el-*
FIFTEEN SERMONS
PREACHED AT THE ROLLS CHAPEL:
TO WHICH ARE ADDKD
SIX SERMONS
PREACHED ON PUBLIC OCCASIONS, &C.
BY JOSEPH BUTLER, LL.D,
LATE LORD BISHOP OF DURHAM.
A NEW EDITION.
-3x
x"'
LONDON:
PRINTED FOR THOMAS TEGG, 73, CHEAPSIDE;
R. GRIFFIN & CO., GLASGOW ; AND TEGG & CO., DUBLIN.
MDCCCXLI.
WILLIAM TYLER,
PRIKTER,
5, BOLT-COURT, LONDON.
CONTENTS.
Page
SERMONS PREACHED AT THE ROLLS CHAPEL.
SERMON I.
Upon the Social Nature of Man.
For as we have many members in one body, and all members have
not the same office : so we being many, are one body in Christ,
and every one members one of another, (Rom. xii. 4, 5.) . .1
SERMON II. III.
x)
Upon the Natural Supremacy of Conscience.
For when the Gentiles which have not the law, do by nature the
things contained in the law, these having not the law, are a law unto
themselves, (Rom. ii. 14.) 14.23
SERMON IV.
Upon tJie Government of the Tongw..
If iiny man among you seem to be religious, and bridleth not his
tongue, but deceiveth his own heart, this man's religion is vain,
(James i. 26.) 30
SERMON V. VI.
Upon Compassion.
Rejoice with them that do rejoice, and weep with them that weep,
(Rom. xii. 15.) ... 40. 51
iv CONTENTS.
SERMON VII.
Upon the Character of Balaam.
Page
Let me die the death of the righteous, and let iny last end be like his,
(Numb, xxiii. 10.) .59
SERMON VIII. IX.
Upon Resentment and Forgiveness of Injuries.
Ye have heard that it hath been said, Thou shalt love thy 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 despitefully use you and persecute you, (Matt. v.
43, 44.) 69. 78
SERMON X.
Upon Self-Deceit.
And Nathan said to David, Thou art the man, (2 Sam. xii. 7.) . - SO
SERMON XL XII.
Upon the Lore of our Neighbour.
And if there be any other commandment, it is briefly comprehended
in this saying, namely, Thou shalt love thy neighbour as thyself,
(Rom. xiii. 9.) 102.117
SERMON XIII. XIV.
Upon Piety, or the love of God.
Thou shalt love the Lord thy God with all thy heart, and with all
thy soul, and with all thy mind, (Matt. xxii. 37.) . . 131. 140
SERMON XV.
Upon the Ignorance of Man.
When I applied 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
CONTENTS.
Page
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, (Eccles. viii. 16, 17.) .
SERMONS PREACHED ON PUBLIC OCCASIONS.
SERMON I.
Freadied before the Society for Propagating the Gospel.
And this gospel of the kingdom shall be preached in all the world,
for a witness unto aU nations, (Matt. xxiv. 14.)
SERMON II.
Preached before the Lord Mayor, Aldermen, and Sheriff's, and the Go
vernors of tfo several Hospitals of the city of London.
The rich and poor meet together : the Lord is the Maker of them all,
(Prov. xxii. 2.) ... -174
SERMON III.
Preached before the House of Lords, Jan. 30, 1740-41.
And not using your liberty for a cloak of maliciousness, but as the
servants of God, (1 Pet. ii. 16.) - 188
SERMON IV.
Preached at the Annual Meeting of the Charity Children at Chrut-Cbtrclt.
Train up a child in the way he should go ; and when he is old he will
not depart from it, (Prov. rrii. 6.^ . . ... 203
VI CONTENTS.
SERMON V.
Preached before the Home of Lords on tfte Anniversary of his Majesty's
Accession to the Throne.
Page
I exhort, that first of all, supplications, prayers, intercessions, and giv
ing of thanks, be made for all men : for kings, and for all that are
in authority ; that we may lead a quiet and peaceable life, in all if
godliness and honesty, (1 Tim. ii. 1, 2.) 218
SERMON VI.
Preached before the Governors of the London Infirmary.
And above all things have fervent charity among yourselves : for
charity shall cover the multitude of sins, (1 Pet. iv. 8.) . . 227
A CHARGE to the CLERGY of DURHAM 242
CORRESPONDENCE between DR. BUTLER and DR. CLARKE . 261
PREFACE,
THOUGH 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 like and they
dislike : but whether that which is proposed 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 gene
rality 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 kind of reasons ; there are, even of the
few who read for their own entertainment, 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
life ? is lost out of the world.
For the sake of this whole class of readers, for they are
of different capacities, different kinds, and get into this 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.
Vlll PREFACE.
The great number of books and papers of amusement,
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 say
ing, 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, become fa
tigue ; and to lay any thing before them that requires it, is
putting them quite out of the way.
There are also persons, and there are at Iqast 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.
It is true, indeed, that few persons have a right to de
mand attention ; but it is also true, that nothing can be un
derstood without that degree of it, which the very nature of
the thing requires. Now morals, considered as a science,
concerning which speculative 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 place 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 argu
ment 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 appre
hended. It is very unallowable for a work of imagination
or entertainment not to be of easy comprehension, but may
be unavoidable in a work af 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 following dis
courses are very abstruse and difficult ; or, if you please,
obscure : but I must take leave to add, that those alone are
PREFACE. IX
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 as
serting that they could not.
Thus much however will be allowed, that general criti
cisms concerning obscurity, considered as a distinct 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 understood with the same ease that some
things are. Confusion 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 thoughts 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 a 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 inexcus
able. 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 subject. This will create a difficulty of a
very peculiar 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 comprehen
sion, and as the best auditories are mixed, 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 ac
count of my doing either. He must not, however, impute
to me, as a repetition of the impropriety, this second edi
tion,* but to the demand for it.
* The Preface stands exactly as it did before the second edition of the
Sermons.
A 3
PREFACE.
he will think he has any amends made him, by
the following illustrations of what seemed most to require
them, I myself am hy no means a proper judge.
There are two. ways in which the subject of morals may
be treated. One begins from inquiring into the abstract
; relations of things ; tie other, from a matter of fact, namely,
what the particular nature of man is, its several parts, their
Jj. economy or constitution : from whence it proceeds to de
termine what course of life it is, which is correspondent to
0 \ this whole nature. In the former method the conclusion is
* expressed thus, that vice is contrary to the nature and
reasons of things ; in the latter, that it is a violation or
breaking in upon our own nature. Thus they both lead
us to the same thing, our obligations to the practice of vir
tue ; 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 peculiar manner adapted to satisfy a fair
mind, 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 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 show that the assertion is
O true. That the ancient moralists had some inward feeling
or other, which they chose to express in this manner, that
man is born to virtue, that it consists in following nature,
and that vice is more contrary to this nature than tortures
or death, their works in our hands are instances. Now, a
person who found no mystery in this way of speaking of
the ancients ; who, without being very explicit with himself,
kept to this 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 won
der to see a point, in which he never perceived any diffi
culty, so laboured as this is, in the second and third ser
mons ; insomuch, perhaps, as to be at a loss for the occasion,
scope, and drift of them. But it need not be thought
strange, that this manner of expression, though familiar
with them, and if not usually carried so far, yet not un
common amongst ourselves, should want explaining ; since
there are several perceptions daily felt and spoken of, which
PREFACF. XI
yet it may not be very easy at first view to explicate, to
distinguish from all others, and ascertain exactly what the
idea or perception is. The many treatises upon the pas
sions 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 show was obvious to every
one who felt and talked of those passions. Thus though
there seems no ground to doubt, but that the generality of
mankind have the inward perception expressed so com
monly in that manner by the ancient moralists, more than
to doubt whether they have those passions, yet it appeared
of use to unfold 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 mis
took the whole thing, and so had great reason to express
themselves dissatisfied with it. A late author, of great and
deserved reputation, says, that to place virtue in following
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 par
ticular nature, or particular any thing ; and he will, I sup
pose, 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 even,' 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. Let 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
. if these several parts, unless he considers the respect and
* Religion of Nature Delineated. Ed. 1724. Pages 22, 23.
XIV
PREFACE.
. as brute creatures have ; some leading most directly and
' immediately to the good of the community, and some most
directly to private good.
Man has several which brutes have not ; particularly re
flection or conscience, an approbation of some principles or
0 actions, anoT disapprobation of others.
Brutes obey their instincts or principles of action, ac
cording to certain rules ; suppose the constitution of their
body, and the objects around them.
The generality 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 "body, and the external circum
stances which they are in. [Therefore it is not a true
representation of mankind, to affirm that they are wholly
governed by self-love, the love of power and sensual ap
petites : 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 friendship, compas
sion, 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
Q 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 toler
able order in which it is.]
^ 0 Brutes, in acting according to the rules before men-
^ ' tioned, their bodily constitution and circumstances, act
suitably to their whole nature. [It is however to be dis
tinctly noted, that the reason 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 thing else in their nature, which requires a dif-
Mfereht rule or course of action.]
N Mankind also, in acting thus, would act suitably to
v 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
PREFACE. XV
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 ade
quate 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 absolute direction of them all, to allow or for
bid their gratification ; a disapprobation of reflection being
in itself a principle manifestly superior to a mere propen-
sion. 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 circumstances 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 consti
tution of nature, unless he allows to that superior principle
the absolute authority which is due to it. And this con
clusion is abundantly confirmed from hence, that one may
determine what course of action the economy of man's na
ture requires, 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 na
tural authority of the principle of reflection or conscience
is, that it seems in a great measure overlooked by many,
who are by no means the worst sort of men. It is thought
sufficient to abstain from gross wickedness, and to be hu
mane and kind to such as happen to come in their way.
Whereas, in reality, the very constitution of our nature re
quires, that we bring our whole conduct before this superior
faculty ; wait its determination ; enforce upon ourselves
its authority ; and make it the business of our lives as it
is absolutely the whole business of a moral agent, to con
form ourselves to it. This is the true meaning of that
ancient precept, Reverence thyself.
The not taking into consideration the authority, which
is implied in the idea of reflex approbation or disappro
bation, seems a material deficiency or omission in Lord
Shaftesbury' s Inquiry concerning Virtue. He has shown,
beyond all contradiction, that virtue is naturally the in-
XV1 PREFACE.
SS< and.™e the "i*ay of such a creature
, placed in the circumstances which we are in this
id. But suppose there are particular exceptions- a
case which this author was unwilling to put, and Pyet Trdy
it s 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^e-
termmation is, that it would be without remedy* One mav
say more explicitly, that, leaving out the authority of re-
lex approbation or disapprobation, such an one would be
under an obligation to act viciously ; since interest, one's
own happiness, ,s a manifest obligation, and there is not sup
posed to be any other obligation in the case. " But does it
rXfime" T\ mat,teV° take in that natural authority of
^ /„ Th7?m<kedw°uldbeanobligationtovirtue;bUt
would not the obligation from supposed interest on the side
ISr • If,il Should' ye* to <« under two contrary
obhgations ,. ,. under none ,t a]j woul(J £
he same as to be under a formal obligation to be vicious or
ratureln^TStanCeS *? ^ the constit«^n of man's
nature plainly required, that vice should be preferred
But the obligation on the side of interest really does no
remain. For the natural authority of the principle of re
flection, ^ an obhgation 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 Ms
mterest in the present world, much less can he be certain
against another. And thus the certain obligation wou
entirely supersede and destroy the uncertain "one™ h
yet would have been of real force without the former
J ith, the taking in this consideration totally changes
L± StSte "I*6 CaS6' and shows' what M* »tho
does not seem to have been aware of, that the greatest de-
men ^7^™^^ thoughtpossible, will stiU leave
men under the strictest moral obligations, whatever their
opinion be concerning the happine,". of virtue. For Tha
ZoA IT" ^f^11' felt an W^bation of what was
good, and disapprobation of the contrary, he thought a plain
buat from ' alitundoubtedly-. which none c?uld den"
andobT Tre af?Ctat!°n- Take in' then- that authority
bhgahon, which is a constituent part of this reflex
* Characteristics, vol. ii. p. 69.
PREFACE.
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 obligation to
the practice of virtue ; an obligation implied in the very
I idea of virtue, in the very idea of reflex approbation.
And how little influence soever this obligation alone can
be expected to have, in fact, upon mankind, yet one may
appeal even to interest and self-love, and ask, since from
man's nature, condition, and the shortness of life, so little,
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 self-condemned, and,
unless he has corrupted his nature, without real self-dislike ?
This question, I say, may be asked, even upon suspicion
that the prospect of a future life were ever so uncertain.
The observation that man is thus, by his very nature, a
law to himself, pursued to its just consequences, is of the
utmost importance ; because from it will follow, that though
men should, through stupidity, 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 punish
ment, 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 presumptuous to assert, that the end of di
vine punishment is no other than that of civil punishment —
namely, to prevent further mischief; upon this bold sup
position, ignorance or disbelief of the sanction would by
no means exempt even from this injustice ; because it is
not foreknowledge of the punishment which renders obnox
ious to it, but merely violating a known obligation.
And here it comes in one's way to take notice of a ma
nifest error, or mistake, in the author now cited, unless,
perhaps, he has incautiously expressed himself so as to be
misunderstood — namely, that "it is malice only, and not
goodness, which 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
* Characteristics, vol. i. p. 39.
PREFACE.
of justice, there is plainly ground for the greatest of crimes
to hope for impunity ; but if it be goodness, there can be
no possible hope, whilst the reason of things, or the ends
of government, call for punishment. Thus, every one sees
how much greater chance of impunity 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 be
the interest 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. Conse
quently, 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 pu
nishments (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 upon
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, owing to the self-partiality, self-flattery, and self-
deceit endeavoured there'to be laid open and explained. 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 propor
tion 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 admoni
tions they contain may be as much wanted by such a per
son as by others ; for it is to be noted, that a man may be
entirely possessed by this unfairness of mind, without hav
ing the least speculative 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 'assertion, that injury is the only natural
object of settled resentment ; or that men do not, in fact,
resent deliberately any thing but under this appearance of
injury. But I must desire the reader not to take any
PREFACE. XIX
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. Par
ticularly 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 contempt, scorn,
neglect, any sort of disagreeable behaviour towards a per
son, which he thinks other than what is due to him. And
the general notion of injury, or wrong, plainly compre
hends this, though the words are mostly confined to the
higher degrees of it.
Forgiveness of injuries is one of the very few moral ob
ligations which has been disputed. But the proof that it
is really an obligation, what our nature, and condition re
quire, seems very obvious, were it only from the consider
ation, that revenge is doing harm merely for harm's sake.
And as to the love of our enemies : resentment cannot
supersede the obligations 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 Savi
our has insisted more upon it than upon any other single
virtue. One reason of this, doubtless, is, that it so pecu
liarly becomes an imperfect, faulty creature. But it may
be observed also, that a virtuous temper of mind, con
sciousness of innocence, and good meaning towards every
body, and a strong feeling of injustice and injury, may, it
self, such is the imperfection of our virtue, lead a person to
violate this obligation, if he be not upon his guard. And
it may be well supposed, that this is another reason why it
is so much insisted upon by him, who knew what was in
man.
The chief design of the eleventh discourse, is to state
the- notion of self-love and disinterestedness, in order to
show that benevolence is not more unfriendly to self-love
than any other particular affection whatever. There is a
strange attectution in many people in explaining away all
particular alti-ctions, and representing the whole of life as
nothing but one continued exercise of self-love. Hence
arises that surprising confusion and perplexity in the Epi-
XX PREFACE.
cureans* of old, Hobbs, the author of Refections, 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 gratification of a present passion. Now, all this
confusion might easily be avoided, by stating to ourselves
wherein the idea of self-love in general consists, as distin
guished from all particular movements towards particular
external objects ; the appetites of sense, resentment, com
passion, curiosity, 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 sel
fishness. 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 somewhat
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 prefer
ence of his own.
Self-love and any particular passion may be joined to
gether ; and from this complication, it becomes impossible,
in numberless instances, to determine 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 need only look into Torquatus's account of the Epicurean system,
in Cicero's first book De Finibus, 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 Reflections, &c. Morales, says, " curiosity proceeds 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 passions in mankind,
as desire of esteem, or of being beloved, or of knowledge. Hobbs' account
of the affections of good-will and pity, are instances of the same kind.
PREFACE. XXI
one or the other influences us. And though, from this
uncertainty, it cannot but be, 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 regard to it throughout 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 them
selves, and a considerable part of life is spent in the actual
gratification of them ; a. e. is employed, not by self-love,
but by the passions.
Besides, the very idea of an interested pursuit, neces
sarily presupposes particular passions or appetites ; since
the very idea of interest, or happiness, consists in this, that
an appetite, or affection, enjoys its object. It is not be
cause 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 ;
no end, or object, for it to pursue, excepting only that of
avoiding pain. Indeed, the Epicureans, who maintained
that absence of pain was the highest happiness, might, con
sistently with themselves, deny all 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 neces
sary to constitute that interest or happiness.
The observation, that benevolence is no more disinterest
ed 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 faces of
people, who are said to know the world, when mention is
made of a disinterested, generous, or public-spirited action.
The truth of that observation might be made appear in a
more formal manner of proof: For, whoever will consider
all 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 par-
XX11 PREFACE.
ticular affection whatever, but that it is, in every respect,
as least as friendly to it.
If the observation be true, it 'follows, that self-love and
benevolence, virtue and interest, are not 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, in
terested, or disinterested, may be applied to them, any
more than that any other indifferent epithet, suppose in
quisitive or jealous, may, or may not, be applied to them ;
not from their being attended with present or future plea
sure 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 action is morally good or
evil, before we so much as consider, whether it be interested
or disinterested. This consideration no more comes in to
determine, whether an action be virtuous, than to deter
mine 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 de
gree of weakness, and so be blamable. And disinterested
ness is so far from being in itself commendable, that the
utmost possible depravity, which we can in imagination
conceive, 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 imagi
nation, every curiosity of the understanding, every affection
of the heart, is perpetually showing its weakness, by pre
vailing over it. Men daily, hourly, sacrifice the greatest
c known interest to fancy, inquisitiveness, love or hatred, any
vagrant 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 enough ; but that they
have so little to the good of others. And this seems
plainly owing to their being so much engaged in the gra
tification of particular passions unfriendly to benevolence,
v and which happen to be most prevalent in them, much
PREFACE.
more than to self-love. As a proof of this it may be ob
served, that there is no character more void of friendship,
gratitude, natural affectation, love to their country, com
mon justice, 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 dis
tress, and so are interrupted by it in their pleasures. And
yet it is ridiculous to call such an abandoned course of
pleasure interested, when the person engaged in it knows /
beforehand, and goes on under the feeling and apprehen
sion, 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 happiness they were capa
ble of attaining for themselves in this life ; and if self-love
were so strong and prevalent, as that they would uni
formly 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 religious, or
even moral institution of life. Yet with all the mistakes
men would fall into about interest, it would be less mis
chievous 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 nor
nu-asure, 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 affections 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 pur
sued as an end, eligible in and for itself. For, if there be f
any principles or affections in the mind of man distinct
from self-love, that the things those principles tend towards,
or that the objects of those affections are, each of them, in ,
tlu-iiiselves 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. They indeed asserted much
XXIV PREFACE.
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 whatever.
The question which was a few years ago disputed in
France, concerning the love of God, which was there called
enthusiasm, as i£ 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, necessarily
implies resting in its object as an end.
I shall 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 crea
tures, 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 ; who is more intimately present to us
than any thing 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 movements 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, with
all our heart, and with all our mind, and with all our soul,
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
regards themselves are most just and reasonable, and ab
solutely 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 connexion be
tween them, than that uniformity of thought and design,
which will always be found in the writings of the same
person, when he writes with simplicity and in earnest.
STANHOPE, Sept. 16, 1729.
SERMON L
UPON HUMAN NATURE.
For as we have many members in one body, and all members
have not the same office ; so ive, being many, are one body
in Christ, and every one members one of another. — ROM.
xii. 4, 5.
THE 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 thoroughly understood, unless that con-
diti n 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 Christians.
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, 1 Cor. xii., but which are
now totally ceased. And even as to the allusion, that " we
are one body in Christ," though what the apostle here in
tends is equally true of Christians in all circumstances ; and
the consideration of it is plainly still an additional motive,
over and above moral considerations, to the discharge of the
several duties and offices of a Christian ; yet it is manifest
this allusion must have appeared with much greater force to
2 SERMON I.
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, \vho had under
gone the same ; to those, who from the idolatries of all
around them, and their ill-treatment, were taught to con
sider themselves as not of the world in which they lived,
but as a distinct society of themselves ; with laws, and ends,
and principles of life c.nd action, quite contrary to those
which the world professed themselves at that time influenced
by. Hence the relation of a Christian was by them con
sidered as nearer than that of affinity 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 motives which arise from the peculiar rela
tions of Christians, as members one of another, under
Christ our head. However, though all this be allowed, as
it expressly is by the inspired writers, yet it is manifest,
that Christians, at the time of the Revelation, and imme
diately after, could not but insist mostly upon considerations
of this latter kind.
These observations show the original particular reference
of 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 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 which each particular 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
UPON HUMAN NATURE. 3
relations, the consequence is obvious : That the latter shows
us we" were intended to do good to others, as the former
shows 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 comparison be carried to any length. And
since the apostle speaks of the several members .as having
distinct offices, which implies the mind, it cannot be thought
an allowable liberty, instead of the body and its members, to
substitute the whole nature of man, and all the variety oj
internal principles which belong to it. And then the com
parison 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 I » *e
inconsistent, that they mutually promote each other ; yet, in
the following 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 no comparison be made, without considering the 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, that there are as real and the same kind of indi
cations in human nature, that we were made for society
and to do good to our fellow-creatures, as that we were
intended to take care of our own life, and health, and private
good; and that the same objections lie against one of these
assertions an against the other. For,
First, Tlun is a natural principle of benevolence* in
* Suppose a man of learning to be writing a grave book upon human
nature, and to bhow in several parts of it that he had an insight into the
B 2
4 SERMON I.
! man which is in some degree to society, what self-love is
I to the individual And if there be in mankind any dispo
sition to friendship ; if there be any such thing as compas
sion, for compassion is momentary 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 the
subject he was considering; amongst other things, the following one would
require to be accounted for; the appearance of benevolence 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 philoso;.
pher was contemplating and accounting for some other human actions, some
other behaviour of man to man ? And could any one be thoroughly satisfied,
that what is commonly called benevolence or good-will was really the affec
tion 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? That what has this appearance, is often nothing
but ambition ; that delight in superiority often (suppose always) mixes itself
with benevolence, only makes it more specious to call it ambition than
hunger, of the two : but in reality that passion does no more account for
the whole appearance 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
tkird person ? And can love of power any way possibly come in to account
for this desire or delight ? Is nere not often the appearance of men's dis
tinguishing between two or more persons, preferring one before another,
to do good to, in cases where love of power cannot in the least account for the
distinction 'and preference ? For this principle can no otherwise distinguish
between objects, than as it is a greater instance and exertion of power to do
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 considerations; but these
restraints being removed, they would have a disposition to, and delight in
mischief, as an exercise and proof of power : And this disposition and de
light would 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 resent-
[* Hobbs of Human Nature, c. 2. § 17.]
UPON HUMAN NATURE.
love of another. Be it ever so short, be it ever so low
a degree, or ever so unhappily confined ; it proves the as
sertion, 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 di
rectly to public good, and the latter to private ; yet they
are so perfectly coincident, that the greatest satisfactions to
ment, 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, merelv an accidental circumstance, which the mind has not the
Jcast regard to. These are the absurdities which even men of capacity run
into, when they have occasion to belie their nature, and will perversely dis
claim that image of God which was originally stamped upon it ; the traces
of which, however faint, are plainly discernible 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 extensiveness of it, but concerning the affection itself,) let it be
observed, that whetlier man be thus or otherwise constituted, whut istlie inward
frame in this particular, is a mere question of fact or natural history, not
provable immediately by reason. It is therefore to be judged of and deter
mined in the same way other facts or matters of natural history arc : By
appealing 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 of the
same kind, in different circumstances, and respecting different objects, will
prove, to a certainty, what principles they do not, and, to the greatest
probability, what principles they do proceed from : And, lastly, by the
testimony of mankind. Now, that there is some degree of benevolence
amongst men, may be as strongly and plainly proved in all these ways as it
could possibly be proved, supposing there was this affection in our nature.
And should any one think fit to assert, that resentment in the mind of man
was absolutely nothing but reasonable concern for our own safety, the falsity
of this, and what is the real nature of that passion, could be shown in no
other ways than those in which it may be shown, that there is such a thing
in some decree 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.
6 SERMON I.
ourselves depend upon our having benevolence in a due
O degree ; and that self-love is one chief security of our right
behaviour towards society. It may be added, that their
mutual coinciding, so that we can scarce promote one with
out the other, is equally a proof that we were made for both.
Secondly. This will further appear from observing, that
the several passions and affections^ which are distinct,* both
from benevolence and self-love, do in general contribute
and lead us to public good as really as to private. It might
be thought too minute and particular, and would carry us
* Every body makes a distinction between self-love, and the several par
ticular 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 themselves 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 tJiemsehes, 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 suppos-
able, there may be creatures with self-love in them to the highest degree
who may be quite insensible and indifferent (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 another 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 passion. 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 par
ticular 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 into each other.
The distinction is further explained in the eleventh sermon.
UPON HUMAN NATURE. 7
too great a length, to distinguish between, and compare to
gether the several passions or appetites, distinct from bene
volence, whose primary use and intention is the security
and good of society ; and the passions distinct from self-
love, whose primary intention and design is the security
and good of the individual.* 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 successful vice, that
these are public affections or passions, have an immediate
respect to others, naturally lead us to regulate our beha
viour in such a manner as will be of service to our fellow-
creatures. If any or all of these may be considered like
wise as private affections, 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
tendency to public good. It may be added, that as persons
without any conviction from reason of the desirableness of
life, would yet, of course, preserve it merely from the appe
tite of hunger ; so, by acting merely from regard (suppose)
to reputation, without any consideration of the good of
others, men often contribute to public good. In both these
instances, they are plainly instruments in the hands of an
other, in the hands of Providence, to carry on ends, the
preservation of the individual and good of society, which
* If any desire to see this distinction and comparison 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 it the preservation of the individual. Desire of esteem is a public
passion ; because the end for which it was given us is to regulate our beha
viour towards society. The respect which this has to private good is as re
mote as the respect that it has to public good ; and the appetite 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 gratified, without contributing to the good of society,
than the former can be gratified, without contributing to the preservation of
the individual.
SERMON I.
they themselves have not in their view or intention. The
sum is, men have various appetites, passions, and parti
cular affections, quite distinct both from self-love and from
benevolence ; all of these have a tendency to promote both
public and private good, and may be considered as respect
ing others and ourselves 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 re
spect 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 indi
vidual and the species, and proofs that he intended we
should be instruments of good to each other, as well as that
we should be so to ourselves.
Thirdly. There is a principle of reflection in men, by
which they distinguish between, approve, and disapprove
their own actions. We are plainly constituted 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, passions, affections, as respecting such objects,
and in such degrees, and of the several actions consequent
thereupon. In this survey it approves of one, disapproves
of another, and towards a third is affected in neither of
these ways, but is quite indifferent. This principle in man,
1 1 ky which he approves or disapproves his heart, temper, and
1 1 actions, is conscience ; For this is the strict sense of the
* word," though' sometimes it is used so as to take in more.
And that this faculty tends to restrain men from doing-
mischief to each other, and leads them to do good, is too
manifest 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,
UPON HUMAN NATURE. 9
becomes a much more settled principle, and carries him on
through more labour and difficulties for the sake of his
O
children, than he would undergo for that affection alone, if
he thought it, and the course of action it led to, either in
different 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 ac
tions of others, which they will not imitate, and likewise do
that which they approve not. It cannot possibly be denied,
that there is this principle of reflection or conscience in
human nature. Suppose a man to relieve an innocent per
son 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 circumstances 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 conse
quences to himself;— to assert that any common man would
be affected in the same way towards these different actions,
that he would make no distinction between them, but ap
prove or disapprove them equally, is too glaring a falsity
to need being confuted. There is therefore this principle of
reflection or conscience in mankind. It is needless to com- \ J
pare the respect it has to private good, with the respect it l
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 _pf 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 par
ticular place assigned to it by nature, what authority it has,
;ind how great influence it ought to have, shall be hereafter
considered.
From this comparison of benevolence and self-love, of
"B 3
10 SERMON I.
our public and private affections, 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 were,
made for society, and to promote the happiness of it ; as that
ive were intended to take care of our own life, and health,
for private good.
And from this whole review must be given a different
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 affections tend to, and rest in ; and mani
fest that they find real satisfaction and enjoyment in this
course of behaviour. There is such a natural principle of
attraction in man towards man, that having trod the same
track 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
purpose. Thus, relations, merely .nominal, are sought and
invented, not by governors, but by the lowest of the people ;
which are found sufficient to hold mankind together in
little fraternities and copartnerships : weak ties indeed, and
what may afford fund enough for ridicule, if they are ab
surdly 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 ac
cording to its own previous bent and bias ; which occasions,
therefore, would be nothing at all, were there not this prior
disposition and bias of nature. Men are so much one
body,1 that in a peculiar manner they feel for each other,
shame, sudden danger, resentment, honour, prosperity, dis
tress : one or another, or all of these, from the social nature
UPON HUMAN, 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 restraint from, nor regard to others in our beha
viour, is the speculative absurdity of considering ourselves
as single and independent, as having nothing in our nature
which has respect to our fellow-creatures, reduced to action
and practice. And this is the same absurdity, as to sup
pose 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, which 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 instru
ments of to each other?" These questions, as far as they
relate to the foregoing discourse, may be answered by ask
ing, " Has not man also dispositions and principles within,
which lead him to do evil to himself, as well as good?
whence come the many miseries else, sickness, pain, and
death, which men are the 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 ungoverned 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
siu-h 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, ingratitude; but only
eager desires after such and such external goods ; which,
according to a very ancient observation, the most abandoned
would choose to obtain by innocent means, if they were
as easy, and as effectual to their end : that even emulation
and resentment, by any one who will consider what these
12 SERMON I.
passions really are in nature,* will be found nothing to the
purpose of this objection ; and that the principles and pas
sions in the mind of men, which are distinct both from self-
love and benevolence, 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 villany, are some
times 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 consequence 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 to
wards their fellow- creatures ; there are likewise instances
of persons without the common natural affections to them-
j selves : but the nature of man is not to be judged of by
\ either of these, but what appears in the common world, in
V the bulk of mankind.
I am afraid it would be thought very strange, if, to con
firm the truth of this account of human nature, and make
out the justness of the foregoing comparison, it should be
added, that from what appears, men, in fact, as much and
as often contradict that part of their nature which respects
* Emulation is merely the desire and hope of equality with, or superi
ority over others, with whom we compare ourselves. There does not appear
to be any oilier grief in the natural passion, but only that want, which is
implied in desire. However, this may be so strong as to be the occasion of
great grief. To desire the attainment of this equality, or superiority, by
the particular 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, that the real end which the natural passion, emulation, and which
the unlawful one, envy, aims at, is exactly the same ; namely, that equal
ity or superiority ; 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.
UPON HUMAN NATURE.
self, and which leads them to their own private good and
happiness, as they contradict that part of it which respects
society, and tends to public 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 general, the good and bad, almost without
exception, 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 reflection made upon pru
dence, life, conduct, but upon this supposition. Yet, on
the contrary, that persons in the greatest affluence of for
tune 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 un
timely deaths occasioned by a dissolute course of life ; these
things are all seen, acknowledged, by every one acknow
ledged ; but are thought no objections against, though they
expressly contradict this universal principle, that the hap
piness of the present life consists in one or other of them.
Whence is all this absurdity and contradiction ? Is not the
middle way obvious ? Can any thing be more manifest,
than that the happiness of life consists in these, possessed
and enjoyed only to a certain degree ; that to pursue them
beyond this degree, is always attended with more inconve
nience than advantage to man's self, and often with ex
treme misery and unhappiness ? Whence, then, I say, is
all this absurdity and contradiction ? Is it really the result
of consideration in mankind, 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 mani
festly owing either to this, that they have not cool and rea-
14 SERMON 1.
sonable concern enough for themselves to consider wherein
their chief happiness in the present life consists ; 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, 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 directly 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 right 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 in
consistent 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 II, III,
UPON HUMAN NATURE.
For when the Gentiles, which have not the law, do by nature
the things contained in the law, these having not the law,
are a law unto themselves. — ROMANS ii. 14.
As speculative truth admits of different kinds of proof,
so likewise moral obligations may be shown by different
methods. If the real nature of any creature leads him, j
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 complex any constitution is, and the greater
variety of parts 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 common to the species;
and, above all, that the highest principle be not forgot or
excluded, that to which belongs the adjustment and cor
rection of all other inward movements and affections : which
principle will of course have some influence, but which,
being in nature supreme, as shall now be shown, 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
16 SERMON II.
respect to this faculty, with respect to their natural sense of
moral good and evil ; and the attention necessary to survey
with an 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, therefore, ground for an attempt of
showing men to themselves, of showing them what course
of life and behaviour their real nature points out, and would
lead them to. Now, obligations of virtue shown, and mo
tives 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 cog
nisable 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 optics, deduced from
ocular experiments. And allowing the inward feeling,
shame ; a man can as little doubt whether it was given him
to prevent his doing shameful actions, as he can doubt
whether his eyes were given him to guide his steps. And
as to these inward feelings themselves ; that they are
real — that man has in his nature passions and affections, •
can no more be questioned, 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 in the heart of man, carry him
UPON HUMAN NATURE. 17
to society, and to contribute to the happiness of it, in a
sense and a manner in which no inward principle leads him
to evil. These principles, propensions, 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 be
nevolence or reflection happening to be stronger than other
principles, passions, or appetites ; but likewise, that the
whole character be fanned upon thought and reflection ;
that every action be directed by some determinate rule,
some other rule than the strength and prevalency of any
principle or passion. What 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 ? or how does
so various and fickle a temper as that of man appeal-
adapted thereto ? It may indeed be absurd and unnatural
for men to act without any reflection ; nay, without regard
to that particular kind of reflection which you call conscience :
because this does belong to our nature. For, as there never
was a man but who approved one place, prospect, building,
before another ; so it does not appear that there ever was a
man who would not have approved an action of humanity |1
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 con
science. 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, a particular instinct, which for the present is
strongest in them ; does not man likewise act agreeably to
18 SERMON II.
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 ? 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 uncommon degree to kind
ness, compassion, doing good to their fellow-creatures ; as
there are others who are given to suspend their judgment,
to weigh and consider things, and to act upon thought and
reflection. Let every one then quietly follow his nature ;
as passion, reflection, appetite, the several parts of it, happen
to be the 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 contained in the law, so in other cases we follow na
ture in doing contrary."
Now, all this licentious talk entirely goes upon a suppo
sition, 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 temptation to the contrary. And
if this were true, that could not be so which St. Paul asserts,
that men are " by nature a law to themselves." If by fol
lowing 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 following 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 dis
tinction, that, according to them, the perfection of virtue
consists therein. So that language itself should teach
people another sense to the words following nature, than
barely acting as we please. Let it however be observed,
UPON HUMAN NATURE. 19
though the words human nature are to be explained, yet
the real question of this discourse is not concerning the
meaning of words, any otherwise than as the explanation
of them may be needful to make out and explain the as
sertion, that every man is naturally a law to himself, that
every one may find within himself the rule of right, and
obligations to follow 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 showing in what view it
is considered, and in what sense the word is used, when
intended 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, na
ture cannot be, but that in another sense it manifestly 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 natural. And as
the same person hath often contrary principles, which 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, who were dead in trespasses and sins, and walked
according to the spirit of disobedience, that they were by
nature the children of wrath. Eph. ii. 3. They could be
20 SERMON II.
no otherwise children of wrath by nature, than they were
vicious by nature.
Here then are two different senses of the word nature,
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 ob
jection, with another sense of it, which is now to be in
quired after and explained.
III. The apostle asserts, that the Gentiles do by nature
the things contained in the law. Nature is indeed here put
by way of distinction from revelation, but yet it is not a
mere negative. He intends to express more than that by
which they did not, thaft by which they 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 the 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 law to himself, is explained in the following
words : which shows the work of the law written in their
hearts, their consciences also bearing witness, and their
thoughts the meanwhile accusing or else excusing one another.
If there be a distinction to be made between the works
written in their hearts, and the witness of conscience ; by
the former must be meant, the 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 ; and since we have no method of seeing the par- .
UPON HUMAN NATURE. 21
ticular decrees 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 there is a superior principle of reflection :
or conscience in every man, which distinguishes between
the internal principles of his heart, as well as his external
actions ; which 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, accordingly ; and which,
if not forcibly stopped, naturally and always of course
goes on to anticipate a higher and more effectual sentence,
which shall hereafter second and affirm its own. But this
part of the office of conscience is beyond my present design
explicitly to consider. It is by this faculty natural to man,
that he is a moral agent, that he is a law to himself: by
this faculty, I say, not to be considered merely as a prin
ciple 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 affec
tions of our mind, and actions of our lives, being that by
which men are a law to themselres, their conformity, or dis
obedience 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 inclination
v/hich 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
22 SERMON II.
the bent of his nature, leading him to gratify his appetite :
there is an entire correspondence between his whole nature
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 dis
proportion between the nature of 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 conse
quences, but from comparison of it with the nature of the
agent. And since such an action is utterly disproportion
ate to the nature of man, it is in the strictest and most
proper sense unnatural ; this word expressing that dispro
portion. Therefore, instead of the words disproportionate 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 unna
tural ? It is that he went against the principle of reason
able and cool self-love, considered merely as a part of his
nature ? 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 pre
sent appetite, from foresight that the gratification of it
would end in immediate 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
against that principle or desire barely, nor in going against
that principle or desire which happens for the present to be
strongest ; it necessarily follows, that there must be some
other difference or distinction to be made between these two
principles, passion and cool self-love, than what I have yet
UPON HUMAN NATURE. 23
taken notice of. And this difference, not being a differ
ence in strength or degree, I call a difference in nature and
in kind. And since, in the instance still before us, if pas
sion prevails over self-love, the consequent action is unna
tural ; but if setf-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 conformably to the economy of man's
nature, reasonable self-love must govern. Thus, without
particular consideration of conscience, we may have a clear
conception 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 con
sisting partly of various appetites, passions, affections, and
partly of the principle of reflection of conscience ; leaving
quite out all consideration of the different degrees of
strength, in which either of them prevail ; and it will fur
ther appear, that there is this natural superiority of one
inward principle to another, or that it is even part of the
idea of reflection or conscience.
Passion or appetite implies a direct simple tendency to
wards such and such objects, without distinction of the
means by which they are to be obtained. Consequently,
it will often happen there will be a desire of particular ob
jects, in cases where they cannot be obtained without ma
nifest injury to others. Reflection, or conscience, comes
in, and disapproves the pursuit of them in these circum
stances ; 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 ? or need this all come
into consideration ? Would not the question be intelligibly
and fully answered by saying, that the principle of reflec
tion or conscience being compared with the various appc-
24 SERMON II.
tites, passions, and affections in men, the former is mani
festly superior and chief, without regard to strength ? 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 prevalence 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 go
vernment, here it has been shown 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 considered
as what is in its turn to have some influence ; which may
be said of every passion, of the lowest appetites ; but like
wise 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 judgment, direction, superintendency. This is
a constituent part of the idea, that is, of the faculty itself;
and to preside and govern, from the very economy and con
stitution of man, belongs to it. Had it strength, as it has
right ; had it power, as it has manifest authority, it would
absolutely govern the world.
This gives us a further view of the nature of man ; shows
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 likewise in what degree we
are to be influenced by it, if we will fall in with, and act
agreeably to the constitution of our nature : that this fa
culty was placed within to be our proper governor ; to di
rect and regulate all under principles, passions, and motives
of action. This is its right and office ; thus sacred is its
authority. And how often soever men violate and rebel-
UPON HUMAN NATURE. 25
liously 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 alter
ation as to the natural right 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 su
premacy 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-crea
tures, and the Supreme Being ? What are their bounds, be
sides that of our natural power ? With respect to the two
first, they are plainly no other than these : no man seeks
misery as such for himself: and no one provoked does mis
chief to another for its own sake. For in every degree
within these bounds, mankind knowingly, from passion or
wantonness, bring ruin and misery upon themselves and
others : and impiety and profaneness, I mean what every
one would call so who believes the being of God, have ab
solutely 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 men
tioned, 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 circum
stances 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 difference between in
ward 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 this matter. The action plainly cor-
c
26
SERMON III.
responds to the principle, the principle being in that degree
of strength it was ; it therefore corresponds to the whole na
ture of the man. Upon comparing the action and the whole
nature, there arises no disproportion, there appears no un-
suitableness 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.
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 human nature, when virtue is said to con
sist 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 par
ticular member of the society not coming into the idea :
whereas, if you leave out the subordination, the union, and
the one direction, you destroy and lose it ; so reason, se
veral appetites, passions, and affections, prevailing in dif
ferent degrees of strength, is not that idea or notion of hu
man nature ; but that nature consists in these several prin
ciples 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, instinct, propension within, is a real 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
I TON HfMAX NATURE. 27
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 constitutional
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 to hu
man nature as injustice ; by this, to be sure, is not meant,
that the aversion to the former in mankind 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 eco
nomy of man.*
* Every man, in his physical nature, is one individual single agrnt. He
has likewise properties and principles, each of which may be considered
separately, and without regard to the respects which they have to each other.
Neither of these are the nature we are taking a view of. But it is tin-
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 appetites, passions, and particular affections have to the one supreme
principle of reflection or conscience. The system, or constitution, is foi med
by, and consists in these respects and this subjection. Thus, the body is a
or constitution ; so is a tree; so is every machine. Consider all the
several parts 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
machine be out of order, and yet the system and constitution
of them not totally dissolved. There is plainly somewhat which answers to
•ill this in the moral constitution of man. Whoever will consider his own
nature will see, that the several appetites, passions, and particular affections,
bare different respects among themselves. They arc restraints upon, and
•re in proportion to each other. This proportion is just and perfect, when
under principles arc perfectly coincident with conscience, so far as
their nature permits, and, in all cases, under its absolute and entire direction.
c 2
28 SERMON III.
And from all these things put together, nothing can be
more evident, than that, exclusive of revelation, man can
not be considered as a creature left by his Maker to act at
random, and live at large up to the extent of his natural
power, as passion, humour, wilfulness, happen to carry him ;
which is the condition brute creatures are in ; but that,
/ from liis make, constitution, or nature, he is, in the strictest
and most proper sense, a law to himself. He hath the rule
of right within :/ what is wanting is only that he honestly
j| attend to it.
The inquiries which have been made by men of leisure
alter some general rule, the conformity to, or disagreement
from which, should denominate our actions good or evil,
a iv iu 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 ? I do not in the least doubt but that
tliis question would be answered agreeably to truth and vir
tue, by almost any fair man in almost any circumstance.
Neither do there appear any cases which look like excep
tions 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 a man to judge that to be the equitable,
the moderate, the right part for him to act, which he would
The least excess or defect, the least alteration of the due proportions amongit
themselves, or of their coincidence with conscience, though not proceeding
into action, is some degree of disorder in the moral constitution. But per
fection, though plainly intelligible and supposable, 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, that 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 they often strive for mastery with judgment or reflection ;
yet, since the superiority of this principle 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.
UPON HUMAN NATURE. 29
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 be asked, " What obligations are we
under to attend and follow it ?" I answer : it has been proved,
that man by his nature is a law to himself, without the par
ticular 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
•long with it. Yaur obligation 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 ob
ligation. Conscience does not only otter itself to show us
the way we should walk in, but it likewise carries 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 obeying
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 ? 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 should
we not endeavour to suppress and get over them ?
Thus, people go on with words, which, when applied 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 somewhat quite distinct from regards
to others, and that it is the privilege of vice to be without
:nt or confinement? Whereas, on the contrary, the
30 SERMON III.
enjoyments, 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 should 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 likewise 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 conscience, 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 confine
ment. 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 satisfaction than
uneasiness, and get over only those which bring more un
easiness 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, resentment,
yields greater delight than meekness, forgiveness, compas
sion and good-will : especially when 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 indulgence of it, by doing good, affords new posi—
UPON HUMAN NATURE. 31
tive delight and enjoyment. Let it not be taken for grant
ed, that the satisfaction arising from the reputation 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
<:an, I say, be no doubt, which temper and which course is
attended with most peace and tranquillity of mind ; which,
with most perplexity, 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 kind
or another to our fellow-creatures. And with respect to
restraint and confinement : whoever will consider the re
straints from fear and shame, the dissimulation, mean arts
erf concealment, servile compliances, one or other of which
belong to almost every course of vice, will soon be con
vinced, that the man of virtue is by no means upon a dis
advantage in this respect. How many instances are there
in which men feel, and own, and cry aloud under the chains
of vice with which they are enthralled, and which yet they
will not shake off? How many instances, in which persons
manifestly go through more pain and self-denial to gratify a
vicious passion, than would have been necessary to* the con
quest 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. It is manifest,
that in the common course of life there is seldom any in-
32 SERMON III,
consistency between our duty and what is called interest i
it is much seldomer that there is an inconsistency between
duty and what is really our present interest : meaning by
interest, happiness and satisfaction. Self-love, then, though
confined to the interests of the present world, does in gene
ral 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 prevail
ing finally over good, under the conduct and administration
of a perfect mind.
The whole argument which I have been now insisting
upon, may be thus summed up and given you in one view.
The nature of man is adapted to some course of action or
other. Upon comparing some actions with this nature,
they appear suitable and correspondent to it : from com •
parison of other actions with the same nature, there arises
to our view some unsuitableness or disproportion. The
correspondence of actions to the nature of the agent, ren
ders them natural ; their disproportion to it, unnatural.
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 disproportionate to the nature of the agent.
The correspondence, therefore, or disproportion, arises from
somewhat else. This can be nothing but a difference in
nature and kind (altogether distinct from strength) be
tween the inward principles. Some, then, are in nature
and kind superior to others. And the correspondence arises
from the action being conformable to the higher principle ;
and the unsuitableness, from its being contrary to it.
Reasonable self-love and conscience 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. Conscience
UPON THE GOVERNMENT OF THE TONGUE.
• and self-love, if we understand our true happiness, always
lead us the same way. — Duty and interest are perfectly co
incident i 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 ad*
ministration of things. Thus, they who have been so wise
; in their generation, as to regard only their own 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 violate his conscience and the
relations of life, has infinitely better provided for himself,
and secured Ms own interest and happiness.
SEBMON IV,
UPON THE GOVERNMENT OF THE TONGUE.
If any man among you seem to be religious, and bridleth
not his tongue, but deceiveth his own heart, this mans
religion is vain. — JAMES i. 26.
THE translation of this text would be more determinate
by being more literal, thus : " If any man among you seemeth
to be religious, not bridling his tongue, but deceiving his
own heart, this man's religion is vain." This determines
that the words, " but deceiveth his own heart," are not put
in opposition to, " seemeth to be religious," but to, " bridleth
not his tongue." The certain determinate meaning of the
text then being, that he who seemeth to be religious and
bridleth not his tongue, but, in that particular, deceivetli
his own heart, this man's religion is vain ; we may observe
somewhat very forcible and expressive 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 be-
c 3
34: SERMON IV.
lieve that he bridleth his tongue : if he puts on any appearr
unce or face of religion, and* yet does not govern his 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 imagine he keeps that unruly faculty in due sub
jection, when, indeed, he does not, whatever the other part
of his life be, his religion is vain ; the government of the
tongue being a most material restraint which virtue lays 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 re
flections 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 sup
posed, in precepts and reflections concerning the govern
ment of the tongue, is not evil-speaking from malice, nor
lying or bearing false witness from indirect selfish designs.
The disposition to these, and the actual vices themselves,
all come under other subjects. The tongue may be em
ployed 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, abstract from the consideration 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 themselves to trifles and
indifferent subjects, and so intend only to be guilty of be
ing impertinent ; but as they cannot go on for ever talking
of nothing, as common matters will not afford a sufficient
rPOX THE GOVERNMENT OF THE TONGUE. 35
Fund for perpetual continued discourse, when subjects of
this kind are exhausted, they will go on to defamation,
scandal, divulging of secrets, their own secrets as well 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
they afterwards wish unsaid; or improper things, which
they had no other end in saying, but only to afford employ
ment 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 circum
stances 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, other
wise than as a means of being heard. The thing is to en
gage your attention ; 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 another. It is like a tor
rent, which must and will flow ; but the least thing imagin
able will first of all give it either this or another direction
— turn it into this or that channel : or like a fire, the na
ture of which, when in a heap of combustible matter, is to
spread and lay waste all around ; but any one of a thou-
36 SERMON IV.
sand little accidents will occasion it to break out first eitlter
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 and blended with
them as it often is. Every faculty and power may be used
as the instrument of premeditated vice and wickedness,
merely as the most proper and effectual 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 com
mand over that faculty, as never to speak but from fore
thought and cool design. Here the crime is injustice and per
jury ; and, strictly speaking, no more belongs to the pre
sent subject, than perjury and injustice in any other way.
But there is such a thing as a disposition to be talking for
its own sake ; from which persons often say any thing good
or bad, of others, merely as a subject of discourse, accord
ing 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 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
slightest kind, and such as would not raise any other re
sentment, yet raises, if I may so speak, the resentment of
the tongue, puts it into a flame, into the most ungovernable
motions. This outrage, when the person it respects is pre
sent, we distinguish in the lower rank of people by a pecu-
UPON THE GOVERNMENT OF THE TONGUE. 37
liar term : and let it be observed, that though the decencies
of behaviour are a little kept, the same outrage and viru
lence, 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 disgusts and offences, 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 importance to so
ciety to be observed ; namely, that praise and dispraise,
a good or bad character, should always be bestowed ac
cording 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 scarce possibly do any good,
and, for the most part, does a world of mischief; and im
plies not only great folly, and a trifling spirit, but 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, chap,
iii. 6. "It is a fire, a world of iniquity; it defileth the
whole body, setteth on fire the course of nature, and is it
self set on fire of hell." This is the faculty or disposition
which we are required 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 " bridleth his tongue," I come now to con
sider.
38 SERMON IV.
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 com
municate our thoughts to each other, in order to carry on
the affairs of the world ; for business, and for our improve
ment in knowledge and learning. But the good Author of
our nature designed us not only necessaries, but likewise
enjoyment 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 conti
nuance of our being. The secondary use of speech is to
please and be entertaining to each other in conversation.
This is in every respect allowable and right ; it unites men
closer in alliances and friendships ; gives us a fellow-feeling
of the prosperity and unhappiness of each other ; and is,
in several respects, serviceable to virtue, and to promote
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 delight, men must have strange
notions of God and of religion, to think that he can be of
fended with it, or that it is any way inconsistent with the
strictest virtue. But the truth is, such sort of conversa
tion, 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 speech re
lates to the one or the other of these ; either to business or
to conversation. As to the former, deceit in the manage
ment 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
UPON THE GOVERNMENT OF THE TONGUE. 39
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 subject 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 neighbour.
If they will observe and keep clear of these, they may be
as free, and easy, and unreserved, as they can desire.
The caution to be given for avoiding these dangers, 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 conversa
tion, 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 ob
servations. And yet these great talkers do not at all speak
from their having any thing to say, as every sentence shows,
but only from their inclination to be talking. Their con
versation is merely an exercise of the tongue ; no other
human faculty has any share in it. It is strange these per
sons can help reflecting, that unless they have in truth a
superior capacity, and are in an extraordinary manner fur
nished for conversation ; if they are entertaining, it is at
their own expense. Is it possible, that it should never come
into people's thoughts to suspect, whether or no it be to their
advantage to show so very much of themselves? " O that
ye would altogether hold your peace ! and it should be your
wisdom," Job xiii. 5. Remember, likewise, 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
40 SERMON IV.
many words to a quiet man." But one would think it
should be obvious to every one, that when they are in com
pany with their superiors of 'any kind, in years, knowledge,
and experience ; when proper and useful subjects are dis
coursed of, which they cannot bear a part in ; that these
are times for silence ; when they should learn to hear, and
be attentive, at least in their turn. It is indeed a very un
happy way these people are in : they in a manner cut them
selves out from all advantage of conversation, 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
consider conversation as an entertainment, as somewhat to
unbend the mind, as a diversion from the cares, the busi
ness, 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 distinguish by conversation, or being
in company. Attention to the continued discourse of one
alone grows more painful, 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 en
joining 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 will be talking, they certainly,
whether they design it or not at first, will go on to scandal
and evil- speaking, and divulging secrets.
UPON THE GOVERNMENT OF THE TONGUE. 41
If it were needful to say any thing further, to persuade
rnen to learn this lesson of silence, one might put them in
mind, how insignificant they render themselves by this ex
cessive talkativeness : insomuch, that if they do chance to
say any thing which deserves to be attended to and re^-
garded, 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 per
sons he is present with ; or from its being an interruption to
conversation 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, exposes the ridiculous part
of this licentiousness of the tongue ; and the other, the
great danger and viciousness of it. " When he that is a
fool walketh by the way side, his wisdom faileth him, and
he saith to every one that he is a fool," Eccles. x. 3.
The other is, " In the multitude of words there wanteth
not sin," Prov. x. 19.
As the government of the tongue, in respect to talking
upon indifferent subjects : after what has been said con
cerning the due government of it in respect 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 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
42 SERMON IV.
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 en-
• tertaining as others, a wise man, even when he desires to
unbend his mind from business, would choose that the
conversation might turn upon somewhat instructive.
The last thing is, the government of the tongue as relat
ing to discourse of the affairs of others, and giving of cha
racters. These are in a manner the same. And, one can
scarce call it an indifferent subject, 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 conversation ; because it
is indeed a subject of a "dangerous nature. Let any one
consider the various interests, competitions, and little mis
understandings which arise among 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 perpetu
ally, 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 one thing will insensibly in
fluence them to speak to the disadvantage of others, even
where there is no formed malice or ill design. Since there
fore it is so hard to enter into this subject without offend
ing, 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 behaviour 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
UPON THE GOVERNMENT OF THE TONGUE. 43
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 observation ; 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 eitlu-r
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 u
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. Secondly, A good man is friendly to his
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 any, 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 farther account how
he came to do so : a just indignation against particular in
stances of villany, where they are great and scandalous : or
to prevent an innocent man from being deceived and be
trayed, 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
44 SERMON IV.
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, Mark xii. 38 — 40, 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 in
clination to tale-bearing, and that eager desire to engage
attention, which is an original disease in some minds ; they
would be in little danger of offending with their tongue,
and would, in a moral and religious sense, have due go
vernment over it.
I will conclude with some precepts and reflections of the
Son of Sirach upon this subject. " Be swift to hear ; and,
if thou hast understanding, answer 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 be hated. A wise man will
hold his tongue, till he see opportunity ; but a babbler and
a fool will regard no time. He that useth many words
shall be abhorred ; and he that taketh to himself authority
therein shall be hated. A backbiting tongue hath dis
quieted many ; strong cities hath it pulled down, and over
thrown the houses of great men. The tongue of a man is
his fall ; but if thou love to hear, thou shalt receive under
standing."
SERMON V,
UPON COMPASSION.
Rejoice with them that do rejoice, and weep with them that
weep. — ROMANS xii. 15.
EVERY 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 affections 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 public or
social capacity. The affections required 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 the interests of
others. For if there be any appetite, or any inward prin
ciple besides self-love ; why may there not be an affection
to the good of our fellow-creatures, and delight from that
46 SERMON V.
affection being gratified, and uneasiness from things going
contrary to it ?*
* There 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 affec
tion of this sort, have taken a pleasant method to solve it ; and tell you, it
is not another you are at all concerned 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 tJiat manifest fact, substitute another,
which is reconcilable to their own scheme. For, does not every body by
compassion mean, an affection, the object of which is another in distress ?
Instead of this, but designing to have it mistaken for this, they speak of an
affection, or passion, the object of which is ourselves, or danger to ourselves.
Hobbs defines pity, imagination, or fiction, of future calamity to ourselves,
proceeding from the sense (he means sight, or knowledge) of another man's
calamity. Thus, fear and compassion would be the same idea, and a fearful
and a compassionate 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 re
commendation to the favour of the bulk of mankind ? Or, is it not plain,
that mere fearlessness (and, therefore, not the contrary) is one of the most
popular qualifications ? This shows that mankind are not affected towards
compassion as fear, but as somewhat totally different.
Nothing would more expose such accounts as these of the affections which
are favourable and friendly to our fellow-creatures, than to substitute the
definitions which this author, and others who follow his steps, give of such
affections, instead of the words by which they are commonly expressed.
Hobbs, after having laid down that pity, or compassion, is only fear for our
selves, goes on to explain the reason why we pity our friends in distress
more than others. Now, substitute the definition instead of the word pity in
this place, and the inquiry will be, why we fear our friends ? &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 com
passionate, to pity, cannot be accommodated to his account of compassion.
The very joining of the words to pity our friends, is a direct contradiction
to his definition of pity : because those words, so joined, necessarily express
that our friends are the objects of the passion ; whereas his definition of it
UPON COMPASSION. 47
Of these two, delight in the prosperity of others, and
compassion for their distresses, the last is felt much more
generally than the former. Though men do not universally
rejoice with all whom they see rejoice, yet, accidental ob
stacles removed, they naturally compassionate all in some
degree whom they see in distress ; so far as they have any
asserts, that ourselves (or danger to ourselves) arc 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 distress, raises greater fear for ourselves than the sight of other
persons in distress. But had he put the thing thus plainly, the fact itself
would have been doubted that the sight of our friends in distress raises in us
greater fear for ourselves, than the siylti of otliers in distress. And, in tin-
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 commission than the sight of otfars in
distress; every one, I say, would have seen that these are not the same, but
two different inquiries ; and, consequently, that fear and compassion are not
the same. Suppose a person to be in real danger, and by some means or
other to have forgotten 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 show an absurdity) to speak of that
sound, or accident, as an object of compassion ; and yet, according to Mr.
Hobbs, our greatest friend in distress is no more to us, no more the object
of compassion, or of any affection in our heart. Neither the one nor the
other raises any emotion in our mind, but only the thoughts of our liable-
ness to calamity, and the fear of it ; and both equally do this. It is right
such sorts of accounts of human nature should be shown 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 HoBiis
of Hum. Nat. c. 9. sec. 10.
There are often three different perceptions, or inward feelings, upon sight
of persons in distress : real sorrow and concern for the misery of our fellow-
creatures ; some degree of satisfaction, from a consciousness of our freedom
from that misery : and as the mind passes on from one thing to another, it
is not unnatural, from such an occasion, to reflect upon our own liableness-
to the same or other calamities. The two last frequently accompany the
first, but it is the first only which is properly compassion, of which the dis-
trr-<.l are the objects, and which directly carries us with calmness and
thought to their assistance. Any one of these, from various and compli-
48 SERMON V.
real perception or sense of that distress : insomuch that
words expressing this latter, pity, compassion, frequently
occur, whereas we have scarce any single one hy which the
former is distinctly expressed. Congratulation, indeed,
answers condolence : but both these words are intended to
signify certain forms of civility, rather than any inward sen
sation or feeling. This difference or inequality is so remark
able, that we plainly consider compassion as itself an ori
ginal, 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 ob
tained 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 another. It is easy to
cated 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 Hobbs speaks of, and which he has absurdly mis
taken for the whole of compassion ; if there be any thing of this sort com
mon to mankind, distinct from the reflection of reason, it would be a most
remarkable instance of what was furthest from his thoughts, namely, of a
mutual sympathy Between each particular of the species, a fellow-feeling
common to mankind. It would not, indeed, be an example of our substi
tuting 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.
UPON COMPASSION. 49
see that the latter wants a particular affection for its relief,
and that the former does not want one, because it does not
want assistance. And, upon supposition of a distinct affec
tion 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, par
ticularly the last, " Has not each man troubles enough of
his own ?" must he indulge an affection which appropriates
to himself those of others ? which leads him to contract the
least desirable of all friendships — friendships with the unfor
tunate ? must we invert the known rule of prudence, and
choose to associate ourselves with the distressed ? Or, al
low 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 passion and affection of every kind perpetually
mislead us ? Nay, is not passion and affection itself a weak
ness, 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 creatures, it would be found of as bad con
sequence to eradicate all natural affections, as to be entirely
governed by them. This would almost sink us to the con
dition of brutes ; and that would leave us without a suffi
cient 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 on 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 circumstances
God has placed us in. Neither is affection itself at all a
weakness ; nor does it argue defect, any otherwise than as
our senses and appetites do ; they belong to our condition
of nature, and are what we cannot be without. God
D
50 SERMON V.
Almighty is, to be sure, unmoved by passion or appetite — •
unchanged by affection ; 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 mentioned, for a
man to endeavour to get rid of his senses, because the Su
preme Being discerns things more perfectly without them,
it is as real, though not so obvious an absurdity, to en
deavour to eradicate the passions he has given us, because
He is without them. For, since our passions are as really
a part of 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 show, that we are such sort of
creatures, as to stand in need of those helps which higher
orders of creatures 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 appetites, passions,
senses, no way imply disease ; nor, indeed, do they imply
deficiency or imperfection of any sort ; but only this, that
the constitution of nature, according 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 compas
sion, and all fellow-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 imperfections of the higher principles of reason and
religion in man, the little influence they have upon our
practice, and the strength and prevalency of contrary ones,
plainly require those affections to be a restraint upon these
latter, and a supply to the deficiencies of the former.
First, The very exercise itself of these affections, in a
UPON COMPASSION. 51
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 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 suc
cess 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 intro
duced into the world, without any deduction or inconve
nience from it, in proportion as the precept of rejoice
with those who rejoice, was universally obeyed. Our
Saviour has owned tin's 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 sor
row for the distress of others, seems so far necessarily con
nected with joy in their prosperity, as that whoever rejoices
in one must unavoidably compassionate the other : there
cannot be that delight or satisfaction, which appears to be
so considerable, without the inconveviences, whatever they
are, of compassion.
However, without considering this connexion, there is no
doubt but that more good than evil, more delight than sor
row, arises from compassion itself; there being so many
things which balance the sorrow of it. There is, first, the
relief which the distressed feel from this affection in others
towards them. There is likewise the additional misery
which they would feel from the reflection that no one
commiserated their case. It is indeed true, that any dis
position, prevailing beyond a certain degree, becomes some-
D 2
52 SERMON V.
what wrong ; and we have ways of speaking, which,
though they do 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 heing pitied, this
always conveys to our mind the notion of somewhat which
is really a weakness : the manner of speaking, I say, im
plies 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 knowing
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 sickness, 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 kind of satisfaction, which accom
panies it, unless in cases where the distress of another is by
some means so brought home to ourselves, as to become 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 positive 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 others, have withal
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
UPON COMPASSION. 53
would certainly be much more wanting in the offices of
charity th'jy owe to each other, and likewise more cruel
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 further security, without which it
would not be taken due care of. It is manifest our life
would be neglected, were it not for the calls of hunger, and
thirst, and weariness : notwithstanding that without them
reason would assure us, that the recruits of food and sleep
are the necessary means of our preservation. It is there
fore absurd to imagine, that, without affection, the same
reason alone would be more effectual to engage us to per
form 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 possible any can in earnest
think that a public spirit, i. e. a settled reasonable principle
of benevolence 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, neigh
bourhood, the distressed, 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, and weari
ness, are of service to the individual. In defect of that
higher principle of reason, compassion is often the only way
by which the indigent can have access to us : and there
fore 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 con-
54 SERMON V.
quered 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 injus
tice, 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
instances 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 show, that, as want of natural
appetite to food supposes and proceeds from some bodily
disease, so the apathy the Stoics talk of as much sup
poses, 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 philo
sophy, appear to have had better success in eradicating the
affections of tenderness 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 may be extended to such as
endeavour to suppress the natural impulses of their affec
tions, in order to form themselves for business and the
world, 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 judi
cial 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 themselves to, by suppressing their pas
sions and affections of one kind, and leaving those of the
UPON COMPASSION. 55
other in their full strength ? But surely it might be ex
pected, 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 peculiarly to be
long to men of leisure and education, they become insen
sible to by this acquired hardness of heart.
I shall close these reflections with barely mentioning the
behaviour of that divine Person, who was the example of
all perfection in human nature, as represented in the. gos
pels, 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 com
passionate the distressed, than rejoice with the prosperous,
requires to be particularly considered. This observation,
therefore, with the reflections which arise out of it, and
which it leads our thoughts to, shall be the subject of an
other discourse.
For the conclusion of this, let me just take notice of the
danger of over great refinements ; of going besides or be
yond the plain, obvious, first appearance of things, upon
the subject of morals and religion. The least observation
will show how little the generality of men are capable of
speculations. Therefore 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 appeals to
mankind. Persons of superior capacity 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 himself have thought, that there
was absolutely no such thing in mankind as affection to the
good of others : suppose of parents to their children ? or,
56 SERMON VI.
that what he felt upon seeing a friend in distress was only
fear for himself ; or, upon supposition of the affections of
kindness and compassion,, that it was the business 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 dis
covery in moral philosophy ; which they, it seems, have
found out through all the specious appearances to the con
trary. This reflection may be extended further. The
extravagances 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 owing to going beside
or beyond it. Now, since inquiry and examination can re
late only to things so obscure and uncertain as to stand 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
own soul; for this is the keeping of the commandment)
Eccles. xxxii. 23.
SEKMON VI,
UPON COMPASSION.
PREACHED THE FIRST SUNDAY IN LENT.
Rejoice with them that do rejoice, and weep with them
that weep. — ROMANS xii. 15.
THERE 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 life
UPON COMPASSION. 57
in which he is placed. This is a particular instance of that
general observation of the Son of Sirach, All things are
double one against another, and God hath made nothing im
perfect, Eccles. xlii. 24. The several passions and affec
tions 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 what
ever which are more commonly alleged for such : since
those affections lead him to a certain determinate course of
action suitable to those circumstances ; as (for instance)
compassion, to relieve the distressed. And as all observa
tions of final 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 instances of final causes
in the material world about us do ; and both these are
equally proofs of wisdom and design in the Author of na
ture ; so the former serve to further good purposes ; they
show us what course of life we are made for, what is our
duty, and, in a peculiar manner, enforce upon us the prac
tice 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 to
gether, without intermission ; to which no enjoyments of
life do, in degree and continuance, bear any sort of propor
tion. 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 capable 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 power to lessen
the miseries of others, than to promote their positive hap
piness, any otherwise than as the former often includes the
D 3
58 SERMON VI.
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 hinder
us from abusing, and to incline us to make a right use of
the former powers, *. e. the powers both to occasion and
to lessen misery ; over and above what was necessary to
induce 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, beyond, 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 promote 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 sel
dom happens, in regulated societies, that men have an
enemy so entirely in their power, as to be able to satiate
their resentment 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 or rage, to become an object of compassion, 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 pursuing his revenge any farther. But
UPON COMPASSION. 59
since nature has placed within us more powerful restraints
to prevent mischief, and since the final cause of compassion
is much more to relieve misery, let us go on to the con
sideration 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 in
tended to be a mere scene of unhappiness and sorrow.
Mitigations and reliefs are provided, by the merciful Author
of nature, for most of the afflictions in human life. 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 to 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 hap
piness, is, if I may so speak, an instance of nature's com
passion for us, and every natural remedy or relief 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
gaiety 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 con
trary purpose, and makes men industriously turn away from
the miserable, these are only instances of abuse and perver
sion : for the end for which the affection was given us,
most certainly is, not to make us avoid, but to make us
60 SERMON VI.
attend to the objects of it. And if men would only resolve
to allow this much to it, let it bring before their view, the
view of their mind, the miseries of their fellow-creatures :
let it gain 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 :
compassion puts us in mind of the debt, and that we owe
it to ourselves, as well as to the distressed. For to endea
vour 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 endeavour 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 un
happy ; 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 accom
panies 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 is misery. But in the compassion,
and where 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 unhappy, 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
UPON COMPASSION. 61
incapacity of struggling through the world, as a motive for
assisting him ; in a word, to consider these circumstances of
disadvantage, which are usually thought a sufficient reason
for neglect and overlooking a person, as a motive for help
ing him forward : this is the course of benevolence, which
compassion marks out and directs us to ; this is that hu
manity, which is so peculiarly becoming our nature and
circumstances in this world.
To these considerations, drawn from the nature of man,
must be added the reason of the thing itself we are recom
mending, which accords to and shows 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 hap
piness ; 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 proportion 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 cir
cumstances ? It is manifest, that the addition of a very
large estate to one who before had an affluence, will in
many instances yield him less new enjoyment or satisfaction,
than any ordinary charity would yield to a necessitous per
son. 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, pre
ferably 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 obser
vation deserves to be most seriously considered by all who
have to bestow. And it holds with great exactness, when
62 SERMON VI.
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 proportion to what is be
stowed, 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 recom
mendation of compassion, that it is most amiable, most
becoming human nature, and most useful to the world ;
yet it must be owned, that every affection, as distinct from
a principle of reason, may rise too high, 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 incapacitate 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 insensi
bility 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 views they lead us to, and
the general temper they have a tendency to beget in us.
UPON COMPASSION. 63
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 respect
ing ourselves, in our passage through this world ; namely,
to endeavour chiefly to escape misery, keep free from un
easiness, pain, and sorrow, or to get relief and mitigation of
them ; to propose to ourselves 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 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 wast
ing away their days ?
The subject we have been insisting upon would lead us
into the same kind of reflections, by a different connexion.
The miseries of life brought home to ourselves by com
passion, viewed through this affection, considered as the
sense by which they are perceived, would beget in us that
moderation, humility, and soberness of mind, which has
been now recommended ; and which peculiarly belongs to
a season of recollection, the only purpose of which is to
bring us to a just state 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 t than to go to the house of feast-
• ing ; i. e., it is more to a man's advantage to turn his eyes
64 SERMON VI. f
towards objects of distress, to recall sometimes to his
remembrance the occasions of sorrow, than to pass all his
days in thoughtless mirth and gaiety. And he represents
the wise as choosing to frequent the former of these places ;
to be sure not for its own sake, but because by 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 afflictions, in comparison of
what they are in high prosperity. By this voluntary resort
to the house of 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 commonly do.
The objects themselves, which in that place of sorrow lie
before our view, naturally give us a seriousness and atten
tion, check that wantonness which is the growth of pros
perity 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 enjoyment,
bring them down to the reality of things, to what is attain
able, to what the frailty of our condition 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 obstinacy and wilfulness, which render
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
UPON COMPASSION. 65
home upon ourselves 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 outward show of
which we all put on at this season.
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 hap
pily be lost, as there will be no objects to exercise it upon :
for God shall wipe away all tears from their eyes ; and there
shall be no more death, neither sorrow, nor crying ; neither
shall there be any more pain ; for the former things are passed
away.
SERMOX VII,
UPON THE CHARACTER OF BALAAM.
PREACHED THE SECOND SUNDAY AFTER EASTER.
Let me die the death of the righteous, and let my last end be
like his. — NUMBERS xxiii. 10.
THESE words taken alone, and without respect to him who
spoke them, lead our thoughts immediately 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
66 SERMON VII.
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 wicked, i. e. having lived righteously or
wickedly ; a comparison of them in their lives also might
come into consideration from such a single view of the
words themselves. But my present design is, to consider
them with a particular reference or respect to him who
spoke them : which reference, if you please to attend, you
will see. And if what shall be offered to your considera
tion at this time, be thought a discourse upon the whole
history of this man, rather than upon the particular words
I have read, this is of no consequence ; it is sufficient if it
afford reflections of use and service to ourselves.
But in order to avoid cavils respecting this remarkable
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 the 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, where 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 Romans 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 ; Balaam 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 cir-
UPON THE CHARACTER OF BALAAM. 67
cumstances, 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
Balaam, and put a word in his mouth," Num. xxiii. 4, 5 ;
upon receiving which, he returns back to the altars, where
was the king, who had all this while attended the sacrifice,
as appointed, he and all the princes of Moab standing, big
with expectation of the prophet's reply. " And he took
up his parable, and said, Balak the king of Moab hath
brought me from Aram, out of the mountains of the east,
saying, Come, curse me Jacob, and come, defy Israel.
How shall I curse, whom God hath not cursed ? Or how
shall I defy, whom the Lord hath not defied ? 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 part of Israel ? Let
me die the death of the righteous, and let my last end be
like his," Num. xxiii. 7 — 10.
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 introduced in the book of
Micah, chap, vi., explaining it; if by righteous is meant
good, as to be sure it is. " O my people, remember now
what Balak king of Moab consulted, and what Balaam, the
son of Beor, answered him from Shittim unto Gilgal."
From the mention of Shittim, it is manifest that it is this
very story which is here referred to, though another part of
it, the account of which is not now extant ; as there are
many quotations in Scripture out of books which are not
come down to us. " Remember what Balaam answered,
that ye may know the righteousness of the Lord," i. e. the
68 SERMON VII.
righteousness which God will accept. Balak demands,
" Wherewith shall I come before the Lord, and bow my
self before the high God ? Shall I come before him with
burnt-offerings, with calves of a year old ? Will the Lord
be pleased with thousands of rams, or with ten thousands
of rivers of oil ? Shall I give my first-born for my trans
gression, the fruit of my body for the sin of my soul ? "
Balaam answers him, " He hath showed thee, O man, what
is good : and what doth the Lord require of thee, but to
do justly, and to love mercy, and to walk humbly with thy
God?" Here is a good man expressly characterised, 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 walking humbly with God, are put in op
position 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 i
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 offered, 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 shalt not go with them, thou shalt not curse the
people, for they are blessed," Num. xxii. 12. Upon this
he dismisses the ambassadors, with an absolute refusal of
accompanying them back to their king. Thus far his re
gard to his duty prevailed ; neither does there any thing
appear as yet amiss in his conduct. His answer being re
ported to the king of Moab, a more honourable embassy is
immediately dispatched, and greater rewards proposed.
Then the iniquity of his heart began to disclose itself. A
UPON THE CHARACTER OF BALAAM. 69
thorough honest man would, without hesitation, have re
peated 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 circumstances 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 afterwards re
jected 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 de
sired: for this is the most natural sense of the words.
Arriving in the territories of Moab, and being received
with particular 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 sacri
fices 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 per
mission ; which not being able to obtain, he had such re
gard to the command of God, as to keep this resolution to
the last. The supposition of his being under a supernatural
restraint is a mere fiction of Philo : he is plainly repre
sented to be under no other force or restraint than the fear
of God. However, he goes on persevering in that endea
vour, after he had declared that " God had not beheld
iniquity in Jacob, neither had he seen perverseness in
Israel," Num. xxiii. 21 ; 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 pro
nounce upon them. So that the state of Balaam's mind
70 SERMON VII.
was this: he wanted to do what he knew to be very
wicked, and contrary to the express command of God ; he
had inward checks and restraints, which he could not en
tirely get over ; he therefore casts about for ways to recon
cile this wickedness with his duty. How great a paradox
soever this may appear, as it is indeed a contradiction in
terms, it is the very account which the Scripture gives us
of him.
But there is a more surprising piece of iniquity yet be
hind. Not daring in his religious character, as a prophet,
to assist the king of Moab, he considers 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 cursing 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 dis
tinction, 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 concerning which Solomon
afterwards observed, that it had " cast down many
wounded; 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 suc
ceeded : the people sin against God ; and thus the prophet's
counsel brought on that destruction, which he could by no
means be prevailed upon to assist with the religious cere
mony of execration, which the king of Moab thought
would itself have effected it. Their crime and punishment
are related in Deuteronomy, chap, iv., and Numbers, chap.
xxv. And from the relation repeated in Numbers, chap.
xxxi., it appears that Balaam was the contriver of the
whole matter. It is also ascribed to him in the Revelation,
chap, ii., where he is said to have " taught Balak to cast a
stumbling-block before the children of Israel."
UPON THE CHARACTER OF BALAAM. 71
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 very 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 like
wise 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 incon
sistency, what perplexity is here! With what different
views of things, with what contradictory principles of ac
tion, must such a mind be torn and distracted ! It was not
unthinking carelessness by which he ran 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 in
terest and advantage. 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 the sense of things, with the
better character and more desirable state present — full be
fore him — in his thoughts, in his wishes, voluntarily to
choose the worse — what fatality is here ! Or how other
wise 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 applicable to a very considerable part of the world. For,
if the reasonable choice be seen and acknowledged, and yet
72 SERMON VII.
men make the unreasonable one, is not this the same con
tradiction ? that very inconsistency, which appeared so un
accountable ?
To give some little opening to such characters and beha
viour, it is to be observed in general, that there is no ac
count 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 degrees beyond all proportion to the known
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 important interest 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
rationality. However, if this be with a clear, full, and dis
tinct view of the truth of things, then it is doing the utmost
violence to themselves, acting in the most palpable contra
diction 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 pal-
liatin0" 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 un
folded 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 before his eyes the authority of God, ab
solutely forbidding him what he, for the sake of a reward,
had the strongest inclination to : he was likewise in a state
of mind sober enough to consider death and his last end : by
these considerations he was restrained, first, from going to
the king of Moab, and after he did go, from cursing Israel.
But notwithstanding this, there was great wickedness in his
UPON THE CHARACTER OF BALAAM. 73
heart. He could not forego the rewards of unrighteousness ;
\ he therefore first seeks for indulgences ; and, when these
could not be obtained, he sins against the whole meaning,
end, and design of the prohibition, which no consideration
in the world could prevail with him to go against the letter
of. And surely 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 must be, That
consciousness of the wickedness of his heart must necessa
rily 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 distinguished from su
perstition, and in terms which most strongly exclude dis
honesty 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 unjus
tifiable courses, who yet make great pretences to religion ;
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
74 SERMON VII.
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 great violence upon themselves.
No : they are for making a composition with the Almighty.
These of his commands they will obey : but as to others —
why they will make all the atonements in their power ; the
ambitious, the covetous, the dissolute man, each in a way
which shall not contradict his respective pursuit. Indul
gences before, which was Balaam's first attempt, though
he was not so successful in it as to deceive himself, or
atonements afterwards, are all the same. And here, per
haps-, 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 infinite absurdity of
this, of substituting 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 discovers 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, uncharitableness ; these are refined upon ; —
things were so and so circumstanced ; — great difficulties
UPON THE CHARACTER OF BALAAM. 75
are raised about fixing bounds and degrees ; and thus every
moral obligation whatever may be evaded. Here is scope,
I say, for an unfair mind to explain away every moral ob
ligation 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
frequent opportunities of observing us and our conduct,
may make shrewd guesses at.
That great numbers are in this way of deceiving them
selves is certain. There is scarce a man in the world, who
has entirely got over all regards, hopes, and fears, concern
ing 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 wicked, with calmness and thought ;
we see they are. There must, therefore, be some method of
making it sit a little easy upon their minds, which, in the
superstitious, is those indulgences and atonements before
mentioned, and this self-deceit of another kind in persons
of another character. And both these proceed from a cer
tain unfairness of mind, a peculiar inward dishonesty ; the
direct contrary to that simplicity which our Saviour recom
mends, under the notion of " becoming 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 one
thing, desiring to " die the death of the righteous." This
is surely remarkable. The observation may be extended
further, and put thus : even without determining 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 shows at least a disturb-
E 2
76 SERMON VII.
ance, an 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
other, be seconded by a higher judgment, upon which our
whole being depends. Now, to suspend and drown this
sense, and these apprehensions, be it by the hurry of bu
siness or of pleasure, or by superstition, or moral equivo
cations, 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 ? 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 pre
fer 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-conceit, though of a more refined sort,
will not, in reality, at all amend matters with us. And
the result of the whole can be nothing else, but that with
simplicity and fairness we " keep innocency, and take heed
unto the thing that is right ; for this alone shall bring a
man peace at the last."
SERMON VIII, '
UPON RESENTMENT.
Ye have heard that it hath been said, Thou shalt love thy
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 that despitefaUy
use you and persecute you. —MATTHEW v. 43, 44.
SINCE perfect goodness in the Deity is the principle
from whence 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 implanted in
him a principle which appears the direct contrary to bene
volence ?" Now, the foot upon which inquiries of this I
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 be
haviour, respecting those circumstances, any particular af
fection or passion leads us to. This I mention to distinguish
the matter now before us from disquisitions of quite another
kind ; namely, " Why are we not made more perfect crea
tures, or placed in better circumstances?" These being
questions which 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
78 SERMON VIII.
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
circumstances, 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 are not made of
such a nature, and placed in such circumstances, as to
have no need of so harsh and turbulent a passion as re
sentment ;" but, taking our nature and condition as being
what they are, " Why, or for what end, such a passion
was given us :" and this chiefly in order to show 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. They 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 those passions, as our
neighbour was of the other of them.
This was all they had to say, and all they thought need
ful to be said, upon the subject. But this cannot be satis
factory : because hatred, malice, and revenge, are directly
contrary to the religion we profess, and to the nature and
reason of the thing itself. Therefore, since no passion God
' hath endued us with can be in itself evil ; and yet since
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 resentment : it will be needful to trace this up to
its original, that we may see, " What it is in itself, as placed
; in our nature by its Author;" from which it will plainly
appear " for what ends it was placed there." And when
we know what the passion is in itself, and the ends of it,
UPON RESENTMENT. 79
we shall easily see " what are the abuses of it, in which
malice and revenge consist;" and which are so strongly
forbidden in the text, by the direct contrary being com
manded.
Resentment is of two kinds : Hasty and sudden, or set
tled and deliberate. The former is called anger, and often
passion ; which, though a general word, is frequently ap
propriated and confined to the particular feeling, sudden
anger, as distinct from deliberate 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 duration of it.
But that the natural passion itself is indifferent, St. Paul has
asserted in that precept, " Be ye angry and sin not," Eph.
iv. 26, 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 evidently a distinction made between anger and sin,
between the natural passion and sinful anger.
Sudden anger, upon certain occasions, is mere instinct :
as merely so, as the disposition to close our eyes upon the
apprehension of somewhat falling into 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
occassioned 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 lat
ter. 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 infants, in the lower species
of animals, and, which is often seen, in men towards them ;
80 SERMON VIII.
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 naturally 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 which man was made thus liable
to this passion, is, that he might be better qualified to pre
vent, and likewise (or perhaps chiefly) to resist and defeat
sudden force, violence, and opposition, 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 consi
dered in this other and further view, as implying fault; and
since injury, as distinct from harm, may raise sudden anger,
sudden anger may likewise accidently serve to prevent, or
remedy, such fault and injury. But considered as distinct
from settled anger, it stands in our nature for self-defence,
and not for the administration 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 essentially
distinguished, as the latter is not naturally excited by,
or intended to prevent mere harm without appearance of
wrong or injustice. Now, in order to see, as exactly as we
can, what is the natural object and occasion of such resent
ment, let us reflect upon the manner in which we are
touched with reading, suppose, a feigned story of baseness
and villany, 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 designed is sufficient to raise this
inward feeling. Suppose the story true, this inward feeling
UPON RESENTMENT. 81
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 con
nected 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
indignation 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 resentment against
vice and wickedness : it is one of the common bonds by
which society is held together ; a fellow-feeling which each
individual has in behalf of the whole species, as well as
of himself. And it does not appear that this, 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 happiness and misery is most intimately and always
present to us ; and, from the very constitution of our na
ture, 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 per
son 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
E 3
82 SERMON VIII.
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 inadver
tency, strong temptations, and mistake, on the other. All
this is so much understood by mankind, how little soever
it be reflected upon, that a person would be reckoneed quite
distracted, who should coolly resent a harm, which had not
to himself the appearance of injury or wrong. Men do in
deed resent what is occasioned through carelessness ; but
then they expect observance as their due, and so that care
lessness is considered as faulty. It is likewise true, that
they resent more strongly an injury dojie, 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. Ac
cording to the natural course of the passions, the degrees of
resentment are in proportion, not only to the degree of de
sign and deliberation in the injurious person, but in propor
tion to this, joined with the degree of the evil designed or pre
meditated ; 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 resentment,
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 injury, 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
UPON RESENTMENT. 83
injury : but that it may be 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
deliberate anger. But they are essentially distinguished 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, which implies, or is supposed to
imply, injury or moral wrong. Every one sees, that these
observations 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 ge
neral course of resentment, considered as a natural passion,
neither increased 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 art-
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 per
petually without any real reason at all ; and by means of
it they are plainly, every day, every waking hour of their
lives, liable and in danger of running into the most ex
travagant outrages. Of a less boisterous, but not of a more
innocent kind, is peevishness ; which I mention with pity,
with real pity to the unhappy creatures, who, from their
inferior station, or other circumstances and relations, are
obliged to be in the way of, and to serve for a supply to it.
Both these, for aught 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 distinguished by
. different names. That which, in a more feeble temper,
is peevishness, and languidly discharges itself upon every
84 SERMON VIII.
thing which comes in its way ; the same principle, 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 peevishness, 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 ima
gine 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 resent
ment, 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 inanimate : when the in
dignation 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 resentment,
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 require being mentioned : a certain
determination, and resolute bent of mind, not to be con
vinced or set right ; though be it 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
UPON RESENTMENT. 85
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 in
dignation against cruelty and wrong, one of the instru
ments of death which the Author of our nature hath pro
vided ? Are not cruelty, injustice, and wrong, the natural
objects of that indignation ? Surely then it may, one way
or other, be innocently employed against them." True.
Since therefore it is necessary for the very subsistence of
the world, that injury, injustice, and cruelty, should be
punished : and since compassion, which is so natural to
mankind, would render that execution of justice exceed
ingly 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 necessary 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 man
kind had naturally no indignation against such wickedness
and the authors of it; but that every body was affected to
wards such a criminal in the same way as towards an inno
cent man : compassion, amongst other things, would render
the execution of justice exceedingly painful and difficult,
and would often quite prevent it. And notwithstanding
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 ba
lance 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 affairs of the world, is obvious to every one's notice"
86 SERMON VIII.
Men are plainly restrained from injuring their fellow-crea-
tures 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 require 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 ? 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 prin
ciple — reason and cool reflection.
The account now given of the passion of resentment, as
distinct from all the abuses of it, may suggest to our thoughts
the following reflections :
First t That vice is indeed of ill desert, and must finally
be punished. Why should men dispute concerning 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 indignation
upon seeing instances of villany and baseness, and there
fore cannot commit the same without being self-con
demned.
Secondly, That we should learn to be cautious, lest we
charge God foolishly, by ascribing that to him, or the na
ture he has given us, which is owing wholly to our own
abuse of it. Men may speak of the degeneracy and cor
ruption of the world, according to the experience they have
had of it; but human nature, considered as the Divine
UPON FORGIVENESS OF INJURIES. 87
workmanship, 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 deformity in the creation, and the only
reasonable object of abhorrence and dislike. How mani
fold 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 IX,
UPON FORGIVENESS OF INJURIES.
Ye have heard that it hath been said, Thou shaft love thy
neighbour, and hate thine enemy : But I say unto you,
Love your enemies, bless them that curse you, do </ood to
them that hate you, and pray for them which despitefully
use you and persecute you. — MATTHEW v. 43, 44.
As God Almighty foresaw the irregularities and disorders,
both natural and moral, which would happen in this state of
things, he hath graciously 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,
88 SERMON IX.
which they themselves are the occasions of. They are
incumhrances 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 all of
them to put us upon and help to carry us through a course
of behaviour suitable to our condition, in default of that
perfection of wisdom and virtue, which would be, in all
respects, our better security.
The passion of anger or resentment hath already been
largely treated of. It hath been shown, that mankind na
turally feel some emotion of mind against injury and injus
tice, whoever are the sufferers by it, and even though the
injurious design be prevented from taking effect. Let this
be called anger, indignation, resentment, or by whatever
name any one shall choose, the thing itself is understood,
and is plainly natural. It has likewise been observed that
this natural indignation is generally moderate and low
enough in mankind, in each particular man, when the in
jury which excites it doth not affect himself, or one whom
he considers as himself. Therefore the precepts to forgive
and to love our enemies, do not relate to that general indigna
tion against injury, and the authors of it, but to this feel
ing, or resentment, when raised by private or personal in
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 indig
nation against it, when we ourselves are the sufferers, be
comes faulty and blameable. 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 feeling in the latter case, though raised to a
higher degree than in the former ; because as was also ob
served 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
UPON FORGIVENESS OF INJURIES. 89
of the like import with them, must be understood to forbid
only the excess and abuse of this natural feeling, in cases
of personal and private injury : the chief instances of which
excess and abuse have likewise been already remarked, and
all of them, excepting that of retaliation, do so plainly, in
the very terms, express somewhat unreasonable, dispropor
tionate, 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 show the
absolute unlawfulness of the former — the obligations we 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 towards those who have
offended 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 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 shown to
be altogether vicious, the supposition that we were allowed
to render evil for evil, and see what would be the conse
quence. Malice or resentment 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 ; for resent
ment itself, as well as what is done in consequence of it,
is the object of resentment. Hence it comes to pass, that
the first offence, even when so slight as presently to be
90
SERMON IX.
dropt and forgotten, becomes the occasion of entering into
a long intercourse of ill offices : neither is it at all uncom
mon 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 retaliation was univer
sally 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 ho
nour : this supposes every man in private cases to pass
sentence in his own cause, and likewise that anger or re
sentment 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 jreally 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 ? 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
when one letteth out water," what would it come to when
allowed this free and unrestrained course ? "As coals are
to burning coals, or wood to fire," so would these " con
tentious men be to kindle strife." And since the indul
gence of revenge hath manifestly this tendency, and does
actually produce 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 shown that the passion of resent
ment was placed in man upon supposition of, and as a
prevention or remedy to, irregularity and disorder. Now,
whether it be allowed or not, that the passion itself, and
the gratification of it, joined together, are painful to the
UPON FORGIVENESS OF INJURIES. 91
malicious person ; it must however be so with respect to
the person towards whom it is exercised, and upon whom
the revenge is taken. Now, if we consider mankind, ac
cording 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 society 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 shows that it ought never to be made madi>
Vie 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 most remote from
them : and every one sees from whence the words preven
tion and remedy are taken. But if you please, let these
words be dropped : the thing itself, I suppose, may !><•
expressed without them.
That mankind is a community, that we all stand in a re
lation 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 resent
ment, as given to this one body, as given to society. No
thing can be more manifest, than that resentment is to be
considered as a secondary passion, placed in us upon sup
position, 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 undesirable, and what society must very
much wish to be without. It is in every instance abso
lutely an evil in itself; because it implies producing
and, consequently, must never be indulged or
92 SERMON IX.
gratified for itself, by any one who considers mankind as a
community 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 gratified in particu
lar instances, without being subservient to the particular
chief end, for which these several principles were respec
tively implanted in our nature. And if neither this end,
nor any other moral obligation, be contradicted, such gra
tification 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 sub
servient to what is the main end of it : that is, though it
does not conduce to, yet it may be gratified without con
tradicting that end, or any other obligation. But the gra
tification of resentment, if it be not conducive to the end
for which it was given us, must necessarily 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 ; *'. e. the misery occasioned
by injury ; 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-crea
tures. 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 re
venge, 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
* Serm. viii. p. 85.
UPON FORGIVENESS OF INJURIES. 93
wisdom of Providence, to bring good out of evil, vet 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 : 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 hath been
already.*
As to that love of our enemies which is commanded ;
this supposes the general obligation to benevolence or good
will towads 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, 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 neces
sarily destroy each other. We may therefore love our
enemy, and yet have resentment against him for his inju
rious behaviour towards us. Hut when this resentment
entirely destroys our natural benevolence towards him, it
is excessive, and becomes malice or revenge. The com
mand to prevent its having this effect, i. e. to forgive inju
ries, 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 benevo
lence, 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 without faults.
" But if lower instances of injury may lessen our bene
volence, why may not higher, or the highest destroy it ?'
* Ser. via. p. 84.
94
SERMON IX.
The answer is obvious. It is not man's being a social
creature, much less his being a moral agent, from whence
alone our obligations to good-will towards him arise. There
is an obligation to it prior to either of these, arising from
his being a sensible creature ; that is, capable of happiness
or misery. Now this obligation cannot be superseded by
his moral character. What justifies public execution 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 life is inconsistent with the quiet and
happiness of the world : that is, a general and more en
larged obligation necessarily destroys a particular and more
confined one of the same kind, inconsistent with it. Guilt
or injury then does not dispense with or supersede 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 re
sentment 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 shown, dispense with or
supersede the duty of love and good- will.
If all this be true, what can a man say, who will dispute
the reasonableness, or the possibility, of obeying the divine
precept we are now considering ? 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 af
fected in this manner, and act accordingly, is to be ac
counted for like other vices ; but to assert that it ought,
and must be thus, is self-partiality possessed of the very
understanding.
* Ser. viii. p. 85.
UPON FORGIVENESS OF INJURIES. 95
Thus, love to our enemies, and those who have been in
jurious to us, is so far from being a rant, as it has been
fanely 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 be as easily
reduced to practice. It cannot be imagined, that we are
required to love them with any peculiar kind of affection
But suppose the person injured to have a due natural sense
)f the injury, and no more ; he ought to be affected towards
the injurious 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 remain 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 unreason-
[t is indeed no more than that we should not induce
apassion, which, if generally indulged, would propagate itself
so as almost to lay waste the world : that we should sup
press that partial, that false self-love, which is the weakness
of our nature ; that uneasiness and misery should not be
produced, without any good service to be served bv it •
and that we should not be affected towards persons differ
ently from what their nature and character require.
But since to be convinced that any temper of mind and
r behaviour is our duty, and the contrary vicious
i but a distant influence upon our temper and actions
t me add some few reflections, which may have a more
direct tendency to subdue those vices in the heart, to beget
n us this right temper, and lead us to a right behaviour
towards those who have offended us; which reflections
however, shall be such as will further show the obligations
we are under to it.
SERMON IX.
No one, I suppose, would choose to have an indignity
put upon him, or 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 re
presenting the injury to ourselves 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 treat
ment, 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, with 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 unprejudiced,
we should frequently discern that to be in reality inadver
tence 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 of injury would almost infi
nitely 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 represents
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
offence and enmity, the whole character 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, at least, be confined to that particular part
UPON FORGIVENESS OF INJURIES. 97
of the behaviour 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, misunderstanding, some
real mistake of the case, on one side however, if not on both,
has a great share in it.
If these things 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 cau
tions come to is really no more than desiring that things
may be considered and judged of as they are in themsplves,
that we should have an eye to and beware of what would
otherwise lead us into mistakes. So that to make allow
ances for inadvertence, misunderstanding, for the partialities
of self-love, and the false light which anger sets things in —
I say, to make allowances for these, is not to be spoken of
as an instance of humbleness of mind, or meekness and mo
deration of temper, but as what common sense would sug
gest, 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 endeavour 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 looking through a glass which either magni
fied 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, any such
thing as direct ill-will in one man towards another. There
fore 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
F
9$ SERMON IX.
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 sen
tence 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 base
ness of ingratitude, are the natural objects of indignation,
or* if you please, of resentment, as before explained, yet
they are likewise the objects of compassion, as they are their
own punishment, and without 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 could 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 really, in opposition to show
and pretence, argues the true greatness of mind. We have
an example of forgiveness in this way in its utmost perfec
tion, and which indeed includes in it all that is good, in that
prayer of our blessed Saviour on the cross—" Father, for
give them ; for they know 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
UPON FORGIVENESS OF INJURIES. 99
sins against God. Now, there is an apprehension and pre
sentiment natural to mankind, that we ourselves shall one
time or other be dealt with as we deal with others, and a
peculiar aquiescenee in and feeling of the equity and jus
tice 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 will
surely keep his sins in remembrance. Forgive thy neigh
bour the hurt he hath done unto thee, so shall thy sins also
be forgiven when thou prayest. One man beareth hatred
against another, and doth he seek pardon from the Lord ?
He showeth no mercy to a man which is like himself, and
doth he ask forgiveness of his own sins ?" Eccles. xxviii.
1 — 4. Let any one read our Saviour's parable of " the
king who took account of his servants," Matt, xviii. ; and
the equity and lightness of the sentence 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 repre
sented in the parable ; that of our own death, or the final
judgment. Suppose yourselves under the apprehensions
of approaching 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 towards your
fellow-creatures, could any thing raise more dreadful ap
prehensions of that judgment than the reflection that you
had been implacable and without mercy towards those
who had offended you — without that forgiving spirit to
wards others, which, that it may now be exercised towards
yourselves, is your only hope ? And these natural appre
hensions are authorised by our Saviour's application of the
parable—-" So likewise shall my heavenly Father do also
unto you, if ye from your hearts forgive not every one his
brother their trespasses." On the other hand, suppose a
good man in the same circumstance, in the last part and
F 2
100 SERMON X.
close of life, conscious of many frailties, as the best are, but
conscious too that he had been meek, forgiving, and mer
ciful ; that he had in simplicity 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 trespasses, your heavenly Father
will likewise forgive you." And that we might have a con
stant sense of it upon our mind, the condition is expressed
in our daily prayer. A forgiving spirit is therefore abso
lutely necessary, as ever we hope for pardon of our own
sins, as ever we hope for peace of mind in our dying mo
ments, or for the divine mercy at that day when we shall
most stand in need of it.
SEEMOS" X,
UPON SELF-DECEIT.
And Nathan said to David, Thou art the man.
2 SAMUEL xii. 7.
THESE words are the application of Nathan's 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 this, ver. 1 : " There
were two men in one city ; the one rich and the other poor.
The rich man had exceeding many flocks and herds ; but
the poor man had nothing, save one little ewe-lamb, which
he had bought and nourished up ; and it grew up together
with him and with his children : it did eat of his own meat,
.UPON SELF-DECIET. 101
and drank of his own cup, and lay in his bosom, and was
unto him as a daughter. And there came a traveller unto
the rich man, and he spared to take of his own flock, and of
his own herd, to dress for the wayfaring man that was
come unto him, but took the poor man's lamb, and dressed
it for the man that was come to him And David's anger
was 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 shall restore the lamb fourfold, because
he did this thing, and because he had no pity." David
passes sentence, not only that there should be a fourfold
restitution 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 indignation against
such an act of inhumanity : "As the Lord liveth, he shall
surely die : and his anger was greatly kindled against the
man." And the prophet answered, " Thou art the man."
He had been guilty of much greater inhumanity, with the
utmost deliberation, thought, and contrivance. Near a year
must have passed, between the time of the commission 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 remorse 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 no
thing 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 differently upon any matter relating to
themselves, from what they do in cases of others where
they are not interested. Hence it is one hears people ex
posing 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 notori
ously guilty of. This self-ignorance and self-partiality may
102
SERMON X.
be in all different degrees. It is a lower degree of it, which
David himself refers to in these words, "Who can tell how
oft he oifendeth ? O cleanse thou me from my secret faults. ' ?
This is the ground of that advice of Elihu to Job : " Surely
it is meet to be 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 own heart is a fool." This like
wise was the reason why that precept, " Know 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 in judging
rightly of our own actions. But from this partiality it fre
quently 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 likewise 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
moral character : somewhat of which we almost all of us
have, without reflecting upon it. Now, consider how long,
and how grossly, a person of the best understanding might
be imposed upon by one of whom he had not any suspicion,
UPON SELF-DECEIT. 103
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 them in particular towards mending
their own hearts and tempers, and making them better
men. It never in earnest comes into their thoughts, whe
ther such admonitions may not relate, and be of service t
themselves ; and this quite distinct from a positive persua
sion to the contrary, a persuasion from reflection that they
are innocent and blameless in those respects. Thus v
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 thoughts of the gene
rality 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 observe
and wonders that it is not done by others.
Further, there are instances of persons having so fi
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
be acquainted with, or in any propriety of speech be said
to know any thing but what we attend to. If, therefore,
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 over
look entirely the plainest and most obvious things on the
other side. And whilst they are under the power of this
104 SERMON X.
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 pal
liate it ; palliate it, not to others, but to themselves.
In some there is to be observed a general ignorance of
themselves, and wrong way of thinking and judging in
every thing relating to themselves ; their fortune, reputa
tion, every thing in which self can come in ; and this per
haps 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
ambition, covetousness, 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 particu
lar 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
is hypocritical and false ; not being able otherwise to re
concile 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 neces
sary to be taken notice of, and allowed them ; such gene
ral and undistinguishing censure of their whole character,
as designing and false, being one main thing which con
firms them in their self-deceit. They know that the whole
censure is not true, and so take it 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 unreasonable and too
great regard to ourselves, in comparison of others. Rob
bery or murder is never from the love of injustice or cru-
UPON SELF-DECEIT. 105
elty, but to gratify some other passion, to gain some sup
posed advantage: 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 where
as, in common and ordinary wickedness, this unreasonable
ness, 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 j
distrust and diffidence concerning our own character, there ;
are, you see, two things, which may thus prejudice and
darken the understanding itself ; that over-fondness for I
ourselves, which we are all so liable to ; and also being
under the power of any particular passion or appetite, or ,
engaged in any particular pursuit. And these, especially i
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 covet-
ousness, shall even approve of them sometimes in others.
This seems to be in a good measure the account of self-
* That peculiar regard for ourselves which frequently produces this par
tiality of judgment in our own favour, may have a quite contrary effect,
and occasion the utmost diffidence and distrust of ourselves ; were 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, BO as to make us overlook his faults ; or it may put us
upon exercising that judgment with greater strictness, to see whether he is
so faultless and perfect as we wish him. If that peculiar regard to ourselves
leads us to examine our own character with this greater severity, in order
really to improve and grow better, it is the most commendable 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, in order to disguise
what is amiss, and to make a better appearance ; or if our attention to our
selves 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 show themselves to advantage, who are over solicitous of
doing so.
F 3
106 SERMON X.
partiality and self-deceit, when traced up to its original.
Whether it he, or be not, thought satisfactory, that there is
such a thing is manifest ; and that it is the occasion of a
great part of the unreasonable behaviour of men towards
each other ; that by means of it they palliate their vices
and follies to themselves ; and that it prevents their apply
ing to themselves those 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 here, that the temper we dis
tinguish by hardness of heart with respect to others, joined
with this '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
;;cope to the affections of compassion 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 be particularly
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 command
ment 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
lite, will see that a great part, perhaps the greatest part, of
UPON SELF-DECEIT. 107
the intercourse amongst mankind, cannot be reduced to
fixed determinate rules. Yet in these cases there is a right
and a wrong: a merciful, a liberal, a kind and compassion
ate behaviour, which surely is our duty ; and an unmerciful
contracted spirit, a hard and oppressive course of 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 he-
defined? There is not a word in our language which ex
presses more detestable wickedness than oppression • yet
the nature 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 instances, where rigid right and justice
ends and oppression begins. In these cases there is great
latitude left for every one to determine for, and conse
quently 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 in express, single, de
terminate 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, affords 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 endea
vour to prevent the ill consequences of a mistake he had
made in any common matter. The total insensibility of
mind, with respect to those horrid crimes, after the com
mission of them, manifestly shows 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, are not related.
Having thus explained the nature of internal hypocrisy
108 SERMON X,
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 dishonesty, 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 be darkness, how great is that dark
ness ?" Matt. vi. 23. For this reason our Saviour puts anevil
eye as the direct opposite to a single eye ; the absence of that
simplicity which these last words imply being itself evil
and vicious. And whilst men are under the power of this
temper, in proportion still to the degree they are so, they
are fortified on every side against cor>viction ; 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 will often assent to it, and even carry the matter fur
ther ; 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 as it should be : and perhaps there is
always at bottom somewhat of this sort. There are, doubt
less, many instances of the ambitious, the revengeful, the
covetous, and those whom, with too great indulgence, we
only call the men of pleasure, wko will not allow themselves
to think how guilty they are, who explain and argue away
their guilt to themselves ; and though 'they do really im-
UPON SELF-DECEIT. 109
pose 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 con
sciousness of their own genuineness : there is a feeling
belonging to them which does not accompany their coun
terfeits, 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 dis
agreeable, 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 wil-
fulness, 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 gene
ral knowledge that the condition of them is bad. These
extravagant people are perpetually ruined before they them
selves expected 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 in-
comet And yet no one will take this for an excuse, who
is sensible that their ignorance of their particular circum
stances 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 them-
110 SERMON X.
selves, 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 it for granted that they have been very much misled
by it. For consider : nothing is more manifest than that
affection and passion of all kinds influence the judgment.
Now, as we have naturally a greater regard to ourselves
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 con
sidering things. People are not backward in owning this
partiality of judgments, in cases of friendship and natural
relation. The reason is obvious why it is not so readily
acknowledged, 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 observa
tion more common, than that there is no judging of a mat
ter 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
UPON SELF-DECEIT. Ill
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 respect, 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 himself. If this
be general, almost universal, it is prodigious that every
man can think himself an exception, 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 think otherwise.
Secondly, There is one easy and almost sure way to
avoid being misled by this self-partiality, and to get ac
quainted 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 behaviour ; 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. Suppose then
an enemy were to set about defaming you, what part of
your character would he single out ? What particular scan
dal, think you, would he be most likely to fix upon you ?
And what would the world be most ready to believe ?
Then* is scarce a man living but could, from the most
transient superficial view of himself, answer this question.
What is that ill thing, that faulty behaviour, which I am
apprehensive an enemy, who was thoroughly acquainted
with me, would be most likely to lay to my charge, and
which 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 reflcc-
112 SERMON X.
tion ; 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, " Whatsoever ye would that men should do to
you, do ye even so to them," to our judgment and way of
thinking. This rule, you see, consists of two parts. One
is, to substitute another for yourself, when you take a sur
vey of any part of your behaviour, or consider what is pro
per and fit and reasonable for you to do upon 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 unreasonableness of such an action
or behaviour. But, alas ! the rule itself may be disho
nestly applied : 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 application, 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 re
specting our intercourse with our fellow- creatures. And
even the bearing 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 show
them to themselves, to show 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
UPON THE LOVE OF OUR NEIGHBOUR. 113
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 : religion is true, or it is not.
If it be not, there is no 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 the light, that " candle of the Lord with- '
in," which is to direct our steps ; and corrupts conscience, j
which is the guide of life.
SEKMON XL
UPON THE LOVE OF OUR NEIGHBOUR.
PREACHED ON ADVENT SUNDAY.
And if there be any other commandment, it is briefly compre
hended in this saying, namely, Thou shall love thy neigh
bour as thyself. — ROMANS xiii. 9.
IT is commonly observed, that there is a disposition 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 respect much the same in all
times. Now, 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
114 SERMON XI.
particular kinds of it are more open and avowed in some
ages than in others ; and, I suppose, 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 interest is
likely to be promoted in proportion to the degree in which
self-love engrosses us, and prevails over all other prin
ciples ; " or whether the contracted affection may not pos
sibly be so prevalent as to disappoint itself, and even con
tradict its own 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 pursuit 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 peculiar inconsistence
and contrariety between them, over and above what there
is between self-love and other passions and particular affec
tions, 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 tenderness and concern for its interests.
In order to this, as well as to determine the fore-men
tioned 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 respec
tive objects.
, Every man hath a general desire of his own happiness ;
UPON THE LOVE OF OUR NEIGHBOUR. 115
and likewise a variety of particular affections, passions, and -
appetites, to particular external objects. The former pro
ceeds 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 they proceed from, or together make up, that parti- j
cular nature, according to which man is made. The object
the former pursues is somewhat internal, our own happi
ness, enjoyment, 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 parti
cular 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
themselves. 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 towards ex
ternal things themselves, distinct from the pleasure arising
from them, is manifested from hence, that there could no
be this pleasure, were it not for that prior suitableness be
tween the object and the passion : there could be no en
joyment or delight for 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 mor.e than
another.
Every particular affection, even the love of our neigh
bour, 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 know
ing I myself should be happy some time hence, would be
my own pleasure. And it', because every particular affec-
116 SERMON XI.
tion is a man's own, and the pleasure arising from its grati
fication his own pleasure, or pleasure to himself, such par
ticular affection must be called self-love. According to this
way of speaking, 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 principle. But
then this is not the language of mankind : or, if it were,
we should want words to express the difference between the
principle of an action, proceeding from cool consideration
that it will be to my own advantage ; and an action, sup
pose 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 hap
piness, as one part of our nature, and one principle of action ;
and the particular affections towards particular external ob
jects, as another part of our nature, and another principle
of action. How much soever, therefore, is to be allowed to
self-love, yet 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 affection to ourselves — a
regard to our own interest, happiness, and private good :
and in the proportion a 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
UPON THE LOVE OF OUR NEIGHBOUR. 117
their end ; in this consists their gratification : no matter
whether it be, or be not, upon the whole, our interest or
happiness. An action, done from the former of these prin
ciples, is called an interested action. An action, proceed
ing from any of the latter, has its denomination of pas
sionate, ambitious, friendly, revengeful, or any other, from
the particular appetite or affection from which it proceeds.
Thus self-love, as one part of human nature, and the seve
ral particular principles as the other part, are themselves,
their objects, and ends, stated and shown.
From hence it will be easy to see how far, and in what
ways, each of these can contribute and be subservient to
the private good of the individual. Happiness 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 unbounded affection, and yet be ex
tremely 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 nature adapted to afford satisfaction. Hap- r
piness or satisfaction consists only in the enjoyment of
those objects which are by nature suited to our several ;
particular appetites, passions, and affections. 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 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 sup
posed ^self-love* only puts us upon obtaining and securing
it. Therefore, if it be possible that self-love may prevail
and exert itself in a degree or manner which is not sub
servient to this end, then it will not follow that our interest
will be promoted in proportion to the degree in which that
118 SERMON XI.
principle engrosses us, and prevails over others. Nay, fur
ther, 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 tendency and effect.
And if we will consider the matter, we shall see that it often
really has. Disengagement is absolutely necessary to en
joyment ; and a person may have so steady and fixed an
eye upon his own interest, whatever he places iff itt, 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. Immoderate self-love does very ill consult
its own interest ; and how much soever a paradox it may
appear, it is certainly true, that, even from self-love, we
should endeavour to get over all inordinate regard 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 down-right 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 meterials
of satisfaction, may be to our real advantage : but beyond
or beside 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
UPON THE LOVE OF OUR NEIGHBOUR. 119
the degree in which self-love engrosses us, and prevails
over all other principles, that the contracted affection may be
so prevalent as to disappoint itself and even contradict its
own end, private good.
" But who, except the most sordidly covetous, ever
thought there was any rivalship between the love of great
ness, honour, power, or between sensual appetites, 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 satis
faction. The competition and rivalship 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." Whe
ther 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 own private
good : it is, therefore, distinct from benevolence, which is
an affection to the good of our fellow-creatures. But that
benevolence is distinct from, that is, not the same thing
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 gratified 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 hav
ing an interest in that, of which we say a particular 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
120 SERMON XI.
positive exclusion, or bringing this peculiar 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
including it, no otherwise than it excludes love of arts, or
reputation, or of any thing else. Neither, on the other
hand, does benevolence, any 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 neighbour, or than love and
hatred of any thing else. Thus the principles, from which
men rush upon certain ruin for the destruction of an enemy,
and for the preservation of a friend, have the same respect
to the private affection, 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 disinterested, 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 disinterested too. Is there any less inconsistence be
tween the love of inanimate things, or of creatures merely
sensitive, and self-love, than between self-love, and the love
of our neighbour ? Is desire of, and delight in the happi
ness of another any more a diminution of self-love, than
desire of and delight in the esteem of another ? They are
both equally desire of and delight 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. Whatever
ridicule, therefore, the mention of a disinterested principle
*Pagc 116.
UPON THE LOVE OF OUR NEIGHBOUR. 121
or action may be supposed to lie open to, must, upon the
matter being thus stated, relate to ambition, and every appe
tite 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 intelligible way of speaking of it seems
to be this : that self-love, and the actions done in conse
quence of it, (for these will presently appear to be the same
as to this question,) are interested ; that particular affec
tions towards external objects, and the actions done in con
sequence of those affections, are not so. But every one is
at liberty to use words as he pleases. All that is here in
sisted upon is, that ambition, revenge, benevolence, all par
ticular passions whatever, and the actions they produce,
are equally interested or disinterested.
Thus it appears, that there is no peculiar contrariety
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 contra
riety between the respective courses of life which these
affections lead to ; whether there be any greater competition
between the pursuit of private and ot public good, than be
tween 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 ac
tion 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 hap
piness 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
it' we had the property of them exclusive of all others. So
a pursuit which tends to promote the good of another, yet
122 SERMON XI.
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
whatever, resentment, benevolence, love of arts, equally
lead to a course of action for their own gratification, *. 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 con
sideration further, concerning 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 necessity, that these additional considerations should
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 ? 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 benevo
lence 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 pursuit, 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 par
ticular 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 tem
per of tranquillity and freedom, than ambition or covetous-
ness ? Does the benevolent man appear less easy with him
self, from his love to his neighbour ? Does he less relish
his being ? Is there any peculiar gloom seated on his face ?
UPON THE LOVE OF OUR NEIGHBOUR. 123
1> 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 happi
ness ; this can only consist in the enjoyment of those
objects which are by nature adapted to our several facul
ties. 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 endeavouring 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, would be as great violence to their
self, as much breaking in upon their nature, as any external
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 enjoy
ment from a wicked action done 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 approving themselves to his unerring judgment, to whom
they thus refer all their actions, is a more continued settled
satisfaction than any this world can afford ; as also that
o2
124 SERMON XI.
they have, no less than others, a mind free and open to all
the common innocent gratifications 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, or 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 God himself 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 sup
ported themselves with satisfactions of this kind in sick
ness, poverty, disgrace, and in the very pangs of death ?
whereas, it is manifest all other enjoyments fail in these
circumstances. This surely looks suspicious 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. Happi
ness consists in the gratification of certain affections, appe
tites, passions, with objects which are by nature adapted to
them. Self-love may indeed set us on work to gratify
these : but happiness or enjoyment has no immediate con
nexion 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
I consciousness of endeavouring to promote the good of
others : but considered as a natural affection, its gratifica
tion consists in the actual accomplishment of this endeavour.
Now, indulgence or gratification of this affection, whether
in that consciousness, or this accomplishment, has the same
UPON THE LOVE OF OUR NEIGHBOUR. 125
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 "benevolence and the pursuit of
public good have at least as great respect to self-love and
the pursuit of private good, as any other particular passions,
and their respective pursuits."
Neither is covetousness, whether as a temper or pursuit,
any exception to this. For if by covetousness is meant the
desire and pursuit of riches for their own sake, without any
regard to or consideration of the uses of them ; this hath as
little to do with self-love, as benevolence hath. But by this
word is usually meant, not such madness and total distrac
tion of mind, but immoderate affection to and pursuit of
riches as possessions, in order to some further end ; name
ly, satisfaction, interest, or good. This, therefore, is not
a particular affection, or particular pursuit, 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 every
one appropriated to this temper and pursuit. Now, as it is
ridiculous to assert that self-love and the love of our neigh
bour are the same ; so neither is it asserted that follow
ing these different affections hath the same tendency and
respect to our own interest. The comparison 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 particular affections in human nature towards
external objects, as one part of the comparison ; and the
one particular affection to the good of our neighbour, as the
0&*part of it: and it has been shown, that all these have
the same respect to self-love and private interest.
There is indeed frequently an inconsistence, or interfer
ing 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, re-
126 SERMON XI,
venge, sensual gratifications, and private interest, than
between private interest and benevolence. For nothing is
more common than to see men give themselves up to a
passion 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 between benevolence and pri
vate interest, relate much more to the materials or means
of enjoyment, than to enjoyment itself. There is often an
interfering in the former, where 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 with
out lessening his fortune, yet there are multitudes might
give without lessening their own enjoyment ; because they
may have more than they can turn to any real use or ad
vantage to themselves. Thus, the more thought and time
any one employs about the interests and good of others, he
must necessarily have less to attend his own ; but he may
have so ready and large a supply of his own wants, that
such thought might be really useless to himself, though of
great service and assistance to others.
The general mistake, that there is some greater incon-
sistence 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 property ; 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 affection, (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
UPON THE LOVE OF OUR NEIGHBOUR. 127
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. This, I say, might be taken for granted,
whilst it was not attended to, that the object of every par
ticular affection is equally somewhat external 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 of
enjoyment is what constitutes interest and happiness ; that
our interest and good consists in possessions 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 conducing 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 subser
vient to self-love, by being the instrument of private enjoy
ment ; and that in one respect benevolence contributes more
to private interest, *. 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
128 SERMON XI.
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
contrary to their interest. It may be allowed, without 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 prevail over those of order, and beauty,
and harmony, and proportion, if there should ever be, as it
is impossible there ever should be, any inconsistency be
tween them ; though these last, too, as expressing the fit
ness 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 speculations : 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 text, in the epistle for
the day, from our Saviour's coming into the world. " The
night is far spent, the day is at hand ; let us, therefore, cast
off the works of darkness, and let us put on the armour of
light," &c. The meaning and force of which exhortation
UPON THE LOVE OF OUR NEIGHBOUR. 129
is, that Christianity lays us under new obligations to a <*ood
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 had 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 undertaken the work of our salva
tion, out of pure love and good- will to mankind. The en
deavour 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 excel
lent lessons of humility, resignation, and obedience to the
will of God ; so there is none it recommends with greater
authority, force, and advantage, than this of love and cha
rity; since it was "for us men, and for our salvation, that
he came down from heaven, and was incarnate, and was
made man;" that he might teach us our duty, and more
especially that he might enforce the practice of it, reform
mankind, and finally bring us to that " eternal salvation,
of which he is the Author to all those that obey him."
G 3
SERMON XII,
UPON THE LOVE OF OUR NEIGHBOUR.
And if there be any other commandment, it is briefly com
prehended in this saying, namely, Thou shalt love thy
neighbour as thyself. — ROM. xiii. 9.
HAVING already removed the prejudices against public-
spirit, or the love of our neighbour, on the side of private
interest and self-love ; I proceed to the particular expla
nation of the precept before us, by showing " who is our
neighbour : in what sense we are required to love him as
ourselves : the influence such love would have upon our
behaviour in life." And lastly, " How this commandment
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 na
ture 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
produce happiness : and this is the simple notion of good
ness, which appears so amiable wherever we meet with it.
From hence it is easy to see, that the perfection of goodness
consists in love. to the whole universe. This is the perfec
tion 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.
ON THE LOVE OF OUR NEIGHBOUR. 131
in that precept of our Saviour's, "Be ye perfect,
even as your Father which is in heaven is perfect," Matt,
v. 48, 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, imi
tation of it in this respect being plainly beyond us. The
object is too vast. For this reason, moral writers also have
substituted a less general object for our benevolence — man
kind. 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 for 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 governments they live under :
or, however, common men do not consider their actions as
affecting the whole community, of which they are mem
bers. 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 plain rule of life for man-
kind, has, 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 Sa
viour places the principle of virtue in the love of our neigh
bour; and the account itself shows who are comprehended
under that relation.
II. Let us now consider in what sense we are com
manded to love our neighbour as ourselves.
This precept, in its first delivery by our Saviour, is thus
132 stRMOtt xii.
introduced : " Thou shalt love the Lord thy God wijh all
thine heart, with all thy soul, and with all thy strength ;
and thy neighbour as thyself." These very different man
ners of expression do not lead our thoughts to the same
measure or degree of love common to both objects ; but
to one peculiar to each. Supposing, then, which is to be
supposed, a distinct meaning and propriety in the words,
" as thyself;" the precept we are considering will admit of
any of these senses ; that we bear the same kind of affec
tion to our neighbour as we do to ourselves ; or, that the
love we bear to our neighbour should have some certain
proportion or other to self-love ; or, lastly, that it should
bear the particular proportion of equality, that it be in the
same degree.
First, The precept may be understood as requiring only
that we have the same kind of affection to our fellow-crea
tures as to ourselves. That, as every man has the principle
of self-love, which disposes him to avoid misery, and con
sult his own happiness ; so we should cultivate the affection
of good-will to our 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 sea
sons. But real benevolence 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 sorrows, 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 will 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 interferings and competitions which cannot but be, from
ON THE LOVE OF OUR NEIGHBOUR.
the imperfections of our nature, and the state we are in.
It would likewise, in some measure, lessen that interfering,
and hinder men from forming 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 peculiar man
ner sensible of humanity, justice, or injustice, when exer
cised towards ourselves ; love of our neighbour would give
us the same kind of sensibility in his behalf. This would
be the greater security of our uniform obedience to that
most equitable rule, " Whatsoever ye would that men should
do unto you, do ye even so unto them."
All this is indeed no more than that we should have a
real love to our neighbour ; but then, which is to be ob
served, the words, as thyself, express this in the most dis
tinct manner, and determine the precept to relate to the
affection itself. The advantage which this principle of be
nevolence has over other/ remote considerations is, that it is
itself the tempter of virtue ; and likewise that is the chief,
nay, the only effectual security of our performing the seve
ral 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 averse-
ness, they are perpetually finding out evasions and excuses ;
which need never be wanting, if people look for them ; and
they equivocate 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 obliga
tion 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 account for the diversity of the ex
pression 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 mercy,
otherwise he will not act mercifully in any settled course of
behaviour. A consideration of the future sanctions of reli
gion is our only security of persevering in our duty, in cases
134 SERMON XII.
of great temptations ; 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 understood to
require, that we love our neighbour in some certain propor
tion or other, according as we love ourselves. And indeed
a man's character cannot be determined by the love he
bears to his neighbour, considered absolutely : but the pro
portion 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 struc
ture 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 different 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 inward contexture of the heart, and see
with the greatest exactness in what degree any one prin
ciple is in a particular man ; we could not from thence
determine how far that principle would go towards forming
the character, or what influence it would have upon the
actions, unless we could likewise discern what other prin
ciples prevailed in him, and see the proportion which that
ON THE LOVE OF OUR NEIGHBOUR. 135
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 resentment, or of ambi
tion, 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 a hard or cruel man :
whereas the other, having compassion in just the same de
gree 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 com
passionate. So that, how strange soever it may appear to
people who do not attend to the thing, yet it is quite ma
nifest, 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 com
passion 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 compassion
ate 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 inter
pretation of the text, denominates men's character as to
virtue. Suppose, then, one man to have the principle of
benevolence in a 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 lower degree, may yet be the strongest prin
ciple in his heart ; and strong enough to be the guide of his
136 SERMON XII.
actions, so as to denominate him a good and virtuous man.
The case is here as in scales : it is not one weight consi
dered 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 benevo
lence has upon our actions, and how far it goes towards
forming our character, is not determined by the degree it
self 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 neighbour : 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 proportion
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 mea
sure : let us then proceed to the course of behaviour, the
actions they produce.
Both our nature and condition require that each particu
lar man should make particular provision for himself; and
the inquiry, what proportion benevolence should have to
self-love, when brought down to practice, will be what is a
competent care and provision for ourselves ? And how cer
tain 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 ob
served 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,
UPON THE LOVE OF OUR NEIGHBOUR. 137
supplies for what is called a life of pleasure, covetousness,
or imaginary notions of superiority over others, to de
termine 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, supposing 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 thought,
and of their fortune, they employ in doing good to their
fellow-creatures, the nearer they come up to the law of
perfection, " Thou shalt love thy neighbour 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 affec
tion 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 towards himself and
his neighbour, he would have several other particular affec
tions, passions, appetites, which he could not possibly feel
in common both for himself and others : now these sensa
tions themselves very 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 him : 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, re-
138 SERMON XII.
sentment,) which men seem to have, and feel in common
both for themselves and others, makes no alteration in re
spect 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, sup
posing 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 interest, as
well as of our conduct, particularly belongs to us.
To these things must be added, that moral obligations
can extend no further than to natural possibilities. Now,
we have a perception of our own interests, like conscious
ness of our own existence, which we always carry about
with us ; and which, in its continuation, kind, and degree,
seems impossible 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 our
selves, of the individual, would not be neglected ; the ap
prehended 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 suf-
fereth long, and is kind ; charity envieth not, doth not be
have itself unseemly, seeketh not her own, thinketh no
evil, beareth all things, believeth all things, hopeth all
things," 1 Cor. xiii. As to the meaning of the expres
sions, " seeketh not her own, thinketh no evil, believeth
UPON THE LOVE OF OUR NEIGHBOUR.
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 mis
trust, 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 natural to mankind, yet these ought not to be car
ried further than the nature and course of things make ne
cessary. 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 temper of that charity, of which the apostle
asserts, that if he had it not, giving his " body to be
burned would avail him nothing;" and which, he says,
" shall never fail."
The happy influence of this temper extends to every
different relation and circumstance in human life,
plainly renders a man better, more to be desired, as to all
the respects and relations we can stand in to each other.
The benevolent man is disposed 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
satisfaction consists in this. He will be easy and kind to
his dependents, compassionate to the poor and distressed,
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 lives in : happiness grows under
his influence. This good principle in inferiors would dis-
140 SERMON XII.
cover itself in paying respect, gratitude, obedience as due.
It were, therefore, methinks, one just way of trying one's
own character, to ask ourselves, 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 deserve the character of virtue and religion so much as
myself?
And as to the spirit of party, which unhappily prevails
amongst mankind, whatever are the distinctions which serve
for a supply to it, some or other of which have obtained in
all ages and countries ; one who is thus friendly to his kind
will immediately make due allowances for it, as what can
not 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, would 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 ex
pected that the generality of men should see, that those
things which are made the occasions of dissension and fo
menting 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 likewise would prevent strife
and enmity arising from other occasions : it would prevent
our giving just cause of offence, and our taking it without
cause. And in cases of real injury, a good man will make
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 wrong.
IV. I proceed to consider, lastly, what is affirmed of the
UPON THE LOVE OF OUR NEIGHBOUR. 141
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 show 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 ex
ceptions, with which it is to be understood. But it is only
the former of these, namely, how for the assertion in the
text holds, and the ground of pre-eminence 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 explicitly laid
down, and which we of course supply ; somewhat, I mean,
which would not be commonly called a restriction or limit
ation. Thus, when benevolence 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 come into our notion
of a moral agent. And that will lead us to consider distant
consequences, as well as the immediate tendency of an
action : it will teach us, that the care of some persons, sup
pose 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, preferably to
others. Reason, considered merely as subservient to be
nevolence, as assisting to produce the greatest good, will
teach us to have particular regard 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
142 SERMON XII.
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 consideration, were it only in order to de
termine which way of acting is likely to produce the
greatest good. Thus, upon supposition that it were in the
strictest sense true, without limitation, 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. Reason, then,
being thus included, let us now consider the truth of the
assertion itself.
First, It is manifest that nothing can be of consequence
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, owe no man any
thing, but only to further and promote his happiness, ac
cording to our abilities. And, therefore, a disposition and
endeavour to do good to all with whom we have to do, in
the degree and manner which the different relations we
stand in to them require, is a discharge of all the obliga
tions we are under to them.
As human nature is not one simple uniform thing, but a
composition of various parts, body, spirit, appetites, parti
cular passions, and affections ; for each of which reasonable
self-love would lead men to have due regard, and make
suitable provision : so society consists 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.
Reasonable good- will, and right behaviour towards our
fellow-creatures, are in a manner the same : only that the
former expresseth the principle as it is in the mind ; the
UPON THE LOVE OF OUR NEIGHBOUR. 143
latter, the principle as it were become external, ». e. ex
erted 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 influences 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 the 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 bene
volence, or the want of it. And this entitles the precept,
" Thou shalt love thy neighbour as thyself," to the pre
eminence given to it ; and is a justification of the apostle's
assertion, that all other commandments are comprehended
in it ; whatever cautions and restrictions* there are, which
* For instance : as we are not competent judges what is, upon the
whole, for the good of the world, there may be other immediate ends ap
pointed 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 kid 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 happiness 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 happi-
144 SERMON XII.
might require to be considered, if we were to state particu
larly and at length, what is virtue and right behaviour in
mankind. But,
Secondly, It might be added, that in a higher and more
general way of consideration, leaving out the particular na
ture of creatures, and the particular circumstances in which
they are placed, benevolence seems in the strictest sense to
include it in all that is good and worthy ; all that is good,
which we have any distinct particular notion of. We have
no clear conception 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 conceive any thing else to
come in towards determining whether he is to be ranked in
a higher or lower class of virtuous beings, but the higher
or lower degree in which that principle, and what is mani
festly connected with it, prevail in him.
That which we more strictly call piety, or the love of
ness or misery of the world ; approved or disapproved by reflection, by that
principle 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 odious and shocking to human
nature. There is such a thing as meanness, a little mind, which, as it is
quite distinct from incapacity, so it raises a dislike and disapprobation quite
different from that contempt 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 approved 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 consi
dered 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 de
formities ; or, lastly, plain exceptions to the general rule ; thus much, how
ever, 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.
UPON THE LOVE OF OUR NEIGHBOUR. 145
God, and which is an essential part of a right temper, 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 con
stituted, that every good affection implies the love of itself ;
*. e. becomes the object of a new affection in the same
person. Thus, to be righteous, implies in it the love of
righteousness ; 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 piety, will at last necessarily coincide, run up into one
and the same point, and love will be in all senses the end of
the commandment.
O Almighty God, inspire us with this divine principle ; kill
in us all the seeds of envy and ill-will ; and help us, by
cultivating within ourselves the love of our neighbour, to
improve in the love of thee. Thou hast placed us in
various kindreds, friendships, and relations, as the school
of discipline for our affections : help us, by the due exer
cise of them, to improve to perfection, till all partial
affection be lost in that entire, universal one, and thou,
O God, shalt be all in all !
SERMON XIII, XIV,
UPON THE LOVE OF GOD.
Thou shalt love the Lord thy God with all thy heart, and with
all thy souly and with all thy mind. — MATT. xxii. 37.
EVERY body knows, you therefore need only just be put
in mind, that there is such a thing as having so great hor
ror of one extreme as to run insensibly and of course into
the contrary ; and that a doctrine's having been a shelter
for enthusiasm, or made to serve the purposes of supersti
tion, is no proof of the falsity of it : truth or right 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 sufficient to have mentioned
this in general, without taking notice of the particular extra
vagances which have been vented under the pretence or en
deavour of explaining the love of God ; or how manifestly
we are got into the contrary extreme, under the 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 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,
which 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
UPON THE LOVE OF GOD. 147
natural proper object of fear. Reverence, ambition of his
love and approbation, deligbt in the hope or consciousness
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 ;
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 contain
ing the whole of piety and virtue.
It is plain that the* nature of man is so constituted as 1
feel certain affections upon the sight or contemplation
certain objects. Now, the very notion of affection imphe
resting in'its object as an end. And the particular affec
tion to good characters, reverence and moral love of them,
is natural to all those who have any degree of real goodnes:
in themselves. This will be illustrated by the description
of a perfect character in a creature, and by considering the
manner in which a good man, in his presence, would 1
affected towards such a character. He would of course f<
the affections of love, reverence, desire of his approbati
delight in the hope or consciousness of it. And surely a
this is applicable, and may be brought up to, that Being who
is infinitely more than an adequate object of all those affe
tions : whom we are commanded to " love with all our Y
with all our soul, and with all our mind." And of these
regards towards Almighty God, some are more particularly
suitable to and becoming so imperfect a creature as man, in
this mortal state we are passing through ; and some of t
and perhaps other exercises of the mind, will be the employ
ment and happiness of good men in a state of perfection.
This is a general view of what the following discourse 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.
H 2
148 „ SERMON XIII.
As mankind have a faculty by which they discern specu
lative truth, so we have various affections towards external
objects. Understanding and temper, reason and affection,
are as distinct 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 themselves, 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,
desired, esteemed, but the somewhat further and beyond
them. If we have no affections which rest in what are
called their objects, then what is called affection, love,
desire, hope in human nature, is only an uneasiness in
being at rest — an unquiet disposition to action, progress,
pursuit, without end or meaning. 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
entertainment, it is all one, if it be without respect to for
tune, honour, or increasing our stores of knowledge, 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 man 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 ques
tion put in a way which supposes no gain, advantage, or
interest, but as a means to somewhat further : and if so,
UPON THE LOVE OF GOD. 149
then there is no such a thing at all as real interest, gain, or
advantage. This is the same absurdity with respect to life,
as an infinite series of effects without a cause is in specu
lation. 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
enjoyment, 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 satisfac
tion 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 carried so
much farther than is reasonable, that what gives immediate
satisfaction, i. e. our present interest, is scarce considered
as our interest at all. It is inventions, 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 happiness of a state of perfection,
which happiness being enjoyment, and not hope, must neces
sarily 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 the 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,
* St. Austin observes, Amor ipse ordinate amandus est, quo lene amaiur
quod arwindum est, ut sit in nol>is virtus qua vivitur fene, i. e. The affection
which we rightly have for what is lovely, must ordinate justly, in due man
ner, and proportion, become the object of a new affection, or be itself beloved,
in order to our being endued with that virtue which is the principle of a
good life. Civ. Dei. 1. 15, c. 22.
150 SERMON XIII.
and motives of action. It were ridiculous to assert that a
man, upon reflection, 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, plainly carries with it a peculiar affection
to or love of justice, goodness, righteousness, when these
principles are the objects of contemplation. 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 him
self or in his neighbour. This is the account of our
approbation of our moral love and affection to good cha
racters, which cannot but be in those who have any de
grees 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 reflections as far as it pleases — much beyond
what we experience in ourselves or discern in our fellow-
creatures. It may go on, and consider goodness as become
an uniform continued principle of action, as conducted by
reason, and forming a temper and character absolutely good
and perfect, which is in a higher sense excellent, and pro-
portionably 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 : good
ness 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 actu
ating 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
object 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
UPON THE LOVE OF GOD. 151
on undisturbed in the execution of it, through the several
methods of severity and reward, towards his end — namelv,
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 in themselves ; and even the strength of
mind which this immoveable goodness supposes, may like
wise be viewed as an object of contemplation, distinct from
the goodness itself. Superior excellence of any kind, ;us
well as superior wisdom and power, is the object of awe
and reverence to all creatures, whatever their moral cha
racter 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, suppose we were conscious that this supe
rior 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 acquaintance 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 creature,
for we are still going on with the supposition of a creature,
our proper guardian and governor ; that we were in a pro
gress of being towards somewhat further; and that this
scheme of government was too vast for our capacities to
152 SERMON XIII.
comprehend ; remembering still that he is perfectly good,
and our friend as well as our governor. Wisdom, power,
goodness, accidentally viewed any where, would inspire
reverence, awe, love. And as these affections would be
raised in higher or lower degrees, in proportion as we had
occasionally more or less intercourse with the creature en
dued with those qualities, so this further consideration 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 a higher interest in that wisdom,
and power, and goodness. We should, with joy, gratitude,
reverence, 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 atten
tion of life should be to obey his commands, so the highest
enjoyment of it must arise from the contemplation of his
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 correspondence between them, as between
the lowest appetite of sense and its object.
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 reverence 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 en
tirely depend, is the object of some regards. He hath
given us certain affections of mind, which correspond to
wisdom, power, goodness ; i. e. which are raised upon
view of those qualities. If, then, he be really wise, pow
erful, good, he is the natural object of those affections
UPON THE LOVE OF GOD. 15,3
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
pitch. He is not indeed to be discerned by any of our
senses : " I go forward, but he is not there ; and back
ward, but I cannot perceive him : on the left hand, where
he doth work, but I cannot behold him : he hideth himself
on the right hand that I cannot see him. Oh, that I knew
where I might find him ! that I might come even to his
seat." Job xxiii. But is he then afar off? Does he not
fill heaven and earth with his presence ? The presence of
our fellow-creatures affects our senses, and our senses
give us the knowledge of their presence ; which hath dif
ferent kinds of influence upon us ; love, joy, sorrow, re
straint, encouragement, reverence. However, this influence
is not immediately from our senses, but from that know
ledge.
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
mentioned. It is therefore not only reasonable, but also
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 con
sideration ; 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
towards them as present. And must he, who is so much
more intimately connected with us, that " in him we live,
and move, and have our being," be thought too distant to
be the object of our affections ? We own and feel the force
H 3
154 SERMON XIII.
of amiable and worthy qualities of our fellow-creatures ;
and can we be insensible to the contemplation 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
original ; who "is the God of judgment, by whom actions
are weighed?" Thus, love, reverence, desire of esteem,
every faculty, every affection, tends towards, and is em
ployed 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 infinitely more than adequate
object, to our most exalted faculties ; him " of whom, and
through whom, and to whom are all things ?"
As we cannot remove from this earth, or change our
general business on it, so neither can we alter our real na
ture. Therefore, no exercise of the mind can be recom
mended, but only the exercise of those faculties you are
conscious of. Religion does not demand new affections,
but only claims the direction of those you already have,
those affections you daily feel ; though unhappily confined
to objects, not altogether unsuitable, but altogether une
qual 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 ? 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 esteemed.
Must it then be thought enthusiastical to speak of a sensi
bility of this sort, which shall have respect to an unerring
judgment, to infinite wisdom, when we are assured this
unerring judgment, this infinite wisdom, does observe upon
our actions ?
UPON THE LOVE OF GOD. 155
It is the same with respect to the love of God in the
strictest and most confined sense. We only offer and re
present the highest object of an affection, supposed already
in your mind. Some degree of goodness must be previ
ously supposed : this always implies 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 with all our heart, with all our soul, and with all
our strength." " Must we then, forgetting our own inter
est, as it were go out of ourselves, and love God for his
own sake ?" No more forget your own interest, no more
go out of yourselves, than when ye 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 is not the object of
the affection. You may and ought, if you can, but it is a
great mistake to think you can love, or fear, or hate any
thing, from consideration 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 suppose, be
answered by observing, that the goodness of God already
exercised towards us, our present dependence 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 expectation 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 approbation.
156 SERMON XIV.
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 " variable
ness or shadow 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 unchangeableness, 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 unchangeableness of his
nature, approve what is evil. Hence must arise more vari
ous 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 imperfect a creature as man, in
this mortal state we are passing through ; so there may be
other exercises of mind, or some of these in higher degrees,
our employment and happiness in a state of perfection.
SERMON XIV.
CONSIDER then our ignorance, the imperfection of our na
ture, 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 religious affections of
mind are most particularly 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 good
ness : he is, therefore the object of some regards. The
imperfection of our virtue, joined with the consideration of
UPON THE LOVE OF GOD. 157
his absolute rectitude or holiness, will scarce permit that
perfection of love, which entirely casts out all fear : yet
goodness is the object of love to all creatures who have any
degree of it themselves ; and consciousness of a real en
deavour to approve ourselves to him, joined with the con
sideration 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 ex
cluded ; and one or another of these will prevail, according
to the differerit views we have of God ; and ought to pre
vail, 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 the acts of devotion.
Resignation to the will of God is the whole of piety : it f
includes in it all that is good ; and is a source of the most I
settled quiet and composure of mind. There is the general
principle of submission in our nature. Man is not so con
stituted as to desire things, and be uneasy in the want of
them, in proportion to their known value : many other con
siderations come in to determine the degrees of desire ; par
ticularly, 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 ? 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. Now, there is
just the same reason for quiet resignation in the want of
every thing equally unattainable, and out of our reach in
particular, though others of our species be possessed of it.
158 SERMON XIV.
All this may be applied to the whole of life ; to positive in
conveniences as well as wants ; not indeed to the sensations
of pain and sorrow, but to all the uneasinesses of reflection,
murmuring, and discontent. Thus is human nature formed
to compliance, yielding submission of temper. We find the
principles of it within us, and every one exercises it towards
some objects or other ; *. e. feels it with regard to some per
sons, and some circumstances. Now, this is an excellent
foundation of a reasonable and religious resignation. Nature
teaches and inclines us to take up with our lot : the con
sideration, 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 unalter
able 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 imagination, distant
fears, impatience ; all uneasiness, except that which neces
sarily arises from the calamities themselves we may be under.
How many of our cares should we by this means be dis
burdened of! Cares not properly our own, how apt soever
they may be to intrude upon us, and we to admit them ; the
anxieties of expectation, solicitude about success and dis
appointment, which in truth are none of our concern.
How open to every gratification would that mind be, which
was clear of these incumbrances !
Our resignation to the will of God may be said to be per
fect, when our will is lost and resolved up 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,
UPON THE LOVE OF GOD. 159
than those words are commonly 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 particularly suitable to our
mortal condition, and what we should endeavour after for
our own sakes in our passage through such a world as this ;
where is nothing upon which we can rest or depend ; no
thing but what we are liable to be deceived and disappointed
in. Thus we might " acquaint ourselves with God, and be
at peace." This is piety and religion in the strictest sense,
considered as a 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 wor
ship, than that it is this temper exerted into act. The
nature of it consists in the actual exercise of 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 by us, and we
see him not: he passeth on also, but we perceive him not,"
Jobix. 11. Devotion 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 yourselves up to the
influence of the Divine presence, and to give full scope to
the affections of gratitude, love, reverence, trust, and ^de
pendence ; of which infinite 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 Sirach :
" When you glorify the Lord, exalt him as much as you
160 SERMON XIV.
can ; for even yet will he far exceed : and when you exalt
him, put forth all your strength, and be 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 crea
ture 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 imperfection ; to crea
tures in a progress of being towards somewhat further.
Suppose, now, this something further attained : that we
were arrived at it : what a perception will it be, to see,
and know, and feel, that our trust was not vain, our depend
ence not groundless ? That the issue, event, and consum
mation, came out such as fully to justify and answer that
resignation ? 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 we shall see face to face, and know as
we are known ?" 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 consideration 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 bu
siness and pleasure, sitting down alone and at leisure, to
reflect upon himself and his own condition of being. He
would immediately feel that he was by no means complete
of himself, but totally insufficient for his own happiness.
One may venture to affirm, that every man hath felt this,
UPON THE LOVE OF GOD, 161
whether he hath again reflected upon it or not. It is feel
ing this deficiency, that they are unsatisfied with themselves,
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 things we take up with were really an ade
quate supply to this deficiency of human nature, if by their
means our capacities and desires were all satisfied 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 in the enjoyment of it. But if it appears
that the amusements 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
t us aside from, and prevent our attending to this our inter
nal 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 sen
sible : then we are 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 any thing 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 possibility 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, who have got this
world so much into their hearts, as not to be able to
162 SERMON XIV.
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 thing it
self, not somewhat in order to it. But if you can lay aside
that 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, nothing 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 infinitely more than all
these : he may be to us all that we want. As our under
standing can contemplate itself, and our affections be exer
cised upon themselves by reflection, so may each be em
ployed in the same manner upon any other mind : and
since the Supreme Mind, the Author and Cause of all
things, is the highest possible object to himself, he may be
an adequate supply to all the faculties of our souls ; a sub
ject to our understanding, and an object to our affections.
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 }>e of no avail ; when this restless scene of business
and vain pleasures, which 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 sensitive
ones ; and pleasure or uneasiness from our perceptions, as
now we have.
There are certain ideas, which we express by the words
UPON THE LOVE OF GOD. 163
order, harmony, proportion, beauty, the furthest removed
from any thing sensual. Now, what is there in those in
tellectual images, forms of ideas, which begets that appro
bation, 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 afford
ing gratification to sensual appetites, and from quite an
other view of them, than as being for their interest and
further advantage. 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 grati
fication. Words, to be sure, are wanting upon this sub
ject : to say, that every thing of grace and beauty through
out 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 impossible, that
hereafter the qualities themselves in %the Supreme Being
may be the immediate object of contemplation. What
ama/ing wonders are opened 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 understanding, to view
the scheme of it in that Mind which projected it, before its
foundations were laid. 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 in
telligence itself from whence it proceeded. The same may
SERMON XIV.
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 im
perfect 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
a higher object to the understanding an infinite Being him
self is, than the things 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. Suppose 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. The skill in the mind of the artificer
would be a higher object, if we had any senses or ways to
discern it. For, observe, the contemplation of that prin
ciple, faculty, or power, which produced any effect, must
be a higher exercise of the understanding than the contem
plation of the effect itself. The cause must be a 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 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 little
do we know of the original, of what it is in itself? Recall
what was before observed concerning 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 per-
UPON THE LOVE OF GOD. 165
feet :" and then suppose that they had a real view of that
" righteousness, which is an everlasting 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 ;
and, what will be true of all good men hereafter, a con
sciousness of having an interest in what they are contem
plating; suppose them able to say, " This God is our God
for ever and ever :" would they be any longer to seek for
what was their chief happiness, 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 ?
Consider wherein that presence of a friend consists,
which has often so strong an effect, as wholly to possess
the mind, and entirely suspend all other affections and re
gards ; and which itself affords the highest satisfaction and
enjoyment. He is within reach of the senses. Now, as our
capacities of perception improve, we shall have, perhaps by
some faculty entirely new, a perception of God's presence
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 con
sciousness of it. What then will be the joy of heart, which
his presence, 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 sustainer of their
being, that they exist in him ; when they shall feel his in
fluence to cheer, and enliven, and support their frame, in a
manner of which we have now no conception ? He will
be, in a literal sense, " their strength and their portion for
rer."
When we speak of things so much above our compre-
ever.
166 SERMON XIV.
hension, 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, knowing as we are known, and seeing
face to face." These words are not general or undeter
mined, but express a particular determinate happiness.
And I will be bold to say, that nothing can account for, or
come up to these expressions but only this, that God him
self will be an object to our faculties ; that he himself will
be our happiness, 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 tired with care
and sorrow, and the repetition of vain delights which fill
up the round of life ; sensible that every thing here below,
in its best estate, is altogether 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 applicable 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 perfection, than the following
passages in the devotions of the royal prophet ? They are
plainly, in a higher and more proper sense, more applicable
to this than they could be to any thing else. " I have
seen an end of all perfection. Whom have I in heaven but
thee ? and there is none upon earth that I desire in com
parison of thee. My flesh and my heart faileth : but God
is the strength of my heart, and my portion for ever. Like
as the hart desireth the water-brooks, so longeth my soul
after thee, O God. My soul is athirst for God ; yea, even
for the living God ; when shall I come to appear before
him ? how excellent is thy loving kindness, O God ! And
the children of men shall put their trust under the shadow
UPON THE LOVE OF GOD. 1G7
of thy wings. They shall be satisfied with the plenteous-
ness of thy house : and thou shalt 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
man whom thou choosest, and receivest unto thee : he
shall dwell in thy court, and shall be satisfied with the
pleasures of thy house, even of the holy temple. Blessed
is the people, O 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 loving-kindness they shall be exalted. As for
me, I will behold thy presence in righteousness ; and when
I awake up after thy likeness, I shall be satisfied with it.
Thou shalt show me the path of life ; in thy presence is
the fulness of joy, and at thy right hand there is pleasure
for evermore."
SEBMON XV,
UPON THE IGNORANCE OF MAN.
When I applied 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. — ECCLES. viii. 16, 17.
THE writings of Solomon are very much taken up with
reflections upon human nature and human life ; to which
he hath added, in this book, reflections upon the constitu
tion 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 re
view, he expresses great ignorance of the works of God,
and the method of his providence in the government of the
world ; great labour and weariness in the search and ob
servation he had employed himself about ; and great dis
appointment, pain, and even vexation of mind, upon that
which he had remarked of the appearance of things, and
of what was going forward upon this earth. This whole
review and inspection, and the result of it, sorrow, per
plexity, a sense of his necessary ignorance, suggests various
reflections to his mind. But, notwithstanding all this
ignorance and dissatisfaction, there is somewhat upon
UPON THE IGNORANCE OF MAN. 169
which he assuredly rests and depends : somewhat 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 observation
and knowledge of our own ignorance, and the reflections
which it leads us to.
I. The wisest and most knowing cannot comprehend 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 vet, 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
effects, that the most knowing are acquainted with : for as
to causes, they are as entirely in the dark as the most igno
rant. What are the laws by which matter acts upon
matter, but certain effects which some, having observed
to be frequently repeated, have reduced to general rules ?
The real nature and essence of beings likewise is what we
are altogether ignorant of. All these things are so entirely
out of our reach, that we have not the least glimpse of
them. And we know little more of ourselves, than we do
of the world about us : how we were made, how our being
is continued and preserved, what the faculties of our minds
are, and upon what the power of exercising them depends.
" I am fearfully and wonderfully made: marvellous are thy
works, 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 dis
covery which is made, every new effect which is brought
to view, serves to convince us of numberless more which
170 SERMON XV.
remain concealed, and which we had before no suspicion 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 ? What would all this natural knowledge
amount to ? It must be a low curiosity indeed which such
superficial knowledge would satisfy. On the contrary,
would it not serve to convince us of our ignorance still, and
to raise our desire of knowing the nature of things them
selves : the author, the cause, and the end of them ?
As to the government of the world : though from con
sideration of the final causes which come within our know
ledge ; 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, there
fore, must necessarily 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 govern
ment of the world, enough to enforce upon us religion and
the practice of virtue ; yet, since the monarchy of the uni
verse is a dominion unlimited in extent, and everlasting in
duration, the general system oMt must necessarily be quite
beyond our comprehension. And, since there appears 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 con
vince 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. " No heart can think upon
these things worthily : and who is able to conceive his way ?
It is a tempest which no man can see : for the most part of
his works are hid. Who can declare the works of his jus
tice ? For his covenant is afar off, and the trial of all
things is the end ;" i. e. the dealings of God with the chil-
dren of men are not yet completed, and cannot be judged
I of by that part which is before us. " So that a man can-
UPON THE IGNORANCE OF MAN. 171
not say, This is worse than that : for in time they shall be
well approved. Thy faithfulness, O Lord, reacheth unto
the clouds: thy righteousness standeth like the strong
mountains : thy judgments are like the great deep. He
hath made every thing beautiful in his time : also he hath
set the world in their heart ; so that no man can find out
the work that God maketh from the beginning to the end."
And thus St. Paul concludes a long argument upon the
various dispensations of Providence : " O the depth of the
riches both of the wisdom and knowledge of God ! How
unsearchable are his judgments, and his ways past finding
out ! For who hath known the mind of the Lord ?"
Thus the scheme of Providence, the ways and works of
God, are too vast, of too large extent for our capacities.
There is, as I may speak, such an expanse 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 natural capacities of understanding; many things
concerning the designs, methods, and ends of divine Pro
vidence 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
I 2
172
SERMON XV.
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 sub
mission is to be tried by afflictions, where temptations are
to be resisted, and difficulties gone through in the discharge
of their duty. Now, if the greatest pleasure and pains of
the present life may be overcome and suspended, as they
manifestly 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 improve
ment, necessarily excludes such sensible evidence and con
viction of religion, and of the consequences of virtue and
vice. Religion 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 shallow-
ness of our reason, the temptations, difficulties, afflictions,
which we are exposed to, all equally contribute to make it
so. The general observation maybe carried on ; and who
ever will attend to the thing will plainly see, that less sen
sible evidence with less difficulty in practice, is the same as
more sensible evidence, with greater difficulty in practice.
Therefore, difficulties in speculation as much come into the
notion of a state of discipline, 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 de
monstration ; yet the strict discharge of our duty, with less
sensible evidence, does imply in it a better character, than
UPON THE IGNORANCE OF MAN. 173
the same diligence in the discharge of it upon more sensible
evidence. This fully accounts for and explains that asser
tion of our Saviour, " Blessed are they that have not seen,
and yet have believed," John xx. 29 ; have become Chris
tians and obeyed the gospel, upon less sensible evidence,
than that which 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 ourselves ; of our rank in the crea
tion, and of what is due to us. What sphere of action,
what business is assigned to man, that he has not capaci
ties and knowledge fully equal to ? It is manifest he has
reason, and knowledge, and faculties, superior to the busi
ness 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 know
ledge 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 ignorance, 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 religion ; namely
with expectation of finding difficulties, and with a disposi- I
tion to take up and rest satisfied with any evidence what- ?
ever which is real.
He should beforehand expect things mysterious, and such
as he will not be able thoroughly to comprehend, or go to
the bottom of. To expect a distinct comprehensive view
of the whole subject, clear of difficulties and objections, is
174 SERMON XV.
to forget our nature 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 satisfied 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 ? 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 daylight :
he might, perhaps, have great curiosity to see the country
round about him ; he might lament that the darkness con
cealed 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 a dreadful experiment of leaving the course of
life marked out for him by nature, whatever that nature be,
and entering paths of his own, of which he can know
neither the dangers nor the end. For, though no danger
be seen, yet darkness, ignorance, and blindness are no
manner of security.
Secondly, Our ignorance is the proper answer to many
things which are called objections against religion ; particu
larly to those which arise from the appearances of evil and
UPON THE IGNORANCE OF MAN. 175
irregularity in the constitution of nature and the govern
ment of the world. In all other cases it is thought neces
sary 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 government
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 per
fect things are, they must even necessarily appear to us
otherwise, less perfect than they are.*
* Suppose some very complicated piece of work, some system or consti
tution, formed for some general end, to which each of the parts had a
reference. The perfection or justness of this work or constitution 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 infi
nitely various, both in degree and kind. Thus, one part may only con
tribute 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 oi
nature was brought into being, is happiness, whatever affords present satis
faction, and likewise tends to carry on the course of things, 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 as dis
proportionate and wrong, others just and beautiful : what would he gather
from these appearances ? He would immediately conclude there was a pro
bability, 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 disproportion : but there is no probability that the reference would
176 SERMON XV.
Thirdly, Since the constitution of nature, and the me
thods 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 hap
piness of man consisted in knowledge, considered as a pos
session 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, " He who increases knowledge would "
eminently "increase sorrow." Men of deep research and
curious inquiry 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 prac
tice, or assistance in it ; or if they tend to render life less
unhappy, and promote its satisfactions ; 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
entertainment or diversion. Neither is this at all amiss, if
it does not take up the time which should be employed in
better works. But it is evident that there is another mark
set up for us to aim at ; another end appointed us to direct
destroy the particular right appearances, though that reference might show
the things already appearing just, to be so likewise in a higher degree or
another manner. There is a probability that the right appearances were
intended : there is no probability that the wrong appearances were. We
cannot suspect irregularity 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 archi
tect intended the beautiful appearance, after we have found out the refe
rence, support. It would be reasonable for a man of himself to think
upon the first piece of architecture he ever saw.
UPON THE IGNORANCE OF MAN. 177
our lives to : an end which the most knowing may fail of,
and the most ignorant arrive at. " The secret things be
long unto the Lord our God ; but those things which are
revealed belong 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 power exerted 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 know
ledge, of contemplation 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 pro
per business, and esteem every thing else nothing, nothing
as to us, in comparison of it. Thus Job, discoursing of
natural knowledge, how much it is above us, and of wisdom
in general, says, " God understandeth the way thereof, and
he knoweth the place thereof. And unto man he said,
Behold, the fear of the Lord, this is wisdom, and to depart
from evil is understanding." 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 government 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 work and business.
The same is said, and with the same connexion and con
text, in the conclusion of the book of Ecclesiastes. Our
ignorance, and t|ie little we can know of other things, af
fords a reason why we should not perplex ourselves about
them ; but no way invalidates that which is the " conclusion
of the whole matter, Fear God, and keep his command-
i 3
178 SERMON XV.
ments : for this is the whole 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 religion, life and manners : the
science of improving the temper, and making the heart bet
ter. This is the field assigned us to cultivate ; how much
it has lain neglected is indeed astonishing. Virtue is de-
monstrably the happiness 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 pas
sions, mind, affections : that so we may be free from the
impotencies of fear, envy, malice, covetousness, ambition ;
that we may be clear of these, considered as vices seated
in the heart, considered as constituting a general wrong
temper ; from which general wrong frame of mind, all the
mistaken pursuits, and far the greatest part of the unhappi-
ness 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 knowledge put
together.
Lastly, Let us adore that infinite wisdom, and power,
and goodness, which is above our comprehension. " To
whom hath the root of wisdom been revealed ? Or who
hath known her wise counsels ? There is one wise, and
greatly to be feared ; the Lord sitting upon his thone. He
created her, and saw her, and numbered her, and poured
her out upon all his works." If it be thought a consider
able 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, what senti
ments should our minds be filled with concerning Him who
appointed 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 imm-
UPON THE IGNORANCE OF MAN. 179
her of the stars, and calleth them all by their names.
Who laid the foundations of the earth, who comprehendeth
the dust of it in a measure, and weigheth the mountains in
scales, and the hills in a balance." And when we have
recounted all the appearances which come within our view,
we must add, " Lo, these are parts of his ways ; but how
little a portion is heard of him ? Canst thou by searching
find out God ? Canst thou find out the Almighty unto
perfection ? 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 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 ways, thou King of saints ! Who shall not
fear thee, O Lord, and glorify thy name ?"
SIX SERMONS,
PREACHED UPON PUBLIC OCCASIONS
SEKMON I,
PREACHED BEFORE THE INCORPORATED SOCIETY FOR THE PROPA
GATION OF THE GOSPEL IN FOREIGN PARTS,
.-it their Anniversary Meeting in the Parish Church of St. Mary-le~£ou;
On Friday, February 16, 1738-9.
And this gospel of the kingdom shall be preached in all the
world, for a witness unto all nations. — MATT. xxiv. 14.
THE general doctrine of religion, that all things are
under the direction of one righteous Governor, having been
established by repeated revelations in the 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 though 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 knowledge," Rom. i. 28, 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 discernible at all, in
the religious establishments of the most learned, polite
ON THE PROPAGATION OF THE GOSPEL. 181
nations. And how much soever could have been done to
wards the revival of it by the light of reason, yet this light
could not have discovered 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 govern
ment admitted repentance to be accepted for remission of
sins, after the obscure intimations of these things, from
tradition, were corrupted or forgotten. 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 designed 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 highest 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 authoritatively repub-
lished in its purity ; and the particular dispensation of Pro
vidence, which this world is under, manifested to all men,
even " the dispensation of the grace of God towards us,"
Eph. iii. 2, as sinful, lost creatures, to be recovered by
repentance through a Mediator, who was " to make recon
ciliation for iniquity, and to bring in everlasting righteous
ness," Dan. ix. 24, and at length established that new state
of things foretold by the prophet Daniel, under the charac
ter of " a kingdom, which the God of heaven would set up,
and which should never be destroyed," Dan. ii. 44. This,
including a more distinct account of the instituted means
whereby Christ the Mediator would " gather together in
one, the children of God that were scattered abroad," John
xi. 52, and conduct them to " the place he is gone to pre
pare for them," John xiv. 2,3; is the gospel of the king
dom, which he here foretells, and elsewhere commands,
should " be preached in all the world, for a witness unto
all nations ; and it first be,gan to be spoken by the Lord,
and was confirmed unto us by them that heard him ; God
182 BEFORE THE SOCIETY FOR THE
also bearing them witness, both with signs and wonders,
and with divers miracles, and gifts of the Holy Ghost, ac
cording to his own will," Heb. ii. 3, 4 : by which means
it was spread very widely among the nations of the world,
and became a witness unto them.
When thus much was accomplished, as there is a won
derful uniformity in the conduct of Providence, Christian
ity was left with Christians, to be transmitted down pure
and genuine, or to be corrupted and sunk ; in like manner
as the religion of nature had been left with mankind in
general. There was however this difference, that by an in
stitution of external religion fitted for all men, (consisting in
a common form of Christian worship, together with a stand
ing 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 pub
lished 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 Providence, that even such of these communities as, in
a long succession of years, have corrupted Christianity the
most, have yet continually carried, together with their cor
ruptions, 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 deceivers
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, which cannot be hid," Matt. v. 14,
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 come nigh unto them." They are re
minded of that religion which natural conscience attests the
PROPAGATION OF THE GOSPEL. 183
truth of ; and they may, if they will, be instructed in it
more distinctly, and likewise in the gracious means where
by sinful creatures may obtain eternal life ; that chief and
final good, which all men, in proportion to their under
standing 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 continued 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
neglect of his appointed part in keeping up the profession
of Christianity amongst mankind. And this neglect, were
it universal, must be the dissolution of the whole visible
church, i. e. of all Christian communities ; and so must pre
vent those good purposes which were intended to be an
swered 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 carried on, more or less, ever
since, and is still carrying 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 gospel to preach unto them that
dwell on the earth, and to every nation, and kindred, and
tongue, and people," Rev. xiv. 6.
Our Lord adds in the text, that this should be "for a
witness unto them ;" for an evidence of their duty, and an
admonition to perform it. But what would be the effect
184 BEFORE THE SOCIETY FOR THE
or success of the general preaching of the gospel, is not
here mentioned. And therefore the prophecy of the text
is not parallel to those others in Scripture, which seemed to
foretell the glorious establishment of Christianity in the last
days ; nor does it appear that they are coincident, other
wise 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 be saved, and come unto the
knowledge of the truth," 1 Tim. ii. 4, though this is the lan
guage of Scripture elsewhere. The text declares no more,
than that it was the appointment of God, in his righteous
government over the world, that " the gospel of the king
dom should be preached for a witness unto it."
The visible constitution and course of nature, the moral
law written in our hearts, the positive institutions of reli
gion, 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
witnesses, 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 remind 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, whether they will hear, or
whether they will forbear, for they are a rebellious house,
yet shall know that there hath been a prophet among them,"
Ezek. ii. 5, 7. And our Lord directs the seventy disci
ples, upon their departure from any city which refused to
receive them, to declare, " notwithstanding, be ye sure of
this, that the kingdom of God is come nigh unto you,"
Luke x. 11. The thing intended in both these passages
is that which is expressed in the text by the word " wit
ness." And all of them together evidently suggest thus
much, that the purposes of Providence are carried on, by
PROPAGATION OF THE GOSPEL. 185
the preaching of the gospel, to those who reject it as well
as to those who embrace it. It is indeed true, " God will-
eth that all men should be saved," yet from the unalter
able constitution of his government, the salvation of every
man cannot but depend upon his behaviour, and therefore
cannot but depend upon himself, and is 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 be profitable unto God, as he
that is wise may be profitable unto himself? Is it any
pleasure to the Almighty that thou art righteous ? or is it
gain to him that thou makest thy ways perfect ?" Job xxii.
2, 3. "If thou be wise, thou shalt be wise for thyself:
but if thou scornest, thou alone shalt bear it," Prov. ix.
12. " He that heareth, let him hear ; and he that forbear-
eth, let him forbear," Ezek. iii. 27. And again, " He
that hath ears to hear, let him hear : but if any man be igno
rant, i. e. wilfully, let him be ignorant," 1 Cor. xiv. 38.
To the same purpose are those awful words of the angel, in
the person of him to whom " all judgment is committed,"
John v. 22 ; " He that is unjust, let him be unjust still ;
and he that is filthy, let him be filthy still ; and he that is
righteous, let him be righteous still ; and he that is holy,
let him be holy still. And, behold, I come quickly ; and
my reward is with me, to give every man according as his
work shall be," Rev. xxii. 11, 12. The righteous govern
ment 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 justke. " Life and death are set before
them, and whether they like shall be given unto them,"
Eccl. xv. 17. 'They are to make their choice, and abide
by it ; but whichsoever their choice be, the gospel is equally
a witness to them ; and the purposes of Providence are
answered by this witness of the gospel.
From the foregoing view of things, we should be remind
ed, that the same reasons which make it our duty to in-
186 BEFORE THE SOCIETY FOR THE
struct the ignorant in the relation which the light of nature
shows they stand in to God their Maker, and in the obliga
tions of obedience, resignation, and love to him, which
arise out of that relation, make it our duty likewise to in
struct them in all those other relations which revelation in
forms us of, and in the obligations of duty which 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 whatever. 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 appointed that men should be
instructed by the assistance of their fellow-creatures in
both. Further : though all knowledge from reason is as
really from God, as revelation is, yet this last is a distin
guished 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 import
ance to us to be informed of. Revelation, therefore, as it
demands to be received 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. Further still : it being
an indispensable law of the gospel, that Christians should
unite in religious communities, and these being intended
for repositories* of the written " oracles of God," for stand
ing memorials of religion to unthinking men, and for the
propagation of it in the world ; Christianity is very particu
larly to be considered as a trust deposited with us in behalf
of others, in behalf of mankind, as well as for our own in
struction. 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
*Page 182.
PROPAGATION OF THE GOSPEL. 187
up the profession of Christianity where he lives. And it
is an obligation but little more remote, 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
obligation 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 inex
cusable to keep them in ignorance of the end for which they
were made, and the means whereby they may become par
takers 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 permit, as
they certainly are, and for our advantage made as miser
able as they well can be in the present world ; this surely ;
heightens our obligation to put them into as advantageous '
a situation as we are able, with regard to another.
The like charity we owe to the natives ; owe to them in
a much stricter sense than we are apt to consider, were it
only from neighbourhood and our having gotten possessions
in their country. For incidental circumstances of this kind
appropriate all the general obligations of charity to parti
cular persons, 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 be
ing in all respects of one family with ourselves, the family
of mankind, and instruct them in our " common salvation,"
Jude 3 ; that they may not pass through this stage of their
188 BEFORE THE SOCIETY FOR THE
being like brute beasts, but be put into a capacity of moral
improvements, how low soever they must remain as to
others, and so into a capacity of qualifying themselves for
a 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 pro
pagating it in every country with which we have any inter
course. And the more widely we endeavour to spread its
light and influence, as the fore-mentioned circumstances,
and others of the 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 perse
verance in these endeavours, to observe, not only that they
are our duty, but also that they seem the means of carry
ing on a great scheme of Providence, which shall certainly
be accomplished. For " the everlasting gospel shall be
preached to every nation ;" Rev. xiv. 6 ; " and the king
doms of this world shall become the kingdoms of our Lord,
and of his Christ," Rev. xi. 15.
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 mankind appeared
to be as little as our adversaries pretend. 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 Christianity in any place, even the external form and
profession 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 standing pub-
* Page 186.
PROPAGATION OF THE GOSPEL. 189
lication of the gospel, and renders it a witness to them ;
and by this means the purposes of Providence are carrying
on, with regard to remote ages, as well as to the present.
" Cast thv bread upon the waters : for thou shalt find it
after many days. In the morning sow thy seed, and in
the evening withhold not thine hand; for thou knowest
not whether shall prosper, either this or that, or whether
they both shall be alike good," Eccles. xi. 1, 6. We can
look but a very little way into the connexions and conse
quences of things : our duty is to spread the incorruptible
seed as widely as we can, and leave it to " God to give the
increase," 1 Cor. iii. 6. 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, per
haps, 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 mixed among
the rest of mankind ; who, not being corrupted past
amendment, but having within them the principles of re
covery, will be brought to a moral and religious sense of
things, by the establishment of Christianity where they
live ; and then will be influenced 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 bearing fruit, and
bringing forth, some an hundred fold, some sixty, some
thirty," Matt. xiii. 23. One might add that these persons,
in proportion 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 con
tradiction to all order and government, and, if not checked,
must be the subversion of it.
These important purposes, which are certainly to be ex
pected from the good work before us, may serve to show
how little weight there is in that objection against it, from
190 BEFORE THE SOCIETY FOR THE
the want of those miraculous assistances with which the first
preachers of Christianity proved its truth. The plain state
of the case is, that the gospel, though it be not in the same
degree a witness to all who have made it 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 admonition 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 evidence in pro
portion to their capacities. And there are persons of small
capacities for inquiry and examination, who yet are wrought
upon by it to " deny ungodliness and worldly lusts, and
live soberly, righteously, and godly in this present world,"
Tit. ii. 12, 13, 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,
whether it be of God," John vii. 17. And, since the whole
end of Christianity is to influence the heart and actions,
were 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 ob
served to manage their worldly affairs with discretion.
The design before us being therefore in general unexcep-
tionably good, it were much to be wished, that serious men
of all denominations would 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 useful importance, that of spreading over
the world the Scripture itself, as a divine revelation; and
it cannot be spread under this character, for a continuance,
in any country, unless Christian churches be supported
PROPAGATION OF THE GOSPEL. 191
there, but will always, more or less, so long as such
churches subsist : and, therefore, their subsistence 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. And though they think ours liable to objec
tions, 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, to
gether with our particular form of Christianity, the con
fessed standard of Christian religion, the Scripture, 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 consequence one
way, than the supposed wrong can be on the other.
To conclude : atheistical immorality and profaneness,
surely, is not better in itself, nor less contrary to the de
sign of revelation, than superstition. Nor is superstition
the distinguishing vice of the present age, either at home or
abroad. But if our colonies abroad are left without a pub
lic religion, and the means of instmction, what can be
expected, but that from living in a continual forgetfulness
of God, they will at length cease to believe in him, and so
sink into stupid atheism ? And there is too apparent
danger of the like horrible depravity at home, without the
like excuse for it. Indeed, amongst creatures naturally
formed for religion, yet so much under the powers of ima
gination, 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 re
ligion is a great security, and the only one. True religion
192 BEFORE THE SOCIETY FOR THE
takes up 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 con
trary, the danger of superstition cannot but be increased by
the prevalence of irreligion, and by its general prevalence
the evil will be unavoidable. For the common people
wanting a religion, will of course take up with almost any
superstition which 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 them
selves 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
shows this, and history and fact confirm it. But what
brings the observation 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 associations 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 unexcep
tionable. They ought therefore to come into those already
formed to their hands, and even take advantage of any
occasion of union, to add mutual force to each other's
endeavours in furthering their common end, however they
may differ as to the best means, or any thing else subordi
nate to it. Indeed there are well-disposed persons, who
PROPAGATION OF THE GOSPEL. 193
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 rectifying
what they think capable of amendment, in the manner of
carrying on these designs, unless they will join in the de
signs themselves, which they must acknowledge to be good
and necessary ones. For what can be called good and ne
cessary by Christians, 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 wick
edness, and trained up to destruction ? Yet good men, se
parately, can do nothing proportionable to what is wanting
in any of these ways ; but their common, united endea
vours, 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 obtaining here,
the gospel is rendered more and more a witness to us.
And if it were duly attended to, and had its genuine
influence upon our minds, there would be no need of per
suasions to impart the blessing ; nor would the means of
doing it be wanting. Indeed, the present income of this
Society, wrhich 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
K
H)1 J'Ki; ACHED BEFORE
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 the seat of
learning, a very few ages, in all probability, would settle
Christianity in every country, without miraculous assist
ances. 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 exemplification of it in
the lives of Christian nations. " The unlearned and un
believers, falling down on their faces, would worship God,
and report that God is in us of a truth," 1 Cor. xiv. 24,
25.
SERMON II,
I'REVCHED BEFORE THE RIGHT HON. THE LORD MAYOR, THE COURT
OK ALDERMEN, THE SHERIFFS, AND THE GOVERNORS OP THE
SEVERAL HOSPITALS OF THE CITY OF LONDON,
At Ike Parish Church of St. Bridget, onMonday in Easter- Week, 1740.
The rich and poor meet together : the Lord is the maker of
them all. — PROVERBS xxii. 2.
THE constitution of things 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 prudent ma
nagement. Thus some would very soon acquire greater
plenty of necessaries than they had occasion for, and others,
THE LORD MAYOR, &C. 195
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,
which he would scarce fail to make use of instead of his
own, perhaps together with them, to provide future ne
cessaries in greater plenty. Riches, 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 understanding and strength. Riches themselves have
always this source ; though the possession of them is con
veyed to particular persons by different channels. Yet
still, "the hand of the diligent maketh rich," Prov. x. 4,
and, other circumstances being equal, in proportion to its
diligence.
But to return to the first rich man ; whom we loft in
possession of dependents, and plenty of necessaries for him
self and them. A family would not be long in this state,
before conveniences, somewhat ornamental, and for enter
tainment, would be wanted, looked for, and found out. And,
by degrees, these secondary wants, and inventions for the
supply of them, the fruits of leisure and ease, came to em
ploy much of men's time and leisure. Hence a new species
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
superfluities of life took in a vast larger compass of tilings
than the necessaries 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
he employed, and a very few of them would now be suffi
cient to provide the world with necessaries ; and therefore
the rest of them must be employed about what may be
called superfluities; which could not be, if these super
fluities were not made use of. Yet the desire of such
K 2
196 PREACHED BEFORE
things 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 there -
fore 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 progress
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 embarrassed trade and commerce, and have set
bounds to the increase of riches in all hands, as well as
confined them in the hands of a few. But, in process of
time, it wras agreed to substitute somewhat 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 money should
answer all things, together with some other improvements,
gave full scope for riches to increase in the hands of par
ticular persons, and likewise to circulate into more hands.
Now this, though it was not the first origin of covetous-
ness, yet it gives greater scope, encouragement, and tempta
tion 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," 1 Tim. vi. 10 ; though riches
themselves may be made instrumental in promoting every
thing that is good.
THE LORD MAYOR, &C. 197
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 man
kind. Now these persons must remember, that whether, in
common language, they do, or do not, pass under the de
nomination 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 with the poor, they are able to con
tribute very largely to their relief, and have in 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 ac
count of them has been laid before 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
occasions for them greater, in proportion as industry should
abate, or luxury increase. And the temper of covctousness
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 in
cluded 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 meet upon a footing of great
inequality. For, as Solomon expresses it in brief, and with
much force, " the rich ruleth over the poor," Prov. xxii. 7-
And thus their general intercourse, with the superiority on
one hand, and dependence on the other, are in no sort ac
cidental, but arise necessarily from a settled providential
198 PREACHED BEFORE
disposition of things, for their common good. Here, then,
is a real standing relation between 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
occasion 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 obli
gations to them strongly enforced, by a little further reflec
tion 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 track of living, into which they got by direction or
example ; and to this their understanding and discourse, as
well as labour, are greatly confined. Their opinions of
persons and things they take upon trust : their behaviour
has very little 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 influ
ence. 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 dis
tribution 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 encouragement of various kinds.
And experience shows, 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-crea
tures, greatly depend upon them ; much more indeed than
they would, if the common people were not 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
THE LORD MAYOR, &C. 199
superiority goes along with riches ? It is no small part of
it which arises out of riches themselves. In all govern
ments, particularly in our own, a good share of civil autho
rity accompanies them. Superior or natural understand
ing may, or may not ; but when it does not, yet riches
afford great opportunities for improvement, and may com
mand information : which things together are equivalent to
natural superiority of understanding.
But I am sure you will not think I have been reminding
you of these advantages of riches, in order to beget in you
that complacency and trust in them, which you find the
Scripture every where 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 shows how very blameable even
their carelessness in the use of that power and influence
must he : since it must be blameable in a degree propor
tionate 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 blameable 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 distresses, 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, Providence has made pro
vision for this case of the poor ; not only by forming their
minds peculiarly apt to be influenced by their superiors, and
giving those superior abilities to direct and relieve them.
20G PREACHED BEFORE
but also by putting the latter under the care and protection
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 unavoidably necessary. In the
primitive ages of the world, the manner in which " the rich
and poor met together," was in families. Rich 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 instruction of these
large families, and the oversight of their morals and religion,
plainly belonged to the heads of them. And that obvious
humanity, which every one feels, must have induced them
to be kind to all whom they found under their roof, in
sickness and in 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 carying on busi
ness, which yet are not blameable. But the relation still
subsists, and the obligations arising out of it ; and cannot
but remain 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 de
pend 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
men are united, has, by this constitution of things, formally
put the poor under the superintendency and patronage of
THE LORD MAYOR, &C. 201
the rich.' The rich then are charged, by natural provi
dence, as much as by revealed appointment, with the care
of the poor: not to maintain them idle; which, were it
possible they could be so maintained, would produce greater
mischiefs 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 virtue and religion.
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 faithfully, 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 respects, 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,
keeping up a sense of virtue and religion among the poor,
and relieving their wants ; each as much as he can be per
suaded 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 doing an incredible deal of mischief,
were it only by his example and influence ; besides neglect
ing the most important obligations, which 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
K 3
202 PREACHED BEFORE
great 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 man hath received the
gift, even so minister the same one to another, as good
stewards of the manifold grace of God," 1 Pet. iv. 10.
And as rich men, by a right direction of their greater capa
city, may entitle themselves to a greater reward ; so, by
a wrong direction of it, or even by great negligence, they
may become "partakers of other men's sins," 1 Tim. v. 22,
and chargeable 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
" unto whomsoever much is given, of him shall be much
required : and to whom much is committed, of him shall
more be demanded," Luke xii. 48.
But still it is to be remembered, that every man's beha
viour is his own concern, for every one must give an ac
count of his -own works ; and that the lower people are
very greatly to blame in yielding to any ill influence, par
ticularly following the ill example of their superiors ;
though these are more to blame in setting them such an
example. For, as our Lord declares", in the words imme
diately preceding those just mentioned, " That servant
which knew his Lord's will, and prepared not himself,
neither did according to his will, shal^ be beaten with many
stripes. But he that knew not, and did commit things
worthy of stripes, shall be beaten with few stripes," Luke
xii. 47, 48. 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 who knew not his Lord's will, and
THE LORD MAYOR, &C. 203
committed things worthy of stripes, shall be beaten, though
with few stripes." 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 superiors, 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 understanding,
though it is by means of Christianity chiefly, that it is thus
enforced upon our consciences. And Christianity, as it is
more than a dispensation of goodness, in the general notion
of goodness, even a dispensation of forgiveness, of 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 lit-
sent his Son to be the propitiation for our sins. Beloved,
if God so loved us, we ought also to love one another,'*
1 John iv. 9 — 11. With what unanswerable force is
that question of our Lord to be applied to every branch of
this duty, " Shouldest not thou also have compassion on
thy fellow-servant, even as I had pity on thee?" Matt.
xviii. 33. And can there be a stronger inducement to en
deavour the reformation of the world, and bring it to a
sense of virtue and religion, than the assurance given us,
" that he which converteth a sinner from the error of his
way," and, in like manner, he also who preventeth a per
son's being corrupted, by taking care of his education,
" shall save a soul from death, and hide a multitude of
sins ?'' James v. 20.
204 PREACHED BEFORE
These things lead us to the following observations 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 degree, that we bestow it upon
the proper objects of charity. One hears persons complain
ing that it is difficult to distinguish who are such : yet
often seeming to forget, that this is the reason for using their
best endeavours to do it. And others make a custom of
giving to idle vagabonds ; a kind of charity, very impro
perly 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 that 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 disor
ders which accompany it. By 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.*
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 inhabitable place.
* Here the report was read.
THE LORD MAYOR, &C. SO."*
'1. 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,"
Luke x. 37. Educating poor children in virtue and reli
gion, relieving the sick, and correcting offenders in order to
their amendment, are in themselves some of the very best
of good works. These charities 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 increases 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 imitated every one
of these charities : for, of late, the most difficult and expen
sive of them, hospitals for the sick and wounded, have been
established : 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 con
ducted with such disinterested fidelity and prudence as I
dare venture to compare with yours. Again, there art-
particular persons very blameably inactive and careless,
yet not without good dispositions, who, by these charities,
* As it is of very particular benefit to those who ought always to be
looked upon with particular favour by us, I mean our seamen, <o likewise
it is of very extensive benefit to the large tracts of country west and nortli
»f it. Then the medical waters near the city render it a still more proper
situation for an infirmary ; and so likewise does 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 after
wards be found to require the assistance of physic or surgery ; and on the other
hand, that some may be sent to our infirmary for help from those arts
whose case may be found to require the Bath-waters. So that, if I am
not greatly partial, the Bristol infirmary as much deserves encouragement
as any charitable foundation in the kingdom.
206 PREACHED BEFORE
are reminded of their duty, and "provoked to love and to
good works," Heb. x. 24. 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 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,"
Phil. i. 18.
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 this
kind of punishments answer these purposes better than it
does, would be a great improvement. And whether it be not
a thing practicable, and what would contribute somewhat
towards 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 poverty ; 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 understood to discourage the pro
vision which is made for it in this latter case : I heartily
THE LORD MAYOR, &C. 207
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 acknowledged 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 oifenders
who are to return again into the world, than those who
are to be removed out of it : and the only effectual 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 suppo
sition of an equality amongst mankind than the constitu
tion and laws of any other countries. Now, this plainly
requires that more particular regard should be had to the
education of the lower people here than in places where
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 in
ward principle, to prevent their abusing this greater liberty,
which is their birthright, can we expect it will prove a
blessing to them ? Or will they not, in all probability,
become more dissolute, or more wild and extravagant,
whatever 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 particular care of
their whole behaviour, that it be in all respects good and
208 PREACHED BEFORE
exemplary, upon account of the influence which it will
have upon the manners of their inferiors. And pray ob
serve 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 contrary 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 have 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
discountenanced, this will confirm them in the good princi
ples 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 dis
cipline of labour and confinement. Again ; dissolute and
debauched persons of fortune greatly increase the general
corruption of manners ; and this is what increases want
and 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, suppose by their example, is an additional
reason why they should contribute to them ; even in jus
tice to particular 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 commendation, how
blameable soever they 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
THE LORD MAYOR, &C. 209
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 con
tributing, by the example of their vices, to the introduction
of that distress which they so commendably relieve by
their liberality.
To conclude : let our charity towards men be exalted
into piety towards God, from the serious consideration, that
we are all his creatures, a consideration which enforces that
duty upon our consciences, as we have any regard 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 prin
ciple itself, which contains in it every thing great, and just,
and good, is grievously forgotten among us. To relieve
the poor for God's sake, is 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
poor, lendeth unto the J^ord," Prov. xix. 17. And our
Saviour has declared, that he will take, as given to him
self, what is given in a well-chosen charity, Matt. xxv. 40.
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 hereafter upon a level, before him
who "is the Maker of them all."
SERMON III,
PREACHED BEFORE THE HOUSE OF LORDS, IN THE ABBEY
CHURCH OF WESTMINSTER.
On Friday, 30th January, 1740-41,
Being the day appointed to be observed as the day of the Martyrdom
of King Charles I.
And not using your liberty for a cloak of maliciousness, but
as the servants of God. — 1 PETER ii. 16.
AN history so full of important and interesting events as
that which this day recalls annually to our thoughts, cannot
but afford them very different subjects for their most serious
and useful employment. But there seems none which it
more naturally leads us to consider than that of hypocrisy,
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 re
ligious 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 signifies little more
than their pretending what they do not really mean, in
order to delude one another. But, in Scripture, which
treats chiefly of our behaviour towards God and our own
consciences, it signifies not only the endeavour to delude
PREACHED BEFORE THE HOUSE OF LORDS. 211
our fellow-creatures, but likewise insincerity towards Him,
and towards ourselves. And, therefore, according to the
whole analogy of scriptural language, " to use liberty as a
cloak of maliciousness,"* must be understood to mean, not
* The hypocrisy laid to the charge of the Pharisees and Sadducees, in
Matt. xvi. at the beginning, and in Luke xii. 54, is deteroiinately 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 ne
cessary 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 character ; 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. Psa.
Ixxviii. 36. Job viii. 13, and Matt. xv. 7—14, and xxiii. 13, 16, 19, 24,
26, where hypocrite and blind are used promiscuously. Again, the Scrip
ture speaks of the " deceitfulness of sin ;" and its deceiving those who are
guilty of it; Heb. iii. 13. Eph. iv. 22. Rom. vii. 11 : 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 own eyes;" Matt. xiii. 15. Acts xxviii.
27 ; and " deceiving themselves," which is quite a different thing from
being deceived, 1 Cor. iii. 18. 1 John i. 8. Gal. vi. 3. James i. 22, 26.
Many more coincident passages might be mentioned ; but I will add only
one. In 2 Thess. ii. 11, it is foretold, that by means of some force, some
energy of delusion, 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 unrighteousness."
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, u he that hath ears to hear, 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 it 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
BEFORE THE HOUSE OF LORDS,
only endeavouring to impose upon others, by indul-m<c
wayward passions, or carrying on indirect designs, under
•etences of it; but also excusing and palliating such
tilings 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," Rom. viii.
21. This last is a progressive state : and the perfection of
it, whether attainable in this world or not, consists in that
"perfect love," 1 John iv. 18, which St. John speaks of;
and which, as it implies 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 what
ever St. Peter distinctly meant by this word liberty, 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 government; for of civil government he is
speaking just before and afterwards, 1 Peter ii. 13 : " Sub
mit yourselves to every ordinance of man for the Lord's
sake ; whether it be to the king, as supreme ; or unto
governors, as unto them that are sent by him. For so is
the will of God, that with well-doing," of which dutiful
behaviour towards authority is a very material instance,
ovidencc 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-
cileable with what is vicious, it is some faulty negligence, or prejudice,
which thus deludes them ; in very different ways, perhaps, and very dif
ferent 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 pro
perly 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 hypocrite towards him, in as strict and literal a
sense as the nature of the subject will admit.
JANUARY 30, 1740-41. 213
" ye may put to silence the ignorance of foolish men : as
free," perhaps in distinction from the servile state of which
he speaks afterwards, 1 Peter ii. 10, "and not using your
liberty for a cloak of maliciousness," of any thing wrong,
for so the word signifies ; and therefore comprehends petu
lance, affectation of popularity, with any other like fri
volous 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, " but as the servants of God ; as free — but
as his servants," who requires a 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 it, as well as for all other parts of our beha
viour. " Not using your liberty as a cloak of malicious
ness, but as the servants of God."
Here are three things offered to our consideration :
First, 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 : 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, " but" to use it u a.>
the servants of God."
I. Here is a general supposition, that what is wrong can
not be avowed in its proper colours, but stands in need of
cloak to be thrown over it. God has constituted our
nature, and the nature of society, after such a manner, that,
generally speaking, men cannot encourage or support them
selves in wickedness, upon the footing 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 go-
2H BEFORE THE HOUSE OP LORDS,
vernment 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 themselves, and delude their own
consciences. And the delusion in both cases being volun
tary, is, in Scripture, called by one name, and spoken
against in the- same manner ; though, doubtless, they are
much more explicit with themselves, and more distinctly
conscious of what they are about in one case than in the
other.
The fundamental laws of all governments are virtuous
ones, prohibiting treachery, injustice, cruelty ; and the law
of reputation enforces those civil laws, by rendering these
vices every where infamous, and the contrary virtues ho
nourable, and of good report. Thus far the constitution
of society is visibly moral ; and hence it is, that men can
not live in it without taking care to cover those vices when
they have them, and make some profession of the opposite
virtues, fidelky, 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, jus
tice, public regards, in cases where there could be no ima
gination of their being believed. And what other account
can be given of these merely verbal professions, but that
they were thought the proper language for the public ear ;
and made in business, for the very same kind of reasons as
civility is kept up in conversation.
These false professions of virtue, which men have in all
ao-es found it necessary to make their appearance with
JANUARY 30, 1740-41. 215
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.
There is doubtless among 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 "without God in the world," Eph. ii. 12 ; and some
appear so hardened, as to keep no measures with them
selves. 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 them
selves, and dislike and be disgusted with their own cha
racter and conduct, if they would consider them distinctly,
and in a full light. But this sometimes they carelessly
neglect to do, and sometimes carefully avoid doino-. And
as " the integrity of the upright guides him," Prov. xi. 3,
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 darkness,"
Isa. v. 20 ; and " think wickedly, 'that God is such an one
as himself," Psa. 1. 21. 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 themselves as well as upon the world,
and with at least as much success ; and choose to manage
216 BEFORE THE HOUSE OF LORDS,
so as to make their own minds 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 accomplished, or
even attempted, but under false colours ; either by pretend
ing 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 body else knows it too.
These observations might be exemplified by numerous
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 subverting 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 ex
press contradiction to the real design and public votes of
that assembly, whose commission, they professed, was their
only warrant for any thing they did throughout the whole
rebellion. Yet, with unheard-of hypocrisy towards men,
towards God, and their 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
JANUARY 30, 1740-41. 217
regular legal procedures. No age, indeed, can show an
example of hypocrisy parallel to this. But the history of
all ages, and all countries, will show 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 where professed much more than it has been
dny where practised ; nor could society, from the very na
ture 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
life, and in pursuit of further ends, is the justest satire upon
what has in all times been carrying on under it, and ill men
are destined, by the condition of their being as social crea
tures, always to bear about with them, and in different de
grees, 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 indi
rect and wrong designs from the world, and to palliate 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 religion, but of securing 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 warrant
able, though it had been employed in the destruction of
heathenism. And the confusions, the persecuting spirit,
and incredible fanaticism, which grew up upon its ruins,
cannot but teach sober-minded men to reverence so mild
and reasonable an establishment, 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 igno
rant : nay, were it only for guarding religion from such
L
218 BEFORE THE HOUSE OF LORDS,
extravagances : especially as these important purposes are
served by it, without bearing hard in the least upon any.
And the concurrent course of things, which brought on
-f "|| the ruin of our civil constitution, and what followed upon it,
are no less instructive. The opposition, by legal and par
liamentary methods, to prerogatives unknown to the consti
tution, was doubtless formed upon the justest fears in be
half of it. But new distrusts 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 apprehensive ; 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, with 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
observation, that " the beginning of strife is as when one
letteth out water," Prov. xvii. 14. For this opposition,
thus began, surely without intent of proceeding to violence ;
yet, as it went on like an overflowing stream in its pro
gress, it collected all sorts 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
an arbitrary power in one shape, which was odious to every
body, and which could 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 was 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 depression
and compliance, not only of the more guilty, but also
of those who, with bitter meaning, had gone on with
them ; (and a great deal too far many of this character had
JANUARY 30, 1740-41. 219
gone;) and such, the undistinguishing distrust the people
had of them all, that the chief securities of our liberties
seem to have been, their not being attempted at that time.
But though persons contributed to all this mischief 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 un
just, since it is romantic to suppose it legal ; it cannot be
prosecuted without the most wicked means, nor accom
plished but with the present ruin of liberty, religious as well
as civil ; for it must be the ruin of its present security.
\\hereas the restoration of it must depend upon a thousand
future contingencies, the integrity, understanding, power,
of the persons into whose hands anarchy and confusion
should throw things ; and who they will be, the history
before us may surely serve to show no human foresight
can determine ; even though such a terrible crisis were to
happen in an age not distinguished 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 possibly 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 attempt
ing to put in practice the most perfect theory, that it is im
practicable or too dangerous to be attempted. And who
ever 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
L 2
220 BEFORE THE HOUSE OF LORDS,
the directors are so very numerous, and the obedient so
few. Reasonable 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.
But liberty is in many other dangers from itself, besides
those which arise from formed designs of destroying it,
under hypocritical pretences, or romantic schemes of re
storing it upon a more perfect plan. It is particularly lia
ble to become excessive, and to degenerate insensibly into
licentiousness ; in the same manner as liberality, for exam
ple, 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 licen
tiousness 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 excess, 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 licen
tiousness 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 excess of
liberty 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 re
taliate safely ? When by popular insurrections, or defama
tory 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 single tyrant
used them thus. A particular man may be licentious with-
JANUARY 30, 1740-41. 221
out being less free ; but a community cannot, since the
licentiousness of one will unavoidably break in upon the
liberty of another. Civil liberty, the liberty of a commu
nity, is a severe and a restrained thing ; implies in the no
tion 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 the 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 hypocritical 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 pretence of authority, or by
persons invested with it ; the other, lawless power exercised
under pretence of liberty, or without any pretence at all ?
A people, then, must always be less free, in proportion as
they are more licentious ; licentiousness being not only dif
ferent 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 a 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 remedies of
them.* I said legal government ; for, in the present state
of the world, there is no danger of our becoming savages.
Had licentiousness finished its work, and destroyed our con-
* Nee vitia nostra, nee remedia pati possumus. Liv. li. c. 1 .
222 BEFORE THE HOUSE OF LORDS,
stitution, 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 a habit
of submission to the subordinations in civil life, throughout
its several ranks ; nor is a people capable of liberty without
somewhat of this kind. But it must be observed, and less
surely cannot be observed, 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 subor
dinations in life a providential appointment of things. Now,
let it be considered, for surely it is not duly considered,
what is really the short amount of those representations
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 circumstances, be
yond 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 upon 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 superiors 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 be, or worse than they are told their superiors
are ? And is there no danger that all this, to mention only
one supposable course of it, may raise somewhat like that
levelling spirit, upon atheistical principles, which in the last
age prevailed upon enthusiastic ones ? 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 ill humours, and of persons
who hope to find their account in confusion, soon prevail to
JANUARY 30, 1740-41. , 223
such a degree, as will require more of the good old princi
ples of loyalty and of religion to withstand it, than appear
to be left amongst us ?
What legal remedies can be provided against these mis
chiefs, or whether any at all, are considerations the farthest
from my thoughts. No government 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 govern
ment forbids any but legal methods of redress, which can
not 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 provide
against at all, but by methods dangerous to liberty ; nor
fully but by such as would be fatal to it. These things
show, that liberty, in the very nature of it, absolutely re
quires, and even supposes, that people be able to govern
themselves in those respects in which they are free ; other
wise their wickedness will be in proportion to their liberty,
and this greatest of blessings will become a curse.
III. These things show likewise, that there is but one
adequate remedy to the fore-mentioned evils, even that
which the apostle prescribes in the last words of the text,
to consider ourselves " as the servants of God," who enjoins
dutiful submission to civil authority as his 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 government, government
is plainly a divine appointment ; and consequently submis
sion 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
conscience in Scripture. Nor can this obligation be denied
formally upon any principles, but such as subvert all other
224 BEFORE THE HOUSE OF LORDS,
obligations. Yet many amongst us seem not to consider it
as any obligation at all. This doubtless is, in a great mea
sure, owing to dissoluteness and corruption of manners ; but
I think it is partly owing to their having reduced it to
nothing in theory ; whereas this obligation ought to be put
upon the same footing 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 this general rule. And they who are per
petually displaying the exceptions, though they do not
indeed contradict the meaning of any particular text of
Scripture, which surely intended to make no alteration 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 them
selves to make the exceptions, and not to need being con
tinually 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 dominion, and speak evil of
dignities," Jude 8, should seriously ask themselves, what
restrains them from any other instance whatever of undutiful-
ness ? And if it be principle, why not from this ? Indeed,
free government supposes, that the conduct of affairs may be
inquired into, and spoken of with 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 increases, in proportion to the in
tegrity and superior rank of the persons thus treated. It is
therefore in the highest degree immoral, when it extends to
JANUARY 30, 1740-41. 225
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 not but make any virtuous people happy.
A free government, which the good providence of God
has preserved to us through innumerable dangers, is an
invaluable blessing. And our ingratitude to him, in abus
ing of it, must be great in proportion to the greatness of
the blessing, and the providential deliverances by which it
has been preserved 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.
The abuse of liberty has directly overturned many free
governments, as well as our own, on the popular side ; and
has, in various ways, contributed to the ruin of many which
have been overturned 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 with whom we have to do," Heb. iv. 13.
Artificial behaviour might perhaps 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
government " there is no darkness, nor shadow of death,
where the workers of iniquity may hide themselves," Job
xxxiv. 22. He has indeed instituted civil government over
the face of the earth, " for the punishment of evil doers, and
for the praise," — the apostle does not say the rewarding, but
— " for the praise of them that do well," 1 Pet. ii. 14. Yet
as the worst answer these ends in some measure, the best
226 PREACHED AT
can do it very imperfectly. Civil government 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 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
beneficial to society ; nor can it in any wise execute j udg-
ment in rewarding what is good, as it can, and ought, and
does, in punishing what is evil. But " God shall bring
every word into judgment, with every secret thing, whether
it be good* or whether it be evil," Eccles. xii. 14.
SEBMON 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.
Train up a child in the way he should go ; and when he is
old he will not depart from it. — PROV. xxii. 6.
HUMAN 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 likewise every one's observation. Now, whenever
children are left to themselves, and to the guides and com-
CHRIST-CHURCH, LONDON. 2.'! ^
panions 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, con
sequently, must be their habits, and character, and future
behaviour. Thus, if they are not trained up in the way
they " should go," they will certainly be trained up the way
they should not go ; and, in all probability, 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 be
fore 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 deference is still greater towards
those who are placed over them : these things give the
justest grounds to expect, that they may receive such im
pressions, and be influenced to such a course of behaviour,
as will produce lasting good habits ; and, together with the
dangers before mentioned, are as truly a natural demand
upon us to " train them up in the way they should go," as
their bodily wants are a demand to provide them bodily
nourishment. Brute creatures are appointed to do no moie
that 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, considering
communities collectively, every successive generation is
left, in the ordinary course of Providence, 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 violated, chiefly in the management of youth.
We ought, doubtless, to instruct and admonish grown
persons, to restrain them from what is evil, and encourage
them in what is good, as we are able ; but this care of
228 PREACHED AT
youth, abstracted from all consideration of the parental
affection : I say, this care of youth, which is the general
notion of education, becomes a distinct subject and a dis
tinct duty, from the particular danger of their ruin, if left
to themselves, 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 could express
them, I proceed to consider distinctly, the general manner
in which the duty of education is there laid before us ;
which will further show 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 children, and
in what light the objections against them are to be regarded.
Solomon might probably intend the text for a particular
admonition, to educate children in a manner suitable to
their respective ranks and future employments : but cer
tainly 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 way they should go,"
i. e. he mentions it not as a matter of speculation, but of
practice. And conformably 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 endea
vouring to form such truths into practical principles in the
irind, so as to render them of habitual good influence upon
the temper and actions, in all the various occurrences of
CHRIST-CHURCH, LONDON. 229
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 exer
cising 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," Eph. vi. 4,
as it were by way of distinction from acquainting them
merely with the principles 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 life, yet there
would be great reason for it, notwithstanding the frivolous
objections concerning 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 shows such objections to be quite absurd ;
since it shows them to be objections against doing a thing
of the utmost importance at the natural opportunity of our
doing it, childhood and youth ; and which is indeed, pro
perly speaking, our only one. For when they are grown
up to maturity, they arj out of our hands, and must be
left to themselves. The natural authority on one side
ceases, and the deference on the other. God forbid, that
it should be impossible for men to recollect themselves,
and reform at an advanced age ; but it is in no sort in the
power of others to gain upon them, to turn them away
from what is wrong, and enforce upon them what is right,
at that season of their lives, in the manner we might 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 even of
these fundamental truths; but in our being brought by
230 PREACHED AT
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 in 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 be
coming 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 dis
pensation we are under, and which will bring us to our
final good ; children ought, by education, 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 corrupt themselves, and spoil their
proper nature ; they will alienate themselves farther from
God ; and not only neglect, but " trample under foot,"
the means which he, in his infinite mercy, has appointed
for our recovery. And upon the whole, the same rea
sons which show, that they ought to be instructed and ex
ercised 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 ; show likewise, that they ought
to be instructed and exercised in what is suitable to the
highest relations in which we stand, and the most import
ant 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 principal security of men's act
ing a right part in society, and even in respect to their own
temporal happiness, all things duly considered.
It is true, indeed, children may be taught superstition
CHRIST-CHURCH, LONDON. 231
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, respect-"
ing the present world. But this is no more a reason for
not educating 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 very best of good works. One would
be backward, methinks, in entertaining prejudices against it :
and very forward, if one had any, to lay them aside, upon
being shown 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, than 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 neces
sary 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
232 PREACHED AT
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 sufficient 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 must be
poor children, who, besides this, want to be educated by
charity. And whenever there began to be need of legal
provision for the maintenance of the poor, there must imme
diately have been need also of some particular legal provi
sion 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 ap
pear, 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 possi
ble. Thus the legal provision for the poor was first settled,
without any particular consideration of that additional want
in the case of children ; as it still remains with scarce any
alteration in this respect. In the mean time, as the poor
still increased, or charity still lessened, many poor children
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 supposed 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
CHRIST-CHURCH, LONDON. 233
a degree, as to be quite out of the compass of separate cha
rities to remedy. At length some excellent persons, who
were united in a Society* for carrying on almost every
good work, took into consideration the 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 childen 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
religion, as well as civil life ; and likewise making some
sort of provision for their maintenance : under which last I
include clothing them, giving them such learning, 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 chil
dren 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
admitted into any schools, without some charitable provi
sion 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 education, gives them any little vanity,
as has been poorly objected, whilst they are children, it is
scarce possible but that it will have 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 apprehensive 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 apprehensive of the like
* Society for Promoting Christian Knowledge.
234 PREACHED AT
danger for themselves or their own children, in respect of
riches or power, how much soever ; though the danger of
perverting these advantages is surely as great, and the per
version itself of much greater and worse consequence. And
by what odd reverse of things has it happend, 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 keeping them more inferior in this
respect, and, which must be the consequence in other re
spects, than they were in times past ? For, till within a cen
tury 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 instru
mental for the future in carrying on the appointed 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, whether immediately or remotely, the methods
of carrying on business are, in several respects, improved,
" knowledge has been increased," Dan. xii. 4 ; and some
sort of literature is become general. And if this be a bless
ing, 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 accounts, 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
have some knowledge of letters, which was not the case then.
And therefore, to bring up the poor in their former igno
rance, 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 they were
in formerly. Nor let people of rank natter themselves,
CHRIST-CHURCH, LONDON. 235
that ignorance will keep their inferiors more dutiful and in
greater subjection to them : for surely there must be dan
ger, that it will have a contrary effect, under a free govern
ment 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 example 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
improvement. 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
affairs ; 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 influ
ence 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 know
ledge, and confirming themselves in those good principles,
which will be a great security for their following the ex
ample of their superiors, if it be good, and some sort of pre
servative against their following it, if it be bad .' And se
rious persons will farther 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 Rome ; and from our small public care and pro
vision 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
236 PREACHED AT
an additional reason why 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 igno
rance 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 pre
valence of true religion. But some of these observations
may perhaps be thought too remote from the present occa
sion. It is more obviously to the purpose of it to observe,
that reading, writing, and accounts, are useful, and 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 soon as they
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 domes
tic government, 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 their 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 distinguished capa
city, there can be no impropriety in placing these in em
ployments adapted to their particular cases ; though such
as would be very improper 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 contented, whatever their particular
CHRIST-CHURCH, LONDON. 237
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 reli
gious part of education, which 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 con
sider it.
For if poor children are not sent to school, several years
of their childhood, of course, pass away in idleness and loi
tering. This has a tendency to give them perhaps a feeble
listlessness, perhaps a headstrong profligateness of mind ;
certainly an indisposition to proper application as they grow
up, and an aversion afterwards, not only to the restraints 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 em
ployment, 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 industry 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 ; without which, however, it will be imprac
ticable to employ their time ; not to repeat the unanswer
able 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.
238 PREACHED AT
Consider next the manner in which the children of the
poor, who have vicious parents, are brought up in compari
son with other children whose parents are of the same cha
racter. 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, hy means of a customary distance between them, which
cannot be kept amongst the poor. Nor is it impossible 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 improvement in the com
mon accomplishments belonging to it, is of course, as yet,
for the most part, attended with some sort of religious edu
cation. But the poor, as they cannot provide persons to
educate their children ; so, from the way in which they
live together in poor families, a child must be an eye and
ear- witness of the worst part of his parent's talk and beha
viour. 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 authority with them, when there is no
thing to balance it on the other side. Now, take in the
supposition that these parents are dissolute, profligate peo
ple ; 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 children will have
their characters formed to vice, by those whose business 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
CHRIST-CHURCH, LONDON. 239
adequate one, yet such an one as it can; unless it be
thought so rare as not to deserve our attention. But, in
reality, though there should be no more parents of this cha
racter amongst the poor in proportion, than amongst the
rich, the case which I have been putting will be far from
being uncommon. Now, notwithstanding 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 families, there is ground to
hope they may avoid those ill courses, and escape that ruin
into which, 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 chil
dren a good example, will likewise repeat and enforce
upon them at home the good instructions they receive at
school.
After 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 cli
mate than in a good 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
came out into the world, may more or less defeat the good
effects of their education. And so likewise may the charac
ter of men of rank, under whose influence they are to live.
But whatever danger may be apprehended from either or
both of these, it can be no reason why we should not en
deavour, by the likeliest methods we can, to better the
240 PREACHED AT
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 considerable time es
tablished, with neighbouring ones in like situations, which
have had none, the good effects of them, as I am very cre
dibly informed, are most manifest. Notwithstanding, I
freely own, that it is extremely difficult to make the neces
sary comparison 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 ; which last is full as material as the for
mer, and can scarce be estimated at all. But surely there
can be no doubt whether it be useful or not to educate chil
dren in order, virtue, and religion.
However, suppose, which is yet far from being the case,
but suppose it should seem that this undertaking did not
answer the expense and trouble of it, in the civil or politi
cal 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 ? We are to do our en
deavours to promote virtue and religion amongst men, and
leave the success to God : the designs of his providence are
answered by these endeavours, " whether they will hear,
or whether they will forbear." i e. whatever be the success
of them : and the least success in such endeavours is a great
and valuable effect.*
From these foregoing observations, duly considered, it
will appear, that the objections which have been made
against charity-schools, are to be regarded in the same
light with those which are made against any other neces
sary things : for instance, against providing for the sick and
the aged poor. Objections in this latter case could be con-
* See the Sermon before the Society for the Propagation of the Gospel.
CHRIST-CHURCH, LONDON. 241
sidered no otherwise than merely as warnings of some in
convenience which might accompany such charity, and
might, more or less, be guarded against, the charity itself
being still kept up ; or as proposals for placing it upon
some better footing. For though amidst the disorder and
imperfection in all human things, these objections were not
obviated, they could not, however, possibly be understood
as reasons for discontinuing such charity ; because, thus
understood, there 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 chari
ties, as though such objections were reasons for suppressing
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 with
out success, to put it upon a right and unexceptionable foot
ing, in the particular respects objected against. And if this
be the intention of the objectors, the managers of it have
shown themselves remarkably ready to second them ; for
they have shown even a docility in receiving admonitions of
any thing thought amiss in it, and proposals for rendering
it more complete. And under the influence of this good spi
rit, 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 suitable to
their ranks. But if there be any thing in the management
of them, which some particular 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
M
242 PREACHED AT
determination of the public complied with. Such compli
ance is an essential principle of all charitable associations,
for without it they could not subsist at all ; and by charit
able 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 refuses 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 public is as
much interested in the education of poor children, as in
the preservation of their lives.
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 emi
nent degree, by being trustees, and overlooking the ma
nagement of these schools ; or in different ways counte
nancing 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 ^ach
of us for himself.
And may the blessing of Almighty God accompany this
work of charity, which he has put into the hearts of
his servants, in behalf of these poor children ; that
being now "trained up in the way they should go,
when they are old they may not depart from it."
CHRIST-CHURCH, LONDON. 243
May he, of his mercy, keep them safe against the in
numerable dangers of this bad world, through which
they are to pass, and preserve them unto his heavenly
kingdom.
SERMON V,
PREACHED BEFORE THE HOUSE OF LORDS, IN THE ABBEY CHURCH
OF WESTMINSTER,
On Thursday, June 11, 1747:
Being the Anniversary of his Majesty's Happy Accession to the Throne.
I exhort, that first of all, supplications, prayers, interces
sions, and giving of thanks, be made for all men : for
kings, and for all that are in authority ; that we may
lead a quiet and peaceable life, in all godliness and
honesty. — 1 TIMOTHY ii. 1, 2.
IT is impossible to describe the general end which Pro
vidence has appointed us to aim at, in our passage through
the present world, in more expressive words than these very
plain ones of the apostle, " to lead a quiet and peaceable
life, in all godliness and honesty." "A quiet and peace
able life," by way of distinction, surely, from eager tumul
tuary pursuits in our private capacity, as well as in oppo
sition both to our making insurrections in the state, and to
our suffering oppression from it. "To lead a quiet and
peaceable life, in all godliness and honesty," is the whole
that we have any reason to be concerned for. To this the
constitution of our nature carries us : and our external
condition is adapted to it.
Now, in aid to this general appointment of Providence,
civil government has been instituted over the world, both
M 2
244 BEFORE THE HOUSE OF LORDS,
by the light of nature and by revelation, to instruct men in
the duties of fidelity, justice, and regard to common good,
and enforce the practice of these virtues, without which
there could have been no peace or quiet amongst mankind ;
and to preserve, in different ways, a sense of religion, 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 practice 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 affirm, 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 degree.
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 oppres
sion, injustice, cruelty, as coming from them, is, under his
direction, necessary discipline, and just punishment ; con
sidering, that "all power is of God," Rom. xiii. 1, all au
thority is properly of divine appointment ; men's very
living under magistracy might naturally have led them to
the contemplation of authority in its source and origin ;
the one supreme, absolute authority of Almighty God, by
which he " doth according to his will in the army of
heaven, and among the inhabitants of the earth," Dan. iv.
35 ; which he now exerts, visibly and invisibly, by different
instruments, in different forms of administration, different
methods of discipline and punishment ; and which he will
continue to exert hereafter, not only vover mankind, when
this mortal life shall be ended, but throughout his uni-
JUNE 11, 1747. 245
versal kingdom ; till, by having rendered to all according
to all 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 ap
pointed for the present " punishment of evil doers, and for
the praise of them that do well," 1 Pet. ii. 14.
And though that perfection of justice cannot in any sort
take place in this world, even under the very best govern
ments ; yet, under the worst, men have been enabled to
lead much more quiet and peaceable lives, as well as to
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 proportion 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 supplications and thanksgivings in their behalf :
to pay them all that duty which these prayers imply ; and
" to lead," as those advantages enable, and have a tendency
to dispose us to do, " quiet and peaceable lives, in all god
liness and honesty."
Of the former of these advantages, our free constitution
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 respecting this world only. We seem, I say,
sufficiently 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 treacherous help no
free government, perhaps, ever was undermined. This
246 BEFORE THE HOUSE -OF LORDS,
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.
Dropping, then, the encroachments which are made upon
our liberty, peace, and quiet, by licentiousness, we. are cer
tainly 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 blessings of
life, with which the industry of his ancestors, 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 free. For we have at length, to the distin
guished honour of those who began, and have more parti
cularly laboured in it, emancipated our northern provinces
from most of their legal remains of slavery ; for voluntary
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 pos
terity, and declarations of its readiness to put every subject
upon an equal footing of security and freedom, if any of
them are not so, in any other respects, which come into its
view ; 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 con
science, conform to it, is itself a general tyranny ; because
it claims absolute 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.
JUNE 11, 1747. 247
On the other hand, a constitution of civil government with
out any religious establishment, is a chimerical project, of
which there is no example ; and which, leaving the gene
rality 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 en
thusiasm ; which last, especially, ought surely to be
diverted and checked, as far as it can be done without
force. Now, a reasonable establishment provides instruc
tion for the ignorant, withdraws them, not in the way of
force, but of guidance, from running after those kinds of
conceits. 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 encouragement
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 par
ticular .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 nations ; a comparison which will suffi
ciently teach us not to expect perfection in human things.
And what is still 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, which 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 which the canonists express by the words, plenitude
of power ; — whoever, I say, will consider popery as it is pro
fessed at Rome, may see that it is manifest open usurpation
of all human and divine authority. But even in those Ro
man catholic countries where these monstrous claims are not
admitted, and the civil power does, in many respects, restrain
the papal, yet persecution is professed, as it is absolutely
248 BEFORE THE HOUSE OF LORDS,
enjoined, by what is acknowledged to be their highest autho
rity, a general council, so called, with the pope at the head
of it ; and is practised in all of them, I think, without ex
ception, where it can be done safely. Thus they go on to
substitute force instead of argument ; and external profes
sion made by force instead of reasonable conviction. And
thus corruptions of the grossest sort have been in vogue for
many generations, 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 insisted 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 cor
ruptions has been obtained by force.
Indeed, it is said in the book of Job, that the worship of
" the sun and moon was an iniquity to be punished by the
judge," Job xxxi. 26—28. 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, perhaps, 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, instead of
serving themselves of prevailing superstitions, had in all
ages and countries opposed them in their rise, and adhered
faithfully to that primitive religion, which was received
" of old, since man was placed upon earth," Job xx. 4.
there could not possibly have been any such difference of
JUNE 11, 1747. 249
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
monarchy must have been universally recognized, 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
ny all mankind, that immorality of every sort was disloy
alty to him, " the high and lofty One that inhabiteth
eternity, whose name is Holy," Isa. Ivii. 15 ; so it could
not but have been manifest, that idolatry, in those deter
minate 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 reli
gion in the world. For if the principle of punishing idol
atry were now admitted amongst the several different par
ties 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 per
secution would range without any stop or control, but what
should arise from its want of power. But our religious
establishment disclaims all principles of this kind, and de
sires not to keep persons in its communion, or gain prose
lytes to it, by any other methods than the Christian ones
of argument and conviction.
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 com
memoration on this day, as his Majesty has shown himself,
not in words, but in the whole course of his reign, the guar
dian and protector of both. And the blessings of his reign
are not only rendered more sensible, but are really height
ened, by its securing us from that pretender to his crown,
whom we had almost forgot, till our late danger renewed
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250 BEFORE THE HOUSE OF LORDS,
our apprehensions ; who, we know, is a professed enemy
to our church, and grown old in resentments, and maxims
of government, directly contrary to our civil constitution ;
nay, his very claim is founded in principles destructive 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 " supplications, 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 primi
tive Christian church, the Christian sacrifices of supplica
tions 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 appointed,
which we are here assembled in the house of God to cele
brate. 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 considered as another, paying them honour
and reverence. 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," 1 Pet. ii. 17, are apostolic pre
cepts ; and " despising government, and speaking evil of
dignities," 2 Pet. ii. 9, 10, apostolic descriptions of such
as " are reserved unto the day of judgment to be punished."
JUNE 11, 1747. 251
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 we 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 it
self just, and also keeps up the spirit of liberty. But
opposition, from indirect motives, to measures which he
sees to be necessary, is itself immoral : it keeps up the
spirit of licentiousness ; is the greatest reproach of liberty,
and in many ways most dangerous to it ; and has been a
principal means of overturning free governments. It is
well, too, if the legal subjection to the government we live
under, which may accompany such behaviour, be not the
reverse of " Christian subjection ; subjection for wrath
only," and "not for conscience sake," Rom. xiii. 3. 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 foresee 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-
252 BEFORE THE HOUSE OF LORDS,
reformed church, both of which he has wonderfully pre
served through infinite dangers : if we do not take heed to
live like Christians, 'nor to govern ourselves with decency,
in those respects in which we are free, we shall be a dis
honour 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 liberty,* that
it must put us into a capacity of behaving ill. Let us
then value our civil constitution, not because it leaves us
the power of acting as mere humour and passion carries us,
in those respects in which governments less free lay men
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 own personal character ; and be sure to be as much
afraid of subjection 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 reli
gion as we please, without being accountable to human
judicatories ; but because it affords us the means arid
assistance to worship God according to his word ; because
it exhibits to our view, and enforces upon our conscience,
genuine Christianity, free from the superstitions with which
it is defiled in other countries. These superstitions natu
rally tend to abate its force : our profession of it, in its pu
rity, is a particular call upon us to yield ourselves up to its
full influence ; " to be pure in heart," Matt. v. 8 ; "to be
holy in all manner of conversation," 1 Pet. i. 15. Much
of the form of godliness is laid aside amongst us : this itself
should admonish us to attend more to the " power thereof,"
2 Tim. iii. 5. We have discarded many burdensome cere-
* Natural liberty, as opposed to necessity, or fate.
JUNE 11, 1747. 253
monies ; let us be the more careful to cultivate inward
religion. We have thrown off a mulitude 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 Re
formation ; and we, shall " adorn the doctrine of God our
Saviour in all things," Tit. ii. 10.
SEKMON VI,
PREACHED BEFORE HIS GRACE CHARLES, DUKE OF RICHMOND, PRESI
DENT, AND THE GOVERNORS OF THE LONDON INFIRMARY,
Fur the Relief of Sick and Diseased Persons, especially Manufacturers,
and Seamen in Merchant Service, §c.
At the Parish-Church of St. Lawrence- Jewry, on Thursday.
March 31, 1748.
Jnd above all things, hare fervent charity amomj yourselves ;
for charity shall cover the multitude of sins. 1 PETER
iv. 8.
As we owe our being, and all our faculties, arid 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 things which are
commanded us, to say, We are unprofitable servants,"
Luke xvii. 10; and with much deeper humility must we
make this acknowledgment when we consider in how " many
things we have all offended," James iii. 2. 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
254 BEFORE THE GOVERNORS
proper objects of mercy, and, our Saviour does not decline
saying, "thought worthy of it," Luke xx. 35. 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 pre-eminence is given to this grace or virtue :
some of great importance, and none of them perhaps with
out its weight. But the proper one seems to be very short
and obvious, that by fervent charity, with a course of bene
ficence proceeding from it, a person may make amends for
the good he has blameably 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 forgiveness of men : and this seems to
afford a very singular 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 a multitude of sins."
And this reason leads me to observe, what Scripture,
and the whole nature of the thing shows, that the charity
here meant must be such hearty love to our fellow-crea
tures, as produceth a settled endeavour to promote, accord
ing 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
good-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 agreeable in conver
sation, it is often most mischievous in every other inter
course of life ; and always puts men out of a capacity of
OF THE LONDON INFIRMARY. 255
doing the good they might, if they could withstand impor
tunity, and the sight of distress, when the case requires
they should be withstood ; many instances of which case
daily occur, both in public 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 inclina
tions, without considering what are the proper means of pro
moting it, than that we can attain our own personal good, by
a thoughtless pursuit of every thing which pleases us. For
the love of our neighbour, as much as self-love, the social
aifections, as much as the private ones, from their very
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 dis
tresses of his neighbour, except where it is really necessary ;
and that even well-disposed persons may run into great
perplexities, 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 there
fore 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, unless we competently satisfy our
selves beforehand, that what we put to our account of cha
rity will answer some good purpose : so on the other side,
when we are competently satisfied of this, in any particular
instance before us, we ought by no means to neglect such
present opportunity of doing good, under the notion of
making further inquiries ; for of these delays there will be
no end.
Having thus briefly laid before you the ground of that
singular efficacy, which the text ascribes to charity in gene
ral — 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 excel
lency of the particular charity, which we are here met
together to promote.
256 BEFORE THE GOVERNORS
Medicine, and every other relief, " under the calamity
of bodily 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 infirmaries
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
shown, 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 assistance which bodily 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 calamities, as they often must be, whilst they are
occasionally attending their affairs 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 neg
lected, in the hurry 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 particular 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 show, that there is a peculiar occasion, and even
a necessity, in such a city as this, for public infirmaries, to
which easy admittance may be had : and here in ours no
OF THE LONDON INFIRMARY. 257
security is required, nor any sort of gratification allowed ;
and that they ought to be multiplied, or enlarged, propor-
tionably 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 an 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 tem
pers can, even upon this occasion, talk in a manner, which,
contrary surely to their intention, has a very malignant
influence upon the spirit of charity — talk of the ill-deserts
of the poor, the good uses they might make of being left to
suffer more than they do, under distresses which they bring
upon themselves, or however might, by diligence and fru
gality, provide 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 occa
sions, 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 was a father to the poor,"
Job xxix. 16. 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 dis
eases and casualties ; and those, it is most obvious, ought
to be relieved preferably 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 very 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
258 BEFORE THE GOVERNORS
by all reasonable methods to be restrained ; and they are
highly to be blamed for not making some provision against
age and supposable 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 open beggary ;
in drunkenness, profane cursing and swearing in our streets,
nay, in our houses of correction : 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 cha
rities, may be entirely passed over, you will give me leave
to consider a little 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. However, 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 educa
tion, 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.
OF THE LONDON INFIRMARY. 259
And remember always, that be men's vices what they will,
they have not forfeited their claim to relief under necessi
ties, till they have forfeited their lives to justice.
" Our heavenly Father is kind to the unthankful and the
evil ; and sendeth his rain on the just and on the unjust,"
Matt. v. 45, Luke vi. 35 ; and, in imitation of him, our
Saviour expressly requires, that our beneficence be promis
cuous. But we have, moreover, the Divine example for
relieving those distresses which are brought upon persons
by their own faults ; and that is exactly the case we are
considering. Indeed, the general dispensation of Christi
anity is an example 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 ex
ample, 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 pro
videntially 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 provi
dence 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 consi
dering 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 instance,
estimate what degree of present sufferings God has annexed
to drunkenness, by considering the diseases which follow
from this vice, as they would be if they admitted of no
reliefs or remedies ; but by considering the remaining misery
260 BEFORE THE GOVERNORS
of those diseases, after the application of such remedies
as nature has provided. For as it is certain on the one
side, that those diseases are providential corrections of in
temperance, it is as certain on the other, that the remedies
are providential mitigations of those corrections, and alto
gether as much providential, when administered by the
good hand of charity in the case of our neighbour, as when
administered by self-love in our own. Thus the pain, and
danger, and other distresses of sickness and poverty re
maining, after all the charitable relief which can be procured ;
and the many uneasy circumstances which cannot but ac
company that relief though distributed with all supposable
humanity ; these are the natural corrections of idleness and
debauchery, supposing these vices brought on those mise
ries. And very severe corrections they are ; and they ought
not to be increased by withholding that relief, or by harsh
ness in the distribution of it. Corrections of all kinds,
even the most necessary ones, may easily exceed their pro
per bound ; and when they do so, they become mischie
vous ; 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 apprehensive of
every thing which can possibly, in the most indirect manner,
encourage idleness and vice, (which, by the way, any thing
may accidentally do,) ought to turn their thoughts to the
moral and religious tendency of infirmaries. The religious
manner in which they are carried on, has itself a direct ten
dency to bring the subject of religion into the considera
tion 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
OF THE LONDON INFIRMARY. 261
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 consciences 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
satisfactory proof, not to the world, but to their oVn con
sciences, of their desire to suppress vice and idleness, bv
setting themselves to cultivate the religious part of the
institutions of infirmaries, which, I think, would admit of
great improvements, than by allowing themselves to talk
in a manner which tends to discountenance either the in
stitution 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 bounds. And, in the spirit of severity
before-inentioned, it is imagined that people are enough dis
posed (such, it seems, is the present term,) to contribute
largely to them. And some, whether from dislike of the
charities themselves, or from mere profligateness, think
" these formal recommendations of them at church every
year might very well be 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 misrepresenta
tions which may, at any time, be made of them ; and in
forming 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,
262 BEFORE THE GOVERNORS
you know, amongst Protestants, always of course accom
pany those more solemn appearances in the house of God :
nor will these latter he 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 persons
will approve of these frequent exhortations to charity, even
though they should be conscious that they do not them
selves 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 commend
able degree, amongst all ran^s of people, and in a very dis
tinguished manner in some persons among the highest;
yet it is evident, too many of all ranks are very deficient in
it, who are of great ability, 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 blameable 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
selves to be better informed, you would readily answer,
that their demands 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 pro
vision is to be made for the necessitous, so far as it depends
upon your contributions. But ought you not to remember,
that you are interested, that you are parties in the aifair, as
OF THE LONDON INFIRMARY. 263
well 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 ; 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 yourselves 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 the various re
maining 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
objects which offer, even for want of room, or wards to
contain them.
Notwithstanding many persons have need of these admo
nitions, yet there is a good spirit of beneficence, as I ob
served, pretty generally prevailing. And I must congratu
late you upon the great success it has given to the particu
lar good work before us ; great, I think, beyond all example,
for the time it has subsisted. Nor would it be unsuitable
to the present occasion, to recount the particulars of this
success. For the necessary accommodations 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 advantage, with
out 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 manage
ment of it ; men of skill in the profession, men of conduct
in business, to perpetuate, improve, and bring it to perfec-
264 BEFORE THE GOVERNORS
tion. 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," Heb. vi. 10, 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, when this Infirmary shall become, as I
hope it will, no less renowned, than the city in which it is
established.
But to see how far it is from being yet complete, for want
of contributions, one need only look upon the settled rules
of the house for admission of patients. See there the limi
tations which necessity prescribes, as to the persons to be
admitted. Read but that one order, though others might
be mentioned, that " none who are judged to be in an asth
matic, consumptive, or dying condition, be admitted on any
account whatsoever." Harsh as these words sound, they
proceed out of the mouth of charity herself. Charity pro
nounces it to be better, that poor creatures, who might re
ceive 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 hu-*
inanity to hear such an alternative mentioned ; and to
think that there should be a necessity, as there is at pre
sent, for such restrictions, in one of the most beneficent
and best managed schemes in the world. May more nu
merous 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 contributing 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 them-
OF THE LONDON INFIRMARY. 265
selves into a capacity of doing it. For we are as really
accountable for not doing the good which we might 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 economy, 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 showeth favour, and lendeth ; and,"
to enable himself to do so, "he will guide his affairs with
discretion," Psal. cxii. 5. 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,
frugality and diligence are duties which particularly belong
to the middle, as well as lower ranks of men ; and more
particularly still, to persons in trade and commerce, what
ever their fortunes be. For trade and commerce cannot
otherwise be carried on, but is plainly inconsistent with
idleness and profusion ; though indeed, were it only from
regard to propriety, and to avoid being absurd, 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 considering 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 engages them in a sober
care of their expenses, and in a course of application to bu
siness : especially as these virtues, moreover, tend to give
them, what is an excellent ground-work 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 industrious, or
N
266 BEFORE THE GOVERNORS
more sparing, perhaps, than his circumstances necessarily
require, that he may " have to give to him that needeth,"
Eph. iv. 28 ; when he " labours in order to support the
weak," Acts xx. 35 ; 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 gos
pel, indeed, teaches us to look upon every one in distress
as our neighbour, yet neighbourhood, in the literal sense,
and likewise several other circumstances, are providential
recommendations of such and such charities, and excite
ments to them ; without which the necessitous would suffer
much more than they do at present. For our general dis
position to beneficence would not be sufficiently directed,
and, in other respects, would be very ineffectual, if it were
not called forth into action by some or other of those pro
vidential circumstances, which form particular relations be
tween 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
expected, 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 suf
ficiently attended to by the generality; which may be
owing to its late establishment. It is, you know, designed
principally for "diseased manufacturers, seamen in mer
chant service, and their wives and children;" and poor
manufacturers comprehend all who are employed in any
labour whatever, belonging to trade and commerce. The
description of these objects shows 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
OF THE LONDON INFIRMARY. 267
by sickness, there is none of you but would think himself
bound to do somewhat for their relief. Now these seamen
and manufacturers are employed in your immediate busi
ness. 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 depend upon traders
of lower rank, in exactly the same manner, yet many of
them do ; and they have all connexions with you, which
give them a claim to your charity preferable 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 immediately yours. And
as their being servants to the public is a general recom
mendation of this charity to all other persons, so their
being more immediately yours, is surely a particular re
commendation of it to you. Notwithstanding all this, I
will not take upon me to say that every one of you is
blameable who does not contribute to your Infirmary, for
yours it is in a peculiar sense ; but I will say, that those
of you who do, are highly commendable. I will say more,
that you promote a very excellent work, which your par
ticular station is a providential call upon you to promote.
And there can be no stronger reason than tliis for doing
any thing, except the one reason, that it would be criminal
to omit it.
These considerations, methinks, might induce every tra
der of higher rank in this city, to become a subscriber to
the Infirmary which is named from it ; and others of- you,
to contribute somewhat yearly to it, in the way in which
smaller contributions are given. This would be a most
proper offering, out of your increase, to him whose " bless
ing maketh rich," Prov. x. 22. Let it be more or less,
" every man according as he purposeth in his heart ; not
grudgingly, or of necessity, for God loveth a cheerful
giver," 2 Cor. ix. 7.
N 2
268 BEFORE THE GOVERNORS
The large benefactions of some persons of ability may be
necessary in the first establishment of a public charity, and
are greatly useful afterwards in maintaining it : but the ex
penses of this before us, in the extent and degree of perfec
tion to which one would hope it might be brought, cannot
be effectually supported, any more than the expenses of
civil government, without the contribution of great num
bers. You have already the assistance of persons of the
highest rank and fortune, of which the list of our governors
and the present appearance are illustrious examples. And
their assistance would be far from lessening, by a general
contribution to it amongst yourselves. On the contrary, the
general contribution to it amongst yourselves, which I have
been proposing, would give it still higher repute, and more
invite such persons to continue their assistance, and accept
the honour of being in its direction. For the greatest per
sons receive honour from taking the direction of a good
work, as they likewise give honour to it. And by these
concurrent endeavours, our Infirmary might at length be
brought 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 enjoyment, to what they promise at
a distance. But the distinguished privilege, the preroga
tive of riches is, that they increase our power of doing good.
This is their proper use. In proportion as men make this
use of them, they imitate Almighty God : and co-operate
together with him in promoting the happiness of the world ;
and may expect the most favourable judgment which their
case will admit of, at the last day, upon the general re
peated maxim of the gospel, that we shall then be treated
ourselves as we now treat others. They have moreover the
prayers of all good men, those of them particularly whom
they have befriended ; and, by such exercise of charity,
they improve within themselves the temper of it, which is
OF THE LONDON INFIRMARY. 269
the very temper of heaven. Consider, next, the peculiar
force with which this branch of charity, alms-giving, is
recommended to us in these words, " He that hath pity
upon the poor, lendeth unto the Lord," Prov. xix. 17;
and in these of our Saviour, " Verily, I say unto you, In
asmuch as ye have done it," relieved the sick and needy,
" unto one of the least of these, my brethren, ye have done
it unto me," Matt. xxv. 40. Beware you do not explain
away these passages of Scripture, under the notion that
they have been made to serve superstitious 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 instances we have all left undone those things which
we ought to have done, and done those things which 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 — I can mean only to our fellow-crea
tures. To make amends, in some way or other, to a par
ticular 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 within 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.
A CHAKGE
DELIVERED TO THE CLERGY,
At the Primary Visitation of the Diocese of Durham, in the Year 1751,
WITH NOTES,
CONTAINING A DEFENCE OP THE CHARGE AGAINST THE
OBJECTIONS OF AN ANONYMOUS WRITER,*
BY THE EDITOR.
IT is impossible for me, my brethren, upon our first meet
ing of this kind, to forbear lamenting with you the general
decay of religion in this nation, which is now observed by
every one, and has been for some time the complaint 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 what ? Why, truly, for
nothing, but against every thing that is good and sacred
amongst us.
Indeed, whatever efforts are made against our religion,
* The publication of Bishop Butler's Charge, in the year 1751, was fol
lowed by a Pamphlet, printed in 1752, entitled, A Serious Inquiry into the
Use and Importance of External Religion, occasioned by some Passages in
the Right Reverend the Lord Bishop of Durham's Cliarge to the Clergy of
that Diocese, <^c., humbly addressed to his Lordship. This Pamphlet has
been reprinted in a miscellaneous work : such parts of it as seemed most
worthy of observation, the reader will find in the Notes subjoined to those
passages of the Charge, to which the Pamphlet refers.
CHARGE TO THE CLERGY OF DURHAM, 1751. 271
no Christian can possibly despair of it. For he, who has
all power in heaven and earth, has promised that he will
be with us to the end of the world. Nor can the present
decline of it be any stumbling-block to such as are con
siderate ; since he himself has so strongly expressed what
is as remarkably predicted in other passages of Scripture,
the great defection from his religion which should be in the
latter days, by that prophetic question, When the Son of
Man cometh, shall he fnd faith upon the earth ? How
near this time is, God only knows ; but this kind of Scrip
ture 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 among you, to require con
sideration, what is the proper behaviour towards them. One
would, to be sure, avoid great familiarities with these per
sons, especially if they affect to be licentious and profane-
in their common talk. Yet, if you fall into their company,
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 be
haviour towards all men, but more especially towards these
men ; not so much as being what we owe to them, but to
ourselves 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 par
ticular case, be ashamed frankly to acknowledge his igno
rance, provided it be not general. And though it were, to
272 CHARGE TO THE CLERGY
talk of what he is not acquainted with, is a dangerous
method of endeavouring 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 some
times see cause to decline that office. Sceptical and pro
fane 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, otherwise I should not sup
pose 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 en
tering 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 ab
horrence of it which the innocent 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 man
ner, the hearing religion often disputed about in light fa
miliar 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 demonstrated truths have been disputed, and
even matters of fact, the objects of our senses. But were
it a consequence — 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 infi
nite importance, to have nearly 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
OF DURHAM, 1751. 2?3
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 doubtfulness of reli
gion for the same thing as a proof of its falsehood, after
they have concluded it doubtful from hearing it often called
in question. This shows how infinitely unreasonable scep
tical men are, with regard to religion : 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 be
ginning 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 apprehended, 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 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 particularly
upon your guard, that you may not seem, by way of com
pliance, 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
N 3
274 CHARGE TO THE CLERGY
ribaldry upon it, without expressing our thorough disap
probation. 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 de
serves another sort of treatment, or a more thorough con
sideration, 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 always to give an answer to every man that asketh a
reason of the hope that is in us ; 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,
with meekness and fear, I Pet. iii. 15 : meekness towards
those who give occasions for entering into the defence of our
religion ; and with fear, not of them, but of God ; with that
reverential fear, which the nature of religion requires, 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 great
ness of God's scheme of government, both in extent and
duration, together with the wise connexion of its parts,
and the impossibility of accounting fully for the several
parts, without seeing the whole plan of Providence to
which they relate ; which is beyond 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
with regard to all.
But your standing business, and which requires constant
attention, is with the body of the people ; to revive in them
the spirit of religion, which is so much declining. And it
may seem, that whatever reason there be for caution as to
entering into any argumentative defence of religion in com
mon conversation, yet that it is necessary to do this from
OF DURHAM, 1751. 275
the pulpit, in order to guard the people against being cor
rupted, 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 objec
tions, are capable also of seeing the force of the answers
which are given to them, yet the truth is, the people will
not competently attend to either. But it is easy to see which
they will attend to most. And to hear religion 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 all 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 forth
into actual exercise every pious affection of heart. For it
is to be repeated, that the heart and course of affections
may be disturbed, when there is no alteration of judgment.
Now, the evidence of religion may be laid before men with
out 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 accomplishment of prophecies ; and the
confirmation which the natural and civil history of the
world gives to the Scripture account of things : these evi-
* The law of virtue written upon our hearts.] — The author of the Jn-
<juiry, mentioned above, informs, in his Postscript, that " the certain conse
quence of referring mankind to a laiv of nature, or virtue, icritten upon tiifir
Jiearts, is their having recourse to tJieir own sense of things on all occasions;
which being, in a great majority, 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 importance of external religion" 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
276 CHARGE TO THE CLERGY
dences 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 obvi
ated without a formal mention of them. Besides, as to
mankind ? blaming some among the Gentiles as witliout excuse, for not
adverting to and obeying it ; and commending others for doing by nature
(in contradistinction to revelation) tJte things contained in tfielaw, thus show
ing the work 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 pulpit ;"
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 cer
tainly nowhere to be found 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 otJier proof of the ori
ginal truth, obligations, 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 ? Will it not be useful here,
besides observing that the practice of that virtue is enjoined by a divine
command, to recommend it still further to his hearers, by showing that it
approves itself to our inward sense and perception, and accords with the na
tive sentiments and suggestions of our minds? Metaphysicians may say
what they will of our feelings of this sort, 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 by philosophy 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, are instinctively 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 bo
dies appear to us in an erect, and not an inverted position.f Mr. Locke's
[* See the second of Dr. Balguy's Charges.]
[f See the third of Bishop Kurd's Sermons, vol. i.]
OF DURHAM, 1751. 277
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 thoughtlessness, and the com
mon temptations of life. Your chief business, therefore,
is to endeavour to beget a practical sense of it upon their
hearts, as what they acknowledge their belief of, and pro
fess they ought to conform themselves to. And that is to
be done, by keeping up, as well as we are able, the form
and face of religion with decency and reverence, and in
such a degree as to bring the thoughts of religion 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
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
of human actions ; making virtue and vice altogether arbitrary ; culling evil
good, and good evil ; putting darkness for ligtit, and light for darkness ;
putting bitter fur sweet, and sweet for bitter.
* By keeping up the form and face of religion— in such a degree, as t .
bring the thoughts of religion often to their minds.]— To this it is said by
our fnrjuirer, that " the clergy of the Church of England have no way of
keeping up iheform and face of religion any oftener, or in any olk-.r degree,
than is directed by the prescribed order of the church." As if the whole
278 CHARGE TO THE CLERGY
be preserved amongst mankind without the form.* And
this form frequently occurring in some instance or other of
it, will be a frequent admonition-j- to bad men to repent,
arid to good men to grow better ; and also be the means of
their doing so.
That which men have accounted religion in the several
duty of a parish priest consisted in reading, prayers, and a sermon on Sun
days, 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 farther, he would have found other methods
recommended to the clergy, of introducing a sense of religion into the minda
of their parishioners, which occur much 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
stances : as at the time of confirmation, at first receiving the holy com
munion, on recovery from sickness, and the like ; none of which are pre
scribed in our established ritual, any more than those others so ludicrously
mentioned by this writer, " bowing to the east, turning the face to that
quarter in repeating the creeds, dipping the finger in water, and therewith
crossing the child's forehead in baptism."
* The thing itself cannot be preserved amongst mankind without the
form.] — The Quakers reject all forms, even the two of Christ's own institu
tion ; will it be said, that " these men have no religion preserved among
them ?" It will neither be said nor insinuated. The Quakers, though they
have not the form, are careful to keep up the face of religion ; as appears,
not only from the custom of assembling themselves for the purposes of
public 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 importance of
maintaining the influence of religion on their minds, is manifest from the
practice of what they call inward prayer, in conformity to the direction of
Scripture, to pray continually ; " Which," saith Robert Barclay, " cannot
be understood of outward prayer, because it were impossible that men
should be always upon their knees, expressing the words of prayer ; whicli
would hinder them from the exercise of those duties no less positively com
manded." — Apology fur the Quakers, Prop. xi. of Worship.
f This form frequently occurring in some instance or other of it, will be
a frequent admonition, &c.] — Here it has been objected, that " the number,
variety, and frequent occurrence of forms in religion, are too apt to be con
sidered by the generality as commutations for their vices, as something sub'
OF DURHAM, 1751. 279
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, painting, and poetry.
It mixed itself with business, civil forms, diversions, do
mestic entertainments, and every part of common life. The
Mahometans are obliged to short devotions five times be
tween morning and evening. In Roman Catholic countries,
people cannot pass a day without having religion recalled to
their thoughts, by some or other memorial of it ; by some
ceremony, or public religious form, occurring in their way ;*
besides their frequent holidays, the short prayers they are
daily called to, and the occasional devotions enjoined by
stituted in lieu of repentance, and as loads and incumbrances upon true
Christian 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 tin-
master sophism that pervades the whole performance we are here examining.
What reasonable man ever denied that the pomp of outward worship lias
been sometimes mistaken for inward piety 'J that positive institutions, when
rested in as ends, instead of being applied as means, are hurtful to the
interests of true religion ? Not Bishop Butler, certainly, who blames tin-
observances of the Papists on this account, some of them as being " in
themselves wrong and superstitious ;" and others, as being " made subser
vient 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 intel
lectual, is altogether unsuitable to such a creature as man, during his pre
sent state on earth.
* In Roman Catholic countries, people cannot pass a day without having
religion recalled to their thoughts— by some ceremony, or public religious
form, occurring in their way.] — " What in the former period (when speak
ing of the Heathen world) was called superstition, becomes in this, (wlun
speaking of Roman Catholics,) lieliyion, and Religious forms ; which the
CHARGE TO THE CLERGY
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 sim
plicity, and enjoined no more particular rules, nor left any
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 accord
ingly 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 superstition, are distinguished from each other in ex
press words. But the terms in question are used with the strictest pro
priety. 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,) gene
rally speaking, has had a great and conspicuous part in all public appear-
nnceu." 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 characterised under the common name of superstition : the last contains
:i mixture of both : which, therefore, the Bishop, like a good writer, as
well as a just reasoncr, 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 re
called to his thoughts," or superstition may take possession of his mind.
Jn the celebration of the Eucharist, the elements of bread and wine are re
garded 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.
OF DURHAM, 1751. 281
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 neg
lected by the generality amongst us ; for instance, the ser
vice of the church, not only upon common days, but also
upon saints' days ; and several other things might be men
tioned. 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 words,"
says Moses to the children of Israel, " which I command
thee, shall be in thine heart : and thou shalt teach them
diligently unto thy children, and shalt talk of them when
thou sittest in thine house, and when thou walkest by the
way, and when thou liestdown, and when thou risest up."*
And as they were commanded this, so it is obvious how
* And wlien t/iou risest up.']— Allowing that " what Moses in this passage
wanted to have effected was obedience to the imra! law," nothing sure,
could be of greater use in securing that obedience than the practice here
enjoined. Our Inquirer, however, is of a different opinion, and " very
much questions whether his Lordship could have fallen upon any passage in
the Old Testament, which relates at all to his subject, that would have
own less favourable to his argument." Wlio */tall decide 1 &c.— The Bi
shop goes on, " AB they (the Jews) were commanded this, so it is obvious
how much the constitution of their law was adapted to effect it, and keep
religion ever in view." Upon which the Iwpiinr remarks, " It was then
very ill, or at least very unwisely done, to abrogate that law, whose consti
tution was adapted to so excellent a purpose." Jx:t us first sec 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 thfjtdd come, to wham 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 insure such separation, they were to
be constantly employed in a multifarious ritual, which left them neither
time nor opportunity 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
282 CHARGE TO THE CLERGY
much the constitution 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 interruptions from within than they would
have were 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
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 ser
vice, due to him alone, with foreign worship ; yet, even in their worst de
fection, it should be remembered, they never totally rejected the true Je
hovah ; and after their return from captivity, they were so thoroughly
cured of all remaining propensity to the idolatrous rites of heathenism, as
never asain to violate their allegiance to the God of their fathers. It ap
pears, then, that in consequence of the Jewish separation, the principle of
the Unity was in fact preserved inviolate among that people till the coming
of Christ. 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 show, in opposition
to our Inquirer, that it was both very well and very wisely done to abrogate
a law, when the purpose for which the law had been enacted was accom
plished.
* Were religious reflections forced oftener upon their minds.]—" Ac
cording to the Bishop's doctrine, then," says the Inquirer, " it should be not
only good policy, but wholesome discipline, to force men in England to
come to church, and in France to go to mass." And again, " If externals
have this virtue to enforce religious reflections, 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 exter
nal force and compulsion. Whereas by " religious reflections forced" is
plainly meant no more than religious reflections oftener thrown in men's way,
brought more frequently into their thoughts, so as to produce an habitual re
collection that they are always in the Divine presence.
OP DURHAM, 1751. 283
great weight upon external things, 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
cannot but be attended with, a decay of all that is good. It
is highly seasonable now to instruct the people in the im
portance of external religion.*
And doubtless under this head must come into consi
deration, a proper regard to the structures which are conse
crated to the service of God. In the present turn of the
age, one may observe a wonderful frugality in every thing
which has respect to religion, and extravagance in every
thing else. But amidst the appearances of opulence and
improvement in all common things, which 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 magnificence. But in the least
opulent places they must be preserved in becoming repair ;
and every thing relating to the divine service be, however,
decent and clean ; otherwise we shall vilify the face of re
ligion whilst we keep it up. All this is indeed principally
* To instruct the people in the importance of external religion.] — " The
iznportance of external religion," the Inquirer remarks, " is the grand engine
of the Papists, which they play with the greatest effect upon our common
people, who are always soonest taken and ensnared by form and show ; and,
so far as we concur with them in the principle, we are doing their work ;
since, if externals, as such, are important, the plain natural consequence is,
the more of them the fatter." lie had the same reflections once before : " If
true religion cannot be preserved among them without forms, the conse
quence must be, that the Romish religion, having — man frequent occurrences
of forms, is better than other religions, which have feicer of these — occur
rences." To this argument I reply, Nego consequential!!. There may be
too much of form in religion, as well as too little ; the one leads to enthu
siasm, the other degenerates into superstition ; one is puritanism, the other
popery ; whereas, 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 superstitious and the fanatical;
and that whatever is not one of these, must of necessity be the other?
284 CHARGE TO THE CLERGY
the duty of others. Yours is to press strongly upon them
what is their duty in this respect, and admonish them of it
often, if they are negligent.
But theii you must be sure to take care and not neglect
that part of the sacred fabric which belongs to you to main
tain in repair and decency. Such 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 for it.
Bishop Fleetwood has observed,* that " unless the good
public spirit of building, repairing, and adorning churches,
prevails a great deal more among us, and be more en
couraged, a hundred years will bring to the ground a huge
number of our churches." This excellent prelate made
this observation forty years ago ; and no one, I believe,
will imagine, that the good spirit he has recommended pre
vails 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 attendance 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 peculiar
promises annexed to it. But external acts of piety and
devotion, and the frequent returns of them, are moreover
necessary 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 public 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
* Charge to the clergy of St. Asaph, 1710.
OF DURHAM, 1751. 285
places, cannot be brought to attend it oftener than one day
in a week ; and since this is in no sort enough to keep up in
them a due sense of religion ; it were greatly to be wished
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 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 forgotten by the gener
ality, 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 even
ing, who have not thrown off' all regards to piety. But se
cret 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 mi
nute 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 " being
in the fear of the Lord all the day long."
A duty of the like kind, and serving to the same purpose,
is the particular acknowledgment of God when we are par
taking of his bounty at our meals. The neglect of this is
said to have been scandalous to a proverb in the heathen
286 CHARGE TO THE CLERGY
world ;* but it is without shame laid aside at the tables of
the highest and the lowest ranks 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 Chris
tianity 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 par
ticular circumstances of it, are of great use to such as are
already got into a religious 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 begin, 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 deter
minate time and manner "voluntarily fixed upon for the
doing of them. Particular rules and directions then, con
cerning the times and circumstances of performing acknow
ledged duties, bring religion nearer to practice ; and such
as are really proper, and cannot well be mistaken, and are
easily 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
extemal in religion may be merely so. And therefore,
whilst we endeavour in these, and other like instances, to
keep up the form of godliness, 2 Tim. iii. 5 ; amongst
those who are our care, and over whom we have any influ
ence, we must endeavour also that this form be made more
and more subservient to promote the power of it, 2 Tim.
* Cudworth on the Lord's Supper, p. 8. Casaub. in Athenaeum, 1. i. c. xi.
p. 22. Duport. Prsel. in Theophrastum Ed. Needham, c. ix. p. 335, &c.
OF DURHAM, 1751. 287
iii. 5. 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 re
gard to one duty will in no sort atone for the neglect of
any other. 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 whom 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 ? En
force 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 incarnation, sacrifice, 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 history, of course lead you to explain these its
several doctrines, and show 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 opportunities of enforcing all these things in
familiar conversation. Indeed, all affectation of talking
288 CHARGE TO THE CLERGY
piously is quite nauseous ; and though there be nothing of
this, yet men will easily be disgusted at the too great fre
quency or length of these occasional admonitions. But a
word of God and religion dropped sometimes in conversa
tion, gently, and without any thing severe, or forbidding,
in the 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 pro
per is it to advise him to recollect and ever bear in mind,
what were his hopes, or fears, his wishes, or resolutions,
when under the apprehension of death : in order to bring
him to repentance, or confirm him in a course of piety,
according as his life and character has been. So likewise
the terrible accidents which often happen from riot and
debauchery, and indeed almost every vice, are occasions
providentially thrown in your way, to discourse against
these vices in common conversation, as well as from the
pulpit, upon any such accidents happening in your parish,
or in a neighbouring one. Occasions and circumstances
of the like kind to some or other of these occur often, and
ought, if I may so speak, to be catched at, as opportunities
of conveying instruction, both public and private, with
great force and advantage.
Public instruction is also 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 appro
priate what they hear to themselves, to their own heart and
life. Now, the only remedy for this in our power is a
particular personal application. And a personal applica
tion 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
OF DURHAM, 1J51. 289
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 they
are often leaving 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 impressions of religion made upon their
minds. Now, the 61st canon expressly requires, that
every minister that hath care of souls 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, with
out such personal application to each candidate in parti
cular 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
beforehand 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 dis
course 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 footing with catechising youth, and
preparing them for confirmation ; these being indispensable
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 vo
luntary instance of docility on theirs. I will only add, as
to this practice, that it is regularly kept up by some per
sons, and particularly by one, whose exemplary behaviour
290 CHARGE TO THE CLERGY
in every part of the pastoral office is enforced upon you by
his station of authority and influence in (this part* especi
ally of) the diocese.
I am very sensible, my brethren, that some of these
things, in places where they are greatly wanted, are im
practicable, from the largeness of parishes, suppose. And
where there is no impediment of this sort, yet the perform
ance of them will depend upon others, as well as upon you.
People cannot be admonished or instructed in private, un
less they will permit it. And little will you be able to do
in forming the minds of children 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 example,
and giving 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 supe
riors act in like manner to such parents ; and whilst they,
the lower people, I mean, must have such numerous temp
tations 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. Doubt
less, very much reproach which now lights upon the clergy,
will be found to fall 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 de
termining what good is in our power to do ; and not let indo
lence 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 patience would prevent, or overcome them.
Indeed, all this diligence to which I have been exhorting
* The Archdeaconry of Northumberland.
OF DURHAM, l?5l. 291
you and myself, for God forbid I should not consider my
self 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 lives. And this, my brethren, is the busi
ness of our lives, in every sense and upon every account.
It is the general business of all Christians as they have op
portunity ; it is our particular business. It is so, as we
have devoted ourselves to it by the most solemn engage
ments ; as, according to our Lord's appointment, we " live
of the Gospel," 1 Cor. ix. 14, and as the preservation and
advancement of religion, in such and such districts, are, in
some respects, our appropriated trust.
By being faithful in the discharge of this our trust, by
thus " taking heed to the ministry we have received in the
.Lord, that we fulfil it," Col. iv. 17 ; we shall do our part
toward reviving a practical sense of religion 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 re
straints. 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 in vain in the Lord," 1 Cor. xv. 58.
o 2
CORRESPONDENCE
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, but 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, whom I have discoursed with, is so justly
esteemed) was recommended 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 satisfaction as I aim at,
unless by the method. I now use. You cannot but know,
* The following correspondence may, with the utmost propriety, be in
troduced into this edition of Dr. Butler's works, as the letters to Clarke
were written by Butler, then a student at a dissenting academy in Tewkesbury.
Though not generally known, Butler was the person who signed himself,
A Gentleman in Gloucestershire.
THE FIRST LETTER. 293
sir, that of two different expressions of the same thing,
though equally clear to some persons, yet to others, one of
them sometimes is very obscure, though the other be per
fectly 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 nothing
more than that good work of instructing others.
In your demonstration of the being and attributes of
God, Prop. VI.* (Edit. 2nd. p. 69, and 70,) you propose
to prove the infinity or omnipresence of the self-existing
Being. The former part of the proof seems highly proba
ble ; but the latter part, which seems to aim at demonstra
tion, is not to me convincing. The latter part of the para
graph is, if I mistake not, an entire argument of itself, which
runs thus : " To suppose a finite being to be self-existing,
is to say, that 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 tin-
world." The sense of these words, " the absence of which,"
seems plainly to be determined by the following sentence,
to mean its absence from any particular place. Which
sentence 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 contradiction, 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 contradiction, 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 contradiction,
be absent from all places at the same time, i. e. may cease
* Page 45. edit. 4th; p. 41. edit. Cth ; p. 43. edit. 7th : p. 44. edit. 8th.
294 THE FIRST LETTER.
to exist.) Now if it proves no more than this, I cannot
see that it reduces the supposition to any ahsurdity. Sup
pose I could demonstrate, 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 differ
ent 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 supposed 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. VII.* (Edit. 2nd. p. 74.)
" To suppose two or more different natures existing of
themselves, necessarily and independent from each other,
implies this plain contradiction ; 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 independ
ent from the other, they may either of them exist alone,
i. e. without any relation 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 contradiction
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. IH.f [2nd 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
* Page 48. edit. 4th; p. 44. edit. 6th ; p. 46. edit. 7th ; p. 47. edit. 8th.
f Pages 16, 17. Edits. 4th, 6th, 7th, and 8th.
THE FIRST LETTER. 295
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 whe
ther there be an immediate connexion, 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 an
gles below the base in the isosceles triangle are unequal :
which, though it is absolutely false, yet I suppose no one
will lay down the contrary for an axiom ; because, though
it is true, yet there is need of a proof to make it appear so.
Perhaps it maybe answered, that I have not rightly ex
plained the words, to exist alone ; and that they do not mean
only, to exist independent from the other ; but that, exist
ing alone, means that nothing exists with it. Whether
this or the other was meant, I cannot determine ; but,
whichever 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 implies that it will
be no contradiction to suppose the other not to exist ; but
then I ask, how come these two propositions to be con
nected ; that, to suppose two different natures existing of
themselves necessarily and independent from each other,
implies that each of them may be supposed to exist alone,
in this sense? 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 will 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 independent from each other, implies that
296 THE ANSWER TO THE FIRST LETTER.
cither 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 ac
count, were there no other principle of its existence, it
might cease to exist ; yet on the account of the necessity
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 in 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
line from you, by which you will lay me under a particular
obligation to be, what, with the rest of the world, I now
am> Reverend SIR,
Your most obliged Servant, &c.
November 4th, 1713.
THE ANSWER TO THE FIRST LETTER.
SIR, — Did men, who publish controversial papers, ac
custom themselves to write with that candour and ingenuity
with which you propose your difficulties, I am persuaded
almost all disputes might be very amicably terminated, either
by men's coining at last to agree in opinion, or at least, find
ing 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, therefore, I answer : whatever may, without a
contradiction, 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 absolutely neces
sary at all, is absolutely necessary in every part of space,
THE ANSWER TO THE FIRST LETTER. 297
and iii 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 con
tradiction 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 1000 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 1000 years, or God
may reveal and promise he shall live 1000 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 ? 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 1000 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 demonstration is appli
cable 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 neces
sarily, not only must so exist alone, as to be independent
of any thing else ; but (being self-sufficient,) may also so
exist alone, as that every thing else may possibly (or without
any contradiction in the nature of things) be supposed not to
exist at all : and consequently, (since that which may pos
sibly be supposed not to exist at all, is not necessarily ex
istent,) no other thing can be necessarily existent. What
ever is necessarily existing, there is need of its existence
in order to the supposal of the existence of any other thing ;
so that nothing can possibly be supposed to exist, without
presupposing and including antecedently the existence of
o 3
298 THE SECOND LETTER.
that which is necessary. For instance ; the supposal of
the existence of any thing whatever, includes 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. There
fore, the supposing anything 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 pre-
include 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 difficult 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 demon
strably convictive.
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.
November 10, 1713.
p. g. — Many readers, I observe, have misunderstood
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 argu
ment there requires, is, [some one at least.] That there
can be but one, is the thing proved afterwards in the
seventh proposition.
THE SECOND LETTER.
REVEREND SIR, — I have often thought that the chief
occasions of men's differing so much in their opinions, were,
THE SECOND LETTER. 299
either their not understanding each other, or else, that in
stead 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 rea
son 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 objec
tions are not satisfactory. The reasons why I think them
not so, are as follows : —
You say, "Whatever is absolutely necessary at all, is
absolutely necessary in every part of space, and in every
point of duration." Were this evident, it would certainly
prove what you bring it for ; viz. " that whatever may,
without a contradiction, 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 ubiquity 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 any time be conceived pos
sibly 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 possibly to be absent from
every other part of space, at the same time." Now I can
not see, that I can make these two suppositions for the same
reason, or upon the same account. The reason why I con
ceive this being may be absent from one place, is because
it doth not contradict the former proof, [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 triangle equal to two right
ones, that relation of the quality of its angles to two right
•300 THE SECOND LETTER.
ones, will be wherever a triangle exists ; so, when we have
proved the necessary existence of a being, this being must
exist every where. But there is a great difference between
these two things : the one being the proof of a certain re
lation, upon supposition of such a being's existence with
such particular 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,
which 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 ; " What
soever 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 demonstrably ; and consequently, that the two
propositions I thought independent are closely connected.
But how, or upon what account, is there need of the exist
ence of whatever is necessarily existing, in order to the ex
istence of any other thing? 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 considered 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 conceive how
a necessarily existing being can, on the same account or in
the' same manner as space and duration are, be needful in
order to the existence of any other being, than I can con
ceive extension attributed to a thought : that idea no more
belonging to a thing 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
THE ANSWER TO THE SECOND LETTER. 301
must be the cause of the existence of all other things : I
think this is plainly begging the question ; for it supposes
that there is no other being exists, but what is causal, 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 suppositions themselves.
I have aimed at nothing in my style but only to be in
telligible : 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 acquainted with any other
difficulty that I may meet with in any of your writings.
I am willing to interpret 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.
November 23, 1713.
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 con
ceive a being, (a finite being, suppose,) and then conceive
self-existence to be a property of that being ; as the angles
are properties 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
302 THE ANSWER TO THE SECOND LETTER.
evident this necessity, being not limited to any antecedent
subject, as angles are to a triangle, but being itself original,
absolute, and (in order of nature) antecedent to all exist
ence, cannot but be every where, for the same reason that
it is any where. By applying this reasoning to the instance
of space, you will find, that by consequence it belongs truly
to that substance, -whereof space is a property,* as dura
tion also is. What you say about a necessary being exist
ing 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)
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 pos
sibly be conceived to exist, without thereby presupposing
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 mode, must also be necessary : necessary both
in itself, and needful to the existence of any thing else
whatsoever. Extension, indeed, does not belong to thought,
because thought is not a being ; but there is need of exten
sion to the existence of every being, to a being which has
or has not thought, or any other quality whatsoever.
I am, SIR,
Your real Friend and Servant.
London, November 28, 1713.
* Or, mode of existence.
303
THE THIRD LETTER.
REVEREND SIR,— I don't 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 property of that being.
If you mean, that I first suppose a finite being to exist I know
not why ; affirming necessity of existence to be only a conse
quent 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 expressions 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 eternally neces
sary ; I freely own it. Neither do I conceive it to be irre
gular or absurd ; for there is a great difference 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 somewhere, supposes 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 ne
cessarily, 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 existence
of every thing else ; consequently the substance, 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 difference 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 property ; which, since you will
not admit for true, if it directly follows from your argu
ments, they cannot be conclusive.
304 THE ANSWER TO THE THIRD LETTER.
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 satisfaction it would
have given me in my own mind, I should have thought it
an honour to have entered 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,
Reverend SIR,
Your most obliged humble Servant.
December 5, 1713.
THE ANSWER TO THE THIRD LETTER.
SIR, — Though, when I turn my thoughts every way, I
fully 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 your saying a necessary Being exists somewhere
does necessarily suppose it to be finite ; but that the man
ner 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, without accurately attending to the nature
of that necessity by which it exists. Necessity absolute, and
antecedent (in order of nature) to the existence of any sub
ject, has nothing to limit it ; but, if it operates 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
THE ANSWER TO THE THIRD LETTER 305
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 intel
ligent and free agent. To suppose matter or any other sub
stance 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 likewise the same in the question about
the original of motion. Motion cannot be necessarily ex
isting ; because, it being evident that all determinations of
motion are equally possible in themselves, the original de
termination of the motion of any particular body this way
rather than the contrary way, could not be necessary in
itself, but was either caused by the will of an intelligent
and free agent, or else was an effect produced and deter
mined without any cause at all, which is an express con
tradiction ; as I have shown in my demonstration of the
being and attributes of God, p. 14 [Edit. 4th and 5th ;]
p. 12 [Edit. 6th, 7th, and 8th.]
To the second head of argument I answer, — space is a
property [or mode] of the self-existent substance, 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 themselves not sub
stances, but properties or modes, show evidently that the
substance, without which these modes 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
existence of every thing else ; so, consequently, is the sub-
306 THE FOURTH LETTER.
stance, to which these modes belong in that peculiar man
ner which I before mentioned.
I am, SIR,
Your affectionate Friend and Servant.
December 10, 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 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 ; un
less I can clearly show 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 another ; and if so, an absolutely necessary
Being must exist every 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. All substances, doubt
less, whether body or spirit, exist in space : but when I
say that a spirit exists in space, were 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 quan
tity. Not but that I think there is somewhat in the man
ner of existence of spirits in respect of space, that more di
rectly answers to the manner of the existence of body ; 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
THE FOURTH LETTER. 307
Being hath to space. To say he exists in space, after the
same manner that other substances do, (somewhat like
which I too rashly asserted in my last,) perhaps would be
placing the Creator too much on a level with the creature :
or however, it is not plainly and evidently true : and to
say the self-existent substance 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 a hundred
relations distinct from either of these, yet how should we
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 sub
stance is the substratum of space, or the ground of its exist
ence : but I see no reason to think it true ; because space
seems to me to be as absolutely self-existent, as it is pos
sible any thing can be ; so that, make what other supposition
you please, yet we cannot help supposing immense space ;
because there must be either an infinity of being, or (if you
will allow the expression) an infinite vacuity of being.
Perhaps 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 con
clude 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 existence) all other things. Now this, though it is
really an objection, yet it 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 not absolutely independent, I do not see what
308 THE ANSWER TO THE FOURTH LETTER.
we can conclude is so ; for it is manifestly necessary it
self, as well as antecedently needful to the existence of all
other things, not excepting (as I think) even the self-exist
ent 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 instruction 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 obliged Servant.
December 16, 1713.
THE ANSWER TO THE FOURTH LETTER.
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 diffi
culties it contains is (I think) this : that it is difficult to
determine what relation the self-existent substance has to
space : that to say it is the substratum of space, in the
common sense of the word, is scarce intelligible, 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 will 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
THE FIFTH LETTER. ,309
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 quality 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 sub
stance 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 feeling 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 body ; and colour is not body ; but yet,
to the understanding of these persons, those properties
necessarily infer the being of a substance, of which sub
stance 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 that the substance, which
it infers, is (much more) necessary.
I am, SIR,
Your affectionate Friend and Servant.
January 29, 1714.
THE FIFTH LETTER.
REVEREND SIR, — You have very comprehensively ex
pressed, in six or seven lines, all the difficulties of my letter,
which I should have endeavoured to have made shorterj had
I not been afraid an improper impression might possibly
occasion a mistake of my meaning. I am very glad the
debate is come into so narrow a compass ; for I think now
it entirely turns upon this, whether our ideas of space and
duration are partial, so as to presuppose the existence of some
other thing. Your similitude of the blind man is very apt to
explain your meaning, (which I think I fully understand,)
310 THE FIFTH LETTER.
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 ; 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, granting 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
show 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-exist
ent 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 supposi
tion is absurd : but how otherwise can we know whether
any thing be a property of such a substance, but by examin
ing whether it would cease to be, if its supposed substance
should do so ? Notwithstanding what I have now said, I
cannot say that I believe 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 Be
ing ; that there is but one such ; and that he is needful in
order to the existence of all other things. Which makes
THE ANSWER TO THE FIFTH LETTER. 311
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 very probable.
But being very desirous to have it appear demonstratively
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 ob
jection to advantage, that it might be more fully answered.
I heartily wish you as fair treatment 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.
February 3, 1714.
THE ANSWER TO THE FIFTH LETTER.
SIR, — In a multitude of business, I mislaid your last let
ter; 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 can
not but take notice I have very seldom met with persons
so reasonable and unprejudiced as yourself, in such debates
as these.
I think all I need say in answer to the reasoning in your
letter is, that your granting the absurdity of the supposition
you were endeavouring to make, is consequently granting
. the' necessary truth of my argument. If* space and dura
tion necessarily remain, even after they are supposed to be
taken away, and be not (as it is plain they are not) them-
* Ut partium temporis ordo est iratnutabilis, sic etiam ordo partium
spatii. Movcantur haec de locis suis, et movebuntur (ut ita dicam) do
-«.-i|.MS.— NBWTON, Princip. Mathemat. Schol. ad definit. 8.
312 THE ANSWER TO THE FIFTH LETTER.
selves substances ; then the* substance on whose existence
they depend, will necessarily remain likewise, even after it
is supposed to be taken away ; which shows that supposi
tion 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 obvious to every
capacity, should have more frequently been used as a fun
damental argument for the proof of the being of God ; the
true cause why it has fyeen seldom urged, is, I think, this :
that the universal prevalency of Cartes's absurd notions
(teaching that matterf is necessarily infinite and necessa
rily eternal, and ascribing all things to mere mechanic laws
of motion, exclusive of final causes, and of all will, and in
telligence, and divine Providence from the government of
the world) hath incredibly blinded the eyes of common
reason, and prevented men from discerning him in whom
they live, and move, and have their being. The like 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 tran substantiation, and
(I think) in the scholastic notion of the Trinity, &c.
I am, SIR,
Your affectionate Friend and Servant.
Aprils, 1714.
* Deus non est seternitas vel infinitas, sed seternus et infinitus; non est
duratio vel spatium, sed durat et adest. Durat semper, et adest ubique ;
et existendo semper et ubiqne, durationem et spatium, seternitatem et infi-
nitatem, constituit. Curn unaquscque ; spatii particula, sit semper; et
unmnquodque ; duiationis indivisibile momentum, ubique ; certe rerum
omnium fabricator ac Dominus, non erit nunquam nusquam. Omni
pra?sens est, non per virtutem solam, sed etiam per substantiam ; nam virtus
sine substantia subsistere non potest. In ipso contirientur et moventur
universa, &c. — NEWTON, Princip. Mathemat. Schol. general, sub finem.
-\" Pluto implicare contradictionem, ut mundus (meaning the material
world) sit finitus. — CARTES, Epist. 69, Partis Prima.
THE END.
W, Tyler, Printer, Bolt-court, London.
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