That what has this appearance is often nothing but ambition ; that
delight in superiority often (suppose always) mixes itself with bene •
volence, only makes it more specious to call it ambition than hunger,
of the two : but in reality that pas^sion does no more account for the
whole appearances of good-will, than this appetite does. Is there not
often the appearance of one man's wishing that good to another,
which he knows himself unable to procure him ; and rejoicing in it,
though bestowed by a third person ? And can love of power any way
* Hobbes of Human Nature, c. ix. § ~.
I.] UPON HUMAN NATURE. 5
man ; which is in some degree to society, what self-
love is to the individual.] And if there be in man-
possibly come in to account for tliis desire or deliglit 1 Is there not
often the appearance of men's distinguishing between two or more
persons, preferi-ing one befoi-e another, to do good to, in cases wliere
love of power cannot in the least account for the distinction and
preference 1 For this princij)le can no otherwise distinguish between
objects, than as it is a greater instance and exertion of power to ^o
good to one rather than to another. Again, suppose good-will in the
mind of man to be nothing but delight in the exercise of power :
men might indeed be restrained by distant and accidental consider-
ation ; but these restraints being removed, they would have a dispo-
sition to, and delight in mischief as an exercise and proof of j^ower :
and this disposition and delight wouM arise from, or be the same
principle in the mind, as a disposition to, and delight in charity.
Thus cruelty, as distinct from envy and resentment, would be exactly •
the same in the mind of man as good-will : that one tends to the
happiness, the other to the misery of our fellow-creatures, is, it
seems, mei'ely an accidental circumstance, which the mind has not
the least regard to. These are the absurdities which even men
of capacity run into, when they have occasion to belie their nature,
and Vi^ill perversely disclaim that image o^God which was originally
stamped u.pon it, the traces of which, however faint, are plainly dis-
cernible upon the mind of man.
If any person can in earnest doubt, whether there be such a thing
as good-will in one man towards another ; (for the question is not
concerning either the degree or extensiveuess of it, but concerning
the affection itself :) let it be observed, that whetlier man he thus, or
otlierwise constituted, what is the inward frame in this particular, is
a mere question of fact or natural history, not pi-oveable immediately
by reason. It is therefore to be judged of and determined in the
same way other facts or matters of natural history are : by aj^pcal-
ing to the external senses, or inward perceptions, respectively, as the
matter under consideration is cognizable by one or the other : by
arguing from acknowledged facts and actions ; for a great number
of actions in the same kind, in different circumstances, and respect-
ing different objects, will prove, to a certainty, what principles they
do not, and, to the greatest probability, what principles they do pro-
ceed from : and lastly, by the testimony of mankind. Now that there
is some dcm-ee of benevolence amongst men, mav be as strongly and
6 UPON HUMAN NATUEE. [SERM.
kind any disposition to friendship ; if there be any
such thing as compassion, for compassion is momen-
tary love ; if there be any such thing as the paternal
or filial affections; if there be any affection in human
nature, the object and end of which is the good of
another, this is itself benevolence, or tlie love of
another. Be it ever so short, be it in ever so low a
degree, or ever so unhappily confined ; it proves the
assertion, and points out what we were designed for,
as really as though it were in a higher degree and
more extensive. I must, however, remind you that
though benevolence and self-love are different; though
the former tends most directly to public good, and the
latter to private: yet they are so perfectly coincident,
that the greatest satisfactions to ourselves depend
upon our having benevolence in a due degree ; and
that self-love is one chief security of our right beha-
viour towards society. It may be added, that their
mutual coinciding, so that we can scarce promote one
without the other, is equally a proof that we were
made for both.
Secondly, This will further appear, from observing
that the several ijassions and affections, whicli are
distinct^ both from benevolence and self-love, do in
plainly proved in all these ways, as it could possibly be proved, sup-
posing there was this affection in our nature. And should any one
think fit to assert, that resentment in the mind of man was absolutelv
noihingbut reasonable concern for our own safety, the falsity of this,
and what is the real nature of that passion, could be shewn in no
other ways than those in which it may be shewn, that there is sucli
a thing in some degree as real good-will in man towards man. It is
sufficient that the seeds of it be implanted in our nature by God.
There is, it is owned, much left for us to do upon our own heart
and temper ; to cultivate, to improve, to call it forth, to exercise it
in a steady, uniform manner. This is our work : this is virtue and
religion.
Every body makes a distinction between self-love, and the seve-
I.] UPON HUMAN NATURE. 7
general contribute and lead ns to imhlic good as really
as to private. It might be tliouglit too minute and
particular, and would carry us too great a length, to
distinguish between and compare together the several
passions or appetites distinct from benevolence, whose
primary use and intention is the security and good of
ral particular passions, appetites, and affections ; and yet they are
often confounded again. That they are totally different, will be seen
by any one who will distinguish between the passions and appetites
tJiemselves, and endeavouring after the means of their gratification.
Consider the appetite of hunger, and the desire of esteem : these
being the occasion both of pleasure and pain, the coolest self-love,
as well as the appetites and passions themselves, may put us upon
making use of the proper methods of obtaining that pleasure, and
avoiding that pain ; but the feelings themselves, the pain of hunger
and shame, and the delight from esteem, are no more self-love than
they are any thing in the world. Though a man hated himself, he
would as much feel the pain of hunger as he would that of the gout :
and it is plainly supposable there may be creatures with self-love in
them to the highest degree, who may be quite insensible and indif-
ferent (as men in some cases are) to the contempt and esteem of
those, upon whom their happiness does not in some further respects
depend. And as self-love and the several particular passions and
appetites are in themselves totally different ; so, that some actions
proceed from one, and some from the other, will be manifest to any
who will observe the two following very supposable cases. One man
rushes upon certain ruin for the gratification of a present desire :
nobody will call the principle of this action self-love. Suppose an-
other man to go through some laborious work upon promise of a
great reward, without any distinct knowledge what the reward will
be : this course of action cannot be ascribed to any particular pas-
sion. The former of these actions is plainly to be imputed to some
particular passion or affection, the latter as plainly to the general
affection or principle of self-love. That there are some particular
pursuits or actions concerning which we cannot determine how far
they are owing to one, and how far to the other, proceeds from this,
that the two principles are frequently mixed together, and run up
into each other. This distinction is further explained in the eleventh
sermon.
\
8 UPON HUMAN NATURE. [SEEM.
society; and the passions distinct from self-love, whose
primary intention and design is the security and
good of the individuah^. It is enough to the present
argument, that desire of esteem from others, contempt
and esteem of them, love of society as distinct from
affection to the good of it, indignation against suc-
cessful vice, that these are public affections or passions;
have an immediate respect to others, naturally lead
us to regulate our behaviour in such a manner as will
be of service to our fellow-creatures. If any or all
of these may be considered likewise as private affec-
tions, as tending to private good ; this does not hinder
them from being public affections too, or destroy the
good influence of them upon society, and their ten-
dency to public good. It may be added, that as persons
without any conviction from reason of the desirable-
ness of life, would yet of course preserve it merely
from the appetite of hunger ; so by acting merely
from regard (suppose) to reputation, without any
consideration of the good of others, men often con-
tribute to public good. In both these instances they
are plainly instruments in the hands of another, in
the hands of Providence, to carry on ends, the pre-
d If any desire to see this distinctiou and comparieon made in a
particular instance, the appetite and passion now mentioned may
serve for one. Hunger is to be considered as a private appetite ;
because the end for which it was given us is the preservation of tlie
individual. Desire of esteem is a public i)assion ; because the end
for which it was given us is to regulate our behaviour towards society.
The respect which this has to private good is as remote as the re-
spect that has to public good : and the ajipetite is no more self-love,
than the passion is benevolence. The object and end of the former
is merely food ; the object and end of the latter is merely esteem :
but the latter can no more be gi-atified, without contributing to the
good of society; than the former can be gratified, without coiitii-
buting to the presei'vatioii oFUk' individual.
I.] UPON HUMAN NATURE. 9
servation of the individual and good of society,
which thev themselves have not in their view or
intention. The sum is, men have various appetites-,'
passions, and particular affections, quite distinct both) ;i^
from self-love and from benevolencej: all of these hava
a tendency to promote both public and private good,
and may be considered as respecting others and our-
selves equally and in common : but some of them
seem most immediately to respect others, or tend to
public good ; others of them most immediately
to respect self, or tend to private good : as the
former are not benevolence, so the latter are not self-
love : neither sort are instances of our love either to
ourselves or others ; but only instances of our Maker's
care and love both of the individual and the species,
and proofs that he intended we should be instruments
of good to each other, as well as that we should be
soto ourselves.
Thirdly, There is a principle of reflection in men,
by which they distinguish between, approve and
disapprove their own actions. We are plainly con- \
stituted such sort of creatures as to reflect upon our
own nature. The mind can take a view of what
passes within itself, its propensions, aversions, pas-
sions, affections, as respecting such objects, and in
such degrees ; and of the several actions consequent
thereupon. In this survey it approves of one, dis-
approves of another, and towards a third is affected
in neither of these ways, but is quite indifferent.
This principle in man, by which he approves or clis- ^
approves his heart, temper, and actions, is con-
science; for this is the strict sense of the word, though
sometimes it is used so as to take in more. And that
this facultv tends to restrain men from doino- mischief
to each other, and leads them to do good, is too manifest
lO UrON HUMAN NATUEE. [SEKM.
to need being insisted upon. Thus a parent has the
affection of love to his children: this leads him to
take care of, to educate, to make due provision for
them ; the natural affection leads to this : but the
reflection that it is his proper business, what belongs
to him, that it is right and commendable so to do ;
this added to the affection becomes a much more
settled principle, and canies him on through more
labour and difficulties for the sake of his chil-
dren, than he would undergo from that affection
alone, if he thought it, and the course of action it
led to, either indifferent or criminal. This indeed is
impossible, to do that which is good and not to
approve of it ; for which reason they are frequently
not considered as distinct, though they really are :
for men often approve of the actions of others, which
they will not imitate, and likewise do that which
they approve not. It cannot possibly be denied,
that there is this princijDle of reflection or conscience
in human nature. Suppose a man to relieve an in-
nocent person in great distress ; suppose the same
man afterwards, in the fury of anger, to do the greatest
mischief to a person who had given no just cause of
offence; to aggravate the injury, add the circumstan-
ces of former friendship, and obligation from the
injured person; let the man who is supposed to have
done these two different actions, coolly reflect upon
them afterwards, without regard to their consequences
to himself: to assert that any common man would be
affected in the same way towards these different ac-
tions, that he would make no distinction between
them, but approve or disapprove them equally, is too
glaring a falsity to need being confuted. Tliere is
therefore this principle of reflection or conscience in
mankind. It is needless to comjxirc the respect it
I.] UPON HUMAN NATUEE. 11
has to private good, with the respect it has to public ;
since it plainly tends as much to the latter as to the
former, and is commonly thought to tend chiefly to
the latter. This faculty is now mentioned merely as
another part in the inward frame of man, pointing-
out to us in some degree what we are intended for,
and as what will naturally and of course have some
influence. The particular place assigned to it by
nature, what authority it has, and how great influence
it ought to have, shall be hereafter considered.
From this comparison of benevolence and self-love,
of our public and private afiections, of the courses of
life they lead to, and of the principle of reflection or
conscience as respecting each of them, it is as manifest,
that we luere made for society, and to promote the
happiness of it ; as that we ivere intended to take
care of our oivn life, and health, a7id p7^ivate good.
And from this whole review must be given a diffe-
rent draught of human nature from what we are often
presented with. Mankind are by nature so closely
united, there is such a correspondence between the
inward sensations of one man and those of another,
that disgrace is as much avoided as bodily pain, and
to be the object of esteem and love as much desired
as any external goods : and in many particular cases
persons are carried on to do good to others, as the
end their affection tends to and rests in ; and manifest
that they find real satisfaction and enjoyment in this
course of behaviour. There is such a natural princi-
ple of attraction in man towards man, that having
trod the same tract of land, having breathed in the
same climate, barely having been born in the same
artificial district or division, becomes the occasion of
contracting acquaintances and familiarities many years
after : for any thing may serve the pur23ose. Thus
*»
12 UPON HUMAN NATURE. [SERM,
relations merely nominal are sought and invented,
not by governors, but by the lowest of the people ;
^vhich are found sulBScient to hold mankind top'ether
in little fraternities and copartnerships : weak ties
indeed, and what may afford fund enough for ridicide,
if they are absurdly considered as the real principles
of that union : but they are in truth merely the
occasions, as any thing may be of any thing, upon
which our nature carries us on according to its own
previous bent and bias ; which occasions therefore
would be notlmig at all, were there not this prior
disposition and bias of nature. Men are so much
one body, that in a peculiar manner they feel for
each other, shame, sudden danger, resentment, honour,
prosperity, distress ; one or another, or all of these,
from the social nature in general, from benevolence,
upon the occasion of natural relation, acquaintance,
protection, dependence ; each of these being distinct
cements of society. And therefore to have no re-
straint from, no regard to others in our behaviour, is
the speculative absurdity of considering ourselves as
single and independent, as having nothing in our
nature which has lespect to our fellow-creatures,
reduced to aclion anipractice. And this is the
same absurdity, as to suppose a hand, or any part
to have no natural respect to any other, or to the
whole body.
But allowing all this, it may be asked, " Has not
man dispositions and principles within, wdiich lead
him to do evil to others, as well as to do good ?
Whence come the many miseries else, which men are
the authors and instruments of to each other ?" These
questions, so far as they lelate to the foregoing dis-
course, maybe answered by asking, Has not man also
dispositions and principles witliin, w^hich lead him to
I.] UPON HUMAN NATURE. 13
do evil to himself, as well as good 1 Whence come the
many miseries else, sickness, pain, and death, which
men are instruments and authors of to themselves '?
It may be thought more easy to answer one of
these questions than the other, but the answer to
both is really the same ; that mankind have un- .
governed passions which they will gratify at any rate,
as well to the injury of others, as in contradiction to
known private interest :_[but that as there is no such
thing as self-hatred, so neither is there any such
thing as ill-will in one man towards another, emula-
tion and resentment being away ; whereas there is
plainly benevolence or good-will : there is no such
thing as love of injustice, oppression, treachery, in-
gratitude ; but only eager desires after such and
such external goods; which, according to a very
ancient observation, the most abandoned woidd
choose to obtain by innocent means, if they were as
easy, and as effectual to their end: that even emula-
tion and resentment, by any one who will consider
what these passions really are in nature*^, will be
found nothing to the purpose of this objection :
and that the principles and passions in the mind of
e Emulation is merely the desire and hope . of equality with, or
superiority over others, with whom we compare ourselves. There
does not appear to be any other grief in the natural passion, but
only that want which is implied in desire. However this maybe so
strong as to be the occasion of great grief. To desire the attainment
of this equality or superiority by the particidar means of others, being
brought down to our own level, or below it, is, I think, the distinct
notion of envy. From whence it is easy to see, tliat the real end,
which the natural passion emulation, and which the unlawful one
envy aims at, is exactly the same ; namely, that equality or supe-
riority : and consequently, that to do mischief is not the end of envy,
but merely the means it makes use of to attain its end. As to re-
sentment, see the eighth sermon.
14 UPON HUMAN NATURE. [SERM.
man, which are distinct both from self-love and be-
nevolence, primarily and most directly lead to right
behaviour with regard to others as well as himself,
and only secondarily and accidentally to what is evil.
Thus, though men, to avoid the shame of one villiany,
are sometimes guilty of a greater, yet it is easy to see,
that the original tendency of shame is to prevent
the doing of shameful actions ; and its leading men
to conceal such actions when done, is only in con-
sequence of their being done ; i.e. of the passion's
not having answered its first end.
If it be said, that there are persons in the world,
who are in great measure without the natural
affections towards their fellow-creatures : there are
likewise instances of persons without the common
natural affections to themselves : but the nature of
man is not to be judged of by either of these, but
by what appears in the common world, in the bull<:
of mankind.
I am afraid it would be thought very strange, if
to confirm the truth of this account of human nature,
and make out the justness of the foregoing com-
parison, it should be added, that, from what appears,
I men in fact as much and as often contradict that
part of their nature which respects self, and which
leads them to their oivn private good and happiness;
as they contradict that pa?^^ of it which respects
society, di\\(\. tends io puhlic good? that there are as
few persons, who attain the greatest satisfaction and
enjoyment which they might attain in the present
world ; as who do the greatest good to others which
they might do ; nay, that there are as few who can
be said really and in earnest to aim at one, as at
the other. Take a survey of mankind : the world
in genera], the good and bad, almost without except-
I,] UPOX HUMAN NATURE. 15
tion, equally are agreed, that were religion out
of the case, the happiness of the present life would
consist in a manner wholly in riches, honours, sensual
gratifications"; insomuch that one scarce hears a re-
flection madfe upon prudence, life, conduct, but upon
this supposition. Yet on the contrary, that persons
in the greatest affluence of fortune are no happier
than such as have only a competency ; that the cares
and disappointments of ambition for the most part
far exceed the satisfactions of it^; as also the miserable
intervals of intemperance and excess, and the many
untimely deaths occasioned by a dissolute course of
life : these things are all seen, acknowledged, by every
one acknowledged ; but are thought no objections
against, though they expressly contradict, this univer-
sal principle, that the happiness of the present life
consists in one or other of them. Whence is all ^
[this absurdity and contradiction 1 Is not the middle
way obvious 1 Can any thing be more manifest, than
thatlhe happiness of hfe consists in these possessed
and "enjoyed only to a certain degree ; that to pursue
them beyond this degree, is always attended with
more inconvenience than advantage to a man's self,
and often with extreme misery and unhappiness.
Whence then, I say, is all this absurdity and contra-
diction ? Is it really the result of consideration in man-
kind, how they may become most easy to themselves,
most free from care, and enjoy the chief happiness
attainable in this world "? Or is it not manifestly
owing either to this, that they have not cool and
reasonable concern enough for themselves to consider
wherein their chief happiness in the present life con-
sists ; or else, if they do consider it, that they will
not act conformably to what is the result of that
consideration : i. e. reasonable concern for themselves,
^r^aW'
16 UPON HUMAN NATUKE. [SERJVI.
or cool self-love is prevailed over by passion and
appetite. So that from what appears, there is no
ground to assert that those principles in the nature
of man, which most directly lead to promote the
good of our fellow-creatures, are more generally or in
a greater degree violated, than those, which most di-
rectly lead us to promote our own private good and
happiness.
The sum of the whole is plainly this. ; The nature
of man considered in his single capacity, and with
respect only to the present world, is adapted and
leads him to attain the greatest happiness he can
for himself in the present world. The nature of man
considered in his public or social capacity leads him
to a light behaviour in society, to that course of life
which we call virtue. Men follow or obey their
nature in both these capacities and respects to a
certain degree, but not entirely : their actions do not
come up to the whole of what their nature leads
them to in either of these capacities or respects :
and they often violate their nature in both, i. e. as
they neglect the duties they owe to their fellow-
creatures, to which their nature leads them ; and are
injurious, to which their nature is abhorrent ; so
there is a manifest negligence in men of their real
happiness or interest in the present world, when that
interest is inconsistent with a present gratification ;
for the sake of which they negligently, nay, even
knowingly, are the authors and instruments of their
own misery and ruin. Thus they are as often unjust
to themselves as to others, and for the most part are
equally so to both by the same actions.
SERMON 11, m.
UPON HUMAN NATURE.
KojiANS ii. 14.
For when the Gentiles, ivhich have not the law, do hy niiture
the things contained in the law, these, having not the law,
are a law unto themselves.
A S speculative truth admits of different kinds
-^-^ of proof, so likewise moral obligations may be
shewn by different methods. *5f the real nature of any
creature leads him and is adapted to such and such
purposes only, or more than to any other ; this is a
reason to believe the author of that nature intended it
for those purposes. Thus there is no doubt the eye
was intended for us to see with. And the more com-
plex any constitution is, and the greater variety of 23arts
there are which thus tend to some one end, the stronger
is the proof that such end was designed. However,
when the inward frame of man is considered as any
guide in morals, the utmost caution must be used that
none make peculiarities in their own temper, or any
thing which is the effect of particular customs, though
observable in several, the standard of what is com-
mon to the species ; and above all, that the highest
principle be not forgot or excluded, that to which
belongs the adjustment and correction of all other
inward movements and affections : which principle
BUTLER, SERMONS. C
18 UPON HUMAN NATURE. [SERM.
will of course have some influence, but which being
in nature supreme, as shall now be shewn, ought to
preside over and govern all the rest. The difficulty
of rightly observing the two former cautions ; the
appearance there is of some small diversity amongst
mankind with respect to this faculty, with respect to
their natural sense of moral good and evil ; and the
attention necessary to survey with any exactness
what passes within, have occasioned that it is not so
much agreed what is the standard of the internal
nature of man, as of his external form. Neither is
this last exactly settled. Yet we understand one
another when we speak of the shape of a human
body : so likewise we do when we speak of the heart
and inward principles, how far soever the standard is
from being exact or precisely fixed. There is there-
fore ground for an attempt of shewing men to them-
selves, of shewing them what course of life and
behaviour their real nature points out and would
lead them to. Now obligations of virtue shewn, and
motives to the practice of it enforced, from a review
of the nature of man, are to be considered as an
appeal to each particular person's heart and natural
conscience : as the external senses are appealed to for
the proof of things cognizable by them. Since then
our inward feelings, and the perceptions we receive
from our external senses, are equally real ; to argue
from the former to life and conduct is as little liable
to exception, as to argue from the latter to absolute
speculative truth. A man can as little doubt whether
his eyes were given him to see with, as he can doubt
of the truth of the science of o;ptics, deduced from
ocular experiments. And allowmg the inward feeling,
shame ; a man can as little doubt whether it was
given him to prevent his doing shameful actions, as
II.] UPON HUMAN NATURE. 19
he can doubt whether his eyes were given him to
guide his steps. ^ And as to these inward feehngs
themselves ; that thej are real, that man has in his
nature passions and affections, can no more be ques-
tioned, than that he has external senses. Neither
can the former be wholly mistaken ; though to a
certain degree liable to greater mistakes than the
latter.
There can be no doubt but that several propensions
or instincts, several principles m the heart of man,
carry him to society, and to contribute to the happi-
ness of it, in a sense and a manner in which no inward
princijDle leads him to evil. These principles, pro-
pensions, or instincts which lead him to do good, are
approved of by a certain faculty within, quite distinct
from these propensions themselves. All this hath
been fully made out in the foregoing discourse.
But it may be said, " What is all this, though true,
to the purpose of virtue and religion "? these require,
not only that we do good to others when we are led
this way, by benevolence or reflection, happening
to be stronger than other principles, passions, or
appetites ; but likewise that the whole character be
formed upon thought and reflection ; that every
action be directed by some determinate rule, some
other rule than the strength and prevalency of any
prmciple or passion. Wliat sign is there in our
nature (for the inquiry is only about what is to be
collected from thence) that this was intended by its
Author 1 Or how does so various and fickle a temper
as that of man appear adapted thereto 1 It may
indeed be absurd and unnatural for men to act with-
out any reflection ; nay, without regard to that par-
ticular kind of reflection which you call conscience;
because this does belong to our nature. For as there
c 2
20 UPON HUMAN NATURE. [SERM.
never was a man but who approved one place, pros-
pect, building, before another : so it does not appear
that there ever was a man who would not have ap-
proved an action of humanity rather than of cruelty ;
interest and passion being quite out of the case. But
interest and passion do come in, and are often too
strong for and prevail over reflection and conscience.
Now as brutes have various instincts, by which they
are carried on to the end the Author of their nature
intended them for : is not man in the same condition;
with this difference only, that to his instincts (i. e.
appetites and passions) is added the principle of
reflection or conscience '? And as brutes act agreeably
to their nature, in following that principle or par-
ticular instmct which for the present is strongest in
them : does not man likewise act agreeably to his
nature, or obey the law of his creation, by following
that principle, be it passion or conscience, which for
the present happens to be strongest in him 1 Thus
different men are by their particular nature hurried
on to pursue honour or riches or pleasure : there are
also persons whose temper leads them in an un-
common degree to kindness, compassion, doing good
to their fellow-creatures : as there are others who are
given to suspend their judgment, to weigh and con-
_sider things, and to act upon thought and reflection,
hei every one then quietly follow his nature; as
passion, reflection, appetite, the several parts of it,
happen to be strongest : but let not the man of
virtue take upon him to blame the ambitious, the
covetous, the dissolute ; since these equally with
him obey and follow their nature. Thus, as in some
cases we follow our nature in doing the works con-
tained in the law, so in other cases we follow nature
in doing contrary.""!
Jl.] UPON HUMAN NATUllB. 21
• Now all this licentious tallc entirely goes upon a
supposition, that men follow their nature in the same
sense, in violating the known rules of justice and
honesty for the sake of a present gratification, as they
do in following those rules when they have no temp-
tation to the contrary. And if this were true, that
could not be so which St. Paul asserts, that men are
hy nature a laio to themselves. If by following nature
were meant only acting as we please, it would indeed
be ridiculous to speak of nature as any guide in
morals : nay the very mention of deviating from
nature would be absurd ; and the mention of follow-
ing it, when spoken by way of distinction, would
absolutely have no meaning. For did ever any one
act otherwise than as he pleased '? And yet the
ancients speak of deviating from nature as vice ; and
of following nature so much as a distinction, that
according to them the perfection of virtue consists
therein. So that language itself should teach people
another sense to the words followmg nature, than
barely acting as we please. Let it however be
observed, that though the words human nature are
to be explained, yet the real question of this discourse
is not concerning the meaning of words, any other
than as the explanation of them may be needful to
make out and explain the assertion, that every man
is naturally a laiv to himself, that eveoy one may find
vjithin himself the rule of right, and obligations to
folloiv it. This St. Paul affirms in the words of the
text, and this the foregoing objection really denies
by seeming to allow it. And the objection will
be fully answered, and the text before us explained,
by observing that nature is considered in different
views, and the word used in different senses; and
by shewing in what view it is considered, and in
22 UPON HUMAN NATURE. [SERM.
what sense the word is used, when mtended to
express and signify that which is the guide of life,
that by which men are a law to themselves. I say,
the explanation of the term will be sufficient, because
from thence it will appear, that in some senses of the
word nature cannot be, but that in another sense it
roanifestly is, a law to us.
/ [ I. By nature is often meant no more than some
principle in man, without regard either to the kind
or degree of it. Thus the passion of anger, and the
affection of parents to their children, would be called
equally 7iatural. And as the same person hath often
contrary principles, wliich at the same time draw
contrary ways, he may by the same action both follow
and contradict his nature in this sense of the word ;
he may follow one passion and contradict another.
II. Nature is frequently spoken of as consisting in
those passions which are strongest, and most influence
the actions ; which being vicious ones, mankind is in
this sense naturally vicious, or vicious by nature. '
Thus St. Paul says of the Gentiles, ivlio were dead in
trespasses and sins, and ivalked according to the
spirit of disobedience, that they ivere by 7iature the
children of ivrath ^. They could be no otherwise
childreii of ivixtth by nature, than they were vicious
by nature.
Here then are two different senses of the word
7iature, in neither of which men can at all be said to
be a law to themselves. They are mentioned only to
be excluded ; to prevent their being confounded, as
the latter is in the objection, with another sense of it,
which is now to be inquired after and explained.
III. The apostle asserts, that the Gentiles do by
NATURE the thi7igs contained in the laiv. Nature is
a Ephes. ii. 3.
II.] UPON HUMAN NATURE. 23
indeed here put by way of distinction from revelation,
but yet it is not a mere negative. He intends to ex-
press more than that by which they did not, that by
which tliey did the works of the law; namely, by
nature. It is plain the meaning of the word is not
the same in this passage as in the former, where it is
spoken of as evil ; for in this latter it is spoken of as
good ; as that by which they acted, or might have
acted virtuously. What that is in man by which he
is naturally a laiv to himself, is explained in the ■
following words : Wliich sheiv the ivork of the law )
ivritten in their hearts, their consciences also hearing J /
witness, and their thoughts the mean while accusing ^
or else excusing one another. If there be a distinc-
tion to be made between the loorhs ivritten in their
hearts, and the loitness of conscience ; by the former
must bemeant tke_ natural disposition to kindness
and compassion, to do what is of good report, to
which this apostle often refers : that part of the
nature of man, treated of in the foregoing discourse,
which with very little reflection and of course leads
him to society, and by means of which he naturally
acts a just and good part in it, unless other passions
or interest lead him astray. Yet since other passions,
and regards to private interest, which lead us (though
indirectly, yet they lead us) astray, are themselves in
a degree equally natural, and often most prevalent ;
andsince we have no method of seeing the particular
degrees in which one or the other is placed in us by
nature ; it is plain the former, considered merely as
natural, good and right as they are, can no more be a
law to us than the latter. But .jthere is a superior _^
principle of reflection or conscience in every man,
"whicli distinguishes between the internal principles
of his heart, as well as his external actions : which
24 ~ UPON HUMAN NATURE. [SERM.
passes judgment upon himself and them; pronounces
determinately some actions to be in themselves just,
right, good ; others to be in themselves evil, wrong,
unjust : which, without being consulted, without
being advised with, magisterially exerts itself, and
/ approves or condemns him the doer of them accord-
'; ingiy: and which, if 'not forcibly stopped, naturally
_ and always of course goes on to anticipate a higher
land more effectual sentence, which shall hereafter
second and affirm its own. But this part of the
office of conscience is beyond my present design ex-
plicitly to consider. It is by this faculty, natural to
man, that he is a moral agent, that he is a law to
himself : but this faculty, I say, not to be considered
merely as a principle in his heart, which is to have
some influence as well as others ; but considered as a
faculty in kind and in nature supreme over all others,
and which bears its own authority of being so.
This prerogative, this natural supremacy, of the
faculty which surveys, approves or disapproves the
several affections of our mind and actions of our
lives, being that by which men are a law to tliem-
I selves, their conformity or disobedience to which law
of our nature renders their actions, in the highest
\ and most proper sense, natural or unnatural ; it is fit
^ it be further explained to you : and I hope it will be
so, if you will attend to the following reflections.
/ Man may act according to that principle or inclina-
•^jtion which for the present happens to be strongest,
and yet act in a way disproportionate to, and violate
his real proper nature. Suppose a brute creature by
any bait to be allured into a snare, by which he is
destroyed. He plainly followed the bent of his
nature, leading him to gratify his appetite : there is
an entire correspondence between his whole nature
II.] UPON HUMAN NATURE. 25
and such an action : such action therefore is natural.
But suppose a man, foreseeing the same danger of
certain ruin, should rush into it for the sake of a
present gratification ; he in this instance would follow
his strongest desire, as did the brute creature : but
there would be as manifest a disproportion, between
the nature of a man and such an action, as between
the meanest work of art and the skill of the greatest
master in that art: which disproportion arises, not
from considering the action singly in itself, or in its
consequences; but from comparison of it with the
nature of the agent. And since such an action is
utterly disproportionate to the nature of man, it is in
the strictest and most proper sense unnatural; this
word expressing that disproportion. Therefore in-
stead of the words disproi^ortionate to his nature, the
word unnatural may now be put ; this being more
familiar to us : but let it be observed, that it stands
for the same thing precisely.
Now what is it which renders such a rash action
unnatural 1 Is^it that he went against the principle
X' of reasonable and cool self-love, considered merely as
a part of his natui'e ? No : for if he had acted the
contrary way, he would equally have gone against a
principle, or part of his nature, namely, passion or
appetite. But to deny a present appetite, from fore- ^
sight that the gratification of it would end in im-
mediate ruin or extreme misery, is by no means an
unnatural action : whereas to contradict or go against
cool self-love for the sake of such gratification, is so
in the instance before us. Such an action then being
unnatural; and its being so not arising from a man's
going agamst a principle or desire barely, nor in
going against that prmciple or desire which happens
for the present to be strongest ; it necessarily follows.
26 UPON HUMAN" NATURE. [SERM.
that there must be some other difference or distinc-
tion to be made between these two principles, passion
and cool self-love, than what I have yet taken notice
of. And this difference, not being a difference in
strength or degree, I call a difference in nature and
in hind. And since, in the mstance still before tis,^if
passion prevails over self-love, the consequent action
is unnatural ; but if self-love prevails over passion,
the action is natural : it is manifest that self-love is in
human nature a superior principle to passion. This
may be contradicted without violating that nature ;
but the former cannot. So that, if we will act con-
formably to the economy of man's nature, reasonable
self-love must govern. Thus, without particular con-
sideration of conscience, we may have a clear concep-
tion of the superior nature of one inward principle to
another; and see that there really is this natural
superiority, quite distinct from degrees of strength
and prevalency.
Let us now take a view of the nature of man, as
consisting partly of various appetites, passions, affec-
tions, and partly of the principle of reflection or
conscience ; leaving quite out all consideration of the
different degrees of strength, in which either of them
prevail, and it will further appear that there is this
natural superiority of one inward principle to another,
and that it is even part of the idea of reflection or
conscience.
Passion or appetite implies a direct simple tendency
towards such and such objects, without distinction of
the means by which they are to be obtained. Con-
sequently it will often happen there "^vill be a desire
of particular objects, in cases where they cannot be
obtained without manifest injury to others. Reflec-
tion or conscicDce comes in, and disapproves the
II.] UPON HUMAN NATURE. 27
pursuit of them in these circumstances ; but the
desire remains. Which is to be obeyed, appetite or
reflection'? Cannot this question be answered, from
the economy and constitution of human nature
merely, without saying which is strongest 1 Or need
this at all come into consideration 1 Would not the -
question be intelligibly and fully answered by saying,
that the principle of reflection or conscience being
compared with the various appetites, passions, and
aflections in men, the former is manifestly superior
and chief, without regard to strength 1 And how
often soever the latter happens to prevail, it is mere
usurpation : the former remains in nature and in
kind its superior; and every instance of such pre-
valence of the latter is an instance of breaking in
upon and violation of the constitution of man. '
All this is no more than the distinction, which
every body is acquainted with, between mere power
and authority : only instead of being intended to
express the difference between what is possible, and
what is lawful in civil government ; here it has been
shewn applicable to the several principles in the
mind of man. Thus that principle, by which we
survey, and either approve or disapprove our own
heart, temper, and actions, is not only to be con-
sidered as what is in its turn to have some influence ;
which may be said of every passion, of the lowest
appetites : but likewise as being superior ; as from .
its very nature manifestly claiming superiority over
all others: insomuch that you cannot form a notion
of this faculty, conscience, without taking in judg-
ment, direction, superintendency. This is a con-
stituent part of the idea, that is, of the faculty itself:
and, to preside and govern, from the very economy
and constitution of man, belongs to it. Had it
28 UPO^^ HUMAN NATUKE. [SERM.
strength, as it had right ; had it power, as it had
manifest authority, it would absolutely govern the
world.
This gives us a further view of the nature of man ;
shews us what course of life we were made for : not
only that our real nature leads us to be influenced in
some degree by reflection and conscience; but like-
wise in what degree we are to be influenced by it, if
we will fall in with, and act agreeably to the consti-
tution of our nature : that this faculty was placed
within to be our proper governor; to direct and
regulate all under principles, passions, and motives
of action. This is its right and oflSce : thus sacred is
its authority. And how often soever men violate
and rebelhously refuse to submit to it, for supposed
interest which they cannot otherwise obtain, or for
the sake of passion which they cannot otherwise
gratify; this makes no alteration as to the natural
rigJit and office of conscience.
Let us now turn this whole matter another way,
and suppose there was no such thing at all as this
natural supremacy of conscience ; that there was no
distinction to be made between one inward principle
and another, but only that of strength ; and see what
would be the consequence.
Consider then what is the latitude and compass of
the actions of man with regard to himself, his fellow-
creatures, and the Supreme Being 1 What are their
bounds, besides that of our natural power ? With
respect to the two first, they are plainly no other
than these : no man seeks miserv as such for himself;
and no one unprovoked does mischief to another for
its own sake. For in every degree within these
bounds, mankind knowingly from passion or wanton-
ness bring ruin and misery upon themselves and
II.] UPON HUMAN NATURE, 29
otliers. And impiety and profaneness, I mean, what
every one would call so who beUeves the being of
God, have absolutely no bounds at all. Men
blaspheme the Author of nature, formally and in
words renounce their allegiance to their Creator.
Put an instance then with respect to any one of
these three. Though we should suppose profane
swearing, and in general that kind of impiety now "
mentioned, to mean nothing, yet it implies wanton
disregard and irreverence towards an infinite Being,
our Creator; and is this as suitable to the nature of
man, as reverence and dutiful submission of heart
towards that Almighty Being ? Or suppose a man
guilty of parricide, with all the circumstances of
cruelty which such an action can admit of. This
action is done in consequence of its principle being
for the present strongest : and if there be no differ-
ence between inward principles, but only that of
strength ; the strength being given, you have the
whole nature of the man given, so far as it relates to
tliis matter. The action plainly corresponds to the
principle, the principle being in that degree of
strength it was : it therefore corresponds to the
whole nature of the man. Upon comparing the
action and the whole nature, there arises no dispro-
portion, there appears no unsuitableness between
them. Thus the murder of a father and the nature
of man correspond to each other, as the same nature
and an act of filial duty. If there be no difference
between inward principles, but only that of strength ;
we can make no distinction between these two
actions, considered as the actions of such a creature ;
but in our coolest hours must approve or disapprove
them equally: than which nothing can be reduced to
a greater absurdity.
30 UPON HUMAN NATURE. [SEEM.
SERMON III.
. THE natural supremacy of reflection or conscience
being thus established ; we may from it form a
distinct notion of what is meant by hummi nature^
when virtue is said to consist in following it, and vice
in deviating from it.
As the idea of a civil constitution implies in it
united strength, various subordinations, under one
direction, that of the supreme authority; the different
strength of each particular member of the society not
commg into the idea ; whereas, if you leave out the
subordination, the union, and the one direction, you
destroy and lose it : so reason, several appetites,
passions, and affections, prevaihng in different degrees
of strength, is not that idea or notion of human
nature ; but that nature consists in these several
principles considered as having a natural respect to
each other, in the several passions being naturally
subordinate to the one superior principle of reflection
or conscience. Every bias, instmct, propension with-
in, is a natural part of our nature, but not the whole :
add to these the superior faculty, whose office it is to
adjust, manage, and preside over them, and take in
this its natural superiority, and you complete the
idea of human nature. And as in civil government
the constitution is broken in upon, and violated by
power and strength prevailing over authority; so
the constitution of man is broken in upon and
violated by the lower faculties or principles within
prevailing over that which is in its nature supreme
over them all. Thus, when it is said by ancient
writers, that tortures and death are not so contrary
III.] UPON HUMAN NATURE. 31
to human nature as injustice ; by this to be sure is
not meant, that the aversion to the former in man-
kind is less strong and prevalent than their aversion
to the latter : but that the former is only contrary
to our nature considered in a partial view, and which
takes in only the lowest part of it, that which we
have in common with the brutes ; whereas the latter
is contrary to our nature, considered in a higher
sense, as a system and constitution contrary to the
whole economy of man^.
t> Every man in his physical nature is one individual single agent.
He has likewise properties and principles, each of which may be con-
sidered separately, and without regard to the respects which they
have to each other. ISTeither of these are the nature we are taking
a view of But it is the inward frame of man considered as a system
or constitution: whose several parts are united, not by a physical
principle of individuation, but by the respects they have to each other ;
the chief of which is the subjection which the ajopetites, passions, and
particular affections have to the one supreme principle of reflection
or conscience. The system or constitution is formed by and consists
in these respects and this subjection. Thus the body is a system or
constitution: so is a tree : so is every machine. Consider all the
several pai-ts of a tree without the natural respects they have to each
other, and you have not at all the idea of a tree ; but add these
respects, and this gives you the idea. The body may be impaired
by sickness, a tree may decay, a machine be out of order, and yet
the system and constitution of them not totally dissolved. There is
plainly somewhat which answers to all this in the moral constitution
of man. Whoever will consider his own nature, will see that the
several appetites, passions, and particular afi'ections, have different
respects amongst themselves. They are restraints upon, and are in
a proportion to each other. This proportion is just and perfect,
when all those under principles are perfectly coincident Avith con-
science, so far as their nature permits, and in all cases under its
absolute and entire direction. The least excess or defect, the least
alteration of the due proportions amongst themselves, or of their coin-
cidence with conscience, though not proceeding into action, is some
degree of disorder in the moral constitutioa But perfection, though
32 UPON HUMAN NATURE. [SERM.
And from all these things put together, nothing
can be more evident, than that, exclusive of revelation,
man cannot be considered as a creature left by his
Maker to act at random, and live at large up to the
extent of his natural powei*, as passion, humour, wil-
fuhiess, happen to carry him ; which is the condition
brute creatures are in: but that y^rom his make, con-
stitution, or nature, he is in the strictest and most
2)roper sense a law to himself. He hath the rule of
right within : what is wanting is only that he honestly
attend to it.
The inquiries which have been made by men of
leisure after some general rule, the conformity to, or
disagreement from which, should denominate our
actions good or evil, are in many respects of great
service. Yet let any plain honest man, before he
engages in any course of action, ask himself, Is this I
am going about right, or is it wrong "? Is it good, or
is it evil 1 I do not in the least doubt, but that this
question would be answered agreeably to truth and
virtue, by almost any fair man in almost any circum-
stance. Neither do there appear any cases which
look like exceptions to this ; but those of superstition,
and of partiality to ourselves. Superstition may
perhaps be somewhat of an exception: but partiality
to ourselves is not ; this being itself dishonesty. For
plainly intelligible and unsupposable, was never attained by any man.
If the higher principle of reflection maintains its place, and as much
as it can corrects that disorder, and hinders it from breaking out
into action, this is all that can be expected in such a creature as
man. And though the appetites and passions have not their exact
due proportion to each other ; though tliey often strive for mastery
with judgment or reflection : yet, since the superiority of this prin-
ciple to all others is the chief respect which forms the constitution,
so far as this superiority is maintained, the character, the man, is
good, worthy, virtuous.
II,] UPON HUMAN NATURE. 33
a man to judge that to be the equitable, the
moderate, the right part for liim to act, which he
would see to be hard, unjust, oppressive in another ;
this is plain vice, and can proceed only from great '
unfairness of mind.
But allowing that mankind hath the rule of right
within himself, yet it may bo asked, " What obliga-
tions are we under to attend to and follow if?" I
tmswer : it has been proved that man by his nature
is a law to himself, without the particular distinct
consideration of the positive sanctions of that law ;
the rewards and punishments which we feel, and
those which from the light of reason we have ground
to believe, are annexed to it. The question then
carries its own answer along with it. Your obliga-
tion to obey this law, is its being the law of your
nature. That your conscience approves of and attests
to such a course of action, is itself alone an obliga-
tion. (jConscience does not only offer itself to shew
us the way we should walk in, but it likewise carries j
its own authority with it, that it is our natural *
guide ; , the guide assigned us by the Author of our
nature : it therefore belongs to our condition of being,
it is our duty to walk in that path, and follow this
guide, without looking about to see whether we may
not possibly forsake them with impunity.
However, let us hear what is to be said against
obeving this law of our nature. And the sum is no
more than this : " Why should we be concerned
about any thing out of and beyond ourselves 1 If
we do find within ourselves regards to others, and
restraints of we know not how many different kinds ;
yet these being embarrassments, and hindering us
from going the nearest way to our own good, why
BUTLER, SEBMONS. D
34 UPON HUMAN NATURE. [SERM.
should we not endeavour to suppress and get over
tliem \ "
Thus people go on with words, which, when ap-
plied to human nature, and the condition in which it
is placed in this world, have really no meaning. For
does not all this kind of talk go upon supposition,
that our happiness in this world consists in some-
what quite distinct from regard to others ; and that
it is the privilege of vice to be without restraint or
confinement ? Whereas, on the contrary, the enjoy-
ments, in a manner all the common enjoyments of
life, even the pleasures of vice, depend upon these
regards of one kind or another to our fellow-creatures.
Throw off all regards to others, and we sho.uld be
quite indifferent to infamy and to honour ; there
could be no such thing at all as ambition ; and scarce
any such thing as covetousness ; for we should like-
wise be equally indifferent to the disgrace of poverty,
the several neglects and kinds of contempt which
accompany this state ; and to the reputation of
riches, the regard and respect they usually procure.
Neither is restraint by any means peculiar to one
course of life ; but our very nature, exclusive of con-
science and our condition, lays us under an absolute
necessity of it. We cannot gain any end whatever
without being confined to the proper means, which is
often the most painful and uneasy confinement. And
in numberless instances a present appetite cannot be
gratified without such apparent and immediate ruin
and misery, that the most dissolute man in the world
chooses to forego the pleasure, rather than endure
the pain.
Is the meaning then, to indulge those regards to
our fellow-creatures, and submit to those restraints,
which upon the whole are attended with more satis-
III.] UPON HUMAN NATURE. 35
faction than uneasiness, and get over only those
which bring more uneasiness and inconvenience than
satisfaction ? " Doubtless this was our meaning."
You have changed sides then. Keep to this ; be
consistent with yourselves ; and you and the men of
virtue are in general perfectly agreed. But let us
take care and avoid mistakes. Let it not be taken
for granted that the temper of envy, rage, resent-
ment, yields greater delight than meekness, forgive-
ness, compassion, and good-will : especially wheni.it
is acknowledged that rage, envy, resentment, are in
themselves mere misery; and the satisfaction arising
from the indulgence of them is little more than relief
from that misery ; whereas the temper of compassion
and benevolence is itself delightful ; and the in-
dulgence of it, by doing good, affords new positive
delight and enjoyment. Let it not be taken for
' granted, that the satisfaction arising from the reputa-
tion of riches and power, however obtained, and
from the respect paid to them, is greater than the
satisfaction arising from the reputation of justice,
honesty, charity, and the esteem which is universally
acknowledged to be their due. And if it be doubtful
which of these satisfactions is the greatest, as there
are persons who think neither of them very con-
siderable, yet there can be no doubt concerning
ambition and covetousness, virtue and a good mind,
considered in themselves, and as leading to different
courses of life ; there can, I say, be no doubt, which
temper and which course is attended with most
peace and tranquillity of mind, which with most per-
plexity, vexation, and inconvenience. And both the
virtues and vices which have been now mentioned,
do in a manner equally imply in them regards of one
kmd or another to our fellow-creatures. And with
D 2
36 UPON HUMAN NATURE. [SERM.
respect to restraint and confinement : whoever will
consider the restraints from fear and shame, the
dissimulation, mean arts of concealment, servile com-
pliances, one or other of which belong to almost
every course of vice, will soon be convinced that the
man of virtue is by no means upon a disadvantage
in this respect. How many instances are there in
which men feel and own and ciy aloud under the
chains of vice with which thev are enthralled, and
which yet they will not shake off! How many
instances, in which persons manifestly go through
more pains and self-denial to gratify a vicious passion,
than would have been necessary to the conquest of
it ! To this is to be added, that when virtue is
become habitual, when the temper of it is acquired,
what was before confinement ceases to be so, by
becoming choice and delight. Whatever restraint
and guard upon ourselves may be needful to unlearn
any unnatural distortion or odd gesture ; yet, in all
propriety of speech, natural behaviour must be the
most easy and unrestrained. \i is manifest that, in
the common course of life, there is seldom any in-
consistency between our duty and what is called
interest : it is much seldomer that there is an incon-
sistency between duty and what is really our present
interest ; meaning by interest, happiness and satis-
faction. Self-love then, though confined to the
interest of the present world, does in general
perfectly coincide with virtue ; and leads us to one
and the same course of life. But, whatever exceptions
there are to this, which are much fewer than they are
commonly thought, all shall be set right at the final
distribution of things. : It is a manifest absurdity to
suppose evil ])re vailing finally over good, under the
conduct and administration of a j^erfect mind. '
III.] UPON HUMAN NATURE. 37
The whole argument, which I have been now
insisting upon, may be thus summed up, and given
you in one view. The nature- of mfin is adapted to —
some course of action or other. Upon comparing
some actions with this nature, they appear suitable
and correspondent to it ; from comparison of otlier
actions with the same nature, there arises to our
view some unsuitablencss or disproportion. ~ The
correspondence of actions to the nature of the agent
renders them natural : then' disproportion to it, un-
natural.! That an action is correspondent to the
nature of the agent, does not arise from its being
agreeable to the principle which happens to be the
strongest : for it may be so, and yet be quite dis-
proportionate to the nature of the agent. The cor-
respondence therefore, or disproportion, arises from
somewhat else. This can be nothing but a difference
in nature and kind, altogether distinct from strength,
between the inward principles. Some then are in
nature and kind superior to others. _And the corre-
spondence arises from the action being conformable to
the higher principle; and the unsuitablencss from its
being contrary to it. !^£asonable self-love and con-
science are the chief or superior principles in the
nature of man : because an action may be suitable to
this nature, though all other principles be violated ;
but becomes unsuitable, if either of those are. J^on-
science and self-love, if we understand our true
happiness, always lead us the same way. Duty and
interest are perfectly coincident j for the most part
in this world, but entirely and in every instance if
we take in the future, and the whole ; this being
implied in the notion of a good and perfect adminis-
tration of things. Thus they who have been so
wise in their generation as to regard only their own
38 UPON HUMAN NATURE.
supposed interest, at the expense and to the injury
of others, shall at last find, that he who has given up
all the advantages of the present world, rather than
jdolate his conscience and the relations of hfe, has
infinitely better provided for himself, and secured his
own interest and happiness.
SEEMON IV.
UPON THE GOVERNMENT OF THE TONGUE.
James i. 26.
If any man among you seem to be religious, and hridleth not
Ids tongue, hut deceiveth his own heart, this man''s religion
is vain.
FT^HE translation of this text would be more de-
-*- terminate by being more literal, thus : If any
man among you seemeth to he religious, not hridling
his tongue, hut deceiving his own heart, this man's
religion is vain. This determines that the words,
hut deceiveth his own heart, are not put in opposition
to, seemeth to he religious, but to, hridleth not his
tongue. The certain determinate meaning of the
text then being, that he who seemeth to be religious,
and hridleth not his tongue, but in that particular
deceiveth his own heart, this man's religion is vain ;
we may observe somewhat very forcible and ex-
pressive in these words of St. James. As if the
apostle had said, No man surely can make any
pretences to religion, who does not at least believe
that he hridleth his tongue : if he puts on any
appearance or face of religion, and yet does not
govern liis tongue, he must surely deceive himself
in that particular, and think he does : and whoever
is so unhappy as to deceive himself in this, to
40 UrON THE GOVERNMENT [SERM.
imagine he keeps that unruly facuhy in clue sub-
jection, when indeed he does not, whatever the other
part of his life be, his religion is vain ; the govern-
ment of the tongue being a most material restraint
which virtue lavs us under : without it no man can
be truly religious.
In treating upon this subject, I will consider.
First, What is the general vice or fault here
referred to : or what disposition in men is supposed
in moral reflections and precepts concerning bridling
the tongue.
Secondly, When it may be said of any one, that he
has a due government over himself in this respect.
I. Now the fault referred to, and the disposition
supposed, in precepts and reflections concerning the
government of the tongue, is not evil-speaking from
malice, nor lying or bearing false witness from in-
direct selfish designs. The disposition to these, and
the actual vices themselves, all come under other
subjects. The tongue may be employed about, and
made to serve all the purposes of vice, in tempting
and deceiving, in perjury and injustice. But the
thing here supposed and referred to, is talkativeness :
a disposition to be talking, abstracted from the con-
sideration of what is to be said ; with very little or
no regard to, or thought of doing, either good or
harm. And let not any imagine this to be a slight
matter, and that it deserves not to have so great
weight laid upon it ; till he has considered, what
evil is implied in it, and the bad effects which follow
from it. It is perhaps true, that they who are
addicted to this folly would choose to confine them-
selves to trifles and indifferent subjects, and so intend
only to be guilty of being impertinent : but as they
cannot go on for ever talking of nothing, as common
IV.] OF THE TONGUE. 41
matters will not afford a sufficient fund for perpetual
continued discourse : when subjects of this kind are
exhausted, thej will go on to defamation, scandal,
divulging of secrets, their own secrets as w^ell as
those of others, any thing rather than be silent.
They are plainly hurried on in the heat of their talk
to say quite different things from what they first
intended, and which thev afterwards wish unsaid :
or improper things, which they had no other end in
saying, but only to afford employment to their
tongue. And if these people expect to be heard and
regarded, for there are some content merely with
talking, they will invent to engage your attention ;
and, when they have heard the least imperfect hint
of an affair, they will out of their own head add the
circumstances of time and place, and other matters to
make out their story, and give the appearance of
probability to it : not that they have any concern
about being believed, otherwise than as a means of
being heard. The thing is, to engage your atten-
tion ; to take you up wholly for the present time :
what reflections will be made afterwards, is in truth
the least of their thoughts. And further, when
persons, who indulge themselves in these liberties of
the tongue, are in any degree offended with another,
as little disgusts and misunderstandings will be, they
allow themselves to defame and revile such an one
without any moderation or bounds ; though the
offence is so very slight, that they themselves would
not do, nor perhaps wish him an injury in any other
way. And in this case the scandal and revilings are
chiefly owing to talkativeness, and not bridling their
tongue ; and so come under our present subject.
The least, occasion in the world will make the
humour break out in this particular way, or in
42 UPON THE GOVERNMENT [SERM.
another. It is like a torrent, which must and will
flow ; but the least thing imaginable will first of all
give it either this or another direction, turn it into
this or that channel : or like a fire ; the nature of
which, when in a heap of combustible matter, is to
spread and lay waste all around ; but any one of a
thousand little accidents will occasion it to break out
first either in this or another particular part.
The subject then before us, though it does run up
into, and can scarce be treated as entirely distinct
from all others ; yet it needs not be so much mixed
or blended with them as it often is. Every faculty
and power may be used as the instrument of pre-
meditated vice and wickedness, merely as the most
proper and efiectual means of executing such designs.
But if a man, from deep malice and desire of revenge,
should meditate a falsehood with a settled design to
ruin his neighbour's reputation, and should with
great coolness and deliberation spread it ; nobody
would choose to say of such an one, that he had no
government of his tongue. A man may use the
faculty of speech as an instrument of false witness,
who yet has so entire a command over that faculty,
as never to speak but from forethought and cool
design. Here the crime is injustice and perjury:
and, strictly speaking, no more belongs to the present
subject, than peijury and injustice in any other way.
But there is such a thing as a disposition to be
talking for its own sake ; from which j^ersons often
say any thing, good or bad, of others, merely as
a subject of discourse, according to the particular
temper they themselves happen to be in, and to pass
away the present time. There is likewise to be
observed in persons such a strong and eager desire
of engaging attention to what they say, that they
IV.] OF THE TONGUE. 43
will speak good or evil, truth or otherwise, merely
as one or the other seems to be most hearkened to :
and this, though it is sometimes joined, is not the
same with the desire of being thought important
and men of consequence. There is in some such a
disposition to be talking, that an offence of the
shghtest kind, and such as would not raise any other
resentment, yet raises, if I may so speak, the re-
sentment of the tongue, puts it into a flame, into
the most ungovernable motions. This outrage, when
the person it respects is present, we distinguish in the
lower rank of people by a peculiar term : and let it
be observed, that though the decencies of behaviour
are a little kept, the same outrage and virulence,
indulged when he is absent, is an offence of the same
kind. But not to distinguish any further in this
manner : men run into faults and follies, which
cannot so properly be referred to any one general
head as this, that they have not a due government
over their tongue.
And this unrestrained volubility and wantonness
of speech is the occasion of numberless evils and
vexations in life. It begets resentment in him who
is the subject of it ; sows the seed of strife and
dissension amongst others ; and inflames little dis-
gusts and ofiences, which if let alone would wear
away of themselves : it is often of as bad effect upon
the good name of others, as deep envy or malice:
and, to say the least of it in this respect, it destroys
and perverts a certain equity of the utmost import-
ance to society to be observed; namely, that praise
and dispraise, a good or bad character, should always
be bestowed according to desert. The tongue used
in such a licentious manner is like a sword in the
hand of a madman ; it is employed at random, it can
44 UPON THE GOVEENMENT [SERM.
scarce possibly do any good, and for the most part
does a world of mischief; and implies not only great
folly and a trifling spirit, bnt great viciousness of
mind, great indifference to truth and falsity, and to
the reputation, welfare, and good of others. So
much reason is there for what St. James says of the
tongue % It is a fire, a ivorld of iniquity, it defileth
theivhole body, setteth on fire the course of nature, and
is itself set on fire of hell. This is the faculty or
disposition which we are requu^ed to keep a guard
upon : these are the vices and follies it runs into,
when not kept under due restraint.
II. Wherein the due government of the tongue
consists, or when it may be said of any one in a
moral and religious sense that he hridleth his tongue,
I come now to consider.
The due and proper use of any natural faculty or
power, is to be judged of by the end and design for
which it was given us. The chief purpose, for which
the faculty of speech was given to man, is plainly
that we might communicate our thoughts to each
other, in order to carry on the affairs of the world ;
for busmess, and for our improvement in knowledge
and learning. But the good Author of our nature
designed us not only necessaries, but likewise en-
joyment and satisfaction, in that being he hath
graciously given, and in that condition of life he
hath placed us in. There are secondary uses of our
faculties : they administer to delight, as well as to
necessity : and as they are equally adapted to both,
there is no doubt but he intended them for our
gratification, as well as for the support and con-
tinuance of our being. The secondary use of speech
is to please and be entertaining to each other in
a Chap. iii. ver. 6.
IV.] OF THE TONGUE. 45
conversation. This is in every respect allowable
and riolit : it unites men closer in alliances and
friendships ; gives lis a fellow-feeling of the pros-
perity and unliappiness of each other ; and is in
several respects serviceable to virtue, and to pro-
mote good behaviour in the world. And provided
there be not too much time spent in it, if it were
considered only in the way of gratification and de-
light, men must have strange notion of God and
of religion, to think that he can be offended Avitli it,
or that it is any way inconsistent with the strictest
virtue. But the truth is, such sort of conversation,
though it has no particular good tendency, yet it has
a general good one : it is social and friendly, and
tends to promote humanity, good-nature, and civility.
As the end and use, so likewise the abuse of
sjDeech, relates to the one or other of these ; either
to busmess or to conversation. As to the former;
deceit in the management of business and affairs
does not properly belong to the subject now before
us : though one may just mention that multitude,
that endless number of words, with which business
is perplexed ; when a much fewer would, as it
should seem, better serve the purpose : but this
must be left to those who understand the matter.
The government of the tongue, considered as a sub-
ject of itself, relates chiefly to conversation ; to that
kind of discourse which usually fills up the time
spent in friendly meetings, and visits of civility.
And the danger is, lest persons entertain themselves
and others at the expense of their wisdom and their
virtue, and to the injury or offence of their neigli-
bour. If they wdll observe and keep clear of these,
they may be as free and easy and unreserved as they
can desire.
46 UPON THE GOVERNMENT [SEEM,
The cautions to be given for avoiding these
clangers, and to render conversation innocent and
agreeable, fall under the following particulars :
silence ; talking of indifferent things ; and, which
makes up too great a part of conversation, giving of
characters, speaking well or evil of others.
The Wise Man observes, that there is a time to speak,
and a time to keep silence. One meets with people in
the world, who seem never to have made the last of
these observations. And yet these great talkers do
not at all speak from their having any thing to say,
as every sentence shews, but only from their in-
clination to be talking. Their conversation is
merely an exercise of the tongue : no other human
faculty has any share in it. It is strange these
persons can help reflecting, that unless they have in
truth a superior capacity, and are in an extraordinary
manner furnished for conversation ; if they are enter-
taining, it is at their own expense. Is it possible, that
it should never come into people's thoughts to sus-
pect, whether or no it be to their advantage to shew
so very much of themselves 'i that you would alto-
gether hold your peace, and it should he your ivisdom^.
Remember Hkewise there are persons who love fewer
words, an inoffensive sort of people, and who deserve
some regard, though of too still and composed
tempers for you. Of this number was the Son of
Sirach : for he plainly speaks from experience, when
he says, As hills of sand are to the steps of the aged,
so is one of many ivorcls to a quiet 'man. But one
would think it should be obvious to every one, that
when they are in company with their superiors of
any kind, in years, knowledge, and experience ; when
'^ Job xiii.
IV.] OP THE TONGUE. 47
proper and useful subjects are discoursed of, which
they cannot bear a part in ; that these iire times
for silence : when they should learn to hear, and be
attentive ; at least in their turn. It is indeed a very
unhappy way these people are in : they in a manner
cut themselves out from all advantage of conversa-
tion, except that of being entertained with their own
talk : their business in coming into company not
being at all to be informed, to hear, to learn ; but to
display themselves ; or rather to exert their faculty,
and talk without any design at all. And if we con-
sider conversation as an entertainment, as somewhat
to unbend the mind ; as a diversion from the cares,
the business, and the sorrows of life ; it is of the very
nature of it, that the discourse be mutual. This, I
say, is implied in the very notion of what we dis-
tinguish by conversation, or being in company.
Attention to the continued discourse of one alone
grows more painfid often, than the cares and business
we come to be diverted from. He therefore who
imposes this upon us is guilty of a double offence ;
arbitrarily enjoining silence upon all the rest, and
likewise obliging them to this painful attention.
I am sensible these things are apt to be passed
over, as too little to come into a serious discourse ;
but in reality men are obliged, even in point of
morality and virtue, to observe all the decencies of
behaviour. The greatest evils in life have had their
rise from somewhat, which was thought of too little
importance to be attended to. And as to the matter
we are now upon, it is absolutely necessary to be
considered. For if people will not maintain a due
government over themselves, in regarding proper
times and seasons for silence, but ivill be talking;
they certainl}^, whether they design it or not at first.
48 UPON THE GOVEENMENT [SERM.
will go on to scandal and evil-speaking, and divulging
secrets.
If it were needful to say any thing further, to
persuade men to learn this lesson of silence ; one
might put them in mind, how insigniticant they
render themselves by this excessive talkativeness :
insomuch that, if they do chance to say any thing
which deserves to be attended to and regarded, it is
lost in the variety and abundance which they utter
of another sort.
The occasions of silence then are obvious, and one
would think should be easily distinguished by every
body : namely, when a man has nothing to say ; or
nothing, but what is better unsaid : better, either
in regard to the particular persons he is present
with ; or from its being an interruption to conversa-
tion itself; or to conversation of a more agreeable
kind ; or better, lastly, with regard to himself. I
will end this particular with two reflections of the
Wise Man : one of which, in the strongest manner,
ex2:)oses the ridiculous part of this licentiousness of
the tongue ; and the other, the great danger and
viciousness of it, Wlicn he that is a fool ivalketh hy
the. way side, his ivisdom faileth him, and he saith to
every one that he is a fool"^. The other is. In the
mtdtitude ofivords there ivayiteth not sin^.
As to the government of the tongue in respect to
talking upon indifferent subjects : after what has
been said concerning the due government of it in
resjDCct to the occasions and times for silence, there
is little more necessary, than only to caution men to
be fully satisfied, that the subjects are indeed of an
indifferent nature ; and not to spend too much time
in conversation of this kind. But persons must be
^ Eccles. X. 3. *^ Prov. x. 19.
IV.] OF THE TONGUE. 49
sure to take heed, that the subject of their discourse
be at least of an indifferent nature : that it be no
way offensive to virtue, religion, or good manners;
that it be not of a licentious dissolute sort, this
leaving always ill impressions upon the mind ; that
it be no way injurious or vexatious to others; and
that too much time be not spent this way, to the
neglect of those duties and offices of life which
belong to their station and condition in the world.
However, though there is not any necessity that men
should aim at being important and weighty in every
sentence they speak : yet since useful subjects, at
least of some kinds, are as entertaining as others ;
a wise man, even when he desires to unbend his
mind from business, would choose that the conversa-
tion might turn upon somewhat instructive.
The last thing is, the government of the tongue as
relating to discourse of the affairs of others, and
giving of characters. These are in a manner the
same : and one can scarce call it an indifferent sub-
ject, because discourse upon it almost perpetually
runs into somewhat criminal.
And first of all, it were very much to be wished
that this did not take up so great a part of con-
versation; because it is indeed a subject of a
dangerous nature. Let any one consider the various
interests, competitions, and little misunderstandings
which arise amongst men ; and he will soon see, that
he is not unprejudiced and impartial ; that he is not,
as I may speak, neutral enough, to trust himself
with talking- of the character and concerns of his
neighbour, in a free, careless, and unreserved manner.
There is perpetually, and often it is not attended to,
a rivalship amongst people of one kind or another, in
respect to wit, beauty, learning, fortune, and that
BUTLER, SERMONS. E
50 UPON THE GOVERNMENT [SERM.
one thing will insensibly influence them to speak to
the disadvantage of others, even where there is no
formed malice or ill-design. Since therefore it is so
hard to enter into this subject without offending, the
first thing to be observed is, that people should learn
to decline it; to get over that strong inclination
most have to be talking of the concerns and be-
haviour of their neighbour.
But since it is impossible that this subject should
be wholly excluded conversation ; and since it is
necessary that the characters of men should be
known : the next thing is, that it is a matter of
importance what is said ; and therefore, that we
should be religiously scrupulous and exact to say
nothing, either good or bad, but what is true. I put
it thus, because it is in reality of as great importance
to the good of society, that the characters of bad
men should be known, as that the characters of good
men should. People, who are given to scandal and
detraction, may indeed make an ill use of this ob-
servation; but truths, which are of service towards
regulating our conduct, are not to be disowned, or
even concealed, because a bad use may be made of
them. This however would be effectually prevented,
if these two things were attended to. First, That,
though it is equally of bad consequence to society,
that men should have either good or ill characters
which they do not deserve ; yet, when you say
somewhat good of a man which he does not deserve,
there is no wrong done him in particular; whereas,
when you say evil of a man which he does not
deserve, here is a direct formal injury, a real piece of
injustice done him. This therefore makes a wide
difference ; and gives us, in point of virtue, much
greater latitude in speaking well than ill of others.
IV.] OF THE TONGUE. 51
Secondly, A good man is friendly to bis fellow-
creatures, and a lover of mankind ; and so will, upon
every occasion, and often without any, say all the
good he can of every body: but, so far as he is a
good man, will never be disposed to speak evil of
anv, unless there be some other reason for it, besides
barely that it is true. If he be charged with having
given an ill character, he will scarce think it a
sufficient justification of himself to say it was a true
one, unless he can also give some further account
how he came to do so : a just indignation against
particular instances of villainy, where they are great
and scandalous ; or to prevent an innocent man from
being deceived and betrayed, when he has great
trust and confidence in one who does not deserve it.
Justice must be done to every part of a subject when
we are considering it. If there be a man, who bears
a fair character in the world, whom yet we know to
be without faith or honesty, to be really an ill man ;
it must be allowed in general, that we shall do a
piece of service to society, by letting such an one's
true character be known. This is no more than what
we have an instance of in our Saviour himself®;
though he was mild and gentle beyond example.
However, no words can express too strongly the
caution which should be used in such a case as this.
Upon the whole matter : If people would observe
the obvious occasions of silence, if they would
subdue the inclination to talebearing, and that eager
desire to engage attention, which is an original
disease in some ixiinds ; they would be in little
danger of offending with their tongue ; and would,
in a moral and religious sense, have due government
over it.
e Mark xii. 38, 40.
E 2
52 UPON THE GOVERNMENT OF THE TONGUE.
I will conclude mth some precepts and reflections
of the Son of Sirach upon this subject. Be swift to
hear ; and, if thou hast undei'standing , ansiuer thy
neighbour ; if not, lay thy hand upon thy mouth.
Honour and shame is in talk. A man of an ill
tongue is dangerous in his city, and he that is rash in
his talk shall he hated. A ivise man ivill hold his
tongue till he see opportunity ; hut a hahhler and a
fool will regard no time. He that useth many words
shall he ahhorred ; and he that taketh to himself
authority therein, shall he hated. A hackhiting tongue
hath disquieted many ; strong cities hath it pidled
down, and overthrown the houses of great men. The
tongue of a man is his fall; hut if thou love to hear,
thou shalt receive under staiiding.
SERMON V.
UPON COMPASSION.
Rom. xii. 15.
Rejoice ivith them that do rejoice, and weep with them
that weep.
17 VEBY man is to be considered in two capacities,
the private and public; as designed to pursue
his own interest, and likewise to contribute to the
good of others. Whoever will consider, may see, that
in general there is no contrariety between these ; but
that from the original constitution of man, and the
circumstances he is placed in, they perfectly coincide,
and mutually carry on each other. But, amongst
the great variety of aflPections or principles of action
in our nature, some in their primary intention and
design seem to belong to the single or private, others
to the pubHc or social capacity. The affections re-
quired in the text are of the latter sort. When we
rejoice in the prosperity of others, and compassionate
their distresses, we, as it were, substitute them for
ourselves, their interest for our own ; and have the
same kind of pleasure in their prosperity, and sorrow
in their distress, as we have from reflection upon our
own. Now there is nothing strange or unaccountable
in our being thus carried out, and affected towards
54 UPON COMPASSION. [SERM.
the interests of others. For, if there be any appetite,
or any inward principle besides self-love ; why may
there not be an affection to the good of our fellow-
creatures, and delig'ht from that affection's being grati-
fied, and uneasiness from things going contrary to it ^ ?
^ Thei'e being manifestly this appearance of men's substituting
others for themselves, and being carried out and affected towards
them as towards themselves ; some persons, who have a system
which excludes every affection of this sort, have taken a pleasant
method to solve it ; and tell you it is not another you are at all con-
cerned about, but your self' only, when you feel the affection called
compassion, i.e. Here is a plain matter of fact, which men cannot
reconcile with the general account they think fit to give of things :
they therefore, instead of that manifest fact, substitute another, which
is reconcilable to their own scheme. For does not everybody by
compassion mean an affection, the object of which is another in dis-
tress 1 Instead of this, but designing to have it mistaken for this,
they speak of an affection or passion, the object of which is our-
selves, or danger to ourselves. Hobbes defines pity, imagination, or
fiction of future calamity to ourselves, proceeding from the sense (he
means sight or knowledge) of another mans calamity. Thus fear
and compassion would be the same idea, and a fearful and a compas-
sionate man the same character, which every one immediately sees
are totally different. Further, to those who give any scope to their
affections, there is no perception or inward feeling more universal
than this : that one who has been merciful and compassionate
throughout the course of his behaviour, should himself be treated
with kindness, if he happens to fall into circumstances of distress.
Is fear, then, or cowardice, so great a recommendation to the favour
of the bulk of mankind 1 Or is it not plain, that mere fearlessness
(and therefore not the contrarj^) is one of the most popular qualifi-
cations ? This shews that mankind arc not affected towards com-
passion as fear, but as somewhat totally different.
Nothing would more expose such accounts as these of the affec-
tions which are favourable and friendlj'^ to our fellow-creatures, than
to substitute the definitions, which this authoi", and others who fol-
low his steps, give of such affections, instead of the words by which
they are commonly expressed. Hobbes, after having laid down,
that pity or compassion is only fear for ourselves, goes on to ex-
plain the reason why we pif y our friends in distress more than others.
v.] UPON COMPASSION. 55
Of these two, delight in the prosperity of others,
and compassion for their distresses, the last is felt
Now substitute the de/imtion instead of the word pili/ in this place,
and the inquiiy will be, why we fear our fi'iends, &c. which words
(since he really does not mean why we are afraid of them) make no
question or sentence at all. So that common language, the words
to compassionate, to fity, cannot be accommodated to his account of
compassion. The veiy joining of the words to pity our friends, is a
direct contradiction to his definition of pity : because those words,
so joined, necessai'ily express that our friends are the objects of the
passion : whereas his definition of it asserts, that ourselves (or dan-
ger to ourselves) are the only objects of it. He might indeed have
avoided this absurdity, by plainly saying what he is going to account
for \ namely, why the sight of the innocent, or of our friends in dis-
tress, raises greater fear for ourselves than the sight of other per-
sons in distress. But had he put the thing thus plainly, the fact
itself would have been doubted; that tlie sight of our friends in dis-
tress raises in us greater fear for ourselves, than the sight of others in
distress. And in the next place it would immediately have occurred
to every one, that the fact now mentioned, which at least is doubtful,
whether true or false, was not the same with this fact, which nobody
ever doubted, that the sight of our friends in distress raises in us
greater compassion than the sight of others in distress : everj' one, I
say, would have seen that these are not the sa)ne, but two different
inquiries ; and consequently, that fear and compassion are not the
same. Suppose a person to be in real dangei*, and by some means
or other to have forgot it ; any trifling accident, any sound might
alarm him, recall the danger to his remembrance, and renew his fear :
but it is almost too grossly ridiculous (though it is to shew an ab-
surdity) to speak of that sound, or accident as an object of compas-
sion ; and yet, according to Mr. Hobbes, our greatest friend in dis-
tress is no moi'e to us, no more the object of compassion, or of any
affection in our heart : neither the one nor the other raises any emo-
tion in our miud, but only the thoughts of our liableness to calamity,
and the fear of it ; and both equally do this. It is fit such sort of
accounts of human nature should be shewn to be what they really
are, because there is raised upon them a general scheme, which un-
dermines the whole foundation of common justice and honesty. See
Hohhes of Human Nature, c. 9. § 10.
There are often three distinct perceptions or inward feelings upon
56 UPON COMPASSION. [SERM.
L
miicli more generally than the former. Though men
do not universally rejoice with all whom they see
rejoice, yet, accidental obstacles removed, they na-
turally compassionate all, in some degree, whom they
see in distress ; so far as they have any real per-
ception or sense of that distress : insomuch that words
expressmg this latter, pity, compassion, frequently
occur ; whereas we have scarce any single one, by
which the former is distinctly expressed. Congratu-
lation indeed answers condolence : but both these
Tv^ords are intended to signify certain forms of civility,
rather than any inward sensation or feeling. This
sight of persons in distress : real sorrow and concern for the misery
of our fellow-creatures ; some degi'ee of satisfaction from a con-
sciousness of our freedom from that misery ; and as the mind passes
on from one thing to another, it is not mmatural from such an occa-
sion to reflect upon our own liahleness to the same or other calami-
ties. The two last frequently accompany the first, but it is the first
only which is properly compassion, of which the distressed are the
objects, and which directly carries us with calmness and thought to
their assistance. Any one of these, from various and complicated
reasons, may in particular cases prevail over the other two ; and
there are, I suppose, instances, where the bare sight of distress,
without our feeling any compassion for it, may be the occasion of
either or both of the two latter perceptions. One might add, that
if there be really any such thing as the fiction or imagination of
danger to ourselves from sight of the miseries of others, which
Hobbes speaks of, and which he has absurdly mistaken for the whole
of compassion ; if there be any thing of this sort common to man-
kind, distinct from the reflection of reason, it would be a most re-
markable instance of what was furthest from his thoughts, namely,
of a mutual sympathy between each particular of the species, a fel-
low-feeling common to mankind. It would not indeed be an ex- •
ample of our substituting others for ourselves, but it would be an
example of our substituting ourselves for others. And as it would not
be an instance of benevolence, so neither would it be any instance of
self-love : for this phantom of danger to ourselves, naturally rising
to view upon sight of the distresses of others, would be no more an
instance of love to ourselves, than the pain of hunger is.
Y.] UPON COMPASSION. 57
difference or inequality is so remarkable, that we
plainly consider compassion as itself an original,
distinct, particular affection in human nature ; whereas
to rejoice in the good of others, is only a consequence
of the general affection of love and good-will to them.
The reason and account of which matter is this : when
a man has obtained any particular advantage or
felicity, his end is gained; and he does not in that
particular want the assistance of another : there was
therefore no need of a distinct affection towards that
felicity of another already obtained ; neither would
such affection directly carry him on to do good to that
person : whereas men in distress want assistance ; and
compassion leads us directly to assist them. The
object of the former is the present felicity of another;
the object of the latter is the present misery of an-
other. It is easy to see that the latter wants a
particular affection for its relief, and that the former
does not want one, because it does not want assist-
ance. And upon supposition of a distinct affection
in both cases, the one must rest in the exercise of
itself, having nothing further to gain ; the other does
not rest in itself, but carries us on to assist the
distressed.
But, supposing these affections natural to the
mind, particularly the last ; " Has not each man
troubles enough of his own 1 must he indulge an
affection which appropriates to himself those of
others ? which leads him to contract the least de-
sirable of all friendships, friendships with the un-
fortunate '? Must we invert the known rule of
prudence, and choose to associate ourselves with the
distressed '? or, allowing that we ought, so far as it
is in our power to relieve them, yet is it not
better to do this from reason and duty "? Does not
58 UPON COMPASSION. [SERM.
passion and affection of every kind perpetually mis-
lead us ? Nay, is not passion and affection itself a
weakness, and what a perfect being must be entirely
free from?" Perhaps so: but it is mankind I am
speaking of; imperfect creatures, and who naturally
and, from the condition we are placed in, necessarily
depend upon each other. With respect to such crea-
tures, it would be found of as bad consequence to
eradicate all natural affections, as to be entirely
governed by them. This would almost sink us to
the condition of brutes ; and that would leave us
without a sufficient principle of action. Reason alone,
whatever any one may wish, is not in reality a
sufficient motive of virtue in such a creature as man;
but this reason joined with those affections which
God has impressed upon his heart : and when these
are allowed scope to exercise themselves, but under
strict government and direction of reason ; then it is
we act suitably to our nature, and to the circum-
stances God has placed us in. Neither is affection
itself at all a weakness ; nor does it argue defect,
any otherwise than as our senses aad appetites do ;
they belong to our condition of nature, and are what
we cannot be without. God Almighty is, to be sure,
unmoved by passion or appetite, unchanged by af-
fection : but then it is to be added, that he neither
sees nor hears nor perceives things by any senses like
ours ; but in a manner infinitely more perfect. Now,
as it is an absurdity almost too gross to be men-
tioned, for a man to endeavour to get rid of his
senses, because the Supreme Being discern things
more perfectly without them ; it is as real, though
not so obvious an absurdity, to endeavour to eradicate
the passions he has given us, because he is without
them. For, since our pjissions are as really a part of
v.] UPON COMPASSION. 59
our constitution as our senses ; since the former as
really belong to our condition of nature as the latter ;
to get rid of either is equally a violation of and
breaking in upon that nature and constitution he has
given us. Both our senses and our passions are a
supply to the imperfection of our nature ; thus they
shew that we are such sort of creatures, as to stand
in need of those helps which higher orders of crea-
tures do not. But it is not the supply, but the
deficiency ; as it is not a remedy, but a disease, which
is the imperfection. However, our apjDetites, pas-
sions, senses, no way imply disease : nor indeed do
tliey imply deficiency or imperfection of any sort ;
but only this, that the constitution of nature, ac-
cording to which God has made us, is such as to
require them. And it is so far from being true,
that a wise man must entirely suppress compassion,
and all feUow-feeling for others, as a weakness ; and
trust to reason alone to teach and enforce upon him
the practice of the several charities we owe to our
kind ; that, on the contrary, even the bare exercise
of such affections would itself be for the good and
happiness of the world ; and the imperfection of
the higher principles of reason and religion in man,
the httle influence they have upon our practice,
and the strength and prevalency of contrary ones,
plainly require these affections to be a restraint
upon these latter, and a supply to the deficiencies of
the former.
First, The very exercise itself of tliese afiections
in a just and reasonable manner and degree, would
upon the whole increase the satisfactions, and lessen
the miseries of life.
It is the tendency and business of virtue and
religion to procure, as much as may be, universal
60 uroN COMPASSION. [seem.
good-will, trust, and friendship amongst mankind.
If this could be brought to obtain ; and each man
enjoyed the happiness of others, as every one does
that of a friend; and looked upon the success and
prosperity of his neighbour as every one does upon
that of his children and family; it is too manifest
to be insisted upon, how much the enjoyments of
life would be increased. There would be so much
happiness introduced into the world, without any
deduction or inconvenience from it, in proportion as
the precept of rejoicing with those ivho rejoice was
universally obeyed. Our Saviour has owned this
good affection as belonging to our nature, in the
parable of the lost sheep ; and does not think it to
the disadvantage of a perfect state, to represent its
happiness as capable of increase, from reflection upon
that of others.
But since in such a creature as man, compassion
or sorrow for the distress of others seems so far
necessarily connected with joy in their prosperity, as
that whoever rejoices in one must unavoidably com-
passionate the other ; there cannot be that delight or
satisfaction, which appears to be so considerable,
without the inconveniences, whatever they are, of
compassion.
However, without considering this connection,
there is no doubt l^ut that more good than evil,
more delight than sorrow, arises from compassion
itself; there being so many things which balance
the sorrow of it. There is first the rehef which
the distressed feel from this affection in others to-
wards them. There is likewise the additional miserv
which they would feel from the reflection, that no
one commiserated their case. It is indeed true, that
any disposition, prevailing beyond a certain degree,
v.] UrON COMPASSION. 01
becomes somewhat wrong ; and we have ways of
speaking, which, though they clo not directly express
that excess, yet, always lead our thoughts to it, and
give us the notion of it. Thus, when mention is
made of delight in being pitied, this always conveys
to our mind the notion of somewhat which is really a
weakness : the manner of speaking, I say, implies a
certain weakness and feebleness of mind, which is and
ought to be disapproved. But men of the greatest
fortitude would in distress feel uneasiness, from
knowuig that no person in the world had any sort of
compassion or real concern for them; and in some
cases, especially when the temper is enfeebled by sick-
ness, or any long and great distress, doubtless, would
feel a kind of relief even from the helpless good-will
and ineffectual assistances of those about them. Over
against the sorrow of compassion is likewise to be set
a peculiar calm kmd of satisfaction, which accompanies
it, unless in cases where the distress of another is by
some means so brought home to ourselves, as to be-
come in a manner our own ; or when from weakness
of mind the affection rises too high, which ought to
be corrected. This tranquillity or calm satisfaction
proceeds partly from consciousness of a right affection
and temper of mind, and partly from a sense of our
own freedom from the misery we compassionate. This
last may possibly appear to some at first sight faulty;
but it really is not so. It is the same with that posi-
tive enjoyment, which sudden ease from pain for the
present affords, arising from a real sense of misery,
joined with a sense of our freedom from it ; which in
all cases must afford some degree of satisfaction.
To these things must be added the observation,
which respects both the affections we are considering ;
that they who have got over all fellow-feeling for
62 UPON COMPASSION. [SERM.
others, have witlial contracted a certain callousness of
heart, which renders them insensible to most other
satisfactions, but those of the grossest kind.
Secondly, Without the exercise of these affections
men would certainly be much more wanting in the
offices of charity they owe to each other, and likewise
more ciuel and injurious, than they are at present.
The private interest of the individual would not be
sufficiently provided for by reasonable and cool self-
love alone ; therefore the appetites and passions are
placed within as a guard and farther security, with-
out which it would not be taken due care of It is
manifest our life would be neo-lected, were it not for
the calls of hunger and thirst and weariness ; notwith-
standing that without them reason would assure us,
that the recruits of food and sleep are the necessary
means of our preservation. It is therefore absurd to
imagine, that, without affection, the same reason alone
would be more effectual to engage us to perform the
duties we owe to our fellow-creatures. One of this
make would be as defective, as much wanting, con-
sidered with respect to society, as one of the former
make would be defective, or wanting, considered as
an individual, or in his private capacity. Is it pos-
sible any can in earnest think, that a public
spirit, i. e. a settled reasonable principle of benevo-
lence to mankind, is so prevalent and strong in
the species, as that we may venture to throw
off the under affections, which are its assistants,
carry it forward and mark out particular courses
for it ; family, friends, neighbourhood, the dis-
tressed, our country ? The common joys and the
common sorrows, which belong to these relations
and circumstances, are as plainly useful to society,
as the pain and pleasure belonging to hunger, thirst,
v.] UPON COMPASSION. 63
and weariness, are of service to the individual. In
defect of that higher prmciple of reason, com-
passion is often the only way by which the indigent
can have access to us: and therefore, to eradicate
this, though it is not indeed formally to deny them
that assistance which is their due ; yet it is to cut
them off from that which is too frequently their only
way of obtaining it. And as for those who have
shut up this door against the complaints of the
miserable, and conquered this affection in themselves ;
even these persons will be under great restraints
from the same affection in others. Thus a man who
has himself no sense of injustice, cruelty, oppression,
will be kept from running the utmost lengths of
wickedness, by fear of that detestation, and even
resentment of inhumanity, in many particular in-
stances of it, which compassion for the object towards
whom such inhumanity is exercised, excites in the
bulk of mankind. And this is frequently the chief
danger, and the chief restraint, which tyrants and the
great oppressors of the world feel.
In general, experience will shew, that as want of
natural appetite to food supposes and proceeds from
some bodily disease ; so the apathy the Stoics talk of,
as much supposes, or is accompanied with, somewhat
amiss in the moral character, in that which is the
health of the mind. Those who formerly aimed at
this upon the foot of philosophy, appear to have had
better success in eradicating the affections of tender-
ness and compassion, than they had with the passions
of envy, pride, and resentment : these latter, at best,
were but concealed, and that imperfectly too. How
far this observation mav be extended to such as
endeavour to suppress the natural impulses of their
affections, in order to form themselves for business
64 UPON COMPASSION. [SEKM.
and the Avorld, I shall not determine. But there does
not appear any capacity or relation to be named, in
which men ought to be entirely deaf to the calls of
affection, unless the judicial one is to be excepted.
And as to those who are commonly called the men
of pleasure, it is manifest, that the reason they set up
for hardness of heart, is to avoid being interrupted in
their course, by the ruin and misery they are the
authors of: neither are persons of this character
always the most free from the impotencies of envy
and resentment. What may men at last bring them-
selves to, by suppressing their passions and affections
of one kind, and leaving those of the other in their
full strength ? But surely it might be expected that
persons who make pleasure their study and their
business, if they understood what they profess, would
reflect, how many of the entertainments of life, how
many of those kind of amusements which seem pecu-
liarly to belong to men of leisure and education,
they become insensible to by this acquired hardness
of heart.
I shall close these reflections with barely mention-
ing the behaviour of that divine Person, who was
the example of all perfection in human nature, as
represented in the Gospels mourning, and even, in
a literal sense, weeping over the distresses of his
creatures.
The observation already made, that, of the two
affections mentioned in the text, the latter exerts
itself much more than the former ; that, from the
original constitution of human nature, we much more
generally and sensibly compassionate the distressed,
than rejoice with the prosperous, requires to be par-
ticularly considered. This observation, therefore,
with the reflections which arise out of it, and which
v.] UPON COMPASSION. ()5
it leads our thoughts to, shall be the subject of
another discourse.
For the conclusion of this, let me just take notice
of the danger of over-great refinements ; of going
besides or beyond the plain, obvious, first appearances
of things, upon the subject of morals and religion.
The least observation will shew, how little the
generahty of men are capable of speculations. There-
fore morality and religion must be somewhat plain
and easy to be understood : it must appeal to what
we call plain common sense, as distinguished from
superior capacity and improvement ; because it ap-
peals to mankind. Persons of superior cajDacity and
improvement have often fallen into errors, which no
one of mere common understanding could. Is it
possible that one of this latter character could ever
of liimself have thought, that there was absolutely
no such thing in mankind as affection to the good
of others 1 suppose of parents to their children ; or
that what he felt u23on seeing a friend in distress
was only fear for himself; or, upon supposition of
the aftections of kindness and compassion, that it
was the busmess of wisdom and virtue to set him
about extirpating them as fast as he could ? And
yet each of these manifest contradictions to nature
has been laid down by men of speculation, as a
discovery in moral pJiilosophy ; which they, it seems,
have found out through all the specious aj^pearances
to the contrary. This reflection may be extended
further. The extravagancies of enthusiasm and
superstition do not at all lie in the road of common
sense ; and therefore, so far as they are original
mistakes, must be owmg to going beside or beyond
it. Now, since inquiry and examination can relate
only to things so obscure and uncertam as to stand
BUTLEE, SERMONS. P
QQ FPON COMPASSION".
in need of it, and to persons who are capable of it ;
the proper advice to be given to plain honest men, to
secure them from the extremes both of superstition
and irreligion, is that of the Son of Sirach : In every
good work trust thy oivn soul; for this is the keeping
of the commmidment^.
^ Ecclus. xxxii. 23.
SERMON VI.
UPON COMPASSION.
PREACHED THE FIRST SUNDAY IN LENT.
Rom. xii. 15.
Rejoice with them that do rejoice, and 2veep with them that
weep.
npHERE is a much more exact correspondence
-■- between the natural and moral world, than
we are apt to take notice of. The inward frame
of man does in a peculiar manner answer to the
external condition and circumstances of hfe, in which
he is placed. This is a particular instance of that
general observation of the Son of Sirach : All things
are douhle one against another, and God hath made no-
thing imperfect ^. The several passions and affections
in the heart of man, compared with the circumstances
of life in which he is placed, afford, to such as will
attend to them, as certain instances of final causes,
as any whatever, which are more commonly alleged
for such : since those affections lead him to a certain
determinate course of action suitable to those cir-
cumstances ; as (for instance) compassion, to relieve
the distressed. And as all observations of final
a Ecclus. xlii. 24.
F 2
68 UPON COMPASSION. [SERM.
causes, drawn from the principles of action in the
heart of man, compared with the condition he is
placed in, serve all the good uses which mstances
of final causes in the material world about us do ;
and both these are equally proofs of wisdom and
design in the Author of nature : so the former serve
to further good purposes ; they shew us what course
of life we are made for, what is our duty, and in a
peculiar manner enforce upon us the practice of it.
Suppose we are capable of happiness and of misery
in degrees equally intense and extreme, yet, we are
capable of the latter for a much longer time, beyond
all comparison. We see men in the tortures of pain
for hours, days, and, excepting the short suspensions
of sleep, for months together, without intermission ;
to which no enjoyments of life do, in degree and
continuance, bear any sort of proportion. And such
is our make and that of the world about us, that
any thing may become the instrument of pain and
sorrow to us. Thus almost any one man is caj)a-
ble of doing mischief to any other, though he may
not be capable of doing him good : and if he be
capable of doing him some good, he is capable of
doing him more evil. And it is, in numberless
cases, much more in our powder to lessen the miseries
of others, than to promote their positive happiness,
any otherwise than as the former often includes tlie
latter; ease from misery occasioning for some time
the greatest positive enjoyment. This constitution
of nature, namely, that it is so much more in our
power to occasion and likewise to lessen misery, than
to promote positive happiness, plainly required a
particular affection, to hindei' us from abusing, and
to incline us to make a right use of the former
powers, i. e. the powers both to occasion and to lessen
YI.] UPON COMPASSION. 69
misery; over and above what was necessary to in-
duce us to make a right use of the latter power,
that of promoting positive happiness. The power
we have over the misery of our fellow-creatures, to
occasion or lessen it, being a more important trust
than the power we have of promoting their positive
happiness; the former requires and has a further,
an additional security and guard against its being
violated, be3^ond and over and above what the latter
has. The social nature of man, and general good-
will to his species, equally prevent him from doing
evil, incline him to relieve the distressed, and to pro-
mote the positive happiness of his fellow-creatures :
but compassion only restrains from the first, and
carries him to the second ; it hath nothing to do
with the third.
The final causes then of compassion are to prevent
and to relieve misery.
As to the former : this affection may plainly be
a restraint upon resentment, envy, unreasonable self-
love ; that is, upon all the principles from which
men do evil to one another. Let us instance only
in resentment. It seldom happens, in regulated
societies, that men have an enemy so entirely in
their power, as to be able to satiate their resent-
ment with safety. But if we were to put this case,
it is plainly supposable, that a person might bring
his enemy into such a condition, as from being the
object of anger and rage, to become an object of com-
passion, even to himself, though the most malicious
man in the world : and in this case compassion would
stop him, if he could stop with safety, from pur-
suing his revenge any further. But since nature
has placed within us more powerful restraints to
prevent mischief, and since the final cause of com-
70 UPON COMPASSION. [SERM.
passion is much more to relieve misery, let us go on
to the consideration of it in this view.
As this world was not intended to be a state of
any great satisfaction or high enjoyment; so neither
was it intended to be a mere scene of unhappiness
and sorrow. Mitigations and reliefs are provided by
the merciful Author of nature, for most of the afflic-
tions in human Hfe. There is kind provision made
even against our frailties; as we are so constituted,
that time abundantly abates our sorrows, and begets
in us that resignment of temper, which ought to
have been produced by a better cause; a due sense
of the authority of God, and our state of dependence.
This holds in respect too far the greatest part of the
evils of life; I suppose, in some degree, as to pain
and sickness. Now this part of the constitution or
make of man, considered as some relief to misery,
and not as provision for positive happiness, is, if I
may so speak, an instance of nature's compassion for
us ; and every natural remedy or rehef to misery
may be considered in the same view.
But since in many cases it is very much in our
power to alleviate the miseries of each other ; and
benevolence, though natural in man to man, yet is
in a very low degree kept down by interest and
competitions ; and men, for the most part, are so
engaged in the business and pleasures of the world,
as to overlook and turn away from objects of misery;
which are plainly considered as interruptions to them
in their way, as intruders upon their business, their
gayety and mirth : compassion is an advocate within
us in their behalf, to gain the unhappy admittance
and access, to make their case attended to. If it
sometimes serves a contrary purpose, and makes
men industriously turn away from the miserable,
VI.] UVOa COMPASSION. 71
these are only instances of abuse and perversion : for
the end, for wliicli the affection was given us, most
certainly is not to make us avoid, but to make us
attend to, the objects of it. And if men would only
resolve to allow thus much to it ; let it bring before
their view, the view of their mind, the miseries of
their fellow-creatiu-es ; let it gam for them that
their case be considered; I am persuaded it would
not fail of gaining more, and that very few real
objects of charity would pass unrelieved. Pain and
sorrow and misery have a right to our assistance:
comjoassion puts us in mind of the debt, and that we
owe it to ourselves as well as to the distressed. For,
to endeavour to get rid of the sorrow of compassion
by turning from the wretched, when yet it is in our
power to relieve them, is as unnatural, as to en-
deavour to get rid of the pain of hunger by keeping
from the sight of food. That we can do one with
greater success than we can the other, is no proof
that one is less a violation of nature than the other.
Compassion is a call, a demand of nature, to relieve
the unhappy; as hunger is a natural call for food.
This affection plainly gives the objects of it an
additional claim to relief and mercy, over and above
what our fellow-creatures in common have to our
good-will. Liberality and bounty are exceedingly
commendable ; and a particular distinction in such a
world as this, where men set themselves to contract
their heart, and close it to all interests but their
own. It is by no means to be opposed to mercy, but
always accompanies it : the distinction between them
is only, that the former leads our thoughts to a
more promiscuous and undistinguished distribution
of favours ; to those who are not, as well as those who
are necessitous ; whereas the object of compassion
72 UPON COMPASSION. [SERM.
is misery. But in the comparison, and wliere there
is not a possibility of both, mercy is to have the
preference : the affection of compassion manifestly
leads us to this preference. Thus, to relieve the
indigent and distressed, to single out the imhappy,
from whom can be expected no returns either of
present entertainment or future service, for the
objects of our favours ; to esteem a man's being
friendless as a recommendation; dejection, and in-
capacity of struggling through the world, as a motive
for assisting him ; in a word, to consider these circum-
stances of disadvantage, which are usually thought a
sufficient reason for neglect and overlooking a per-
son, as a motive for helping him forward : this is
the course of benevolence which compassion marks
out and directs us to : this is that humanity, which
is so peculiarly becoming our nature and circum-
stances in this world.
To these considerations, drawn from the nature of
man, must be added the reason of the thing itself we
are recommending, which accords to and shews the
same. For since it is so much more in our power to
lessen the misery of our fellow-creatures, than to
promote their positive happiness ; in cases where
there is an inconsistency, we shall be likely to do
much more good by setting ourselves to mitigate
the former, than by endeavouring to promote the
latter. Let the competition be between the poor and
the rich. It is easy, you will say, to see which will
have the preference. True : but the question is,
which ought to have the preference "? What pro-
portion is there between the happiness produced by
doing a favour to the indigent, and that produced by
doing the same favour to one in easy circumstances ?
It is manifest, that the addition of a very large
VI.] UPON cojirAssioN. 73
estate to one who before had an affluence, will in
many instances yield him less new enjoyment or
satisfaction, than an ordinary charity would yield to
a necessitous person. So that it is not only true,
that our nature, i. e. the voice of God within us,
carries us to the exercise of charity and benevolence
in the way of compassion or mercy, preferably to any
other way; but we also manifestly discern much
more good done by the former ; or, if you will allow
me the expressions, more misery annihilated, and
happiness created. If charity and benevolence, and
endeavouring to do good to our fellow-creatures, be
any thing, this observation deserves to be most
seriously considered by all who have to bestow.
And it holds with great exactness, when applied to
the several degrees of greater and less indigency
throughout the various ranks in human life : the
happiness or good produced not being in propor-
tion to what is bestowed, but in proportion to this
joined with the need there was of it.
It may perhaps be expected, that upon this subject
notice should be taken of occasions, circumstances,
and characters, which seem at once to call forth,
affections of different sorts. Thus vice may be
thought the object both of pity and indignation :
folly, of pity and of laughter. How far this is
strictly true, I shall not inquire ; but only observe
upon the appearance, how much more humane it is
to yield and give scope to affections, which are most
directly in favour of, and friendly towards, our fellow-
creatures ; and that there is plainly much less danger
of being led wrong by these, than by the other.
But, notwithstanding all that has been said in
recommendation of compassion, that it is most
amiable, most becoming human nature, and most
74 UPON COMPASSION. [SERM.
useful to the world ; yet it must be owned, that
every affection, as distinct from a principle of reason,
may rise too liigh, and be beyond its just proportion.
And by means of this one carried too far, a man
throughout his life is subject to much more uneasi-
ness than belongs to his share : and in particular
instances, it may be in such a degree, as to in-
capacitate him from assisting the very person who
is the object of it. But as there are some who upon
principle set up for suppressing this affection itself
as weakness, there is also I know not what of fashion
on this side ; and, by some means or other, the whole
world almost is run into the extremes of insensibility
towards the distresses of their fellow-creatures : so
that general rules and exhortations must always be
on the other side.
And now to go on to the uses we should make of
the foregoing reflections, the further ones they lead
to, and the general temper they have a tendency
to beget in us. There being that distinct affection
implanted in the nature of man, tending to lessen
the miseries of life, that particular provision made
for abating its sorrows, more than for increasing its
positive happiness, as before explained ; this may
suggest to us what should be our general aim re-
specting ourselves, in our passage through this world :
namely, to endeavour chiefly to escape misery, keep
free from uneasiness, j^ain, and sorrow, or to get
relief and mitigation of them ; to propose to our-
selves peace and tranquillity of mind, rather than
pursue after high enjoyments. This is what the
constitution of nature before explained marks out as
the course we should follow, and the end we should
aim at. To make pleasure and mirth and jollity our
business, and be constantly hurrying about after some
VI.] . UPON COMPASSION. 75
gay amusement, some new gratification of sense or
appetite, to those who will consider the nature of
man and our condition in this world, will appear the
most romantic scheme of life that ever entered into
thought. And yet how many are there who go on
in this course, without learning better from the daily,
the hourly disappointments, listlessness, and satiety,
which accompany this fashionable method of wasting
away their days !
The subject we have been insisting upon would
lead us into the same kind of reflections by a different
connection. The miseries of life brought home to
ourselves by compassion, viewed through this affec-
tion considered as the sense by which they are per-
ceived, would beget in us that moderation, humility,
and soberness of mind, which has been now recom-
mended ; and which peculiarly belongs to a season
of recollection, the only purpose of which is to bring
us to a just sense of things, to recover us out of that
forgetfulness of ourselves, and our true state, which
it is manifest far the greatest part of men pass their
whole life in. Upon this account Solomon says,
that it is better to go to the house of mourning, than to
go to the house of feasting ; i. e. it is more to a man's
advantage to turn his eyes towards objects of dis-
tress, to recall sometimes to his remembrance the
occasions of sorrow, than to pass all his days in
thoughtless mirth and gayety. And he represents
the wise as choosing to frequent the former of these
places ; to be sure not for his own sake, but because
hy the sadness of the countenance the heart is made
better. Every one observes how temperate and
reasonable men are when humbled and brought low
by afQictions, in comparison of what they are in high
prosperity. By this voluntary resort to the house of
76 UPON COMrASSION. [SERM.
mourning, which is here recommended, we might
learn all those useful instructions which calamities
teach, without undergoing them ourselves ; and grow
wiser and better at a more easy rate than men com-
monly do. The objects themselves, which in that
place of sorrow lie before our view, naturally give us
a seriousness and attention, check that wantonness
which is the growth of prosperity and ease, and lead
us to reflect upon the deficiencies of human life itself;
that every man, at his best estate, is altogether vanity.
This would correct the florid and gaudy prospects
and expectations which we are too apt to indulge,
teach us to lower our notions of happiness and enjoy-
ment, bring them down to the reality of things, to
what is attainable, to what the frailty of our con-
dition will admit of, which, for any continuance, is
only tranquillity, ease, and moderate satisfactions.
Thus we might at once become proof against the
temptations with which the whole world almost is
carried away ; since it is plain, that not only what is
called a life of pleasure, but also vicious pursuits in
general, aim at somewhat besides and beyond these
moderate satisfactions.
And as to that obstinacv and wilfulness, which
renders men so insensible to the motives of religion ;
this right sense of ourselves and of the world about
us would bend the stubborn mind, soften the heart,
and make it more apt to receive impression : and
this is the proper temper in which to call our ways
to remembrance, to review and set home upon our-
selves the miscarriages of our past life. In such a
compliant state of mind, reason and conscience will
have a fair hearing ; which is the preparation for, or
rather the beginning of, that repentance, the out-
ward show of which we all put on at this season.
VI.] UPON COMPASSION. 77
Lastly, The various miseries of life which lie before
us wherever we turn our eyes, the frailty of this
mortal state we are passing through, may put us in
mind that the present world is not our home ; that
we are merely strangers and travellers in it, as all
our fathers were. It is therefore to be considered as
a foreign country ; in which our poverty and wants,
and the insufficient supplies of them, were designed
to turn our views to that higher and better, state
we are heirs to : a state where will be no follies to
be overlooked, no miseries to be pitied, no wants to
be relieved ; where the affection we have been now
treating of will happily be lost, as there will be no
objects to exercise it upon : for God shall wijpe aivay
all tears from their eyes, and there shall he no more
death, 7ieither sorroiv, nor crying ; neither shall there
he any more imin ; for the former things are 2^ttssed
aivay.
SEEMON Vn.
UPON THE CHARACTER OF BALAAM.
PREACHED THE SECOND SUNDAY AFTER EASTER.
Numbers xxiii. 10.
Let me die the death of the righteous, and let my last end he
like his.
^T^HESE words, taken alone, and without respect
-*- to him who spoke them, lead our thoughts im-
mediately to the different ends of good and bad
men. For though the comparison is not expressed,
yet it is manifestly implied ; as is also the preference
of one of these characters to the other in that last
circumstance, death. And, since dying the death of
the righteous or of the wicked necessarily implies
men's being righteous or wricked, i. e. having lived
righteously or wickedly; a comparison of them in
their Uves also might come into consideration, from
such a single view of the words themselves. But
my present design is to consider them with a par-
ticular reference or respect to liim who spoke them ;
which reference, if you please to attend, you will see.
And if what shall be offered to your consideration at
this time be thought a discourse upon the whole
history of this man, rather than upon the particular
UPON THE CHARACTER OF BALAAM. 79
words I have read, this is of no consequence : it is
sufficient, if it afford reflection of use and service to
ourselves..
But, in order to avoid cavils respecting this re-
markable relation in scripture, either that part of it
which you have heard in the first lesson for the day,
or any other; let me just observe, that as this is not
a place for answering them, so they no way affect the
following discourse; since the character there given
is plainly a real one in life, and such as there are
parallels to.
The occasion of Balaam's coming out of his own
country into the land of Moab, wdiere he pronounced
this solemn prayer or wish, he himself relates in the
first parable or prophetic speech, of which it is the
conclusion. In which is a custom referred to, proper
to be taken notice of : that of devoting enemies to
destruction, before the entrance upon a war with
them. This custom appears to have prevailed over
a great part of the world; for we find it amongst
the most distant nations. The E-omans had public
officers, to whom it belonged as a stated part of their
office. But there was somewhat more particular in
the case now before us ; Baalam being looked upon
as an extraordinary person, whose blessing or curse
was thought to be always effectual.
In order to engage the reader's attention to this
passage, the sacred historian has enumerated the
preparatory circumstances, which are these. Balaam
requires the king of Moab to build him seven altars,
and to prepare him the same number of oxen and of
rams. The sacrifice being over, he retires alone to a
solitude sacred to these occasions, there to wait the
divine inspiration or answer, for which the foregoing
rites were the preparation. And God met Bcdaam,
80 UPON THE CHARACTER [SERM.
and ])ut a ivord in his mouth^ ; upon receiving
which, he returns back to the altars, where was the
king, who had all this while attended the sacrifice, as
appomted ; he and all the princes of Moab standing,
big with expectation of the Prophet's reply. And he
took up his parable, and. said, Balah the king of Moah
hath brought me from Aram, out of the mountains of
the east, saying, Come, curse me Jacob, and come,
defy Israel. Hoiv shall I curse, whom God hath not
cui^scd f Or how shall I defy, ivhom the Lord hath
not defied f For from the top of the rocks I see
him, and from the hills I behold him : lo, the people
shall dwell alone, and shall not be reckoned among
the nations. Who can count the dust of Jacob, and
the number of the fourth p)art of Israel f Let me
die the death of the righteous, and let my last end
be like his ^.
It is necessary, as you will see in the progress
of this discourse, particularly to observe what he
understood by righteous. And he himself is intro-
duced in the book of Micah ^ explaining it ; if by
righteous is meant good, as to be sure it is. my
'people, remember now ivhat Balak king of Moab con-
sidted, and ivhat Balaa7n the son of Beor ansivered
him from Shittim unto Gil'jal. From the mention
of Shittun it is manifest, that it is this very story
whicli is here referred to, though another part of it,
tlie account of which is not now extant ; as there
are many quotations in scripture out of books which
are not come down to us. Remeynber ivhat Balaam
answered, that ye may knoiv the righteousness of the
Lord ; i. e, the righteousness which God will accept.
Balak demands, Wherewith shall I come before the
Lord, and boiu myself before the high God ? Shall I
^ Ver. 4, 5. l> Ycr. 6. <= Micah vi.
VII.] OF BALAAM. 81
come hefore him ivith hurnt-qfferings, with calves of a
year old f Will the Lord he jjleased with thousands of
rams, or ivith ten thousands of rivers of oil f Shall I
give my Jirst-horn for my transgression, the fruit of
my hod y for the sin of my soul? Balaam answers
him, He hath shelved thee, O man, ivhat is good:
and ivhat doth the Lord require of thee, hut to do
justly, and to love mercy, and to walk humhly with thy
God f Here is a good man expressly characterized,
as distinct from a dishonest and a superstitious man.
No words can more strongly exclude dishonesty and
falseness of heart, than doing justice, and loving mercy:
and both these, as well as walJdng humbly with God,
are put in opposition to those ceremonial methods of
recommendation, which Balak hoped might have
served the turn. From hence appears what he meant
by the righteous, whose death he desires to die.
Whether it was his own character shall now be
inquired : and in order to determine it, we must take
a view of his whole behaviour upon this occasion.
When the elders of Moab came to him, though he
appears to have been much allured with the rewards
ofiered, yet he had such regard to the authority of
God, as to keep the messengers in suspense until he
had consulted his will. And God said to him. Thou
slialt not go ivith them, thou shalt 7iot curse the ])eople,
for they are hlessed *^. Upon this he dismisses the am-
bassadors, with an absolute refusal of accompanying
them back to tlieir king. Thus far his regards to
his duty prevailed, neither does there any thing
appear as yet amiss in his conduct. His answer
being reported to the king of Moab, a more honour-
able embassy is immediately despatched, and greater
rewards proposed. Then the iniquity of his heart
"^ Chap. xxii. 12.
BUTLER, SERMONS. G
82 UPON THE CHARACTER [SERM.
began to disclose itself. A thorough honest man
would without hesitation have repeated his former
answer, that he could not be guilty of so infamous a
prostitution of the sacred character with which he
was invested, as in the name of a prophet to curse
those whom he knew to be blessed. But instead of
this, which was the only honest part in these circum-
stances that lay before him, he desires the princes of
Moab to tarry that night with him also ; and for the
sake of the reward deliberates, whether by some
means or other he might not be able to obtain leave
to curse Israel; to do that, which had been before
revealed to him to be contrary to the will of God,
which yet he resolves not to do without that per-
mission. Upon which, as when this nation after-
wards rejected God from reigning over them, he
gave them a king in his anger ; in the same way, as
appears from other parts of the narration, he gives
Balaam the permission he desired : for this is the
most natural sense of the words. Arriving in the
territories of Moab, and being received with par-
ticular distinction by the king, and he repeating in
person the promise of the rewards he had before
made to him by his ambassadors, he seeks, the text
says, by sacrifices and enchantments (what these were is
not to our purpose,) to obtain leave of God to curse
the people ; keeping still his resolution, not to do it
without that permission : which not being able to
obtain, he had such regard to the command of God,
as to keep this resolution to the last. The suppo-
sition of his being under a supernatural restraint is
a mere fiction of Philo : he is plainly represented to
be under no other force or restraint, than the fear of
God. However, he goes on persevering in that
endeavour, after he had declared, that God had not
Vll.] OF BALAAM. 83
beheld iniquity in Jacob, neitlier had he seen perverse-
ness in Israel^ ; i.e. they were a people of virtue and
piety, so far as not to have drawn down, by their
iniquity, that curse which he was soliciting leave to
pronounce upon them. So that the state of Balaam's
mind was this : he wanted to do what he knew to
be very wicked, and contrary to the express com-
mand of God ; he had inward checks and restraints,
which he coidd not entirelv ofet over ; he therefore
casts about for ways to reconcile this wickedness
with his duty. How great a paradox soever this may
appear, as it is indeed a contradiction in terms, it is
tlie very account which the scripture gives us of him.
But there is a more surprising piece of iniquity
yet behind. Not daring in his religious character,
as a prophet, to assist the king of Moab, he con-
siders whether there might not be found some other
means of assisting him against that very people, whom
he himself by the fear of God was restrained from
cursuig in words. One would not think it possible,
that the weakness, even of religious self-deceit in its
utmost excess, could have so poor a distinction, so
fond an evasion, to serve itself of. But so it was :
and he could think of no other method, than to
betray the children of Israel to provoke his wrath,
who was their only strength and defence. The
temptation which he pitched upon, was that concern-
ing which Solomon afterwards observed, that it had
cast down many vjounded ; yea, many strong men had
been slain by it : and of which he himself was a sad
example, when his -wives turned away his heart after
other gods. This succeeded : the people sin against
God ; and thus the Prophet's counsel brought on
that destruction, which he could by no means be
e Ver. 21.
2
84 UPON THE CHAEACTEE [SERM.
prevailed upon to assist with the religious ceremony
of execration, whicli the king of Moab thought
would itself have affected it. Their crime and
punishment are related in Deuteronomy ^ and Num-
bers s. And from the relation repeated in Numbers ^
it appears, that Balaam was the contriver of the
whole matter. It is also ascribed to him in the
Eevelation^, where he is said to have taught Balah to
cast a stumhling -block before the children of Israel.
This was the man, this Balaam, I say, was the man
who desired to die the death of the righteous, and that
his last end might be like his : and this was the state
of his mind when he pronounced these words.
So that the object we have now before us is the
most astonishing; in the world : a verv wicked man,
under a deep sense of God and religion, persisting
still in his wickedness, and preferring the wages of
unrighteousness, even when he had before him a
lively view of death, and that approaching period of
his days, which should deprive him of all those
advantages for which he was prostituting himself;
and hkewise a prospect, whether certain or uncertain,
of a future state of retribution : all this joined with
an explicit ardent wish, that, when he was to leave
this world, he might be in the condition of a
righteous man. Good God, what inconsistency, what
perplexity is here! With what different views of
tilings, with what contradictory principles of action,
must such a mind be torn and distracted ! It was
not unthinking carelessness, by which he run on
headlong in vice and folly, without ever making a
stand to ask himself what he was doing : no ; he
acted upon the cool motives of interest and ad-
f Chap. iv. K Chap. xxv.
h Chap. xxxi. ' Chap. ii.
VII.] OF BALAAM. 85
vantage. Neither was he totally hard and callous
to impressions of religion, what we call abandoned ;
for he absolutely denied to curse Israel. When
reason assumes her place, when convinced of his
duty, when he owns and feels, and is actually under
the influence of the divine authority; whilst he is
carrying on his views to the grave, the end of all
temporal greatness ; under this sense of things, with
the better character and more desirable state present
— full before him — in his thoughts, in his wishes,
voluntarilv to choose the worse — what fatalitv is
here ! Or how otherwise can such a character be
explained % And yet, strange as it may appear, it
is not altogether an uncommon one : nay, with some
small alterations, and put a little lower, it is ap-
plicable to a very considerable part of the world. For
if the reasonable choice be seen and acknowledged,
and yet men make the unreasonable one, is not this
the same contradiction ; that very inconsistency, which
appeared so unaccountable %
To give some Httle opening to such characters
and behaviour, it is to be observed in general,
that there is no account to be given in the way of
reason, of men's so strong attachments to the present
world : our hopes and fears and pursuits are in de-
grees beyond aU proportion to the kno^vn value of
the things they respect. This may be said without
taking into consideration religion and a future state ;
and when these are considered, the disproportion is
infinitely heightened. Now when men go against
their reason, and contradict a more imjDortant in-
terest at a distance, for one nearer, though of less
consideration ; if this be the whole of the case, all
that can be said is, that strong passions, some kind
of brute force within, prevails over the principle of
86 UPON THE CHARACTER [SERM.
rationality. However, if this be with a clear, full,
and distinct view of the truth of things, then it is
doing the utmost violence to themselves, acting in
the most palpable contradiction to their very nature.
But if there be any such thing in mankind as putting
half-deceits upon themselves ; which there plainly is,
either by avoiding reflection, or (if they do reflect)
by religious equivocation, subterfuges, and palliating
matters to themselves ; by these means conscience
may be laid asleep, and they may go on in a course
of wickedness with less disturbance. All the various
turns, doubles, and intricacies in a dishonest heart,
cannot be unfolded or laid open ; but that there is
somewhat of that kind is manifest, be it to be called
self-deceit, or by any other name. Balaam had be-
fore his eyes the authority of God, absolutely for-
bidding him what he, for the sake of a reward, had
the strongest inclination to : he was likewise in a
state of mmd sober enough to consider death and
liis last end : by these considerations he was re-
strained, first from going to the king of Moab ; and
after he did go, from cursing Israel. But notwith-
standing this, there was great wickedness in his
heart. He could not forego the rewards of unright-
eousness : he therefore first seeks for indulgences ;
and when these could not be obtained, he sins against
the whole meaning, end, and design of the prohi-
bition, which no consideration in the world could
prevail with him to go against the letter of. And
siu-ely that impious counsel he gave to Balak against
the children of Israel, was, considered in itself, a
greater piece of wickedness, than if he had cursed
them in words.
If it be inquired what his situation, his hopes and
fears were, in respect to this his wish ; the answer
VII.] OF BALAAM. 87
must be, tliat consciousness of the wickedness of his
heart must necessarily have destroyed all settled
hopes of dying the death of the righteous : he could
have no calm satisfaction in this view of his last end :
yet, on the other hand, it is possible that those
partial regards to his duty, now mentioned, might
keep him from perfect despair.
Upon the whole, it is manifest, that Balaam had
the most just and true notions of God and religion ;
as appears, partly from the original story itself, and
more plainly from the passage in Micah ; where he
explains religion to consist in real virtue and real
piety, expressly distmguished from superstition, and
in terms which most strongly exclude dishonesty
and falseness of heart. Yet you see his behaviour :
he seeks indulgences for plain wickedness ; which
not being able to obtain, he glosses over that same
wickedness, dresses it up in a new form, in order
to make it pass off more easily with himself That
is, he deliberately contrives to deceive and impose
upon himself, in a matter which he knew to be of
the utmost importance.
To bring these observations home to ourselves : it
is too evident, that many persons allow themselves
in very unjustifiable courses, who yet make great
pretences to rehgion ; not to deceive the world, none
can be so weak as to think this will pass in our age ;
but from principles, hopes, and fears, respecting God
and a future state ; and go on thus with a sort of
tranquillity and quiet of mind. This cannot be
upon a thorough consideration, and full resolution,
that the pleasures and advantages they propose are
to be pursued at all hazards, against reason, against
the law of God, and though everlasting destruction
is to be the consequence. This would be doing too
88 • UPON THE CHARACTER [sERM.
great violence upon themselves. No, they are for
making a composition with the Almighty. These
of his commands they will obey; hut as to others
— why they will make all the atonements in their
power ; the ambitious, the covetous, the dissolute
man, each in a wav which shall not contradict his
respective pursuit. Indulgences before, which was
Balaam's first attempt, though he was not so suc-
cessful in it as to deceive himself, or atonements
afterwards, are all the same. And here perhaps
come in faint hopes that they may, and half-resolves
that they will, one time or other, make a change.
Besides these, there are also persons, who, from
a more just way of considering things, see the in-
finite absiu-dity of this, of substitutmg sacrifice
instead of obedience ; there are persons far enough
from superstition, and not without some real sense
of God and religion upon their minds ; who yet
are guilty of most unjustifiable practices, and go on
with great coolness and command over themselves.
The same dishonesty and unsoundness of heart dis-
covers itself in these another way. In all common
ordinary cases we see intuitively at first view what
is our duty, what is the honest part. This is the
ground of the observation, that the first thought is
often the best. In these cases doubt and deliberation
is itself dishonesty; as it was in Balaam upon the
second message. That which is called considering
what is our duty in a particular case, is very often
nothing but endeavouring to explain it away. Thus
those courses, which, if men would fairly attend to
the dictates of their own consciences, they would
see to be corruption, excess, oppression, uncharitable-
ness ; these are refined upon — things were so and
so circumstantiated — great difficulties are raised about
VII.] OF BALAAM, 89
fixing bounds and degrees : and thus every moral
obligation whatever may be evaded. Here is scope,
I say, for an unftxir mind to explain away every
moral obligation to itself. Whether men reflect again
upon this internal management and artifice, and
how explicit they are with themselves, is another
question. There are many operations of the mind,
many things pass within, which we never reflect
upon again ; which a by-stander, from having fre-
quent opportunities of observmg us and our conduct,
may make shrewd guesses at.
That great numbers are in this way of deceiving
themselves is certam. There is scarce a man in
the world, who has entirely got over all regards,
hopes, and fears, concerning God and a future state ;
and these apprehensions in the generality, bad as we
are, prevail in considerable degrees : yet men will
and can be vdcked, with calmness and thought ;
we see thej are. There must therefore be some
method of making it sit a little easy upon their
minds ; which, in the superstitious, is those indul-
gences and atonements before mentioned, and tliis
self-deceit of another kind in persons of another
character. And both tliese proceed from a certain
unfairness of mind, a peculiar inward dishonesty ;
the direct contrary to that simplicity which our
Saviour recommends, under the notion of hecoyning
little children, as a necessary qualification for our
entering into the kingdom of heaven.
But to conclude : How much soever men differ in
the course of life they prefer, and in their ways of
palliating and excusing their vices to themselves ;
yet all agree in the one thing, desiring to die the death
of the righteous. This is surely remarkable. The
observation may be extended further, and put thus :
90 UPON THE CHAllACTER OF BALAAM.
Even witlioiit determininor what that is which we
call guilt or innocence, there is no man but would
choose, after having had the pleasure or advantage
of a vicious action, to be free of the guilt of it, to be in
the state of an innocent man. This shews at least
the disturbance and implicit dissatisfaction in vice.
If we inquire into the grounds of it, we shall find it
proceeds partly from an immediate sense of having
done evil, and partly from an apprehension, that this
inward sense shall one time or anotlier be seconded
by an higher judgment, upon which our whole being
depends. Now to suspend and drown this sense,
and these apprehensions, be it by the hurry of busi-
ness or of pleasure, or by superstition, or moral
equivocations, this is in a manner one and the same,
and makes no alteration at all in the nature of our
case. Things and actions are what they are, and
the consequences of them will be what they will be :
why then should we desire to be deceived 1 As we
are reasonable creatures, and have any regard to
ourselves, we ought to lay these things plainly and
honestly before our mind, and upon this, act as you
please, as you think most fit ; make that choice, and
prefer that course of life, which you can justify to
yourselves, and which sits most easy upon your own
mind. It will immediately appear, that vice cannot
be the happiness, but must upon the whole be the
misery, of such a creature as man ; a moral, an
accountable agent. Superstitious observances, self-
deceit though of a more refined sort, will not in
reality at all mend matters with us. And the result
of the whole can be nothing else, but that with
simplicity and fairness we keej) innocencij, and take
heed unto the thing that is right ; for this alone shall
bring a man jjeace at the last.
SERMON ym.
UPON RESENTMENT.
Matt. v. 43, 44.
Ye have heard that it hath been said. Thou shalt love thy neigh'
hour, and hate thine enemy. But I say unto you. Love your
enemies, hless them that curse you, do good to them that hate
you, and pray for them tchich desjntefuUy use you, and perse-
cute you.
^INCE perfect goodness in the Deity is the prin-
ciple from wlience the universe was brought into
being, and by which it is preserved ; and since
general benevolence is the great law of the whole
moral creation : it is a question which immediately
occurs, Why had man imjjlanted in him a ^^rincii^le,
lohich aj)]^ears the direct contrary to henevolencef
Now the foot upon which inquiries of this kind
should be treated is this : to take human nature
as it is, and the circumstances in which it is placed
as they are ; and then consider the correspondence
between that nature and those circumstances, or
what course of action and behaviour, respecting
those circumstances, any particular affection or
passion leads us to. This I mention to distinguish
the matter now before us from disquisitions of
quite another kind ; namely, Why ive are not made
mo7'e perfect creatures, or placed in letter circum-
92 UPON RESENTMENT. [SERM.
stances ? these being questions wliicli we have not,
that I know of, any thing at all to do with. God
Almighty undoubtedly foresaw the disorders, both
natural and moral, which would happen in this
state of things. If upon this we set ourselves to
search and examine why he did not prevent them ;
we shall, I am afraid, be in danger of running into
somewhat worse than impertinent curiosity. But
upon this to examine how far the nature which
he hath given us hath a respect to those circum-
stances, such as they are ; how far it leads us to
act a proper part in them ; plainly belongs to us :
and such inquiries are in many ways of excellent
use. Thus the thing to be considered is, not. Why
we tvere not made of such a nature, and placed in
such circumstances, as to have no need of so harsh and
turbulent a 2^(^ssi')n as resentment : but, taking our
nature and condition as being what they are, Why or
for luhat end such a ])assion was given us : and this
chiefly in order to shew what are the abuses of it.
The persons who laid down for a rule, Thou shalt
love thy neighbour, and hate thine enemy, made short
work with this matter. Thev did not, it seems,
perceive any thing to be disapproved in hatred,
more than in good-will : and, according to their
system of morals, our enemy was the proper
natural object of one of these passions, as our
neighbour was of the other of them.
This was all they had to say, and all they
thought needful to be said, upon the subject. But
this cannot be satisfactory ; because hatred, malice,
and revenge, are directly contrary to the religion
we profess, and to the natu]'e and reason of the
thing itself; Therefore, since no passion God hath
endued us with can be in itself evil ; and yet since
VI n.] UPON RESENTMENT. 93
men frequently indulge a passion in such ways and
degrees that at length it becomes quite another
thing from what it was originally in our nature ;
and those vices of malice and revenge in particular
take their occasion from the natural passion of re-
sentment : it will be needful to trace this up to
its original, that we may see, ivhat it is in itself,
as j)laced in our nature hy its Author; from which
it will plainly appear, for what ends it ivas placed
there. And when we know what the passion is
in itself, and the ends of it, we shall easily see,
ivhat are the abuses of it, in ivhich 7nalice and re-
venge consist ; and which are so strongly forbidden
in the text, by the direct contrary being commanded.
Resentment is of two kinds : hasty and sudden, or
settled and deliberate. The former is called anger,
and often passion ; which, though a general word,
is frequently appropriated and confined to the par-
ticular feeling, sudden anger, as distinct from de-
liberate resentment, malice, and revenge. In all
these words is usually implied somewhat vicious ;
somewhat unreasonable as to the occasion of the
passion, or immoderate as to the degree or dura-
tion of it. But that the natural passion itself is
indifferent, St. Paul has asserted in that precept.
Be ye angry, and sin not ^ : which though it is by
no means to be understood as an encouragement to
indulge ourselves in anger, the sense being certainly
this. Though ye be angry, sin not ; yet here is evi-
dently a distinction made between anger and sin ;
between the natural passion, and sinful anger.
Sudden anger, upon certain occasions, is mere in-
stinct : as merely so, as the disposition to close our
eyes upon the apprehension of somewhat faUing into
a Ephes. iv. 26.
94 UPON RESENTMENT. [SERM.
them ; and no more necessarily implies any degree
of reason. I say, necessarily: for to be sure hasty, as
well as deliberate, anger may be occasioned by injury
or contempt; in which cases reason suggests to our
thoughts that injury and contempt, which is the
occasion of the passion : but I am speaking of the
former only so far as it is to be distinguished from
the latter. The only way in which our reason and
understanding can raise anger, is by representing to
our mind injustice or injury of some kind or other.
Now momentary anger is frequently raised, not only
without any real, but without any apparent reason ;
that is, without any appearance of injury, as distinct
from hurt or pain. It cannot, I suppose, be thought,
that this passion, in infiints ; in the lower species of
animals ; and, which is often seen, in men towards
them ; it cannot, I say, be imagined, that these
instances of this passion are the effect of reason : no,
they are occasioned by mere sensation and feeling.
It is opposition, sudden hurt, violence, which natur-
ally excites the passion ; and the real demerit or
fault of him who offers that violence, or is the cause
of that opposition or hurt, does not, in many cases,
so much as come into thought.
The reason and end, for w'hich man was made thus
liable to this passion, is, that he might be better
qualified to prevent, and likewise (or perhaps chiefly)
to resist and defeat, sudden force, violence, and oppo-
sition, considered merely as such, and without regard
to the fault or demerit of him who is the author of
them. Yet, since violence may be considered in this
other and further view, as implying fault ; and since
injury, as distinct from harm, may raise sudden
anger ; sudden anger may likewise accidentally serve
to prevent, or remedy, such fault and injury. But,
V
A'lII.] UPON RESENTMENT. 95
considered as distinct from settled anger, it stands in
our nature for self-defence, and not for the adminis-
tration of justice. There are plainly cases, and in
the uncultivated parts of the world, and, where
regular governments are not formed, they frequently
happen, in which there is no time for consideration,
and yet to be passive is certain destruction ; in
which sudden resistance is the only security.
But from this, deliberate anger or resentment is es-
sentially distinguished, as the latter is not naturally
excited by, or intended to prevent mere harm with-
out appearance of wrong or injustice. Now, in order
to see, as exactly as we can, what is the natural
object and occasion of sucli resentment ; let us reflect
upon the manner in which we are touched with
reading, suppose, a feigned story of baseness and
villainy, properly worked up to move our passions.
This immediately raises indignation, somewhat of a
desire that it should be punished. And though the
designed injury be prevented, yet that it was de-
signed is sufficient to raise this inward feeling.
Suppose the story true, this inward feeling would be
as natural and as just : and one may venture to
affirm, that there is scarce a man in the world, but
would have it upon some occasions. It seems in us
plainly connected with a sense of virtue and vice, of
moral good and evil. Suppose further, we knew
both the person who did and who suffered the
injury : neither would this make any alteration, only
that it would probably affect us more. The indigna-
tion raised by cruelty and injustice, and the desire
of having it punished, which persons unconcerned
would feel, is by no means malice. No, it is resent-
ment against vice and wickedness : it is one of the
common bonds, by which society is held together;
96 UPON RESENTMENT. [SERM.
a fellow-feeling, which each individual has in behalf
of the whole species, as well as of himself. And it
does not appear that tliis, generally speaking, is at
all too high amongst mankind. Suppose now the
injury I have been speaking of to be done against
ourselves ; or those whom we consider as ourselves.
It is plain, the way in which we should be affected
would be exactly the same in kind : but it would
certainly be in a higher degree, and less transient ;
because a sense of our own hajopiness and misery is
most intimately and always present to us ; and from
the very constitution of our nature, we cannot but
have a greater sensibility to, and be more deeply
interested in, what concerns ourselves. And this
seems to be the whole of this passion, which is,
properly speaking, natural to mankind : namely, a
resentment against injury and wickedness in general;
and in a higher degree when towards ourselves, in
proportion to the greater regard which men naturally
have for themselves, than for others. From hence it
appears, that it is not natural, but moral evil ; it is
not suffering, but injury, which raises that anger or
resentment, which is of any continuance. The
natural object of it is not one, who appears to the
suffering person to have been only the innocent
occasion of his pain or loss ; but one, who has been
in a moral sense injurious either to ourselves or
others. This is abundantly confirmed by observing
what it is which heightens or lessens resentment ;
namely, the same which aggravates or lessens the
fault : friendship, and former obligations, on one
hand ; or inadvertency, strong temptations, and
mistake, on the other. All this is so much under-
stood by mankind, how little soever it be reflected
upon, that a jierson would be reckoned quite dis-
VIII.] UPON RESENTMENT. 97
tractecl, who should coolly resent an harm, which
had not to himself the appearance of injury or
wrono-. Men do indeed resent what is occasioned
through carelessness : but then they expect ob-
servance as their due, and so that carelessness is
considered as faulty. It is likewise true, that they
resent more strongly an injury done, than one which,
though designed, was prevented, in cases where the
guilt is perhaps the same : the reason however is,
not that bare pain or loss raises resentment, but,
that it gives a new, and, as I may speak, additional
sense of the injury or injustice. According to the
natural course of the passions, the degrees of re-
sentment are in proportion, not only to the degree of
design and deliberation in the injurious person; but
in proportion to this, joined with the degree of the
evil designed or premeditated ; since this likewise
comes in to make the injustice greater or less. And
the evil or harm will appear greater when they feel
it, than when they only reflect upon it : so therefore
will the injury: and consequently the resentment
will be greater.
The natural object or occasion of settled resent-
ment then being injury, as distinct from pain or loss;
it is easy to see, that to prevent and to remedy such
injury, and the miseries arising from it, is the end
for which this passion was implanted in man. It is
to be considered as a weapon, put into our hands by
nature, against inj^u-y, injustice, and cruelty : how it
may be innocently employed and made use of, shall
presently be mentioned.
The account which has been now given of this
passion is, in brief, that sudden anger is raised by,
and was chiefly intended to prevent or remedy,
mere harm distinct from injury : but that it may be
BXJTLER, SERMONS. H
98 UPON EESENTMENT. [SERM.
raised by injury, and may serve to prevent or to
remedy it ; and then the occasions and effects of it
are the same with the occasions and effects of de-
hberate anger. But they are essentially dis-
tinguished in this, that the latter is never occasioned
by harm, distinct from injury; and its natural
proper end is to remedy or prevent only that harm,
wliich implies, or is supposed to imply, injury or
moral wrong. Every one sees that these observa-
tions do not relate to those, who have habitually
suppressed the course of their passions and affections,
out of regard either to interest or virtue ; or who,
from habits of vice and folly, have changed their
nature. But, I suppose, there can be no doubt but
this, now described, is the general course of resent-
ment, considered as a natural passion, neither in-
creased by indulgence, nor corrected by virtue, nor
prevailed over by other passions, or particular habits
of life.
As to the abuses of anger, which it is to be
observed may be in all different degrees, the first
which occurs is what is commonly called passion; to
which some men are liable, in the same way as
others are to the epilepsy, or any sudden particular
disorder. This distemper of the mind seizes them
upon the least occasion in the world, and perpetually
without any real reason at all : and by means of it
they are plauily, every day, every waking hour of
their hves, liable and in danger of running into the
most extravagant outrages. Of a less boisterous,
but not of a less innocent kind, is peevishness ;
which I mention with pity, with real pity to the
unhappy creatures, who, from their inferior station,
or other cu'cumstances and relations, are obliged to
be in the way of, and to serve for a supply to it.
VIII.] UrON RESENTMENT. 99
Both these, for ought that I can see, are one and the
same principle : but, as it takes root in minds of
different makes, it appears differently, and so is
come to be chstinguished by different names. That
which in a more feeble temper is peevishness, and
languidly discharges itself upon every thing which
comes in its way ; the same prmciple, in a temper of
greater force and stronger passions, becomes rage and
fury. In one, the humour discharges itself at once ;
in the other, it is continually discharging. This is the
account of passion and 2^e<^f^ishwss, as distinct from
each other, and appearing in different persons. It is
no objection against the truth of it, that they are both
to be seen sometimes in one and the same person.
With respect to deliberate resentment, the chief
instances of abuse are : when, from partiality to
ourselves, we imagine an injury done us, when there
is none : when this partiality represents it to us
greater than it really is : when we fall into that
extravagant and monstrous kind of resentment,
towards one who has innocently been the occasion of
evil to us ; that is, resentment upon account of pain
or inconvenience, without injury ; which is the same
absurdity, as settled anger at a thing that is inani-
mate : when the indignation against injury and
injustice rises too high, and is beyond proportion to
the particular ill action it is exercised upon : or,
lastly, when pain or harm of any kind is inflicted
merely in consequence of, and to gratify, that resent-
ment, though naturally raised.
It would be endless to descend into and explain
all the peculiarities of perverseness and wayward
humour which might be traced up to this passion.
But there is one thing, which so generally belongs to
and accompanies all excess and abuse of it, as to
II 2
100 UPON EESENTMENT. [SERM.
require being mentioned : a certain determination,
and resolute bent of mind, not to be convinced or
set right ; though it be ever so plain, that there is
no reason for the displeasure, that it was raised
merely by error or misunderstanding. In this there
is doubtless a great mixture of pride ; but there is
somewhat more, which I cannot otherwise express,
than, that resentment has taken possession of the
temper and of the mind, and will not quit its hold.
It would be too minute to inquire whether this be
any thing more than bare obstinacy : it is sufficient
to observe, that it, in a very particular manner and
degree, belongs to the abuses of this passion.
But, notwithstanding all these abuses, " Is not
just indignation against cruelty and wrong one of
the instruments of death, which the Author of our
nature hath provided 1 Are not cruelty, injustice,
and wrong, the natural objects of that indignation ?
Surely then it may one way or other be inno-
cently employed against them." True. Suice there-
fore it is necessary for the very subsistence of the
world, that injury, injustice, and cruelty, should
be punished ; and since compassion, wliich is so
natural to mankind, would render that execution of
justice exceedingly difficult and uneasy ; indignation
against vice and wickedness is, and may be allowed
to be, a balance to that weakness of pity, and also
to any thing else which would prevent the neces-
sary methods of severity. Those who have never
thought upon these subjects, may perhaps not see
the weight of this : but let us suppose a person
guilty of murder, or any other action of cruelty,
and that mankind had naturally no indignation
against such wickedness and the authors of it ; but
that every body was affected towards such a criminal
VIII.] UPON RESENTMENT. 101
in the same way as towards an innocent man :
compassion, amongst other things, would render the
execution of justice exceedingly painful and difficult,
and would often quite prevent it. And notwith-
standing that the principle of benevolence is denied
by some, and is really in a very low degree, that
men are in great measure insensible to the happiness
of their fellow-creatures ; yet they are not insensible
to their misery, but are very strongly moved with
it : insomuch that there plainly is occasion for that
feeling, which is raised by guilt and demerit, as
a balance to that of compassion. Thus much may
I think justly be allowed to resentment, in the
strictest way of moral consideration.
The good influence which this passion has in fact
upon the afi'airs of the world, is obvious to every one's
notice. Men are j^lainly restrained from injuring
their fellow-creatures by fear of their resentment ;
and it is very happy that they are so, when they
would not be restrained by a principle of virtue.
And after an injury is done, and there is a necessity
that the offender should be brought to justice ; the
cool consideration of reason, that the security and
peace of society requires examples of justice should
be made, might indeed be sufficient to procure laws
to be enacted, and sentence passed : but is it that
cool reflection in the injured person, which, for the
most part, brings the offender to justice 1 Or is it
not resentment and indignation against the injury
and the author of it "? I am afraid there is no doubt,
which is commonly the case. This however is to be
considered as a good effect, notwithstanding it were
much to be wished that men would act from a
better principle, reason and cool reflection.
The account now given of the passion of resent-
102 UPON RESENTMENT.
ment, as distinct from all the abuses of it, may
suggest to our thoughts the following reflections :
First, That vice is indeed of ill desert, and must
finally be punished. Why should men dispute con-
cerning the reality of virtue, and whether it be
founded in the nature of things, which yet surely
is not matter of question ; but why should this, I
say, be disputed, when every man carries about him
this passion, which affords him demonstration, that
the rules of justice and equity are to be the guide of
his actions "? For every man naturally feels an in-
dignation upon seeing instances of villainy and base-
ness, and therefore cannot commit the same without
being self-condemned.
Secondly, That we should learn to be cautious,
lest we charge God foolishly, by ascribing that to
him, or the nature he has given us, which is owing
wholly to our own abuse of it. Men may speak
of the degeneracy and corruption of the world, ac-
cording to the experience they have had of it ; but
human nature, considered as the divine workman-
ship, should methinks be treated as sacred: for in
the image of God made he man. That passion, from
whence men take occasion to run into the dreadful
vices of malice and revenge ; even that passion, as
implanted in our nature by God, is not only innocent,
but a generous movement of mind. It is in itself,
and in its original, no more than indignation against
injury and wickedness : that which is the only de-
formity in the creation, and the only reasonable
object of abhorrence and dislike. How manifold
evidence have, we of the divine wisdom and
goodness, when even pain in the natural world, and
the passion we have been now considering in the
moral, come out instances of it !
SERMON K.
UPON FORGIVENESS OF INJURIES.
Matt. v. 43, 44.
Ye have heard that it hath been said, Thou shalt love thy neigh-
hour, and hate thine enemy. But I say unto you, Love your
enemies, Mess them that curse you, do good to them that hate
yo7i, and pray for them which despitefully use you, and perse-
cute you.
A S God Almighty foresaw the irregularities and
■^^ disorders, both natural and moral, which
would happen in this state of things ; he hath gra-
ciously made some provision against them, by giving
us several passions and affections, which arise from,
or whose objects are, those disorders. Of this sort
are fear, resentment, compassion, and others ; of
which there could be no occasion or use in a perfect
state : but in the present we should be exposed to
greater inconveniences without them; though there
are very considerable ones, which they themselves
are the occasions of. They are encumbrances indeed,
but such as we are obliged to carry about with us,
through this various journey of life : some of them
as a guard against the violent assaults of others,
and in our own defence ; some in behalf of others ;
and aU of them to put us upon, and help to carry
us through a course of behaviour suitable to our
104 UPON FORGn^ENESS OF INJURIES. [SERM.
condition, in default of that perfection of ^visdom and
virtue, which would he in all respects our hotter
security.
The passion of anger or resentment hath already
been laro-elv treated of. It hath been shewn, that
mankind naturally feel some emotion of mind against
injuiy and injustice, whoever are the sufferers by
it ; and even though the injurious design be pre-
vented, from taking effect. Let this be called anger,
indignation, resentment, or by whatever name any
one shall choose ; the tlnng itself is understood, and is
plauily natural. It has hkewise been observed, that
this natural indignation is generally moderate and
low enough in mankind, in each particular man,
when the injury which excites it doth not affect him-
self, or one whom he considers as himself. Therefore
the precepts to forgive, and to love our enemies,
do not relate to that general indignation against
injury and the authors of it, but to this feeling, or
resentment when raised by private or personal m-
jury. But no man could be thought in earnest,
who should assert, that, though indignation against
injury, when others are the sufferers, is innocent and
just ; yet the same indignation against it, when we
ourselves are the sufferers, becomes faulty and blame-
able. These precepts therefore cannot be understood
to forbid this in the latter case, more than in the
former. Nay they cannot be understood to forbid
this feehng in the latter case, though i-aised to a
higher degree than in the former : because, as was
also observed further, from the very constitution of
our nature, we cannot but have a greater sensibility
to what concerns ourselves. Therefore the precepts
in the text, and others of the like import with them,
must be understood to forbid only the excess and
IX.] UPON FOEGIVENESS OF INJURIES. 105
abuse of this natural feeling, in cases of personal
and private injury : the chief instances of which
excess and abuse have likewise been already re-
marked ; and all of them, excepting that of retalia-
tion, do so plainly in the very terms express some-
what unreasonable, disproportionate, and absurd, as
to admit of no pretence or shadow of justification.
But since custom and false honour are on the side
of retaliation and revenge, when the resentment is
natural and just ; and reasons are sometimes offered
in justification of revenge in these cases ; and since
love of our enemies is thought too hard a saying to
be obeyed : I will shew the absolute unlaivfulness of
the former; the obligations tve are under to the latter;
and then proceed to some reflections, which may have
a more direct and immediate tendency to beget in
us a right temper of mind toivards those ivho have
ojfcnded us.
In showing the unlawfulness of revenge, it is
not my present design to examine what is alleged
in favour of it, from the tyranny of custom and false
honour, but only to consider the nature and reason of
the thing itself; which ought to have prevented, and
ought now to extirpate, every thing of that kind.
First, Let us begin with the supposition of that
being innocent, which is pleaded for, and which shall
be shewn to be altogether vicious, the supposition
that we were allowed to render evil for evil, and see
what would be the consequence. Malice or resent-
ment towards any man hath plainly a tendency to
beget the same passion in him who is the object of
it ; and this again increases it in the other. It is
of the very nature of this vice to propagate itself, not
only by way of example, which it does in common
with other vices, but in a peculiar way of its own ;
106 UPON FORGIVENESS OF INJURIES. [SERM.
for resentment itself, as well as what is done in con-
sequence of it, is the object of resentment : hence
it comes to pass, that the first offence, even when
so slight as presently to be dropped and forgotten,
becomes the occasion of entering into a long inter-
course of ill offices ; neither is it at all uncommon to
see persons, in this progress of strife and variance,
change parts ; and him, who was at first the injured
person, become more injurious and blameable than
the aggressor. Put the case then, that the law of re-
taliation was universally received and allowed as an
innocent rule of life, by all ; and the observance of it
thought by many (and then it would soon come to be
thought by all) a point of honour : this supposes
every man in private cases to pass sentence in his own
cause; and likewise, that anger or resentment is to
be the judge. Thus, from the numberless partialities
which we all have for ourselves, every one would
often think himself injured when he was not : and
in most cases would represent an injury as much
greater than it really is ; the imagined dignity of the
person offended would scarce ever fail to magnify the
offence. And, if bare retaliation, or returning just
the mischief received, always begets resentment in
the person upon whom we retaliate, what would
that excess do 1 Add to this, that he likewise has
his partialities — there is no going on to represent
this scene of rage and madness : it is manifest there
would be no bounds, nor any end. If the beginning
of strife is as ivhen one letteth out watei\ what would
it come to when allowed this free and unrestrained
course ? As coals are to burning coals, or ivood to
fire ; so would these contentious men be to kindle
strife. And, since the indulgence of revenge hath
manifestly this tendency, and does actually produce
IX.] UPON FOEGIVENESS OF INJURIES. 107
these effects in proportion as it is allowed ; a passion
of so dangerous a nature ought not to be indulged,
were there no other reason against it.
Secondly, It hath been shewn that the passion of
resentment was placed in man, upon supposition of,
and as a prevention or remedy to, irregularity and
disorder. Now whether it be allowed or not, tliat
the passion itself and the gratification of it joined
together are painful to the malicious person; it must
however be so with, respect to the person towards
Mdiom it is exercised, and upon whom the revenge is
taken. Now, if we consider mankind, according to
that fine allusion of St. Paul, as one body, and every
one members one of another^; it must be allowed
that resentment is, with respect to societ}^ a painful
remedy. Thus then the very notion or idea of this
passion, as a remedy or prevention of evil, and as in
itself a painful means, plainly shews that it ought
never to be made use of, but only in order to produce
some greater good.
It is to be observed, that this argument is not
founded upon an allusion or simile; but that it
is drawn from the very nature of the passion itself,
and the end for which it was given us. We are
obliged to make use of words taken from sensible
things, to explain what is the most remote from
them : and every one sees from whence the words
Prevention and Kemedy are taken. But, if you
please, let these words be dropped : the thing itself,
I suppose, may be expressed without them.
That manlrind is a community, that we all stand
in a relation to each other, that there is a public end
and interest of society which each particular is obliged
to promote, is the sum of morals. Consider then the
passion of resentment, as given to this one body,
108 UPON FORGIVENESS OF INJURIES. [SERM.
as given to society. Nothing can be more manifest,
than that resentment is to be considered as a secondary
passion, placed in ns upon supposition, upon account
of, and with regard to, injury; not, to be sure, to
promote and further it, but to render it, and the
inconveniences and miseries arising from it, less and
fewer than they would be without this passion. It
is as manifest, that the indulgence of it is, with
regard to society, a painful means of obtaining these
ends. Considered in itself, it is very undesu'able,
and what society must very much wish to be mth-
out. It is in every instance absolutely an evil in
itself, because it implies producing misery : and con-
sequently must never be indulged or gratified for
itself, by any one who considers mankind as a com-
munity or family, and himself as a member of it.
Let us now take this in another view. Every
natural appetite, passion, and affection, may be grati-
fied in particular instances, without being subservient
to the particular chief end, for which these several
principles were respectively implanted in our nature.
And, if neither this end, nor any other moral obliga-
tion, be contradicted, such gratification is innocent.
Thus, I suppose, there are cases in which each of
these principles, this one of resentment excepted,
may innocently be gratified, without being subser-
vient to what is the main end of it : that is, though
it does not conduce to, yet it may be gratified without
contradicting, that end, or any other obligation. But
the gratification of resentment, if it be not conducive
to the end for which it was given us, must neces-
sarily contradict, not only the general obligation to
benevolence, but likewise that particular end itself
The end, for which it was given, is to prevent or
remedy injury; i. e. the misery occasioned by injury;
IX.] UPON FORGIVEXESS OF INJURIES. 109
i. e. misery itself: and the gratification of it consists
in producing misery; i.e. in contradicting the end
for which it was implanted in our nature.
This whole reasoning is built upon the difference
there is between this passion and all others. No
other principle, or passion, hath for its end the misery
of our fellow-creatures. But malice and revenge
meditates evil itself; and to do mischief, to be the
author of misery, is the very thing which gratifies
the passion : this is what it directly tends towards,
as its proper design. Other vices eventually do
mischief: this alone aims at it as an end.
Nothing can with reason be urged in justification
of revenge, from the good effects which the indulgence
of it were before mentioned ^ to have upon the affairs
of the world; because, though it be a remarkable
instance of the wisdom of Providence to bring good
out of evil, yet vice is vice to him who is guilty
of it. " But suppose these good effects are foreseen :"
that is, suppose reason in a particular case leads a
man the same way as passion 1 Why then, to be
sure, he should follow his reason, in this as well as in
all other cases. So that, turn the matter which way
ever you will, no more can be allowed to this passion
than what hath been already ^.
As to that love of our enemies, which is com-
manded ; this supposes the general obligation to
benevolence or good- will towards mankind : and this
being supposed, that precept is no more than to
forgive injuries ; that is, to keep clear of those abuses
before mentioned : because that we have the habitual
temper of benevolence is taken for granted.
Resentment is not inconsistent with good-will ;
for we often see both together in very high degrees ;
a Serm. YIII. p. loi. ^ Ibid. p. loo.
110 UPON FORGIVENESS OF INJURIES. [SERM.
not only in parents towards their children, but in
cases of friendship and dependence, where there is no
natural relation. These contrary passions, though
they may lessen, do not necessarily destroy each
other. \ We may therefore love our enemy, and yet
have resentment against him for his injurious be-
haviour towards us. But when this resentment en-
tirely destroys our natural benevolence towards him,
it is excessive, and becomes malice or revenge. The
command to prevent its having tliis effect, i.e. to
forgive injuries, is the same as to love our enemies ;
because that love is always supposed, unless destroyed
by resentment.
" But though mankind is the natural object of
benevolence, yet may it not be lessened upon vice,
i. e. injury '?" Allowed : but if every degree of vice
or injury must destroy that benevolence, then no
man is the object of our love ; for no man is with-
out faults.
" But if lower instances of injury may lessen our
benevolence, why may not higher, or the highest, de-
stroy it V The answer is obvious. It is not man's
beincj a social creature, much less his being a moral
agent, from whence alone our obligations to good-
will towards liim arise. There is an obhgation to it
prior to either of these, arising from his bemg a
sensible creature ; that is, capable of happiness or
misery. Now this obligation cannot be superseded
by his moral character. What justifies public execu-
tions is, not that the guilt or demerit of the criminal
dispenses with the obligation . of good- will, neither
would this justify any severity ; but, that his hfe is
inconsistent with the quiet and happiness of the
world : that is, a general and more enlarged obli-
gation necessarily destroys a particular and more
IX.] UPOX FORGIVENESS OF INJURIES. Ill
confined one of the same kind, inconsistent with it.
Guilt or injury then does not dispense with or super-
sede the duty of love and good-will.
Neither does that peculiar regard to ourselves,
which was before allowed to be natural'^ to mankind,
dispense with it : because that can no way innocently
heighten our resentment against those who have been
injurious to ourselves in particular, any otherwise
than as it heightens our sense of the injury or guilt;
and guilt, though in the highest degree, does not,
as hath been shewn, dispense with or supersede the
duty of love and good-will.
If all this be true, what can a man sav, who will
dispute the reasonableness, or the possibility, of
obeying the divine precept we are now considering 1
Let him speak out, and it must be thus he will speak :
" Mankind, i. e. a creature defective and faulty, is the
proper object of good-will, whatever his faults are,
when they respect others ; but not when they respect
me myself" That men should be affected in this
manner, and act accordingly, is to be accounted for
like other vices ; but to assert that it oiiglit and
must be thus, is self-partiality possessed of the very
understanding.
Thus love to our enemies, and those who have
been injurious to us, is so far from being a rant, as it
has been profanely called, that it is in truth the law of
our nature, and what every one must see and own,
who is not quite blinded with self-love.
From hence it is easy to see, what is the degree in
which we are commanded to love our enemies, or
those who have been injurious to us. It were well if
it could as easily be reduced to practice. It cannot
be imagined, that we are required to love them with
c Serm. VIII. p. g6.
112 UPON FOEGIVENESS OF INJURIES. [SERM.
any peculiar kind of affection. But suppose the person
injured to have a due natural sense of the injury, and
no more ; he ought to be affected towards the hiju-
rious person in the same way any good men, unin-
terested in the case, would be; if they had the same
just sense, which we have supposed the injured person
to have, of the fault : after which there will yet re-
main real good-will towards the offender.
Now what is there in all this, which should be
thought impracticable '? I am sure there is nothing
in it unreasonable. It is indeed no more than that
we should not indulge a passion, which, if generally
indulged, would propagate itself so as almost to lay
waste the world : that we should suppress that partial,
that false self-love, which is the weakness of our na-
ture : that uneasiness and misery should not be pro-
duced, without any good purpose to be served by it :
and that we should not be affected towards persons
differently from what their nature and character
require.
But since to be convinced that any temper of mind,
and course of behaviour, is our duty, and the con-
trary vicious, hath but a distant influence upon our
temper and actions ; let me add some few reflections,
which may have a more direct tendency to subdue
those vices in the heart, to beget in us this right
temper, and lead us to a right behaviour towards
those who have offended us: which reflections how-
ever shall be such as will further shew the obligations
we are under to it.
No one, I suppose, would choose to have an indig-
nity put upon him, or to be injuriously treated. If
then there be any probability of a misunderstanding in
the case, either from our imagining we are injured
when we are not, or representing the injury to our-
IX.] UPON FORGIVENESS OF INJURIES. 113
selves as greater than it really is ; one would hope an
intimation of this sort might be kindly received, and
that people would be glad to find the injury not so
great as they imagined. Therefore, without knowing
particulars, I take upon me to assure all persons who
think they have received indignities or injurious
treatment, that they may depend upon it, as in a
manner certain, that the offence is not so great as
they themselves imagine. We are in such a peculiar
situation, Avith respect to injuries done to ourselves,
that we can scarce any more see them as they really
are, than our eye can see itself If we could place
ourselves at a due distance, i. e. be really unpre-
judiced, we should frequently discern that to be in
reality inadvertence and mistake in our enemy, which
we now fancy we see to be malice or scorn. From
this proper point of view, we should likewise in all
probability see something of these latter in ourselves,
and most certainly a great deal of the former. Thus
the indignity or injury would almost infinitely lessen,
and perhaps at last come out to be nothing at all.
Self-love is a medium of a peculiar kind : in these
cases it magnifies every thing which is amiss in others,
at the same time that it lessens every thing amiss in
ourselves.
Anger also or hatred may be considered as another
false medium of viewing things, which always repre-
sents characters and actions much worse than they
really are. Ill-will not only never speaks, but never
thinks well, of the person towards whom it is exercised.
Thus in cases of ofience and enmity, the whole charac-
ter and behaviour is considered with an eye to that
particular part which has offended us, and the whole
man appears monstrous, without any thing right or
human in him : whereas the resentment should surely
BUTLER, SEEMONS. 1
114 UPON FORGIVENESS OF INJURIES. [SERM.
at least be confiued to that particular part of the be-
haviour which gave offence : since the other parts of
a man's life and character stand just the same as they
did before.
In general, there are very few instances of enmity
carried to any length, but inadvertency, misunder-
standing, some real mistake of the case, on one side
however, if not on both, has a great share in it.
If these thmgs were attended to, these ill-humours
could not be carried to any length amongst good men,
and they would be exceedingly abated amongst all.
And one would hope they might be attended to : for
all that these cautions come to is really no more than
desiring, that things maybe considered and judged of
as they are in themselves, that we should have an eye
to, and beware of, what would otherwise lead us into
mistakes. So that to make allowances for inadvert-
ence, misunderstanding, for the partialities of self-
love, and the false light which anger sets tilings in ;
I say, to make allowances for these, is not to be
spoken of as an instance of humbleness of mind, or
meekness and moderation of temper ; but as what
common sense should suggest, to avoid judging
wrong of a matter before us, though virtue and
morals were out of the case. And therefore it as
much belongs to ill men, who will indulge the vice I
have been arguing against, as to good men, who en-
deavour to subdue it in themselves. In a word, all
these cautions, concerning anger and self-love, are no
more than desiring a man, who was looldng through
a glass, which either magnified or lessened, to take
notice, that the objects are not in themselves what
they appear through that medium.
To all these things one might add, that, resentment
being out of the case, there is not, properly speaking,
IX.] UPON FOIIGIVENESS OF INJURIES. 115
any such tiling as direct ill-will in one man towards
another : therefore the first indignity or injury, if it be
not owing to inadvertence or misunderstanding, may
however be resolved into other particular passions or
self-love : principles quite distinct from ill-will, and
which we ought all to be disposed to excuse in others,
from experiencing so much of them in ourselves. A
great man of antiquity is reported to have said, that,
as he never was indulgent to any one fault in himself,
he could not excuse those of others. This sentence
could scarce with decency come out of the mouth
of any human creature. But if we invert the former
part, and put it thus : that he was indulgent to many
faults in himself, as it is to be feared the best of us
are, and yet was implacable ; how monstrous would
such an assertion appear ! And this is the case in
respect to every human creature, in proportion as
he is without the forgiving spirit I have been
recommending.
Further, though injury, injustice, oppression, the
baseness of ingratitude, are the natural objects of in-
dignation, or if you please of resentment, as before
explained; yet they are likewise the objects of com-
passion, as they aie their own punishment, and with-
out repentance will for ever be so. No one ever did
a designed injury to another, but at the same time
he did a much greater to himself. If therefore we
would consider things justly, such an one is, according
to the natural course of our affections, an object of
compassion, as well as of displeasure : and to be
affected really in this manner, I say reaUy, in oppo-
sition to show and pretence, ajrgues the true greatness
of mind. We have an example of forgiveness in this
way in its utmost perfection, and which indeed in-
cludes in it all that is good, in that prayer of our
I 2
116 UPON" FORGIVENESS OF INJURIES. [SERM.
blessed Saviour on the cross : Father, forgive them ;
for they knoiv not what they do.
But lastly, The offences which we are all guilty of
against God, and the injuries which men do to each
other, are often mentioned together : and, making
allowances for the infinite distance between the
Majesty of heaven, and a frail mortal, and likewise
for this, that he cannot possibly be affected or moved
as we are ; offences committed by others against our-
selves, and the manner in which we are apt to be
affected with them, give a real occasion for calling to
mind our own sins against God. Now there is an
apprehension and presentiment, natural to mankind,
that we ourselves shall one time or other be dealt
with as we deal with others ; and a peculiar acqui-
escence in, and feeling of, the equity and justice of
this equal distribution. This natural notion of equity
the Son of Sirach has put in the strongest way.
He that revengeth shall find vengeance from the Lord,
and he tvdl surely keep his sins in remembi^ance.
Forgive thy neighbour the hwt he hath do7ie unto thee,
so shall thy sins also be forgiven irhen thou 'prayest.
One man beareth hatred against another; and doth he
seek pardon from the Lord ? He sheiveth no mercy
to a man which is like himself; and doth he ask
forgiveness of his own sins ^ f Let any one read our
Saviour's parable of the king ivho took account of his
servants^ ; and the equity and rightness of the sen-
tence which was passed upon him who was unmerciful
to his fellow-servant, will be felt. There is somewhat
in human nature, which accords to and falls in with
that method of determination. Let us then place
before our eyes the time which is represented in the
parable ; that of our own death, or the final judgment,
t' Ecclus. xxviii. 1-4. ^ Matt, xviii.
IX.] UPON FORGIVENESS OF INJURIES. 117
Suppose yourselves under the apprehensions of ap-
proaching death; that you were just going to appear
naked and without disguise before the Judge of all
the earth, to give an account of your behaviour to-
wards your fellow-creatures : could any thing raise
more dreadful apprehensions of that judgment, than
the reflection that you had been implacable, and
without mercy towards those who had offended you :
without that forgiving spirit towards others, which
that it may now be exercised towards yourselves, is
yomr only hope '? And these natural apprehensions
are authorized by our Saviour's application of the
parable : So likeivise shall my heavenly Father do aUo
unto you, if ye from your hearts forgive not every one
his hrother their trespasses. On the other hand, sup-
pose a good man in the same circumstance, in the
last part and close of hfe ; conscious of many frailties,
as the best are, but conscious too that he had been
meek, forgiving, and merciful ; that he had in sim-
plicity of heart been ready to pass over offences
against himself : the having felt this good spirit will
give him, not only a full view of the amiableness of
it, but the surest hope that he shall meet with it in
his Judge. This likewise is confirmed by his own
declaration : If ye forgive men their t7^es])asses, your
heavenly Father will likeivise forgive you. And that we
might have a constant sense of it upon our mind, the
condition is expressed in our daily prayer. A for-
giving spirit is therefore absolutely necessary, as ever
we hope for pardon of our own sins, as ever we hope
for peace of mind in our dying moments, or for the
divine mercy at that day when we shall most stand
in need of it.
SERMON X.
UPON SELF-DECEIT.
2 Samuel xii. 7.
And Nathan said to David, Thou art the man.
nnHESE words are the application of Nathans
-*- parable to David, upon occasion of his adultery
with Bathsheba, and the murder of Uriah her
husband. The parable, which is related in the
most beautiful simplicity, is tliis : ^ There were two
men in one city ; the one rich, and the other poor.
The rich man had exceeding many jiocks and herds :
hut the 'poor man had jiothiiiy, save one little ewe-
lamb, which he had bought and nourished up : and
it greiv up together ivith him, and ivith his children ;
it did eat of his own meat, and dranh of his own
cup, and lay in his bosom, and ivas unto him as a
daughter. And there came a traveller unto the rich
man, and he spared to take of his own floch, and of
his own herd, to dress for the icayfaring man that
ivas come unto him ; but took the poor man's lamb,
and dressed it for the man that ivas come to him:
And Da^vid's anger ivas greatly kindled against the
man ; and he said to Nathan, as the Lord liveth, the
man that hath done this thing shall surely die: and he
a Ver. I.
UPON SELF-DECEIT. 119
shall restore the lamb fourfold, because he did this
thing, and because he had no pity. David passes sen-
tence, not only that there should be a fourfold resti-
tution made ; but he proceeds to the rigour of justice,
the man that hath done this thing shall die : and this
judgment is pronounced with the utmost indigna-
tion against such an act of inhumanity ; As the
Lord liveth, he shall surely die: and his anger ivas
greatly kindled against the man. And the prophet
answered, Thou art the man. He had been guilty
of much greater inhumanity, with the utmost de-
liberation, thought, and contrivance. Near a year
must have passed, between the time of the com-
mission of his crimes, and the time of the Prophet's
coming to him ; and it does not appear from the
story, that he had in all this while the least re-
morse or contrition.
There is not any thing, relating to men and
characters, more surprising and unaccountable, than
this partiality to themselves, which is observable
in many ; as there is nothing of more melancholy
reflection, respecting morality, virtue, and religion.
Hence it is that many men seem perfect strangers
to their own characters. They think and reason
and judge quite difierently upon any matter re-
lating to themselves, from what they do in cases
of others where they are not interested. Hence it
is one hears people exposing follies, which they
themselves are eminent for ; and talking with
great severity against particular vices, which, if all
the world be not mistaken, they themselves are
notoriously guilty of. This self-ignorance and self-
partiality may be in all different degrees. It is a
lower decree of it which David himself refers to in
these words, Who can tell Jioiv oft he offendeth ?
120 UPON SELF-DECEIT. [SEEM.
cleanse thou me from my secret faults. This is the
ground of that advice of Ehhu to Job : Surely it
is meet to he said unto God, — That which I see not,
teach thou me; if I have done iniquity, I will do
no more. And Solomon saw this thing in a very
strong light, when he said, He that trusteth his
oum heart is a fool. This likewise was the reason
why that precept, Knoiv thyself, was so frequently
inculcated by the philosophers of old. For if it
were not for that partial and fond regard to our-
selves, it would certainly be no great difficulty to
know our own character, what passes within the
bent and bias of our mind ; much less would there
be any difficulty m judging rightly of our own
actions. But from this partiality it frequently
comes to pass, that the observation of many men's
being themselves last of all acquainted with what
falls out in their own families, may be applied
to a nearer home, to what passes within their own
breasts.
There is plainly, in the generality of mankind, an
absence of doubt or distrust, in a very great measure,
as to their moral character and behaviour ; and like-
wise a disposition to take for granted, that all is
right and well with them in these respects. The
former is owing to their not reflecting, not exercising
their judgment upon themselves; the latter, to self-
love. I am not speaking of that extravagance,
which is sometimes to be met with ; instances of
persons declaring in words at length, that they
never were in the wrong, nor had ever any diffidence
of the justness of their conduct, in their whole lives.
No, these people are too far gone to have any thing
said to them. The thing before us is indeed of this
kind, but in a lower degree, and confined to the
X.] UPON SELF-DECEIT. 121
moral character ; somewhat of which we almost all
of us have, without reflecting upon it. Now con-
sider how long, and how grossly, a person of the best
understanding might be imposed upon by one of
whom he had not any suspicion, and in whom he
placed an entire confidence ; especially if there were
friendship and real kindness in the case : surely this
holds even stronger with respect to that self we are
all so fond of. Hence arises in men a disregard of
reproof and instruction, rules of conduct and moral
discipline, which occasionally come in their way : a
disregard, I say, of these ; not in every respect, but in
this single one, namely, as what may be of service to
tliem in particular towards mending their own hearts
and tempers, and making them better men. It
never in earnest comes into their thoughts, whether
such admonitions may not relate, and be of service to
themselves ; and this quite distinct from a positive
persuasion to the contrary, a persuasion from re-
flection that thev are innocent and blameless in
those respects. Thus we may invert the observation
which is somewhere made upon Brutus, that he
never read, but in order to make himself a better
man. It scarce comes into the thouo-hts of the
generality of mankind, that this use is to be made of
moral reflections which they meet with ; that this
use, I say, is to be made of them by themselves, for
every body observes and wonders that it is not done
by others.
Further, there are instances of persons having so
fixed and steady an eye upon their own interest,
whatever they place it in, and the interest of those
whom they consider as themselves, as in a manner to
regard nothing else ; their views are almost confined
to this alone. Now we cannot he acquainted with.
122 UPOX SELF-DECEIT. [SEKir.
or in any propriety of speech be said to know any
thing, but what we attend to. If tlierefore they
attend only to one side, they really will not, cannot
see or know what is to be alleged on the other.
Though a man hath the best eyes in the world, he
cannot see any way but that which he turns them.
Thus these persons, without passing over the least,
the most minute thing, which can possibly be urged
in favour of themselves, shall overlook entirely the
plainest and most obvious things on the other side.
And whilst they are under the power of this temper,
thought and consideration upon the matter before
them has scarce any tendency to set them right :
because they are engaged ; and their deliberation
concerning an action to be done, or reflection upon it
afterwards, is not to see whether it be right, but to
find out reasons to justify or palliate it ; palliate it,
not to others, but to themselves.
In some there is to be observed a general ignor-
ance of themselves, and wrong way of thinking and
judging in every thing relating to themselves ; their
fortune, reputation, every thing in which self can
come in : and this perhaps attended with the rightest
judgment in all other matters. In others, this
partiality is not so general, has not taken hold of
the whole 'man, but is confined to some particular
favourite passion, interest, or pursuit ; suppose am-
bition, coveteousness, or any other. And these
persons may probably judge and determine what is
perfectly just and proper, even in things in which
they themselves are concerned, if these things have
no relation to their particular favourite passion or
pursuit. Hence arises that amazing incongruity, and
seeming inconsistency of character, from whence
slight observers take it for granted, that the whole
X.] UPON SELF-DECEIT. 123
is hypocritical and false ; not being able otherwise
to reconcile the several parts : whereas in truth
there is real honesty, so far as it goes. There is
such a thing as men's being honest to such a degree,
and in such respects, but no further. And this, as it
is true, so it is absolutely necessary to be taken
notice of, and allowed them ; such general and un-
distinguishing censure of their whole character, as
designing and false, being one main thing which
confirms them in their self-deceit. They know that
the whole censure is not true ; and so take for
granted that no part of it is.
But to go on with the explanation of the thing
itself : Vice in general consists in having an un-
reasonable and too great regard to ourselves, in com-
parison of others. Eobbery and murder is never
from the love of injustice or cruelty, but to gratify
some other passion, to gain some supposed ad-
vantage : and it is false selfishness alone, whether
cool or passionate, which makes a man resolutely
pursue that end, be it ever so much to the injury of
another. But whereas, in common and ordinary
wickedness, this unreasonableness, this partiality and
selfishness, relates only, or chiefly, to the temper and
passions, in the characters we are now considering,
it reaches to the understanding, and influences the
very judgment ^. And, besides that general want of
b That peculiar regard for ourselves whicli frequently produces
this partiality of judgment in our own favour, may have a quite
contrary effect, and occasion the utmost diffidence and distrust of
ourselves; wei'e it only, as it may set us upon a more frequent
and strict survey and review of our own character and behaviour.
This search or recollection itself implies somewhat of diffidence ; and
the discoveries we make, what is brought to our view, may possibly
increase it. Good-will to another may either blind our judgment, so
as to make us overlook his faults ; or it may put us upon exercising
124
UPON SELF-DECEIT.
[seem.
distrust and diffidence concernino: our own cliaracter,
there are, you see, two things, which may thus
prejudice and darken the understanding itself: that
over-fondness for ourselves, which we are all so hable
to ; and also being under the power of any particular
jDassion or appetite, or engaged in any particular
pursuit. And these, especially the last of the two,
may be in so great a degree, as to influence our
judgment, even of other persons and their behaviour.
Thus a man, whose temper is formed to ambition or
coveteousness, shall even approve of them sometimes
in others.
This seems to be in a good measure the account of
self-partiality and self-deceit, when traced up to its
original. Whether it be or be not thought satis-
factory, that there is such a thing is manifest ; and
that it is the occasion of great pait of the unreason-
able behaviour of men towards each other : that bv
means of it they palliate their vices and follies to
themselves : and that it prevents their applying to
themselves thos3 reproofs and instructions, which
they meet with either in scripture or in moral and
religious discourses, though exactly suitable to the
state of their own mind, and the course of their
behaviour. There is one thing further to be added
that judgment with greater strictness, to see whether he is so fault-
less and perfect as we wish him. If that peculiar regard to ourselves
leads us to examine oui- own character with this greater severity,
in order really to im])rove and grow better, it is the most commend-
able turn of mind possible, and can scarce be to excess. But if, as
every thing hath its counterfeit, we are so much employed about
ourselves iu order to disguise what is amiss, and to make a better
appearance ; or if our attention to ourselves has chiefly this effect ;
it is liable to run up into the greatest weakness and excess, and is
like all other excesses its own disappointment : for scarce any shew
themselves to advantage, who arc over solicitous of doing so.
X.] UPON SELF-DECEIT. 125
here, that the temper we distinguish by hardness of
heart with respect to others, joined with this self-
partiality, will carry a man almost any lengths of
wickedness, in the way of oppression, hard usage of
others, and even to plain injustice ; without his
having, from what appears, any real sense at all of it.
This indeed was not the general character of David :
for he plainly gave scope to the affections of com-
passion and good-will, as well as to his passions of
another kind.
But as some occasions and circumstances lie more
open to this self-deceit, and give it greater scope and
opportunities than others, these require to he par-
ticularly mentioned.
It is to be observed then, that as there are express
determinate acts of wickedness, such as murder,
adultery, theft: so, on the other hand, there are
numberless cases in which the vice and wickedness
cannot be exactly defined ; but consists in a certain
general temper and course of action, or in the neglect
of some duty, suppose charity or any other, whose
bounds and degrees are not fixed. This is the very
province of self-deceit and self-partiality : here it
governs without check or control. " For what com-
mandment is there broken '? Is there a transgression
where there is no law "? a vice which cannot be
defined ^ "
Whoever will consider the whole commerce of
human life, will see that a great part, perhaps the
greatest part, of the intercourse amongst mankind,
cannot be reduced to fixed determinate rules. Yet
in these cases there is a right and a wrong : a merci-
ful, a hberal, a kind and compassionate behaviour,
which surely is our duty ; and an unmerciful con-
tracted spirit, an hard and ojDpressive course of
■J2G UPON SELF-DECEIT. [SERM.
behaviour, which is most certainly immoral and
vicious. But who can define precisely, wherein that
contracted spirit and hard usage of others consist, as
murder and theft may be defined ? There is not a
word in our language which expresses more detest-
able wickedness than oppression : yet the natirre of
this vice cannot be so exactly stated, nor the bounds
of it so determinately marked, as that we shall be
able to say in all mstances, where rigid right and
justice ends, and oppression begins. In these cases
there is great latitude left, for every one to deter-
mine for, and consequently to deceive himself. It is
chiefly in these cases that self-deceit comes in ; as
every one must see that there is much larger scope
for it here, than m express, single, determinate acts
of wickedness. However it comes in with respect
to the circumstances attending the most gross and
determinate acts of wickedness. Of this, the story of
David, now before us, afibrds the most astonishing
instance. It is really prodigious, to see a man,
before so remarkable for virtue and piety, going on
deliberately from adultery to murder, with the same
cool contrivance, and, from what appears, with as
little disturbance, as a man would endeavour to
prevent the ill consequences of a mistake he had
made in any common matter. That total insensi-
bility of mind with respect to those horrid crimes,
after the commission of them, manifestly shews that
he did some way or other delude himself : and this
could not be with respect to the crimes themselves,
they were so manifestly of the grossest kind. What
the particular circumstances were, with which he
extenuated them, and quieted and deceived himself,
is not related.
Having thus explained the nature of internal
X.] UPON SELF-DECEIT. 127
hypocrisy and self-deceit, and remarked the occasions
upon which it exerts itself; there are several things
further to be observed concerning it ; that all of the
sources, to which it was traced up, are sometimes
observable together in one and the same person : but
that one of them is more remarkable, and to a higher
degree, in some, and others of them are so in others :
that in general it is a complicated thing ; and may
be in all different degrees and kinds : that the
temper itself is essentially in its own nature vicious
and immoral. It is unfairness : it is dishonestv ; it
is falseness of heart : and is therefore so far from
extenuating guilt, that it is itself the greatest of all
guilt in proportion to the degree it prevails ; for it
is a corruption of the whole moral character in its
principle. Our understanding, and sense of good
and evil, is the light and guide of life : ^If therefore
this light that is in thee he darkness, how great is that
darkness ! For this reason our Saviour puts an
evil eye as the direct opposite to a single eye ; the
absence of that simj)licity, wliich these last words
imply, being itself evil and vicious. And whilst
men are under the power of this temper, in propor-
tion still to the degree they are so, they are fortified
on every side against conviction : and when they
hear the vice and folly of what is in truth their own
course of life, exposed in the justest and strongest
manner, they mil often assent to it, and even carry
the matter further ; persuading themselves, one does
not know how, but some way or other persuading
themselves, that they are out of the case, and that it
hath no relation to them. Yet, notwithstanding
this, there frequently appears a suspicion, that all is
not right, or as it should be ; and perhaps there
c Matt. vi. 23.
128 UPON SELF-DECEIT. [SERM.
is ahvays at bottom somewhat of this sort. There
are doubtless many instances of the ambitious, the
revengeful, the covetous, and those whom with too
great indulgence we only call the men of pleasure,
who will not allow themselves to thmk how guilty
they are, who explain and argue away their guilt to
themselves : and though they do really impose upon
themselves in some measure, yet there are none of
them but have, if not a proper knowledge, yet at
least an implicit suspicion, where the weakness lies,
and what part of their behaviour they have reason
to wish unknown or forgotten for ever. Truth, and
real good sense, and thorough integrity, carry along
with them a peculiar consciousness of their own
genuineness : there is a feeling belonging to them,
which does not accompany their coimterfeits, error,
folly, half-honesty, partial and slight regards to
virtue and right, so far only as they are consistent
with that course of gratification which men happen
to be set upon. And, if this be the case, it is much
the same as if we should suppose a man to have had
a general view of some scene, enough to satisfy him
that it was very disagreeable, and then to shut his
eyes, that he might not have a particular or distinct
view of its several deformities. It is as easy to close
the eyes of the mind, as those of the body : and the
former is more frequently done with wilfulness, and
yet not attended to, than the latter ; the actions of
the mind being more quick and transient than those
of the senses. This may be further illustrated by
another thing observable in ordinary life. It is not
uncommon for persons, who run out their fortunes,
entirely to neglect looking into the state of their
affairs, and this from a general knowledge, that the
condition of them is bad. These extravagant people
X.] UPON SELF-DECEIT. 129
are perpetually mined before they themselves ex-
pected it : and they tell you for an excuse, and tell
you truly, that they did not think they were so
much in debt, or that their expenses so far exceeded
their income. And yet no one will take this for an
excuse, who is sensible that their ignorance of their
particular circumstances was owing to their general
knowledge of them ; that is, their general knowledge,
that matters were not well with them, prevented
their looking into particulars. There is somewhat
of the like kind with this in respect to morals,
virtue, and religion. Men find that the survey of
themselves, their own heart and temper, their own
life and behaviour, doth not afford them satisfaction :
things are not as they should be: therefore they
turn away, will not go over particulars, or look
deeper, lest they should find more amiss. For who
would choose to be put out of humour with himself ?
No one, surely, if it were not in order to mend, and
to be more thoroughly and better pleased with
himself for the future.
If this sincere self-enjoyment and home-satisfaction
be thought desirable, and worth some pains and
diligence ; the following reflections will, I suppose,
deserve your attention ; as what may be of service
and assistance to all who are in any measure honestly
disposed, for avoiding that fatal self-deceit, and
towards getting acquainted with themselves.
The first is, that those who have never had any
suspicion of, who have never made allowances for,
this weakness in themselves, who have never (if I
may be allowed such a manner of speaking) caught
themselves in it, may almost take for granted that
they have been very much misled by it. For con-
sider : nothing is more manifest, than that affection
BUTLER, SEEMONS. K
130 UPON SELF-DECEIT. [SERM.
and passion of all kinds influence the judgment.
Now as we have naturally a greater regard to our-
selves than to others, as the private affection is more
prevalent than the public ; the former will have
proportionally a greater influence upon the judgment,
upon our way of considering things. People are
not backward in owning this partiality of judgment,
in cases of friendship and natural relation. The
reason is obvious, why it is not so readily acknow-
ledged, when the interest which misleads us is more
confined, confined to ourselves : but we all take
notice of it in each other in these cases. There is
not any observation more common, than that there is
no judging of a matter from hearing only one side.
This is not founded upon supposition, at least it is
not always, of a formed design in the relater to
deceive : for it holds in cases, where he expects that
the whole will be told over again by the other side.
But the supposition, which this observation is
founded upon, is the very thing now before us ;
namely, that men are exceedingly prone to deceive
themselves, and judge too favourably in every re-
spect, where themselves and their own interest are
concerned. Thus, though we have not the least
reason to suspect that such an interested person
hath any intention to deceive us, yet we of course
make great allowances for his having deceived him-
self. If this be general, almost universal, it is pro-
digious that every man can think himself an ex-
ception and that he is free from this self-partiality.
The direct contrary is the truth. Every man may
take for granted that he has a great deal of it, till,
from the strictest observation upon himself, he finds
particular reason to tliink otherwise.
Secondly, There is one easy and almost sure way
X.] UPON SELF-DECEIT. 131
to avoid being misled hj this self-partiality, and to
get acquainted with our real character : to have
regard to the suspicious part of it, and keep a steady
eye over ourselves in that respect. Suppose then a
man fully satisfied with himself, and his own be-
haviour ; such an one, if you please, as the Pharisee
in the Gospel, or a better man. — Well ; but allowing
this good opinion you have of yourself to be true,
yet every one is liable to be misrepresented. Sup-
pose then an enemy were to set about defaming you,
what part of your character would he single out 1
What particular scandal, think you, would he be
most likely to fix upon you '? And what would the
world be most ready to believe "? There is scarce
a man hving but could, from the most transient
superficial view of himself, answer this question.
What is that ill thing, that faulty behaviour, which
I am ajoprehensive an enemy, who was thoroughly
acquainted with me, would be most likely to lay to
my charge, and wliich the world would be most apt
to believe ? It is indeed possible that a man may
not be guilty in that respect. All that I say is, let
him in plainness and honesty fix upon that part of
his character for a particular survey and reflection ;
and by this he will come to be acquainted, whether
he be guilty or innocent in that respect, and how far
he is one or the other.
Thirdly, It would very much prevent our being
misled by this self-partiality, to reduce that practical
rule of our Saviour, Whatsoeve^^ ye ivoulcl that men
should do to you, even so do unto them, to our judg-
ment, and way of thinking. This rule, you see,
consists of two parts. One is, to substitute another
for yourself, when you take a survey of any part of
your behaviour, or consider what is proper and fit
K 2
132 UPON SELF-DECEIT. [SERM.
and reasonable for you to do npon any occasion : the
other part is, that you substitute yourself in the
room of another ; consider yourself as the person
affected by such a behaviour, or towards whom such
an action is done : and then you would not only
see, but likewise feel, the reasonableness or unreason-
ableness of such an action or behaviour. But, alas !
the rule itself may be dishonestly apphed : there are
persons who have not impartiality enough with
respect to themselves, nor regard enough for others,
to be able to make a just application of it. This
just apphcation, if men would honestly make it, is in
effect all that I have been recommending ; it is the
whole thing, the direct contrary to that inward
dishonesty as respecting our intercourse with our
fellow-creatures. And even the bearmg of this rule
in their thoughts may be of some service ; the
attempt thus to apply it, is an attempt towards
being fair and impartial, and may chance unawares to
shew them to themselves, to shew them the truth of
the case they are considering.
Upon the whole it is manifest, that there is such a
thing as this self-partiality and self-deceit : that in
some persons it is to a degree which would be
thought incredible, were not the instances before our
eyes ; of which the behaviour of David is perhaps
the highest possible one, in a single particular case ;
for there is not the least appearance, that it reached
his general character : that we are almost all of us
influenced by it in some degree, and in some respects :
that therefore every one ought to have an eye to
and beware of it. And all that I have further to
add upon this subject is, that either there is a
difference between right and wrong, or there is not :
reUgion is true, or it is not. If it be not, there is no
X.] UPON SELF-DECEIT. 133
reason for any concern about it : but if it be true, it
requires real fairness of mind and honesty of heart.
And, if people will be wicked, they had better of the
two be so from the common vicious passions without
such refinements, than from this deep and calm
source of delusion ; which undermines the whole
principle of good ; darkens that hght, that candle
of the Lord ivithin, which is to direct our steps ; and
corrupts conscience, wliich is the guide of life.
SERMON XL
UPON THE LOVE OF OUR NEIGHBOUR.
f REACHED ON ADVENT SUNDAY.
Romans xiii. 9.
And if there he any other commandment, it is hriejly compre-
hended in this saying, namely, Thou shall love thy neighbour
as thyself.
IT is commonly observed, tliat there is a dispo-
sition in men to complain of the viciousness and
corruption of the age in which they live, as greater
than that of former ones ; which is usually followed
with this further observation, that mankind has been
in that resjDcct much the same in all times. Now,
not to determine whether this last be not contra-
dicted by the accounts of history; thus much can
scarce be doubted, that vice and folly takes different
turns, and some particular kinds of it are more open
and avowed in some ages than in others : and, I sup-
pose, it may be spoken of as very much the distinction
of the present to profess a contracted spirit, and
greater regards to self-interest, than appears to
have been done formerly. Upon this account it
seems worth while to inquire, whether private in-
terest is likely to be promoted in proportion to the
UPON THE LOVE OF OUR NEIGHBOUR. 135
degree in which self-love engrosses us, and prevails
over all other principles ; or whether the contracted
affection may not 2^ossihhj he so prevalent as to
disappoint itself, and even contradict its oivn end,
private good.
And since, further, there is generally thought to
be some peculiar kind of contrariety between self-
love and the love of our neighbour, between the pur-
suit of public and of private good ; insomuch that
when you are recommending one of these, you are
supposed to be speaking against the other; and from
hence arises a secret prejudice against, and frequently
open scorn of all talk of public spirit, and real good-
will to our fellow-creatures ; it will be necessary to
inquire what respect benevolence hath to self-love,
and the pursuit of private interest to the pursuit of
public : or whether there be any thing of that pecu-
liar inconsistence and contrariety between them, over
and above what there is between self-love and other
passions and particular affections, and their respective
pursuits.
These inquiries, it is hoped, may be favourably
attended to : for there shall be all possible concessions
made to the favourite passion, which hath so much
allowed to it, and whose cause is so universally
pleaded : it shall be treated with the utmost tender-
ness and concern for its interests.
In order to this, as well as to determine the fore-
mentioned questions, it will be necessary to consider
the nature, the object, and end of that self-love, as
distinguished from other principles or affections in
the mind, and their respective objects.
Every man hath a general desire of his own hap-
piness ; and likewise a variety of particular affections,
passions, and appetites to particular external objects.
136 UPON THE LOVE OF [SERM.
The former proceeds from, or is self-love ; and seems
inseparable from all sensible creatures, who can reflect
upon themselves and their own interest or happiness,
so as to have that interest an object to their minds :
what is to be said of the latter is, that thev proceed
from, or together make up that particular nature, ac-
cording to which man is made. The object the former
pursues is somewhat internal, our own happiness, en-
joyment, satisfaction ; whether we have, or have not,
a distinct particular perception what it is, or wherein
it consists : the objects of the latter are this or that
particular external thing, which the affections tend
towards, and of which it hath always a particular
idea or perception. The principle we call self-love
never seeks any thing external for the sake of the
thing, but only as a means of happiness or good :
particular affections rest in the external things them-
selves. One belongs to man as a reasonable creature
reflecting upon his own interest or happiness. The
other, though quite distinct from reason, are as much
a part of human nature.
That all particular appetites and passions are to-
wards external things themselves, distinct from the
pleasure arising from them, is manifested from hence ;
that there could not be this pleasure, were it not for
that prior suitableness between the object and the
passion : there could be no enjoyment or delight from
one thing more than another, from eating food more
than from swallowing a stone, if there were not an
affection or appetite to one thing more than another.
Every particular affection, even the love of our
neighbour, is as really our own affection, as self-love ;
and the pleasure arising from its gratification is as
much my own pleasure, as the pleasure self-love would
have, from knowing I myself should be happy some
XI.] OUll NEIGHBOUR. 137
time hence, would be my own pleasure. And if, be-
cause every particular affection is a man's own, and
the pleasure arising from its gratification his own
pleasure, or pleasure to himself, such particular affec-
tion must be called self-love; according to this way
of speakmg, no creature whatever can possibly act
but merely from self-love ; and every action and every
affection whatever is to be resolved up into this one
jDrinciple. But then this is not the language of man-
kmd : or if it were, we should want words to express
the difierence, between the principle of an action, pro-
ceeding from cool consideration that it will be to my
own advantage ; and an action, suppose of revenge,
or of friendship, by which a man runs upon certain
ruin, to do evil or good to another. It is manifest
the principles of these actions are totally different, and
so want different words to be distinguished by : all
that they agree in is, that they both proceed from,
and are done to gratify an inclination in a man's self.
But the principle or inclination in one case is self-love ;
in the other, hatred or love of another. There is then
a distinction between the cool principle of self-love,
or general desire of our own happiness, as one part of
our nature, and one principle of action; and the par-
ticular affections towards particular external objects,
as another part of our nature, and another principle
of action. How much soever therefore is to be allowed
to self-love, vet it cannot be allowed to be the whole
of our inward constitution ; because, you see, there
are other parts or principles which come into it.
Further, private happiness or good is all which
self-love can make us desire, or be concerned about :
in having this consists its gratification : it is an affec-
tion to ourselves ; a regard to our own interest, hap-
piness, and private good: and in the proportion a
138 UPON THE LOVE OF [SERM.
man hath this, he is interested, or a lover of himself.
Let this be kept in mind ; because there is commonly,
as I shall presently have occasion to observe, another
sense put upon these words. On the other hand,
particular affections tend towards particular external
things : these are their objects : having these is theu'
end : in this consists their gratification : no matter
whether it be, or be not, upon the whole, om* interest
or happiness. An action done from the former of
these principles is called an interested action. An
action proceeding from any of the latter has its de-
nomination of passionate, ambitious, friendly, revenge-
ful, or any other, from the particular appetite or
affection from which it proceeds. Thus self-love as
one part of human nature, and the several particular
principles as the other part, are, themselves, their
objects and ends, stated and shewn.
From hence it will be easy to see, how far, and in
what wavs, each of these can contribute and be sub-
servient to the private good of the individual. Haj)-
piness does not consist in self-love. The desire of
happiness is no more the thing itself, than the desire
of riches is the possession or enjoyment of them.
People may love themselves with the most entire
and tmbounded affection, and yet be extremely
miserable. Neither can self-love any way help them
out, but by setting them on work to get rid of the
causes of their misery, to gain or make use of those
objects which are by natiu'e adapted to afford satisfac-
tion. Happiness or satisfaction consists only in the
enjoyment of those objects, which are by nature suited
to our several particular appetites, passions, and af-
fections. So that if self-love wholly engrosses us,
and leaves no room for any other principle, there
can be absolutely no such thing at all as happiness,
XI.] OUR NEIGHBOUR. 139
or enjoyment of any kind whatever; since happiness
consists in the gratification of particular passions,
which supposes the having of them. Self-love then
does not constitute this or that to be our interest
or good ; but, our interest or good being constituted
by nature and supposed, self-love only puts us upon
obtaining and securing it. Therefore, if it be pos-
sible, that self-love may prevail and exert itself in a
degree or manner which is not subservient to this
end ; then it will not follow, that our interest will be
promoted in proportion to the degree in which that
principle engrosses us, and prevails over others. Nay
further, the private and contracted affection, when it
is not subservient to this end, private good, may, for
any thing that appears, have a direct contrary ten-
dency and effect. And if we will consider the matter,
we shall see that it often really has. Dise?igagement
is absolutely necessary to enjoyment : and a person
may have so steady and fixed an eye upon liis own
interest, whatever he places it in, as may hinder him
from attending to many gratifications within his reach,
which others have their minds free and open to.
Over-fondness for a child is not generally thought to
be for its advantage : and, if there be any guess to be
made from appearances, surely that character we call
selfish is not the most promising for happiness. Such
a temper may plainly be, and exert itself in a degree
and manner which may give unnecessary and useless
solicitude and anxiety, in a degree and manner which
may prevent obtaining the means and materials of
enjoyment, as well as the making use of them. Im-
moderate self-love does very ill consult its own in-
terest : and, how much soever a paradox it may ap-
pear, it is certainly true, that even from self-love we
should endeavour to get over all inordinate regard
140 UPON THE LOVE OF [SEEM.
to, and consideration of ourselves. Every one of our
passions and affections hath its natural stint and
bound, which may easily be exceeded ; whereas our
enjoyments can possibly be but in a determinate
measure and degree. Therefore such excess of the
affection, since it cannot procure any enjoyment,
must in all cases be useless ; but is generally attended
with inconveniences, and often is downright pain and
misery. This holds as much with regard to self-love
as to all other affections. The natural degree of it,
so far as it sets us on work to gain and make use
of the materials of satisfaction, may be to our real
advantage ; but beyond or besides this, it is in several
respects an inconvenience and disadvantage. Thus
it appears, that private interest is so far from being
likely to be promoted in proportion to the degree
in which self-love engrosses us, and prevails over all
other principles ; that the contracted affection may he
so prevalent as to disappoint itself, and eve^i contradict
its own end, p)rivate good.
''But who, except the most sordidly covetous, ever
thought there was any rival ship between the love of
greatness, honour, power, or between sensual appe-
tites, and self-love ? No, there is a perfect harmony
between them. It is by means of these particular
appetites and affections that self-love is gratified in
enjoyment, happiness, and satisfaction. The compe-
tition and rival ship is between self-love and the love
of our neighbour : that affection which leads us out
of ourselves, makes us regardless of our own interest,
and substitute that of another in its stead." Whether
then there be any peculiar competition and contrariety
in this case, shall now be considered.
Self-love and interestedness was stated to consist
in or be an affection to ourselves, a regard to our
XI.] OUE NEIGHBOUR. 141
own private good : it is therefore distinct from be-
nevolence, which is an affection to the good of our
fellow-creatures. But that benevolence is distinct
from, that is, not the same thmg with self-love, is no
reason for its being looked upon with any peculiar
suspicion ; because every principle whatever, by
means of which self-love is gratified, is distinct from
it : and all things which are distinct from each other
are equally so. A man has an affection or aversion
to another : that one of these tends to, and is grati-
fied by doing good, that the other tends to, and is
gratified by doing harm, does not in the least alter
the respect which either one or the other of these
inward feelings has to self-love. We use the word
property so as to exclude any other persons having
an interest in that of which we say a j)articular man
has the property. And we often use the word selfish
so as to exclude in the same manner all regards to
the good of others. But the cases are not parallel :
for though that exclusion is really part of the idea of
property ; yet such positive exclusion, or bringing
this pecuhar disregard to the good of others into the
idea of self-love, is in reality adding to the idea, or
changing it from what it was before stated to consist
in, namely, in an affection to ourselves'*. This being the
whole idea of self-love, it can no otherwise exclude
good-will or love of others, than merely by not in-
cluding it, no otherwise, than it excludes love of arts
or reputation, or of any thing else. Neither on the
other hand does benevolence, anv more than love of
arts or of reputation, exclude self-love. Love of our
neighbour then has just the same respect to, is no
more distant from, self-love, than hatred of our neigh-
bour, or than love or hatred of any thing else. Thus
a p. 137.
142 UPON THE LOYE OF fSERM
L
the principles, from "which men rush upon certain
ruin for the destruction of an enemy, and for the
j)reservation of a friend, have the same respect to
the private affection, and are equally interested, or
equally disinterested : and it is of no avail, whether
they are said to be one or the other. Therefore to
those who are shocked to hear virtue spoken of as dis-
interested, it may be allowed that it is indeed absurd
to speak thus of it ; unless hatred, several particular
instances of vice, and all the common affections and
aversions in mankind, are acknowledged to be disin-
terested too. Is there any less inconsistence, between
the love of inanimate thiugs, or of creatures merely
sensitive, and self-love ; than between self-love and the
love of our neio-libour ? Is desire of and delight in
the happiness of another any more a diminution of
self-love, than desire of and delight in the esteem of
another 1 They are both equally desire of and de-
light in somewhat external to ourselves : either both
or neither are so. The object of self-love is expressed
in the term self: and every appetite of sense, and
every particular affection of the heart, are equally
interested or disinterested, because the objects of
them all are equally self or somewhat else. AVhatever
ridicule therefore the mention of a disinterested prin-
ciple or action may be supposed to lie open to, must,
upon the matter being thus stated, relate to ambition,
and every appetite and particular affection, as much
as to benevolence. And indeed all the ridicule, and
all the grave perplexity, of which this subject hath
had its full share, is merely from words. The most
intelhgible way of speaking of it seems to be this :
that self-love and the actions done in consequence of
it (for these will presently appear to be the same as
to this question) are interested ; that particular affec-
Xl.] OUR NEIGHBOUR. 143
tions towards external objects, and the actions done
in consequence of those affections, are not so. But
every one is at liberty to use words as he pleases.
All that is here insisted upon is, that ambition, re-
venge, benevolence, all particular passions whatever,
and the actions they produce, are equally interested
or disinterested.
Thus it appears that there is no peculiar contra-
riety between self-love and benevolence ; no greater
competition between these, than between any other
particular affections and self-love. This relates to
the affections themselves. Let us now see whether
there be any peculiar contrariety between the re-
spective courses of life which these affections lead to ;
whether there be any greater competition between
the pursuit of private and of public good, than
between any other particular pursuits and that of
private good.
There seems no other reason to suspect that there
is any such peculiar contrariety, but only that the
course of action which benevolence leads to, has a
more direct tendency to promote the good of others,
than that course of action which love of reputation
suppose, or any other particular affection leads to.
But that any affection tends to the happiness of
another, does not hinder its tending to one's own
happiness too. That others enjoy the benefit of the
air and the light of the sun, does not hinder but that
these are as much one's own private advantage now,
as they would be if we had the property of them ex-
clusive of all others. So a pursuit which tends to
promote the good of another, yet may have as great
tendency to promote private interest, as a pursuit
which does not tend to the good of another at all, or
which is mischievous to him. All particular affections
144 UPON THE LOVE OP [SERM.
whatever, resentment, benevolence, love of arts,
equally lead to a course of action for their own
gratification, i. e. the gratification of ourselves ; and
the gratification of each gives delight : so far then it
is manifest they have all the same respect to private
interest. Now take into consideration further, con-
cerning these three pursuits, that the end of the first is
the harm, of the second, the good of another, of the
last, somewhat indifferent ; and is there any neces-
sity, that these additional considerations shoidd alter
the respect, which we before saw these three pursuits
had to private interest ; or render any one of them
less conducive to it, than any other 1 Thus one man's
affection is to honour as his end ; in order to obtain
which he thinks no pains too great. Suppose
another, with such a singularity of mind, as to have
the same affection to public good as his end, which he
endeavours with the same labour to obtain. In case
of success, surely the man of benevolence hath as
great enjoyment as the man of ambition ; they both
equally having the end their affections, in the same
degree, tended to : but in case of disappointment, the
benevolent man has clearly the advantage ; since en-
deavouring to do good considered as a virtuous pur-
suit, is gratified by its own consciousness, i. e. is in a
degree its own reward.
And as to these two, or benevolence and any other
particular passions whatever, considered in a further
view, as forming a general temper, which more or
less disposes us for enjoyment of all the common
blessings of life, distinct from their own gratification :
is benevolence less the temper of tranquillity and
freedom than ambition or covetousness "? Does the
benevolent man appear less easy with himself, from
his love to his neighbour ? Does he less relish his
XI.] OUR NEIGHBOUR. 145
being ■? Is there any peculiar gloom seated on his
face ? Is his mind less open to entertainment, to any
particular gratification ? Nothing is more manifest,
than that being in good humour, which is benevolence
whilst it lasts, is itself the temper of satisfaction and
enjoyment.
Suppose then a man sitting down to consider how
he might become most easy to himself, and attain
the greatest pleasure he could ; all that which is his
real natural happiness. This can only consist in the
enjoyment of those objects, which are by nature
adapted to our several faculties. These particular
enjoyments make up the sum total of our happiness :
and they are supposed to arise from riches, honours,
and the gratification of sensual appetites : be it so :
yet none profess themselves so completely happy in
these enjoyments, but that there is room left in the
mind for others, if they were presented to them : nay,
these, as much as they engage us, are not thought so
high, but that human nature is capable even of greater.
Now there have been persons in all ages, who have
professed that they found satisfaction in the exercise
of charity, in the love of their neighbour, in endea-
vouring to promote the happiness of all they had to
do with, and in the pursuit of what is just and right
and good, as the general bent of their mind, and end
of their life ; and that doing an action of baseness or
cruelty, w^ould be as great violence to their self,
as much breaking in upon their nature, as any ex-
ternal force. Persons of this character would add,
if they might be heard, that they consider themselves
as acting in the view of an infinite Being, who is in a
much higher sense the object of reverence and of love,
than all the world besides ; and therefore they could
have no more enjoyment from a wicked action done
BL'TLEK, SERMOXS. L
146 UPON THE LOYE OF [SERM.
under his eye, than the persons to whom they are
making their apology could, if all mankind were the
spectators of it ; and that the satisfaction of appro vmg
themselves to his unerring judgment, to whom they
thus refer all their actions, is a more continued
settled satisfaction than any tliis world can afford ;
as also that they have, no less than others, a mind
free and open to all the common innocent gratifica-
tions of it, such as they are. And if we go no
further, does there appear any absurdity in this ?
Will any one take upon him to say, that a man
cannot find his account in this general course of life,
as much as in the most unbounded ambition, and the
excesses of pleasure ? Or that such a person has not
consulted so well for himself, for the satisfaction and
peace of his own mind, as the ambitious or dissolute
man ? And though the consideration, that Grod him-
self will in the end justify their taste, and support
their cause, is not formally to be insisted upon here ;
yet thus much comes in, that all enjoyments whatever
are much more clear and unmixed from the assurance
that they will end well. Is it certain then that there
is nothing in these pretensions to happiness ? espe-
cially when there are not wanting persons, who have
supported themselves with satisfactions of this kind
in sickness, poverty, disgrace, and in the very pangs
of death ; whereas it is manifest all other enjoyments
fail in these circumstances. This surely looks sus-
picious of having somewhat in it. Self-love methinks
should be alarmed. May she not possibly pass over
greater pleasures, than those she is so wholly taken
up with ?
The short of the matter is no more than this.
Happiness consists in the gratification of certain
affections, appetites, passions, with objects which are
XI.] OUR NEIGHBOUR. 147
by nature adapted to them. Self-love may indeed
set us on work to gratify these : but happiness or en-
joyment has no immediate connection with self-love,
but arises from such gratification alone. Love of our
neighbour is one of those affections. This, considered
as a virtuous principle, is gratified by a consciousness
of endeavouring to promote the good of others ; but
considered as a natural afiection, its gratification con-
sists in the actual accomplishment of this endeavour.
Now indulgence or gratification of this affection,
whether in that consciousness or this accomplishment,
has the same respect to interest, as indulgence of any
other affection ; they equally proceed from or do not
proceed from self-love, they equally include or equally
exclude this principle. Thus it appears, that hene-
volence and the pursuit of public good hath at least as
great resp>ect to self-love and the pursuit of private
good, as any other particidar passions, and their
respective pursuits.
Neither is covetousness, whether as a temper or
pursuit, any exception to this. For if by covetous-
ness is meant the desire and pursuit of riches for
their own sake, without any regard to, or considera-
tion of, the uses of them ; this hath as little to do with
self-love, as benevolence liath. But by this word is
usually meant, not such madness and total distraction
of mind, but immoderate afiection to and pursuit of
riches as possessions, in order to some further end ;
namely, satisfaction, interest, or good. This there-
fore is not a particular affection, or particular pur-
suit, but it is the general principle of self-love, and
the general pursuit of our own interest; for which
reason, the word selfish is by eveiy one appropriated
to this temper and pursuit. Now as it is ridiculous
to assert, that self-love and the love of our neigh-
L -2,
148 UPON THE LOVE OF [SERM.
bour are the same ; so neither is it asserted, that
followinof- these different affections hath the same
tendency and respect to our own interest. The com-
parison is not between self-love and the love of our
neighbour ; between pursuit of our own interest, and
the interest of others : but between the several par-
ticular affections in human nature towards external
objects, as one part of the comparison ; and the one
particular affection to the good of our neigliboiu*, as
the otlier part of it : and it has been shewn, that
all these have the same respect to self-love and
private interest.
There is indeed frequently an inconsistence or
interfering between self-love or private interest, and
the several particular appetites, passions, affections,
or the pursuits they lead to. But this competition
or interfering is merely accidental ; and happens
much oftener between pride, revenge, sensual grati-
fications, and private interest, than between private
interest and benevolence. For nothing is more com-
mon, than to see men give themselves up to a pas-
sion or an affection to their known prejudice and
ruin, and in direct contradiction to manifest and real
interest, and the loudest calls of self-love : whereas
the seeming competitions and interfering, Ijetween
benevolence and private interest, relate much more
to the materials or means of enjoyment, than to en-
joyment itself. There is often an interfering in the
former, when there is none in the latter. Thus as to
riches : so much money as a man gives away, so
much less will remain in his possession. Here is a
real interfering. But though a man cannot possibly
give without lessening his fortune, yet there are mul-
titudes might give without lessening their own en-
joyment ; because they may have more than they can
XI.] OUll NEIGHBOUK. 149
turn to any real use or advantage to themselves.
Thus, the more thouglit and time any one employs
about the interests and good of others, he must neces-
sarily have less to attend his own ; but he may have
so ready and large a supply of his own wants, tliat
such thought might be really useless to himself,
though of great service and assistance to others.
The general mistake, that there is some greater in-
consistence between endeavouring to promote the
good of another and self-interest, than between self-
interest and pursuing any thing else, seems, as hath
already been hinted, to arise from our notions of pro-
perty; and to be carried on by this property's being
supposed to be itself our happiness or good. People
are so very much taken up with this one subject, that
they seem from it to have formed a general way of
thinking, which they apply to other things that they
have nothing to do with. Hence, in a confused and
slight way, it might well be taken for granted, that
another's having no interest in an atfection (i. e. his
good not being the object of it), renders, as one may
speak, the proprietor's interest in it greater; and that
if another had an interest in it, this would render his
less, or occasion that such affection could not be so
friendly to self-love, or conducive to private good, as
an affection or pursuit which has not a regard to the
good of another. Tliis, I say, might be taken for
granted, whilst it was not attended to, that the object
of every particular affection is equally somewhat ex-
ternal to ourselves ; and whether it be the good of
another person, or whether it be any other external
thing, makes no alteration with regard to its being
one's own affection, and the gratification of it one's
own private enjoyment. And so far as it is taken for
granted, that barely having the means and materials
150 UPON THE LOVE OF [SERM.
of enjoyment is what constitutes interest and hap-
piness ; that our interest or good consists in posses-
sions themselves, in having the property of riches,
houses, lands, gardens, not in the enjoyment of them ;
so far it will even more strongly be taken for granted,
in the way already explained, that an affection's con-
ducing to the good of another, must even necessarily
occasion it to conduce less to private good, if not
to be positively detrimental to it. For, if property
and happiness are one and the same thing, as by
increasing the property of another you lessen your
own property, so by promoting the happiness of
another you must lessen your own happiness. But
whatever occasioned the mistake, I hope it has been
fully proved to be one ; as it has been proved, that
there is no peculiar rivalship or competition between
self-love and benevolence : that as there may be a
competition between these two, so there may also
between any particular affection whatever and self-
love ; that every particular affection, benevolence
among the rest, is subservient to self-love by being
the instrument of private enjoyment ; and that in
one respect benevolence contributes more to private
interest, i. e. enjoyment or satisfaction, than any
other of the particular common affections, as it is
in a degree its own gratification.
And to all these things may be added, that
religion, from whence arises our strongest obligation
to benevolence, is so far from disowning the principle
of self-love, that it often addresses itself to that very
principle, and always to the mind in that state when
reason presides; and there can no access be had to
the understanding, but by convincing men, that the
course of life we would persuade them to is not con-
trary to their interest. It may be allowed, without
XI.] OUR NEIGHBOUR. 151
any prejudice to the cause of virtue and religion,
that our ideas of happiness and misery are of all our
ideas the nearest and most important to us ; that
they will, nay, if you please, that they ought to pre-
vail over those of order, and beauty, and harmony,
and proportion, if there should ever be, as it is
impossible there ever should be, any inconsistence
between them : though these last too, as expressing
the fitness of actions, are real as truth itself Let it
be allowed, though virtue or moral rectitude does
indeed consist in affection to and pursuit of what is
right and good, as such ; yet, that when we sit down
in a cool hour, we can neither justify to ourselves
this or any other pursuit, till we are convinced that
it will be for our happiness, or at least not contrary
to it.
Common reason and humanity will have some
influence upon mankind, whatever becomes of specu-
lations : but, so far as the interests of virtue depend
upon the theory of it being secured from open scorn,
so far its very being in the world depends upon its
appearing to have no contrariety to private interest
and self-love. The foregoing observations, therefore,
it is hoped, may have gained a little ground in
favour of the precept before us ; the particular
explanation of which shall be the subject of the next
discourse.
I will conclude at present, with observing the
peculiar obligation which we are under to virtue
and religion, as enforced in the verses following the
textj in the epistle for the day, from our Saviour's
coming into the world. The night is far sj^eni, the
day is at hand; let us therefore cast o>ff' the worJcs of
darkness, and let us put on the armour of light, &c.
The meaning and force of which exhortation is, that
152 UPON THE LOVE OF OUR NEIGHBOUR.
Christianity lays us under new obligations to a good
life, as by it the will of God is more clearly revealed,
and as it affords additional motives to the practice of
it, over and above those which arise out of the
nature of virtue and vice ; I might add, as our
Saviour has set us a perfect example of goodness
in our own nature. Now love and charity is plainly the
thing in which he hath placed his religion ; in which
therefore, as we have any pretence to the name of
Christians, we must place ours. He hath at once
enjoined it upon us by way of command with
peculiar force ; and by his example, as having under-
taken the work of our salvation out of pure love and
good-will to mankind. The endeavour to set home
this example upon our minds is a very proper
employment of this season, which is bringing on the
festival of his birth : which as it may teach us many
excellent lessons of humihty, resignation, and obedi-
ence to the will of Grod ; so there is none it recom-
mends with greater authority, force, and advantage,
than this of love and charity; since it was ybr us men,
and for our salvation, that he came down from heaven,
and ivas incarnate, and ivas made man; that he might
teach us our duty, and more especially that he might
enforce the practice of it, reform mankind, and finally
brmg us to that eternal salvation, of which he is the
Author to all those that obey him.
SEllMON XII.
UPON THE LOVE OF OUR NEIGHBOUR.
Rom. xiii. 9.
And if there be any other commandment, it is Iriejlij compre-
hended in this saying, namely, Thoti shalt love thy neighbour
as thyself.
TTAYING already removed the prejudice.s against
public spirit, or the love of our neighbour, on
the side of private interest and self-love ; I pro-
ceed to the particular explanation of the precept
before us, by shewing, Who is our neighbour: In
ivhat sense we are required to love him as our-
selves : The influence such love ivoulcl have upon
our behaviour in life : and lastly, Hoiv this com-
manclment comprehends in it all others.
I. The objects and due extent of this affection
will be understood by attending to the nature of it,
and to the nature and circumstances of mankind in
this world. The love of our neighbour is the same
with charity, benevolence, or good-will : it is an
affection to the good and happiness of our fellow-
creatures. This implies in it a disposition to pro-
duce happiness : and this is the simple notion of
goodness, which appears so amiable wherever we
meet with it. From hence it is easy to see, that the
154 UPON THE LOVE OP [SERM.
perfection of goodness consists in love to the whole
universe. This is the perfection of Almighty God.
But as man is so much limited in his capacity, as
so small a part of the creation comes under his
notice and influence, and as we are not used to
consider things in so general a way; it is not to be
thought of, that the universe should be the object of
benevolence to such creatures as we are. Thus in that
precept of our Saviour, Be ye ]perfect, even as your
Father, which is in heaven, is perfect *, the perfection
of the divine goodness is proposed to our imitation
as it is promiscuous, and extends to the evil as well
as the good ; not as it is absolutely universal, imita-
tion of it in this respect being plainly beyond us.
The object is too vast. For this reason moral
Avriters also have substituted a less general object
for our benevolence, mankind. But this likewise is
an object too general, and very much out of our
view. Therefore persons more practical have, instead
of mankind, put our country ; and made the principle
of virtue, of human virtue, to consist in the entire
uniform love of our country: and this is what we
call a public spirit ; which in men of public stations
is the character of a patriot. But this is speaking
to the upper part of the world. Kingdoms and
governments are large ; and the sphere of action of
far the greatest part of mankind is much narrower
than the government they live under: or however,
common men do not consider their actions as
affecting the whole community of which they are
members. There plainly is wanting a less general
and nearer object of benevolence for the bulk of men,
than that of their country. Therefore the scripture,
not being a book of theory and speculation, but a
a Matt. V. 48.
XII.] OUR NEIGHBOUR. 155
plain rule of life for mankind, lias with the utmost
possible propriety put the principle of virtue upon
the love of our neighbour ; which is that part of the
universe, that part of mankind, that part of our
country, which comes under our immediate notice,
acquaintance, and influence, and with which we have
to do.
This is plainly the true account or reason, why
our Saviour places the principle of virtue in the love
of our neighhour ; and the account itself shews who
are comprehended under that relation.
IT, Let us now consider in what sense we are
commanded to love our neighbour as ou7'selves.
This precept, in. its first delivery by our Saviour,
is thus introduced : Thou shall love the Lord thy
God with all thine heart, with all thy soul, and
with all thy strength ; and thy neighhour as thyself.
These very different manners of expression do not
lead our thoughts to the same measure or degree
of love, common to both objects ; but to one, pecu-
liar to each. Supposing then, which is to be sup-
posed, a distinct meaning and propriety in the
w^ords, as thyself; the precept we are considering
will admit of any of these senses : that we bear the
same kind of affection to our neighbour as we do to
ourselves : or, that the love we bear to our neighbour
should have so77ie certain proportion or other to self-
love : or, lastly, that it should bear the particular
proportion of equality, that it he in the same degree.
First, The precept may be understood as requiting
only, that we have the same kind of affection to our
fellow-creatures as to ourselves : that, as every man
has the principle of self-love, which disposes him to
avoid misery, and consult his own happiness ; so we
should cultivate the affection of good-will to our
156 UPON THE LOVE OF [SEKM.
neighbour, and that it should influence us to have
the same kind of regard to him. This at least must
be commanded : and this will not only prevent our
being injurious to him, but will also put us upon
promoting his good. There are blessings in life,
which we share in common with others ; peace,
plenty, freedom, healthful seasons. But real benevo-
lence to our fellow-creatures would give us the
notion of a common interest in a stricter sense : for
in the degree we love another, his interest, his joys
and soiTows, are our own. It is from self-love that
we form the notion of private good, and consider it
as our own : love of our neighbour would teach us
thus to appropriate to ourselves his good and
welfare ; to consider ourselves as having a real share
in his happiness. Thus the principle of benevolence
would be an advocate within our own breasts, to
take care of the interests of our fellow-creatures in
all the interfering and competitions which cannot
but be, from the imperfection of our nature, and the
state we are in. It would likewise, in some measure,
lessen that interfering ; and hinder men from form-
ing so strong a notion of private good, exclusive of
the good of others, as we commonly do. Thus, as
the private affection makes us in a j^eculiar manner
sensible of humanity, justice or injustice, when
exercised towards ourselves ; love of our neighbour
would give us the same kind of sensibility in his
behalf This would be the greatest security of our
uniform obedience to that most equitable rule ;
Whatsoever ye tvould that men should do unto you,
do ye even so unto them.
All this is mdeed no more than that we should
have a real love to our neighbour : but then, which
is to be observed, the words, as thyself, express
XII.] OUK NEIGHBOUR. 157
this ill the most distinct manner, and determine the
precept to relate to the affection itself. The advan-
tage, which this principle of benevolence has over
other remote considerations, is, that it is itself the
temper of virtue ; and likewise, that it is the chief,
naj, the only eifectual security of our performing
the several offices of kindness we owe to our fellow-
creatures. When from distant considerations men
resolve upon any thing to which they have no liking^
or perhaps an averseness, they are perpetually find-
ing out evasions and excuses ; which need never be
wanting, if people look for them : and they equivo-
cate with themselves in the plainest cases in the
world. This may be in respect to single determinate
acts of virtue : but it comes in much more, where
the obligation is to a general course of behaviour;
and most of all, if it be such as cannot be reduced to
fixed determinate rules. This observation may ac-
count for the diversity of the expression, in that
known passage of the prophet Micah : to do justly,
and to love mercy. A man's heart must be formed
to humanity and benevolence, he must love inercy,
otherwise he will not act mercifully in any settled
course of behaviour. As consideration of the future
sanctions of religion is our only security of j)erse-
vering in our duty, in cases of great temptation : so
to get our heart and temper formed to a love and
liking of what is good, is absolutely necessary in
order to our behaving rightly in the familiar and
daily intercourses amongst mankind.
Secondly, The precept before us may be under-
stood to require, that we love our neighbour in some
certain jproportion or other, acco7xling as we love
ourselves. And indeed a man's character cannot be
determined by the love he bears to his neighbour,
158 UPON THE LOVE OF [SERM.
considered absolutely : but the proportion which this
bears to self-love, whether it be attended to or not,
is the chief thing which forms the character, and
influences the actions. For, as the form of the body
is a composition of various parts ; so likewise our
inward structure is not simple or uniform, but a
composition of various passions, appetites, affections,
together with rationality; including in this last both
the discernment of what is right, and a disposition to
regulate ourselves by it. There is greater variety of
parts in what we call a character, than there are
features in a face : and the morality of that is no
more determined by one part, than the beauty or
deformity of this is by one single feature : each is to
be judged of by all the parts or features, not taken
singly, but together. In the inward frame the
various passions, appetites, affections, stand in differ-
ent respects to each other. The principles in our
mind may be contradictory, or checks and allays
only, or incentives and assistants to each other.
And principles, which in their nature have no kind
of contrariety or affinity, may yet accidentally be
each other's allays or incentives.
From hence it comes to pass, that though we were
able to look into the mward contexture of the heart,
and see with the greatest exactness in what degree
any one principle is in a particular man; we could
not from thence determine, how far that prmciple
would go towards forming the character, or what
influence it would have upon the actions, unless we
could likewise discern what other principles prevailed
in him, and see the proportion which that one bears
to the others. Thus, though two men should have
the affection of compassion in the same degree
exactly; yet one may have the principle of resent-
Xll.] OUR NEIGHBOUR. 159
ment or of ambition so strong in him, as to prevail
over that of compassion, and prevent its having any
influence upon his actions; so that he may deserve the
character of an hard or cruel man : whereas the
other having compassion in just the same degree
only, yet having resentment or ambition in a lower
degree, his compassion may prevail over them, so as
to influence his actions, and to denominate his temper
compassionate. So that, how strange soever it may
appear to people who do not attend to the thing, yet
it is quite manifest, that, when we say one man is
more resenting or compassionate than another, this
does not necessarily imply that one has the principle
of resentment or of compassion stronger than the
other. For if the proportion, which resentment or
compassion bears to other inward principles, is
greater in one than in the other ; this is itself
sufficient to denominate one more resenting or com-
passionate than the other.
Further, the whole system, as I may speak, of
affections, (including rationality,) which constitute
the heart, as this word is used in scripture and on
moral subjects, are each and all of them stronger in
some than in others. Now the proportion which the
two general affections, benevolence and self-love, bear
to each other, according to this interpretation of the
text, denominates men's character as to virtue. Sup-
pose then one man to have the principle of benevo-
lence in an higher degree than another : it will not
follow from hence, that his general temper or
character or actions will be more benevolent than
the other's. For he may have self-love in such a
degree as quite to prevail over benevolence ; so that
it may have no influence at all upon his actions ;
whereas benevolence in the other person, though in a
160 UPON THE LOVE OP [SERM.
lower degree, may yet be the strongest principle in
his heart ; and strong enough to be the guide of his
actions, so as to denominate him a good and virtuous
man. The case is here as in scales : it is not one
weight, considered in itself, which determines whether
the scale shall ascend or descend; but this depends
upon the proportion which that one weight hath to
the other.
It being thus manifest that the influence which
benevolence has upon our actions, and how far it
goes towards forming our character, is not de-
termined by the degree itself of this principle in our
mind ; but by the proportion it has to self-love and
other principles : a comparison also being made in
the text between self-love and the love of our neigh-
bour ; these joint considerations afforded sufficient
occasion for treating here of that proportion : it
plainly is implied in the precept, though it should
be questioned, whether it be the exact meaning of
the words, as thyself.
Love of our neighbour then must bear some pro-
portion to self-love, and virtue to be sure consists in
the due proportion. What this due proportion is,
whether as a principle in the mind, or as exerted in
actions, can be judged of only from our nature and
condition in this world. Of the degree in which
affections and the principles of action, considered in
themselves, prevail, we have no measure : let us
then proceed to the course of behaviour, the actions
they produce.
Both our nature and condition require, that each
particular man should make particular provision for
himself: and the hiquiry, what proportion benevo-
lence should have to self-love, when brought down
to practice, will be, what is a competent care and
XII.] OUR KEIGHBOUK. 161
provision for ourselves. And how certain soever it
be, that each man must determine this for himself;
and how ridiculous soever it would be, for any to
attempt to determine it for another : yet it is to be
observed, that the proportion is real ; and that a
competent provision has a bound ; and that it cannot
be all which we can possibly get and keep within our
grasp, without legal injustice. Mankind almost
universally bring in vanity, supplies for what is
called a life of pleasure, covetousness, or imaginary
notions of superiority over others, to determine this
question : but every one who desires to act a proper
part in society, would do well to consider, how far
any of them come in to determine it, in the way of
moral consideration. All that can be said is, sup-
posing, what, as the world goes, is so much to be
supposed that it is scarce to be mentioned, that
persons do not neglect what they really owe to
themselves ; the more of their care and thouo-ht,
and of then' fortune, they employ in doing good to
their fellow-creatures, the nearer they come uj) to
the law of perfection, Tliou shalt love thy neiglibour as
thyself.
Thirdly, If the words, as thyself, were to be under-
stood of an equality of affection ; it would not be
attended with those consequences, which perhaps
may be thought to follow from it. Suppose a person to
have the same settled regard to others as to himself;
that in every deliberate scheme or pursuit he took
their interest into the account in the same degree as
his own, so far as an equality of affection would
produce this : yet he would in fact, and ought to be,
much more taken up and employed about himself,
and his own concerns, than about others, and their
interests. For, besides the one common affection
BUTLEE, SERMONS. M
162 UPON THE LOVE OP [SERM.
toward himself and his neighbour, he would have
several other particular affections, passions, appetites,
which he could not possibly feel in common both for
himself and others : now these sensations themselves
verj much employ us ; and have perhaps as great
influence as self-love. So far indeed as self-love,
and cool reflection upon what is for our interest,
would set us on work to gain a supply of our own
several wants ; so far the love of our neighbour
would make us do the same for liim : but the degree
in which we are put upon seeking and making use
of the means of gratification, by the feeling of those
affections, appetites, and passions, must necessarily
be peculiar to ourselves.
That there are particular passions, (suppose shame,
resentment,) which men seem to have, and feel in
common, both for themselves and others, makes no
alteration in respect to those passions and appetites
which cannot possibly be thus felt in common.
From hence (and perhaps more things of the like
kind might be mentioned) it follows, that though
there were an equality of affection to both, yet
regards to ourselves would be more prevalent than
attention to the concerns of others.
And from moral considerations it ought to be so,
supposing still the equality of affection commanded :
because we are in a peculiar manner, as I may speak,
intrusted with ourselves ; and therefore care of our
own interests, as well as of our conduct, particularly
belongs to us.
To these things must be added, that moral obliga-
tions can extend no further than to natural possi-
bilities. Now we have a perception of our own
interests, like consciousness of our own existence,
which we always carry about with us ; and which.
XII.] OUR NEIGHBOUR. 163
in its continuation, kind, and degree, seems im-
possible to be felt in respect to the interests of
others.
From all these things it fully appears, that though
we were to love our neighbour in the same degree
as we love ourselves, so far as this is possible ; yet
the care of ourselves, of the individual, would not be
neglected ; the apprehended danger of which seems
to be the only objection against understanding the
precept in this strict sense.
III. The general temper of mind which the due
love of our neighbour would form us to, and the
influence it would have upon our behaviour in life,
is now to be considered.
The temper and behaviour of charity is explained
at large, in that known passage of St. Paul ^' :
Charity suffereth long, and is hind ; charity en-
vieth not, doth not behave itself unseemly, seeketh
not her own, thinheth no evil, heareth all things,
helieveth all things, hopeth all things. As to the
meaning of the expressions, seeheth not her oivn,
thinJceth no evil, helieveth all things ; however those
expressions may be explained away, this meekness,
and in some degree easiness of temper, readiness
to forego our right for the sake of peace, as well
as in the way of compassion, freedom from mistrust,
and disposition to believe well of our neighbour,
this general temper, I say, accompanies, and is
plainly the effect of love and good-will. And,
though such is the world in which we live, that
experience and knowledge of it not only may, but
must beget in us greater regard to ourselves, and
doubtfulness of the characters of others, than is
^ I Cor. xiii.
M 2
164 UPON THE LOVE OF [SEKM.
natural to Diankind ; yet these ouglit not to be
carried further than the nature and course of
thmgs make necessary. It is still true, even in
the present state of things, bad as it is, that a
real good man had rather be deceived, than be
suspicious ; had rather forego his known right, than
run the venture of doing even a hard thing. This
is the general temj^er of that charity, of which the
apostle asserts, that if he had it not, giving his
hody to he hurned would avail him nothing ; and
which he says shall never fail.
The happy influence of this temper extends to
every diiferent relation and circumstance in human
life. It plainly renders a man better, more to be
desired, as to all the respects and relations w^e can
stand in to each other. The benevolent man is dis-
posed to make use of all external advantages in such
a manner as shall contribute to the good of others,
as well as to his own satisfaction. His own satis-
faction consists in this. He will be easy and kind to
his dependents, compassionate to the poor and dis-
tressed, friendly to all with whom he has to do.
This includes the good neighbour, parent, master,
magistrate : and such a behaviour would plainly
make dependence, inferiority, and even servitude,
easy. So that a good or charitable man of superior
rank in wisdom, fortune, authority, is a common
blessing to the place he hves in : happiness grows
under his influence. This good jjrinciple in inferiors
would discover itself in paymg respect, gratitude,
obedience, as due. It were therefore methinks one
just way of trying one's own character, to ask our-
selves, am I in reality a better master or servant,
a better friend, a better neighbour, than such and
such persons ; whom, perhaps, I may think not to
XII.] OUR NEIGHBOUR. 1G5
deserve the character of virtue and religion so much
as mvself 1
ft/
And as to the spirit of party, which unhappily
prevails amongst mankind, whatever are the dis-
tinctions which serve for a supply to it, some or
other of which have obtained in all asfes and
countries : one who is thus friendly to his kind will
immediately make due allowances for it, as what
cannot but be amongst such creatures as men, in
such a world as this. And as wrath and fury and
overbearing upon these occasions proceed, as I may
speak, from men's feeling only on their own side : so
a common feeling, for others as well as for ourselves,
woidd render us sensible to this truth, which it is
strange can have so little influence ; that we our-
selves differ from others, just as much as they do
from us. I put the matter in this way, because it
can scarce be expected that the generality of men
should see, that those things which are made the
occasions of dissension and fomenting the party-spirit,
are really nothing at all : but it may be expected
from all people, how much soever they are in earnest
about their respective peculiarities, that humanity,
and common good-will to their fellow -creatures
should moderate and restrain that wretched spirit.
This good temper of charity like ,\ ise would pre-
vent strife and enmity arising from other occasions :
it would prevent our giving just cause of offence,
and our takino- it without cause. And in cases of
real injury, a good man will ma e all the allowances
which are to be made ; and, without any attempts of
retaliation, he will only consult his own and other
men's security for the future, against injustice and
wronof.
IV. I proceed to consider, lastly, what is affirmed
166 UPON THE LOVE OF [SEEM.
of the precept now explained, that it comprehends in
it all others ; i. e. that to love our neighbour as
ourselves includes in it all virtues.
Now the way in which every maxim of conduct,
or general speculative assertion, when it is to be
explained at large, should be treated, is, to shew
what are the particular truths which were designed to
be comprehended under such a general observation,
how far it is strictly true ; and then the limitations,
restrictions, and exceptions, if there be exceptions,
with which it is to be understood. But it is only
the former of these : namelv, how far the assertion
in the text holds, and the ground of the preeminence
assigned to the precept of it, which in strictness
comes into our present consideration.
However, in almost every thing that is said, there
is somewhat to be understood beyond what is
exphcitly laid down, and which we of course supply ;
somewhat, I mean, which would not be commonly
called a restriction, or limitation. Thus, when be-
nevolence is said to be the sum of virtue, it is" not
spoken of as a blind propension, but as a principle in
reasonable creatures, and so to be directed by their
reason : for reason and reflection comes into our
notion of a moral agent. And that will lead us to
consider distant consequences, as well as the im-
mediate tendency of an action : it will teach us, that
the care of some persons, suppose children and
families, is particularly committed to our charge by
Nature and Providence ; as also that there are other
circumstances, suppose friendship or former obliga-
tions, which require that we do good to some, prefer-
ably to others. Reason, considered merely as sub-
servient to benevolence, as assisting to produce the
greatest good, will teach us to have particular regard
XII.] OUR NEIGHBOUR. 167
to these relations and circumstances ; because it is
plainly for the good of the world that they should
be regarded. And as there are numberless cases, in
which, notwithstanding appearances, we are not
competent judges, whether a particular action will
upon the whole do good or harm ; reason in the
same way will teach us to be cautious how we act
in these cases of uncertainty. It will suggest to our
consideration, which is the safer side ; how liable we
are to be led wrong by passion and private interest ;
and what regard is due to laws, and the judgment of
mankind. All these things must come into con-
sideration, were it only in order to determine which
way of acting is likely to produce the greatest good.
Thus, upon supposition that it were in the strictest
sense true, without Hmitation, that benevolence
includes in it all virtues ; yet reason must come in
as its guide and director, in order to attain its own
end, the end of benevolence, the greatest public
good. Eeason then being thus included, let us now
consider the truth of the assertion itself.
First, It is manifest that nothing can be of conse-
quence to mankind or any creature, but happiness.
This then is all which any person can, in strictness
of speaking, be said to have a right to. We can
therefore oive no man any thing, but only to further
and promote his happiness, according to our abilities.
And therefore a disposition and endeavour to do good
to all with whom we have to do, in the degi^ee and
manner which the different relations we stand in to
them requii^e, is a discharge of all the obligations we
are under to them.
As human nature is not one simple uniform thing,
but a composition of various parts, body, spirit, appe-
tites, particular passions, and affections ; for each of
168 UPON THE LOVE OF [SERM.
which reasonable self-love would lead men to have due
regard, and make suitable provision : so society con-
sists of various parts, to which we stand in different
respects and relations ; and just benevolence would
as surely lead us to have due regard to each of these,
and behave as the respective relations require. Bea-
sonable good-will, and right behaviour towards our
fellow-creatures, are in a manner the same : only that
the former exjDresseth the principle as it is in the
mind ; the latter, the principle as it were become
external, i.e. exerted in actions.
And so far as temperance, sobriety, and moderation
in sensual pleasures, and the contrary vices, have any
respect to our fellow -creatures, any influence upon
their quiet, welfare, and happiness ; as they always
have a real, and often a near influence upon it ; so far
it is manifest those virtues may be produced by the
love of our neighbour, and that the contrary vices
would be prevented by it. Indeed if men's regard to
themselves will not restrain them from excess ; it
may be thought little probable, that their love to
others will be sufficient : but the reason is, that their
love to others is not, any more than their regard to
themselves, just, and in its due degree. There are
however manifest instances of persons kept sober and
temperate from regard to their affairs, and the welfare
of those who depend upon them. And it is obvious
to every one, that habitual excess, a dissolute course
of life, implies a general neglect of the duties we owe
towards our friends, our families, and our country.
From hence it is manifest that the common virtues,
and the common vices of mankind, may be traced up
to benevolence, or the want of it. And this entitles
the precept, Thou shalt love thy neighhour as thyself,
to the preeminence given to it ; and is a justification
xir.] OUR NEioiinoui?. 169
of the apostle's assertion, that all other command-
ments are comprehended in it ; whatever cautions and
restrictions^ there are, which might require to be
considered, if we were to state particularly and at
length, what is virtue and right behaviour in man-
kind. But,
Secondly, It might be added, that in a higher and
c For instance : as we are not competent judges, what is upon the
whole for the good of the workl, there may he other immediate ends
appointed us to pursue, besides that one of doing good, or producing
happiness. Though the good of the creation be the only end of the
Author of it, yet he may have laid us under particular obligations,
which we may discern and feel ourselves under, quite distinct from
a perception, that the observance or violation of them is for the hap-
piness or misery of our fellow-creatures. And this is in fact the case.
For there are certain dispositions of mind, and certain actions, which
are in themselves approved or disapproved by mankind, abstracted
from the consideration of their tendency to the happiness or misery
of the world ; approved or disapproved by reflection, by that princi-
ple within, which is the guide of life, the judge of right and wrong.
Numberless instances of this kind might be mentioned. There are
pieces of treachery, which in themselves appear base and detestable
to every one. There are actions, which perhaps can scarce have any
other general name given them than indecencies, which yet are odi-
ous and shocking to human nature. There is such a thing as mean-
ness, a little mind ; which, as it is quite distinct from incapacity, so
it raises a dislike and disapprobation quite different from that con-
tempt, which men are too apt to have, of mere folly. On the other
hand ; what we call greatness of mind is the object of another sort
of approbation, than superior understanding. Fidelity, honour, strict
justice, are themselves apj)i'oved in the highest degree, abstracted
from the consideration of their tendency. Now, whether it be thought
that each of these are connected with benevolence in our nature, and
so may be considered as the same thing with it ; or whether some
of them be thought an inferior kind of virtues and vices, somewhat
like natural beauties and deformities ; or lastly, plain exceptions to
the general rule ; thus much however is certain, that the things now
instanced in, and numberless others, are approved or disapproved by
mankind in general, in quite another view than as conducive to the
happiness or misery of the world.
170 UPON THE LOVE OF [SERM.
more general way of consideration, leaving out the
particular nature of creatures, and the particular
circumstances in which they are placed, benevolence
seems in the strictest sense to include in it al] that is
good and worthy ; all that is good, which we have any
distinct particular notion of. We have no clear con-
ception of any positive moral attribute in the supreme
Being, but what may be resolved up into goodness.
And, if we consider a reasonable creature or moral
agent, without regard to the particular relations and
circumstances in which he is placed : we cannot con-
ceive any thing else to come in towards determining
whether he is to be ranked in an higher or lower
class of virtuous beings, but the higher or lower
degree in which that principle, and what is manifestly
connected with it, prevail in him.
That which we more strictly call piety, or the love
of God, and which is an essential part of a right tem-
per, some may perhaps imagine no way connected
with benevolence : yet surely they must be connected,
if there be indeed in being an object infinitely good.
Human nature is so constituted, that every good af-
fection implies the love of itself; i. e. becomes the
object of a new affection in the same person. Thus,
to be righteous, implies in it the love of righteous-
ness ; to be benevolent, the love of benevolence ; to
be good, the love of goodness ; whether this righteous-
ness, benevolence, or goodness, be viewed as in our
own mind, or in another's : and the love of God as a
being perfectly good, is the love of perfect goodness
contemplated in a being or person. Thus morality
and religion, virtue and jjiety, will at last necessarily
coincide, run up into one and the same point, and
love will be in all senses ilie end of the co^nmand-
ment.
XII.] OUR NEIGHBOUK. 171
O Almighty God, inspire us loitli this divine j^^in-
ciple ; kill i7i us all the seeds of envy and ill-
will ; and help us, hy cultivating ivithin ourselves
the love of our neighbour, to irtiprove in the love
of thee. Thou hast j^lnced us in various kin-
dreds, friendships, a7id relations, as the school of
discipline for our affections : help us, hy the due
exercise of them, to improve to perfection ; till all
partial affection he lost in that entire universal
one, and thou, God, shalt be all in all.
SERMON XIII, XIV.
UPON THE LOVE OF GOD.
Matthew xxii. 37.
Thou shalt love the Lord thy God zvith all thy heart, and ic'ith
all thy soul, and toith all thy mind,
EYERYBODY knows, you therefore need only-
just be put in mind, that there is such a
thing, as having so great horror of one extreme, as
to run insensibly and of course into the contrary;
and that a doctrine's havino- been a shelter for en-
thusiasm, or made to serve the purposes of supersti-
tion, is no proof of the falsity of it : truth or light
being somewhat real in itself, and so not to be judged
of by its liableness to abuse, or by its supposed
distance from or nearness to error. It may be suf-
ficient to have mentioned this in general, without
taking notice of the particular extravagancies, which
have been vented under the pretence or endeavour of
explaining the love of God ; or how manifestly we
are got into the contrary extreme, under tlie notion
of a reasonable religion ; so very reasonable, as to
have nothing to do with the heart and affections,
if these words signify any thing but the faculty by
which we discern speculative truth.
By the love of God, I would understand all those
UPON THE LOVE OF GOD. 173
regards, all those affections of mind which are due
immediately to him from such a creature as man,
and which rest in him as their end. As this does not
include servile fear : so neither will any other regards,
how reasonable soever, wdiich respect any thing out
of or besides the perfection of the divine nature,
come into consideration here. But all fear is not
excluded, because his displeasure is itself the natural
proper object of fear. Eeverence, ambition of his
love and approbation, delight in the hope or con-
sciousness of it, come likewise into this definition of
the love of God ; because he is the natural object
of all those affections or movements of mind, as
really as he is the object of the affection, which is
in the strictest sense called love ; and all of them
equally rest in him, as their end. And they may all
be understood to be implied in these words of our
Saviour, without putting any force upon them : for
he is speaking of the love of God and our neighbour,
as containing the whole of piety and virtue.
It is plain that the nature of man is so constituted,
as to feel certain affections upon the sight or contem-
plation of certain objects. Now the very notion of
affection implies resting in its object as an end. And
the particular affection to good characters, reverence
and moral love of them, is natiu*al to all tliose who
have any degree of real goodness in themselves.
This will be illustrated by the description of a perfect
character in a creature ; and by considering the man-
ner, in which a good man in his presence would be
affected towards such a character. He would of
course feel the affections of love, reverence, desire of
his approbation, delight in the hope or consciousness
of it. And surely all this is applicable, and may be
brought up to that Being, who is infinitely more
174 UPON THE LOVE OF GOD. [SERM.
than an adequate object of all those affections ; whom
we are commanded to love with all our heart, tvith
all our soul, and ivith all our 7nincl. And of these
regards towards Almighty God, some are more par-
ticularly suitable to and becoming so imperfect a
creature as man, in this mortal state we are passing
through ; and some of them, and perhaps other exer-
cises of the mind, will be the employment and hap-
piness of good men in a state of perfection.
This is a general view of what the following dis-
course will contain. And it is manifest the subject is
a real one : there is nothing in it enthusiastical or
unreasonable. And if it be indeed at all a subject, it
is one of the utmost importance.
As mankind have a faculty by which they discern
speculative truth ; so we have various affections to-
wards external objects. Understanding and temper,
reason and affection, are as distmct ideas, as reason
and hunger : and one would think could no more be
confounded. It is by reason that we get the ideas of
several objects of our affections : but in these cases
reason and affection are no more the same, than sight
of a particular object, and the pleasure or uneasiness
consequent thereupon, are the same. Now, as reason
tends to and rests in the discernment of truth, the
object of it ; so the very nature of affection consists in
tending towards, and resting in, its objects as an end.
We do indeed often in common language say, that
things are loved, desired, esteemed, not for them-
selves, but for somewhat further, somewhat out of
and beyond them : yet, in these cases, whoever will
attend, will see, that these things are not in reality
the objects of the affections, i. e. are not loved, de-
sired, esteemed, but the somewhat further and beyond
them. If we have no affections which rest in what
XIII.] UPON THE LOVE OP GOD. 175
are called their objects, then what is called affection,
love, desire, hope, in human nature, is only an un-
easiness in being at rest ; an unquiet disposition
to action, progress, pursuit, without end or mean-
ing. But if there be any such thing as delight in
the company of one person, rather than of another ;
whether in the way of friendship, or mirth and en-
tertainment, it is all one, if it be without respect
to fortune, honour, or increasing our stores of know-
ledge, or any thing beyond the present time ; here
is an instance of an affection absolutely resting in its
object as its end, and being gratified in the same way
as the appetite of hunger is satisfied with food. Yet
nothing is more common than to hear it asked, what
advantage a Qian hath in such a course, suppose of
study, particular friendships, or in any other; nothing,
I say, is more common than to hear such a question
put in a way which supposes no gain, advantage,
or interest, but as a means to somewhat further :
and if so, then there is no such thing at all as real
interest, gain, or advantage. This is the same ab-
surdity with respect to life, as an infinite series of
effects without a cause is in speculation. The gain,
advantage, or interest, consists in the delight itself,
arising from such a faculty's having its object :
neither is there any such thing as happiness or en-
joyment, but what arises from hence. The pleasures
of hope and of reflection are not exceptions :
the former being only this happiness anticipated ;
the latter, the same happiness enjoyed over again
after its time. And even the general expectation of
future happiness can afford satisfaction, only as it is a
present object to the principle of self-love.
It was doubtless intended, that life should be very
much a pursuit to the gross of mankind. But this is
176 UPON THE LOVE OF G01>. [SERM.
carried so much further than is reasonable, that what
gives immediate satisfaction, i.e. our present interest,
is scarce considered as our interest at all. It is in-
ventions which have only a remote tendency towards
enjoyment, perhaps but a remote tendency towards
gaining the means only of enjoyment, which are
chiefly spoken of as useful to the world. And though
this way of thinking were just with respect to the
imperfect state we are now in, where we know so
little of satisfaction without satiety ; yet it must be
guarded against, when we are considering the happi-
ness of a state of perfection ; which happiness being
enjoyment and not hope, must necessarily consist in
this, that our affections have their objects, and rest
in those objects as an end, i. e. be satisfied with
them. This will further appear in the sequel of
this discourse.
Of tlie several affections, or inward sensations,
which particular objects excite in man, there are
some, the having of which implies the love of them,
when they are reflected upon ^. This cannot be said
of all our affections, principles, and motives of action.
It were ridiculous to assert, that a man upon reflec-
tion hath the same kind of approbation of the appetite
of hunger, or the passion of fear, as he hath of good-
will to his fellow-creatures. To be a just, a good,
a righteous man, plauily carries with it a peculiar
affection to or love of justice, goodness, righteousness,
when these principles are the objects of contemplation.
^ St. Austin observes, Amor ipse ordinate umandus est, quo bene
amatur quod amandum est, ut sit in nobis virtus qua vivitur bene.
i. e. The affection which we rightly leave for what is lovely, must ordi-
nate justly, in due manner and jiro^yortion, become the object of a new
affection, or be itself beloved, in order to our being endued with that
virtice which is tlie jprincij^le of a good life. Civ. Dei, 1. xv. c. 22.
Xlll.] UPON THE LOVE OP GOD. 177
Now if a man approves of, or hath an affection to,
any principle in and for itself, incidental things
allowed for, it will be the same whether he views
it in his own mind, or in another ; in himself, or in his
neighbour. This is the account of our approbation
of, our moral love and affection to good characters ;
which cannot but be in those who have any degrees
of real goodness in themselves, and who discern and
take notice of the same principle in others.
From observation of what passes within ourselves,
our own actions, and the behaviour of others, the
mind may carry on its rellections as far as it pleases ;
much beyond what we experience in ourselves, or
discern m our fellow-creatures. It may go on, and
consider goodness as become an uniform continued
principle of action, as conducted by reason, and form-
ing a temper and character absolutely good and
perfect, which is in a higher sense excellent, and
proportionably the object of love and approbation.
Let us then suppose a creature perfect according to
his created nature : let his form be human, and his
capacities no more than equal to those of the chief of
men : goodness shall be his proper character ; with
wisdom to direct it, and power within some certain
determined sphere of action to exert it : but goodness
must be the simple actuating principle within him ;
this being the moral quality which is amiable, or
the immediate object of love as distinct from other
affections of approbation. Here then is a finite ob-
ject for our mind to tend towards, to exercise itself
upon : a creature, perfect according to his capacity,
fixed, steady, equally unmoved by weak pity or more
weak fury and resentment ; forming the justest
scheme of conduct ; going on undisturbed in the
execution of it, through the several methods of
BUTLER, SERMONS. N
178 UPON THE LOVE OF GOD. [SERM.
severity and reward, towards his end, namely, the
general happiness of all with whom he hath to do, as
in itself right and valuable. This character, though
uniform in itself, in its principle, yet exerting itself
in different ways, or considered in different views,
may by its appearing variety move different affections.
Thus, the severity of justice would not affect us in
the same way as an act of mercy : the adventitious
qualities of wisdom and power may be considered m
themselves : and even the strength of mind, which
this immovable goodness supposes, may likewise be
viewed as an object of contemplation, distinct from the
goodness itself. Superior excellence of any kind, as
well as superior wisdom and power, is the object of
awe and reverence to all creatures, whatever their
moral character be : but so far as creatures of
the lowest rank were good, so far the view of this
character, as simply good, must appear amiable to
them, be the object of, or beget love. Further, sup-
pose we were conscious, that this superior person
so far approved of us, that we had nothing servilely
to fear from him; that he was really our friend,
and kind and good to us in particular, as he had
occasionally intercourse with us : we must be other
creatures than we are, or we could not but feel the
same kind of satisfaction and enjoyment (whatever
would be the degree of it) from this higher acquaint-
ance and friendship, as we feel from common ones ;
the intercourse being real, and the persons equally
present, in both cases. We should have a more ardent
desire to be approved by his better judgment, and a
satisfaction in that approbation of the same sort with
what would be felt in respect to common persons,
or be wrought in us by their presence.
Let us now raise the character, and suppose this
XIII.] UPON THE LOVE OF GOD. 179
creature, for we are still going on with the suppo-
sition of a creature, our proper guardian and governor ;
that we were in a progress of being towards somewhat
further; and that his scheme of government was too
vast for our capacities to comprehend : remembering
still that he is perfectly good, and our friend as well
as our governor. Wisdom, power, goodness, acci-
dentally viewed anywhere, would inspire reverence,
awe^ love : and as these affections would be raised,
in higher or lower degTees, in proportion as we had
occasionally more or less intercourse with the creature
endued with those qualities; so this further con-
sideration and knowledge, that he was our proper
guardian and governor, would much more bring these
objects and qualities home to ourselves ; teach us
they had a greater respect to us in particular, that
we had an higher interest in that wisdom and power
and goodness. We should, with joy, gratitude, re-
verence, love, trust, and dependence, appropriate the
character, as what we had a right in ; and make our
boast in such our relation to it. And the conclusion
of the whole would be, that we should refer ourselves
implicitly to him, and cast ourselves entirely upon
him. As the whole attention of life should be to
obey his commands ; so the highest enjoyment of it
must arise from the contemplation of this character,
and our relation to it, from a consciousness of his
favour and approbation, and from the exercise of
those affections towards him which could not but
be raised from his presence. A Being who hath these
attributes, who stands in this relation, and is thus
sensibly present to the mind, must necessarily be the
object of these affections : there is as real a corre-
spondence between them, as between the lowest
appetite of sense and its object.
N 2
180 UPON THE LOVE OF GOD. [SERM.
That this Being is not a creature, but the Almighty
God ; that he is of infinite power and wisdom and
goodness, does not render him less the object of re-
verence and love, than he would be if he had those
attributes only in a limited degree. The Being who
made us, and upon whom we entirely depend, is the
object of some regards. He hath given us certain
affections of mind, which corresjDond to wisdom,
power, goodness ; i. e. which are raised upon view
of those qualities. If then he be really wise, power-
ful, good ; he is the natural object of those affec-
tions, which he hath endued us with, and which
correspond to those attributes. That he is infinite
in power, perfect in wisdom and goodness, makes
no alteration, but only that he is the object of those
affections raised to the highest 2:>itch. He is not indeed
to be discerned by any of our senses. / go forward^
hut he is not there ; and hachward, hut I cannot per-
ceive him : on the left hand ivhere he doth work, hut I
cannot hehold him: he hideth himself on the right hand,
that I cannot see him. that I hiew where I might
find him! that I might come eve?i to his seat^ ! But is
he then afar off? does he not fill heaven and earth
with his presence 1 The presence of our fellow-
creatures affects our senses, and our senses give us
the knowledge of their presence ; which hath different
kinds of influence upon us ; love, joy, sorrow, re-
straint, encouragement, reverence. However this in-
fluence is not immediately from our senses, but from
that knowledge. Thus suppose a person neither to
see nor hear another, not to know by any of his
senses, but yet certainly to know, that another was
with him ; this knowledge might, and in many cases
would, have one or more of the effects before men-
tioned. It is therefore not only reasonable, but also
^ Job xxii.
Xlll.] UPON THE LOVE OF GOD. 181
natural, to be affected with a presence, though it
be not the object of our senses : whether it be, or
be not, is merely an accidental circumstance, which
needs not come into consideration : it is the certainty
that he is with us, and we with him, which hath the
influence. We consider persons then as present, not
only when they are within reach of our senses, but
also when we are assured by any other means that
they are within such a nearness ; nay, if they are not,
we can recall them to our mind, and be moved to-
wards them as present : and must He, who is so much
more ultimately with us, that in him lue live and
move and have our being, be thought too distant to be
the object of our affections ? We own and feel the
force of amiable and worthy qualities in oiu- fellow-
croatures : and can w^e be insensible to the contem-
plation of perfect goodness ? Do we reverence the
shadows of greatness here below, are we solicitous
about honour and esteem and the opinion of the
world : and shall we not feel the same with respect
to him, whose are wisdom and power in their ori-
ginal, who is the God of judgment hy whom actions
are -weighed f Thus love, reverence, desire of esteem,
every faculty, every affection, tends towards, and
is employed about its respective object in common
cases : and must the exercise of them be suspended
with regard to him alone, who is an object, an in-
finitely more than adequate object, to our most ex-
alted faculties ; him, of tuhom, and through ivhom,
and to ivhom are all things f
As we cannot remove from this earth, or change
oiu- general business on it, so neither can we alter our
real nature. Therefore no exercise of the mind can
be recommended, but only the exercise of those
faculties you are conscious of. Eeligion does not
182 UPON THE LOVE OF GOD. [SERM.
demand new affections, but only claims the direction
of those you already have, those affections you daily
feel; though unhappily confined to objects, not alto-
gether unsuitable, but altogether unequal to them.
We only represent to you the higher, the adequate
objects of those very faculties and affections. Let the
man of ambition go on still to consider disgrace as
the greatest evil ; honour, as his chief good. But
disgrace, in whose estimation ? Honour, in whose
judgment 'I This is the only question. If shame,
and delight in esteem, be spoken of as real, as any
settled ground of pain or pleasure ; both these
must be in proportion to the supposed wisdom and
worth of him, by whom we are contemned or es-
teemed. Must it then be thought enthusiastical to
speak of a sensibihty of this sort, which shall have
respect to an unerring judgment, to infinite w^isdom ;
when we are assured this unerring judgment, this
infinite wisdom, does observe upon our actions 1
It is the same with respect to the love of God in
the strictest and most confined sense. We only offer
and represent the highest object of an affection, sup-
posed already in your mind. Some degree of good-
ness must be previously supposed : this always im-
plies the love of itself, an affection to goodness : the
highest, the adequate object of this affection, is perfect
goodness ; which therefore we are to love ivith all our
heart, ivith all our soul, and loiiJi all our strength.
"Must we then, forgetting our own interest, as it
were go out of ourselves, and love God for his own
sake V No more forget your own interest, no more
go out of yourselves, than when you prefer one place,
one prospect, the conversation of one man to that of
another. Does not every affection necessarily imply,
that the object of it be itself loved ? If it be not, it
XIII.] UPON THE LOVE OF GOD. 183
is not the object of the affection. Yon may and
ought if yon can, bnt it is a great mistake to think
you can love or fear or hate any thing, from con-
sideration that such love or fear or hatred may be a
means of obtaining good or avoiding evil. But the
question, whether we ought to love God for his sake
or for our own, being a mere mistake in language ; the
real question, which this is mistaken for, will, I sup-
pose, be answered by observing, that the goodness of
God already exercised towards us, our present depend-
ence upon him, and our expectation of future benefits,
ought, and have a natural tendency, to beget in us
the affection of gratitude, and greater love towards
him, than the same goodness exercised towards others :
were it only for this reason, that every affection is
moved in proportion to the sense we have of the
object of it ; and we cannot but have a more lively
sense of goodness, when exercised towards ourselves,
than when exercised towards others. I added ex-
pectation of future benefits, because the ground of
that expectation is present goodness.
Thus Almighty God is the natural object of the
several affections, love, reverence, fear, desire of ap-
probation. For though he is simply one, yet we
cannot but consider him in partial and different
views. He is in himself one uniform Being, and for
ever the same without variableness or shacloiv of
turning : but his infinite greatness, his goodness, his
wisdom, are different objects to our mind. To which
is to be added, that from the changes in our own
characters, together with his unchangeablencss, we
cannot but consider ourselves as more or less the
objects of his approbation, and really be so. For if
he approves what is good, he cannot, merely from
the unchangeablencss of his nature, approve what is
184 UPON THE LOVE OF GOD. [SERM.
evil. Hence must arise more various movements of
mind, more different kinds of affections. And this
greater variety also is just and reasonable in such
creatures as we are, though it respects a Being
simply one, good and perfect. As some of these
affections are most particularly suitable to so im-
perfect a creature as man, in this mortal state we
are passing through ; so there may be other exer-
cises of mind, or some of these in higher degrees,
our employment and happiness in a state of per-
fection.
SEHMON XIV.
CONSIDER then our ignorance, the imperfection
of our nature, our virtue, and our condition in this
world, with respect to an infinitely good and just
Being, our Creator and Governor ; and you will see
what reHgious affections of mind are most par-
ticularly suitable to this mortal state we are passing
through.
Though we are not affected with any thing so
strongly, as what we discern with our senses ; and
though our nature and condition require, that we be
much taken up about sensible things ; yet our
reason convinces us that God is present with us,
and we see and feel the effects of his goodness : he
is therefore the object of some regards. The imper-
fection of our virtue, joined with the consideration of
his absolute rectitude or holiness, will scarce permit
that perfection of love, which entirely casts out all
XIV.] UPON THE LOVE OF GOU. 185
fear : yet goodness is the object of love to all
creatures who have any degree of it themselves ;
and consciousness of a real endeavour to approve
ourselves to him, joined with the consideration of his
goodness, as it quite excludes servile dread and
horror, so it is plainly a reasonable ground for hope
of his favour. Neither fear nor hope nor love then
are excluded : and one or another of these will pre-
vail, according to the different views we have of
God ; and ought to prevail, according to the changes
we find in our own character. There is a temper of
mind made up of, or which follows from all three,
fear, hope, love ; namely, resignation to the divine
will, which is the general temper belonging to this
state ; which ought to be the habitual frame of our
mind and heart, and to be exercised at proper seasons
more distinctly, in acts of devotion.
Eesignation to the will of God is the whole of
piety : it includes in it all that is good, and is a
source of the* most settled quiet and composure of
mind. There is the general principle of submission
in our nature. Man is not so constituted as to
desire things, and be uneasy in the want of them, in
proportion to their known value : many other consider-
ations come in to determine the degrees of desire ;
particularly whether the advantage we take a view
of be within the sphere of our rank. Who ever felt
uneasiness, upon observing any of the advantages
brute creatures have over us 1 And yet it is plain
they have several. It is the same with respect to
advantages belonging to creatures of a superior
order. Thus, though we see a thing to be highly
valuable, yet that it does not belong to our condition
of being, is sufficient to suspend our desires after it,
to make us rest satisfied without such advantage.
186 UPON THE LOVE OF GOD. [SERM.
Now there is just the same reason for quiet resigna-
tion in the want of every thing equally unattainable,
and out of our reach in particular, though others of
our species be possessed of it. All this may be
applied to the whole of life ; to positive incon-
veniences as well as wants ; not indeed to the
sensations of pain and sorrow, but to all the uneasi-
nesses of reflection, murmuring, and discontent.
Thus is human nature formed to compHance, yielding,
submission of temper. We find the principles of it
within us ; and every one exercises it towards some
objects or other ; i. e. feels it with regard to some
persons, and some circumstances. Now this is an
excellent foundation of a reasonable and relig-ious
resignation. Nature teaches and inclines us to take
up with our lot : the consideration, that the course of
things is unalterable, hath a tendency to quiet the
mind under it, to beget a submission of temper to it.
But when we can add, that this unalterable course is
appointed and continued by infinite wisdom and
goodness ; how absolute should be our submission,
how entire our trust and dependence !
This would reconcile us to our condition; prevent
all the supernumerary troubles arising from imagina-
tion, distant fears, impatience ; all uneasiness, except
that which necessarily arises from the calamities
themselves we may be under. How many of our
cares should we by this means be disburdened of!
Cares not properly our own, how apt soever they
may be to intrude upon us, and ^ve to admit them;
the anxieties of expectation, solicitude about success
and disappointment, which in truth are none of our
concern. How open to every gratification would
that mind be, which was clear of these encum-
brances !
XIV.] UPON THE LOVE OF GOD. 187
Our resignation to the will of God may be .said to
be perfect, when our will is lost and resolved np
into his ; when we rest in his will as our end, as
being itself most just and right and good. And
where is the impossibility of such an affection to
what is just and right and good, such a loyalty of
heart to the Governor of the universe, as shall
prevail over all sinister indirect desires of our own ?
Neither is this at bottom any thing more than faith
and honesty and fairness of mind ; in a more
enlarged sense indeed, than those words are com-
monly used. And as, in common cases, fear and
hope and other passions are raised in us by their
respective objects : so this submission of heart and
soul and mind, this religious resignation, would be as
naturally produced by our having just conceptions of
Almighty God, and a real sense of his presence with
us. In how low a degree soever this temper usually
prevails amongst men, yet it is a temper right in
itself : it is what we owe to our Creator : it is par-
ticularly suitable to our mortal condition, and what
we should endeavour after for our own sakes in our
passage through such a world as this ; wdiere is
nothing upon which we can rest or depend ; nothing
but what we are liable to be deceived and dis-
appointed in. Thus we might acquaint ourselves
ivitJi God, and he at jQeace. This is piety and religion
in the strictest sense, considered as an habit of mind :
an habitual sense of God's presence with us ; being
affected towards him, as present, in the manner his
superior nature requires from such a creature as
man : this is to walk with God.
Little more need be said of devotion or religious
worship, than that it is this temper exerted into act.
The nature of it consists in the actual exercise of
188 FPON THE LOVE OF GOD. [SERM.
those affections towards God, which are supposed
habitual in good men. He is always equally present
with us : but we are so much taken up with sensible
things, that Lo, he goeth hy us, and we see him not :
he passeth on also, hut we perceive him not^. De-
votion is retirement, from the world he has made,
to him alone : it is to withdraw from the avocations
of sense, to employ our attention wholly upon him
as upon an object actually present, to yield ourselves
up to the influence of the divine presence, and to
give full scope to the affections of gratitude, love,
reverence, trust, and dependence ; of which infi-
nite power, wisdom, and goodness is the natural
and only adequate object. We may apply to the
whole of devotion those words of the Son of Si-
rach. When you glorify the Lord, exalt him as much
as you can ; for even yet ivill he far exceed ; and
when you exalt him, put forth all your strength, and
he not weary ; for you can never go far enough ^.
Our most raised affections of every kind cannot but
fall short and be disproportionate, when an infinite
being is the object of them. This is the highest
exercise and employment of mind that a creature is
capable of. As this divine service and worship is
itself absolutely due to God, so also is it necessary in
order to a further end, to keep alive upon our minds
a sense of his authority, a sense that in our ordinary
behaviour amongst men we act under him as our
governor and judge.
Thus you see the temper of mind respecting God,
which is particularly suitable to a state of imper-
fection ; to creatures in a progress of being towards
somewhat further.
Suppose now this something further attained; that
' Job ix. II. d Ecclus. xliii. 30.
XIV.] UPON THE LOVE OF GOD. 189
we were arrived at it : what a perception will it be,
to see and know and feel that our trust was not vain,
our dependence not groundless ? that the issue,
event, and consummation came out such as fully to
justify and answer that resignation 1 If the obscure
view of the divine perfection, which we have in this
world, ought in just consequence to beget an entire
resignation ; what will this resignation be exalted
into, when tve shall see face to face, and know as we
are hioum ? If we cannot form any distinct notion of
that perfection of the love of God, which casts out
all fear; of that enjoyment of him, which will be
the happiness of good men hereafter ; the considera-
tion of our wants and capacities of happiness, and
that he will be an adequate supply to them, must
serve us instead of such distinct conception of the
particular happiness itself.
Let us then suppose a man entirely disengaged
from business and pleasure, sitting down alone and
at leisure, to reflect upon himself and his own con-
dition of being. He would immediately feel that he
was by no means complete of himself, but totally
insufficient for his own hapj^iness. One may venture
to affirm, that every man hath felt this, whether he
hath again reflected upon it or not. It is feeling
this deficiency, that they are unsatisfied with them-
selves, which makes men look out for assistance from
abroad ; and which has given rise to various kinds of
amusements, altogether needless any otherwise than
as they serve to fill up the blank spaces of time, and
so hinder their feeling this deficiency, and being
uneasy with themselves. Now, if these external
tilings we take up with were really an adequate
supply to this deficiency of human nature, if by
their means our capacities and desires were all satis-
190 UPON THE LOVE OF GOD. [SERM.
fied and filled up ; then it might be truly said, that
we had found out the proper happiness of man ; and
so might sit down satisfied, and be at rest m the
enjoyment of it. But if it appears, that the amuse-
ments, which men usually pass their time in, are so
far from coming up to or answering our notions and
desires of happiness, or good, that they are really no
more than what they are commonly called, somewhat
to pass away the time ; i, e. somewhat which serves
to turn us aside from, and prevent our attending to,
this our internal poverty and want ; if they serve
only, or chiefly, to suspend, instead of satisfying our
conceptions and desires of happiness ; if the want
remains, and we have found out little more than
barely the means of making it less sensible ; then
are we still to seek for somewhat to be an adequate
supply to it. It is plain that there is a capacity in
the nature of man, which neither riches nor honours
nor sensual gratifications, nor anything in this world,
can perfectly fill up, or satisfy: there is a deeper
and more essential want, than any of these things
can be the supply of. Yet surely there is a pos-
sibility of somewhat, which may fill up all our
capacities of happiness ; somewhat, in which our
souls may find rest ; somewhat, which may be to us
that satisfactory good we are inquiring after. But it
cannot be any thing which is valuable only as it
tends to some further end. Those therefore wlio
have got this world so much into their hearts, as not
to be able to consider happiness as consisting in any
thing but property and possessions, which are only
valuable as the means to somewhat else, cannot have
the least glimpse of the subject before us ; which is
the end, not the means ; the tlnng itself, not some-
what in order to it. But if you can lay aside that
XIV.] UPON THE LOVE OP GOD. 191
general, confused, undeterminate notion of happiness,
as consisting in such possessions ; and fix in your
thoughts, that it really can consist in nothing but in
a faculty's having its proper object; you will clearly
see, that in the coolest way of consideration, without
either the heat of fanciful enthusiasm, or the
warmth of real devotion, notliing is more certain,
than that an infinite Being may himself be, if he
pleases, the supply to all the capacities of our
nature. All the common enjoyments of life are
from the faculties he hath endued us with, and the
objects he hath made suitable to them. He may
himself be to us infinitelv more than all these : he
may be to us all that we want. As our under-
standing can contemplate itself, and our affections be
exercised upon themselves by reflection, so may
each be employed in the same manner upon any
other mind : and since the Supreme Mind, the
Autlior and Cause of all things, is the highest possi-
ble object to himself, he may be an adequate supply
to all the faculties of our souls ; a subject to our
understanding, and an object to our afiections.
Consider then : when we shall have put off this
mortal body, when we shall be divested of sensual
appetites, and those possessions which are now the
means of gratification shall be of no avail ; when
this restless scene of business and vain pleasures,
wliich now diverts us from ourselves, shall be all
over ; we, our proper self, shall still remain : we shall
still continue the same creatures we are, with wants
to be supplied, and capacities of happiness. We
must have faculties of perception, though not sensi-
tive ones ; and pleasure or imeasiness from oiu: per-
ceptions, as now we have.
There are certain ideas, which we express by
192 UPON THE LOVE OF GOD. [SERM.
the words, order, harmony, proportion, beauty, the
furthest removed from any thing sensual. Now
what is there in those intellectual images, forms, or
ideas, which begets that approbation, love, delight,
and even rapture, which is seen in some persons'
faces upon having those objects present to their
minds ? — " Mere enthusiasm ! " — Be it what it will :
there are objects, works of nature and of art, which
all mankind have delight from, quite distinct from
their affording gratification to sensual appetites ; and
from quite another view of them, than as being for
their interest and further advantag-e. The faculties
from which we are capable of these pleasures, and
the pleasures themselves, are as natural, and as
much to be accounted for, as any sensual appetite
whatever, and the pleasure from its gratification.
Words to be sure are wanting upon this subject : to
say, that everything of grace and beauty throughout
the whole of nature, every thing excellent and
amiable shared in differently lower degrees by the
whole creation, meet in the Author and Cause of all
things ; this is an inadequate, and perhaps improper
way of speaking of the divine nature : but it is
manifest that absolute rectitude, the perfection of
being, must be in all senses, and in every respect,
the highest object to the mind.
In this world it is only the effects of wisdom and
power and greatness which we discern : it is not im-
possible, that hereafter the qualities themselves in
the supreme Being may be the immediate object
of contemplation. AVhat amazing wonders are
ojoened to view by late improvements ! What an
object is the universe to a creature, if there be a
creature who can comprehend its system ! But it
must be an infinitely higher exercise of the under-
XT v.] UPON THE LOVE OF GOD. 193
standing, to view the scheme of it in that mind,
which projected it, before its foundations were kiid.
And surely we have meaning to the words, when we
speak of going further ; and viewing, not only this
system in his mind, but the wisdom and intelligence
itself from whence it proceeded. The same may be
said of power. But since wisdom and power are
not God, he is a wise, a powerful Being ; the divine
nature may therefore be a further object to the
understanding. It is nothing to observe that our
senses give us but an imperfect knowledge of things :
effects themselves, if we knew them thoroughly,
would give us but imperfect notions of wisdom and
power ; much less of his being, in whom they reside.
I am not speaking of any fanciful notion of seeing
all things in God ; but only representing to you,
how much an higher object to the understanding an
infinite Beinoc himself is, than the thinofs which he
has made : and this is no more than saying, that the
Creator is superior to the works of his hands.
This may be illustrated by a low example. Sup-
pose a machine, the sight of which would raise, and
discoveries in its contrivance gratify, our curiosity :
the real delight, in this case, would arise from its
being the effect of skill and contrivance. This skill
in the mind of the artificer would be an higher object,
if we had any senses or ways to discern it. For,
observe, the contemplation of that principle, faculty,
or power which produced any effect, must be an
higher exercise of the understanding, than the con-
templation of the effect itself. The cause must be
an higher object to the mind than the effect.
But whoever considers distinctly what the delight
of knowledge is, will see reason to be satisfied that
it cannot be the chief good of man : all this, as it
BUTLEB, SERMONS. O
194 UPON THE LOVE OF GOD, [SERM.
is applicable, so it was mentioned with regard to
the attribute of goodness. I say, goodness. Our
being and all our enjoyments are the effects of it :
just men bear its resemblance : but how httle do we
know of the original, of what it is in itself? Recall
what was before observed concernino; the affection to
moral characters ; which, in how low a degree soever,
yet is plainly natural to man, and the most excellent
part of his nature : suppose this improved, as it may
be improved, to any degree whatever, in the spirits
of just men made •perfect ; and then suppose that they
had a real view of that righteousness, which is an
everlasti^ig righteousness ; of the conformity of the
divine will to the law of truth, in which the moral
attributes of God consist; of that goodness in the
sovereign Mind, which gave birth to the universe :
add, what will be true of all good men hereafter,
a consciousness of having an interest in what they
are contemplating ; suppose them able to say, This
God is our God for ever and ever : v/ould they be
any longer to seek for what was their chief happi-
ness, their final good ? Could the utmost stretch
of their capacities look further ? Would not infinite
perfect goodness be their very end, the last end and
object of their affections; beyond which they could
neither have nor desire; beyond which they could
not form a wish or thought 1
Consider wherein that presence of a friend con-
sists, which has often so strong an effect, as wholly
to possess the mind, and entirely suspend all other
affections and regards ; and which itself affords the
highest satisfaction and enjoyment. He is within
reach of the senses. Now, as our cajoacities of per-
ception improve, we shall have, perhaps by some
faculty entirely new, a perception of God's presence
XIV.] UPON THE LOVE OF GOD. 195
with us in a nearer and stricter way; since it is
certain he is more intimately present with us than
any thing else can be. Proof of the existence and
presence of any being is quite different from the
immediate perception, the consciousness of it. What
then will be the joy of heart, which his pre-
sence, and the light of his countenance, who is the
life of the universe, will inspire good men with,
when they shall have a sensation, that he is the
snstainer of their being, that they exist in him;
when they shall feel his influence to cheer and en-
liven and support their frame, in a manner of which
we have now no conception 1 He will be in a literal
sense thei?^ strength and their portion for ever.
When we speak of things so much above our
comprehension, as the employment and happiness
of a future state, doubtless it behoves us to speak
with all modesty and distrust of ourselves. But
the scripture represents the happiness of that state
under the notions of seeing God, seeing him as he
is, knoiving as ive are knoivn, and seeing face to
face. These words are not general or undeter-
mined, but express a particular determinate happi-
ness. And I will be bold to say, that nothing can
account for or come up to these expressions, but
only this, that God himself will be an object to
our faculties, that he himself will be our happi-
ness ; as distinguished from the enjoyments of the
present state, which seem to arise, not immediately
from him, but from the objects he has adapted to
give us delight.
To conclude : Let us suppose a person tii*ed with
care and sorrow and the repetition of vain delights
which fiQl up the round of life ; sensible that every
thing here below in its best estate is altogether
o 2
196 UPON THE LOVE OF GOD. [SERM.
vanity. Suppose him to feel that deficiency of
human nature, before taken notice of; and to be
convinced that God alone was the adequate supply
to it. What could be more appHcable to a good
man in this state of mind ; or better express his
present wants and distant hopes, his passage through
this world as a progress towards a state of perfec-
tion, than the following passages in the devotions
of the royal prophet 1 They are plainly in an higher
and more proper sense applicable to this, than they
could be to any thing else. / have see7i an end of
all perfection. Wliom have I in heaven hut thee ?
And there is none u^on eay^th that I desire in com-
parison of thee. My fiesh and iny heart faileth :
but God is the strength of my heart, and my jportion
for ever. Like as the hart desireth the water-brooks,
so longeth my soid after thee, God. My soul is
athirst for God, yea, even for the living God : ivhen
shall I come to appear hefo7'e him ? How excellent
is thy lovingkindness, God ! and the children of
men shall jptit their trust under the shadoiv of thy
luings. They shall be satisfied with the plenteous-
ness of thy house : and thou shcdt give them drink
of thy pleasures, as out of the river. For with thee
IS the well of life : and in thy light shall we see
light. Blessed is the ma7i ivhom thou choosest, and
receivest unto thee : he shall dwell in thy court, and
shall be satisfied with the pleasures of thy house,
even of thy holy terrqjle. Blessed is the people,
Lord, that can rejoice in thee : they shall walk in
the light of thy countenance. Their delight shall
be daily in thy name, and in thy righteousness
shall they make their boast. For thou art the glory
of their strength: and in thy lovingkindness they
shall be exalted. As for me, I will behold thy
XIV.] UPON THE LOVE OF GOD. 197
presence in righteousness : and when I aivahe vjy
after thy likeness, I shall he satisfied with it. Thou
shah shew me the ijath of life ; in thy presence is
the fidness of joy, and at thy right hand there is
pleasure for evermore.
SEEMON XV.
UPON THE IGNORANCE OF MAN.
EccLES. viii. 16, 17.
When I applied mine heart to know wisdom., and to see the busi-
ness that is done upon the earth : then I beheld all the work
of God, that a man cannot find out the tvork that is done
under the sun: because though a man labour to seek it out,
yet he shall not find it ; yea further ; though a wise man think
to knoio it, yet shall he not be able to find it.
rpHE writings of Solomon are very much taken up
-*- with reflections upon human nature and human
life ; to which he hath added, in this book, reflec-
tion upon the constitution of things. And it is
not improbable, that the little satisfaction and the
great difficulties he met with in his researches into
the general constitution of nature, might be the
occasion of his confining himself, so much as he
hath done, to life and conduct. However, upon
that joint review he expresses great ignorance of
the works of God, and the method of his provi-
dence in the government of the world ; great la-
bour and weariness in the search and observation
he had employed himself about ; and great dis-
appointment, pain, and even vexation of mind,
upon that which he had remarked of the appear-
ances of things, and of what was going forward
UPON THE IGNORANCE OF MAN. 199
upon this earth. This whole review and inspection,
and the result of it, sorrow, perplexity, a sense
of his necessary ignorance, suggests various reflec-
tions to his mind. But, notwithstanding all this
ignorance and dissatisfaction, there is somewhat
upon which he assuredly rests and depends ; some-
what, which is the conclusion of the whole matter,
and the only concern of man. Following this his
method and train of reflection, let us consider,
I. The assertion of the text, the ignorance of
man; that the wisest and most knowing cannot
comprehend the ways and works of God : and then,
II. What are the just consequences of this ob-
servation and knowledge of our own ignorance, and
the reflections which it leads us to.
I. The wisest and most knowing cannot compre-
hend the works of God, the methods and designs
of his providence in the creation and government
of the world.
Creation is absolutely and entirely out of our
depth, and beyond the extent of our utmost reach.
And yet it is as certain that God made the world,
as it is certain that effects must have a cause. It
is indeed in general no more than efiects, that the
most knowing are acquainted with : for as to causes,
they are as entirely in the dark as the most ignor-
ant. What are the laws by which matter acts
upon matter, but certain effects ; which some,
having observ^ed to be frequently repeated, have
reduced to general rules "? The real nature and
essence of beings likewise is what we are alto-
gether ignorant of All these things are so en-
tirely out of our reach, that we have not the least
glimpse of them. And we know little more of orn*-
selves, than we do of the world about us : how we
200 UPON THE IGNORANCE OF MAN. [SERM.
were made, how our being is continued and pre-
served, what the faculties of our minds are, and
upon what the power of exercising them depends.
/ am fearfully and ivonderfully mad.e : marvellous
are thy tvorhs, and that my soul knoweth right well.
Our own nature, and the objects we are surrounded
with, serve to raise our curiosity; but we are quite
out of a condition of satisfying it. Every secret
which is disclosed, every discovery which is made,
every new effect which is brought to view, serves
to convince us of numberless more which remain
concealed, and which we had before no suspi-
cion of. And what if we were acquainted with
the whole creation, in the same way and as
thoroughly as we are with any single object in
it 1 What would all this natural knowledge amount
to % It must be a low curiosity indeed which such
superficial knowledge could satisfy. On the con-
trary, would it not serve to convince us of our
ignorance still ; and to raise our desire of knowing
the nature of things themselves, tlie author, the
cause, and the end of them ?
As to the government of the world : though from
consideration of the final causes which come within
our knowledge ; of characters, personal merit and
demerit ; of the favour and disapprobation, which
respectively are due and belong to the righteous
and the wicked, and which therefore must neces-
sarily be in a mind which sees things as they really
are ; though, I say, from hence we may know some-
what concerning the designs of Providence in the
government of the world, enough to enforce upon
us religion and the practice of virtue : yet, since
the monarchy of the universe is a dominion un-
limited in extent, and everlasting in duration ; the
XV.] UPON THE IGNORANCE OF MAN, 201
general system of it must necessarily be quite
beyond our comprehension. And, since there ap-
pears such a subordination and reference of the
several parts to each other, as to constitute it
properly one administration or government ; we
cannot have a thorough knowledge of any part,
without knowing the whole. This surely should
convince us, that we are much less competent
judges of the very small part which comes under
our notice in this world, than we are apt to imagine.
JSFo heai't can think ufon these things ivorthihj : and
who is able to coyiceive his way f It is a tempest
ivhich no man can see: for the most j9ar^ of his
luorks are hid. Who can declare the ivorJcs of his
justice ? for his covenant is afar off, and the trial
of cdl things is in the end : i. e. The dealings of
God with the children of men are not yet com-
pleted, and cannot be judged of by that part which
is before us. So that a man cannot say, This is
ivorse than that : for in time they shcdl he ivell
ajpjproved. Thy faithfulness, Lord, reacheth unto
the clouds : thy righteousness standeth like the stormy
mountains : thy judgments are like the great dee]).
He hath made every thing heautifid in his time:
also he hath set the ivorld in their heart ; so that
no man can fnd out the ivork that God maheth
from the beginning to the end. And thus St. Paul
concludes a long argument upon the various dis-
pensations of Providence : the depth of the riches,
both of the ivisdom and knoivledge of God ! How
unsearchable are his judgments, and his ways past
finding out ! For ivho hath known the mind of the
Lord f
Thus the scheme of Providence, the ways and
works of God, are too vast, of too large extent for
202 UPON THE IGNORANCE OF MAN. [SERM.
our capacities. There is, as I may speak, such an
expense of power and wisdom and goodness, in the
formation and government of the world, as is too
much for us to take in, or comprehend. Power and
wisdom and goodness are manifest to us in all those
works of God which come within our view : but
there are likewise infinite stores of each poured forth
throughout the immensity of the creation; no part
of which can be thoroughly understood, without
taking in its reference and respect to the whole :
and this is what we have not faculties for.
And as the works of God, and his scheme of
government, are above our capacities thoroughly to
comprehend : so there possibly may be reasons which
originally made it fit that many things should be
concealed from us, which we have perhaps natural
capacities of understanding ; many things concerning
the designs, methods, and ends of Divine Providence
in the government of the world. There is no manner
of absurdity in supposing a veil on purpose drawn
over some scenes of infinite power, wisdom, and
goodness, the sight of which might some way or
other strike us too strongly ; or that better ends are
designed and served by their being concealed, than
could be by their being exposed to our knowledge.
The Almighty may cast clouds and darkness round
about him, for reasons and purposes of which we have
not the least glimpse or conception.
However, it is surely reasonable, and what might
have been expected, that creatures in some stage of
their being, suppose in the infancy of it, should be
placed in a state of discipline and improvement, where
their patience and submission is to be tried by afilic-
tions, where temptations are to be resisted, and diffi-
culties gone through in the discharge of their duty.
XV.] UPON THE IGNORANCE OF MAN. 203
Now if the greatest pleasures and pains of the present
life may be overcome and suspended, as they mani-
festly may, by hope and fear, and other passions and
affections ; then the evidence of religion, and the
sense of the consequences of virtue and vice, might
have been such, as entirely in all cases to prevail over
those afflictions, difficulties, and temptations ; prevail
over them so, as to render them absolutely none at
all. But the very notion itself now mentioned, of
a state of discipline and improvement, necessarily
excludes such sensible evidence and conviction of
religion, and of the consequences of virtue and vice.
Keligion consists in submission and resignation to the
divine will. Our condition in this world is a school
of exercise for this temper : and our ignorance, the
shallowness of our reason, the temptations, difficul-
ties, afflictions, which we are exposed to, all equally
contribute to make it so. The general observation
may be carried on ; and whoever will attend to the
thing will plainly see, that less sensible evidence,
with less difficulty in practice, is the same, as more
sensible evidence, with greater difficulty in practice.
Therefore difficidties in speculation as much come
into the notion of a state of disciphne, as difficulties
in practice : and so the same reason or account is to be
given of both. Thus, though it is indeed absurd to
talk of the greater merit of assent, upon little or no
evidence, than upon demonstration ; yet the strict
discharge of our duty, with less sensible evidence,
does imply in it a better character, than the same
diligence in the discharge of it upon more sensible
evidence. This fully accounts for and explains that
assertion of our Saviour, Blessed are they that
have not seen, and yet have believed^; have become
^ John XX. 29.
204 UPON THE IGNORANCE OF MAN. [sERM.
Christians and obeyed tlie gospel, upon less sensible
evidence, than that whicli Thomas, to whom he is
speaking, insisted upon.
But after all, the same account is to be given, why
we were placed in these circumstances of ignorance,
as why nature has not furnished us with wings ;
namely, that we were designed to be inhabitants of
this earth. I am afraid we think too highly of our-
selves ; of our rank in the creation, and of what is due
to us. What sphere of action, what business is as-
signed to man, that he has not capacities and know-
ledge fully equal to ? It is manifest he has reason
and knowledge, and faculties superior to the business
of the present world : faculties which appear super-
fluous, if we do not take in the respect which they
have to somewhat further, and beyond it. If to
acquire knowledge were our proper end, we should
indeed be but poorly provided : but if somewhat else
be our business and duty, we may, notwithstanding
our ignorance, be well enough furnished for it ; and
the observation of our ignorance may be of assistance
to us in the discharge of it.
II. Let us then consider, what are the consequences
of this knowledge and observation of our own igno-
rance, and the reflection it leads us to.
First, we may learn from it, with what temper of
mind a man ought to inquire into the subject of reli-
gion ; namely, with expectation of finding difficulties,
and with a disposition to take up and rest satisfied
with any evidence whatever, which is real.
He should beforehand expect things mysterious,
and such as he will not be able thoroughly to com-
prehend, or go to the bottom of. To expect a dis-
tinct comprehensive view of the whole subject, clear
of difficulties and objections, is to forget our nature
XV.] UPON THE IGNORANCE OF MAN. 205
and condition; neither of which admit of such
knowledge, with respect to any science whatever.
And to inquire with this expectation, is not to
inquire as a man, but as one of another order of
creatures.
Due sense of the general ignorance of man would
also beget in us a disposition to take up and rest satis-
fied with any evidence whatever, which is real. I
mention this as the contrary to a disposition, of which
there are not wanting instances, to find fault with and
reject evidence, because it is not such as was desired.
If a man were to walk by twilight, must he not follow^
his eyes as much as if it were broad day and clear
sunshine 1 Or if he were obliged to take a journey
by night, would he not give heed to any light shining
in the darkness, till the day should break and the day-
star arise ? It would not be altogether unnatural
for him to reflect how much better it were to have
day-light ; he might perhaps have great curiosity to
see the country round about him ; he might lament
that the darkness concealed many extended prospects
from his eyes, and wish for the sun to draw away the
veil: but how ridiculous would it be to reject with
scorn and disdain the guidance and direction which
that lesser light might afford him, because it was not
the sun itself! If the make and constitution of man,
the circumstances he is placed in, or the reason of
things affords the least hint or intimation, that virtue
is the law he is born under ; scepticism itself should
lead him to the most strict and inviolable practice of
it; that he may not make the dreadful experiment,
of leavmg the course of life marked out for him by
nature, whatever that nature be, and entermg paths
of his own, of which he can know neither the dangers
nor the end. For though no danger be seen, yet
206 UPON THE IGNORANCE OF MAN. [SERM.
darkness, ignorance, and blindness are no manner
of security.
Secondly, Our ignorance is the proper answer to
many things, which are called objections against reli-
gion ; particularly, to those which arise from the ap-
pearances of evil and irregularity in the constitution
of nature and the government of the world. In all
other cases it is thought necessary to be thoroughly
acquainted with the whole of a scheme, even one of so
narrow a compass as those which are formed by men,
in order to judge of the goodness or badness of it :
and the most slight and superficial view of any human
contrivance comes abundantly nearer to a thorough
knowledge of it, than that part, which we know of the
government of the world, does to the general scheme
and system of it ; to the whole set of laws by which it
is governed. From our ignorance of the constitution
of things, and the scheme of Providence in the govern-
ment of the world ; from the reference the several
parts have to each other, and to the whole ; and from
our not being able to see the end and the whole ;
it follows, that however perfect things are, they must
even necessarily appear to us otherwise less perfect
than they are ^.
^ Suppose some very comjylicated piece of zvorJc, some system or
constitution, formed for some general end, to which each of the parts
had a reference. The perfection or justness of this work or consti-
tution would consist in the reference and respect, which the several
parts have to the general design. This reference of parts to the
general design may be infinitely various, both in degree and kind.
Thus one part may only contribute and be subservient to another ;
this to a third ; and so on through a long series, the last part of
which alone may contribute immediately and directly to the general
design. Or a part may have this distant reference to the general
design, and may also contribute immediately to it. For instance : if
the general design or end, for which the complicated frame of na-
ture was brought into being, is happiness ; whatever affords present
XV.] UPON THE IGNORANCE OF MAN. 207
Thirdly, Since the constitution of nature, and the
methods and designs of Providence in the government
of the world, are above our comprehension, we should
acquiesce in, and rest satisfied with, our ignorance,
turn our thoughts from that which is above and
beyond us, and apply ourselves to that which is level
to our capacities, and which is our real business and
concern. Knowledge is not our proper happiness.
Whoever will in the least attend to the thing will
see, that it is the gaining, not the having of it, which
is the entertainment of the mind. Indeed, if the
proper happiness of man consisted in knowledge con-
sidered as a possession or treasure, men who are
possessed of the largest share would have a very ill
time of it ; as they would be infinitely more sensible
than others of their poverty in this respect. Thus
satisfaction, and likewise tends to carry on the course of thiugs, hath
this double respect to the general design. Now suppose a spectator
of that work or constitution was in a great measure ignorant of such
various reference to the general end, whatever that end be ; and
that, upon a very slight and partial view which he had of the work,
several things appeared to his eye disproportionate and wrong ; others,
just and beautiful : what would he gather from these appearances 1
He would immediately conclude there was a probability, if he could
see the whole reference of the parts appearing wrong to the general
design, that this would destroy the appearance of wrongness and dis-
proportion : but there is no probability, that the reference would
destroy the particular right appearances, though that reference might
shew the things already appearing just, to be so likewise in an higher
degi-ee or another manner. There is a px'obability, that the right
appearances were intended : there is no probability, that the wrong
appearances were. "We cannot suspect irregulai-ity and disorder to
be designed. The pillars of a building appear beautiful ; but their
being likewise its support does not destroy that beauty : there still
remains a reason to believe that the architect intended the beautiful
appearance, after we have found out the reference, support. It
would be reasonable for a man of himself to think thus, upon the
first piece of architecture he ever saw.
208 UPON THE IGNORANCE OF MAN. [SEEM.
he who increases hnoivledge would eminently increase
sorrow. Men of deep research and curious in-
quiry should just be put in mind, not to mistake
what they are doing. If their discoveries serve the
cause of virtue and religion, in the way of proof,
motive to practice, or assistance in it ; or if they tend
to render life less unhappy, and promote its satis-
factions ; then they are most usefully employed : but
bringing things to light, alone and of itself, is of no
manner of use, any otherwise than as an entertain-
ment or diversion. Neither is this at all amiss, if it
does not take up the time which should be employed
in better work. But it is evident that there is another
mark set up for us to aim at ; another end appointed
us to direct our lives to : an end, which the most
knowing may fail of, and the most ignorant arrive
at. The secret things helong unto the Lord our God ;
hut those things v;hich are revealed helong unto us, and
to our children for ever, that we may do all the words
of this law. Which reflection of Moses, put in general
terms, is, that the only knowledge, which is of any
avail to us, is that which teaches us our duty, or
assists us in the discharge of it. The economy of the
universe, the course of nature, almighty 230wer ex-
erted in the creation and government of the world, is
out of our reach. What would be the consequence, if
we could really get an insight into these things, is very
uncertain ; whether it would assist us in, or divert us
from, what we have to do in this present state. If
then there be a sphere of knowledge, of contempla-
tion and employment, level to our capacities, and of
the utmost importance to us; we ought surely to
apply ourselves with all diligence to this our proper
business, and esteem every thing else nothing, nothing
as to us, in comj^arison of it. Thus Job, discoursing of
XV.] UPON THE IGNORANCE OF MAN. 209
natural knowledge, how much it is above us, and of
wisdom in general, says, God understandeth the ivay
thereof, and he knoiveth the place thereof. And unto
ma7i he said, Behold, the fear of the Lord, that is
ivisdom, and to depart from evil is under standiiig.
Other orders of creatures may perhaps be let into
the secret counsels of Heaven ; and have the designs
and methods of Providence, in the creation and gov-
ernment of the world, communicated to them : but
this does not belong to our rank or condition. The
fear of the Lord, and to depart from evil, is the only
wisdom which man should aspire after, as his w^ork
and business. The same is said, and with the same
connection and context, in the conclusion of the book
of Ecclesiastes. Our ignorance, and the little we can
know of other things, affords a reason why we should
not perplex ourselves about them ; but no way invali-
dates that which is the conclusio7i of the luhole ^natter,
Fear God, and keep his co7nmandments ; for this is the
ivhole concern of man. So that Socrates was not the
first who endeavoured to draw men off from labouring
after, and laying stress upon other knowledge, in
comparison of that which related to morals. Our
province is virtue and rehgion, life and manners;
the science of improving the temper, and making
the heart better. This is the field assigned us to
cultivate: how much it has lain neglected is indeed
astonishing. Virtue is demonstrably the happmess
of man : it consists in good actions, proceeding from
a good principle, temper, or heart. Overt-acts are
entirely in our power. What remains is, that we
learn to keep our heart ; to govern and regulate our
passions, mind, affections : that so we may be free
from the impotencies of fear, envy, malice, covetous-
ness, ambition; that we may be clear of these, con-
BUTLER, SEEMONS. P
210 UPON THE IGNORANCE OF MAN. [SERM.
siderecl as vices seated in the heart, considered as
constituting a general wrong temper ; from which
general wrong frame of mind, all the mistaken pur-
suits, and far the greatest part of tlie unhappiness of
life, proceed. He, who should find out one rule to
assist us in this work, would deserve infinitely better
of mankind, than all the improvers of other know-
ledge put together.
Lastly, Let us adore that infinite wisdom and
power and goodness, which is above our comprehen-
sion. To whom hath the root of vjisdom been revealed ?
Or who hath known her luise counsels? There is one
wise and greatly to he feared; the Lord sitting upon
his throne. Tie created her, and saiv her, and num-
bered her, and 'poured her out up>on all his works. If
it be thought a considerable thing to be acquainted
with a few, a very few, of the effects of infinite power
and wisdom ; the situation, bigness, and revolution of
some of the heavenly bodies ; wliat sentiments should
our minds be filled with concerning Him, who ap-
pointed to each its place and measure and sphere of
motion, all which are kept with the most uniform
constancy ! Who stretched out the heavens, and
telleth the numher of the stars, and calleth them all by
their names. WJio laid the foundations of the earth,
ivho comprehendeth the dust of it in a measure, and
weigheth the mountains in scales, and the hills in a
balayice. And, when we have recounted all the ap-
pearances wliich come within our view, we must add,
Lo, these a7'e part of his icays; but how little cc portion
is heard of him ! Canst thou by searching find out
God? Canst thou find out the Almighty unto perfec-
tion? It is as high as heaven; what canst thou do?
deeper than hell; what canst thou know?
The conclusion is, that in all lowliness of mind we
XV.] UPON THE IGNORANCE OF MAN. 211
set lightly by ourselves : that we form our temper to
an implicit submission to the Divine Majesty; beget
within ourselves an absolute resignation to all the
methods of his providence, in his dealings with the
children of men : that, in the deepest humility of our
souls, we prostrate ourselves before him, and join in
that celestial song ; Great and marvellous are thy
works, Lord God Almighty ! just and true are thy
loays, thou King of saints ! Who shall not fear thee,
Lord, and glorify thy name f
P 2
SIX SERMONS
PREACHED UPON
PUBLIC OCCASIONS.
SERMON I.
PREACHED BEFORE THE INCORPORATED SOCIETY FOR THE
PROPAGATION OF THE GOSPEL IN FOREIGN PARTS,
AT THEIR ANNIVERSARY MEETING IN THE PARISH CHURCH
OF ST. MARY-LE-BOW,
ON FRIDAY, FEBRUARY 16, 1738-9.
Matt. xxiv. 14.
And this gosjoel of the hiriffdom shall he iireached in all thetoorld,
for a witness unto all nations.
rjlHE general doctrine of religion, that all things
-^ are under the direction of one righteous Gov-
ernor, having been established by repeated revelations
in tlie first ages of the world, was left with the bulk
of mankind, to be honestly preserved pure and entire,
or carelessly forgotten, or wilfully corrupted. And
tliough reason, almost intuitively, bare witness to
the truth of this moral system of nature, yet it
soon appeared, that they did not like to retain God
in their hioidedge^, as to any purposes of real piety.
Natural religion became gradually more and more
darkened with superstition, little understood, less
regarded in practice; and the face of it scarce dis-
cernible at all, in the religious establishments of the
most learned, polite nations. And how much soever
^ Rom. i. 28.
216 A SERMON BEFORE THE SOCIETY FOR [SERM.
could have been done towards the revival of it by
the light of reason, yet this light could not have dis-
covered, what so nearly concerned us, that important
part in the scheme of this world, which regards a
Mediator; nor how far the settled constitution of its
government admitted repentance to be accepted for
remission of sins; after the obscure intimations of
these things, from tradition, were corrupted or for-
gotten. One people indeed had clearer notices of
them, together with the genuine scheme of natural
religion, preserved in the primitive and subsequent
revelations committed to their trust; and were de-
signed to be a witness of God and a Providence to
the nations around them: but this people also had
corrupted themselves and their religion to the high-
est degree, that was consistent with keeping up the
form of it.
In this state of things, when infinite Wisdom saw
proper, the general doctrine of religion was authorita-
tively republished in its puiity; and the particular
dispensation of Providence, which this world is under,
manifested to all men, even the dispensation of the
grace of God ^ towards us, as sinful, lost creatures,
to be recovered by repentance through a Mediator;
who was to make reconciliatioyi for iniquity, and to
bring in everlasting righteousness^, and at length
establish that new state of things foretold by the
prophet Daniel, under the character of a kingdom,
which the God of heaven woidd set up, and ivhich
should never he desty^oyed^. This, including a more
distinct account of the instituted means, whereby
Christ the Mediator would gather together in one the
children of God, that ivere scattey^ed abroad^, and con-
i> Eph. iii. 2. «= Dun. ix. 24.
i' Dan. ii. 44. ^ John xi. 52.
I.] THE PROPAGATION OF THE GOSPEL. 217
duct them to the place he is gone to jyreparefor tJiem^ ;
is the gospel of the kingdom ^, which he here foretells,
and elsewhere commands, should he preached in all
the ymrld, for a vjitness unto all nations. And it fii^st
hegan to he spoken hy the Lord, and was confirmed
unto us hy them that heard him ; God also hearing
them witness, hoth ivith signs and ivondei^s, and with
divers miracles, and gifts of the Holy Ghost, accord-
ing to his own will ^ : by which means it was spread
very widely among the nations of the world, and be-
came a ivitness unto them.
When thus much was accomplished, as there is a
wonderful uniformity in the conduct of Providence,
Christianity was left with Christians, to be trans-
mitted down pure and genuine, or to be corrupted
and sunk ; in like manner as the religion of nature
had been before left with mankind in general.
There was however this difference, that by an insti-
tution of external religion fitted for all men, (con-
sisting in a common form of Christian worship,
together with a standing ministry of instruction and
discipline,) it pleased God to unite Christians in
communities or visible churches, and all along to
preserve them, over a great part of the world ; and
thus perpetuate a general publication of the gospel.
For these communities, which together make up the
catholic visible church, are, first, the repositories of
the written oracles of God ; and, in every age, have
preserved and pubHshed them, in every country,
where the profession of Christianity has obtained.
Hence it has come to pass, and it is a thing very
much to be observed in the appointment of Pro-
vidence, that even such of these communities, as, in
a long succession of years, have corrupted Chris-
^ John xiv. 2, 3. g Matt. iv. 23. '^ Heb. ii. 3, 4.
218 A SERMON BEFORE THE SOCIETY FOR [SERM.
tianity the most, have yet continually carried, to-
gether with their corruptions, the confutation of
them: for they have every where preserved the
pure original standard of it, the scripture, to which
recourse might have been had, both by the de-
ceivers and the deceived, in every successive age.
Secondly, any particular church, in whatever place
established, is like a city that is set on a hill, ivhich
cannot he hid\ inviting all who pass by, to enter
into it. All persons, to whom any notices of it
come, have, in scripture language, the kingdom of
God coine nigh unto them. They are reminded of
that religion, which natural conscience attests the
truth of: and they may, if they will, be instructed
in it more distinctly, and likewise in the gracious
means, whereby sinful creatures may obtain eternal
life ; that chief and final good, which all men, m
proportion to their understanding and integrity,
even in all ages and countries of the heathen world,
were ever in pursuit of. And, lastly, out of these
churches have all along gone forth persons, who
have preached the gospel in remote places, with
greater or less good effect : for the establishment of
any profession of Christianity, however corrupt, I
call a good effect, whilst accompanied with a con-
tinued publication of the scripture, notwithstanding
it may for some time lie quite neglected.
From these things, it may be worth observing
by the way, appears the weakness of all pleas for
neglecting the public service of the church. For
though a man prays with as much devotion and
less interruption at home, and reads better sermons
there, yet that will by no means excuse the neg-
lect of his apjjointed part in keeping up the pro-
i Matt. V. 14.
I.] THE PROPAOATIOX OF THE GOSPEL. 219
fession of Christianity amongst mankind. And
this neglect, were it universal, must be the dis-
solution of the whole visible church, i. e. of all
Christian communities; and so must prevent those
good purposes, which were intended to be answered
by them, and which they have, all along, answered
over the world. For we see that by their means
the event foretold in the text, which began in the
preaching of Christ and the apostles, has been car-
ried on, more or less, ever since, and is still cany-
ing on ; these being the providential means of its
progress. And it is, I suppose, the completion of
this event, which St. John had a representation of,
under the figure of an angel flying in the midst of
heaven, having the everlasting gosj^el to ])reach unto
them that dwell on the earth, and to every nation,
and kindred, and tongue, and j;eop/e ^.
Our Lord adds in the text, that this should be
for a ivitness unto them ; for an evidence of their
duty, and an admonition to perform it. But what
woidd be the effect, or success of the general
preachmg of the gospel, is not here mentioned.
And therefore the prophecy of the text is not
parallel to those others in scripture, which seem to
foretell the glorious establishment of Christianity
in the last days: nor does it appear that they are
coincident; otherwise than as the former of these
events must be supposed preparatory to the latter.
Nay, it is not said here, that God willeth all men
should he saved, and come unto the knowledge of the
truth ^ : though this is the language of scripture
elsewhere. The text declares no more, than that
it was the appointment of God, in his righteous
k Rev. xiv. 6. l i Tim. ii. 4.
220 A SEEMON BEFORE THE SOCIETY FOR [SERM.
government over the world, that the gospel of the
kingdom should he j^9re«c/iecZ for a witness unto it.
The visible constitution and course of nature,
the moral law written in our hearts, the positive
institutions of religion, and even any memorial of
it, are all spoken of in scripture under this or the
like denomination : so are the prophets, apostles,
and our Lord himself. They are all ivitnesses, for
the most part unregarded witnesses, in behalf of
God, to mankind. They inform us of his being and
providence, and of the particular dispensation of
religion which we are under; and continually re-
mind us of them. And they are equally witnesses
of these things, whether we regard them or not.
Thus after a declaration, that Ezekiel should be sent
with a divine message to the children of Israel, it
is added, and they, ivhether they ivill hear, or ivhether
they will forbear, {for they are a rehellious house,)
yet shall know that there hath been a jyrojphet among
them'^^K And our Lord directs the seventy disciples,
upon their departure from any city, which refused
to receive them, to declare, Notwithstanding, he ye
sure of this, that the hingdom of God is come nigh
unto you^. The thing intended in both these pas-
sages is that which is expressed in the text by the
word ivitness. And all of them together evidently
suggest thus much, that the purposes of Providence
are carried on, by the preaching of the gospel to
those who reject it, as well as to those who embrace
it. It is indeed true, God wllleth that all men
should he saved : yet, from the unalterable consti-
tution of his government, the salvation of every
man cannot but depend upon his behaviour, and
therefore cannot but depend upon himself; and is
"» Ezek. ii. 5. 7. n Luke x. 11.
1.] THE rUOrAOATION OF THE GOSPEL. 221
necessarily his own concern, in a sense, in which it
cannot be another's. All this the scripture declares,
in a manner the most forcible and alarming : Can a
man he 2^'i^ojitable unto God, as he that is wise may
he profitable unto himself f Is it any pleasure to
the Almighty, that thou art righteous'^ or is it gain
to Him, that thou makest thy way perfect ^ f If
thou he ivise, thou shalt he wise for thyself: hit if
thou scornest, thou alone shalt bear it p. He that
heareth, let him hear; and he that forheareth, let
him forbear ^. And again. He that hath ears to
hear, let him hear: hut if any inan be ignorant,
i. e. wilfully, let him he ig7iorant ^. To the same
purpose are those awful words of the angel, in the
person of Him, to whom all judgment is committed ^ :
He that is unjust, let him be unjust still : and he
ivhich is filthy, let him he filthy still : and he that
is righteous, let him he righteous still : and he that
is holy, let him be holy still. And behold, I come
quickly; and my i^eivard is with me, to give every
TYian acco7rding as his work shcdl be *. The righteous
government of the world must be carried on ; and,
of necessity, men shall remain the subjects of it, by
being examples of its mercy or of its justice. Life
and death are set before them, and whether they
like shall he given unto them^. They are to make
their choice, and abide by it : but which soever their
choice be, the gospel is equally a ivitness to them ;
and the purposes of Providence are answered by
this witness of the gospel.
From the foregoing view of things we should be
reminded, that the same reasons which make it our
o Job xxii. 2, 3. P Prov. ix. 12.
« Ezek. iii. 27. r 1 Cor. xiv. 38. " John v. 22.
t Rev. xxii. II, 12. " Ecclus. xv. 17.
222 A SERMON BEFOEE THE SOCIETY FOE [SEEM.
duty to instruct the ignorant in the relation, which
the light of nature shews they stand in to God
their maker, and in the obligations of obedience,
resignation, and love to him, which arise out of
that relation ; make it our duty likewise to instruct
them in all those other relations, which revelation
informs us of, and in the obligations of duty, whicli
arise out of them. And the reasons for instructing
men in both these are of the very same kind,
as for communicating any useful knowledge what-
ever. God, if he had so pleased, could indeed
miraculously have revealed every religious truth
which concerns mankind, to every individual man;
and so he could have every common truth; and
thus have superseded all use of human teaching in
either. Yet he has not done this : but has ap-
pointed, that men should be instructed by the
assistance of their fellow-creatures in both. Fur-
ther : though all knowledge from reason is as really
from God as revelation is : vet this last is a dis-
tinguished favour to us, and naturally strikes us
with the greatest awe, and carries in it an assurance,
that those things which we are informed of by it
are of the utmost importance to us to be informed
of Kevelation therefore, as it demands to be re-
ceived with a regard and reverence peculiar to
itself; so it lays us under obligations, of a like
peculiar sort, to communicate the light of it. Fm--
ther still : it being an indispensable law of the
gospel, that Christians should unite in religious
communities, and these being intended for ''re230si-
tories of the written oracles of God, for standing
memorials of religion to unthinking men, and for
the propagation of it in the world; Christianity is
X P. 217, 318.
I.] THE PROPAGATION OP THE GOSPEL. 223
very particularly to be considered as a trust, depo-
sited with us in behalf of others, in behalf of man-
kind, as well as for our own instruction. No one
has a right to be called a Christian, who doth not
do somewhat in his station towards the discharge
of this trust; who doth not, for instance, assist in
keeping up the profession of Christianity where he
lives. And it is an obhgation but little more re-
mote, to assist in doing it in our factories abroad ;
and in the colonies to which we are related, by
their being peopled from our own mother-country,
and subjects, indeed very necessary ones, to the same
government with ourselves : and nearer yet is the ob-
ligation upon such persons in particular, as have the
intercourse of an advantageous commerce with them.
Of these our colonies, the slaves ought to be
considered as inferior members, and therefore to be
treated as members of them ; and not merely as
cattle or goods, the property of their masters. Nor
can the highest property, possible to be acquired in
these servants, cancel the obligation to take care of
their religious instruction. Despicable as they may
appear in our eyes, they are the creatures of God,
and of the race of mankind, for whom Christ died :
and it is inexcusable to keep them in ignorance of
the end for which they were made, and the means
whereby they may become partakers of the general
redemption. On the contrary, if the necessity of
the case requires, that they may be treated with the
very utmost rigour that humanity will at all per-
mit, as they certainly are; and, for our advantage,
made as miserable as they well can be in the pre-
sent world; this surely heightens our obligation to
put them into as advantageous a situation as we
are able, with regard to another.
224 A SERMON BEFORE THE SOCIETY FOR [SERM.
The like charity we owe to the natives ; owe to
them in a much stricter sense than we are apt to con-
sider, were it only from neighbourhood, and our
having gotten possessions in their country. For in-
cidental circumstances of this kind appropriate all
the general obligations of charity to particular per-
sons ; and make such and such instances of it the
duty of one man rather than another. We are most
strictly bound to consider these poor uninformed
creatures, as being in all respects of one family
with ourselves, the family of mankind; and instruct
them in our common salvation'^ : that they may not
pass through this stage of their being like brute
beasts ; but be put into a capacity of moral improve-
ments, how low soever they must remain as to others,
and so into a capacity of qualifying themselves for an
higher state of life hereafter.
All our affairs should be carried on in the fear of
God, in subserviency to his honour, and the good
of mankind. And thus navigation and commerce
should be consecrated to the service of religion, by
being made the means of propagating it in every
country with which we have any intercourse. And
the more widely we endeavour to spread its light
and influence, as the forementioned circumstances,
and others of a like kind, open and direct our way,
the more faithful shall we be judged in the discharge
of that trust ^', which is committed to us as Christians,
when our Lord shall require an account of it .
And it may be some encouragement to cheerful
perseverance in these endeavours to observe, not only
that they are our duty, but also that they seem the
means of carrying on a great scheme of Providence,
which shall certainly be accomplished. For the ever-
y Jude 3. '^ P. 223.
I.] THE PROPAGATION OF THE GOSPEL. 225
lasting go&]jel shall he lyreaclud to every nation^: and
the kingdoms of this ivorld shall become the hingdo.as
of our Lord, and of his Christ^.
However, we ought not to be discouraged in this
good work, though its future success were less clearly
foretold; and though its effect now in reforming man-
kind appeared to be as little as our adversaries pre-
tend. They indeed, and perhaps some others, seem
to require more than either experience or scripture
give ground to hope for, in the present course of
the world. But the bare establishment of Christi-
anity in any place, even the external form and pro-
fession of it, is a very important and valuable effect.
It is a serious call upon men to attend to the natural
and the revealed doctrine of religion. It is a stand-
ing publication of the gospel, and renders it a ivitness
to them: and by this means the purposes of Provi-
dence are carrying on, with regard to remote ages, as
well as to the present. Cast thy bread upon the
waters : for thou shalt find it after many days. In
the morning sou: thy seed, and in the evening withhold
not thine hand: for thou Jcnoivest not ivhefher shall
prosper, either this or that, or ivhether they both shall
be alike good^. We can look but a very little way
into the connections and consequences of things : our
duty is to sjoread the incorru])tible seed as widely as
we can, and leave it to God to give the increase^.
Yet thus much we may be almost assured of, that
the gospel, wherever it is planted, will have its
genuine effect upon some few; upon more perhaps
than are taken notice of in the hurry of the world.
There are, at least, a few persons in every country
and successive age, scattered up and down, and
^ Rev. xiv. 6. ^ Rev. xi. 15.
c Eccles. xi. I, 6. '^ 1 Cor. iii. 6.
BUTLER, SEKMONS. Q
226 A SERMON BEFORE THE SOCIETY FOR [SERM.
mixed among the rest of mankind ; who, not being
corrupted past amendment, but having within them
the principles of recovery, will be brought to a moral
and religious sense of things, by the establishment of
Christianity where they live ; and then will be influ-
enced by the peculiar doctrines of it, in proportion to
the integrity of their minds, and to the clearness,
purity, and evidence, with which it is offered them.
Of these our Lord speaks in the parable of the sower,
as understanding the word, and hearing fruit, and
bringing forth, some an hundredfold, some sixty, so^ne
thirty^ One might add, that these persons, in pro-
portion to their influence, do at present better the
state of things : better it even in the civil sense, by
giving some check to that avowed profligateness,
which is a contradiction to all order and govern-
ment ; and, if not checked, must be the subversion
of it.
These important purposes, which are certainly to
be expected from the good work before us, may serve
to shew, how little weight there is in that objection
against it, from the want of those miraculous as-
sistances, with which the first preachers of Christi-
anity proved its truth. The plain state of the case
is, that the gospel, though it be not in the same de-
gree a loitness to all, who have it made known to
them ; yet in some degree is so to all. Miracles to
the spectators of them are intuitive proofs of its
truth : but the bare preaching of it is a serious ad-
monition to all who hear it, to attend to the notices
which God has given of himself by the light of
nature ; and, if Christianity be preached with its
proper evidence, to submit to its peculiar discipline
and laws ; if not, to inquire honestly after its evi-
e Matt, xiii, 23.
I.] " THE PROPAGATION OF THE GOSPEL. 227
dence, in [Toportion to their capacities. And there are
persons of small capacities for inquiry and examina-
tion, who yet are Avrought upon by it, to deny ungod-
liness and worldly lusts, and live soberly, righteously,
and godly in this 'present ivorld ^ in expectation of
a future judgment by Jesus Christ. Nor can any
Christian, who understands his religion, object, that
these persons are Christians without evidence : for
he cannot be ignorant who has declared, that if any
man 'will do his will, he shall know of the doctrine,
ivhether it he of Gods. And, since the whole end
of Christianity is to influence the heart and actions,
w^ere an unbeliever to object in that manner, he
should be asked, whether he would think it to the
purpose to object against persons of like capacities,
that they are prudent without evidence, when, as is
often the case, they are observed to manage their
worldly affairs with discretion.
The design before us being therefore in general
unexceptionably good, it w^ere much to be wished,
that serious men of all denominations w^ould join in
it. And let me add, that the foregoing view of
things affords distinct reasons why they should.
For, first, by so doing, they assist in a work of the
most usefid importance, that of spreading over the
world the scripture itself, as a divine revelation : and
it cannot be spread under this character, for a con-
tinuance, in any country, unless Christian churches
be supported there ; but will always more or less, so
long as such churches subsist : and therefore their sub-
sistence ought to be provided for. In the next place,
they should remember, that if Christianity is to be
propagated at all, which they acknowledge it should,
it must be in some particular form of profession.
f Titus ii. 12, 13. g John vii. 17.
Q 2
228 A SERMON BEFORE THE SOCIETY FOR [SERM.
And though they think ours Hable to objections, yet
it is possible they themselves may be mistaken : and
whether they are or no, the very nature of society
requires some compliance with others. And whilst,
together with our particular form of Christianity, the
confessed standard of Christian religion, the scrip-
ture, is spread ; and especially whilst every one is
freely allowed to study it, and worship God according
to his conscience ; the evident tendency is, that
genuine Christianity will be understood and prevail.
Upon the whole therefore, these persons would do
well to consider, how far they can with reason satisfy
themselves in neglecting what is certainly right, on
account of what is doubtful, whether it be wrong;
and when the right is of so much greater conse-
quence one way, than the supposed wrong can be the
other.
To conclude : Atheistical immorality and profane-
ness, surely, is not better in itself, nor less contrary
to the design of revelation, than su^Dcrstition. Nor
is superstition the distinguishing vice of the present
age, either at home or abroad. But if our colonies
abroad are left without a public leligion, and the
means of instruction, what can be expected, but that,
from living in a continued forgetfuhiess of God, they
will at length cease to believe in him ; and so sink
into stupid atheism 1 And there is too apparent
danger of the like horrible depravity at home, with-
out the like excuse for it. Indeed amongst creatures
natiu'ally formed for religion, yet so much under the
powers of imagination, so apt to deceive themselves,
and so liable to be deceived by others, as men are ;
superstition is an evil, which can never be out of
sight. But even against this, true religion is a great
security; and the only one. True religion takes up
I.] THE PKOPAGATIOX OF TOE GOSPEL. 229
that place in the mind, which superstition would
usurp, and so leaves little room for it ; and likewise
lays us under the strongest obligations to oppose it.
On the contrary, the danger of superstition cannot
but be increased by the prevalence of irreligion : and
by its general prevalence, the evil will be unavoid-
able. For the common people, wanting a religion,
will of coarse take up with almost any superstition,
wdiich is thrown in their way: and, in process of time,
amidst the infinite vicissitudes of the political world,
the leaders of parties will certainly be able to serve
themselves of that superstition, whatever it be, which
is getting ground ; and will not fail to carry it on to
the utmost length their occasions require. The
general nature of the thing shews this ; and history
and fact confirm it. But what brings the observa-
tion home to ourselves is, that the great superstition
of which this nation, in particular, has reason to be
afraid, is imminent ; and the ways in which we may,
very supposably, be overwhelmed by it, obvious. It
is therefore wonderful, those people who seem to
think there is but one evil in life, that of superstition,
should not see, that atheism and profaneness must be
the introduction of it. So that in every view of
things, and upon all accounts, irreligion is at present
our chief danger. Now the several religious asso-
ciations among us, in which many good men have of
late united, appear to be providentially adapted to
this present state of the world. And as all good men
are equally concerned in promoting the end of them ;
to do it more effectually, they ought to unite in
promoting it : which yet is scarce practicable upon
any new models, and quite impossible upon such
as every one would think unexceptionable. They
ought therefore to come into those already formed
230 A SERMON BEFORE THE SOCIETY FOR [SERM.
to their hands ; and even take advantage of any occa-
sion of union, to add mutual force to each other's
endeavours m furthering their common end ; how-
ever they may differ as to the best means, or anything
else subordinate to it. Indeed there are well-dis-
posed persons, who much want to be admonished,
how dangerous a thing it is, to discountenance what
is good, because it is not better; and hinder what
they approve, by raising prejudices against some
under-part of it. Nor can they assist in rectifymg
what they think capable of amendment, in the man-
ner of carrying on these designs, unless they will
join in the designs themselves; which they must
acknowledge to be good and necessary ones. For
what can be called good and necessary by Chris-
tians, if it be not so, to support Christianity where it
must otherwise sink, and propagate it where it must
otherwise be unknown ; to restrain abandoned, bare-
faced vice, by making useful examples, at least of
shame, perhaps of repentance ; and to take care of
the education of such children, as otherwise must be,
even educated in wickedness, and trained up to de-
struction ? Yet good men separately can do nothing,
proportionable to what is wanting, in any of these
ways : but their common, united endeavours may do
a great deal in all of them.
And besides the particular purposes, which these
several religious associations serve, the more general
ones, which they all serve, ought not to be passed
over. Every thing of this kind is, in some degree,
a safeguard to religion ; an obstacle, more or less,
in the way of those who want to have it extirpated
out of the world. Such societies also contribute
more especially towards keeping up the face of
Christianity among ourselves ; and by their obtain-
I.] THE PROPAGATION OF THE GOSPEL. 231
ing liere, the gospel is rendered more and more a
vntness to us.
And if it were duly attended to, and had its
genuine influence upon our minds, there would be
no need of persuasions to impart the blessing : nor
would the means of doing it be wanting. Indeed
the present income of this Society, which depends
upon voluntary contributions, with the most frugal
management of it, can in no wise sufficiently answer
the bare purposes of our charter: but the nation,
or even this opulent city itself, has it in its power
to do so very much more, that I fear the mention of
it may be thought too severe a reproof, since so
little is done. But if the gospel had its proper
influence upon the Christian world in general, as
it is the centre of trade and seat of learning, a very
few ages, in all probability, would settle Christianity
in every country, without miraculous assistances.
For scarce any thing else, I am persuaded, would
be wanting to effect this, but laying it before men
in its divine simplicity, together with an exempli-
fication of it in the lives of Christian nations. The
U7ilearned and unbelievers, falling doivn on their
faces, would ivorshij) God, and report that God is in
us of a truth ^.
^ I Cor. xiv. 24, 25,
SERMON II.
PREACHED BEFORE THE RIGHT HON. THE LORD MAYOR,
THE COURT OF ALDERMEN, THE SHERIFFS, AND THE
GOVERNORS OF THE SEVERAL HOSPITALS
OF THE CITY OF LONDON,
AT THE PARISH CHURCH OF ST. BRIDGET,
ON MONDAY IN EASTER-WEEK, 1740.
Prov, xxii. 2.
The rich and poor meet together ; the Lord is the maker of
them all.
rr^HE constitution of tilings being such, that the
-■- labour of one man, or the united labour of
several, is sufficient to procure more necessaries
than he or they stand in need of, which it may be
supposed was, in some degree, the case, even in the
first ages ; this immediately gave room for riches
to arise in the world, and for men's acquiring them
by honest means; by diligence, frugality, and pru-
dent management. Thus some would very soon
acquire greater plenty of necessmnes than they had
occasion for ; and others by contrary means, or by
cross accidents, would be in want of them : and he
who should supply their wants would have the
property in a proportionable labour of their hands ;
A SERMON PREACHED BEFORE THE LORD MAYOR. 233
which he would scarce fail to make use of, instead
of his own, or perhaps together with them, to pro-
vide future necessaries in greater plenty, niches
then were first bestowed upon the world, as they
are still continued in it, by the blessing of God
upon the industry of men, in the use of their under-
standing and strength. Riches themselves have
always this source ; though the possession of them
is conveyed to particular persons by different chan-
nels. Yet still, the hand of the diligent maketh
rich^, and, other circumstances being equal, in pro-
portion to its diligence.
But to return to the first rich man ; whom we
left in possession of dependents, and plenty of
necessaries for himself and them. A family would
not be long in this state, before conveniencies, some-
what ornamental, and for entertainment, would be
wanted, looked for, and found out. And, by de-
grees, these secondary wants, and inventions for
the supply of them, the fruits of leisure and ease,
came to employ much, of men's time and labour.
Hence a neiv sjoecies of riches came into the world,
consisting of things which it might have done well
enough without, yet thought desirable, as affording
pleasure to the imagination or the senses. And
these went on increasing, till, at length, the sujoer-
Jluities of life took in a vastly larger compass of
things than the 7iecessaries of it. Thus luxury
made its inroad, and all the numerous train of evils
its attendants ; of which poverty, as bad an one as
we may account it, is far from being the worst.
Indeed the hands of the generality must be em-
ployed : and a very few of them would now be
sufficient to provide the world with necessaries :
* Prov. X. 4.
234 A SERMON PREACHED BEFORE [SERM.
and therefore the rest of them must be employed
about what may be called supeirfluities ; which
could not be, if these superfluities were not made
use of Yet the desire of such thing-s, insensibly,
becomes immoderate, and the use of them, almost
of course, degenerates into luxury ; which, in every
age, has been the dissipation of riches, and, in
every sense, the ruin of those who were possessed
of them : and therefore cannot be too much guarded
against by all opulent cities. And as men sink into
luxury as much from fashion as direct inclination,
the richer sort together may easily restrain this
vice, in almost what degree they please : and a few
of the chief of them may contribute a great deal
towards the restraining it.
It is to be observed further concerning the pro-
gress of riches, that had they continued to consist
only in the possession of the things themselves, which
were necessary, and of the things themselves which
were, upon their own account, otherwise desirable ;
this, in several respects, must have greatly embar-
rassed trade and commerce ; and have set bounds
to the increase of riches in all hands, as well as
have confined them in the hands of a few. But, in
process of time, it was agreed to substitute some-
what more lasting and portable, which should pass
every where, in commerce, for real natural riches ;
as sounds had before, in language, been substituted
for thoughts. And this general agreement, (by
what means soever it became general,) that mo7iey
should answer all things, together with some other
improvements, gave full scope for riches to increase
in the hands of particular persons, and likewise to
circulate into more hands. Now this, tliough it was
not the first origin of covetousness, yet it gives
II.] THE LORD MAYOR, ETC. 235
greater scope, encouragement, and temptation to
covetousness than it had before. And there is
moreover the appearance, that this artificial kind
of riches, money, has begot an artificial kind of
passion for them ; both which follies well-disposed
persons must, by all means, endeavour to keep clear
of. For indeed the love of riches is the root of all
evil^ ; though riches themselves may be made in-
strumental in promoting every thing that is good.
The improvement of trade and commerce has
made another change, just hinted at, and I think
a very happy one, in the state of the world, as it
has enlarged the middle rank of people : many of
which are, in good measure, free from the vices of
the highest and the lowest part of mankind. Now
these persons must remember, that whether, in
common language, they do or do not pass under the
denomination of rich, yet they really are so, with
regard to the indigent and necessitous : and that
considering the great numbers which make up this
middle rank among us, and how much they mix
w^ith the poor, they are able to contribute very
largely to their relief, and have m all respects a
very great influence over them.
You have heard now the origin and progress of
what this great city so much abounds with, riches ;
as far as I had occasion to speak of these things.
For this brief account of them has been laid befoi-e
you for the sake of the good admonitions it afforded.
Nor will the admonitions be thought foreign to the
charities, which we are endeavouring to promote.
For these must necessarily be less, and the occa-
sions for them greater, in proportion as industry
should abate, or luxury increase. And the temper
^ I Tim. vi. lo.
236 A SERMON PREACHED BEFORE [SERM.
of covetousness is, we all know, directly contrary
to that of charity, and eats out the very heart of
it. Then, lastly, there are good sort of people who
really want to be told, that they are included in
the admonitions to be given to the rich, though
they do see others richer than themselves.
The ranks of rich and poor being thus formed,
they meet together; they continue to make up one
society. The mutual want, which they still have
of each other, still unites them inseparably. But
they r)ieet upon a foot of great inequality. For,
as Solomon expresses it in brief, and with much
force, the rich ruleth over the j)oor ^. And this
their general intercourse, with the superiority on
one hand, and dependence on the other, are in no
sort accidental, but arise necessarily from a settled
providential disposition of things, for their common
good. Here then is a real, standing relation be-
tween the rich and the poor. And the former
must take care to perform the duties belonging to
their part of it, for these chiefly the present occa-
sion leads me to speak to, from regard to Him,
who placed them in that relation to the poor, from
whence those duties arise, and who is the Maker
of them all.
What these duties are, will easily be seen, and
the obligations to them strongly enforced, by a little
further reflection upon both these ranks, and the
natural situation which they are in with respect to
each other.
The lower rank of mankind go on, for the most
part, in some tract of living, into which they got
by direction or example ; and to this their under-
standing and discourse, as well as labour, are greatly
c Prov. xxii. 7.
][.] THE LORD MAVOll, ETC. 237
confined. Their opinions of persons and things they
take upon trust. Their behaviour has very Uttle
in it original or of home-growth ; very little which
may not be traced up to the influence of others,
and less which is not capable of being changed by
such influence. Then as God has made plentiful
provision for all his creatures, the wants of all, even
of the poorest, might be supplied, so far as it is fit
they should, by a proper distribution of it. This
being the condition of the lower part of mankind,
consider now what influence, as well as power, their
superiors must, from the nature of the case, have
over them. For they can instil instruction, and
recommend it in a peculiar manner by their example,
and enforce it still further with favour and dis-
couragement of various kinds. And experience
shews, that they do direct and change the course
of the world as they please. Not only the civil
welfare, but the morals and religion of their fellow-
creatiu-es, greatly depend upon them ; much more in-
deed than they would, if the common people w^ere
not greatly wanting to their duty. All this is
evidently true of superiors in general ; superiors in
riches, authority, and understanding, taken together.
And need I say how much of this whole superiority
goes along with riches '? It is no small part of it,
w^hich arises out of riches themselves. In all govern-
ments, particularly in our own, a good share of civil
authority accompanies them. Superior natural un-
derstanding may, or may not : but wdien it does
not, yet riches afford great opportunities for im-
provement, and may command information ; wdiich
things together are equivalent to natural superiority
of understanding.
But I am sure you will not think I have been
238 A SERMON PREACHED BEFORE [SERM.
reminding you of these advantages of riclies in
order to beget in you that complacency and trust
in them, which you find the Scripture everywhere
warning you against. No : the importance of riches,
this their power and influence, affords the most
serious admonition in the world to those who are
possessed of them. For it shews, how very blamable
even their carelessness in the use of that power and
influence must be : since it must be blamable in a
degree proportionate to the importance of what they
are thus careless about.
But it is not only true, that the rich have the
power of doing a great deal of good, and must be
highly blamable for neglecting to do it : but it is
moreover true, that this power is given them by
way of trust, in order to their keeping down that
vice and misery, with which the lower people would
otherwise be quite overrun. For without instruction
and good influence they, of course, grow rude and
vicious, and reduce themselves to the utmost dis-
tresses; often to very terrible ones without deserving
much blame. And to these must be added their
unavoidable distresses, which yet admit of relief.
This their case plainly requires, that some natural
provision should be made for it : as the case of
children does, who, if left to their own ways, would
almost infallibly ruin themselves. Accordingly Pro-
vidence has made provision for this case of the poor :
not only by forming their minds peculiarly apt to
be influenced by their superiors, and giving those
superiors abilities to direct and relieve them ; but
also by putting the latter under the care and pro-
tection of the former : for this is plainly done, by
means of that intercourse of various kinds between
them which, in the natural course of things, is un-
II.] THE LOKD MAYOR, ETC. 239
avoidably necessary. In the primitive ages of the
world, the manner in which the rich and the j^oor
met together, was in families. Eich men had the
poor for their servants : not only a few for the offices
about their persons, and for the care of what we
now call domestic affairs ; but great numbers also
for the keeping of their cattle, the tillage of their
fields, for working up their wool into furniture and
vestments of necessary use as well as ornament, and
for preparing them those many things at home,
which now pass through a multitude of unknown
poor hands successively, and are by them prepared,
at a distance, for the use of the rich. The instruc-
tion of these large families, and the oversight of
their morals and religion, plainly belonged to the
heads of them. And that obvious humanity, which
everv one feels, must have induced them to be kind
to all whom they found under their roof, in sick-
ness and old age. In this state of the world, the
relation between the rich and the poor could not
but be universally seen and acknowledged. Now
indeed it is less in sight, by means of artificial
methods of carrying on business, which yet are not
blamable. But the relation still subsists, and the
obligations arising- out of it: and cannot but re-
main the same, whilst the rich have the same want
of the poor, and make the same use of them, though
not so immediately under their eye; and whilst the
instruction and manners, and good or bad state of the
poor, really depend in so great a degree upon the
rich, as all these things evidently do ; partly in their
capacity of magistrates, but very much also in their
private capacity. In short, he who has distributed
men into these different ranks, and at the same
time united them into one society, in such sort as
240 A SERMON PREACHED BEFORE [SERM.
men are united, has, by this constitution of things,
formally put the poor under the superintendency
* and j^'^^tronage of the rich. The rich then are
charged, by natural providence, as much as by re-
vealed appointment, with the care of the poor: not to
maintain them idle ; which, were it possible they
could be so maintained, would produce greater mis-
chiefs than those which charity is to prevent ; but
to take care, that they maintain themselves by their
labour, or in case they cannot, then to relieve them ;
to restrain their vices, and form their minds to vir-
tue and rehgion. This is a trust, yet it is not a
burden, but a privilege, annexed to riches. And if
every one discharged his share of the trust faith-
fully, whatever be his share of it, the world would
be quite another place from what it is. But that
cannot be, till covetousness, debauchery, and every
vice, be unknown among the rich. Then, and not
before, will the manners of the poor be, in all re-
spects, what they ought to be, and their distresses
find the full relief which they ought to find. And,
as far as things of this sort can be calculated, in
proportion to the right behaviour of persons whom
God has placed in the former of these ranks, will
be the right behaviour and good condition of those
who are cast into the latter. Every one of ability
then is to be persuaded to do somewhat towards
this, keejDing up a sense of virtue and religion among
the poor, and relieving their wants ; each as much
as he can be persuaded to. Since the generality
will not part with their vices, it were greatly to
be wished, they would bethink themselves, and do
what good they are able, so far only as is consistent
with them. A vicious rich man cannot pass through
life without duina: an incredible deal of mischief,
II.] THE LORD MAYOR, ETC. 241
were it only by his example and influence; besides
neglecting tlie most important obligations, wliich
arise from his superior fortune. Yet still, the
fewer of them he neglects, and the less mischief he
does, the less share of the vices and miseries of his
inferiors will lie at his door : the less will be his
guilt and punishment. But conscientious persons
of this rank must revolve again and again in their
minds, how OTeat the trust is, which God has annexed
to it. They must each of them consider impartially,
what is his own particular share of that trust; which
is determined by his situation, character, and fortune
together : and then set himself to be as useful as he
can in those particular ways, which he finds thus
marked out for him. This is exactly the precept
of St. Peter; As every mem hath received the gift,
even so minister the same one to another, as good
steivards of the manifold grace of God'^. And as
rich men, by a right direction of their great capacity,
may entitle themselves to a greater reward ; so by
a wrong direction of it, or even by great negligence,
they may become imrtakers of other mens sins^, and
char2;eable with other men's miseries. For if there
be at all any measures of proportion, any sort of
regularity and order in the administration of things,
it is self-evident, that tmto ivhomsoeyer much is
given, of him shall much he required : and to whojn
much is committed, of him shall more be demanded^.
But stiD it is to be remembered, that every man's
behaviour is his own concern, for every one must
give account of his own works ; and that the lower
people are very greatly to blame in yielding to any
ill influence, particularly following the ill example
of their superiors; though these are more to blame
d I Pet. iv. lo. e I Tim, v. 22. ^ Luke xii. 48.
BIITLEK, SEEMONS. R
242 A SERilOX TREACHED BEFORE [SERM.
in setting them such an example. For, as our Lord
declares, in the words immediately preceding those
just mentioned, that servant ivhich kneiv his lord's
will, and prejjared not himself, neither did accord-
ing to his will, shall he heaten ivith many stripes.
But he that hneiv not, and did commit things
tuorthy of stripes, shall he heaten with feiv stripes^.
Vice is itself of ill-desert, and therefore shall be
punished in all ; though its ill- desert is greater or
less, and so shall be its punishment, in proportion
to men's knowledge of God and religion : but it is
in the most literal sense true, that he luho knew not
his lord's will, and committed things worthy of stripes,
shall he heaten, though luith feiu strip>es. For it
being the discernment, that such and such actions
are evil, which renders them vicious in him who
does them, ignorance of other things, though it
may lessen, yet it cannot remit the punishment
of such actions in a just administration, because it
cannot destroy the guilt of them : much less can
corrupt deference and regard to the example of su-
periors in matters of plain duty and sin have this
effect. Indeed the lowest people know very well,
that such ill example affords no reason why they
should do ill ; but they hope it will be an excuse
for them, and thus deceive themselves to their ruin :
which is a forcible reason why their superiors should
not lay this snare in their way.
All this approves itself to our natural under-
standiug ; though it is by means of Christianity
chiefly, that it is thus enforced upon our con-
sciences. And Christianity, as it is more than a
dispensation of goodness, in the general notion of
goodness, even a dispensation of forgiveness, of
8 Liike xii. 47, 48.
II.] THE LOED MAYOR, ETC. 243
mercy and favour on God's part, does in a peculiar
manner heighten our obligations to charity among
ourselves. In this was manifested the love of God
towards us, — that he sent his So7i to he the jproiy'ttia-
tion for our sins. Beloved, if God so loved us, we
ought also to love one another'^. With what un-
answerable force is that question of our Lord to be
applied to every branch of this duty, Shouldest not
thou also have had compassion on thy fellow-servant,
even as I had pity on thee^ ? And can there be a
stronger inducement to endeavour the reformation
of the world, and bringing it to a sense of virtue
and religion, than the assurance given us, that he
ivhich converteth a sinner from the error of his ivay,
and, in like manner, he also who preventeth a per-
son's being corrupted, by taking care of his educa-
tion, shall save a soul from death, and hide a
multitude of sins^ f
These things lead us to the following observa-
tions on the several charities which are the occasion
of these annual solemnities :
1. What we have to bestow in charity being a
trust, we cannot discharge it faithfully, without
taking some care to satisfy ourselves in some de-
gree, that we bestow it upon the proper objects
of charity. One hears persons complaining, that it
is difficult to distinguish who are such; yet often
seeming to forget, that this ls a reason for using
their best endeavours to do it. And others make
a custom of giving to idle vagabonds : a kind of
charity, very improperly so called, which one really
wonders people can allow themselves in; merely to
be relieved from importunity, or at best to gratify
a false good-nature. For they cannot but know,
li I John iv. 9, lo, II. i Matt, xviii. 33. ^ James v. 20.
R 2
244 A SERMON PREACHED BEFORE [SERM.
tliat it is, at least, very doubtful, whether what
they thus give will not immediately be spent in
riot and debauchery. Or suppose it be not, yet
still they know, they do a great deal of certain
mischief, by encouraging this shameful trade of
begging in the streets, and all the disorders which
accompany it. But the charities towards which I
now ask your assistance, as they are always open,
so every one may contribute to them with full
assurance, that he bestows upon proper objects,
and in general that he does vastly more good,
than by equal sums given separately to particular
persons. For that these charities really have these
advantages, has been fully made out, by some who
have gone before me in the duty I am discharging,
and by the reports annually published at this time.
[Hei'e the Report annexed was read.^
Let us thank God for these charities, in behalf
of the poor; and also on our own behalf, as they
give us such clear opportunities of doing good.
Indeed without them, vice and misery, of which
there is still so much, would abound so much more
in this populous city, as to render it scarce an
habitable place.
2. Amongst the peculiar advantages of public
charities above private ones, is also to be mentioned,
that they are examples of great influence. They
serve for perpetual memorials of what I have been
observing, of the relation which subsists between
the rich and the poor, and the duties which arise
out of it. They are standing admonitions to all
within sight or hearing of them, to go and do
likewise^. Educating poor children in virtue and
religion, relieving the sick, and correcting offenders
1 Luke X. 37.
II.] THE LOUD MAYOR, ETC. 245
in order to their amendment, are, in themselves,
some of the very best of good works. These cha-
rities would indeed be the glory of your city, though
their influence were confined to it. But important
as they are in themselves, their importance still in-
creases, by their being examples to the rest of the
nation ; which, in process of time, of course copies
after the metropolis. It has indeed already imi-
tated every one of these charities ; for of late, the
most difficult and expensive of them, hospitals for
the sick and wounded, have been estabhshed ; some
within your sight, others in remote parts of the
kingdom. You will give me leave to mention par-
ticularly that"^ in its second trading city: which
is conducted with such disinterested fidelitv and
prudence, as I dare venture to compare with yours.
Again, there are particular persons very blamably
unactive and careless, vet not without good dis-
positions, who, by these charities, are reminded of
their duty, and jirovoked to love and to good luorJcs^.
And let me add, though one is sorry any should
want so slight a reason for contributing to the most
excellent designs, yet if any are supposed to do so
^ As it is of very particular benefit to those, who ought always
to be looked upou with pai-ticular favour by us, I mean our seamen ;
so likewise it is of very extensive benefit to the large tracts of country
west and north of it. Then the medicinal waters near the city ren-
der it a still more proper situation for an infirmary. And so like
wise doth its neighbourhood to the Bath hospital. For it may well
be supposed, that some poor objects will be sent thither in hopes of
relief from the Bath waters, whose case may afterwards be found to
require the assistance of physic or surgery : and on the other hand,
that some may be sent to our infirmaiy for help from those arts,
whose case may be found to require the Bath watei's. So that if
I am not greatly partial, the Bi-istol infirmary as much deseiwes
encouragement as any charitable foundation in the kingdom.
" Heb. X. 24.
246 A SERMON PREACHED BEFORE [sERM.
merely of course, because they see others do it, still
they help to support these monuments of charity,
which are a continued admonition to the rich, and
relief to the poor : and herein all good men rejoice,
as St. Paul speaks of himself in a like case, yea,
and will rejoice^.
3. As all human schemes admit of improvement,
all public charities, methinks, should be considered
as standing open to proposals for it; that the whole
plan of them, in all its parts, may be brought to as
great perfection as is possible. Now it should seem,
that employing some share of the children's time in
easy labour, suitable to their age, which is done in
some of our charity-schools, might be done in most
others of them, with very good effect; as it is in
all those of a neighbouring kingdom. Then as the
only purposes of punishments less than capital are
to reform the offenders themselves, and warn the
innocent by their example, every thing which should
contribute to make tliis kind of punishment answer
these purposes better than it does, would be a great
improvement. And whether it be not a thing prac-
ticable, and what would contribute somewhat to-
wards it, to exclude utterly all sorts of revel-mirth
from places where offenders are confined, to separate
the young from the old, and force them both, in
solitude, with labour and low diet, to make the
experiment, how far their natural strength of mind
can support them under guilt and shame and po-
verty; this may deserve consideration. Then again,
some religious instruction particularly adapted to
their condition would as properly accompany those
punishments which are intended to reform, as it
does capital ones. God forbid that I should be
o Phil. i. i8,
II.] THE LORD MAYOR, ETC. 247
understood to discourage the provision uhich is
made for it in tliis latter case : I heartily wish it
were better than it is; especially since it may well
be supposed, as the state of religion is at present
among us, that some condemned malefactors may
have never had the doctrine of the gospel enforced
upon their consciences. But since it must be ac-
knowledged of greater consequence, in a religious as
well as civil respect, how persons live, than how
they die; it cannot but be even more incumbent on
us to endeavour, in all ways, to reclaim those offen-
ders who are to return again into the world, than
those who are to be removed out of it : and the
only efPectual means of reclaiming them, is to instil
into them a principle of religion. If persons of
authority and influence would take things of this
and a like kind under their consideration, they might
perhaps still improve those charities ; which are al-
ready, I truly believe, under a better management
than any other of so large a compass in the world.
But,
4. With regard to the two particular branches
of them last mentioned, I would observe, that our
laws and whole constitution, civil and ecclesiastical,
go more upon supposition of an equality amongst
mankind, than the constitution and law^s of other
countries. Now this plainly requires that more par-
ticular regard should be had to the education of the
lower people here, than in places w4iere they are
born slaves of power, and to be made slaves of
superstition. It is, I suppose, acknowledged, that
they have greater liberty here, than they have any
where else in the world. But unless care be taken
for giving them some inward principle, to prevent
their abusing this greater liberty which is their
248 A SERMON PREACHED BEFORE [SERM.
birthright, can we expect it will prove a blessing
to them 1 or will they not in all probability become
more dissolute, or more wild and extravagant, what-
ever wrong turn they happen to take, than people
of the same rank in other countries ?
5. Let me again remind you of the additional
reason, which persons of fortune have to take par-
ticular care of their whole behaviour, that it be m
all respects good and exemplary, upon account of
the influence which it will have upon the manners
of their inferiors. And pray observe how strictly
this is connected with the occasion of our present
meeting : how much your good behaviour in private
life will contribute to promote the good design of
all these charities : and how much the contraiv
would tend to defeat it, and even to produce the
evils which they are intended to prevent or to
remedy. Whatever care be taken in the education
of these poor children at school, there is always
danger of their being corrupted, when they come
from it. And this danger is greater, in proportion
to the greater wickedness of the age they are to
pass through. But if, upon their coming abroad
into the world, they find the principles of virtue
and religion recommended by the example of their
superiors, and vice and irreligion really discounten-
anced, this will confirm them in the good principles
in which they have been brought up, and give the
best ground to hope they will never depart from
them. And the like is to be said of offenders, who
may have had a sense of virtue and religion wrought
in them, under the disci]3line of labour and confine-
ment. Again ; dissolute and debauched persons of
fortune greatly increase the general corruption of
manners : and this is what increases want and
ri.] THE LORD MAYOK, ETC. 249
misery of all kinds. So that they may contribute
largely to any or all of these charities, and yet
undo but a very small part of the mischief which
they do, by their example, as well as in other ways.
But still the mischief which they do, suj)pose by
their example, is an additional reason why they
should contribute to them ; even in justice to par-
ticular persons, in whose ruin they may have an
unknown share of guilt ; or however in justice to
society in general ; for which they will deserve com-
mendation, how blamable soever thev are for the
other. And indeed amidst the dark prospect before
us, from that profligateness of manners, and scorn
of religion, which so generally abound, this good
spirit of charity to the poor discovering itself in so
great a degree, upon these occasions, and likewise
in the late necessitous time, even amongst persons
far from being blameless in other respects ; this
cannot but afford hopes, that we are not given over
by Providence, and also that they themselves will
at length consider, and not go on contributing, by
the example of their vices, to the introduction of
that distress, w^hich they so commendably relieve
by their liberality.
To conclude : Let our charitv towards men be
exalted into piety towards God, from the serious
consideration, that we are all his creatures ; a con-
sideration which enforces that duty upon our con-
sciences, as we have anv reofard to him. This kind
of adjuration, and a most solemn one it is, one often
hears profaned by a very unworthy sort of people,
when they ask relief for God's sake. But surely
the principle itself, which contains in it every thing
great and just and good, is grievously forgotten
among us. To relieve the poor for GocVs sake, is
250 PREACHED BEFORE THE LORD MAYOR, ETC,
to do it in conformity to the order of nature, and
to his will, and his example, who is the Author
and Governor of it ; and in thankful remembrance,
that all we have is from his bounty. It is to do
it in his behalf, and as to him. For he that hath
pity upon the p>oor lendeth unto the Lord P : and our
Saviour has declared, that he will take as given to
himself, what is given in a well-chosen charity^.
Lastly, it is to do it under a sense of the account
which will be required of what is committed to
our trust, when the rich and poor, who meet here
upon terms of so great inequality, shall meet here-
after upon a level, before him who is the Maker of
them all.
P Prov. xix. 17. 1 Matt. xxv. 40.
SERMON III.
FEEACHED BEFORE THE HOUSE OF LORDS, IN THE ABBEY-
CHURCH OF WESTMINSTER.
ON FRIDAY, JANUARY 30, 1740-41,
BEING THE DAY APPOINTED TO BE OBSERVED AS THE DAY OF
THE MARTYRDOM OF KING CHARLES I.
1 Peter li. 16.
And not using your liberty for a cloak of maliciousness, hut as
the servants of God,
AN history so full of important and interesting
events as that which this day recalls annually
to our thoughts, cannot but afford them very dif-
ferent subjects for their most serious and useful
employment. But there seems none v/hich it more
naturally leads us to consider than that of hypo-
crisy, as it sets before us so many examples of it ;
or which will yield us more practical instruction,
as these examples so forcibly admonish us, not only
to be upon our guard against the pernicious effects
of this vice in others, but also to watch over our
own hearts, against every thing of the like kind in
ourselves ; for hypocrisy, in the moral and religious
252 A SEEMON PKEACllED BEFORE THE [SERM.
consideration of things, is of much larger extent
than every one may imagine.
In common language, which is formed upon the
common intercourses amongst men, hypocrisy sig-
nifies little more than their pretending what they
really do not mean, in order to delude one another.
But in scripture, which treats chiefly of our be-
haviour towards God and our own consciences, it
signifies, not only the endeavour to delude our
fellow-creatures, but likewise insincerity towards
him, and towards ourselves. And therefore, accord-
ing to the whole analogy of scripture language, to
use liberty as a cloak of maliciousness''', must be
a The hypocrisy laid to the charge of the Pharisees and Sadducees,
in Matt. xvi. at the beginning, and in Luke xii. 54, is determinately
this, that their vicious passions blinded them so as to prevent their
discerning the evidence of our Saviour's mission ; though no more
understanding was necessary to discern it, than what they had, and
made use of in common matters. Here they are called hypocrites
merely upon account of their insincerity towards God and their own
consciences, and not at all upon account of any insincerity towards
men. This last indeed is included in that general hypocrisy, which,
throughout the gospels, is represented as their distinguished charac-
ter ; but the former is as much included. For they were not men,
who, without any belief at all of religion, put on the appearance of
it only in order to deceive the world : on the contrary, they believed
their religion, and were zealous in it. But their religion, which they
believed, and were zealous in, was in its nature hypocritical : for it
was the form, not the reality ; it allowed them in immoral practices ;
and indeed was itself in some respects immoral, as they indulged
their pride and uncharitableness under the notion of zeal for it. See
Jer. ix. 6. Psalm Ixxviii. 36. Job iii. 19. and Matt. xv. 7—14, and
xxiii. 13, 16, 19, 24, 26, where hypocrite and blind are used pro-
miscuously. Again, the Scripture speaks of the deceitfubiess 0/ sin,
and its deceiving those who are guilty of it; Heb. iii. 13. Eph. iv.
22. Eom. vii. 1 1 ; of men's acting as if they could deceive and mock
God; Isa. xxix. 15. Acts v. 3. Gal. vi. 7 : of their blinding their oion
eyes ; Matt. xiii. 15. Actsxxviii. 27 : and deceiving themselves; which
III.] HOUSE OF LORDS, JAN. 30, 1740-41. 253
understood to mean, not only endeavouring to im-
pose upon others, b}' indulging wayward passions,
or carrying on indirect designs, under pretences of
it ; but also excusing and palliating such things to
ourselves ; serving ourselves of such pretences to
quiet our own minds in any thing which is wrong.
Liberty in the writings of the New Testament,
for the most part, signifies, being delivered from the
bondage of the ceremonial law ; or of sin and the
devil, which St. Paul calls the glorious liberty of the
children of God^. This last is a progressive state :
is quite a different tiling from being deceived ; i Cor. iii. i8. i John
i. 8. Galatians vi. 3. James i. 22, 26. Many more coincident pas-
sages might be mentioned : but I will add only one. In 2 Thess. ii.
it is foretold, that by means of some force, some energy of dehmon,
men should believe the lie which is there treated of : this force of
delusion is not any thing without them, but somewhat within them,
which it is expressly said they should bring upon themselves, by
not receiving the love of the truth, but having pleasure in unrighteous-
ness. Answering to all this is that very remarkable passage of our
Lord, Matt. vi. 22, 23. Luke xi. 34, 35, and that admonition repeated
fourteen times in the New Testament, He that hath ears to liear, let
him hear. And the ground of this whole manner of considering
things ; for it is not to be spoken of as only a peculiar kind of
phraseology, but is a most accurate and strictly just manner of
considering characters and moral conduct ; the ground of it, I say,
is, that when persons will not be influenced by such evidence in
religion as they act upon in the daily course of life, or when their
notions of religion (and I might add of virtue) are in any sort recon-
cilable with what is vicious, it is some faulty negligence or prejudice,
which thus deludes them ; in very different ways, perhaps, and very,
different degrees. But when any one is thus deluded through his
own fault, in whatever way or degree it is, he deludes himself. And
this is as properly hypocrisy towards himself, as deluding the world
is hypocrisy towards the world : and he who is guilty of it acts as
if he could deceive and mock God ; and therefore is an hj'pocrite
towards him, in as strict and literal a sense as the nature of the
subject will admit.
t> Rom. viii. 21.
254 A SEKMON PREACHED BEFORE THE [SERM.
and the perfection of it, whether attainable in this
world or not, consists in that 'perfect love ^, wliich
St. John speaks of; and which, as it imphes an
entire coincidence of our wills with the will of God,
must be a state of the most absolute freedom, in
the most literal and proper sense. But whatever
St. Peter distinctly meant by this word, libertij, the
text gives occasion to consider any kind of it, which
is liable to the abuse he here warns us against.
However, it appears that he meant to comprehend
that liberty, were it more or less, which they to
whom he was writing enjoyed under civil govern-
ment : for of civil government he is speaking just
before and afterwards : Submit yourselves to every
ordinance of man for the LofcVs sake : ivhether it
he to the king, as supreme; or unto governors, as
unto them that are se^it by him. For so is the will
of God, that with well-doing, of which dutiful be-
haviour towards authority is a very material in-
stance, ye may put to silence the ignorance of
foolish men^: as free, perhaps in distinction from
the servile state, of which he speaks afterwards,
a7id not using your liberty for a cloah of malicious-
ness^ , of any tiling wrong, for so the word sig-
nifies ; and therefore comprehends petulance, affec-
tation of popularity, with any other like frivolous
turn of mind, as well as the more hateful and
dangerous passions, such as malice or ambition ;
for all of which liberty may equally be used as a
cloak. The apostle adds, hut as the servants of
God: as free — hid as his servants, who requires
dutiful submission to every ordinance of man, to
magistracy; and to whom we are accountable for
our manner of using the liberty we enjoy under
c I .Tnliii iv. 1 8. <^ I Pet. ii. 13 — 15. e Yer. 16.
III.] HOUSE OF LORDS, JAX. 30, 1740-41. 255
it ; as well as for all other parts of our behaviour.
Not using your liberty as a cloah of maliciousness^
hut as the servants of God.
Here are three tilings offered to our considera-
tion :
First, A general su2:»position, that what is wrong
cannot be avowed in its proper colours, but stands
in need of some cloah to be thrown over it : secondly,
A particular one, that there is danger, some singular
danger, of liberty's being made use of for this purpose :
lastly, An admonition not to make this ill use of
our liberty, hut to use it as the servants of God.
I. Here is a general supposition, that what is wrong
cannot be avowed in its proper colours, but stands in
need of some cloak to be thrown over it. God has
constituted our natiu^e, and the nature of society, after
such a manner, that, generally speaking, men cannot
encourage or suj)port themselves in wickedness upon
the foot of there being no difference between right
and wrong, or by a direct avowal of wrong ; but by
disguising it, and endeavouring to spread over it
some colours of right. And they do this in every
capacity and every respect, in which there is a right
or a wrong. They do it, not only as social creatures
under civil government, but also as moral agents
under the government of God ; in one case to make
a proper figure in the world, and delude their fellow-
creatures ; in the other to keep peace within them-
selves and delude their own consciences. And the
delusion in both cases being voluntary, is, in scrip-
ture, called by one name, and spoken against in the
same manner : though doubtless they are much more
explicit with themselves, and more distinctly con-
scious of what they are about, in one case than in
the other.
256 A SERMON PREACHED BEFORE THE [SERM.
The fundamental laws of all governments are vir-
tuous ones, prohibiting treachery, injustice, cruelty :
and the law of reputation enforces those civil laws,
by rendering these vices everywhere infamous, and
the contrary virtues honourable and of good report.
Thus far the constitution of society is visably moral :
and hence it is, that men cannot live in it without
taking care to cover those vices when they have
them, and make some profession of the opposite
virtues, fidelity, justice, kind regard to others, when
they have them not : but especially is this necessary
in order to disguise and colour over indirect purposes,
which require the concurrence of several persons.
Now all false pretences of this kind are to be
called hypocritical, as being contrary to simplicity ;
though not always designed, properly speaking, to
beget a false belief For it is to be observed, that
they are often made without any formal intention to
have them believed, or to have it thought that there
is any reality under these pretences. Many examples
occur of verbal professions of fidelity, justice, public
regards, in cases where there could be no imagination
of their beino; believed. And wliat other account
can be given of these merely verbal professions, but
that they were thought the ]")roper language for
the public ear ; and made in business for the very
same kind of reasons as civility is kept up in con-
versation ?
Tliese false professions of virtue, which men have,
in all ages, found it necessary to make their appear-
ance with abroad, must have been originally taken
up in order to deceive in the proper sense : then they
became habitual, and often intended merely by way
of form : yet often still, to serve their original purpose
of deceiving.
in.] HOUSE OF LORDS, JAN. 30, 1740-41. 257
There is doubtless amongst mankind a great deal
of this hypocrisy towards each other : but not so
much as may sometimes be supposed. For part
which has, at first sight, this appearance, is in reality
that other hypocrisy before mentioned ; that self-
deceit, of which the scripture so remarkably takes
notice. There are indeed persons who live ivitlwut
God in the ivorld^: and some appear so hardened as
to keep no measures with themselves. But as very
ill men may have a real and strong sense of virtue
and religion, in proportion as this is the case with
any, they cannot be easy within themselves but
by deluding their consciences. And though they
should, in great measure, get over their religion,
yet this will not do. For as long as they carry
about with them any such sense of things, as makes
them condemn what is wrong in others, they could
not but condemn the same in themselves, and dislike
and be disgusted with their own character and con-
duct, if they would consider them distinctly, and in
a full light. But this sometimes they carelessly
neglect to do, and sometimes carefully avoid doing.
And as the integrity of the upright (juides him^, guides
even a man's judgment; so wickedness may distort it
to such a degree, as that he may call evil good, and
.good evil; put darkness for light, and light for dark-
ness^ ; and think wickedly, that God is such an one as
himself^. Even the better sort of men are, in some
degree, liable to disguise and palliate their failings
to themselves : but perhaps there are few men who
go on calmly in a course of very bad things, without
somewhat of the kind now described in a very high
degree. They try appearances upon themelves as
f Ei^b. ij. 12. s Prov. xi. 3.
^ Isa. V. 20, i Psalm 1. 21.
BUTLEE, SERMONS. S
258 A SERMON PREACHED BEFORE THE [sERM
L
well as upon the world, and with at least as much
success; and choose to manage so as to make their
own mmds easy with their faults, which can scarce
be without management, rather than to mend them.
But whether from men's deluding themselves, or
from their intending to delude the world, it is evident
scarce any thing wrong in public has ever been accom-
plished, or even attempted, but under false colours:
either by pretending one thing, which was right, to
be designed, when it was really another thing, which
was wrong ; or if that which was wrong was avowed,
by endeavouring to give it some appearance of right.
For tyranny, and faction so friendly to it, and which
is indeed tyranny out of power, and unjust wars, and
persecution, by which the earth has been laid waste ;
all this has all along been carried on with pretences of
truth, right, general good. So it is, men cannot find
in their heart to join in such things, without such
honest words to be the bond of the union, though
they know among themselves, that they are only
words, and often though they know, that every
bodv else knows it too.
These observations might be exemplified by nu-
merous instances in the history which led to them :
and without them it is impossible to understand in
any sort the general character of the chief actors in
it, who were engaged in the black design of sub-
verting the constitution of their country. This they
completed with the most enormous act of mere
power, in defiance of all laws of God and man, and
in express contradiction to the real design and public
votes of that assembly, whose commission, they pro-
fessed, was their only warrant for any thing they did
throughout the whole rebellion. Yet witli unheard-
of hypocrisy towards men, towards God and their
111.] HOUSE OF LORDS, JAN. 30, 1740-41. 259
own consciences — for without such a complication of
it their conduct is inexplicable — even this action,
which so little admitted of any cloak, was, we know,
contrived and carried into execution, under pretences
of authority, religion, liberty, and by profaning the
forms of justice in an arraignment and trial, like to
what is used in regular legal procedures. No age in-
deed can shew an example of hypocrisy parallel to
this. But the history of all ages and all countries
will shew, what has been really going forward over
the face of the earth, to be very different from what
has been always pretended ; and that virtue has
been every w^here professed much more than it has
been any where practised : nor could society, from the
very nature of its constitution, subsist without some
general public profession of it. Thus the face and
appearance which the world has in all times put on,
for the ease and ornament of Ufe, and in pursuit of
further ends, is the justest satire upon what has in
1 times been carrying on under it : and ill men are
destined, by the condition of their being as social
creatures, always to bear about with them, and, in
different degrees, to profess, that law of virtue, by
which they shall finally be judged and condemned.
II. As fair pretences, of one sort or other, have
thus always been made use of by mankind to colour
over indirect and wrong designs from the world, and
to paUiate and excuse them to their own minds;
liberty, in common with all other good things, is
liable to be made this use of, and is also liable to it in
a way more peculiar to itself: which was the second
thing to be considered.
In the history which this day refers us to, we find
our constitution, in Church and State, destroyed
under pretences, not only of rehgion, but of securing
S 2
260 A SERMON TREACHED BEFORE THE [SERM.
liberty, and carrying it to a greater height. The
destruction of the former was with zeal of such
a kind, as would not have been warrantable,
though it had been employed in the destruction
of heathenism. And the confusions, the persecu-
ting spirit, and incredible ftinaticism, which grew
up upon its ruins, cannot but teach sober-minded
men to reverence so mild and reasonable an estab-
lishment, now it is restored ; for the preservation of
Christianity, and keeping up a sense of it amongst
us, and for the instruction and guide of the ignorant ;
nay were it only for guarding religion from such ex-
travagances: especially as these unportant purposes
are served by it without bearing hard in the least
upon any.
And the concurrent course of things, which brought
on the ruin of our civil constitution, and what fol-
lowed upon it, are no less instructive. The opposition,
by legal and parliamentary methods, to prerogatives
unknown to the constitution, was doubtless formed
upon the justest fears in behalf of it. But new dis-
trusts arose : new causes were given for them : these
were most unreasonably aggravated. The better part
gradually gave way to the more violent : and the
better part themselves seem to have insisted upon
impracticable securities against that one danger to
liberty, of which they had too great cause to be ap-
prehensive ; and wonderfully overlooked all other
dangers to it, which yet were, and ever will be, many
and great. Thus they joined in the current measures,
till they were utterly unable to stop the mischiefs, to
which, vdth too much distrust on one side, and too
little on the other, they had contributed. Never was
a more remarkable example of the Wise Man's ob-
servation, that the beginning of strife is as when one
III.] HOUSE OF LORDS, JAN. 30, 1740-41. 2G1
IcttetJi out water^^. For tins opposition, thus begun,
surely without intent of proceeding to violence ; yet,
as it went on, like an overflowing stream in its pro-
gress, it collected all sort of impurities, and grew
more outrageous as it grew more corrupted ; till at
length it bore down every thing good before it. This
naturally brought on arbitrary power in one shape,
which was odious to eveiy body, and which conld not
be accommodated to the forms of our constitution;
and put us in the utmost danger of having it entailed
upon us under another, which might. For at the
king's return, such Avas the just indignation of the
public at what it had seen, and fear of feeling again
what it had felt, from the popular side ; such the de-
pression and compliance, not only of the more guilty,
but also of those, who with better meaning had gone
on with them ; and a great deal too far many of this
character had gone; and such the undistinguishing
distrust the people had of them all, that the chief
security of our liberties seems to have been, their
not being attempted at that time.
But though persons contributed to all this mis-
chief and danger with different degrees of guilt,
none could contribute to them with innocence, who
at all knew what they were about. Indeed the
destruction of a free constitution of government,
though men see or fancy many defects in it, and
whatever they design or pretend, ought not to be
thought of without horror. For the design is in
itself unjust, since it is rortiantic to suppose it legal :
it cannot be prosecuted without the most wicked
means ; nor accomplished but with the present ruin
of liberty, religious as w^ell as civil ; for it must be
the ruin of its present security. Whereas the restor-
k Piov. xvii. 14.
262 A SERMON PREACHED BEFORE THE [SERM.
ation of it must depend upon a thousand future
contingencies, the integrity, understanding, power
of the persons, into whose hands anarchy and con-
fusion should throw things ; and who they will be,
the history before us may surely serve to shew, no
human foresight can determine ; even though such
a terrible crisis were to happen in an age, not dis-
tinguished for the want of principle and public
spirit, and when nothing particular were to be
apprehended from abroad. It would be partiality
to say, that no constitution of government can pos-
sibly be imagined more perfect than our own. And
ingenuous youth may be warmed with the idea of
one, against which nothing can be objected. But
it is the strongest objection against attempting to
jDut in practice the most perfect theory, that it is
impracticable, or too dangerous to be attempted.
And whoever will thoroughly consider, in what
degree mankind are really influenced by reason,
and in what degree by custom, may, I think, be
convinced, that the state of human affairs does not
even admit of an equivalent for the mischief of
setting things afloat ; and the danger of parting
with those securities of liberty, which arise from
regulations of long prescription and ancient usage :
especially at a time when the directors are so very
numerous, and the obedient so few. Eeasonable
men therefore will look upon the general plan of
our constitution, transmitted down to us by our
ancestors, as sacred ; and content themselves with
calmly doing what their station requires, towards
rectifying the particular things which they think,
amiss, and supplying the particular things which
they think deficient in it, so far as is practicable
without endangering the whole.
III.] HOUSE OF LOKDS, JAN. 30, 1740-41. 263
But liberty is in many other dangers from itself,
besides those which arise from formed designs of
destroying it, under hypocritical pretences, or ro-
mantic schemes of restoring it upon a more perfect
plan. It is particularly liable to become excessive,
and to degenerate insensibly into licentiousness ; in
the same manner as liberality, for example, is apt to
degenerate into extravagance. And as men cloak
their extravagance to themselves under the notion
of liberality, and to the world under the name of
it, so licentiousness passes under the name and
notion of liberty. Now it is to be observed, that
there is, in some respects or other, a very peculiar
contrariety between those vices which consist in ex-
cess, and the virtues of which they are said to be
the excess, and the resemblance, and whose names
they affect to bear ; the excess of any thing being
always to its hurt, and tending to its destruction.
In this manner licentiousness is, in its very nature,
a present infringement upon liberty, and dangerous
to it for the future. Yet it is treated by many
persons with peculiar indulgence under this very
notion, as being an excess of liberty. And an ex-
cess of libertv it is to the licentious themselves :
but what is it to those who suffer by them, and
who do not think, that amends is at all made them
by having it left in their power to retahate safely 1
When by popular insurrections, or defamatory libels,
or in any like way, the needy and the turbulent
securely injure quiet people in their fortune or good
name, so far quiet people are no more free than if
a smgle tyrant used them thus. A particular man
may be licentious withou.t being less free : but a
community cannot ; since the licentiousness of one
wiU unavoidably break in upon the liberty of
264 A SERMON PREACHED BEFORE THE [SERM.
anotlier. Civil liberty, the liberty of a commu-
nity, is a severe and a restrained thing ; impHes
in the notion of it, authority, settled subordinations,
subjection, and obedience ; and is altogether as much
hurt by too little of this kind, as by too much of
it. And the love of liberty, when it is indeed
the love of liberty, which carries us to withstand
tyranny, will as much carry us to reverence au-
thority, and support it ; for this most obvious reason,
that one is as necessary to the very being of liberty,
as the other is destructive of it. And therefore the
love of liberty, which does not produce this effect ;
the love of liberty, which is not a real principle of
dutiful behaviour towards authority ; is as hypo-
critical, as the religion which is not productive of
a good life. Licentiousness is, in truth, such an
excess of liberty as is of the same nature with
tyranny. For what is the difference between them,
but that one is lawless power exercised under pre-
tence of authority, or by jjersons invested with it ;
the other lawless power exercised under pretence of
liberty, or without any pretence at all 1 A people
then must always be less free in proportion as
they are more licentious ; licentiousness being not
only different from liberty, but directly contrary to
it ; a direct breach upon it.
It is moreover of a growing nature ; and of
speedy growth too ; and, with the culture which
it has amongst us, needs no great length of time
to get to such an height as no legal government
will be able to restrain, or subsist under : which
is the condition the historian describes in saying,
they could neither bear their vices nor the reme-
dies of them^ I said legal government : for, in
1 Nee vitia nostra, iiec remedia pati possuuius. Li v. lib. i. c. i.
111.] HOUSE OF i.oiJDS, JAN. 30, 1740-41. 265
the present state of the world, there is no danger
of our becoming savages. Had. licentiousness fin-
ished its work, and destroyed our constitution,
power would not be wanting, from one quarter or
another, sufficient to subdue us, and keep us in
subjection. But government, as distinguished from
mere power, free government, necessarily implies
reverence in the subjects of it, for authority, or
power regulated by laws ; and an habit of sub-
mission to the subordinations in civil life, through-
out its several ranks : nor is a peo^ole capable of
liberty without somewhat of this kind. But it
must be observed, and less surely cannot be ob-
served, this reverence and submission will at best
be very precarious, if it be not founded upon a
sense of authority being God's ordinance, and the
subordinations in life a providential appointment
of tilings. Now let it be considered — for surely
it is not duly considered — what is really the short
amount of those rejDresentations which persons of
superior rank give, and encourage to be given of
each other, and which are spread over the nation %
Is it not somewhat, in itself, and in its circum-
stances, beyond any thing in any other age or
country of the world % And what effect must the
continuance of this extravagant licentiousness in
them, not to mention other kinds of it, have ujDon
the people in those respects just mentioned % Must
it not necessarily tend to wear out of their minds
all reverence for authority, and respect for supe-
riors of every sort ; and, joined with the irreligious
principles we find so industriously propagated, to
introduce a total profligateness amongst them ; since,
let them be as bad as they will, it is scarce possible
they can be so bad as they are instructed they may
266 A SEEMON PEEACHED BEFOEE THE [SEEM.
be, or worse tban they are told their superiors are 1
And is there no danarer that all this — to mention
only one snpposable course of it — may raise some-
what like that levelling spirit, upon atheistical
principles, which, in the last age, prevailed upon
enthusiastic ones 1 not to speak of the possibility,
that different sorts of people may unite in it upon
these contrary principles. And may not this spirit,
together with a concurrence of iU humoiurs, and of
persons who hope to find their account in con-
fusion, soon prevail to such a degree, as will require
more of the good old principles of loyalty and of
religion to withstand it, than appear to be left
amongst us ?
What legal remedies can be provided against
these mischiefs, or whether any at all, are considera-
tions the farthest from my thoughts. No govern-
ment can be free, which is not administered by
general stated laws : and these cannot comprehend
every case, which wants to be provided against :
nor can new ones be made for every particular
case, as it arises : and more particular laws, as well
as more general ones, admit of infinite evasions :
and legal government forbids any but legal methods
of redress ; which cannot but be liable to the same
sort of imperfections : besides the additional one
of delay ; and whilst redress is delayed, however
unavoidably, wrong subsists. Then there are very
bad things, which human authority can scarce pro-
vide against at all, but by methods dangerous to
liberty ; nor fully, but by such as would be fatal
to it. These things shew, that liberty, in the very
nature of it, absolutely requires, and even supposes,
that people be able to govern themselves in those
respects in which they are free ; otherwise their
in.] HOUSE OF LORDS, JAN. 30, 1740-41. 267
•
wickedness will be in proportion to their liberty,
and this greatest of blessings will become a curse.
III. These things shew likewise, that there is
but one adequate remedy to the forementioned
evils, even that which the apostle prescribes in
the last words of the text, to consider ourselves
as the servwits of God, who enjoins dutiful sub-
mission to civil authority, as liis ordinance ; and to
whom we are accountable for the use we make of
the liberty which we enjoy under it. Since men
cannot live out of society, nor in it without govern-
ment, government is plainly a divine appointment ;
and consequently submission to it, a most evident
duty of the law of nature. And we all know in
how forcible a manner it is put upon our consciences
in scripture. Nor can this obligation be denied
formally upon any principles, but such as subvert
all other obligations. Yet many amongst us seem
not to consider it as any obligation at all. This
doubtless is, in a great measure, owing to disso-
luteness and corruption of manners : but I think
it is partly owing to their having reduced it to
notliing in theory. Whereas this obligation ought
to be put upon the same foot with all other general
ones, which are not absolute and without exception :
and our submission is due in all cases but those,
which we really discern to be exceptions to the
general rule. And they who are perpetually dis-
playing the exceptions, though they do not indeed
contradict the meaning of any particular texts of
scripture, which surely intended to make no altera-
tion in men's civil rights ; yet they go against the
general tenor of scripture. For the scripture,
throughout the whole of it, commands submission;
supposing men apt enough of themselves to make
268 A SERMON PREACHED BEFORE THE [SEEM.
the exceptions, and not to need being continually
reminded of them. Now if we are really under
any obligations of duty at all to magistrates, honour
and respect, in our behaviour towards them, must
doubtless be their due. And they who refuse to
pay them this small and easy regard, who despise
donmiion, and speak evil of dignities^^, should
seriously ask themselves, what restrains them from
any other instance whatever of undutifulness '? And
if it be principle, why not fiom this 1 Indeed free
government supposes, that the conduct of affairs
may be inquired into, and sjwken of mth freedom.
Yet surely this should be done with decency, for
the sake of liberty itself; for its honour and its
security. But be it done as it will, it is a very
different thing from libelling, and endeavouring to
vilify the persons of such as are in authority. It
will be hard to find an instance, in which a serious
man could calmly satisfy himself in doing this. It
is in no case necessary, and in every case of very
pernicious tendency. But the immorality of it in-
creases in proportion to the integrity and superior
rank of the persons thus treated. It is therefore
in the highest degree immoral, when it extends to
the supreme authority in the person of a prince,
from whom our liberties are in no imaginable
danger, whatever they may be from ourselves ;
and whose mild and strictly legal government
could uot but make any virtuous people happy.
A free government, which tlie good providence
of God has preserved to us tlirough innumerable
dangers, is an invaluable blessing. And our ingrati-
tude to him in abusing of it must be great in pro-
portion to the greatness of the blessing, and the
11 Jude vcr. 8.
in.] HOUSE OF LORDS, JAN. 30, 1740-41. 269
providential deliverances by which it has been pre-
served to us. Yet the crime of abusing this blessing
receives further aggravation from hence, that such
abuse always is to the reproach, and tends to the
ruin of it. Tlie abuse of Hberty has directly over-
turned many free governments, as well as our own,
on the popular side ; and has, in various ways, con-
tributed to the ruin of many, which have been over-
turned on the side of authority. Heavy therefore
must be their guilt, who shall be found to have given
such advantages against it, as well as theirs who have
taken them.
Lastly, The consideration, that we are the servants
of God, reminds us, that we are accountable to him
for our behaviour in those respects, in which it is out
of the reach of all human authority; and is the
strongest enforcement of sincerity, as all things are
naked and open unto the eyes of him irith whom
ive have to do ^. Artificial behaviour might per-
haps avail much towards quieting our consciences,
and making our part good in the short competitions
of this world ; but what will it avail us considered as
under the government of God ? Under his govern-
ment, there is no darkness, nor shadoiv of death,
where the ivorkers of iniquity may hide themselves ^.
He has indeed instituted civil government over the
face of the earth, for the imnishment of evildoers,
and for the 'praise, the apostle does not say the
rewarding, but, for the praise of them tliat do well p.
Yet as the worst answer these ends in some measure,
the best can do it very imperfectly. Civil govern-
ment can by no means take cognizance of every work,
which is good or evil : many things are done in secret;
the authors unknown to it, and often the things
n Heb. iv. 13. o Job xxxiv. 22. p i Pet. ii. 14.
270 PREACHED BEFORE THE HOU.'-E OF LORDS.
themselves ; then it cannot so much consider actions,
under the view of their being morally good or evil,
as under the view of their being mischievous or bene-
ficial to society : nor can it in any wise execute
judgment in rewarding what is coed, as it can and
ought and does, in punishing what is evil. But God
shall bring every ivorh into judg^nent, with every
secret thing, whether it be good, or whether it he evil ^.
Q Eccles. xii. 14.
SERMON IV.
PREACHED IN THE PARISH CHURCH OF CHRIST-CHURCH,
LONDON,
ON THURSDAY, MAY 9, 1745,
BEING THE TIME OF THE YEARLY MEETING OF THE CHILDREN
EDUCATED IN THE CHARITY-SCHOOLS IN AND ABOUT THE
CITIES OF LONDON AND WESTMINSTER.
Prov. xxii. 6.
Train up a child in the way he should go : and when he in
old, he to'ill not depart from it.
UMAN creatures, from the constitution of their
nature and the circumstances in which they
are placed, cannot but acquire habits during their
childhood, by the impressions which are given them,
and their own customary actions. And long before
they arrive at mature age, these habits form a
general settled character. And the observation of
the text, that the most early habits are usually the
most lasting, is likcw^ise every one's observation.
Now whenever children are left to themselves, and
to the guides and companions which they choose, or
by hazard light upon, we find by experience, that
the first impressions they take, and course of action
they get into, are very bad ; and so consequently
272 A SERMON PREACHED [SERM,
must be their habits and character and future be-
haviour. Thus if they are not trained up in the
way they sJioidd go, they will certainly be trained
up in the way they sJiould not go ; and in all pro-
bability will persevere in it, and become miserable
themselves, and mischievous to society; which, in
event, is worse, upon account of both, than if they
had been exposed to perish in their infancy. On the
other hand, the ingenuous docility of children before
they have been deceived, their distrust of themselves,
and natural deference to grown people, whom they
find here settled in a world where they themselves
are strangers; and to whom they have recourse for
advice, as readily as for protection; which defer-
ence is still greater towards those who are placed
over them: these things give the justest grounds to
expect that they may receive such impressions, and
be influenced to such a course of beliaviour, as will
produce lasting good habits; and, together with the
dangers before mentioned, are as truly a natural de-
mand upon us to train tlie^n up in the ivay they
shouhl go, as their bodily wants are a demand to
provide them bodily nourishment. Brute creatures
are appointed to do no more than this last for their
offspring, nature forming them by instincts to the
particular manner of life appointed them ; from
which they never deviate. But this is so far from
being the case of men, that, on the contrary, con-
sidering communities collectively, every successive
generation is left, in the ordinary course of provi-
dence, to be formed by the preceding one ; and
becomes good or bad, though not without its own
merit or demerit, as this trust is discharged or vio-
lated, chiefly in the management of youth.
We ought, doubtless, to instruct and admonish
n\] AT CHRIST-CIItJRCH, LONDON. 273
grown persons; to restrain them from what is evil,
and encourage them in what is good, as we are
able : but this care of youth, abstracted from all con-
sideration of the parental affection, I say, this care
of youth, which is the general notion of education,
becomes a distinct subject, and a distinct duty, from
the particular danger of their ruin, if left to them-
selves, and the particular reason we have to expect
they will do well, if due care be taken of them.
And from hence it follows, that children have as
much right to some proper education, as to have
their lives preserved; and that when this is not given
them by their parents, the care of it devolves upon all
persons, it becomes the duty of all, who are capable
of contributing to it, and whose help is wanted.
These trite, but most important things, implied
indeed in the text, being thus premised as briefly as
I coidd express them, I proceed to consider distinctly
the general manner in which the duty of education is
there laid before us : which will further shew its
extent, and further obviate the idle objections which
have been made against it. And all this together
will naturally lead us to consider the occasion and
necessity of schools for the education of poor chil-
dren, and in what light the objections against them
are to be regaided.
Solomon might probably intend the text for a par-
ticular admonition to educate children in a manner
suitable to their respective ranks and future employ-
ments: but certainly he intended it for a general
admonition to educate them in virtue and religion,
and good conduct of themselves in their temporal
concerns. And all this together, in which they are
to be educated, he calls the ivay they should go, i. e.
he mentions it not as a matter of speculation, but of
BUTLER, SERMONS. T
274 A SERMON PREACHED [SERM.
practice. And conformaLly to this description of
the things in which children are to be educated, he
describes education itself: for he calls it training
them up; which is a very different thing from merely
teaching them some truths, necessary to be known or
believed. It is endeavouring- to form such truths
into practical principles in the mind, so as render
them of habitual good influence upon the temper and
actions, in all the various occurrences of life. And
this is not done by bare instruction ; but by that,
together with admonishing them frequently as occa-
sion offers; restraining them from what is evil, and
exercising them in what is good. Thus the precept
of the apostle concerning this matter is, to bring up
children in the nurture and admonition of the Lord^;
as it were by way of distinction from acquainting
them merely with the piinciples of Christianity, as you
would with any common theory. Though education
were nothing more than informing children of some
truths of importance to them, relating to religion
and common hfe, yet there would be great reason
for it, notwithstanding the frivolous objections con-
cerning the danger of giving them prejudices. But
when we consider that such information itself is
really the least part of it; and that it consists in
endeavouring to put them into right dispositions of
mind, and right habits of living, in every relation
and every capacity; this consideration shews such
objections to be quite absurd: since it shews them to
be objections against doing a thing of the utmost
importance at the natui'al opportunity of our doing-
it, childliood and youth; and which is indeed, pro-
perly speaking, our only one. For when they are
growii up to maturity, they are out of our hands,
» Eph. vi. 4.
IV.] AT CHRIST-CHURCH, LONDON. 275
and must be left to themselves. The natural au-
thority on one side ceases, and the deference on the
other. God forbid, that it should be impossible for
men to recollect tliemselves, and reform at an ad-
vanced age: but it is in no sort in the power of
others to gain upon them ; to turn them away from
Avhat is wrong, and enforce upon them what is right,
at that season of their lives, in the manner we midit
have done in their childhood.
Doubtless religion requires instruction, for it is
founded in knowledge and belief of some truths. And
so is common prudence in the management of our
temporal affairs. Yet neither of them consists in the
knowledge or belief of these fundamental truths ; but
in our being brought by such knowledge or belief to a
correspondent temper and behaviour. Religion, as it
stood under the Old Testament, is perpetually styled
the fear of God : under the New, faith m Christ. But
as that fear of God does not signify literally being
afraid of him, but having a good heart, and leading
a good life, in consequence of such fear; so this faith
in Christ does not signify literally believing in him in
the sense that word is used in common language, but
becoming his real disciples in consequence of such
belief.
Our religion being then thus practical, consisting
in a frame of mind and course of behaviour, suitable
to the dispensatioji we are under, and which will
bring us to our final good ; children ought, by educa-
tion, to be habituated to this course of behaviour, and
formed into this frame of mind. And it must ever
be remembered, that if no care be taken to do it,
they will grow up in a direct contrary behaviour,
and be hardened in direct contrary habits. They
will more and more corrujDt themselves, and spoil
T a
276 A SERMON PREACHED [SERM.
their proper nature. They will alienate themselves
further from God ; and not only neglect, but trample
under foot, the means wliich he in his infinite mercy
has appointed for our recovery. And upon the
whole, the same reasons, which shew, that they
ouofht to be mstructed and exercised in what will
render them useful to society, secure them from the
present evils they are in danger of incurring, and
procure them that satisfaction which lies within the
reach of human prudence; shew likewise, that they
ought to be instructed and exercised in what is suit-
able to the highest relations in which we stand, and
the most important capacity in which we can be
considered; in that temper of mind and course of
behaviour, which will secure them from their chief
evil, and bring them to their chief good. Besides
that religion is the prmcipal security of men's acting
a right part in society, and even in respect to their
own temporal happiness, all things duly considered.
It is true indeed, cliildren may be taught super-
stition, under the notion of religion; and it is true
also, that, under the notion of prudence, they may
be educated in great mistakes as to the nature
of real interest and good, respecting the present
world. But this is no more a reason for not educa-
ting them according to the best of our judgment,
than our knowing how very liable we all are to err
in other cases is a reason why we should not, in
those other cases, act according to the best of our
judgment.
It being then of the greatest importance, that
children should be thus educated, the providing
schools to give this education to such of them as
would not otherwise have it, has the appearance, at
least at first sight, of deserving a place amongst the
lY.] AT GHRIST-CHURCII, LONDON. 277
very best of good works. One would be backward,
methinks, in entertaining prejudices against it ; and
very forward, if one liad any, to lay them aside,
ujDon being shewn that they were groundless. Let
us consider the whole state of the case. For though
this will lead us some little compass, yet I choose to do
it ; and the rather, because there are people who speak
of charity-schools as a new-invented scheme, and
therefore to be looked upon with I know not what
suspicion. Whereas it will appear, that the scheme
of charity-schools, even the part of it which is most
looked upon in this light, teaching the children
letters and accounts, is no otherwise new, tlian as
the occasion for it is so.
Formerly not only the education of poor children,
but also their maintenance, with that of the other
poor, were left to voluntary charities. But great
changes of different sorts happening over the nation,
and charity becoming more cold, or the poor more
numerous, it was found necessary to make some legal
provision for them. This might, much more properly
than charity-schools, be called a new scheme. For,
without question, the education of poor children was
all along taken care of by voluntary charities, more
or less: but obliging us by law to maintain the
poor, was new in the reign of queen Elizabeth. Yet,
because a change of circumstances made it necessary,
its novelty was no reason against it. Now in that
legal provision for the maintenance of the poor, poor
children must doubtless have had a part in common
with grown people. But this could never be suffi-
cient for children, because their case always requires
more than mere maintenance; it requires that they
be educated in some proper manner. Wherever there
are poor who want to be maintained by charity, there
278 A SERMON PREACHED [SERM.
must be poor children who, besides this, want to be
educated by charitj. And whenever there began to
be need of legal provision for the maintenance of the
poor, there must immediately have been need also of
some 'particular legal provision in behalf of poor
children for their education ; this not being included
in what we call their maintenance. And many whose
parents are able to maintain them, and do so, may
yet be utterly neglected as to their education. But
possibly it might not at first be attended to, that the
case of poor children was thus a case by itself, which
required its own particular provision. Certainly it
would not appear, to the generality, so urgent an one
as the want of food and raiment. And it might be
necessary, that a burden so entirely new as that of a
poor-tax was at the time I am speaking of, should be
as light as possible. Thus the legal provision for the
poor was first settled ; without any particular con-
sideration of that additional want in the case of
children; as it still remains, with scarce any altera-
tion in this respect. In the mean time, as the poor
still increased, or charity still lessened, many poor chil-
dren were left exposed, not to perish for want of
food, but to grow up in society, and learn every thing
that is evil and nothing that is good in it; and when
they were grown up, greatly at a loss in what honest
way to provide for themselves, if they could be sup-
posed inclined to it. And larger numbers, whose case
was not so bad as this, yet were very far from having
due care taken of their education. And the evil went
on increasing, till it was grown to such a degree,
as to be quite out of the compass of separate charities
to remedy. At length some excellent persons, who
were united in a Society^ for carrying on almost
b Society for Promoting Christian Knowledge.
lY.] AT CPIRIST-CHURCH, LONDON. 279
every good work, took into consideration ilie
neglected case I have been representing; and first of
all, as I understand it, set up charity-schools; or
however promoted them, as far as their abilities and
influence could extend. Their design was not in any
sort to remove poor children out of the rank in which
they were born, but, keeping them in it, to give
them the assistance which their circumstances plainly
called for; by educating them in the principles of re-
ligion, as well as civil life ; and likewise making some
sort of provision for their maintenance : under which
last I include clothing tliem, giving them such learn-
ing, if it is to be called by that name, as may qualify
them for some common employment, and placing
them out to it, as they grow up. These two general
designs coincide in many respects, and cannot be
separated. For teaching the children to read, though
I have ranked it under the latter, equally belongs to
both : and without some advantages of the latter sort,
poor people would not send their children to our
charity-schools: nor could the poorest of all be ad-
mitted into any schools, without some charitable
provision of clothing. And care is taken, that it
be such as cannot but be a restraint upon the
children. And if this, or any part of their educa-
tion, gives them any little vanity, as has been poorly
objected, whilst they are children, it is scarce possible
but that it will ha^e even a quite contrary effect
when they are grown up, and ever after remind them
of their rank. Yet still we find it is apprehended,
that what they here learn may set them above it.
But why should people be so extremely apprehen-
sive of the danger, that poor persons will make a
perverse use of every the least advantage, even the
being able to read, whilst they do not appear at all
280 A SEEMOX PREACHED [SERM.
ajDprehensive of the like danger to themselves or
their own children, in respect of riches or power, how
much soever ; tliough the danger of perverting these
advantages is surely as great, and the perversion
itself of much greater and worse consequence ? And
by what odd reverse of things has it happened, that
such as pretend to be distinguished for the love of
liberty should be the only persons who plead for
keeping down the poor, as one may speak ; for keep-
ing them more inferior in this respect, and, which
must be the consequence, in other respects, than they
were in times past 1 For till within a century or two
all ranks were nearly upon a level as to the learning
in question. The art of printing appears to have been
providentially reserved till these latter ages, and then
providentially brought into use, as what was to
be instrumental for the future in carrying on the ap-
pointed course of things. The alterations which this
art has even already made in the face of the world
are not inconsiderable. By means of it, whetlier
immediately or remotely, the methods of carrying on
business are, in several respects, improved, knoivledge
has been increased ^\ and some sort of literature is be-
come general. And if this be a blessing, we ought
to let the poor, in their degree, share it with us.
The present state of things and course of providence
plainly leads us to do so. And if we do not, it is
certain, how little soever it be attended to, that they
will be upon a greater disadvantage, on many ac-
counts, especially in populous places, than they were
in the dark ages : for they will be more ignorant,
comparatively with the people about them, than they
were then ; and the ordinary affairs of the world are
now put in a way which requires that they should
c Dan. xii. 4.
IV.] AT CHRIST-CHURCH, LONDON. 281
have some knowledge of letters, which was not the
case then. And therefore, to bring up the poor in
their former ignorance, now this knowledge is so
much more common and wanted, would be, not to
keep them in the same, but to put them into a lower
condition of life than what thev were in formerlv.
Nor let people of rank flatter themselves, that igno-
rance will keep their inferiors more dutiful and in
greater subjection to them: for surely there must be
danger that it will have a contrary effect under a free
government such as ours, and in a dissolute age.
Indeed the principles and manners of the poor, as to
virtue and religion, will always be greatly influenced,
as they always have been, by the exam/pie of their
superiors, if that would mend the matter. And this
influence will, I suppose, be greater, if they are kept
more inferior than formerly in all knowledge and im-
provement. But unless their superiors of the present
age, superiors, I mean, of the middle, as well as
higher ranks in society, are greater examples of
public spirit, of dutiful submission to authority,
human and divine, of moderation in diversions, and
proper care of their families and domestic aflairs ;
unless, I say, superiors of the present age are greater
examples of decency, virtue, and religion, than those
of former times ; for what reason in the world is it
desirable that their example should have this greater
influence over the poor '{ On the contrary, why should
not the poor, by being taught to read, be put into a
capacity of making some improvement in moral and
religious knowledge, and confirming themselves in
those good principles, which wall be a great security
for their following the example of their superiors
if it be good, and some sort of preservative against
their following it if it be bad 1 And serious persons
282 A SERMON PEEACHED [SEEM.
will further observe very singular reasons for this
amongst us ; from the discontinuance of that religious
intercourse between pastors and people in private,
which remains in protestant churches abroad, as well
as in the church of Eome ; and from our small public
care and provision for keeping up a sense of religion
in the lower rank, except by distributing religious
books. For in this way they have been assisted;
and any well-disposed person may do much good
amongst them, and at a very trifling expense, since
the worthy Society before mentioned has so greatly
lessened the price of such books. But this pious
charity is an additional reason wdiy the poor should
be taught to read, that they may be in a capacity of
receiving the benefit of it. Vain indeed would be the
hope, that any thing in this world can be fully secured
from abuse. For as it is the general scheme of
Divine Providence to bring good out of evil ; so the
wickedness of men will, if it be possible, bring evil
out of good. But upon the whole, incapacity and
ignorance must be favourable to error and vice ; and
knowledge and improvement contribute, in due time,
to the destruction of impiety as well as superstition,
and to the general prevalence of true religion. But
some of these observations may perhaps be thought
too remote from the present occasion. It is more
obviously to the purpose of it to observe, that read-
ing, writing, and accounts, are useful, ;uid, whatever
cause it is owing to, would really now be wanted in
the very lowest stations : and that the trustees of our
charity-schools are fully convinced of the great fitness
of joining to instruction easy labour, of some sort or
other, as fast as it is practicable; which they have
already been able to do in some of them.
Then as to placing out the poor children, as
IV.] AT CHllIST-CHURCH, LONDON. 283
soon as tliey are arrived at a fit age for it ; this
must be approved by every one, as it is putting
them in a way of industry under domestic govern-
ment, at a time of life, in some respects, more
dangerous than even childhood. And it is a known
thing, that care is taken to do it in a manner
which does not set them above tlieir rank : though
it is not possible always to do it exactly as one
would wish. Yet, I hope it may be observed
without offence, if any of them happen to be of
a very weakly constitution, or of a very distin-
guished capacity, there can be no impropriety in
placing these in employments adapted to their par-
ticular cases ; though such as would be very im-
proper for the generality.
But the principal design of this charity is to
educate poor children in such a manner, as has a
tendency to make them good and useful and con-
tented, whatever their particular station be. The
care of this is greatly neglected by the poor : nor
truly is it more regarded by the rich, considering
what might be expected from them. And if it
were as practicable to provide charity-schools, which
should supply this shameful neglect in the rich, as
it is to supply the like, though more excusable,
neglect in the poor, I should think certainly, that
both ought to be done for the same reasons. And
most people, I hope, will think so too, if they
attend to the thing I am speaking of; which is
the moral and religious part of education; what
is equally necessary for all ranks, and grievously
wanting in all. Yet in this respect the poor must
be greatly upon a disadvantage, from the nature
of the case ; as will appear to any one who will
consider it.
284 A SERMON TEEACHED [SERM.
For if poor children are not sent to school, several
years of their childhood of course pass away in idle-
ness and loitering. This has a tendency to give
them perhaps a feeble listlessness, perhaps an head-
strong profligateness of mind ; certainly an indis-
position to proper application as they grow up,
and an aversion afterwards, not only to the re-
straints of religion, but to those which any particular
calling, and even the nature of society, require.
Whereas children kept to stated orders, and who
many hours of the day are in employment, are by
this means habituated both to submit to those who
are placed over them, and to govern themselves ;
and they are also by this means prepared for in-
dustry, in any way of life in which they may be
placed. And all this holds abstracted from the
consideration of their being taught to read ; with-
out which, however, it will be impracticable to
employ their time : not to repeat the unanswerable
reasons for it before mentioned. Now several poor
people cannot, others will not be at the expense of
sending their children to school. And let me add,
that such as can and are willing, yet if it be very
inconvenient to them, ought to be eased of it, and
the burden of children made as light as may be to
their poor parents.
Consider next the manner in which the children
of the poor, who have vicious parents, are brought
up, in comparison with other children whose parents
are of the same character. The children of dissolute
men of fortune may have the happiness of not seeing
much of their parents. And this, even though they
are educated at home, is often the case, by means
of a customary distance between them, which can-
not be kept amongst the poor. Nor is it impossible.
IV.] AT CHRIST-CHUKCII, LONDON. 285
that a rich man of this character, desiring to have
his children better than himself, may provide them
such an education as may make them so, without
his having any restraint or trouble in the matter.
And the education which children of better rank
must have, for their im^^rovement in the common
accomplishments belonging to it, is of course, as
yet, for the most part, attended with some sort of
religious education. But the poor, as they cannot
provide persons to educate their children ; so, from
the way in which they live together in poor fam-
ilies, a child must be an eye and ear witness of the
worst part of his parents' talk and behaviour. And
it cannot but be expected, that his own will be
formed upon it. For as example in general has
very great influence upon all persons, especially
children, the example of their parents is of autho-
rity with them, when there is nothmg to balance
it on the other side. Now take in the supposition,
that these parents are dissolute, profligate peojole;
then, over and above giving their children no sort
of good instruction, and a very bad example, there
are more crimes than one in which, it may be
feared, they will directly instruct and encourage
them ; besides letting them ramble abroad wherever
they will, by which, of course, they learn the very
same principles and manners they do at home. And
from all these things together, such poor childreu
will have their characters formed to vice, by those
whose busmess it is to restrain them from it. They
will be disciplined and trained up in it. This surely
is a case which ought to have some public provision
made for it. If it cannot have an adequate one,
yet such an one as it can : unless it be thought
so rare as not to deserve our attention. But in
286 A SERMON PREACHED [SERM.
reality, though there should be no more parents of
this character amongst the poor, in proportion, than
amongst the lich, the case which I have been putting
•will be far from being uncommon. Now notwith-
standing the danger to which the children of such
wretched parents cannot but be exposed, from what
they see at home ; yet by instilling into them the
principles of virtue and religion at school, and
placing them soon out in sober famihes, there is
ground to hope they may avoid those ill courses,
and escape that ruin, into w^hich, without this care,
they would almost certainly run, I need not add
how much greater ground there is to expect, that
those of the children who have religious parents
will do well. For such parents, besides setting
their children a good example, ^^ill likewise repeat
and enforce upon them at home the good instruc-
tions thev receive at school,
A.fter all, we find the world continues very
corrupt. And it would be miraculous indeed, if
charity-schools alone should make it otherwise ; or
if they should make even all who are brought up
in them proof against its corruptions. The truth
is, every method that can be made use of to pre-
vent or reform the bad manners of the age, will
appear to be of less effect, in proportion to the
greater occasion there is for it : as cultivation,
though the most proper that can be, will produce
less fruit, or of a worse sort, in a bad climate than
in a g-ood one. And thus the character of the
common people, with whom these children are to
live, in the ordinary intercourse of business and
company when they come out into the world,
may more or less defeat the good effects of their
education. And so likewise may the character of
IV.] AT CHKIST-CHURCH, LONDON. 287
men of rank, under whose influence thev are to
live. But whatever clanger may be apprehended
from either or b(3th of these, it can be no reason
why we should not endeavour, by the likeHest
methods we can, to better the world, or keep it
from growing worse. The good tendency of the
method before us is unquestionable. And I think
myself obliged to add, that upon a comparison of
parishes where charity-schools have been for a con-
siderable time established, with neighbouring ones,
in like situations, which have had none, the good
effects of them, as I am very credibly informed,
are most manifest. Notwithstanding; I freelv own,
that it is extremly difficult to make the necessary
comparisons in this case, and form a judgment
upon them. And a multitude of circumstances
must come in to determine, from appearances only,
concerning the positive good which is produced by
this charity, and the evil which is prevented by
it ; wdiich last is full as material as the former,
and can scarce be estimated at all. But surely
there can be no doubt whether it be useful or not,
to educate children in order, virtue, and religion.
However, suppose, which is yet far from beino-
the case, but suppose it should seem, that this un-
dertaking did not answer the expense and trouble
of it, in the civil or political way of considering
things. What is this to persons who profess to be
engaged in it, not only upon mere civil views, but
upon moral and Christian ones 1 We are to do our
endeavours to promote virtue and religion amongst
men, and leave the success to God: the designs of
his providence are answered by these endeavours,
tvhether they will hear, or whether they ivill /o7'-
hear, i. e. whatever be the success of them : and
288 A SEKMON PKEACHED [SERM.
the least success in such endeavours is a great and
valuable effect 'I
From these foregoing observations, duly consi-
dered, it will appear, that the objections, which
have been made against charitv-schools, are to be
regarded in the same light with those which are
made against any other necessary things ; for in-
stance, against providing for the sick and the aged
poor. Objections in this latter case could be con-
sidered no otherwise than merely as warnings of
some inconvenience which might accompany such
charity, and might, more or less, be guarded against,
the charity itself being still kept up ; or as pro-
posals for placing it upon some better foot. For
though, amidst the disorder and imperfection in
all human things, these objections were not obvi-
ated, they could not however possibly be under-
stood as reasons for discontinuiug such charity ;
because, thus understood, they would be reasons
for leaving necessitous people to perish. Well-
disposed persons therefore will take care, that they
be not deluded with objections against this before
us, any more than against other necessary charities ;
as though such objections were reasons for sup-
pressing them, or not contributing to their support,
unless we can procure an alteration of that to which
we object. There can be no possible reasons for
leaving poor children in that imminent danger of
ruin, in which many of these must be left, were it
not for this charity. Therefore objections against
it cannot, from the nature of the case, amount to
more than reasons for endeavouring, whether with
or without success, to put it upon a right and un-
*l See the Sermon before the Society for the Propagation of the
Gospel.
IV.] AT CHRIST-CHURCH, LONDON. 289
exceptionaLle foot, iii the particular respects ob-
jected against. And if this be the intention of the
objectors, the managers of it have shewn themselves
remarkably ready to second them : for they have
she\^Ti even a docility in receiving admonitions of
any thing thought amiss in it, and proposals for
rendering it more complete : and, under the influ-
ence of this good spirit, the management of it is
really improving; particularly in greater endeavours
to introduce manufactures into these schools; and in
more particular care to place the children out to
employments in which they are most wanted, and
may be most serviceable, and which are most suit-
able to their ranks. But if there be any thing in
the management of them, which some ^^^rticular
persons think should be altered, and others are of
a contrary opinion, these things must be referred
to the judgment of the public, and the determina-
tion of the public complied with. Such compHance
is an essential principle of all charitable associations;
for without it they could not subsist at all : and by
charitable associations, multitudes are put in mind
to do good, who otherwise would not have thought
of it ; and infinitely more good may be done, than
possibly can by the separate endeavours of the same
number of charitable persons. Now he who re-
fuses to help forward the good work before us,
because it is not conducted exactly in his own
way, breaks in upon that general principle of
union, which those who are friends to the indigent
and distressed part of our fellow-creatures will be
very cautious how they do in any case : but more
especially will they beware, how they break in
upon that necessary principle in a case of so great
importance as is the present. For the pubHc is as
BUTLEU, SERJIONS. U
290 PREACHED AT CHRIST-CHURCH, LONDON.
much interested in the eckication of poor children,
as in the preservation of their hves.
This last, I observed, is legally provided for.
The former is left amongst other works of charity,
neglected by many who care for none of these
things, and to be carried on by such only as think
it their concern to be doing good. Some of you
are able, and in a situation, to assist in it in an
eminent degree, by being trustees, and overlooldng
the management of these schools ; or in different
ways countenancing and recommending them ; as
well as by contributing to their maintenance :
others can assist only in this latter way. In what
manner and degree then it belongs to you, and to
me, and to any particular person, to help it forward,
let us all consider seriously, not for one another,
but each of us for himself.
And may the blessing of Almighty God accom-
pany this work of charity, which he has jDut
into the hearts of his servants, in behalf of
these poor children ; that being now trcmied
up in the luay they should go, ivhen they are
old they may not depart from it. May he,
of his mercy, keep them safe amidst the in-
numerable dangers of this bad world, through
which they are to pass, and preserve them
unto his heavenly kingdom.
SERMON y.
PREACHED BEFORE THE HOUSE OE LORDS, lii THE ABBEY-
CHURCH OF WESTMINSTER,
ON THURSDAY, JUNE 11, 1747,
BEING THE ANNIVERSARY OP HIS MAJESTY's HAPPY ACCESSION
TO THE THRONE.
1 Tim. ii. 1, 2.
/ exJiort, iJiat, first of all, supplications, prayers, intercessions,
and giving of tlianhs, he made for all men ; for Icings, and for
all that are in antJiority ; that toe may lead a quiet and peace-
able life, in all godliness and honesty.
TT is impossible to describe the general end which
-■- Providence has appointed us to aim at in our
passage through the present world, in more ex-
pressive words than these very plain ones of the
apostle, to lead a quiet and peaceahle life, in all
godliness and honesty : a quiet and peaceable life,
by way of distinction, surely, from eager, tumul-
tuary pursuits in our private capacity, as well as
in opposition both to our making insurrections in
the state, and to our suffering oppression from it.
To lead a quiet and feaceahle life in all godliness
and honesty, is the whole that we have any reason
to be concerned for. To this the constitution of om*
U 2,
292 A SERMON PEEACHED BEFORE THE [SERM.
nature carries us; and our external condition is
adapted to it.
Now in aid to this general appointment of Pro-
vidence, civil government has been instituted over
the world, both by the light of nature and by reve-
lation, to instruct men in the duties of fidelity,
justice, and regard to common good, and enforce
the practice of these Adrtues, without which there
could have been no peace or quiet amongst man-
kind; and to preserve, in difierent ways, a sense of
rehgion as well as virtue, and of God's authority
over us. For if we could suppose men to have
lived out of government, they must have run wild,
and all knowledge of divine things must have been
lost from among them. But by means of their
uniting under it, they have been preserved in some
tolerable security from the fraud and violence of
each other ; order, a sense of virtue, and the prac-
tice of it, has been in some measure kept up ; and
religion, more or less pure, has been all along spread
and propagated. So that I make no scruple to afSrm,
that civil government has been, in all ages, a standing
publication of the law of nature, and an enforcement
of it ; though never in its perfection, for the most
part greatly corrupted, and I suppose always so in
some dcOTee.
And considering that civil government is that
part of God's government over the world, which he
exercises by the instrumentality of men, wherein
that which is oppression, injustice, ci'uelty, as coming
from them, is, under his direction, necessary disci-
pline, and just punishment ; considering that all
2J0iver is of God", all authority is j^roperly of
divine appointment; men's very living under ma-
a Rom. xiii. i.
v.] HOUSE OF LORDS, JUNE 11, 1747. 293
gistracy might naturally have led them to the con-
templation of authority in its source and oiigin;
the one, supreme, absolute authority of Almighty
God ; by which he doeth according to his ivill in
the army of heaven, and among the inhabitants of
the earth ^ : which he now exerts, visibly and in-
visibly, by different instruments, in different forms
of admmistration, different methods of discipline
and punishment; and which he will continue to
exert hereafter, not only over mankind when this
mortal life shall be ended, but throughout his uni-
versal kingdom; till, by having rendered to all
according to their works, he shall have completely
executed that just scheme of government, which he
has already begun to execute in this world, by
their hands, whom he has appointed, for the present
punishment of evil doers, and for the praise of them
that do welP.
And though that perfection of justice cannot in
any sort take place in this world, even under the
very best governments; yet under the worst, men
have been enabled to lead much more quiet and
peaceable lives, as well as attend to and keep up
a sense of religion much more, than they could
possibly have done without any government at all.
But a free Christian government is adapted to
answer these purposes in a higher degree, in pro-
portion to its just liberty, and the purity of its
religious establishment. And as we enjoy these
advantages, civil and religious, in a very eminent
degree, under a good prince, and those he has
placed in authority over us, we are eminently
obliged to offer up supphcations and thanksgivings
in their behalf; to pay them all that duty which
l> Dan. iv. 35. ^ i Pet. ii. 14.
294 A SERMON PREACHED BEFORE THE [SERM.
these prayers imply; and to lead, as those advan-
tages enable and have a tendency to dispose us to
do, quiet and peaceahle lives in all godliness and
honesty.
Of the former of these advantages, our free con-
stitution of civil government, we seem to have a
very high value. And if we would keep clear from
abuses of it, it could not be overvalued; otherwise
than as every thing may, when considered as re-
specting this world only. We seem, I say, suffi-
ciently sensible of the value of our civil liberty.
It is our daily boast, and we are in the highest
degree jealous of it. Would to God we were
somewhat more judicious in our jealousy of it, so
as to guard against its chief enemy, one might say,
the only enemy of it, we have at present to fear;
I mean licentiousness; which has undermined so
many free governments, and without whose treacher-
ous help no free government, perhaps, ever was
undermined. This licentiousness indeed is not only
dangerous to liberty, but it is actually a present
infringement of it in many instances. — But I must
not turn this good day into a day of reproach.
Droj^ping then the encroachments which are made
upon our liberty, peace, and quiet by licentiousness,
we are certainly a freer nation than any other we
have an account of; and as free, it seems, as the
very nature of government will permit. Every
man is equally under the protection of the laws;
may have equal justice against the most rich and
powerful ; and securely enjoy all the common bless-
ings of life, with which the industry of his ances-
tors, or his own, has furnished him. In some other
countries the upper part of the world is free, but
in Great Britain the whole body of the people is
v.] HOUSE OF LORDS, JUNE 11, 1747. 295
free. For we have at length, tu the distinguished
honour of those who began, and have more particu-
larly laboured in it, emancipated our northern pro-
vinces from most of their legal remains of slavery :
for volunta7y slavery cannot be abolished, at least
not directly, by law. I take leave to speak of this
long- desired work as done ; since it wants only his
concurrence, who, as we have found by many years'
experience, considers the good of his people as his
own. And I cannot but look upon these acts of
the legislature in a further view, as instances of
regard to posterity; and declarations of its readi-
ness to put every subject upon an equal foot of
security and freedom, if any of them are not so, in
any other resjDects, which come into its \dew; and
as a precedent and example for doing it.
Liberty, which is the very genius of our civil
constitution, and runs through every branch of it,
extends its influence to the ecclesiastical part of it.
A religious establishment without a toleration of
such as think they cannot in conscience conform to
it, is itself a general tyranny ; because it claims ab-
solute authority over conscience ; and would soon
beget particular kinds of tyranny of the worst sort,
tyranny over the mind, and various superstitions;
after the way should be paved for them, as it soon
must, by ignorance. On the other hand, a consti-
tution of civil government without any religious
establishment is a chimerical project, of which there
is no example: and which, leaving the generality
without guide and instruction, must leave religion
to be sunk and forgotten amongst them ; and at
the same time give full scope to superstition, and
the gloom of enthusiasm; which last, especially,
ought surely to be diverted and checked, as far as
296 A SERMON PREACHED BEFORE THE [SERM.
it can be done without force. Now a reasonable
establishment provides instruction for the ignorant,
withdraws them, not in the way of force, but of
guidance, from running after those kinds of con-
ceits. It doubtless has a tendency likewise to keep
up a sense of real religion and real Christianity in a
nation : and is moreover necessary for the encourage-
ment of learning ; some parts of which the scripture-
revelation absolutely requires should be cultivated.
It is to be remarked further, that the value of
any particular religious establishment is not to be
estimated merely by what it is in itself, but also
by what it is in comparison with those of other na-
tions ; a comparison which will sufficiently teach
us not to expect perfection in human things. And
what is stiU more material, the value of our own
ought to be very much heightened in our esteem,
by considering what it is a security from; I mean
that great corruption of Christianity, popery, wliich
is ever hard at work to bring us again under its
yoke. Whoever will consider the popish claims, to
the disposal of the whole earth, as of divine right,
to dispense with the most sacred engagements, the
claims to supreme absolute authority in religion ;
in short, the general claims wliich the canonists ex-
press by the words j^^/e^ii^i^Je of poiver — whoever,
I say, will consider popery as it is professed at
Rome, may see, that it is manifest, open usurpa-
tion of all human and divine authoritv. But even
ft/
in those Eoman catholic countries where these mon-
strous claims are not admitted, and the civil power
does, in many respects, restrain the papal ; yet per-
secution is professed, as it is absolutely enjoined by
what is acknowledged to be their higliest authority,
a general council, so called, with the pope at the
v.] HOUSE OF LORDS, JUNE 11, 1747. 297
head of it; and is practised in all of them, I think
without exception, where it can be done safely.
Thus they go on to substitute force instead of argu-
ment; and external profession made by force instead
of reasonable conviction. And thus corruptions of
the grossest sort have been in vogue, for many gene-
rations, in many parts of Christendom ; and are so
still, even where popery obtains in its least absurd
form : and their antiquity and wide extent are in-
sisted upon as proofs of their truth ; a kind of proof,
which at best can be only presumptive, but which
loses all its little weight, in proportion as the long
and large prevalence of such corruptions have been
obtained by force.
Indeed it is said in the book of Job, that the
worship of the sun and moon luas an iniquity to he
punished by the judge^. And this, though it is not
so much as a precept, much less a general one, is,
I think, the only passage of scripture which can
with any colour be alleged in favour of persecution
of any sort : for what the Jews did, and what they
were commanded to do, under their theocracy, are
both quite out of the case. But whenever that book
was written, the scene of it is laid at a time when
idolatry was in its infancy, an acknowledged novelty,
essentially destructive of true religion, arising per-
haps from mere wantonness of imagination. In these
circumstances, this greatest of evils, which afterwards
laid waste true religion over the face of the earth,
might have been suppressed at once, without danger
of mistake or abuse. And one might go on to add,
that if those to whom the care of this belonged, in-
stead of serving themselves of prevailing supersti-
tions, had in all ages and countries opposed them in
e Job xxxl. 26, 27, 28.
298 A SERMON PREACHED BEFORE THE [SERM.
their rise ; and adhered faithfully to that primitive
religion, which was received of old, since man ivas
placed u^on earth^ ; there could not possibly have
been any such difference of opinion concerning the
Almighty Governor of the world, as could have
given any pretence for tolerating the idolatries which
overspread it. On the contrary, his universal mon-
archy must have been universally recognised, and
the general laws of it more ascertained and known,
than the municipal ones of any particular country
can be. In such a state of religion, as it could not
but have been acknowledged by all mankind, that
immorality of every sort was disloyalty to him, the
high and lofty One that inhahiteth eternity, ivhose
name is Holys ; so it could not but have been mani-
fest, that idolatry, in those determinate instances of
it, was plain rebellion against him; and therefore
might have been punished as an offence, of the
highest kind, against the Supreme Authority in
nature. But this is in no sort applicable to the
present state of religion in the world. For if the
principle of punishing idolatry were now admitted
amongst the several different parties in religion, the
weakest in every place would run a great risk of
being convicted of it ; or however heresy and schism
would soon be found crimes of the same nature, and
equally deserving punishment. Thus the spirit of
persecution would range without any stop or con-
trol, but what should arise from its want of power.
But our religious establishment disclaims all prin-
ciples of this kind, and desires not to keep persons
in its communion, or gain proselytes to it, by any
other methods than the Christian ones of argument
and conviction.
f Job XX. 4. e Isaiah Ivii. 15.
v.] HOUSE OF LORDS, JUNE 11, 1747. 299
These hints may serve to remind us of the value
we ought to set upon our constitution in Church
and State, the advantages of which are the proper
subjects of our commemoration on this day, as his
majesty has shewn himself, not in words, but in
the whole course of his reign, the guardian and
protector of both. And the blessings of his reign
are not only rendered more sensible, bu.t are really
heightened, by its securing us from that pretender
to his crown, whom we had almost forgot, tiU our
late danger renewed our apprehensions; who, we
know, is a professed enem}^ to our church ; and
grown old in resentments and maxims of govern-
ment directly contrary to our civil constitution;
nay his very claim is founded in principles destruc-
tive of it. Our deliverance and our security from
this danger, with all the other blessings of the
king's government, are so many reasons, for sup])li-
cations, prayers, intercessions, and giving of thanks,
to which we are exhorted; as well as for all other
dutiful behaviour towards it ; and should also remind
us to take care and make due improvement of those
blessings, by leading, in the enjoyment of them, quiet
and peaceable lives, in all godliness and honesty.
The Jewish church offered sacrifices even for heathen
princes to whom they were in subjection : and the
primitive Christian church, the Christian sacrifices of
supplications and prayers for the prosperity of the
emperor and the state ; though they were falsely
accused of being enemies to both, because they would
not join in their idolatries. In conformity to these
examples of the church of God in all ages, prayers
for the king and those in authority under him are
part of the daily service of our own. And for the
day of his inauguration a particular service is ap-
300 A SERMON PREACHED BEFORE THE [SERM.
pointed, which we are here assembled in the house of
God to celebrate. This is the first duty we owe to
kings, and those who are in authority under them,
that we make prayers and thanksgivings for them.
And in it is comprehended, what yet may be con-
sidered as another, paying them honour and reve-
rence. Praying for them is itself an instance and
expression of this, as it gives them a part in our
highest solemnities. It also reminds us of that
further honour and reverence which we are to pay
them, as occasions offer, throughout the whole
course of our behaviour. Fear God, honour the
king ^\ are apostolic precepts ; and despising govern-
onent, and speaking evil of dignities\ apostolic de-
scriptions of such as are reserved unto the day of
judgment to he punished^. And if these evil speeches
are so highly criminal, it cannot be a thing very
innocent to make a custom of entertaining ourselves
with them.
Further, if we are to pray, that ive may, that it
may be permitted us, to lead a quiet and peaceable
life, we ought surely to live so, when, by means of a
mild, equal government, it is permitted us ; and be
very thankful, first to God, and then to those whom
he makes the instruments of so great good to us, and
pay them all obedience and duty ; though every-
thing be not conducted according to our judgment,
nor every person in employment whom we may
think deserving of it. Indeed opposition, in a legal,
regular way, to measures which a person thinks
wrong, cannot but be allowed in a free government.
It is in itself just, and also keeps up the spirit of
liberty. But opposition, from indirect motives,
to measures which he sees to be necessary, is
1' I Pet. ii. 17. 12 Pot. ii. 10. k 2 Pet. ii. 9.
v.] HOUSE OF LORDS, JUNE 11, 1747. 301
itself immoral : it keeps up the spirit of licenti-
ousness ; is the greatest reproach of liberty, and
in many ways most dangerous to it ; and has
been a principal means of overturning free govern-
ments. It is well too if the legal siihjection to
the government we live under, which may accom-
pany such behaviour, be not the reverse of Christian
subjection ; subjection for ivratli only, and not for
conscience sake^. And one who wishes well to his
country will beware how he inflames the common
people against measures, whether right or wrong,
which they are not judges of. For no one can fore-
see how far such disaffection will extend ; but every
one sees, that it diminishes the reverence which is
certainly owing to authority. Our due regards to
these things are indeed instances of our loyalty, but
they are in reality as much instances of our patriotism
too. Happy the people who live under a prince, the
justice of whose government renders them coincident.
Lastly, As by the good providence of God we
were born under a free government, and are members
of a pure reformed chui'ch, both of which he has
wonderfully preserved through infinite dangers ; if
we do not take heed to live like Christians, nor to
govern ourselves with decency in those respects in
wliich we are free, we shall be a dishonour to both.
Both are most justly to be valued : but they
may be valued in the wrong place. It is no
more a recommendation of civil, than it is of
natural hberty^, that it must put us into a capa-
city of behavmg ill. Let us then value our civil
constitution, not because it leaves us the power of
acting as mere humour and passion carry us in those
respects in which governments less free lay men
1 Eom. xiii. 5. ™ Natural liberty as opposed to necessity, or fate.
302 PREACHED BEFORE THE HOUSE OF LORDS.
under restraints ; but for its equal laws, by which
the great are disabled from oppressing those below
them. Let us transfer, each of us, the equity of this
our civil constitution to our whole personal cha-
racter ; and be sure to be as much afraid of subjec-
tion to mere arbitrary will and pleasure in ourselves,
as to the arbitrary will of others. For the tyranny of
our own lawless passions is the nearest and most
dangerous of all tyrannies.
Then as to the other part of our constitution ; let
us value it, not because it leaves us at liberty to
have as little religion as we please, without being-
accountable to human judicatories ; but because it
affords us the means and assistances to worship God
according to his word ; because it exhibits to our
view, and enforces upon our conscience, genuine
Chiistianity, free from the superstitions with which
it is defiled in other countries. These superstitions
naturally tend to ahate its force : our profession of it
in its purity is a particular call upon us to yield
ourselves up to its full influence ; to he pure in
hearf^ ; to he holy in all manner of conversation^.
Much of the form of godliness is laid aside amongst
us : this itself should admonish us to attend more to
the power thereof p. We have discarded many bur-
densome ceremonies : let us be the more careful to
cultivate inward religion. We have thrown oif a
multitude of superstitious practices, which were
called good works : let us the more abound in all
moral virtues, these being unquestionably such.
Thus our lives will justify and recommend the
reformation ; and we shall adorn the doctrine of
God our Saviour in all things^.
" Matt. V. 8. ^> I Pet, i. 15. 1' 2 Tim. iii 5. 'i Titus ii. 10.
SERMON VI.
PREACHED BEFORE HIS GRACE CHARLES DUKE OF RICHMOND,
PRESIDENT, AND THE GOVERNORS OF THE
LONDON INFIRMARY,
FOR THE RELIEF OF SICK AND DISEASED PERSONS,
ESPECIALLY MANUFACTURERS, AND SEAMEN
IN MERCHANT-SERVICE, ETC.
AT THE PARISH CHURCH OF ST, LAWRENCE - JEWRY,
ON THURSDAY, MARCH 31, 1748.
1 Pet. iv. 8.
And above all things have fervent charity among yourselves :
for charity shall cover the multitude of sins.
A S we owe our being, and all our faculties, and
"^-^ the very opportunities of exerting them, to
Almighty God, and are plainly his and not our own,
we are admonished, even though we should have
done all those thmgs ivhich are commanded us, to say.
We are unprofitahle servants^. And with much
deeper humility must we make this acknowledg-
ment, when we consider in how many things we have
all offended b. But still the behaviour of such
creatures as men, highly criminal in some respects,
may yet in others be such as to render them the
* Luke xvii. lo. ^ James iii. 2,
304 A SERMON PREACHED BEFORE THE [SERM.
proper objects of mercy, and, our Saviour does not
decline saying, thought luorthy of it^. And, con-
formably to our natural sense of things, the scripture
is very express, that mercy, forgiveness, and, in
general, charity to our fellow-creatures, has this
efficacy in a very high degree.
Several copious and remote reasons have been
alleged, why such preeminence is given to this grace
or virtue ; some of great importance, and none of
them perhaps without its weight. But the projier
one seems to be very short and obvious, that by
fervent charity, with a course of beneficence pro-
ceeding from it, a person may make amends for the
good he has blamably omitted, and the injuries he
has done, so far, as that society would have no
demand upon him for such his misbehaviour ; nor
consequently would justice have any in behalf of
society, whatever it might have upon other accounts.
Thus by fervent charity he may even merit forgive-
ness of men : and this seems to afford a very sin-
gular reason why it may be graciously granted
him by God ; a very singular reason, the Christian
covenant of pardon always supposed, why divine
justice should permit, and divine mercy appoint,
that such his charity should be allowed to cover the
multitude of sins.
And this reason leads me to observe, what scrip-
ture and the whole nature of the thing shews, that
the charity here meant must be such hearty love to
our fellow-creatures, as produce th a settled endea-
vour to promote, according to the best of our
judgment, their real lasting good, both present and
future ; and not that easiness of temper, which with
peculiar propriety is expressed by the word goocl-
c Luke XX. 35.
VI.] GOVERNORS OF THE LONDON INFIRMARY. 305
humour, and is a sort of benevolent instinct left to
itself, without the direction of our judgment. For
this kind of good-humour is so far from making the
amends before mentioned, that, though it be agree-
able in conversation, it is often most mischievous in
every other intercourse of life ; and always puts
men out of a capacity of doing the good they might,
if they could withstand importunity, and the sight
of distress, when the case requires they should be
withstood ; many instances of which case daily
occur, both in j)ubhc and private. Nor is it to be
supposed, that we can any more promote the lasting
good of our fellow-creatures, by acting from mere
kind inclinations, without considering what are the
proper means of promoting it, than that we can
attain our own personal good, by a thoughtless pur-
suit of every tiling which pleases us. For the love
of our neighbour, as much as self-love, the social
affections, as much as the private ones, from their
veiy nature, require to be under the direction of our
judgment. Yet it is to be remembered, that it does
in no sort become such a creature as man to harden
himself against the distresses of his neighbour,
except where it is really necessary ; and that even
well-disposed persons may run into great perplex-
ities, and great mistakes too, by being over-solicitous
in distinguishing what are the most proper occasions
for their charity, or who the greatest objects of it.
And therefore, as on the one side we are obliged to
take some care not to squander that which, one may
say, belongs to the poor, as we shall do, unles we
competently satisfy ourselves beforehand, that what
we put to our account of charity will answer some
good purpose ; so on the other side, when we are
competently satisfied of this, in any particular
BUTLER, SERMOw=, X
306 A SEKMON PREACHED BEFORE THE [SERM.
instance before us, we ought by no means to neglect
such, present opportunity of doing good, under the
notion of making further enquiries : for of these
delays there will be no end.
Having thus briefly laid before you the ground of
that singular eflScacy, which the text ascribes to
charity in general ; obviated the objection against
its having this efficacy ; and distinguished the virtue
itself from its counterfeits; let us now" proceed to
observe the genuineness and excellency of the
particular charity, which we are here met together
to promote.
Medicine and every other relief, under the calam-
ity of hodily diseases and casualties, no less than
the daily necessaries of life, are natural provisions,
which God has made for our present indigent state ;
and which he has granted in common to the children
of men, whether they be poor or rich : to the rich
by inheritance, or acquisition ; and by their hands to
the disabled poor.
Nor can there be any doubt, but that public infir-
maries are the most effectual means of administering
such relief; besides that they are attended with
incidental advantages of great importance : both
which things have been fully shewn, and excellently
enforced, in the annual sermons upon this and the
like occasions.
But indeed public infirmaries are not only the
best, they are the only possible means by which the
poor, especially in this city, can be provided, in any
competent measure, with the several kinds of assis-
tance, which hodily diseases and casualties require.
Not to mention poor foreigners ; it is obvious no
other provision can be made for poor strangers out of
the country, when they are overtaken by these calam-
VI.] GOVERNORS OF THE LONDON INFIRMARY. 307
ities, as they often must be, whilst they are occa-
sionally attending their affiiirs in this centre of
business. But even the poor who are settled here
are in a manner strangers to the people amongst
whom they live ; and, were it not for this provision,
must unavoidably be neglected, in the huiTy and
concourse around them, and be left unobserved to
languish in sickness, and suffer extremely, much
more than they could in less populous places, where
every one is known to every one ; and any great
distress presently becomes the common talk ; and
where also poor families are often under the par-
ticular protection of some or other of their rich
neighbours in a very different way from what is
commonly the case here. Observations of this kind
shew, that there is a peculiar occasion, and even a
necessity, in such a city as this, for public infirma-
ries, to wliich easy admittance may be had ; and
here in ours no security is required, nor any sort of
gratification allowed ; and that they ought to be
multiplied or enlarged proportionably to the increase
of our inhabitants : for to this the increase of the
poor will always bear proportion ; though less in
ages of sobriety and diligence, and greater in ages of
profusion and debauchery.
Now though nothing, to be called ah objection in
the way of argument, can be alleged against thus
providing for poor sick people, in the properest,
indeed the only way in which they can be provided
for ; yet persons of too severe tempers can, even
upon this occasion, talk in a manner, which, contrary
surely to their intention, has a very malignant in-
fluence upon the spirit of charity — talk of the ill-
deserts of the poor, the good uses they might make
of being let to suffer more than they do, under
X 2
308 A SERMON PREACHED BEFORE THE [SERM.
distresses which they bring upon themselves, or
however might, by diligence and frugality, pro-
vide against ; and the idle uses they may make of
knowing beforehand that they shall be relieved in
case of those distresses. Indeed there is such a
thing as a prejudice against them, arising from
their very state of poverty, which ought greatly to
be guarded against ; a kind of prejudice, to which
perhaps most of us, upon some occasions, and in
some degree, may inattentively be liable, but which
pride and interest may easily work up to a settled
hatred of them ; the utter reverse of that amiable
part of the character of Job, that he ivas a father
to the poor"^. But it is undoubtedly fit, that such
of them as are good and industrious should have
the satisfaction of knowing beforehand, that they
shall be relieved under diseases and casualties : and
those, it is most ob\dous, ought to be relieved pre-
ferably to others. But these others, who are not
of that good character, might possibly have the ap-
prehension of those calamities in so great a degree,
as would be verv mischievous, and of no service, if
they thought they must be left to perish under them.
And though their idleness and extravagance are very
inexcusable, and ought by all reasonable methods to
be restrained ; and they are highly to be blamed for
not making some provision against age and sup-
posable disasters, when it is in their power ; yet it
is not to be desired, that the anxieties of avarice
should be added to the natural inconveniences of
poverty.
It is said, that our common fault towards the poor
is not harshness, but too great lenity and indulgence.
And if allowing them in debauchery, idleness, and
<l Job xxix. 1 6.
VI.] GOVERJs'OltS OF THE LOJS'DON IKFIRMAKY. 309
open beggary ; in drunkenness, profane cursing and
swearing in our streets, nay in our houses of cor-
rection ; if this be lenity, there is doubtless a great
deal too much of it. And such lenity towards the
poor is very consistent with the most cruel neglects
of them, in the extreme misery to which those vices
reduce them. Now though this last certainly is not
our general fault ; yet it cannot be said every one
is free from it. For this reason, and that nothing,
which has so much as the shadow of an objection
against our public charities, may be entirely jDassed
over, you will give me leave to consider a httle the
supposed case above mentioned, though possibly some
may think it unnecessary, that of persons reduced
to poverty and distress by their own faults.
Instances of this there certainly are. But it ought
to be very distinctly observed, that in judging which
are such, we are liable to be mistaken : and more
liable to it, in judging to what degree those are
faulty, who really are so in some degree. How-
ever, we should always look with mildness upon the
behaviour of the poor ; and be sure not to expect
more from them than can be expected, in a moderate
way of considering things. We should be forward
not only to admit and encourage the good deserts
of such as do well, but likewise as to those of them
who do not, be ever ready to make due allowances
for their bad education, or, which is the same, their
having had none ; for what may be owing to the
ill example of their superiors, as well as companions,
and for temptations of all kinds. And remember
always, that be men's vices what they will, they
have not forfeited their claim to relief under neces-
sities, till they have forfeited their lives to justice.
Our heavenly Father is kind to the unthcuil'ful
310 A SEEMON PREACHED BEFOEE THE [SEEM.
and to the evil; and sendetli his rain on the just
and on the unjust ®. And, in imitation of him, our
Saviour expressly requires, that our beneficence be
promiscuous. But we have moreover the divine
example for relieving those distresses which are
brought upon persons by their own faults ; and
this is exactly the case we are considering. Indeed
the general dispensation of Christianity is an ex-
ample of this; for its general design is to save us
from our sins, and the punishments which would
have been the just consequence of them. But the
divine example in the daily course of nature is a
more obvious and sensible one. And though the
natural miseries which are foreseen to be annexed to
a vicious course of life are providentially intended to
prevent it, in the same manner as civil penalties are
intended to prevent civil crimes ; yet those miseries,
those natural penalties admit of and receive natural
reliefs, no less than any other miseries, which could
not have been foreseen or prevented. Charitable pro-
vidence then, thus manifested in the course of nature,
which is the example of our heavenly Father, most
evidently leads us to relieve, not only such distresses
as were unavoidable, but also such as people by their
own faults have brought upon themselves. The case
is, that we cannot judge in what degree it was
intended they should suffer, by considering what, in
the natural course of things, would be the whole bad
consequences of their faults, if those consequences
were not prevented, when nature has provided means
to prevent great part of them. We cannot, for in-
stance, estimate what degree of present sufferings
God has annexed to drunkenness, by considering the
diseases which follow from this vice, as they would
e Malt. V. 45 ; Luke vi. 35.
VI.] GOVERNORS OF THE LONDON INFIRMARY. 311
be if they admitted of no reliefs or remedies ; but
by considering the remaining miseiy of those dis-
eases, after the application of such remedies as
nature has provided. For as it is certain on the
one side, that those diseases are providential correc-
tions of intemperance, it is as certain on the other,
that the remedies are providential mitigations of
those corrections ; and altogether as much provi-
dential, when administered bv the erood hand of
charity in the case of our neighbour, as when ad-
ministered by self-love in our own. Thus the pain
and danger, and other distresses of sickness and
poverty remaining, after all the charitable relief
which can be procured ; and the many uneasy cir-
cumstances which cannot but accompany that relief,
though distributed with all supposable humanity ;
these are the natural corrections of idleness and.
debauchery, supposing these vices brought on those
miseries. And very severe corrections they are :
and they ought not to be increased by withholding
that relief, or by harshness in the distribution of it.
Corrections of all kinds, even the most necessary-
ones, may easily exceed, their proper bound : and
when they do so, they become mischievous ; and
mischievous in the measure they exceed it. And
the natural corrections which we have been speaking
of would be excessive, if the natural mitigations
provided for them were not administered.
Then persons who are so scrupulously apprehen-
sive of every thing w^hich can possibly, in the most
indirect manner, encourage idleness and ^dce, (which,
by the way, any thing may accidentally do,) ought
to turn their thoughts to the moral and reUgious
tendency of infirmaries. The religious manner in
which they are carried on has itself a direct tendency
312 A SEKMON PREACHED BEFORE THE [SERM.
to bring the subject of religion into the consideration
of those whom they relieve ; and, in some degree,
to recommend it to their love and practice, as it is
productive of so much good to them, as restored
ease and health, and a capacity of resuming their
several employments. It is to virtue and religion,
they may mildly be admonished, that they are
indebted for their relief And this, amongst other
admonitions of their spiritual guide, and the quiet
and order of their house, out of the way of bad
examples, together with a regular course of devotion,
which it were greatly to be wished might be daily ;
these means, it is to be hoped, with the common
grace of God, may enforce deeply upon their con-
sciences those serious considerations, to which a state
of affliction naturally renders the mind attentive,
and that they will return, as from a religious retreat,
to their several employments in the world, with
lasting impressions of piety in their hearts. By
such united advantages, which these poor creatures
can in no sort have any other way, very remarkable
reformations have been wrought. Persons of the
strictest characters therefore would give a more satis-
factory proof, not to the world, but to their own
consciences, of their desire to suppress vice and idle-
ness, by setting themselves to cultivate the religious
part of the institution of infirmaries, which, I think,
would admit of great improvements ; than by allowing
themselves to talk in a manner which tends to dis-
countenance either the institution itself, or any
particular branch of it.
Admitting then the usefulness and necessity of
these kinds of charity, which indeed cannot be
denied ; yet every thing has its hounds. And, in
the spirit of severity before mentioned, it is imagined,
VI.] GOVEKNOES OF THE LONDON INFIRMARY. 313
that people are enough disposed, such, it seems, is
the present turn, to contribute largely to them. And
some, whether from dislike of the charities them-
selves, or from mere profligateness, think these formal
recommendations of them at church every year 7night
very well he spared.
But surely it is desirable, that a customary way
should be kept open for removing prejudices as they
may arise against these institutions ; for rectifying
any misrepresentations which may, at any time, be
made of them ; and informing the public of any
new emergencies ; as well as for repeatedly enforcing
the known obligations of charity, and the excellency
of this particular kind of it. Then sermons, you
know, amongst protestants, always of course ac-
company these more solemn appearances in the house
of God : nor will these latter be kept up without
the other. Now public devotions should ever attend
and consecrate public charities. And it would be
a sad presage of the decay of these charities, if ever
they should cease to be professedly carried on in
the fear of God, and upon the principles of religion.
It may be added, that real charitable j)ersons will
approve of these frequent exhortations to charity,
even though they should be conscious that they do
not themselves stand in need of them, upon account
of such as do. And such can possibly have no right
to complain of being too often admonished of their
duty, till they are pleased to practise it. It is true
indeed, we have the satisfaction of seeing a spirit
of beneficence prevail, in a very commendable degree,
amongst all ranks of people, and in a very dis-
tinguished manner in some persons amongst the
highest ; yet it is evident, too many of aU ranks
are very deficient in it, who are of great abihty,
314 A SERMON PREACHED BEFORE THE [SERM.
and of whom much might be expected. Though
every thing therefore were done in behalf of the poor
which is wanted, yet these persons ought repeatedly
to be told, how highly blamable they are for letting
it be done without them ; and done by persons, of
whom great numbers must have much less ability
than they.
But whoever can really think, that the necessities
of the disabled poor are sufficiently provided for
already, must be strangely prejudiced. If one were
to send you to them themselves to be better in-
formed, you would readily answer, that their de-
mands would be very extravagant ; that persons
are not to be their own judges in claims of justice,
much less in those of charity. You then, I am
speaking to the hard people above mentioned, you
are to judge what provision is to be made for the
necessitous, so far as it depends upon your contri-
butions. But ought you not to remember that you
are interested, that you are parties in the affair as
weU as they. For is not the giver as really so as
the receiver'? And as there is danger that the
receiver will err one way, is there not danger
that the giver may err the other 1 since it is not
matter of arbitrary choice, which has no rule, but
matter of real equity, to be considered as in the
presence of God, what provision shall be made for
the poor "? And therefore, though you are yoin-
selves the only judges, what you will do in their
behalf, for the case admits no other ; yet let me tell
you, you will not be impartial, you will not be
equitable judges, until you have guarded against
the influence which interest is apt to have upon
your judgment, and cultivated within you the
spirit of charity to balance it. Then you will see
VI.] GOVERXOllS OF THE LONDON INFIRMARY. 315
the various remainino- necessities which call for
relief. But that there are many such must be
evident at first sight to the most careless observer,
were it only from hence, that both this and the
other hospitals are often obliged to reject poor ob-
jects which offer, even for want of room, or wards
to contain them.
Notwithstanding many persons have need of
these admonitions, yet there is a good spirit of
beneficence, as I observed, pretty generally prevail-
ing. And I must congratulate you upon the great
success it has given to the particular good work
before us ; great, I think, beyond all example for
the time it has subsisted. Nor would it be un-
suitable to the present occasion to recount the par-
ticulars of this success. For the necessary accom-
modations which have been provided, and the
numbers who have been relieved in so short a time,
cannot but give high reputation to the London
Infirmary, And the reputation of any particular
charity, like credit in trade, is so much real ad-
vantage, without the inconveniences to which that
is sometimes liable. It will bring in contributions
for its support ; and men of character, as they shall
be wanted, to assist in the management of it ; men
of skill in the professions, men of conduct in busi-
ness, to perpetuate, improve, and bring it to per-
fection. So that you, the contributors to this
charity, and more especially those of you by whose
immediate care and economy it is in so high repute,
are encouraged to go on with your labour of love^,
not only by the present good, which you see is here
done, but likewise by the prospect of what will
probably be done, by your means, in future times,
f Heb. vi. lo.
316 A SERMON PREACHED BEFORE THE [SERM.
when this infirmary shall become, as I hope it will,
no less renowned than the city in which it is estab-
lished.
But to see how far it is from being yet com-
plete, for want of contributions, one need only look
upon the settled rules of the house for admission
of j)atients. See there the limitations which neces-
sity prescribes, as to the persons to be admitted.
Bead but that one order, though others might be
mentioned, that none ivho are judged to he in an
asthmatic, consumjptive, or dying condition be ad-
mitted on any account ivhatsoever. Harsh as these
words sound, they proceed out of the mouth of
Charity herself Charity pronounces it to be better,
that poor creatures, who might receive much ease
and relief, should be denied it, if their case does
not admit of recovery, rather than that others,
whose case does admit of it, be left to perish. But
it shocks humanity to hear such an alternative men-
tioned ; and to think, that there should be a neces-
sity, as there is at present, for such restrictions,
in one of the most beneficient and best managed
schemes in the world. May more numerous or
larger contributions, at length, open a door to such
as these ; that what renders their case in the
highest degree compassionable, their languishing
under incurable diseases, may no longer exclude
them from the house of mercy '?
But besides the persons to whom I have been
now more particularly speaking, there are others,
who do not cast about for excuses for not contri-
buting to the relief of the necessitous ; perhaps are
rather disposed to relieve them ; who yet are not
so careful as they ought to be, to put themselves
into a capacity of doing it. For we are as really
VI.] GOVERNORS OF THE LONDON INFIRMARV. 317
accountable for not doino; the sfood whicli we mio-ht
have in our power to do, if we would manage our
affairs with prudence, as we are for not doing the
good which is in our power now at present. And
hence arise the obligations of economy upon people
in the highest, as well as in the lower stations of
life, in order to enable themselves to do that good,
which, without economv, both of them must be in-
capable of; even though without it they could
answer the strict demands of justice ; which yet we
find neither of them can. A good man sheiveth
favour, and lendeth ; and, to enable himself to do
so, he ivill guide his affairs ivith discretion?^. For
want of this, many a one has reduced his family to
the necessity of asking relief from those public
charities, to which he might have left them in a
condition of largely contributing.
As economy is the duty of all persons, without
exception, frugahty and diligence are duties which
particularly belong to the middle as well as lower
lanks of men ; and more particularly still to per-
sons in trade and commerce, whatever their fortunes
be. For trade and commerce cannot otherwise be
carried on, but is plainly inconsistent wnth idle-
ness and profusion : though indeed were it only
from regard to propriety, and to avoid being ab-
surd, every one should conform his behaviour to
what his situation in life requires, without which the
order of society must be broken in upon. And con-
sidering how inherited riches and a life of leisure are
often employed, the generality of mankind have
cause to be thankful that their station exempts
them from so great temptations ; that it engages
them in a sober care of their expenses, and in a
s Psalm cxii. 5.
318 A SERMON PEE ACHED BEFORE THE [SERM.
course of application to business : especially as these
virtues, moreover, tend to give them, what is an
excellent groundwork for all others, a stayed equality
of temper and command of their passions. But when
a man is diligent and frugal, in order to have it
in his power to do good ; when he is more indus-
trious, or more sparing perhaps than his circum-
stances necessarily require, that he may have to
give to him that needeth ^^ : when he lahours in
order to support the weak i ; such care of his affairs
is itself charity, and the actual beneficence which
it enables him to practise is additional charity.
You will easily see why I insist thus upon these
things, because I would particularly recommend the
good work before us to all ranks of people in this
great city. And I think I have reason to do so,
from the consideration, that it very particularly
belongs to them to promote it. The gospel in-
deed teaches us to look upon every one in distress
as our neighbour, yet neighbourhood in the hteral
sense, and likewise several other circumstances, are
providential recommendations of such and such
charities, and excitements to them ; without which
the necessitous would suffer much more than they
do at present. For our general disposition to benefi-
cence would not be sufficiently directed, and in other
resjDects would be very inefiectual, if it were not
called forth into action by some or other of those
providential circumstances, which form particular
relations between the rich and the poor, and are of
course regarded by every one in some degree.
But though many persons among you, both in the
way of contributions, and in other ways no less
useful, have done even more than was to be ex-
li Ephes. iv. 28. i Acts xx. 35.
Yl.] GOVEKXOES OF THE LONDON INFIRMARY, 319
pected, yet I must be allowed to say, that I do
not think the relation the inhabitants of this city
bear to the persons for whom our infirmary was
principally designed, is sufficiently attended to by
the generahty ; which may be owing to its late
establishment. It is, you know, designed princi-
pally for diseased manufacturers, seamen in mer-
chant-service, and their ivives and children : and
poor manufacturers comprehend all who are em-
ployed in any labour whatever belonging to trade
and commerce. The description of these objects
shews their relation, and a very near one it is, to
you, my neighbours, the inhabitants of this city.
If any of your domestic servants were disabled by
sickness, there is none of you but would think
himself bound to do somewhat for their relief
Now these seamen and manufacturers are em-
ployed in your immediate business. They are
servants of merchants, and other principal traders;
as much your servants as if they lived under your
roof: though by their not doing so, the relation is
less in sight. And supposing they do not all de-
pend upon traders of lower rank in exactly the
same manner, yet many of them do ; and they have
all connections with you, which give them a claim
to your charity preferably to strangers. They are
indeed servants of the public ; and so are all in-
dustrious poor people as well as they. But that
does not hinder the latter from being more imme-
diately yours. And as their being servants to the
pubUc is a general recommendation of this charity
to all other persons, so their being more imme-
diately yours is, surely, a particular recommenda-
tion of it to you. Notwithstanding all this, I will
not take upon me to say, that every one of you
320 A SEBMOX PREACHED BEFOBE THE [SERM.
is blamable who does not contribate to your in-
firmaiT, for yours it is in a pecniiar sei^e; but I
vrSl say, that those of you who do are highly com-
mendable. I will say more, that you promote a
Teiy excellent work, which your particular station
is a providential call upon you to promote. And
there can t-e no stronger reasofn than this for doing
any thing, except the one reason, that it would be
criminal to omit it
These considerations, methinks, might induce
every trader of higher rank in this city to become
a subscriber to the infirmarv which is named from
it : and others of vou to contribute somewhat vearlv
to it, in the wav in which smaller contributions are
given. This would be a most proper offering out
of your increase to Him, whose blesstng maketh
riehK Let it be more or less, every man accord-
ing as he jpurposeth in his heart; not grudgingly,
or of necessity: for Crod Joveth a cheerful giver \
The large bene^cdons of some persons of ability
mav be nec-essarv in the first establishment of a
public charity, and are greatly useful afterwards in
maintaining it : but the expenses of this before us, in
the extent and degree of perfec-tion to which one would
hope it might be brought, cannot be effectually sup-
ported, any more than the expenses of civil govern-
ment, without the contribution of great numbers.
You have already the assistance of p persons of highest
rank and fortune, of which the Hst of our governors,
and the present appearance, are illustrious ex-
amples. And their assistance would be iJai from
lessening by a general contribution to it amongst
yourselves. On the contrary, the general contribu-
k ProT. X. 2 2. ^2 Cor. ix. 7.
YI.J GOVERXOKS OP THE LONDOX INFIRMAKY. 321
tioii to it amono;st voiirselves, which I have been
proposing, would give it still higher repute, and
more invite such persons to continue their assist-
ance, and accept the honour of being in its direc-
tion. For the greatest persons receive honour from
taking the direction of a good work, as they likewise
give honour to it. And by these concurrent endea-
vours, our infirmarv mio^ht at lenofth be brouoht to
answer, in some competent measure, to the occasions
of our city.
Blessed are they who employ their riches in
promoting so excellent a design. The temporal
advantages of them are far from coming up, in en-
joyment, to what they promise at a distance. But
the distinguished privilege, the prerogative of riches,
is, that they increase our power of doing good. This
is their proper use. In proportion as men nuilve
this use of them, they imitate Almighty God ; and
co-operate together with him in promoting the hap-
piness of the world ; and may expect the most
favourable judgment, which their case will admit of,
at the last day, upon the general, repeated maxim
of the gospel, that we shall then be treated ourselves
as we now treat others. They have moreover the
pray el's of all good men, those of them particidarly
whom they have befriended ; and, by such exercise
of charity, they improve within themselves the
temper of it, which is the veiy temper of heaven.
Consider next the peculiar force with which this
branch of charity, almsofivinof, is recommended to
us in these words ; He that hath pity upon the j^oor
lendeth unto the Lord^: and in these of our Saviour,
Verily I say unto you, Inasmuch as ye have done it,
relieved the sick and needy, unto one of the least of
™ Prov. xix. 17.
BUTLER, SEKMOXS. Y
322 A SERMON I'HEACHED BEFORE THE GOVERNORS.
tliese 7ny hretUren, ye have done it unto me ^^. Beware
you do not explain away these passages of scripture,
under the notion, that they have been made to serve
superstetious purposes : but ponder them fairly in your
heart; and you will feel them to be of irresistible
weight. Lastly, let us remember, in how many in-
stances we have all left undone those things which we
ought to have done, and done those things we ought
not to have done. Now whoever has a serious sense
of this will most earnestly desire to supply the good,
which he was obliged to have done, but has not, and
undo the evil which he has done, or neglected to
prevent; and when that is impracticable, to make
amends, in some other way for his offences 1 can
mean only to our fellow-creatures. To make amends,
in some way or othe:', to a particular person, against
whom we have offended, either by positive injury or
by neglect ; is an express condition of our obtaining
forgiveness of God, when it is in our power to make
it. And when it is not, surely the next best thing is
to make amends to society by fervent charity, in a
course of doing good : which riches, as I observed,
put very much witliin our power.
How unhappy a choice then do those rich men
make, who sacrifice all these high prerogatives of
their state, to the wretched purposes of dissoluteness
and vanity, or to the sordid itch of heaping up, to no
purpose at all; whilst in the mean time they stand
charged with the important trust, in which they are
thus unfaithful, and of which a strict account remains
to be given !
n Matt. XXV. 40.
CHARGE
DELIVERED TO
THE CLEEGY, etc.
T is impossible for me, my brethren, u23on our
first meetinof of this kind, to forbear lamentino-
with you the general decay of religion in this nation ;
which is now observed by every one, and has been
for some time the complamt of all serious persons.
The influence of it is more and more wearing out of
the minds of men, even of those who do not pretend
to enter into speculations upon the subject: but the
number of those who do, and who profess themselves
unbelievers, increases, and with their numbers, their
zeal. Zeal, it is natural to ask — for whaf? Why
truly for nothing, but against every thing that is
good and sacred amongst us.
Indeed, whatever efforts are made against our
rehgion, no Christian can possibly despair of it. For
he, who has all jjower in heaven and earth, has pro-
mised, that he will he ivith us to the end of the ivorld.
Nor can the present decline of it be any stumbling-
block to such as are considerate; since he himself
has so strongly expressed what is as remarkably
predicted in other passages of scriptiu:e, the great
Y 2
324 CHARGE TO THE
defection from his religion which should be in the
latter days, by that prophetic question, When the Son
of man cometh, shall he find faith upon the earth ?
How near this time is, God only knows: but this
kind of scripture signs of it is too apparent. For as
different ages have been distinguished by different
sorts of particular errors and vices, the deplorable
distinction of ours is an avowed scorn of religion
in some, and a growing disregard to it in the
generality.
As to the professed enemies of religion, I know not
how often they may come in your way; but often
enough, I fear, in the way of some at least amongst
you, to require consideration, what is the proper
behaviour towards them. One would, to be sure,
avoid great familiarities with these persons; espe-
cially if they affect to be licentious and profane in
their common talk. Yet if you fall into their com-
pany, treat them with the regards which belong to
their rank; for so we must people who are vicious
in any other respect. We should study what St.
James, with wonderful elegance and expressiveness,
calls meekness of wisdom, in our behaviour towards
all men; but more especially towards these men; not
so much as being what we owe to them, but to our-
selves and our religion; that we may adorn the
doctrine of God our Saviour, in our carriage towards
those who labour to vilify it.
For discourse with them; the caution commonly
given, not to attempt answering objections which we
have not considered, is certainly just. Nor need any
one in a particular case be ashamed frankly to ac-
knowledge his ignorance, provided it be not general.
And though it were, to talk of what he is not
acquainted with, is a dangerous method of endea-
CLEEGY OF DURHAM, 1751. 325
vouring to conceal it. But a considerate person,
however qualified he be to defend his religion, and
answer the objections he hears made against it, may
sometimes see cause to decline that office. Sceptical
and profane men are extremely apt to bring up this
subject at meetings of entertainment, and such as
are of the freer sort : innocent ones, I mean, other-
wise I should not sujipose you would be present at
them. Now religion is by far too serious a matter
to be the hackney subject upon these occasions. And
by preventing its being made so, you will better
secure the reverence which is due to it, than by
entering into its defence. Every one observes, that
men's having examples of vice often before their
eyes, familiarizes it to the mind, and has a tendency
to take off that just abhorrence of it which the in-
nocent at first felt, even though it should not alter
their judgment of vice, or make them really believe
it to be less evil or dangerous. In like manner, the
hearing religion often disputed about in light familiar ,
conversation has a tendency to lessen that sacred regard
to it, which a good man would endeavour always
to keep up, both in himself and others. But this is
not all: people are too apt inconsiderately to take for
granted, that things are really questionable, because
they hear them often disputed. This indeed is so
far from being a consequence, that we know demon-
strated truths have been disputed, and even matters
of fact, the objects of our senses. But were it a con-
sequence, were the evidence of religion no more than
doubtful, then it ought not to be concluded false any
more than true, nor denied any more than affirmed;
for suspense would be the reasonable state of mind
with regard to it. And then it ought in all reason,
considering its infinite importance, to have nearly the
326 CHARGE TO THE
same influence upon practice as if it were thoroughly
believed. For would it not be madness for a man to
forsake a safe road, and. prefer to it one in which he
acknowledges there is an even chance he should lose
his life, though there were an even chance likewise of
his getting safe through it? Yet there are people
absurd enough, to take the supposed doubtfuhiess of
religion for the same thing as a proof of its falsehood,
after they have concluded it doubtful from hearing it
often called in question. This shews how infinitely
unreasonable sceptical men are, with regard to re-
ligion, and that they really lay aside their reason
upon this subject as much as the most extravagant
enthusiasts. But further, cavilling and objecting
upon any subject is much easier than clearing up
difficulties : and this last part will always be put
upon the defenders of religion. Now a man may be
fully convinced, of the truth of a matter, and upon
the strongest reasons, and yet not be able to answer
all the difficulties which may be raised upon it.
Then again, the general evidence of religion is
complex and various. It consists of a long series
of things, one preparatory to and confirming another,
from the very beginning of the world to the present
time. And it is easy to see how impossible it must
be, in a cursory conversation, to unite all this into
one argument, and represent it as it ought ; and,
could it be done, how utterly indisposed people
would be to attend to it — I say in a cursory
conversation : whereas unconnected objections are
thrown out in a few words, and are easily appre-
hended, without more attention than is usual in
common talk. So that, notwithstanding we have
the best cause in the world, and though a man were
very capable of defending it, yet I know not why
CLEEGY OF DURHAM, 1751. 327
he should be forward to undertake it upon so great
a disadvantage, and to so little good effect, as it
must be done amidst the gaiety and carelessness
of common conversation.
But then it will be necessary to be very par-
ticularly upon your guard, that you may not seem,
by way of compliance, to join in with any levity
of discourse respecting religion. Nor would one
let any pretended argument against it pass entirely
without notice ; nor any gross ribaldry upon it,
without expressing our thorough disapprobation.
This last may sometimes be done by silence : for
silence sometimes is very expressive ; as was that
of our blessed Saviour before the Sanhedrim and
before Pilate. Or it may be done by observing
mildly, that religion deserves another sort of treat-
ment, or a more thorough consideration, than such
a time, or such circumstances admit. However, as
it is absolutely necessary, that we take care, by
diligent reading and study, to be always prepared,
to be ready cdivays to give an answer to every man
that asJceth a reason of the hofe that is in 21s; so
there may be occasions when it will highly become
us to do it. And then we must take care to do it
in the spirit which the apostle requires, ivith meek-
ness and fear ^ : ^neehiess towards those who give
occasions for enterinof into the defence of our re-
ligion \ and with fear, not of them, but of God ;
with that reverential fear, which the nature of
religion requiies, and which is so far from being
inconsistent with, that it will inspire proper courage
towards men. Now this reverential fear will lead
us to insist strongly upon the infinite greatness of
God's scheme of government, both in extent and
a I Pet. iii. 15.
328 CHAEGE TO THE
duration, together with the wise connection of its
parts, and the impossibility of accounting iiiWj for
the several parts, without seeing the whole plan
of Providence to which they relate ; which is be-
yond the utmost stretch of our understanding. And
to all this must be added the necessary deficiency
of human language, when things divine are the
subject of it. These observations are a proper full
answer to many objections, and very material witli
regard to all.
But your standing business, and which requires
constant attention, is with the body of the people ;
to revive m them the spirit of religion, which is so
much dechning. And it may seem, that whatever
reason there be for caution as to entering into an
argumentative defence of religion in common con-
versation, yet that it is necessary to do this from the
j)uljpit, in order to guard the people against being
corrupted, however in some places. But then surely
it should be done in a manner as little controversial
as possible. For though such as are capable of
seeing the force of objections are capable also of
seeing the force of the answers which are given to
them ; yet the truth is, the people will not com-
petently attend to either. But it is easy to see
which they will attend to most. And to hear re-
ligion treated of as what many deny, and which has
much said against it as well as for it ; this cannot
but have a tendency to give them ill impressions
at any time ; and seems particularly improper for aU
persons at a time of devotion ; even for such as are
arrived at the most settled state of piety : I say at
a time of devotion, when we are assembled to yield
ourselves up to the full influence of the Divine
Presence, and to call fortli into actual exercise every
CLEKGY OF DUIUIAM, 1751. 329
pious affection of heiirt. For it is to be repeated,
that the heart and course of affections may be dis-
turbed when there is no alteration of judgment.
Now the evidence of reHgion may be laid before
men without any air of controversy. The proof of
the being of God, from final causes, or the design
and wisdom which appears in every part of nature ;
together with the law of virtue written upon our
hearts : the proof of Christianity from miracles, and
the accomphshment of prophecies ; and the con-
firmation which the natui'al and civil history of the
world give to the scripture account of things : these
evidences of religion might properly be insisted on,
in a way to affect and influence the heart, though
there were no professed unbelievers in the world ;
and therefore may be insisted on, without taking
much notice that there are such. And even their
particular objections may be obviated without a
formal mention of them. Besides, as to religion in
general, it is a practical thing, and no otherwise a
matter of speculation, than common prudence in the
management of our worldly affairs is so. And if one
were endeavouring to bring a plain man to be more
careful with regard to this last, it would be thought
a strange method of doing it, to perplex him with
stating formally the several objections which men
of gaiety or speculation have made against prudence,
and the advantages which they pleasantly tell us
folly has over it ; though one could answer those
objections ever so fully.
Nor does the want of religion in the generality of
the common people appear owing to a speculative
disbelief or denial of it, but chiefly to thoughtless-
ness and the common temptations of life. Your
chief business therefore is to endeavour to beget a
330 CHAEGE TO THE
practical sense of it upon their hearts, as what they
acknowledge their belief of, and profess they ought
to conform themselves to. And this is to be done
by keeping up, as we are able, the form and face
of religion with decency and reverence, and in such
a decree as to brina^ the thouo-hts of relioion often
to their minds ; and then endeavouring to make
this form more and more subservient to promote the
reality and power of it. The form of religion may
indeed be where there is little of the thing itself;
but the thing itself cannot be preserved amongst
mankind witliout the form. And this form fre-
quently occurring in some instance or other of it
will be a frequent admonition to bad men to repent,
and to good men to grow better ; and also be the
means of their doing so.
That which men have accounted religion in the
several countries of the world, generally speaking,
has had a great and conspicuous part in all public
appearances, and the face of it been kept up with
great reverence throughout all ranks, from the
highest to the lowest ; not only upon occasional
solemnities, but also in the daily course of be-
haviour. In the heathen world, their superstition
was the chief subject of statuary, sculpture, paint-
ing, and poetry. It mixed itself with business,
civil forms, diversions, domestic entertainments, and
every part of common life. The Mahometans are
obliged to short devotions five times between morn-
ing and evening. In Roman catholic countries,
people cannot pass a day without having religion
recalled to their thoughts, by some or other memo-
rial of it ; by some ceremony or public religious
form occurring in their way : besides their frequent
holydays, the short prayers they are daily called to,
CLERGY OF DUKIIAM, 1751. 331
and the occasional devotions enjoined by confessors.
By these means their superstition sinks deep into
the minds of the people, and their religion also into
the minds of such among them as are serious and
well-disposed. Our reformers, considering that some
of these observances were in themselves wrong and
superstitious, and others of them made subservient
to the purposes of superstition, abolished them,
reduced the form of religion to great simplicity,
and enjoined no more particular rules, nor left any
thing more of what was external in religion, than
was in a manner necessary to preserve a sense of
religion itself upon the minds of the people. But
a great part of this is neglected by the generality
amongst us ; for instance, the service of the church,
not only upon common days, but also upon saints'
clays ; and several other things might be mentioned.
Thus they have no customary admonition, no public
call to recollect the thoughts of God and religion
from one Sunday to another.
It was far otherwise under the law. These loords,
says Moses to the children of Israel, which I com-
mand thee, shall he in thine heart: and thou shalt
teach them diligently unto thy children, and shalt talk
of them when thou sittest in tliine house, and ivhen
thou ivalhest hy the ivay, and -when thou liest down,
and when thou, risest up ^\ And as they were com-
manded this, so it is obvious how much the con-
stitution of that law was adapted to effect it, and
keep religion ever in view. And without somewhat
of this nature, piety will grow languid even among
the better sort of men ; and the worst will go on
quietly in an abandoned course, with fewer inter-
ruptions from within than they would have, were
^ Deut. vi. 6, 7.
332 CHARGE TO THE
religious reflections forced oftener upon their minds,
and consequently with less probability of their
amendment. Indeed in most ages of the church,
the care of reasonable men has been, as there has
been for the most part occasion, to draw the people
off from laying too great weight upon external
thmgs ; upon formal acts of piety. But the state
of matters is quite changed now with us. These
things are neglected to a degree, which is, and can-
not but be attended with a decay of all that is
good. It is highly seasonable now to instruct the
people in the importance of external religion.
And doubtless under this head must come into
consideration a proper regard to the structures
which are consecrated to the service of God. In
the present turn of the age, one may observe a
wonderful frugality in every thing which has re-
spect to religion, and extravagance in every thing
else. But amidst the appearances of opulence and
improvement in all common things, wliich are now
seen in most places, it would be hard to find a
reason why these monuments of ancient piety should
not be preserved in their original beauty and mag-
nificence. But in the least opulent places they
must be preserved in becommg repair ; and every
thing relating to the divine service be, however,
decent and clean ; otherwise we shall vilify the face
of religion whilst we keep it up. All this is indeed
principally the duty of others. Yours is to press
strongly upon them what is their duty in this re-
spect, and admonish them of it often, if they are
negligent.
But then you must be sure to take care and not
neglect that part of the sacred fabric which belongs
to you to maintain in repair and decency. Such
CLERGY OF DURHAM, 1751. 333
neglect would be great impiety in you, and of most
pernicious example to others. Nor could you, with
any success, or any propriety, urge upon them their
duty in a regard in which you yourselves should be
openly neglectful of it.
Bishop Fleetwood has observed^, that unless the
good public spirit of building, repairing, and adorn-
ing churches p)revails a great deal more among us,
and he more encouraged, an hundred years ivill hriiig
to the ground an huge number of our churches. This
excellent prelate made this observation forty years
ago: and no one, I believe, wiU imagine, that the
good spirit he has recommended prevails more at
present than it did then.
But if these appendages of the divine service are
to be regarded, doubtless the divine service itself is
more to be regarded ; and the conscientious attend-
ance upon it ought often to be inculcated upon the
people, as a plain precept of the gospel, as the means
of grace, and what has pecuhar promises annexed
to it. But external acts of piety and devotion, and
the frequent returns of them, are, moreover, neces-
sary to keep up a sense of religion, which the affairs
of the world will otherwise wear out of men's
hearts. And the frequent returns, whether of pub-
lic devotions, or of any thing else, to introduce
religion into men's serious thoughts, will have an
influence upon them, in proportion as they are
susceptible of religion, and not given over to a
reprobate mind. For this reason, besides others,
the service of the church ought to be celebrated as
often as you can have a congregation to attend it.
But since the body of the people, especially in
country places, cannot be brought to attend it
c Cliarge to the Clergy of St. Asaph, 1 7 1 o.
334 CHARGE TO THE
oftener than one day in a week ; and since this is
in no sort enough to keep u]3 in them a due sense
of rehgion ; it were greatly to be wislied they could
be persuaded to any thing which might, in some
measure, supply the want of more frequent public
devotions, or serve the like purposes. Family
prayers, regularly kept up in every house, would
have a great and good effect.
Secret prayer, as expressly as it is commanded by
our Saviour, and as evidently as it is implied in the
notion of piety, will yet, I fear, be grievously for-
gotten by the generality, till they can be brought
to fix for themselves certain times of the day for it ;
since this is not done to their hands, as it was in
the Jewish church by custom or authority. Indeed
custom, as well as the manifest propriety of the
thing, and examples of good men in scripture, justify
us in insisting, that none omit their prayers morning
or evening, who have not thrown off all regards to
piety. But secret prayer comprehends not only
devotions before men begin and after they have
ended the business of the day, but such also as may
be performed while they are employed in it, or even
in company. And truly, if, besides our more set
devotions, morning and evening, all of us would fix
upon certain times of the day, so that the return of
the hour should remind us, to say short prayers, or
exercise our thoughts in a way equivalent to this ;
perhaps there are few persons in so high and
habitual a state of piety, as not to find the benefit
of it. If it took up no more than a minute or two,
or even less time than that, it would serve the end
I am proposing ; it would be a recollection, that we
are in the Divine presence, and contribute to our
heing in the fear of the Lord all the day long.
CLEEGY OF DURHAM, 1751. 335
A duty of the like kind, and serving to the same
purpose, is the particular acknowledgment of God
when we are partaking of his bounty at our meals.
The neglect of this is said to have been scandalous
to a proverb in the heathen world ^^ ; but it is without
shame laid aside at the tables of the highest and the
lowest rank among us.
And as parents should be admonished, and it
should be pressed upon their consciences, to teach
their children their prayers and catechism, it being
what they are obliged to upon all accounts ; so it is
proper to be mentioned here, as a means by which
they will bring the principles of Christianity often
to their own minds, instead of laying aside all
thoughts of it from week's-end to week's-end.
General exhortations to piety, abstracted from the
particular circumstances of it, are of great use to
such as are already got into a rehgious course of
life ; but, such as are not, though they be touched
with them, yet when they go away from church, they
scarce know where to begm, or how to set about
what they are exhorted to. And it is with respect
to religion, as in the common affairs of life, in which
many things of great consequence intended, are yet
never done at all, because they may be done at any
time, and in any manner ; which would not be, were
some determinate time and manner voluntarily fixed
upon for the doing of them. Particular rules and
directions then concerning the times and circum-
stances of performing acknowledged duties, bring
religion nearer to practice ; and such as are really
proper, and cannot well be mistaken, and are easily
t^ Cudworth on the Lord's Snipper, p. 8. Casaub. in Athenseura
1. i. c. xi. p. 2 2. Duport. Preel. in Theophrastum, ed. Needham, c.
is. p. 335, &c.
336 CHARGE TO THE
observed. — Such particular rules in religion, pru-
dently recommended, would have an influence upon
the people.
All this indeed may be called form ; as every thing
external in religion may be merely so. And there-
fore whilst we endeavour, in these and other like
instances, to keep up the form of godliness ® amongst
those who are our care, and over whom we have any
influence, we must endeavour also that this form be
made more and more subservient to promote the
jpower of it®. Admonish them to take heed that
they mean what they say in their prayers, that their
thoughts and intentions go along with their words,
that they really in their hearts exert and exercise
before God the affections they express with their
mouth. Teach them, not that external religion is
nothing, for this is not true in any sense ; it being
scarce possible, but that it will lay some sort of
restraint upon a man's morals ; and it is moreover
of good effect with respect to the world about him.
But teach them that regard to one dutv will in no
sort atone for the neglect of any otlier. Endeavour
to raise in their hearts such a sense of God as shall
be an habitual, ready principle of reverence, love,
gratitude, hope, trust, resignation, and obedience.
Exhort them to make use of every circumstance,
which brings the subject of religion at all before
them ; to turn their hearts habitually to him ; to
recollect seriously the thoughts of his presence in
luhom they live and move and have their being, and
by a short act of their mind devote themselves to
his service. — If, for instance, persons would accustom
themselves to be thus admonished by the very sight
of a church, could it be called superstition ■? Enforce
« 2 Tim. iii. 5.
CLEKGY OF DUEHAM, 1751. 337
upon them the necessity of making religion their
principal concern, as what is the express condition
of the gospel covenant, and what the very nature
of the thing requires. Explain to them the terms
of that covenant of mercy, founded in the incar-
nation, sacrifice, and intercession of Christ, together
with the promised assistance of the Holy Ghost, not
to supersede our own endeavours, but to render them
effectual. The greater festivals of the church, being
instituted for commemorating the several parts of
the gospel histor}^ of course lead you to exjjlain
these its several doctrines, and shew the Christian
practice which arises out of them. And the more
occasional solemnities of religion, as well as these
festivals, will often afford you the fairest oppor-
tunities of enforcing all these things in familiar con-
versation. Indeed all affectation of talking piously ;
is quite nauseous : and though there be nothing of
this, yet men will easily be disgusted at the too
great frequency or length of these occasional admo-
nitions. But a word of Grod and religion dropped
sometimes in conversation, gently, and without any
thing severe or forbidding in tlie manner of it, this
is not unacceptable. It leaves an impression, is
repeated again by the hearers, and often remembered
by plain well-disposed persons longer than one would
think. Particular circumstances too, which render
men more apt to receive instruction, should be laid
hold of to talk seriously to their consciences. For
instance, after a man's recovery from a dangerous
sickness, how proper is it to advise him to recollect
and ever bear in mind, what were his hopes or fears,
his wishes and resolutions, when under the ajDpre-
hension of death ; in order to bring him to repentance,
or confirm him in a course of piety, according as his
BUTLER, SEKMONS. Z
338 CHAEGE TO THE
life and character lias been. So likewise the terrible
accidents which often happen from riot and de-
bauchery, and indeed almost every vice, are occa-
sions providentially thrown in your way, to discourse
against these vices in common conversation, as well
as from the pulpit, upon any such accidents happen-
ing in your parish, or in a neighbouring one. Occa-
sions and circumstances of a like kind to some or
other of these occur often, and ouoht, if I may so
speak, to be catched at, as opportunities of convey-
ing instruction, both public and private, with great
force and advantage.
Public instruction is absolutely necessary, and can
in no sort be dispensed with. But as it is common
to all who are present, many persons strangely
neglect to appropriate what they hear to them-
selves, to their own heart and life. Now the only
remedy for this in our power is a particular per-
sonal application. And a personal application makes
a very different impression from a common, general
one. It were therefore greatly to be wished, that
every man should have the principles of Christianity,
and his own particular duty enforced upon his
conscience, in a manner suited to his capacity, in
private. And besides the occasional opportunities
of doing this, some of which have been intimated,
there are stated opportunities of doing it. Such,
for instance, is confirmation : and the usual age for
confirmation is that time of life, from which youth
must become more and more their own masters,
when thev are often lea vino- their father's house,
going out into the wide world and all its numerous
temptations ; against which they particularly want
to be fortified, by having strong and lively im-
pressions of religion made upon their minds. Now
CLERGY OF DURHAM, 1751. 339
the 6ist canon expressly requires, that every minister
that hath care of sonls shall use his best endeavour
to prepare and make able as many as he can to
be confirmed ; which cannot be done as it ought
without such personal application to each candi-
date in particular as I am recommending. Another
opportunity for doing this is, when any one of your
parishioners signifies his name, as intending for the
first time to be partaker of the communion. The
rubric requires, that all persons, whenever they
intend to receive, shall signify their names before-
hand to the minister ; which, if it be not insisted
upon in all cases, ought absolutely to be insisted
upon for the first time. Now this even lays it
in your way to discourse with them in private
upon the nature and benefits of this sacrament, and
enforce upon them the importance and necessity
of religion. However I do not mean to put this
upon the same foot with catechizing youth, and
preparing them for confirmation ; these being in-
dispensable obligations, and expressly commanded
by our canons. This private intercourse with your
parishioners preparatory to their first communion,
let it, if you please, be considered as a voluntary
service to religion on your part, and a voluntary
instance of docility on theirs. I will only add as
to this practice, that it is regularly kept up by
some persons, and particularly by one, whose ex-
emplary behaviour in every part of the pastoral
office is enforced upon you by his station of au-
thority and influence in (this part^ especially of)
the diocese.
I am very sensible, my brethren, that some of
these things in places where they are greatly
f The archdeaconry of Northumberland,
z 2
340 CHAEGE TO THE
wanted are impracticable, from the largeness of
parishes, suppose. And where there is no impedi-
ment of this sort, yet the performance of them
Avill depend upon others, as well as upon you.
People cannot be admonished or instructed in pri-
vate, unless they will permit it. And little ^vvill
you be able to do in forming the minds of chil-
dren to a sense of religion, if their parents will
not assist you in it ; and yet much less, if they
will frustrate your endeavours, by their bad ex-
ample, and givmg encouragement to their children
to be dissolute. The like is to be said also of your
influence in reforming the common people in general,
in proportion as their superiors act in like manner to
such parents; and whilst they, the lower people I
mean, must have such numerous temptations to
drunkenness and riot every where placed in their
way. And it is cruel usage we often meet with,
in being censured for not doing what we cannot
do, without, what we cannot have, the concurrence
of our censurers. Doubtless very much reproach
which now lights upon the clergy would be found
to foil elsewhere, if due allowances were made for
things of this kind. But then we, my brethren,
must take care and not make more than due
allowances for them. If others deal uncharitably
with us, we must deal impartially with ourselves,
as in a matter of conscience, in determining what
good is in our power to do : and not let indolence
keep us from setting about what really is in our
power; nor any heat of temper create obstacles in
the prosecution of it, or render insuperable such
as we find, when perhaps gentleness and j^atience
would prevent or overcome them.
Indeed all this diligence to which I have been
CLEEOY OF DUEHAM, 1751. 341
exhorting you and myself, for God forbid I should
not consider myself as included in all the general
admonitions you receive from me ; all this diligence
in these things does indeed suppose, that we give
ourselves wholly to them. It supposes, not only that
we have a real sense of religion upon our own minds,
but also, that to promote the practice of it in others
is habitually uppermost in our thought and intention,
as the business of our Hves. And this, my brethren,
is the business of our lives, in everv sense, and
upon every account. It is the general business of
all Christians as they have opportunity: it is our
particular business. It is so, as we have devoted
ourselves to it by the most solemn engagements ;
as, according to our Lord's, ajp^xmitment we live of
the gospel S; and as the preservation and advance-
ment of religion, in such and such districts, are, in
some respects, our appropriated trust.
By being ftiithful in the discharge of this our
trust, by thus taking heed to the miyiistry ive have
received in the Lord that we fidjil it 1\ we shall do
our part towards reviving a practical sense of reli-
gion amongst the people committed to our care.
And this will be the securest barrier against the
efforts of infidelity ; a great source of which plainly
is, the endeavour to get rid of religious restraints.
But whatever be our success with regard to others,
we shall have the approbation of our consciences,
and may rest assured, that, as to ourselves at least,
our labour is not ifi vain in the Lord \
g I Cor. ix. 14. h Col. iv, 17. i i Cor. xv. 58.
NOTES TO THE CHARGE
BY THE EDITOE.
The publication of bishop Butler's Charge, in the year 1751,
was followed by a pamphlet, printed in 1752, entitled, " A Serious
" Inquiry into the Use and Importance of External Religion, occa-
" sioned by some passages in the Right Reverend the Lord Bishop
" of Durham's Charge to the Clergy of that Diocese, &c., humbly
" addressed to his Lordship." This pamphlet has been reprinted
in a miscellaneous woi'k : such pai-ts of it as seemed most worthy
of observation, the reader will find in the following notes upon those
passages of the Charge to which the pamphlet refers.
Page 329. 1. 8.
The law of virtue written upon our Jiearts.l — The author of the
Inquiry, mentioned above, informs us, in his postscript, that " the
" certain consequence of referring mankind to a Jaio of nature, or
" virtue, written upon tJieir hearts, is their having recourse to their
'' own sense of things on all occasions ; which being, in a great ma-
'' jority, no better than family superstition, party-prejudice, or self-
" interested artifice, (perhaps a compound of all,) will be too apt to
" overrule the plain precepts of the gospel." And he declares, he has
" no better opinion of the clearness, certainty, uniformity, universality,
" &c. of this law, than" he has " of the imp)ortance of external reli-
" gion." What then must we say to St. Paul, who not only asserts,
in the strongest terms, the reality of such a law, but speaks of its
obligation as extending to all mankind 1 blaming some among the
Gentiles as loifhout excuse, for not adverting to and obeying it ; and
NOTES TO THE CHARGE. 343
commending others fordoing by nature (in contradistinction to reve-
lation) the things contained in the law, thus shelving the v^orlc of the law
written in their hearts. If, because " natural religion is liable to be
" mistaken, it is high time to have done with it in the puljnt;" how
comes it that the same apostle refers the Philippians to the study of
this religion, to whatsoever things are true, honest, just, lovely, and of
good report 1 And yet, without such a study, our knowledge of the
moral law must always remain imperfect ; for a complete system of
morality is certainly nowhere to be found either in the Old or New
Testament ''^. "When a Christian minister is enforcing the duties or
doctrines of revealed religion, he may perhaps do well to " tell his
" people he has no other proof of the original, truth, oldigations,
" present benefits and future rewards of religion, to lay before them,
" than what is contained in the scriptures," But what if his purpose
be to inculcate some moral virtue 1 Will it not be useful here, be-
sides observing that the practice of that virtue is enjoined by a divine
command, to recommend it still further to his hearers, by shewing
that it approves itself to our inward sense and perception, and ac -
cords with the native sentiments and suggestions of our minds %
Metaphysicians may say what they will of our feelings of this f:Ort
being all illusive, liable to be perverted by education and habit, and
judged of by men's own sense of things : they, whose understandings
are yet unspoiled hyphilosophy and vain deceit, will be little disposed
to listen to such assertions. Nor are there wanting arguments which
prove, and, as should seem, to the satisfaction of every reasonable
inquirer, that the great and leading principles of moral duties have
in all ages been the same ; that such virtues as benevolence, justice,
compassion, gratitude, accidental obstacles removed, and when the
precise meaning of the words has been once explained, ai'c instinct-
ively known and approved by all men ; and that our approbation of
these is as much a part of our nature implanted in us by God, and
as little liable to caprice and fashion, as the sense of seeing, given us
also by him, by which all bodies appear to us in an erect, and not an
inverted position ^. Mr. Locke's authority has been generally looked
up to as decisive on such questions ; and his sentiments have been
embraced implicitly, and without examination. That great and good
man, however, is not to be charged with the pernicious consequences
which others have drawn from his opinions : consequences which
have been carried to such a length, as to destroy all moral difference
=> See the second of Dr. Balguy's Charges.
b See the third of Bishop Ilurd's f^ermons, vol. i.
344 NOTES TO THE CHARGE
of human actions ; making virtue and vice altogether arbitrary ;
calling evil good, and good evil; putting darkness for light, and light
for darkness ; putting hitter for sweet, and sweet for hitter.
Page 330. 1. 4.
Bi/ keeping iip, as toe are able, the form and face of religion — in
f^uch a degree as to bring the thoughts of religion often to their niinds.]
To this it is said by our inquirer, that " the clergy of the church of
" England have no way of keeping up the form and /ace of religion
" any oftener, or in any other degree, than is directed by the pre-
" scribed order of the church." As if the whole duty of a parish
priest consisted in reading prayers and a sermon on Sundays, and
performing the occasional offices appointed in the liturgy ! One
would think the writer who made this objection had never read more
of the Charge than the four pages he has particularly selected for
the subject of his animadversions. Had he looked further, he would
have found other methods recommended to the clergj^, of intro-
ducing a sense of religion into the minds of their parishioners which
occur 7nuch oftener than the times allotted for the public services of
the church : such as family prayers ; acknowledging the divine
bounty at our meals ; personal applications from ministers of parishes
to individuals under their care, on particular occasions and circum-
Btances : as at the time of confirmation, at first receiving the holy
communion, on recovery from sickness, and the like ; none of which
are prescribed in our established ritual, any more than those others
so ludicrously mentioned by this writer, " bowing to the east, tui-n-
*•' ing the face to that quarter in repeating the creeds, dipping the
" finger in water, and therewith crossing the child's forehead in
" baptism."
Page 330. 1. 11.
The thing itself cannot he preserved amongst mankind without the
form.] — The quakers reject all forms, even the two of Christ's own
institution : will it be said, that " these men have no religion pi'e-
" served among them 1 " It will neither be said nor insinuated. The
quakers, thougli they have not the form, are careful to keep up the
face of religion ; as appears, not only from the custom of asseml)ling
themselves for the purposes of i)ublic worship on the Lord's day,
but from their silent meetings on other days of the week. And that
they are equally sensible of the impoi-tance of maintaining the in-
fluence of religion on their minds, is manifest from the practice of
wliat they call imixtrd prayer, in coiiforniity to the direction of
BY THE EDITOR. 345
scripture topray continually: "which," saith RohertBnrclay," cannot
" be understood of outward prayer, because it were impossible tliat
" men should be always upon their knees, expressing the words of
prayer ; which would hinder them from the exercise of those duties
no less positively commanded." Apo/o(/7/ for the Quakers, Prop. xi.
Of Worship.
Page 330. 1. 12.
This form fi-equently occurring in some instance or other of it will
he a frequent admonition, &e.] — Here it has been objected, that "the
" number, variety, anA frequent occurrence of foi'uis in religion, are
" too apt to be considered by tlie generality as commutations for their
" vices, as something substituted in litu of repentance, and as loads
" and encumbrances upon true Chi-istian edification." This way of
arguing against the use of a thing from the abuse of it, instead of
arguing from the nature of the thing itself, is the master sophism
that pervades the whole performance we are here examining. What
reasonable man ever denied, that the pomp of outward worship has
been sometimes mistaken for inward piety ? that positive institu-
tions, when rested in as ends, instead of being applied as means, are
hurtful to the interests of true religion 1 Not bishop Butler certainly,
who blames the observances of the papists on this account, some of
them as being " in themselves wrong and superstitious ; " and others,
as being " made subservient to the purposes of superstition," and
for this reason " abolished by our reformers." In the mean while, it
will still be true, that bodily worship is by no means to be discarded,
as unuseful in exciting spiritual devotion ; on the contrary, that they
mutually assist and strengthen each other ; and that a mere mental
intercourse with God, and a religious service purely intellectual, is
altogether unsuitable to such a creature as man. during his present
state on earth.
Page 330. 1. 30.
In Roman catholic countries, people cannot pass a day without
having religion recalled to their thoughts — by some ceremony, or
public religiousyb^'m, occurring in their ivay.] " "What in the former
" period " (when speaking of the heathen world) " was called super-
" stiiion, becomes in this" (when speaking of Roman catholics)
" religion, and religious forms; which the papists pretending to
" connect with Christianity, and the Charge giving no hint that this
" is no more than a pretence, a plain reader must needs take this as
" spoken of the means and memorials of true religion, and will
346 NOTES TO THE CHARGE
" accordingly consider these as recommended to his practice and
" imitation." If a plain reader, at first view of the passage alluded
to, should inadvertently fall into such a mistake, he would find that
mistake immediately corrected by the very next sentence that
follows, where the religion of the Roman catholics, and their super-
stition, are distinguished from each other in express words. But
the terms in question are used with iiie strictest propriety. The
design of the bishop, in this part of his Charge, is to consider
religion, not under the notion of its being true, but as it affects the
senses and imaginations of the multitude. For so the paragraph
begins : " That which men have accounted religion in the several
" countries of the world," (whether the religion be true or false is
beside his present argument,) " generally speaking, has had a great
" and conspicuous part in all public appearances." This position
he illustrates by three examples, the heathen, the Mahometan, and
the Roman catholic religions. The two first of these, having little
or nothing of true religion belonging to them, may well enough be
characterized under the common name of superstition : the last
contains a mixture of both ; which therefore the bishop, like a good
writer, as well as a just reasoner, is careful to distinguish. In
Roman catholic countries, a man can hardly travel a mile without
passing a crucifix erected on the road side : he may either stop to
worship the image represented on the cross, or he may simply be
reminded by it of his own relation to Christ crucified ; thus by one
and the same outward sign "religion may be recalled to his
" thoughts," or superstition may take possession of his mind. In
the celebration of the eucharist, the elements of bread and Avine are
regarded by a papist as the very body and blood of Christ ; to a
protestant, they appear only as symbols and memorials of that body
and blood : what in one is an act of rational devotion, becomes in
the other an instance of the grossest superstition, if not idolatry.
Page 331. 1. 27.
And vjlien thou risest wp.] — Allowing that "what Moses in this
" passage wanted to have effected was obedience to the moved law,"
nothing, sure, could be of greater use in securing that obedience
than the practice here enjoined. Our inquirer, however, is of a dif-
ferent opinion, and "very much qiicstions whether his lordship could
" have fallen upon any passage in the Old Testament, Avhich relates
" at all to his subject, that would have been less favourable to his
" argument." Who shall decide, &c.? — The bishop goes on, "As they
" (tlie Jews) were commanded this, so it is obvious how much the
BY THE EDITOR. 347
" coustitution of their law was adapted to effect it, and keep religion
" ever in view." Upon which the inquirer remarks, " It was then
" very ill, or at least very unwisely done, to abrogate that law, whose
" constitution was adapted to so excellent a purpose." Let us first
see what may be offered in defence of the bishop, and then consider
what is to be said in answer to his opponent. The purpose for which
the Mosaic constitution was established was this : to preserve, amidst
a world universally addicted to polytheism and idolatry, the great
doctrine of the Unity of the Divine Nature, till the seed should come
to whom the promise was made. As a means to this end, the Israelites
were not only to be kept separate from every other nation; but, the
better to ensure such separation, they were to be constantly em-
ployed in a multifarious ritual, which left them neither time nor op-
portunity for deviating into the superstitious observances of their
pagan neighbours. And this, I suppose, may suffice for vindicating
the bishop's assertion, that "the constitution of the Jewish law was
" adapted to keep religion ever in view." But the Jewish law was
not only adapted to this end ; we are next to observe, that the end
itself was actually gained. For though it be too notorious to be
denied, that the Jews did not always confine their religious homage
to the God of Israel, but polluted the service, due to him alone, with
foreign worship ; yet, even in their worst defection, it should l)e re-
membered, they never totally rejected the true Jehovah ; and after
their return from captivity, they were so thoroughly cured of all re-
maining propensity to the idolatrous rites of heathenism, as never
again to violate their allegiance to the God of their fathers. It ap-
pears then, that, in consequence of the Jewish sepai-ation, the prin-
cii^le of the Unity was in fact preserved inviolate among that people
till the coming of Chiist. "When the Mosaic constitution had thus
attained its end, and mankind were now prepared for the reception
of a better covenant, the law expired of course ; the partition wall
that had divided the Jew from the Gentile was taken down, and all
distinction between them lost, under the common name of Christians.
And this may suffice to shew, in opposition to our inquirer, that it
was both very well and very loisely done to abrogate a law, when the
pui-pose for which the law had been enacted was accomplished.
Page 332. 1. 1.
^Vere reliyious reflections forced o/Zejier ztpoji their minds.^ "Ac-
" cording to the bishop's doctrine," then, says the inquirer, " it
" should be not only good policy, but wholesome discipline, io force
348 NOTES TO THE CHARGE.
" men in England to come to church, and in France to go to mass."
And again, " If externals have this virtue to enforce reHgious reflec-
" tions, it must be right to compel those who are indisposed to such
" reflections, to attend these memorials." Yes ; granting that the
sense of the passage in the Charge is not shamefully perverted, and
that we are to understand the bishop here to speak of external force
and compulsion. Whereas, by " religious reflections forced^' is
plainly meant no more than religious reflections oftener thrown in
men's loay, brought more freqviently into their thoughts, so as to
produce an habitual recollection that they are always in the divine
presence.
Page 332. 1. 11.
To instrtict the 'peo'ple in the importance of external religion.'^
" The importance of external religion," the inquirer remarks, " is
" the gi-and engine of the papists, which they play with the greatest
" effect upon our common people, who are always soonest taken and
" ensnared hy form and shoiv ; and, so far as we concur with them
" in the pinnciple, we are doing their work ; since, if externals, as
" such, are important, the plain natural consequence is, the more of
" tliem the better." He had the same reflection once before : " If
" true religion cannot be preserved among men without forms, the
" consequence must be, that the Romish religion, having more
"frequent occurrences of forms, is better than other religions, which
" have /ewer of these occurrences." To this argument, I reply,
Nego cmisequentiam. There may be too much of form in religion, as
well as too little : the one leads to enthusiasm, the other degenerates
into superstition ; one is puritanism, the other popery; whei'eas the
rational worship of God is equally removed from either extreme.
Did the inquirer never hear of the possibility of having too much of
a good thing] Or does he suppose, with the late historian of Great
Britain, that all religion is divided into two species, the superstitions
and the fanatical ; and that whatever is not one of these, must of
necessity be the other ?
COREESPONDENCE
BETWEEN
DR. BUTLER AND DR. CLARKE.
THE FIRST LETTER.
Reverend Sir,
I SUPPOSE you will wonder at the present trouble
from one who is a perfect stranger to you, though
you are not so to him; but I hope the occasion
will excuse my boldness. I have made it, sir, my
business, ever since I thought myself capable of
such sort of reasoning, to prove to myself the being
and attributes of God. And being sensible that it
is a matter of the last consequence, I endeavoured
after a demonstrative proof; not only more fully to
satisfy my own mind, Ijut also in order to defend
the great truths of natural religion, and those of
the Christian revelation which follow from them,
against all opposers : but must own with concern,
that hitherto I have been unsuccessful ; and though
I have got very probable arguments, yet I can go
but a very little way with demonstration in the
proof of those things. When first your book on
those subjects (which by all, Avhom I have dis-
350 CORRESPONDENCE BETWEEN
coursed with, is so justly esteemed) was recom-
mended to me, I was in great hopes of having all
my inquiries answered. But since in some places,
either through my not understanding your meaning,
or what else I know not, even that has failed me,
I almost despair of ever arriving to such a satisfac-
tion as I aim at, unless by the method I now use.
You cannot but know, sir, that of two different ex-
pressions of the same thing, though equally clear
to some persons, yet to others one of them is some-
times very obscure, though the other be perfectly
intelligible. Perhaps this may be my case here ;
and could I see those of your arguments, of which
I doubt, differently proposed, possibly I might yield
a ready assent to them. This, sir, I cannot but
think a sufficient excuse for the present trouble ;
it being such an one as I hope may prevail for an
answer, with one who seems to aim at nothine- more
than that good work of instructing others.
In your Demonstration of the Being and Attri-
butes of God, Prop. VI.'"^ [edit. 2d. p. 69, 70], you
propose to prove the infinity or omnipresence of
the self-existent Being. The fomier part of the
proof seems highly probable ; but the latter part,
which seems to aim at demonstration, is not to me
convincing. The latter part of the paragraph is,
if I mistake not, an entire argument of itself, which
runs thus : " To suppose a finite being to be self-
existent, is to say tliat it is a contradiction for that
being not to exist, the absence of which may yet
be conceived without a contradiction ; which is the
greatest absurdity in the world." The sense of
these words ['the absence of which'] seems plainly
to be determined by the following sentence, to mean
'' P. 45. edit. 4 ; p .41. edit. 6 ; p. 43. edit. 7 ; p. 44. edit. 8
mi. BUTLER AND DR. CLARKE. 351
its absence from any particular place. Which sen-
tence is to prove it to be an absurdity ; and is this :
" For if a being can, without a contradiction, be
absent from one place, it may, without a contradic-
tion, be absent from another place, and from all places."
Now supposing this to be a consequence, all that
it proves is, that if a being can, without a contra-
diction, be absent from one place at one time, it
may, without a contradiction, be absent from another
place, and so from all places, at different times ; (for
I cannot see, that if a being can be absent from one
place at one time, therefore it may, without a con-
tradiction, be absent from all places at the same
time, i.e. may cease to exist.) Now, if it proves
no more than this, I cannot see that it reduces the
supposition to any absurdity. Suppose I could de-
monstrate, that any particular man should live a
thousand years ; this man might, without a contra-
diction, be absent from one and from all places at
different times ; but it would not from thence follow,
that he might be absent from all places at the same
time, i. e. that he might cease to exist. No ; this
would be a contradiction, because I am supjDosed
to have demonstrated that he should live a thousand
years. It would be exactly the same, if, instead of
a thousand years, I should say, for ever ; and the
proof seems the same, whether it be applied to a
self-existent or a dependent being.
What else I have to offer is in relation to your
proof, that the self-existent being must of necessity
be but one. Which proof is as follows, in Prop. VI 1.^^
[edit. 2d. p. 74]. " To suppose two or more different
natures existing of themselves, necessarily, and in-
dependent from each other, implies this plain contra-
^ P. 48. edit. 4 ; p. 44. edit. 6; p. 46. edit. 7 ; p. 47. edit. 8.
352 COKRESPONDENCE BETWEEN
diction ; that, each of them being independent from
the other, they may either of them be supposed to
exist alone ; so that it will be no contradiction to
imagine the other not to exist, and consequently
neither of them will be necessarily existing." The
supposition indeed implies, that since each of these
beings is independent from the other, they may
either of them exist alone, i.e. without any rela-
tion to, or dependence on, the other: but where
is the third idea, to connect this proposition and
the following one, viz. " so that it will be no con-
tradiction to imagine the other not to exist?" Were
this a consequence of the former proposition, I allow
it would be demonstration, by the first corollary of
Prop. III.'^ [2d edit. p. 26], but since these two
propositions, [" they may either of them be supposed
to exist alone,"] and, [" so that it will be no contra-
diction to imagine the other not to exist,"] are very
widely different ; since likewise it is no immediate
consequence, that because either may be supposed
to exist independent from the other, therefore the
other may be supposed not to exist at all ; how is
what was proposed, proved ? That the propositions
are different, I think is plain ; and wliether there
be an immediate connection, every body that reads
your book must judge for themselves. I must say,
for my own part, the absurdity does not appear at
first sight, any more than the absurdity of saying
that the angles below the base in an isosceles tii-
angle are unequal ; which though it is absolutely
false, yet I suppose no one will lay down the con-
trary for an axiom ; because, though it is true, yet
there is need of a proof to make it appear so.
Perhaps it may be answered, that I have not
^ P. 16, 17. edit. 4, 6, 7, and 8.
DR. BUTLER AND DR. CLARKE. 353
rightly explained the words, " to exist alone ;" and
that they do not mean only, to exist independent
from the other; but that "existing alone" means
that nothing exists with it. Whether this or the
other was meant, I cannot determine : but, which
ever it was, what I have said will hold. For if
this last be the sense of those words, [" they either
of them may be supposed to exist alone;"] it indeed
imphes that it will be no contradiction to suppose
the other not to exist : but then I ask, how come
these two propositions to be connected ; that, to
suppose two different natures existing of them-
selves necessarily and independent from each other,
implies that each of them may be supposed to exist
alone in this sense 1 Which is exactly the same as
I said before, only applied to different sentences.
So that if " existing alone" be understood as I first
took it, I allow it is implied in the supposition ;
but cannot see that the consequence is, that it will
be no contradiction to suppose the other not to
exist. But if the words, " existing alone," are meant
in the latter sense, I grant, that if either of them
may be supposed thus to exist alone, it wW\ be no
contradiction to suppose the other not to exist :
but then I cannot see, that to suppose two different
natures existing, of themselves, necessarily and in-
dependent from each other, implies that either of
them may be supposed to exist alone in this sense
of the words ; but only, that either of them may
be supposed to exist without having any relation
to the other, and that there will be no need of the
existence of the one in order to the existence of
the other. But though upon this account, were
there no other principle of its existence, it might
cease to exist ; yet on the account of the necessity
BUTLER, SEEMONS. A a
354 CORRESPONDENCE BETWEEN
of its own nature, which is quite distinct from the
other, it is an absolute absurdity to suppose it not
to exist.
Thus, sir, I have proposed my doubts, with the
reasons of them. In which if I have wrested your
words to another sense than you designed them,
or m any respect argued unfairly, I assure you it
was without design. So I hope you will impute
it to mistake. And, if it will not be too great a
trouble, let me once more beg the favour of a Hne
from you, by which you will lay me under a par-
ticular obligation to be, what, with the rest of the
world, I now am,
Eeverend Sir,
Your most obliged servant, &c.
Nov. 4, 1713.
THE ANSWER
TO THE FIRST LETTER.
Sir,
Did men who publish controversial papers accus-
tom themselves to write with that candour and
ingenuity, with which you propose your dijQiculties,
I am persuaded almost all disputes might be very
amicably terminated, either by men's coming at last
to agree in ojoinion, or at least finding reason to
suffer each other friendly to differ.
Your two objections are very ingenious, and
urged with great strength and acuteness. Yet I
am not without hopes of being able to give you
satisfaction in both of them. To your first, there-
fore, I answer : Whatever may, without a contra-
DR. lUJTLER AND DR. CLARKE. 355
diction, be absent from any one place, at any one
time, may also, without a contradiction, be absent
from all places at all times. For, whatever is abso-
lutely necessary at all, is absolutely necessary in
every part of space, and in every point of duration.
Whatever can at any time be conceived possible to
be absent from any one part of space, may for the
same reason [viz. the implying no contradiction in
the nature of things] be conceived possible to be
absent from every other part of space at the same
time ; either by ceasing to be, or by supposing it
never to have begun to be. Your instance about
demonstrating a man to live a thousand years, is
what, I think, led you into the mistake ; and is a
good instance to lead you out of it again. You
may suppose a man shall live a thousand years, or
God may reveal and promise he shall live a thousand
years ; and upon that supposition, it shall not be
possible for the man to be absent from all places
in any part of that time. Very true : but why
shall it not be possible 1 only because it is contrary
to the supposition, or to the promise of God ; but
not contrary to the absolute nature of things ; which
would be the case, if the man existed necessarily,
as every part of space does. In supposing you
could demonstrate, a man should live a thousand
years, or one year ; you make an impossible and
contradictory supposition. For though you may
know certainly (by revelation suppose) that he will
live so long ; yet this is only the certainty of a
thing true in fact, not in itself necessary : and de-
monstration is applicable to nothing but what is
necessary in itself, necessary in all places and at all
times equally.
To your second difficulty, I answer : What exists
A a 2
856 CORRESPONDENCE BETWEEN
necessarily, not only must so exist alone, as to
be indejDendent of any thing else ; but (being self-
sufficient) may also so exist alone, as that every
thing else may possibly (or without any contradic-
tion in the nature of things) be supposed not to
exist at all : and consequently, (since that which
may possibly be supposed not to exist at all, is not
necessarily existent,) no other thing can be neces-
sarily existent. Whatever is necessarily existmg,
there is need of its existence in order to the sup-
posal of the existence of any other thing ; so that
nothing can possibly be supposed to exist, without
presupposing and including antecedently the exist-
ence of that which is necessary. For instance; the
supposal of the existence of any thing whatever in-
cludes necessarily a presupposition of the existence
of space and time ; and if any thing could exist
without space or time, it would follow that space
and time were not necessarily existing. Therefore,
the supposing any thing possibly to exist alone, so
as not necessarily to include the presupposal of some
other thing, proves demonstrably that that other
thing is not necessarily existing ; because, whatever
has necessity of existence cannot possibly, in any
conception whatsoever, be supposed away. There
cannot possibly be any notion of the existence of
any thing, there cannot possibly be any notion of
existence at all, but what shall necessarily preinclude
the notion of that which has necessary existence.
And consequently the two propositions, which you
judged independent, are really necessarily connected.
These sorts of things are indeed very difficidt to
express, and not easy to be conceived but by very
attentive minds : but to such as can and will attend,
nothing, I think, is more demonstrably convictive.
DR. BUTLER AND DR. CLARKE. 357
If any thing still sticks with you in this or any
other part of my books, I shall be very willing to
be informed of it ; who am,
Sir,
Your assured friend and servant,
S. C.
Nov. lo, 17 13.
P. S. Many readers, I observe, have misunder-
stood my second general proposition ; as if the
words [" some one unchangeable and independent
being"] meant [one only — being;] whereas the
true meaning, and all that the argument there re-
quires, is, [some one at least.] That there can be
but one, is the thing proved afterwards in the
seventh j^roposition.
THE SECOND LETTER
Eeverend Sir,
I HAVE often thousrht that the chief occasions of
men's differing so much in their opinions, were, either
their not understanding each other ; or else, that,
instead of ingenuously searching after truth, they
have made it their business to find out arguments
for the proof of what they have once asserted.
However, it is certain there may be other reasons
for persons not agreeing in their opinions : and
where it is so, I cannot but think with you, that
they will find reason to suffer each other to differ
friendly; every man having a way of thinking, in
some respects, peculiarly his own.
I am sorry I must tell you, your answers to my
358 CORRESPONDENCE BETWEEN
objections are not satisfactory. The reasons why I
think them not so are as follow :
You say, " Whatever is absolutely necessary at
all is absolutely necessary in every part of space,
and in every point of duration." Were this evi-
dent, it would certainly prove what you bring it
for ; viz. that " whatever may, without a contra-
diction, be absent from one place at one time,
may also be absent from all places at all times."
But I do not conceive, that the idea of ubi-
quity is contained in the idea of self-existence,
or directly follows from it ; any otherwise than
as, whatever exists must exist somewhere. You
add, " Whatever can at anv time be conceived
possible to be absent from any one part of space,
may for the same reason [viz. the implying no con-
tradiction in the nature of things] be conceived
possible to be absent from every other part of
space at the same time." Now I cannot see, that
I can make these two suppositions for the same
reason, or upon the same account. The reason why
I conceive this being may be absent from one place,
is because it doth not contradict the former proofl,
[drawn from the nature of things,] in which I
proved only that it must necessarily exist. But
the other supposition, viz. that I can conceive it
possible to be absent from every part of space at
one and the same time, directly contradicts the
proof that it must exist somewhere ; and so is an
express contradiction. Unless it be said, that as,
when we have proved the three angles of a tri-
angle equal to two right ones, that relation of
the equality of its angles to two right ones
will be wherever a triangle exists ; so, when we
have proved the necessary existence of a being,
DR. BUTLEll AND DR. CLARKE. 359
this being must exist every where. But there is
a great difference between these tw^o things : the
one being the proof of a certain relation, upon sup-
position of such a being's existence with such par-
ticular properties ; and consequently, wherever this
being and these properties exist, this relation must
exist too : but from the proof of the necessary
existence of a being, it is no evident consequence
that it exists every where. My using the word
demonstration, instead of "proof ivhich leaves no
room for doubt, was through negligence, for I never
heard of strict demonstration of matter of fact.
In your answer to my second difficulty, you say,
" Wliatsoever is necessarily existing, there is need
of its existence, in order to the supposal of the
existence of any other thing." All the consequences
you draw from this proposition, I see proved de-
monstrably ; and consequently, that the two pro-
positions I thought independent are closely con-
nected. But how, or upon what account, is there
need of the existence of whatever is necessarily
existing, in order to the existence of any other
thing 1 Is it as there is need of space and duration,
in order to the existence of any thing ; or is it
needful only as the cause of the existence of all
other things^ If the former be said, as your
instance seems to intimate: I answer; space and
duration are very abstruse in their natures, and, I
think, cannot properly be called things, but are con-
sidered rather as affections which belong, and in the
order of our thoughts are antecedently necessary, to
the existence of all things. And I can no more con-
ceive how a necessarily existent Being can, on the
same account, or in the same manner as space and
duration are, be needful in order to the existence
360 CORRESPONDENCE BETWEEN
of any other being, than I can conceive extension
attributed to a thought ; that idea no more belong-
ing to a tiling existing, than extension belongs to
thought. But if the latter be said, that there is
need of the existence of whatever is a necessary
being, in order to the existence of any other thing ;
only as this necessary being must be the cause of
the existence of aU other things : I think this is
plainly begging the question ; for it supposes
that there is no other being exists, but what is
casual, and so not necessary. And on what other
account, or in what other manner than one of these
two, there can be need of the existence of a
necessary being in order to the existence of any
thing else, I cannot conceive.
Thus, sir, you see I entirely agree with you in
all the consequences you have drawn from your
suppositions, but cannot see the truth of the sup-
positions themselves.
I have aimed at nothing in my style, but only
to be intelligible ; being sensible that it is very
difficult (as you observe) to express one's self on
these sorts of subjects, especially for one who is
altogether unaccustomed to write upon them.
I have nothing at present more to add, but my
sincerest thanks for your trouble in answering my
letter, and for your professed readiness to be ac-
quainted with any other difficulty that I may meet
with in any of your writings. I am willing to in-
terpret this, as somewhat like a promise of an
answer to what I have now written, if there be
any thing in it which deserves one.
I am, Reverend Sir,
Your most obliged humble servant.
Nov. 23, 1713.
DK. BUTLER AND DR. CLARKE. 361
THE ANSWER
TO THE SECOND LETTER.
Sir,
It seems to me, that the reason why you do
not apprehend ubiquity to be necessarily connected
with self-existence, is because, in the order of your
ideas, you first conceive a being, (a finite being,
suppose,) and then conceive self-existence to be a
property of that being ; as the angles are proper-
ties of a triangle, when a triangle exists : whereas,
on the contrary, necessity of existence, not being a
property consequent upon the supposition of the
things existing, but antecedently the cause or
ground of that existence ; it is evident this neces-
sity, being not limited to any antecedent subject,
as angles are to a triangle ; but being itself ori-
ginal, absolute, and (in order of nature) antecedent
to all existence ; cannot but be every where, for
the same reason that it is any where. By apply-
ing this reasoning to the instance of space, you will
find, that by consequence it belongs truly to that sub-
stance, whereof space is a ^ property, as duration also
is. What you say about a necessary being existing
somewhere, supposes it to be finite ; and being finite,
supposes some cause which determined that such a
certain quantity of that being should exist, neither
more nor less : and that cause must either be a
voluntary cause ; or else such a necessary cause,
the quantity of whose power must be determined
and limited by some other cause. But in original
absolute necessity, antecedent (in order of nature)
d Or, mode of existence.
362 CORRESPONDENCE BETWEEN
to the existence of any thing, nothing of all this
can have place ; but the necessity is necessarily
every where alike.
Concerning the second difficulty, I answer : That
which exists necessarily, is needful to the existence
of any other thing ; not considered now as a
cause, (for that indeed is begging the question,)
but as a sine qua non ; in the sense as space is
necessary to every thing, and nothing can possibly
be conceived to exist, without thereby presuppos-
ing space : which therefore I apprehend to be a
property or mode of the self-existent substance ; and
that, by being evidently necessary itself, it proves
that the substance, of which it is a proj^erty, must
also be necessary ; necessary both in itself, and
needful to the existence of any thing else what-
soever. Extension indeed does not belong to
thought, because thought is not a being ; but there
is need of extension to the existence of every
being, to a being which has or has not thought,
or any other quahty whatsoever.
I am, Sir,
Your real friend and servant.
London, Nov. 28, 1713.
THE THIED LETTER.
Revekend Sir,
I DO not very well understand your meaning,
when you say that you think, "in the order of
my ideas I first conceive a being (finite suppose)
to exist, and then conceive self-existence to be a
DR. BUTLER AND DR. CLARKE. o63
property of that being." If you mean that I first
suppose a finite being to exist I know not why ;
afiirming necessity of existence to be only a con-
sequent of its existence ; and that, when I have
supposed it finite, I very safely conclude it is not
infinite ; I am utterly at a loss, upon what ex-
pressions in my letter this conjecture can be founded.
But if you mean, that I first of all prove a being
to exist from eternity, and then, from the reasons
of things, prove that such a being must be eter-
nally necessary ; I freely own it. Neither do I
conceive it to be irregular or absurd ; for there is
a great difierence between the order in which
things exist, and the order in which I prove to
myself that they exist. Neither do I think my
saying a necessary being exists some where, sup-
poses it to be finite ; it only supposes that this
being exists in space, without determining whether
here, or there, or every where.
To my second objection, you say, " That which
exists necessarily, is needful to the existence of
any other thing, as a sine qua non ; in the sense
space is necessary to every thing: which is proved
(you say) by this consideration, that space is a
property of the self-existent substance ; and, being
both necessary in itself, and needful to the exist-
ence of every thing else ; consequently the sub-
stance, of which it is a property, must be so too."
Space, I own, is in one sense a property of the
self-existent substance ; but, in the same sense, it
is also a property of all other substances. The
only difierence is in respect to the quantity. And
since every part of space, as well as the whole,
is necessary ; every substance consequently must
be self-existent, because it hath this self-existent
364 CORRESPONDENCE BETWEEN
property. Which since you will not admit for true;
if it directly follows from your arguments, they can-
not be conclusive.
What you say under the first head proves, I
think, to a very great probability, though not to
me with the evidence of demonstration : but your
arguments under the second I am not able to see
the force of.
I am so far from being pleased that I can form
objections to your arguments, that, besides the sa-
tisfaction it would have given me in my own mind,
I should have thought it an honour to have en-
tered into your reasonings, and seen the force of
them. I cannot desire to trespass any more upon
your better employed time ; so shall only add my
hearty thanks for your trouble on my account, and
that I am with the greatest respect,
Eeverend Sir,
Your most obliged humble servant.
Dec. 5, 1713.
THE ANSWER
TO THE THIRD LETTER.
Sir,
Though, when I turn my thoughts every way, I
fidly persuade myself there is no defect in the
argument itself; yet in my manner of expression I
am satisfied there must be some want of clearness,
when there remains any difficulty to a person of
your abilities and sagacity. I did not mean that
DR. BUTLER AND DR. CLARKE. 365
jour saying a necessary being exists somewhere,
does necessarily suppose it to be finite ; but that
the manner of expression is apt to excite in the
mind an idea of a finite being, at the same time
that you are thinking of a necessary being, with-
out accurately attending to the nature of that neces-
sity by wliich it exists. Necessity absolute, and
antecedent (in order of nature) to the existence of
any subject, has nothing to limit it ; but, if it oper-
ates at all, (as it must needs do,) it must operate
(if I may so speak) every where and at all times
alike. Determination of a particular quantity, or
particular time or place of existence of any thing,
cannot arise but from somewhat external to the
thing itself For example : why there should
exist just such a small determinate quantity of
matter, neither more nor less, interspersed in the
immense vacuities of space, no reason can be given.
Nor can there be any thing in nature, which could
have determined a thing so indifferent in itself,
as is the measure of that quantity ; but only the
will of an intelligent and free agent. To sup-
pose matter, or any other substance, necessarily
existing in a finite determinate quantity; in an
inch-cube, for instance ; or in any certain number
of cube-inches, and no more ; is exactly the same
absurdity, as supposing it to exist necessarily, and
yet for a finite duration only : which every one sees
to be a plain contradiction. The argument is like-
wise the same, in the question about the original
of motion. Motion cannot be necessarily existing ;
because, it being evident that all determinations
of motion are equally possible in th emselves, the
original determination of the motion of any par-
ticular body this way rather than the contrary
366 CORRESPONDENCE BETWEEN
way, could not be necessarily in itself, but was
either caused by the will of an intelligent and free
agent, or else was an effect produced and determined
without any cause at all; which is an express con-
tradiction : as I have shewn in my Demonstration
of the Being and Attributes of God. [Page 14.
edit. 4th and 5th; page 12. edit. 6th and 7th.]
To the second head of argument, I answer : Space
is a property [or mode] of the self-existent sub-
stance ; but not of any other substances. All other
substances are in space, and are penetrated by it ;
but the self-existent substance is not in space, nor
penetrated by it, but is itself (if I may so speak)
the substratum of space, the ground of the existence
of space and duration itself. Which [space and
duration] being evidently necessary, and yet them-
selves not substances, but properties or modes, shew
evidently that the substance, without wliich these
properties could not subsist, is itself much more (if
that were possible) necessary. And as space and
duration are needful [i.e. sine qua non) to the ex-
istence of every thing else ; so consequently is the
substance, to which these properties belong in that
pecidiar manner which I before mentioned.
I am. Sir,
Your affectionate friend and servant.
Dec. lo, 1713.
THE FOURTH LETTER
Reverend Sir,
Whatever is the occasion of my not seeing the
force of your reasonings, I cannot impute it to [what
DR. BUTLER AND DR. CLARKE. 367
you do] the want of clearness in your expression. I
am too well acquainted with myself, to think my
not understanding an argument, a sufficient reason
to conclude that it is either improperly expressed, or
not conclusive ; unless I can clearly shew the defect
of it. It is with the greatest satisfaction I must tell
you, that the more I reflect on your first argument,
the more I am convinced of the truth of it ; and it
now seems to me altogether unreasonable to suppose
absolute necessity can have any relation to one part
of space more than to another ; and if so, an absolutely
necessary being must exist eveiy where.
I wish I was as well satisfied in respect to the
other. You say, "All substances, except the self-
existent one, are in space, and are penetrated by it."
AU substances doubtless, whether body or spirit,
exist in space : but when I say that a spirit exists
in space, where I put upon telling my meaning, I
know not how I could do it any other way than by
saying, such a particular quantity of space terminates
the capacity of acting in finite spirits at one and the
same time ; so that they cannot act beyond that
determined quantity. Not but that I think there is
somewhat in the manner of existence of spirits in
respect of space, that more directly answers to the
manner of the existence of bodv: but what that is,
or of the manner of their existence, I cannot possibly
form an idea. And it seems (if possible) much more
difficult to determine what relation the self-existent
Being hath to space. To say he exists in space, after
the same manner that other substances do, (some-
what like which I too rashly asserted in my last,)
perhaps would be placing the Creator too much on a
level with the creatm^e ; or however, it is not plainly
and evidently true : and to say the self-existent sub-
368 CORRESPONDENCE BETWEEN
stance is the substratum of space, in the common
sense of the word, is scarce intelligible, or at least is
not evident. Now though there may be an hundred
relations distinct from either of these ; yet how we
should come by ideas of them, I cannot conceive.
We may indeed have ideas to the words, and not
altogether depart from the common sense of them,
when we say the self-existent substance is the sub-
stratum of space, or the ground of its existence : but
I see no reason to think it true, because space seems
to me to be as absolutely self-existent, as it is possible
any thing can be : so that, make what other sup-
position you please, yet we cannot help supposing
immense space ; because there must be either an
infinity of being, or (if you will allow the expres-
sion) an infinite vacuity of being. Perliaps it may be
objected to this, that though space is really necessary,
yet the reason of its being necessary is its being a
property of the self-existent substance ; and that, it
being so evidently necessary, and its dependence on
the self-existent substance not so evident, we are
ready to conclude it absolutely self-existent, as well
as necessary; and that this is the reason why the
idea of space forces itself on our minds, antecedent
to, and exclusive of (as to the ground of its exist-
ence) all other things. Now this, though it is really
an objection, yet is no direct answer to what I have
said ; because it supposes the only thing to be
proved, viz. that the reason why space is necessary
is its being a property of a self-existent substance.
And supposing it not to be evident, that space is
absolutely self-existent ; yet, while it is doubtful, we
cannot argue as though the contrary were certain,
and we were sure that space was only a property of
the self-existent substance. But now, if space be
DR. BUTLER AXD DR. CLARKE. 369
not absolutely independent, I do not see what we
can conclude is so : for it is manifestly necessary
itself, as well as antecedently needful to the exist-
ence of all other things, not excepting (as I tliink)
even the self-existent substance.
All your consequences, I see, follow demonstrably
from your supposition ; and, were that evident, I
believe it would serve to prove several other things
as well as what you bring it for. Upon which
account, I should be extremely pleased to see it
proved by any one. For, as I design the search
after truth as the business of my life, I shall not
be ashamed to learn from any person ; though, at
the same time, I cannot but be sensible, that in-
struction from some men is like the gift of a prince,
it reflects an honour on the person on whom it lays
an obligation.
I am, Reverend Sir,
Your obhged servant.
Dec. 1 6, 1 7 13.
THE ANSWER
TO THE FOURTH LETTEK.
Sir,
My being out of town most part of the month
of January, and some other accidental avocations,
hindered me from answering your letter sooner. The
sum of the difficulties it contains is, I think, this :
that " it is difficult to determine what relation the
self-existent substance has to space : " that " to say
BUTLER, SERMONS. B b
370 CORRESPONDENCE BETWEEN
it is the substratum of space, in the common sense
of the word, is scarce intelHgible, or, at least, is not
evident : " that " space seems to be as absolutely self-
existent, as it is possible any thing can be : " and that
" its being a property of the self-existent substance is
supposing the thing that was to be proved." This is
entering indeed into the very bottom of the matter ;
and I wiU endeavour to give you as brief and clear
an answer as I can.
That the self-existent substance is the substratum
of space, or space a property of the self-existent
substance, are not perhaps very proper expressions ;
nor is it easy to find such. But what I mean is
this : The idea of space (as also of time or duration)
is an abstract or partial idea ; an idea of a certain
quahty or relation, which we evidently see to be
necessarily existing ; and yet which (not being itself
a substance) at the same time necessarily presupposes
a substance, without which it could not exist ; which
substance consequently must be itself (much more,
if possible) necessarily existing. I know not how
to explain this so well as by the following similitude.
A blind man,, when he tries to frame to himself the
idea of body, his idea is nothing but that of hardness.
A man that had eyes, but no power of motion, or
sense of feehng at all ; when he tried to frame to
himself the idea of body, his idea would be nothing
but that of colour. Now as, in these cases, hardness
is not bod}^ and colour is not body ; but yet, to
the understanding of these persons, those properties
necessarily infer the being of a substance, of which
substance itself the persons have no idea : so space
to us is not itself substance, but it necessarily infers
the being of a substance, which affects none of our
present senses ; and, being itself necessary, it follows,
DR. BUTLER AND DR. CLARKE. 371
that the substance, which it infers, Ls (much more)
necessary.
I am, Sir,
Your aftectionate friend and servant.
Jan. 29, 17 13.
THE FIFTH LETTER.
Eeverend Sir,
You have very comprehensively expressed, in six
or seven lines, all the difficulties of my letter ; which
I should have endeavoured to have made shorter,
had I not been afraid an improper expression might
possibly occasion a mistake of my meaning. I am
very glad the debate is come into so narrow a com-
pass ; for I think now it entirely turns upon this,
whether our ideas of space and dm^ation are partial,
so as to presuppose the existence of some other thmg.
Your similitude of the blind man is veiy apt, to
explain your meaning, (which I think I fully under-
stand,) but does not seem to come entirely up to the
matter. For what is the reason that the blind man
concludes there must be somewhat external, to give
him that idea of hardness \ It is because he supposes
it impossible for him to be thus affected, unless there
were some cause of it ; which cause, should it be
removed, the effect would immediately cease too ;
and he would no more have the idea of hardness, but
by remembrance. Now to apply this to the instance
of space and duration : Since a man, from his having
these ideas, very justly concludes that there must be
somewhat external, which is the cause of them ;
B b 2
372 CORRESPONDENCE BETWEEN
consequently, should this cause (whatever it is) be
taken away, his ideas would be so too : therefore, if
what is supposed to be the cause be removed, and
yet the idea remains, that supposed cause cannot
be the real one. Now, grantmg the self- existent
substance to be the substratum of these ideas, could
we make the supposition of its ceasing to be, yet
space and duration would still remain unaltered : which
seems to shew, that the self-existent substance is not
the substratum of space and duration. Nor would it be
an answer to the difficulty, to say that every property
of the self-existent substance is as necessary as the
substance itself; since that will only hold, while the
substance itself exists ; for there is implied, in the
idea of a property, an impossibility of subsisting
without its substratum. I grant, the supposition is
absurd : but how otherwise can we know whether
any thing be a property of such a substance, but by
examining whether it would cease to be, if its sup-
posed substance should do sol Notwithstanding
what I have now said, I cannot say that I beheve
your argument not conclusive ; for I must own my
ignorance, that I am really at a loss about the nature
of space and duration. But did it plainly appear
that they were properties of a substance, we should
have an easy way with the atheists : for it would
at once prove demonstrably an eternal, necessary,
self-existent Being ; that there is but one such ; and
that he is needful in order to the existence of all
other things. Which makes me think, that though
it may be true, yet it is not obvious to every capacity:
otherwise it would have been generally used, as a
fundamental argument to prove the being of God.
I must add one thing more ; that your argument
for the omnipresence of God seemed always to me
BR. BUTLER AND Dlt. CLARKE. 373
very probable. But being very desirous to liave
it appear demonstrably conclusive, I was sometimes
forced to say what was not altogether my opinion :
not that I did this for the sake of disputing, (for,
besides the particular disagreeableness of this to my
own temper, I should surely have chosen another
person to have trifled with ;) but I did it to set off
the objection to advantage, that it might be more
fully answered. I heartily wish you as fair treat-
ment ■ from your opponents in print, as I have had
from you ; though, I must own, I cannot see, in
those that I have read, that unprejudiced search
after truth, which I would have hoped for.
I am,
Reverend Sir,
Your most humble servant.
Fed. 3, 1713.
THE ANSWER
TO THE FIFTH LETTER.
Sir,
In a multitude of business, I mislaid your last
letter ; and could not answer it, till it came again
to my hands by chance. We seem to have pushed
the matter in question between us as far as it will
go ; and, upon the whole, I cannot but take notice, I
have very seldom met with persons so reasonable
and unprejudiced as yourself, in such debates as
these.
I think aD I need say, in answer to the reasoning
in your letter, is, that your granting the absurdity
374 CORRESPONDENCE BETWEEN
of the supposition you were endeavouring to make,
is consequently granting the necessary truth of my
argument. If ^ space and duration necessarily re-
main, even after they are supposed to be taken
away ; and be not (as it is plain they are not)
themselves substances; then the® substance, on
whose existence they depend, will necessarily remain
likewise, even after it is supposed to be taken away :
which shews that supposition to be impossible and
contradictory.
As to your observation at the end of your letter ;
that the argument I have insisted on, if it were ob-
vious to every capacity, should have more frequently
been used as a fundamental argument for a proof
of the being of God : the true cause why it has
been seldom urged, is, I think, this ; that the uni-
versal prevalency of Cartes's absurd notions (teaching
thatf matter is necessarily infinite and necessarily
eternal, and ascribing all things to mere mechanic
laws of motion, exclusive of final causes, and of all
will and intelligence and divine Providence from the
government of the world) hath incredibly blinded
^ Ut pai'tium temporis ordo est immutabilis, sic etiam orcio pai'-
tiura spatii. Moveantur hse de locis suis, et movebuntur (ut ita
dicam) de seipsis. Newton. Princip. Matliemat. Schol. ad definit. 8.
6 Deus non est seternitas vel infinitas, sed seternus et infinitus ;
non est duratio vel spatiiim, sed durat et adest. Durat semper, et
adest ubique ; et existendo semper et ubique, durationem et spatium,
seternitatem et infinitatem, constituit. Cum unaquaeque spatii par-
ticula sit semper ; et unumquodque duratiouis indivisibile momen-
tum ubique ; certe rerum omnium Fabricator ac Dominus non erit
nunquara nusquam. Omniprsesens est, non per virtutcm solam, sed
etiam per substautiam : nam virtus sine substantia subsistere non
potest. In ijiso continentur et moventur universa, &c. Nev)ton.
Princip. Mathemat. Schol. general, sxihjinem.
f Puto implicare contradictionem, ut mundus [meaning the mate-
rial world] sit finitus. Cartes. Epist. 69. Partis primoe.
DR. BUTLER AND DK. CLARKE. 375
the eyes of common reason, and prevented men from
discerning liini in tvhom they live, and iiiove, and
have theio' being. The hke has happened in some
other instances. How universally have men for
many ages believed, that eternity is no duration at
all, and infinity no amplitude ! Something of the
like kind has happened in the matter of transubstan-
tiation, and, I think, in the scholastic notion of the
Trinity, &c.
I am, Sir,
Your affectionate friend and servant.
April 8, 1 7 13.
THE END.
D
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