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S HILL
Chr Evid
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1278
(ddison

AVARDIA
E HAR
CADEMIA
MACA
SECCI
INAE IN
IN NOV.
LIIDIS
.INY N
Library of the Divinity School.
FROM THE LIBRARY OF
THOMAS HILL, D.D., ;'
LATE PRESIDENT OF THE UNIVERSITY.
THE GIFT OF HIS CHILDREN.
4 January, 1892.


Wer 0. Hardwa











THE
EVIDENCIS
OF THE
CHRISTIAN RELIGION,
WITH
ADDITIONAL DISCOURSES ON THE
FOLLOWING SUBJECTS, viz.
Of God, and his Attributes. \! Dignity of the Scriptore
The Power and wisdom of|| Language. .
God in the Creation. . Against Atheism and Infi.
The Providence of God, delity. . . .
The Worship of God. Against the Modern Free.
Advantages of Revelation || thinkerś. . . .
above Natural Reason. Immortality of the Soul, and
Excellency of the Christian ! a Future State. ;
Inştitation. . i "Death and Judgment...
Collected from the Writings of
The Right Hon. JOSEPH ADDISON, E3Q.
Greenficiu :
PRINTED BY JOHN DENIO.
Sold by him in Greenfield, by THOMAS & WHIPPLE,
Newburyport, HENRY WHIPPLE, Salem, and by
THOMAS DICKMAN, Sprinfield.
1812.


4 January, 1892.
Firm bo Library of
THOMAS HILI, D.,


..611.
A225eu
1812-PREF A C E.
1 HE character of Mr. ADDISON, and his writ.
ings, for juſtneſs of thought, firenza of reaſoning, and
purity of tyle, is too weli est-bihed to need a recon.
mendation ; but their greateſt urna ne, and tha: which
gives a luitre to all the reit, is his appearing through jut a
zealous advocate for virtu: and religion against profale.
nefs and infidclity. And becauſ: nis excellent diſcourſes
upon thoſe ſubjects lie dilpes lod sinong his other wrisings,
and are by that means niit fu generally known and read
as they deſerve, it was judged to bz no unreaſonable ſer.,
vice to religion at this cime to move the Bookſeller to
publiſh them together in a diſtinct volume, in hopes that
th: politeneſs and beauty peculiar to Mr. ADDISON's
writings would make their way to perſons of a ſuperior
character and a more liberal educativa ; and that, as they
come from the hands of a layman, they may be the more
readily received and conſidered by young gentlemen as a
proper manual of re igion.
Our mo.leca ſceptics and infidels are great pretenders
to reaſon and priloſophy, and are willing to have it thought
that none who are really poffcffled of thoſe calents, can ea-
fily affent to the truth of Christianity. But it falis out
very unfortunately for them and their cauſe, that thoſe
perſons within our own memory, who are confeſſed to
have been the moſt perfect reaſoners and philoſophers of
their time, are alfo known to have been firm believers,
and they laymen; I mean Mr. Boyle, Mr. Locke, Sir
Iſaac Newton, and Mr. Addiſon ; who, modeſtiy fpeak.
ing, were as good thinkers and reaſon:rs as the beſt a.
mong the ſceptics and infidels at this day. Some of them
might have their particular opinions about chis or that
point in Chriſtianity, which will be the caſe as long as men
are men ; but the thing here inſiſted on is, that they were
accurate reaſoners, and, at the ſame time, firm believers.
Mr Boyle, the most exact ſearcher into the works of
nature that any age has known, and who ſaw aihciſm and


PREFACE.
infidelity beginning to thew themſelves in the looſe and
voluptuous reign of King Charles II. purſued his philo.
ſophical inquiries with religious views, to eitabliſh the
minds of men in a firm belief and thorough ſenſe of the
infinite power and wiſdom of the great Creator. :
This account we have from one who was intimately ac.
quainted with him, (Dr. Burnet ) and preached his fu.
neral ſermon " It appeared to thoſe who converſed with
him in his inquiries into nature, that his main deſign in
that (on which, as he had his own eye moſt conſtantly,
ſo he took care to put others often in mind of it, :) was to
raiſe in himſelf and others vafter thoughts of the greatnefs
and glory, and of the wifdəm and goodneſs of God. This
was ſo deep in his thoughts, that he concludes the article
...of his will, which relates to that illuſtrious body, the Roy..
al Society, in theſe words : Wiſhing thern a happy fuccefs
in their laudable attempts to diſcover the true nature of
'the works of God ; and praying that they, and all other
fearchers into phyſical truths, may cordially refer their at.
tainments to the glory of the great Author of nature, and
the comfort of mankind." The ſame perſon allo ſpeaks
thus of bim : " He had the profoundeit veneration for
the great God of heaven and eartb that ever I obſerved
in any perſon. . Tbe very name of God was never men-
tioned by bim without a pauſe, and a viſible ſtop in his
diſcourſe."
. And of the ſtrickneſs and exemplarineſs of the whole
courſe of his life, he ſays, “ I might here challenge the
whole tribe of Libertines to come and view the uſefulneſs,
as well as the excellence of the Chriſtiao religion, in a life.
that was entirely dedicated to it.”
** Against the Atheils he wrote his Free Inquiry into the
received Notion of Nature, (to confute the pernicious
principle of aſcribing effects to nature, which are only pro-
duced by the infinite power and wiſdom of God ;) and
alſo his Eſſay about final Cauſes of Things Natural, to thew
that all things in nature were made and contrived with
great order, and every thing for its proper end and uſe,
by an all wiſe Creator.
Againſt the Deiſts he wrote a treatiſe of things above
reaſon; in which he makes it appear that ſeveral things,
which we judge to be contrary to reaſon, becauſe above
.


PRE FACE.
the reach of our underſtanding, are not therefore to be
thought, unreaſonable becauſe we cannot comprehend
thein, lince they may be appareatly reaſonable to a greaser
and more comprehenſive unierklanding and he wrote
another treatiſe, to show the poliolity of the reſurrectioa'
of the lame body.
The vencration he had for the holy fcriptures, appears
not only from his ftudying them with great exactnes,' and
exhorting oiheis to do the fame, bui ni ure particu' rly
from a diftin&t treacife, which he wrote on purpofe to de- °
fead the ſcripture style, and to ancier all the objections
which profane and irreligious perfons hive mde zaint
it. God ſpeaking of morality, confidered as a rule of life,
he ſays, “ I have formerly taken pains to perure books of
morality, yet fince they have only a power to perluale;
but noi to command, and lia and death do not neceffiri.
by attend the diſobedience of them, they have the leſs in.
fueoce : for ſince we may take the liberty to queltion hu.
man writers, I find that the methods they take to impoſe
their writings upon us may ſerve to countenance either
truth or faliehood,"
His zeal to propagate Chriſtianity in the world appears
by many and large benefactions to that end, which are
enumerated in his funeral ſermon: "He was at the charge
of the tranſlation and impreſion of the New Testament
into the Malayan language, which he ſent over all the
Eart-lodies. He gave a noble reward to hini that tranſ.
Tated Grotius's incomparable book of the Truth of the
. * Chriflian Religion into Arabic ; and was at the charge of
a whole impreſion, which he took care to order to be
diſtributed in a:l the countries where that language is un.
derſtood. He was reſolved to have carried on the iina
preſſion of the New Teſtament in the Turkiſh language ;
but the company thought it become them to be the djers
of it, and ſo ſuffered him only to give a large rare towards
it.---He was at leren hundred pounds charge in the edi.
tion of the Iriſh Bible, which he ordered to be diſtributo
ed in Ireland ; and he contributed largely both to the im.
preſſion of the Welſh Bible, and of the Irish Bible in
Scotla ... He gave, during his life, three hundred pounds
to advance the deſign of propagating the Chriſtian relia
gion in America j. and as ſoon as he heard that the Eaſto


PREFAG E.
the
India Company were entertaining propoſitions for the like
delign in the Eaſt, he preſently ſent an hundred pounds.
for a beginning and an example, but intended to carry it
much farther, when it ſhould be ſet on foot to purpoſe.
He had deſigned, though ſome accidents did, upon great
conſiderations, divert him from ſettling it during his life,
but not from ordering it by his will, that a liberal pro.
viſion ſhould be made for one who ſhould, in a very few :
, well-digeſted fermions, every year, ſet forth the truth of
the Chriſtian religion in general, without deſcending to
the ſubdiviſions amongſt Chriſtians ; and who ſhould be
changed every third year, that ſo the noble ſtudy and em.
ployment might paſs through many hands, by which means
many might become maſters of the argument.
In his younger years he had thoughts of entering into
holy orders : and one reaſon that determined him againſt
it was, that he believed he might in ſome reſpects be more
ſerviceable to religion, by continuing a layman. “ His
having no intereſts with relation to religion, beſides thoſe
of ſaving his own ſoul, gave him as he thought, a more un
fufpected authority in writing or acting on that fide. He
knew the profane crew fortified themſelves againſt all that.
was ſaid by men of our profeſſion, with this, that it was
their trade and that they were paid for it ; he hoped
therefore that he might have the more influence the leſs.
he ſhared in the patrimony of the church.”
Mr. Locke, whoſe accurate talent in reaſoning is much
celebrated, even by the ſceptics and infidels of our times,
Thowed his zeal for Chriſtianity, firſt, in his middle age;
by publiſhing a diſcourſe on purpoſe to demonſtrate the
reaſonableneſs of believing Jeſus to be the promiſed Meſ.
ſiah , and, after that, in the laſt years of his life, by a
rery judicious commentary upon ſeveral of the epiſties of
St. Paul.
He ſpeaks of the MIRACLES wrought" by our Saviour
and his apoſtles in the ſtrongeſt manner, both as facts un."
exceptionably true, and as the cleareſt evidences of a die
vine million. His words are thefe : “ The evidences or
our Saviour's miſion from heaven is fo great, in the mula
titude of his miracles he did before all forts of people
(which the divine providence and wiſdom had fo ordered,
that they never were nor could be denied by any of the


PREF, AC E.
vii
enemies and oppoſers of Chriſtianity,) that what he deliv.
ered cannot but be received as the oracles of God, and un-
queſtionable verity.” And again, “ After his reſurrection,
he feat his apoitles among the nations, accompanied
with miracles; which were done in all parts fo frequently,
and before fo many witneſſes of all ſorts in broad day.
light, that, as I have often obſerved, the enemies of Chriſ.
tianity have never dared to deny thein; no not Julian
himſelf, who neither wanted ſkill nor power to inquire in-
to the truth ; nor would have failed to have proclaimed
and expofed it, if he could have detected a'ny falſehood in
the hiſtory of the goſpel, or found the leaſt ground to
queſtion the matter of fact publiſhed by Chriſt and his a-
poltles. The number and evidence of the miracles done
by our Saviour and his followers, by the power and force
of truth, bore down this mighty and accompliſhed em.
peror, and all his parts in his own dominions He durſt
not deny co plain watter of fact ; which being granted,
the truth of our Saviour's doctrine and miſſion unavoida.
bly follows, notwithſtanding whatſoever artful ſuggeſtions
his wit could invent, or malice ſhould offer to the contrary.
To thoſe who aſk, “ What need was there of a Sar.
iour ? what advantage have we by Jeſus Chriit?" Mr.
Locke replies, “It is enough to juſtify the fitneſs of any
thing to be done by reſolving it into the wiſdom of God;
who has done it ; whereof our narrow underſtandings and
fhort views may utterly incapacitate us to judge. We
know little of this viſible, and nothing at all of the ſtate
of that intellectual world ( wherein are infinite numbers and
degrees of fpirits out of the reach of our ken or gueſs)
and therefore know not what tranſactions there were be.
tween God and our Saviour in reference to his kingdom.
We know not what need there was to fet up a Flead and
a Chieftain in oppoſition to THE PRINCE OF THIS WORLD,
THE PRINCE OF THE POWER OF THE AIR, &c. whereof
there are more than obſcure intimations in fcriptures.
And we ſhall take too much upon us, if we ſhould call
God's wiſdom úr providence to account, and pertly con.
demn for needleſs all that our weak and perhaps biaſſed
' underſtanding cannot account for.” And then ſhews at
large the neceſſity there was of the goſpel revelation, to
deliver the world from the miſerable fate of darkneſs and


PRETAC E.
ignorance that mankind were in, 1. As to the true knowl.
edge of God, 2. As to the worſhip to be paid him,
3. As to the ducies to be performed to him. To which
he adds the mighty aids and encouragements to the per
formance of our duty, i. From the aſſurance the goſpel
gives of future rewards and puniſh nents; and, 2. From
the promiſe of the Spirit of God to direct and aftit us.
The holy fcriptures are every where mentioned by his
with the greateſt reverence. He calls them the Holy
Books, the Sacred Text, Holy Writ, and Divine Reve.
lation; and exhorts Chriſtians to betake themſelves in
earbelt to the ſtudy of the way to ſalvation, in thoſs holy
wrings wherein God has revealed it from heaven, and
propoſed it to the world ; feeking our religion where we
are ſure it is in truth to be found, com ring fpiritual
things with ſpiritual.” And, in a letter written the year
before his death to one who aſked this question, “ \Vhat
is the ſhorteſt and fureft way, for a young Gentleman to
attaia to a true knowledge of the Chriſtian religion, in the
full and just extent of in?" his anſwer is, “ Litlim ſtudy
the holy fcripture, eſpecially the New Teſtament. There-
in are contained the words of eternal life. It has God
for its Author ; Lalvatioa for its end ;. and truth, without
any mixture of error, for its matter.” A direction that
was copied from his own praciice, in the latter part of his
life, and after his retirement from bußucfs ; when, for
fourteen or fifteen years, he applied himſelf eſpecially to
the ſtudy of the holy Scriptures, and employed the laſt
years of his life hardly in any thing elſz. He was never
weary of admiriog the great views of that ſacred book,
and the juſt relation of all its parts. He every day, made
diſcoveries in it, that gave hin freſn cauſe of admiration.".
Of St. Paul in particular, upon ſeveral of whoſe epiſtles.
he drew up a moſt uſeful commentary, he ſays, “ That he
was miraculouſly called to the miniſtry of the goſpel, and
declared to be a choſen veſſel :-- Toat he had the whole
doctrine of the goſpel from God by immedia e revelation :,
That for his information in the Chriſtian knowledge,
and the myſteries and depths of the difpenfation of God
by Jeſus Chrilt, God himſelf had condeſcended to be hi3.
inſtructor and teacher :--That he had received the light
of the goſpel from the Fountain:20d Father of light him,


PREF AC E.
ſelf :-and, That an exact obfervation of his reaſonings
and inferences, is the only ſafe guide for the right under-
ſtanding of him, under the Spirit of God, that directed
thefe facred writings."
. And the death of this great man was agreeable to his
life ; for we are informed by one who was with him when
he died, and had lived in the fame family for ſeven years
before, that the day before his death he particularly ex-
borted all about him to read the holy ſcriptures : That he
defired to be remembered by them at evening prayers ;
and being told, that if he would, the whole family ſhould
come and pray by him in his chamber, he anſwered,, he
ſhould be very glad to have it ſo, if it would not give too
much trouble : That an occaſion offering to ſpeak of the
geodoeſs of God, he cſpecially exalted ihe love which
God Thewed to man, in juſtifying him by faith in Jeſus
Chriſt ; and returned God thanks in particular for hav-
ing called him to the knowledge of that divine Saviour.
• About two mooths before his death he drew up a letter
to a gentleman (wiio afterwards diſtinguiſhed himſelf by a
very different way of thinking and writing. ) and left this
-direction opon it, 6 To be delivered to him after may de-
ceaſe.” In it are theſe remarkable words, “ This life is
a ſcene of vanity that ſoon piffes away, and affords no
folid ſatisfaction, but in the conſciouſnels of doing well,
and in the hopes of another life. This is what I can ſay
upon experience, and what you will find to be true, when
you came to make up the account."
Sir Iſaac Newton, univerſaily acknowledged to be the
ableit philoſopher and :vathematician that this or perhaps
any other nation has produced, is alſo well known to have
10.a. been a firm believer, and a ſerious Chriſtian. His dif.
coveries concerning the frame and ſyſtem of the univerſe
were applied by him, as Mr. Boyle's inquiries into nature
had been, to demonſtrate, againit Atheiſts of all kinds,
the being of a God, and illuſtrare his power and wiſdom
in the creation of the world. Of which a better account
cannot be given, than in the words of an ingenious perſon
who has been much converfant in his philofophical writings:
66. At the end of his mathematical principles of natural
philoſophy he has given us his thoughts concerning the
Deity, wherein he firſt obſerves, that the fimilitude found


PREFACE.
one hand, to binder well meaning people from being mil-
led by the pain boaſts of our modern pretenders to rea-
foo ; and, on the other hand, to check the inclination of
the wicked and vicious to be miſled, when both of them
have before their eyes ſuch freſh and eminent inſtances of
ſound reaſoning, and a firm faith, joined together in one
and the ſame mind,
3. Further, as theſe were perſons generally eſteemed
for virtue and goodneſs, and notwithſtanding their high
attairments, remarkable for their modelty and humility ;
their examples fhew us, that a Itrong and cleat reaſon
naturally leads to the belief of revelation, when it is not
under the influences of vice or pride.
4. And finally, as they are all laymen, there is no
room for the enemies of revealed religion, to allege that
they were prejudiced by intereſt, or ſecular confiderations
of any kind. A ſuggeſtion that has really no weight,
when arged againſt the writings of the clergy in defence
of revelation, ſince they do not deſire to be truſted upon
their own authority, but upon the reaſons they offer ; and
lawyers and phyſicians are not leſs truſted, becauſe they
live by their profeſſions ; but it is a ſuggeſtion that eaſily
takes hold of weak minds, and eſpecially ſuch as catch at
objections, and are willing to be caught by them. And,
conſidering the diligence of the adverſary in making pro.
ſelytes, and drawing men from the faith of Chriſt ; equal
diligence is required of thoſe who are to maintain thai
faith, not only to leave men no real ground, but even no
colour or pretence for their infidelity.
The following diſcourſes, except that concerning the
Evidences of Chriſtian Religion, were all publiſhed in
ſeperate papers fome years ago, and afterwards collected
into volumes, with marks of diſtinction at the end of many
of them, to point out the writers. Mr. Addiſon's are
there diſtinguiſhed by ſome one of the letters of the word
CLIO ; and the ſame marks of diſtinction are here con.
sinued ; as are alſo the reſt, where any letter was found
at the end of the diſcourſe.


*** Mr. ADDISON having left his treatiſe on
the truth of the Chriſtian religion unfiniſhed, the
Publiſher, to make it ſomewhat more complete, fe-
lected, from the Spectator, ſeveral papers ( moſtly
the author's) on the being and perfiftions of God,
the nature of religion, the immortality of the ſoul,
and a future ftate ; and printed them with it.
But though the treatiſe and the other papers are
well calculated to prove the truth of, and recom-
mend the Chriſtian religion to, the faith and prac-
tice of mankind ; yet their influences will be but
ſmall, till men are awakened out of that infenfibility
into which they are fallen, and brought to believe
how much they are intereſted in the great truths
Chriſtianity reveals. To beget thought and excite
iriquiry it was judged the following extract from
Mons. Paſcal's Thoughts, againſt an atheiſtical
indifference, would neither be an improper, nor an
unacceptable introduction to the ſubſequent papers.
-
PT


xiv
INTRODUCTION.
doctrines, as to lend them a manifeſt confirm-
ation and ſupport.
If they would give their objections any
ſtrength, they ought to urge, that they have
applied their utmoſt endeavour, and have
uſed all means of information, even thoſe
which the church recommends, without fat.
isfaction. Did they expreſs themfelves thus,
they would indeed attack religion in one of
its chief pretenſions. But I hope to ſhew, in
the following papers, that no rational perfon
can ſpeak after this manner, and I dare aſſert
that none ever did. We know very well
how men, under this indifference of ſpirit,
behave themſelves in the caſe. They fup-
poſe themſelves to have made the mightieſt
efforts towards the inſtruction of their minds,
when they have ſpent ſome hours in reading
the ſcriptures, and have aſked fome queſtions
of a clergyman concerning the articles of
faith. When this is done, they declare to
all the world they have conſulted books and
men without ſucceſs. I ſhall be excuſed, if
I refrain from not telling ſuch men (what I
have often told them that this neglect of
theirs is inſupportable. It is not a foreign
or a petty intereſt which is here in debate ;
we are curſelves the parties, and all our
hopes and fortunes are the depending ſtake.
The iminortality of the foul is a thing
which ſo deeply concerns, ſo infinitely im.
ports us, that we muſt have utterly loit our
feeling, to be altogether cold and remiſs in
our enquiries about it. And all cur actions,


INTRODUCTION.
XV
or deſigns, ought to bend ſo very different a
way, according as we are either encouraged
or forbidden to embrace the hope of eternal
rewards, that it is impoßible for us to pro.
ceed with judgment and diſcretion, other.
wiſe than as we keep this point always in
view, which ought to be our ruling object
and final aim.
Thus is it our higheſt intereſt, no leſs than
our principal duty, to get light into a ſubject
on which our whole conduct depends. And
therefore, in the number of wavering and
unſatisfied men, I make the greateſt differ-
ence imaginable between thoſe who labour
with all their force to obtain inſtruction, and
thoſe who live without giving themſelves
any trouble, or ſo much as any thought, in
this affair.
I cannot but be touched with a hearty coin-
pailion for thoſe who fincerely groan under
This diſſatisfaction ; who look upon it as the
greateſt of misfortunes, and who ſpare no
pains to deliver themſelves from it, by mak.
ing theſe reſearches their chief employment
and moſt ſerious ſtudy. But as for thoſe
who paſs their life without reflecting on its
illue, and who, for this reaſon alone, becauſe
they find not in themſelves a convincing tef.
limony, refuſe to ſeek it elſewhere, and to
examine to the bottom, whether the opinion
propoſed be ſuch as we are wont to entertain
by popular ſimplicity and credulity, or ſuch
as thougli obfcure in itſelf, yet is built on folid
and immoveable foundations, I conſider them


xvi
INTRODUCTION.
after quite another manner. The careleff
neſs which they betray in an affair whore
their perſon, their intereſt, their whole eter-
nity, is einbarked, rather provokes my re-
fentment than engages my pity ; nay, it
ſtrikes me with amazement and aſtoniſhment;
it is a monſter to my apprehenſion. I ſpeak
not this as tranſported with the pious zeal of
a fpiritual and rapturous devotion. On the
contrary, I affirm, that the love of ourſelves,
the intereſt of mankind, and the moſt ſimple
and artleſs reafon, do naturally inſpire us
with theſe ſentiments; and that to ſee thus
far, is not to exceed the ſphere of unrefined,
uneducated men.
It requires no great elevation of foul to
obſerve, that nothing in this world is pro-
ductive of true contentment; that our pleaf-
ures are vain and fugitive, our troubles in.
numberable and perpetual ; and that after all,
death, which threatens us every moment,
muſt, in the compaſs of a few years, (perhaps
of a few days) put us into the eternal condi-
tion of happineſs, or mifery, or nothing. Be-
tween us and theſe three great periods, or
ſtates, no barrier is interpoſed but life, the
moſt brittle thing in all nature; and the hap-
pineſs of heaven being certainly not deſign-
ed for thoſe who doubt whether they have
an immortal part to enjoy it, ſuch perſons
have nothing left but the miſerable chance of
annihilation, or of hell. .
There is not any reflection which can have
more reality than this, as there is none which


INTRODUCTION.
xvii
las greater terror. Let uz ſet the braveſt
face on our condition, and play the heroes as
artfully as we can, yet fee here the iſſue
which attends the goodlieſt life upon earth!
'T'is in vain for men to turn alide their
thoughts from this eternity which awaits
them, as if they were able to deſtroy it, by
denying it a place in their imaginations. It
fubfifts in ſpite of them ; it advanceth unob.
ferved: and death, which is to draw the cur-
tain from it, will, in a ſhort time, infallibly
reduce them to the dreadful neceflity of be-
ing forever nothing, or forever miſerable.
We have here a doubt of the moſt affrighte
ing conſequence, and which therefore to en-
tertain may be well eſteemed the moſt grieve
ous of mistortunes ; but, at the ſame time,
it is our indiſpenſable duty not to lie under
it without ſtruggling for deliverance.
He then who doubts, and yet ſeeks not to
be reſolved, is equally unhappy and unjuft.
But if withal he appears eaſy and compoled;
if he freely declares his indifference ; nay, if
he takes a vanity in profeſſing it, and ſeems
to make this moft deplorable condition the
ſubject of his pleaſure and joys I have not
words to fix a name on ſo extravagant a crea.
ture. Where is the very poſſibility of entera
ing into chefe thoughts and reſolutions? what
delight is there in expecting miſery without
end? what vanity in finding one's ſelf en-
compailed with impenetrable darkneſs ? or
what conſolation in deſpairing forever of a
comforter ?
iheſe thone very poffinagant a crea
L'espectinding darknel
B 2


xviii
INTRODUCTION.
To ſit down with ſome fort of acquieſce
ence under ſo fatal an ignorance, is a thing
unaccountable beyond all expreſſion: and they
who live with ſuch a difpoſition ought to be
made ſenſible of its abſurdity and ſtupidity,
by having their inward reflections laid open
to them, that they may grow wife by the
proſpect of their own folly. For behold how
men are wont to reaſon, while they obfti.
pately rernain thus ignorant of what they
are, and refuſe all methods of inſtruction and
illuinination !
Who has ſent me into the world, I know
not ; what the world is, I know not, nor.
what I am myſelf. I ain under an aſtonish-
ing and terrifying ignorance of all things. I
know not what my body is, what my fenſes,
or my ſoul. This very part of me which
thinks what I ſpeak, which reflects upon ev.
ery thing elſe, and even upon itſelf, yet is as
mere a ſtranger to its own nature as the dull.
eſt thing I carry about me. I behold theſe
frightful ſpaces of the univerſe with which I
am encompaſſed, and I find myſelf chained
to one little corner of the vaſt extent, with-
out underſtanding why I am placed in this
feat rather than any other; or why this mo-
ment of time, giveä me to live, was aſſigned
rather at ſuch a point, than at any other of
the whole eternity which was before me, or
of all that which is to come after me. I ſee
nothing but infinities on all ſides, which de
vour and ſwallow me up, like an atoin ; like
a lhadow, which endures but a ſingle inſtant,


INTRODUCTION.
xix
and is never to return. The ſum of my
knowledge is, that I muſt ſhortly die ; but
that which I am moft ignorant of, is this.
very death which I feel myſelf unable to de.
cline.
As I know not whence I came, ſo I know
not whither I go ; onl: this I know, that at
my departure out of the world, I muſt either
fall forever into nothing, or into the hands.
of an incenſed God, without being capable
of deciding which of theſe two conditions
fhall eternally be my portion. Such is my
itate ; full of weakneſs, obſcurity, and wretch.
edneſs. And from all this Iconclude, that I
ought therefore to paſs all the days of my
life, without conſidering what is hereafter to
befall me, and that I have nothing to do but
to follow my inclinations, without reflection
or diſquiet, in doing all that which, if what
men fay of a miſerable eternity prove true,
will infallibly plunge me into it. 'Tis pofſi,
ble I might find ſome light to clear up my
doubts, but I ſhall not take a minute's pains,
nor ſtir one foot in the ſearch of it. On the
contrary, I am reſolved to treat thoſe with
ſcorn and deriſion who labour in this inquiry
with care ; and ſo to run, without fear or
foreſight, upon the trial of the grand event;
permitting myfelf to be led ſoftly on to death,
utterly uncertain as to the eternal ifſue of
my future condition.
In earneſt, 'tis a glory to religion to have
ſo unreaſonable men for its profeffed ene-
mies; and their oppoſition is of ſo little dane


XX
INTRODUCTION.
ger, that it ſerves to illuſtrate the principal
truths which our religion teaches. For the
main ſcope of Chriſtian faith is to eſtablish
theſe two principles, the corruption of na.
ture, and the redemption by J ſus Chriſt.
And theſe oppoſers, if they are ot no uſe to-
wards demonftrating the truth of the re-
demption, by the ſanctity of their lives, yet
are, at leaſt, adınirably uſeful in ſhewing the
corruption of nature, by fo unnatural fenti.
ments and ſuggeſtions.
Nothing is ſo important to any man as his-
own eſtate and condition ;. nothing fo great,
fo amazing, as eternity. if therefore we find
perſons indifferent to the loſs of their being,
and to the danger of endleſs miſery, 'iis im.
poflible that this temper ſhould be natural..
They are quite other men, in all other re-
gards: they fear the ſmalleſt inconveniences;
they ſee them as they approach, and feet them
if they arrive ; and he who pafleth days and
nights in chagrin or deſpair, for the loſs of
employment, or for ſome imaginary blemiſh
in his honour, is the very fame mortal who
knows that he muſt loſe all by death, and yet
remains without diſquiet, reſentment or emo.
tion. This wonderful inſenſibility with reſ,
pect to things of the moſt fatal conſequence,
in a heart ſo nicely fengible, of the meaneſt
trifles, is an aſtoniſhing prodigy, an unintel.
ligible inchantment, a lupernatural blindneſs
and infatuation,
A man in a cloſe dungeon, who knows
not whether ſentence of death is paſſed upon
They arthat this is of endi


INTRODUCTION.
xx
him, who is allowed but one hour's ſpace to
inform himſelf concerning it, and that one
hour fufficient, in caſe it have paffed, to ob-
tain its reverſe, would act contrary to nature
and ſenſe, ſhould he make uſe of this hour
not to procure information, but to purſue
his vanity or ſport. And yet ſuch is the con.
dition of the perſons whom we are now de-
ſcribing: only with this difference, that the
evils with which they are every moment
threatened do infinitely ſurpafs the bare loſs
of life, and that tranſient puniſhment which
the priſoner is ſuppoſed to apprehend. Yet
they run thoughtleſs upon the precipice, hav.
ing only caſt a veil over their eyes, to hin.
der them from diſcerning it, and divert them-
ſelves with the officiouſneſs of ſuch as charit-
ably warn them of their danger.
Thus, not the zeal álone of thoſe who
heartily ſeek God demonitrates the truth of
religion, but likewiſe the blindneſs of thoſe
who utterly forbear to ſeek him, and who
paſs their days under fo horrible a neglect.
There muſt needs be a ſtrange turn and rev.
olution in human nature, before men can ſub.
mit to ſuch a condition ; much more, ere
they can applaud and value themſelves upon
it. For, fuppofing them to have obtained
an abſolute certainty that there was no fear
after death, but of falling into nothing;
ought not this to be the ſubject rather of def.
pair than of jollity ? And is it not therefore
the higheſt pitch of ſenſeleſs extravagance,
while we want this certainty, to glory in ouz
doubt and diſtruft ?


xxii
INTRODUCTION.
And yet after all, it is too viſible, that man
has ſo far declined froin his original nature,
and as it were departed from himſelf, as to
nouriſh in his heart a ſecret feed plot of joy,
ſpringing up froin theſe libertine reflections.
This brutal eaſe or indolence, between the
fear of hell and of annihilation, carries fome.
what fo tempting in it, that not only thoſe
who have the misfortune to be ſceptically in.
clined, but even thoſe who cannot unſettle
their judgment, do yet efteem it reputable to
take up even a counterfeit diffidence. For we
may obſerve the largeſt part of the herd to.
be of this latter kind, falſe pretenders to in.
fidelity, and mere hypocrites in atheiſm.
There are perſons whom we have heard de-
clare that the genteel way of the world con.
fifts in thus acting the bravo. This is that
which they term throwing off the yoke, and
which the greater number of them profeſs,
not ſo much out of opinion, as out of gallant-
ry and complaiſance.
Yet, if they have the leaſt reſerve of com-
mon ſenſe, it will not be difficult to make
them apprehend, how iniſerably they abuſe
themſelves, by laying fo falſe a foundation of
applauſe and eſteem. For this is not the way
to raiſe a character, even with worldly men,
who as they are able to paſs a ſhrewd judg.
ment on things, ſo they eaſily diſcern, that
the only method of ſucceeding in our tem.
poral affairs is to approve ourſelves honeſt,
faithful, prudent, and capable of advancing
the intereſt of our friends ;. becauſe men nai-


INTRODUCTION.
xxiii
urally love nothing but that which ſome way
contributes to their uſe and benefit. But now
what benefit can we any way derive from
hearing a man confeſs, that he has eafed him-
ſelf of the burden of religion ; that he be-
lieves no God, as the witneſs and inſpector
of his conduct; that he conſiders himſelt as
abfolute maſter of what he does, and account.
able for it only to his own mind? Will he
fancy that we ſhall be hence induced to re-
poſe a greater degree of confidence in him
hereafter, or to depend oa his comfort, his
advice or affiſtance in the neceſſities of life?
Can he imagine us to take any great delight
or complacency, when he tells us, that he
doubts whether our very ſoul be any thing
more than a little wind and ſmoke; nay,
when he tells it us with an air of affurance,
and a voice that teſtifies the contentment of
his heart? Is this a thing to be ſpoken of
with pleaſantry? or ought it not rather to be
lamented with the deepeſt ſadneſs as the moſt
melancholic reflection that can firike our
thoughts?
If they would compoſe them to ſerious
conſideration, they muſt perceive the method
in which they are engaged to be ſo very ill
choſen, fo repugnant to gentility, and to re-
mote even from that good air and grace which
they purſue, that, on the contrary, nothing
can more effectually expoſe them to the con.
tempt and averfion of mankind, or mark them
out for perſons detective in parts and judg.
ment. And indeed ſhould we demand from


INTRODUCTION.
XIV
as to be capable of entertaining them in near.
eft. If they cannot be Chriftian men, let
them however be men of honour. And let
them, in conclufion, acknowledge that there
are but two ſorts of perſons who deſerve to
be ſtyled reaſonable, either thoſe who ſerve
God with all their heart, becauſe they know
him; or thoſe who ſeek him with all their
heart, becauſe as yet they know him not.
If then there are perſons who ſincerely in.
guire after God, and who, being truly fenfi.
ble of their miſery, affectionately deſire to be
reſcued from it, it is to theſe alone that we
can in juſtice afford our labour and ſervice,
for their direction in finding out that light
of which they feel the want.
But as for thoſe who live without either
knowing God, or endeavouring to know
him, they look on themſelves as ſo little de-
ferving their own care, that they cannot but
be unworthy the care of others : and it re-
quires all the charity of the religion which
they deſpiſe, not to deſpiſe them to ſuch a
degree, as even to abandon them to their
own folly. But fiuce the ſame religion obliges
us to conſider them, while they remain in
this life, as ſtill capable of God's enlightening
grace ; and to acknowledge it as very poſli-
ble, that, in the courſe of a few days, they
may be repleniſhed with a fuller meaſure of
faith than we now enjoy, and we ourſelves,
on the other ſide, fall into the depths of their
prefent blindneſs and miſery; we ought to
do for them what we defire ſhould be done


XXvi
INTRODUCTION.
to us in their caſe, to intreat them that they
would take pity on themſelves, and would,
at leaſt, advance a ſtep or two forward, if
perchance they may come into the light. For
which end it is withed, that they would em.
ploy, in the perufal of this piece, ſome few
of theſe hours which they ſpend ſo unprofit-
ably in other purſuits. 'Tis poſſible they may
gain ſomewhat by the reading ; at leaſt they
cannot be great loſers. But if any ſhall ap-
ply themſelves to it, with perfect fincerity,
and with an unfeigned deſire of knowing the
truth, I deſpair not of their ſatisfaction, or
of their being convinced by ſo many proofs
of our divine religion as they will here find
laid together.”


THE
EVIDENCES
OF THE
CHRISTIAN RELIGION.
SECT. I.
1. General diviſion of the following diſcourſe, with re-
gard to Pagan and Jewiſh authors, who mention par.
ticulars relating to our Saviour.
II. Not probable that any ſuch ſhould be mentioned by
Pagan writers who lived at the ſame time, from the
nature of ſuch tranſactions
III, Eſpecially when related by the Jews.
IV. And heard at a diſtance by thoſe who pretended to
as great miracles of their own.
V. Beſides, that no Pagan writers of that age lived in
Judea, or its confines.
VI. And becauſe many books of that age are loſt.
VII. An inſtance of one record proved lo be authentic.
VIII. A ſecond record of probable, though not undoubt-
ed, authority.
I. THAT I may lay before you a full ftate
of the ſubject under our conſidera-
tion and methodife the ſeveral particulars that
I touched upon in diſcourſe with you, I ſhall
firſt take notice of ſuch Pagan authors as have
given their teſtimony to the hiſtory of our
Saviour ; reduce thefe authors under their
reſpective claſſes, and ſhew what authority
their teftimonies carry with them. Seconda
ly, I ſhall take notice of *Jewiſh authors in
the faine light.
II. There are many reaſons why you hould
not expect that matters of ſuch a wonderful
nature ſhould be taken notice of by thoſe
eminent Pagan writers, who were contem-
* The author did not live to write this ſecond part.


EVIDENCES OF THE
poraries with Jeſus Chrift, or by thoſe who
lived before his diſciples had perſonally ap.
peared among them, and aſcertained the re.
port which had gone abroad concerning a
lile ſo full of miracles.
Suppofing ſuch things had happened at
this day in Switzerland, or among the Gri.
fons, who make a greater figure in Europe
than Judea did in the Roman Empire, would
they be immediately believed by thoſe who
live at a great diſtance from them? or would
any certain account of them be tranſmitted
into foreign countries, within fo fort a ſpace
of time as that of our Saviour's public min.
iſtry ? Such kinds of news, though never fo
true, ſeldom gain credit, till fome time after
they are tranfacted, and expored to the ex-
amination of the curious, who, by laying to-
gether circumitances, atteſtations, and chara
acters of thoſe who are concerned in them,
either receive or reject what at firſt none but
eye-witneiles could abſolutely believe or dife
believe. In a caſe of this fort, it was natur.
al for men of ſenſe and learning to treat the
whole account as fabulous : or, at fartheſt,
to ſuſpend their belief of it, until all things
ſtood together in their full light..
III. Beſides, the Jews were branded not
only for ſuperſtitions different from all the
religions of the Pagan world, but in a partice
ular manner ridiculed for being a credulous
people : ſo that whatever reports of ſuch a
nature came out of that country, were look.
ed upon by the Heathen world as falſe, friv.
olous, and improbable.


CHRISTIAN RELIGION.
29
of our So nature, the they had time to ſuch
IV. We may further obſerve, that the or-
dinary practice of magic in thoſe times, with
the many pretended prodigies, divinations,
apparitions, and local miracles among the
Heathens, made them lefs attentive to ſuch
news from Judea, till they had time to con.
fider the nature, the occaſion, and the end
of our Saviour's miracles, and were awaken.
ed by many ſurpriſing events, to allow them
any conſideration at all.
V. We are indeed told by St. Matthew,
that the fame of our Saviour, during his life,
went throughout all Syria ; and that there
followed him great multitudes of people from
Galilee, Judea, Decapolis, Idumea, from be-
yond Jordan, and from Tyre and Sidon.
Now, had there been any hiſtorians of thoſe
times, and places, we might have expected to
have ſeen in them fome account of thoſe
wonderful tranſactions in Judea; but there
is not any ſingle author extant, in any kind,
of that age, in any of thoſe countries..
VI. How many books have periſhed in
which poſſibly there might have been men.
tion of our Saviour ? Look among the Roa
mans, how few of their writings are come
down to our times! In the ſpace of two
hundred years from our Saviour's birth when
there was ſuch a multitude of writers of all
kinds, how ſmall is the number of authors.
that have made their way to the preſent age.
VII. One authentic record, and that the
moſt authentic Heathen record, we are preta
ty ſure is loft, I mean the account ſent by the
C2


30
EVIDENCES OF THE
governor of Judea, under whom our Saviour
was judged, condemned, and crucified. It
was the cuſtom in the Roman Empire, as it
is to this day, in all the governments of the
world, for the prefects and viceroys of diſtant
provinces, to tranſmit to their ſovereign a
ſummary relation of every thing remarkable
in their adminiſtration. That Pontius Pilate,
in his account, would have touched on ſo ex.
traordinary an event in Judea, is not to be
doubted : and that he actually did, we learn
from Juſtin Martyr, who lived about a hune
dred years after our Saviour's death, reſided,
made converts, and ſuffered martyrdom at
Rome, where he was engaged with philofo-
phers, and in a particular manner with Cref.
cens the Cynic, who could eaſily have detect.
ed, and would not fail to have expoſed him,
had he quoted a record not in being, or
made any falſe citation out of it. Would the
great apologiſt have challenged Creſcens to
difpute the cauſe of Chriſtianity with him be-
fore the Roman fenate, had he forged ſuch
an evidence ? Or would Creſcens have re-
fuſed the challenge, could he have triumph-
ed over him in the detection of ſuch a for-
gery? To which we muſt add, that the a.
pology which appeals to this record, was prea
fented to a learned emperor, and to the whole
body of the Roman fenate. This father, in
his apology, ſpeaking of the death and fufs
fering of our Saviour, refers the emperor for
the truth of what he ſays to the acts of Pon..
tius Pilate which I have here mentioned


CHRISTIAN RELIGION:
35
Tertullian, who wrote his apology about fifty,
years after Juſtin, doubtleſs referred to the
fame record, when he tells the governor of
Rome, that the emperor Tiberius having re.
ceived an account out of Paleſtine in Syria,
of the divine perſon who had appeared in
that country, paid him a particular regard,
and threatened to puniſh any who ſhould aca
cuſe the Chriſtians ; nay, that the emperor.
would have adopted him among the deities
whom they worſhipped, had not the ſenate
refuſed to come in to his propoſal.. Tertul..
lian, who gives us this hiſtory, was not only
one of the moſt learned men of his age, but,
what adds a greater weight to his authority
in this caſe, was eminently ſkilful and well
read in the laws of the Roman Empire. Nor.
can it be ſaid, that Tertullian grounded his..
quotation upon the authority of Juſtin Mar...
tyr, becauſe we find he mixes, it with mat...
ters of fact which are not related by that au.
thor. Euſebius mentions the ſame ancient
record, but as it was not extant in his time,
I ſhall not infift upon his authority in this
point. If it be objected that this particular
is not mentioned in any Roman hiſtorian, I
fhall uſe the ſame argument in a parallel cafe,
and fee whether it will carry any force with
it. Ulpian the Great Roman lawyer gather-
ed together all the imperial edicts that had
been made againſt the Chriſtians; but did
any one ever ſay that there had been no fuch
edicts, becauſe they were not mentioned in
the hiſtories of thoſe Emperors ? Beſides,


32
EVIDENCES OF THE
who knows but this circumſtance of Tiberia
us was mentioned in other hiſtorians that
have been loit, tho' not to be found in any
ftill extant? Has not Suetonius many partica
ulars of this Emperor omitted by Tacitus,
and Herodian many that are not fo much
as hinted at by either! As for the fpurious
acts of Pilate, now extant, we know the oce
caſion and time of their writing, and had
there not been a true and authentic record of
this nature, they would never have been
forged.
VIII. The ſtory of Abgarus, king of Edef-
fa, relating to the letter which he ſent to our
Saviour, and to that which he received from
him, is a record of great authority ; and
though I will not inſiſt upon it, may venture:
to ſay, that had we ſuch an evidence for any
fact in. Pagan hiſtory, an author would be
thought very unreafonable who ſhould reject
it. I believe you will be of my opinion, if
you will peruſe, with other authors who have
appeared in vindication of theſe letters as
genuine, the additional arguments which
have been made uſe of by the late famous
and learned Dr. Grabe, in the ſecond volume:
of his Spicilegium..


CHRISTIIN RELIGION.
SEC. II.
I. What facts in the hiſtory of our Saviour might be
taken notice of by Pigin authors.
II. What particular fačts are taken notice of, and by
what Pagan authors.
Ill. How Celfus repreſented our Saviour's miracles.
IV. The ſame repreſentation made of them by other un-
believers, and proved unreaſonable.
V. What facts in our Saviour's hiſtory not to be expected
from Pagan writers.
-
-
-
-
I. I E come now to conſider what un-
V doubted authorities are extant 2-
mong Pagan writers : and here we muſt pre-
miſe, that ſome parts of our Saviour's hiitory
may be reaſonably expected from Pagans. I
mean ſuch parts as might be known to thoſe
who lived at a diſtance from Judea, as well
as to thoſe who were the followers and eyes.
witnefles of Chril.
II. Such particulars are moſt of theſe
which follow, and which are all atteſted by
fome one or other of thoſe Heathen authors,
who lived in or near the age of our Saviour
and his diſciples. “ That Auguſtus Cæſar
had ordered the whole empire to be cenſed
or taxed,” which brought our Saviour's re.
puted parents to Bethlchem : this is men-
tioned by ſeveral Roman hiſtorians, as Taci.
tus, Suetonius, and Dion. " That a great
light, or a new ſtar, appeared in the eaſt,
which directed the wiſe men to our Saviour:"
this is recorded by Chalcidius. “ That Herod,
the king of Palestine, ſo often mentioned in
the Roman hiſtory, made a great laughter


34
EVIDENCES OF THE
of innocent children," being ſo jealous of his
fucceffor, that he put to death his own fons
on that account: this character of himn is give
en by ſeveral hiſtorians: and this cruel fact
mentioned by Macrobius, a Heathen author,
who tells it as a known thing, without any
mark or doubt upon it. " That our Saviour
had been in Egypt:" this Celſus, though he
raiſes a monſtrous ſtory upon it, is ſo far
from denying, that he tells us, our Saviour
learned the arts of magic in that country.
6 That Pontius Pilate was governor of Ju.
dea ; that our Saviour was brought in judg.
ment before him, and by him condemned
and crucified :" this is recorded by Tacitus.
« That many miraculous cures and works,
out of the ordinary courſe of nature, were
wrought by him; this is confeſſed by Julian
the apoſtate, Porphyry, and Hierocles, all of
them not only Pagans, but profefled enemies
and perfecutors of Chriſtianity. “ That our
Saviour foretold feveral things which came
to paſs according to his predictions ;' this
was atteſted by Phlegon in his annals, as we
are aſſured by the learned Origen againſt
Celſus. “ That at the time when our Sav.
iour died, there was a miraculous darkneſs,
and a great earthquake :" this is recorded
by the fame Phlegon the Trallian, who was
likewiſe a Pagan, and freeman to Adrian the
emperor. We may here obſerve, that a na-
tive of Trallium, which was not fituate at fo
great a diſtance from Paleſtine, might very
probably be informed of ſuch remarkable en


CHRISTIAN RELIGION.
vents as had paſſed among the Jews in the
age immediately preceding his own times,
fince ſeveral of his countrymen with whom
he had converſed might have received a con.
fuſed report of our Saviour before his cru.
cifixion, and probably lived within the ſhake
of the earthquake, and the ſhadow of the e.
cliple, which are recorded by this author.
" That Chriſt was worſhipped as a God a.
mong the Chriſtians; that they would rather
fuffer death than blafpheme him: that they
received a facrament, and by it entered into
a vow of abftaining from ſin and wickednefs,”
conformable to the advice given by St. Paul :
6 That they had private aſſemblies of worſhip,
and uſed to join together in hymns;" this
is the account which Pliny the younger gives
of Chriſtianity in his days, about ſeventy years
after the death of Chriſt, and which agrees
in all its circumſtances with the accounts we
have in holy writ, of the firſt ftate of Chriſ-
tianity after the crucifixion of our bleffed
Saviour. “That St. Peter, whoſe miracles
are many of them recorded in holy writ, did
many wonderful works," is owned by Julian
the apoſtate, who therefore repreſents him
as a great magician, and one who had in his
poſſeſſion a book of magical fecrets, left him
by our Saviour. “That the devils or evil
fpirits were ſubject to them," we may learn
from Porphyry, who objects to Chriſtianity,
that ſince Jeſus had begun to be worſhipped,
Eſculapius, and the reſt of the Gods, did no
more converſe with men. Nay, Celſus him.


EVIDENCES OF THE
felf affirms the ſame thing in effe&, when he
ſays, that the power which ſeemed to refide
in Chriſtians proceeded from the uſe of cer-
tain names, and the invocati.n of certain de-
mons. Origen remarks on this paſſage, that
the author doubtleſs hints at thoſe Chtiftians
who put to flight evil ſpirits, and healed thoſe
who were poſſeſſed with them : a fact which
had been often ſeen, and which he himſelf
had feen, as he declares in another part of
his diſcourſe againſt Celſus. But at the fame
time he aſſures us, that this miraculous pow.
er was exerted by the uſe of no other name
but that of Jeſus; to which were added fev.
eral paſſages in this hiſtory, but nothing like
any invocation to demons. .
III. Celſus was ſo hard ſet with the report
of our Saviour's miracles, and the confident
atteſtations concerning him, that though he
often intimates that he did not believe them
to be true, yet knowing he might be ſilenced
in ſuch an anſwer, provides himſelf with an-
other retreat, when beaten out of this, viz.
that our Saviour was a magician. Thus he
compares the feeding of ſo many thouſands,
at two different times, with a few loaves and
fiſhes, to the magical feaſts of thoſe Egyp-
tian impoſtors, who would preſent their ſpec-
tators with viſionary entertainments, that
had in them neither ſubſtance nor reality:
which, by the way, is to ſuppoſe, that a hun.
gry and fainting multitude were filled by an
apparition, or ſtrengthened and refreshed
with ſhadows. He knew very well that cliere


CHRISTIAN RELIGION.
37
was ſo many witneſſes and actors, if I may
call them ſuch, in theſe two miracles, that it
was impoflible to refute ſuch multitudes,
who had doubtleſs ſufficiently ſpread the
fame of them, and was therefore in this place
forced to reſort to the other ſolution, that it
was done by magic. It was not enough to
ſay that a miracle, which appeared to ſo
many thouſand eye-witneſſes, was a forgery
of Chriſt's diſciples; and therefore ſuppoſing
them to be eye-witneſſes, he endeavours to
ſhew how they might be deceived.
IV. The unconverted Heathens, who were
preſſed by the many authorities that con-
firmed our Saviour's miracles, as well as the
unbelieving Jews, who had actually ſeen
them, were driven to account for them af.
ter the ſame manner : for, to work by mag.
ic, in the Heathen way of ſpeaking, was, in
the language of the Jews, to caſt out devils
by Beelzebub the prince of the devils. Our
Saviour, who knew that unbelievers, in all
ages, would put this perverſe interpretation
on his miracles, has branded the malignity
of thoſe men, who, contrary to the dictates
of their own hearts, ſtarted ſuch an unrea.
fonable objection as a blaſphemy againſt the
Holy Ghoſt, and declared not only the guilt,
but the puniſhment of fo black a crime. At
the ſame time he condeſcended to ſhew the
vanity and emptineſs of this objection againit
bis miracles, by repreſenting, that they evi.
dently tended to the deitruction of theſe
powers, to whoſe aſſiſtance the enemies of


38
EVIDENCES OF THE
his doctrine then aſcribed them : an argu.
ment, which, if duly weighed, renders the
objection fo very frivolous and groundleſs,
that we may venture to call it even blafphe.
my againſt common ſenſe. Would magic
endeavour to draw off the minds of men
from the worſhip which was paid to ſtocks
and ſtones ; to give them an abhorrence of
thoſe evil ſpirits, who rejoiced in the moſt
cruel ſacrifices, and in cfferings of the great-
eſt impurity; and, in hort, to call upon
mankind to exert their whole ſtrength in the
love and adoration of that one Being, from
whom they derived exiſtence, and on whom
only they were taught to depend every mo-
ment for the happineſs and continuance of it?
Was it the buſineſs of magic to humanize
our natures with compaſſion, forgiveneſs, and
all the inſtances of the moſt extenſive chari.
ty? Would evil ſpirits contribute to make
men fober, chafte, and temperate; and, in a
word, to produce that reformation which
was wrought in the moral world by thoſe
doctrines of our Saviour that received their
fanction from his miracles ? Nor is it poſſible
to imagine, that evil ſpirits would enter into
a combination with our Saviour to cut off all
their correſpondence and intercourſe with
mankind, and to prevent any for the future
from addicting themſelves to thoſe rites and
ceremonies which had done them ſo much
honour. We ſee the early effect which Chrif.
tianity had on the ininds of men in this par.
ticular, by that number of books which were


CHRISTIAN RELIGION.
filled with the fecrets of magic, and made a
facrifice to Chriftianity by the converts inen.
tioned in the Acts of the Apoſtles. We have
likewiſe an eminent inſtance of the inconſiſt-
ency of our religion with magic in the hiſto-
ry of the famous Aquila. This perſon, who
was a kinſman of the emperor Trajan, and
likewiſe a man of great learning, notwith-
Landing he had embraced Chriſtianity, could
not be brought off from the ſtudies of magic
by the repeated admonitions of his fellow
Chriſtians ; fo that at length they expelled
him their fociety, as rather chuſing to looſe
the reputation of fo conſiderable a profelyte,
than communicate with one who dealt in
ſuch dark and infernal practices. Beſides,
we may obſerve, that all the favourers of
magic were the moſt profeffed-and bitter en.
emies to the Chriſtian religion. Not to men.
tion Simon Magus, and many others, I ſhall
only take notice of thoſe two great perfecu.
tors of Chriſtianity, the emperors Adrian
and Julian the apoſtate, both of them initiat.
ed in the myſteries of divination, and ſkilled
in all the depths of magic, I thill only add,
that evil ſpirits cannot be ſuppoſed to have
concurred in the eſtablihment of a religion
which triumphed over them, drove them out
of the places they pofleffed, and diveſted them
of their influence on mankind : nor would I
mention this particular, though it be unani.
miouſly reported by all the ancient Chriſtian
authors, did it not appear, from the authori.
ties above cited, that this was a fact confeſſed
by Heathens themſelves.


40
EVIDENCES OF THE
V. We now fee what a multitude of Pagane
teſtimonies may be produced for all of thoſe
remarkable paſſages which might have been
expected from them ; and indeed of leveral,
that, I believe, do more than anſwer your ex-
pectations, as they were not ſubjects, in their
own nature, ſo expofed to public notoriety.
It cannot be expected they ſhould mention
paticulars. which were tranſacted amongſt the
Ciſciples only, or among ſome few even of the
diſciples themſelves, ſuch as the transfigura.
tion, the agony in the garden, the appearence
of Chriſt after his reſurrection, and others of
the like nature. It was impoſible for a Hea.
then author to relate thefe things; becauſe, if
he had believed them, he would no longer
have been a Heathen, and by that means his
teſtimony would not have been thought of
fo much validity. Beſides, his very report
of facts, fo favourable to Chriſtianity, would
have prompted men to fay that he was pro-
bably tainted with their doctrine. We have
a parallel cafe in Hecatæus, a famous Greek
hiſtorian, who had ſeveral paſſages in his
book conformable to the hiſtory of the Jew.
iſh writers, which, when quoted by Joſephus,
as a confirmation of the Jewiſh hiſtory, when
his Heathen adverſaries could give no other
anſwer to it, they would need ſuppoſe that
Hecatæus was a Jew in his heart, though
they had no other reaſon for it, but becauſe
his hiſtory gave greater authority to the Jewa
iſh than the Egyptian records.


CHRISTIAN RELIGION.
41
SECT. III.
I. Introduction to a ſecond litt of Pagan authors, who
give teſtimony of our Saviour.
II. A paſlage concerning our Saviour from a learned
Athenian,
III. His Converſion from Paganiſm to Chriſtianity makes
his evidence itronger than it he had continued a Pagan.
IV. Of another Athenian philoſopher converted to Chrif.
tianity.
V. Why their converſion, inſtead of weakening, firength,
ens their evidence in defence of Chriſtianity.
VI. Their belief in our Saviour's hiſtory founded at
firit upon the principles of hiſtorical faith.
VII. Their teſtimonies extended to all the particulars of
our Saviour's hiſtory,. .
VIII. As related by the four Evangeliſts:.
TO this liſt of Heathen writers, who
I.
I make mention of our Saviour, or
touch upon any particulars of his life, I fhall
add thoſe authors who were at firſt Heathens,
and afterwards converted to Chriſtianity;
upon which account, as I ſhall here ſhew,
their teſtimonies are to be looked upon as the
more authentic. And, in this liſt of eviden-
ces, I fhail confine myſelf to ſuch learned
Pagans as came over to Chriſtianity in the
three firſt centuries, becauſe thoſe were the
times in which men had the beſt means of
informing themſelves of the truth of our
Şaviour's hiſtory; and becauſe, among the
great number of philofophers who came in
afterwards, under the reigns of Chriſtian em
perors, there might be ſeveral of them who
did it partly out of worldly motives.
II. Let us now ſuppoſe that a learned Hea.
then writer, who lived within fixty years of
D2


EVIDENCES OF THE
our Saviour's crucifixion, after having ſhewn.
that falfe miracles were generally wrought in
obſcurity, and before few or no wineffes,
ſpeaking of thoſe which were wrought by
our Saviour, has the following paſſage.
“ But his works were always feen, becauſe
they were true; they were ſeen by thoſe who
were healed, and by thoſe who were raiſed
from the dead. Nay, theſe perſons who
were thus healed, and raiſed, were feen not
only at the time of their being healed and
raiſed, but long afterwards. Nay, they were
feen not only all the while our Saviour was
upon earth, but ſurvived after his departure
out of this world ; nay, ſome of them were
living in our days."
III. I dare ſay you would look upon this
as a glorious atteſtation for the cauſe of Chrif:
tianity, had it come from the hand of a fa.
mous Athenian philoſopher. Theſe foremen.
tioned words, however, are actually the
words of one who lived about fixty years af.
ter our Saviour's crucifixion, and was a fa-
mous philoſopher in Athens. But it will be
faid he was a convert to Chriſtianity: now
conſider this matter impartially, and fee if
his teſtimony is not much more valid for that
reaſon. Had he continued a Pagan philofo.
pher, would not the world have it ſaid that
he was not ſincere in what he writ, or did
not believe it; for if ſo, would not they have
told us he would have embraced Chriſtianity?
This was indeed the caſe of this excellent
man ; he had fo thoroughly examined the


CHRISTIAN RELIGION.
truth of our Saviour's hiſtory, and the excel.
lency of that religion which he taught, and
was ſo entirely convinced of both, that he
became a profelyte and died a martyr.
IV. Ariſtides was an Athenian philofopher,
at the ſame time famed for his learning and
wiſdom, but converted to Chriſtianity. As.
it cannot be queſtioned that he peruſed and
approved the apology of Quadratus, in which
is the paſſage juſt now cited, he joined with
him in an apology of his own to the ſame
emperor on the ſame ſubject. This apology,
though now loft, was extant in the time of
Ado. Vineſis, A. D. 870, and highly eſteem
ed by the moſt learned Athenians, as that au.
thor witneffes. It muſt have contained great
arguments for the truth of our Saviour's hif-
tory, becaufe in it he afferted the divinity of
our Saviour which could not but engage him
in the proof of his miracles.
V. I do allow, that generally ſpeaking, a
man is not ſo acceptable and unqueſtioned
an evidence, in facts which make for the ad-
vancement of his own party. But we muſt
conſider, that, in the caſe before us, the per:
fons to whom we appeal were of an oppoſite
party, till they were perſuaded of the truth
of thofe very facts which they report. They
bear evidence to a hiſtory in defence of
Chriſtianity ; the truth of which hiſtory was
their motive to embrace Chriſtianity. They
atteſt facts which they had heard while they
were yet Heathens, and had they not found
reaſon to believe them, they would have ſtill


EVIDENCES OF THE
continued Heathens, and have made no meni
tion of them in their writings.
VI. When a man is born under Chriſtian
parents, and trained up in the profeſſion of
that religion from a child, he generally guides
himſelf by the rules of Chriſtian faith, in be-
lieving what is delivered by the evangeliſts ;
but the learned Pagans of antiquity, before
they became Chriſtians, were only guided by
the common rules of hiſtorical faith; that is,
they examined the nature of the evidence
which was to be met with in common fame,
traditions, and the writings of thoſe perſons
who related them, together with the num.
ber, concurrence, veracity, and private char;
acters of thoſe perſons ; and being convinc-
ed upon all accounts that they had the fame
reafon to believe the hiſtory of our Saviour,
as that of any other perſon to which they
themſelves were not actually eye witneſſes,
they were bound, by all the rules of hiſtorical
faith, and of right reaſon, to give credit to
this hiſtory. This they did accordingly, and
in confequence of it publiſhed the ſame truths
themſelves, ſuffered many affictions, and
very often death itſelf in the aſſertion of
them. When I ſay, that an hiſtorical belief
of the acts of our Saviour induced theſe
learned Pagans to embrace his doctrine, I do
not deny that there were many other mo.
tives which conduced to it, as the excellency
of his precepts, the fulfiling of prophecies,
the miracles of his diſciples, the irreproacha.
ble lives and inagnanimous ſufferings of their


CHRISTIAN RELIGION.
followers, with other conſiderations of the
fame nature; but whatever other collateral
arguments wrought more or leſs with phi.
loſophers of that age, it is certain, that a belief
in the hiſtory of our Saviour was one motive
with every new convert, and that upon
which all others turned, as being the very
baſis and foundation of Chriſtianity.
VII. To this I muſt further add, that as we
have already ſeen many particular facts which
are recorded in holy writ, atteſted by partic-
ular Pagan authors, the teſtimony of thoſe I
am now going to produce, extends to the
whole hiſtory of our Saviour, and to that
continued ſeries of actions which are related
of him and his diſciples in the books of the
New Teſtament.
VIII. This evidently appears from their
quotations out of the evangelists, for the con.
firmation of any doctrine or account of our
bleſſed Saviour. Nay, a learned man of our
nation, who examined the writings of our
moſt ancient fathers in another view, refers
to ſeveral paſſages in Irenæus, Tertullian,
Clements of Alexandria, Origen, and Cypri.
an ; by which he plainly ſhews that each of
theſe early writers aſcribed to the four evan.
gelifts by name, their reſpective hiſtories;
ſo that there is not the leaſt room for doubt.
ing of their belief in the hiſtory of our Sav.
iour as recorded in the goſpels. I ſhall only
add, that three of the five fathers here men.
tioned, and probably four, were Pagans con
verted to Chriſtianity, as they were all of
,


EVIDENCES OF THE
them very inquifitive and deep in the know
ledge of Heathen learning and philofopy.
SECT. IV.
I. Character of the times in which the Chriſtiaa religion
was propagated.
II. And of many who embraced it:
HL. Three eminent and early intances:
IV. Multitudes of learned men who came over to it.
V. Belief in our Saviour's hiſtory the fi:it motive to their
converſion
VI. The names of ſeveral Pagan philoſophers who were
• Chriſtian convercs.
TT happened very providentially, to the
to honour of the Chriſtian religion, thar it
did not take its riſe in the dark illiterate ages
of the world, but at a time when arts and
fciences were at their height, and when there
were men who made it the buſineſs of their
lives to ſearch after truth, and fift the fever-
al opinions of philoſophers and wiſe men,
concerning the duty, the end, and chief hapa
pineſs of reaſonable creatures.
II. Several of theſe, therefore, when they
had informed themſelves of our Saviour's.
hiſtory, and examined, with unprejudiced
minds, the doctrines and manners of his dif.
ciples and followers, were ſo ſtruck and con.
vinced, that they profefied themſelves of that
fect; notwithſtanding, by this profeſſion, in
that juncture of time, they bid farewell to all


CHRISTIAN RELIGION.
47
the pleaſures of this life, renounced all the
views of ambition, engaged in an uninter.
rupted courſe of feverities, and expoſed them-
felves to public hatred and contempt, to fuf.
ferings of all kinds, and to death itſelf.
III. Of this ſort we may reckon thoſe three
early converts to Chriſtianity, who each of
them was a member of a fenate famous for
its wiſdom and learning. Joferh the Arima-
thean was of the Jewiſh fanhedrim, Dionyfius
of the Athenian, Areopagus, and Flavius
Clemens, of the Roman fenate ; nay, at the
time of his death, conful of Rome. Theſe
three were ſo thoroughly ſatisfied of the truth
of the Chriftian religion, that the firſt of them,
according to all the reports of antiquity, died
a martyr for it ; as did the ſecond, unleſs we
biſbelieve Ariſtides, his fellow citizen and
contemporary ; and the third, as we are in-
formed both by Roman and Chriſtian ali-
thors.
IV. Among thoſe innumerable multitudes,
who, in moſt of the known nations of the
world, came over to Chriſtianity at its firſt
appearance, we may be ſure there were great
numbers of wiſe and learned men, beſides
thoſe whoſe names are in the Chriſtian re-
cords, who, without doubt, took care to ex-
amine the truth of our Saviour's hiſtory be.
fore they would leave the religion of their
country, and of their forefathers, for the fake
of one that would not only cut them off from
the allurements of this world, but ſubject
them to every thing terrible or diſagreeable


EVIDENCES OF THE
in it. Tertullian tells the Roman governors,
that their corporations, councils, armies,
tribes, companies, the palace, fenate, and
courts of judicature, were filled with Chrif.
tians; as Arnobius afſerts, that men of the
fineſt parts and learning, orators, grainma-
rians, rhetoricians, lawyers, phyſicians, phi-
loſophers, deſpiſing the ſentiments they had
been once ford of, took up their reſt in the
Chriſtian religion.
. V. Who can imagine that men of this char.
acter did not thoroughly inform themſelves
of the hiſtory of that perſon whoſe doctrines
they embraced ? For however conſonant to
reaſon his precepts appeared, how good foev.
er were the effects which they produced in
the world, nothing could have tempted men
to acknowledge him as their God and Sav.
iour, but their being firmly perſuaded of the
miracles he wrought, and the many attefta-
tions of his divine miſſion, which were to be
met with in the hiſtory of his life. This was
the ground work of the Chriſtian religion ;
and, if this failed, the whole ſuperſtructure
funk with it. This point, therefore, of the
truth of our Saviour's hiſtory, as reckoned
by the evangeliſts, is every where taken for
granted in the writings of thoſe who, from
Pagan philoſophers, became Chriſtian authors,
and who, by reaſon of their converſion, are
to be looked upon as of the ſtrongeſt collat-
eral teſtimony for the truth of what is delive
ered concerning our Saviour.
VI. Beſides innumerable authors that are


CHRISTIAN RELIGION.
49
kſt, we have the undoubted names, works,
or fragments of ſeveral Pagan philoſophers,
which ſhew them to have been as learned as
any unconverted Heathen authors of the age
in which they lived. If we look into the
greateſt nurſeries of learning in thoſe ages of
the world, we find in Athens, Dionyſius,
Quadratus, Ariſtides, Athenagoras; and in
Alexandria, Dionyfius Clements, Ammonius,
and Anatolius, to whom we may add Ori.
gen; for though his father was a Chriſtian
martyr, he became, without all controverſy,
the moſt learned and able philoſopher of his
age, by his education at Alexandria, in that
famous ſeminary of arts and ſciences.
SECT. V.
1. The learned Pagans had means and opportunities of
informing themſelves of the truth of our Saviour's hiſ.
tory.
II. From the proceedings,
III. The characters, ſufferings,
IV. And miracles of the perſons who publiſhed it.
V. How theſe firſt apoſtles perpetuated their tradition, by
ordaining perſons to ſucceed them.
VI. How their ſucceſſors in the three firit centuries pie.
ſerved their tradition.
VII. That five generations might derive this tradition from
Chriſt, to the end of the third century
VIII. Four eminent Chrillians that delivered it down
ſucceſſively to the year of our Lord 254.
IX. The faith of the four above-mentioned perſons the


EVIDENCES OF THE
fame with that of the churches of the eaſt, of the welt,
and of Egypt.
X. Another perfun added to them, who brings us to the
year 343, and that many other lifts might be added in
as direct and ſhort a fucceffion.
XI. Why the tradition of the three firſt centuries, was
more authentic than that of any other age, proved hom
the converſation of the primitive Chriſtians
XII. From the manner of iniciating men into their reli.
gion.
XI. From the correſpondence between the churches.
XIV. From the long lives of ſeveral of Chriſt's diſciples,
of which two are instances.
TT now therefore only remains to confi-
to | der, whether theſe learned men had
means and opportunities of informing them.
felves of the truth of our Saviour's hiſtory ;
for unleſs this point can be made out, their
teftimonies will appear invalid, and their in.
quiries ineffectual.
II. As to this point, we muſt conſider, that
many thouſands had ſeen the tranſactions of
our Saviour in Judah ; and that many hun.
dred thouſands had received an account of
them from the mouths of thoſe who were
actually eye-witneffes. I ſhall only mention
among theſe eye-witneſſes, the twelve apof.
tles, to whom we muſt add St. Paul, who
had a particular call to this high office, tho'
many other diſciples and followers of Chriſt
had alſo their thare in the publiſhing this
wonderful hiſtory. We learn from the an.
cient records of Chriſtianity, that many of
the apoſtles and diſciples made it the expreſs
buſin ſs of their lives, travelled into the re-
moteft parts of the world, and in all places


CHRISTIAN RELIGION.
gathered multitudes about them, to acquaint
them with the hiſtory and doctrines of their
crucified Mafter. And indeed, were all chrif.
tian records of theſe proceedings intirely loſt,
as many have been, the effect plainly evinces
the truth of them ; for how elſe, during the
apoſtles' lives could Chriſtianity have ſpread
itſelf with ſuch an amazing progreſs through
the ſeveral nations of the Roman empire ?.
how could it fly like lightning, and carry
conviction wită it from one end of the earth
to the other?
III. Heathens therefore of every age, ſex,
and quality, born in the inoft different cli-
inates, and bred up under the moſt different
inſtitutions, when they ſaw men of, plain
fenſe, without the help of learning, arined
with patience and courage, inſtead of wealth,
pomp, or power, expreſſing in their lives
thoſe excellent doctrines of morality, which
they taught as delivered to them from our
Saviour, avering that they had ſeen his mira.
cles during his life, and converſed with him
after his death : when, 1 fay, they ſaw no
fufpicion of falfhood, treachery, or worldly
intereſt in their behaviour and converſation,
and that they ſubmitted to the moſt igno.
minious and cruel deaths, rather than retract
their teſtimony; or even be ſilent in matters
which they were to publiſh by our Saviour's
eſpecial command, there was no reaſon to
doubt of the veracity of thoſe facts which
they related, er of the divine miſſion in
which they were employed.


52 EVIDENCES OF THE
IV. But even thoſe motives to faith in our
Saviour would not have been ſufficient to
have brought about, in fo few years, ſuch an
incredible number of converſions, had not
the apoſtles been able to exhibit ſtill greater
proofs of the truths which they taught. A
few perſons of an odious and defpifed coun.
try could not have filled the world with be-
lievers, had they not ſhown undoubted cre-
dentials from the divine perſon who fent them
on ſuch a meſſage. Accordingly we are af.
ſured that they were inveſted with the pow.
er of working miracles, which was the inoft
ſhort and the moſt convincing arguinent that
could be produced, and the only one that
was adapted to the reaſon of all mankind, to
the capacities of the wife and ignorant, could
overcome every cavil, and every prejudice.
Who would not believe that our Saviour heale
od the ſick, and raiſed the dead, when it was
published by thoſe who themſelves often did
the ſame iniracles, in their preſence, and in
his name? Could any reaſonable perſon ima.
gine that God Almighty would arm men
with ſuch powers to authoriſe a lie, and ef.
tabliſh a religion in the world, which was dif,
pleaſing to him, or that evil ſpirits would
lend tliem ſuch an effectual aſliſtance to beat
down vice and idolatry ?
V. When the apoſtles had formed many aſ.
ſemblies in ſeveral parts of the Pagan world,
who gave credit to the glad tidings of the gof.
pel, that, upon their departure, the memory
of what they had related might not periſh,


CHRISTIAN RELIGION. 53
they appointed out of theſe new converts men
of the beſt ſenſe and of the moſt unblemiſhed
lives to preſide over theſe ſeveral aſſemblies,
and to inculcate, without ceaſing, what they
had heard from the inouths of theſe eye wit,
neſſes. -
VI. Upon the death of any of theſe ſub-
ſtitutes to the apoſtles and diſciples of Chriſt,
his place was filled up with ſome other perſon
of eminence for his piety and learning, and
generally a member of the fame church, who,
after his deceaſe, was followed by another in
the fame manner ; by which means the fuc-
cefſion was continued in an uninterrupted
line. Irenæus informs us, that every church
preſerved a catalogue of its biſhops in the or.
der that they ſucceeded one another, and (for
an example) produces the catalogue of thoſe
who governed the church of Rome in that
character, which contains eight or nine per-
fons, though but at a very imall remove from
the times of the apoſtles.
Indeed the liſts of biſhops, which are come
down to us in other churches, are generally
filled with greater numbers than one would
expect. But the ſucceſſion was quick in the
three firſt centuries, becauſe the biſhop very
often ended in the martyr; for when a perſe-
cution aroſe in any place, the firſt fury of it
fell upon this order of holy inen, who abun.
dantly teſtified, by their deaths and ſufferings,
that they did not undertake theſes offices out
of any temporal views : that thy were ſincere
and ſatisfied in the belief of what they taught;


54
EVIDENCES OF THE
and that they firmly adhered to what they
had received from the apoſtles, as laying down
their lives in the lame hope, and upon the
fame principles. None can be ſuppoſed ſo ut.
terly regardleſs of their own happineſs as to
expire in torment, and hazard their eternity,
to ſupport any fables and inventions of their
own, or any forgeries of their predeceſſors,
who had preſided in the ſame church, and
which might have been eaſily detected by the
tradition of that particular church, as well as
by the concurring teſtimony of others. To
this purpoſe, I think it is very remarkable,
that there was not a ſingle martyr amongthoſe
many heretics who diſagreed with the apof-
tolical church, and introduced feveral wild
and abſurd notions into the doctrines of chrif.
tianity. They durft not ſtake their preſent
and future happineſs on their own chimerical
imaginations, and did not only fhun perſecu.
tion, but affirmed that it was unneceſſary for
their followers to bear their religion through
ſuch fiery trials.
VII. We may fairly reckon, that this firſt
age of apoſtles and diſciples, with that fecond
generation of many who were their immedi.
ate converts, extended itſelf to the iniddle of
the ſecond century; and ſeveral ci the third
generation from theſe laſt mentioned, which
was but the fifth from Christ, continued to
the end of the third century. Did we know
the ages and numbers of the members in eve.
ry particular church which was planted by
the apoſtles, I doubt not but in moſt of them
there mighę be found five perſons, who, in a


CHRISTIAN RELIGION.
55
continued ſeries, would reach through theſe
three centuries of years, that is, till the 265th
from the death of our Saviour.
VIII. Among the accounts of thoſe very
few out of innumerable multitudes, who had
embraced Chriſtianity, 'I ſhall ſingle out four
perfons eminent for their lives, their writings
and their ſufferings, that were ſucceſſively
contemporaries, and bring us down as far as
to the year of our Lord 254. St. John who
was the beloved difciple, and converſed the
moſt intimately with our Saviour, lived till
Anno Dom. 100. Polycarp, who was the
difciple of St. John, and had converſed with
others of the apoftles and diſciples of our
Lord, lived till Anno Dom. 167, though his
life was ſhortened by martyrdom. Irenæus,
who was the diſciple of Polycarp, and had
converſed with many of the immediate dif-
ciples of the apoſtles, lived, at the loweſt com-
putation of his age, till the year 202, when
he was likewife cut off by martyrdom, in
which year the great Origen was appointed
regent of the cathecaric ſchool at Alexandria ;
and as he was the rniracle of that age, for in-
duftry, learning, and philofophy, he was look.
ed on as the champion of Chriſtianity, till
the year 254, when, if he did not ſuffer mar.
tyrdom, as ſome think he did, he was cer.
tainly actuated by the ſpirit of it, as appears
in the whole courſe of his life and writings;
nay, he had often been put to the torture,
and had undergone trials worſe than death.
As he converſed with the moſt eminent Chrif


so
EVIDENCES OF THE
tians of his time in Egypt, and in the eaſt;
brought over multitudes both from hereſy
and heathaniſın, left behind him feveral diſci-
ples of great fame and learning, there is no
queſtion but there were conſiderable numbers
of thoſe who knew him, and had been his
bearers, ſcholars, or profelytes, that lived till
the end of the third century, and to the reign
of Conſtantine the Great."
IX. It is evident to thoſe who read the
lives and writings of Polycarp, Irenæus, and
Origen, that theſe three fathers believed the
accounts which are given of our Saviour in
the four evangeliſts, and had undoubted ar.
guments, that not only St. John, but many
others of our Saviour's difciples, publiſhed
the fame accounts of him. To which we
muſt ſubjoin this further remark, that what
was believed by theſe fathers on this ſubject,
was likewiſe the belief of the main body of
Chriſtians in thofe ſucceſſive ages when they
flouriſhed ; fince Polycarp cannot but be look-
ed upon, if we conſider the reſpect that was
paid him, as the repreſentative of the eaſtern
churches in this particular, Irenæus of the
weſtern upon the ſame account, and Origen
of thoſe eſtabliſhed in Egypt. '
X. To theſe I might add Paul the famous
hermit, who retired from the Decian perſe-
cution five or ſix years before Origen's death,
and lived till the year 343. I have only diſ-
covered one of thoſe channels by which the
hiſtory of our Saviour might be conveyed
pure and unadulterated through thoſe ſever-


CHRISTIAN RELIGION.
al ages that produced thoſe Pagan philofo.'
phers, whole teſtimonies I make uſe of for
the truth of our Saviour's hiſtory. Some
or other of theſe philoſophers came into the
Chriftian faith during its infancy, in the fev.
eral periods of theſe three firſt centuries,
when they had ſuch means of informing them.
ſelves in all the particulars of our Saviour's
hiſtory. I muſt further add, though I have
here only choſen this ſingle link of martyrs,
I might find out others among thoſe names
which are ſtill extant, that delivered down
this account of our Saviour in a fucceflive tra.
dition, till the whole Roman empire became
Chriſtians; as there is po queſtion but num.
leſs ſeries of witneſſes might follow one ano.
ther in the ſame order, and in as ſhort a chain,
and that perhaps in every ſingle church, had
the names and ages of the moſt eminent prim-
ative Chriſtians been tranſmited to us with
the like certainty.
XI. But to give this confideration more
force, we muſt take notice, that the tradition
of the firſt ages of Chriſtianity had ſeveral
circumſtances peculiar to it, which made it
more authentic than any other tradition in a.
ny other age of the world. The Chriſtains,
who carried their religion thro' ſo many gen-
eral and particular perfecutions, were inceff.
antly comforting and ſupporting one another,
with the example and hiſtory of our Saviour
and his apoſtles. It was the ſubject not only
of their folemn aſſemblies, but of their private
viſits and converſations. Our virgins, ſays


58 EVIDENCES OF THE
Tatian, who lived in the ſecond century,
ci diſcourfe over their diſtaffs on divine ſub-
jects.” Indeed, when religion was woven
into the civil government, and flouriſhed
under the protection of the emperors, men's
thoughts and diſcourſes were, as they are
now, full of fecular affairs; but in the three
firſt centuries of Chriſtianity, men who em.
braced this religion, had given up all their
intereſts in this world, and lived in a perpet-
ual preperation for the next, as not knowing
how ſoon they might be called to it; ſo that
they had little elſe to talk of, but the life and
doctrines of that divine perſon, which was
their hope, their encouragement, and glo-
ry. We cannot therefore imagine that there
was a ſingle perſon arrived at any degree of
age or confideration, who had not heard
and repeated, above a thouſand times in his
life, all the particulars of our Saviour's birth,
life, death, reſurrection, and aſcention.
XII. Efpecially if we conſider that they
could not then be received as Chriſtians
till they had undergone ſeveral examinations,
Perſons of riper years, who flocked daily into
the church during the three firſt centuries,
were obliged to paſs through many repeated
inſtructions, and give a ſtrict account of their
proficiency, before they were admitted to
baptifm. And as for thoſe who were born
of Chriſtian parents, and had been baptized
in their infancy, they were with the like care
prepared and diſciplined for confirmation,
which they could not arrive at, till they were


CHRISTIAN RELIGION.
59
found, upon examination, to have made a
fufficient progreis in the knowledge of Chriſ.
tianity.
XIII. We muit further obſerve, that there
was not only in thoſe times this religious con.
verſation among private Chriftians, but a con.
ftant correſpondence between the churches
that were eſtabliſhed by the apoſtles or their
fucceffors in the ſeveral parts of the world. If
any new doctrine was ſtarted, or any fact report-
ed of our Saviour, a ſtrict enquiry was made a-
mong the churches, eſpecially thoſe planted by
the apoſtles themſelves, whether they had re-
ceived any ſuch doctrine or account of our Sa-
viour, from the mouths of the apoſtles, or
the tradition of thoſe Chriſtians who had
preceded the preſent members of the church.
es which were thus conſulted. By this
means, when any novelty was publiſhed, it
was immediately detected and cenſured.
XIV, St. John, who lived ſo many years
after our Saviour, was appealed to in theſe
emergencies as the living oracle of the
church ; and as his oral ceftimony laſted the
firſt century, many have obſerved, that, by a
particular providence of God, ſeveral of our
Saviour's diſciples, and of the early converts
of his religion, lived to a very great age, that
they inight perſonally convey the truth of
the goſpel to thoſe times, which were very
remote from the firſt publication of it. Of
theſe, beſides St. John, we have a remarkable
inſtance in Simeon, who was one of the fev.
enty fent forth, by our Saviour, to publiſh the


EVIDENCES OF THE
goſpel before his crucifixion, and a near king-
man of our Lord. This venerable perfon,
who had probably heard with his own ears
our Saviour's prophecy of the deſtruction of
Jeruſalem, preſided over the church eſtabliſh-
ed in that city, during the time of its mem-
orable ſiege, and drew his congregation out
of thoſe dreadfui and unparalelled calamities
which befel his countrymen, by following the
advice our Saviour had given, when they
ſhould ſee Jeruſalem encompaſſed with armies,
and the Roman ſtandards, or abomination of
deſolation, ſet up. He lived till the year of our
Lord 107, when he was martyred under the
emperor Trajan.
SECT. VI.
1. The tradition of the apoſtles ſecured by other excel.
lent inſtructions ;
II. But chiefly by the writings of the evangeliſts.
III. The diligence of the diſciples and first Chriſtian con-
verts to ſend abroad thele writings.
IV. That the written account of our Saviour was the
fame with that delivered by tradition ;
V. Proved from the reception of the goſpel by thoſe
churches which were eſtabliſhed before it was written.
VI. From the uniformity of what was believed in the feve
eral churches.
VII. From a remarkable paſſage in Irenæus.
VIII. Records which are now loſt of uſe to the three firſt
centuries, for confirming the hiſtory of our Saviour.
IX. Inſtances of ſuch records.
THUS far re ſee how the learned Pa.
gans might apprize themſelves, from
oral information, of the particulars of our


CHRISTIAN RELIGION.
61
Saviour's hiſtory. They could hear, in eve.
ry church planted in every diſtant part of the
earth, the account which was there received
and preſerved among them, of the hiſtory of
our Saviour. They could learn the names,
and characters of thoſe firſt miſſionaries that
brought to them theſe accounts and the mir.
acles by which God Almighty'atteſted their
reports. But the apoſtles and diſciples of
Chriſt, to preſerve the hiſtory of his life, and
to ſecure their accounts of him from error
and oblivion, did not only ſet aſide certain
perſons for that purpoſe, as has been already
ſhewn, but appropriated certain days to the
commemoration of thoſe facts which they
had related, concerning him. The firſt day
of the week was in all its returns a perpetual
memorial of his reſurrection as the devotion-
al exerciſes adapted to Friday and Saturday
were to denote to all ages that he was cruci..
fied on the one of thoſe days and that he reſt.
ed in the grave on the other. You may
apply the ſame remark to ſeveral of the an.
nual feſtivals inftituted by the apoſtles them.
ſelves, or at furthereſt by their immediate
fucceffors, in memory of the moſt important
particulars in our Saviour's hiſtory; to which
we muſt add the ſacraments inſtituted by our
Lord himſelf, and many of thoſe rites and
ceremonies which obtained in the moſt early
times of the church. Theſe are to be regard.
ed as ſtanding marks of ſuch facts as were
delivered by thoſe who were eye-witneſſes to
them, and which were contrived with great
F


62
EVIDENCES OF THE
but be vehree firſt chilitive Pagas being the
wiſdom to laft till time ſhould be no more.
Theſe, without any other means, might
have, in fome meaſure, conveyed to pofterity
the memory of ſeveral tranſactions in the
hiſtory of our Saviour, as they were related
by his diſciples. At leaſt, the reaſon of theſe
inftitutions, though they might be forgotten,
and obſcured by a long courſe of years, could
not but be very well known by thoſe who
lived in the three firſt centuries; and a means
of informing the inquiſitive Pagans in the
truth of our Saviour's hiſtory, that being the
view in which I am to confider them.
II. But left ſuch a tradition, though guard. ,
ed by ſo many expedients, ſhould wear out
by the length of time, the four evangelifts,
within above fifty, or, as Theodoret affirms,
thirty years after our Saviour's death, while
the memory of his actions was freſh among
them, conſigned to writing that hiſtory,
which for ſome years had been publiſhed
only by the mouths of the apoſtles and diſ.
ciples. The further confideration of thefe
holy penmen will fall under another part of
this diſcourſe.
III. It will be ſufficient to obſerve here,
that in the age which ſucceeded the apoſtles,
many of their immediate difciples fent or car-
ried in perfon the books of the four evangel-
ifts, which had been written by the apoſtles,
or at leaſt approved by them, to moſt of the
churches which they had planted in the dif-
>ferent parts of the world. This was done
with ſo much diligence, that when Pantænus,


6*
EVIDENCES OF THE
VI. Accordingly we find the ſame Jeſus
Chriſt, who was born of a virgin, who had
wrought many miracles in Paleſtine, who
was crucified, roſe again, and aſcended into
heaven : I ſay, the ſame Jeſus Chriſt had been
preached, and was worſhipped, in Germany,
France, Spain, and Great Britain ; in Par.
thia, Media, Meſopotamia, Armenia, Phryg.
ia, Aſia, and Pamphylia ; in Italy, Egypt, Af.
ric, and beyond Cyrene, India, and Perfia ;
and, in ſhort, in all the iſlands and provinces
that are viſited by the riſing or the ſetting
fun. The ſame account of our Saviour's life
and doctrine was delivered by thoufands of
preachers, and believed in thouſands of places,
who all, as faſt as it could be conveyed to
.them, received the ſame account in writing
from the four evangeliſts.
VII. Irenæus to this purpoſe very aptly re-
marks, that thoſe barbarous nations, who in
his time were not poſſeſſed of the written gof.
pels, and had only learned the hiſtory of our
Saviour from thoſe who had converted them
to Chriſtianity before the goſpels were writ-
ten, had among them the ſame accounts of
our Saviour which are to be met with in the
four evangeliſts : an inconteftible proof of the
harmony and concurrence between the holy
ſcripture and the tradition of the churches in
thofe early times of Chriſtianity.
VIII. Thus we fee what opportunities the
learned and inquiſitive Heathens had of in.
forming themſelves of the truth of our Sav,
iour's hiſtory during the three firſt centuries,


CHRISTIAN RELIGION.
65
eſpecially as they lay nearer one than another
to the fountain-head : beſide which, there
were many uncontroverted traditions, re-
cords of Chriſtianity, and particular hiſtories,
that then thew light into thoſe matters, but
are now entirely loft, by which, at that time,
any appearance of contradiction, of ſeeming
difficulties, in the hiſtory of the evangeliſts,
were fully cleared up and explained ; though
we meet with fewer appearances of this na-
ture in the hiſtory of our Saviour, as related
by the four evangelifts, than in the accounts
of any other perſon, publiſhed by ſuch a num-
ber of different hiſtorians, who lived at ſo
great a dittance from the preſent age.
- IX. Among thoſe records which are loft,
and were of great uſe to the primitive Chriſt.
ians, is the letter to Tiberius, which I have al.
ready mentioned ; that of Marcus Aurelius,
which I ſhall take notice of hereafter ; the
writings of Hegefippus, who had drawn
down the hiſtory of Chriſtianity to his own
time, which was not beyond the middle of
the ſecond century ; the genuine Sybilline
oracles, which, in the firſt age of the church,
were eaſily diftinguiſhed from the fpurious :
the records preſerved in particular churches,
with many others of the fame nature.


EVIDENCES OF THE
SECT. VII. -
I. The ſight of miracles in thoſe ages, a further confirma-
tion of Pagan philoſophers in the Chriſtian faith.
II. The credibility of ſuch miracles.
III. A particular inſtance.
IV. Martyrdom, why confidered as a ſtanding miracle.
V. Primitive Chriſtians thought many of the martyrs were
ſupported by a miraculous power.
VI. Proved from the nature of their ſufferings.
VII. How martyrs further induced the Pagans to em-
brace Chriſtianity.
I T HERE were other means which I find.
had a great influence on the learned
of the three firſt centuries, to create and con-
firm in them the belief of our bleſſed Sav.
iour's hiſtory, which ought not to be paſſed
over in filence. The firſt was, the opportu.
nity they enjoyed of examing thoſe miracles,
which were on ſeveral occaſions performed
by Chriſtians, and appeared in the church,
more orleſs during theſe firſt ages of Chriſtian-
ity. Theſe had great weight with the men
I am now ſpeaking of, who, from learned
Pagans, becaine fathers of the church ; for
they frequently boaſt of them in their wric.
ings, as atteſtations given by God himfelf to
the truth of their religion. ..
II. At the ſame time that theſe learned
men declare how difingenuous, bafe, and
wicked it would be, how much beneath the
dignity of philoſophy, and contrary to the
precepts of Chriſtianity, to utter falſehoods
or forgeries in the ſupport of a cauſe, though
never fo juft in itſelf, they confidently affert
this miraculous power which then ſublifted


CHRISTIAN RELIGION.
in the church ; nay, tell us, that themſelves
had been eye witneſſes of it at ſeveral
times, and in ſeveral inſtances' ; nay, ap-
peal to the Heathens themſelves for the truth
of ſeveral facts they relate ; nay, challenge
them to be preſent at their aſſemblies, and
ſatisfy themſelves if they doubt of it ; nay,
we find that Pagan authors have in ſome in.
ftances confeſſed this miraculous power.
III. The leiter of Marcus Aurelius, whoſe
army was preſerved by a refreſhing ſhower,
, at the ſame time that his enemies were dif.
comfited by a ſtorm of lightning, and which
the Heathen hiſtorians themſelves allow to
have been ſupernatural, and the effect of mag-
ic ; I ſay, this letter, which aſcribed this un.
expected aflittance to the prayers of the Chrif.
tians, who then ſerved in the army, would
have been thought, an unqueſtionable teſti.
mony of the miraculous power I am ſpeaking
of, had it been ſtill preſerved. It is fufficient
for me in this place to take notice, that this
was one of thoſe miracles which had its in.
fluence on the learned converts, becauſe it is
related by Tertullian, and the very letter ap-
pealed to. When their learned men law
ſickneſs and frenzy cured, the dead raiſed,
the oracles put to filence, the demons and e.
vil ſpirits forced to confeſs themſelves no
gods, by perſons who only made uſe of pray-
er and adjurations in the name of their cru.
cified Saviour, how could they doubt of their
Saviour's power on the like occaſions, as re.
preſented to them by the traditions of the
church, and the writings of the evangeliſts ? -


68
.
EVIDENCES OF THE 1
IV. Under this head, I cannot omit that
which appears to me a ſtanding miracle in
the three firft centuries ; I mean, that amaz.
ing and ſupernatural courage or patience
which was thewn by innumerable multitudes
of martyrs, in thoſe flow and painful torments
that were inflicted on them. I cannot con-
ceive a man placed in the burning iron chair
at Lyons, amid the inſults and mockeries of
a crowded amphitheatre, and ſtill keeping his
feat ; or ſtretched upon a gate of iron, over
coals of fire, and breathing out his ſoul a.
mong the exquiſite fufferings of ſuch a tedi.
ous execution, rather than renounce his reli.
gion or blafpheme his Saviour. Such trials
ſeem to me above the Itrength of human na.
ture, able to overbear duty, reaſon, faith, con,
viction, nay, and the moſt abſolute certainty
of a future ſtate. Humanity, unafliſted in an
extraordinary manner, muſt have ſhaken off
the preſent preſſure, and have delivered itſelf
out of ſuch a dreadful diſtreſs, by any means
that could have been ſuggeſted by it. We
can eaſily imagine, that many perſons, in ſo
good a cauſe, might have laid down their
lives at the gibbet, the ſtake, or the block;
but to expire leiſurely among the moſt .ex-
quiſite tortures, when they might come out
of them, even by a mental reſervation, or an
hypocriſy, which was not without a poſſibility
of being followed by repentance, and forgive.
neſs, has ſomething in it fo far beyond the
force and natural frength of mortals, that
one cannot but think there was ſome miracs
ulous power to ſupport the ſufferer.


CHRISTIAN RELIGION.
V. We find the church of Smyrna, in that
admirable letter, which gives an account of
the death of Polycarp, their beloved biſhop,
mentioning the cruel torments of other early
martyrs for Chriſtianity, are of opinion that
our Saviour ſtood by them in a viſion, and
perſonally converſed with them, to give them
ſtrength and comfort during the bitterneſs
of their long.continued agonies : and we have
the ſtory of a young man, who, having ſuffer-
ed many tortures, eſcaped with life, and told
his fellow-Chriſtians that the pain of them
had been rendered tolerable, by the preſence
of an angel who ſtood by him, and wiped off
the tears and ſweat which ran down his face
whilft he lay under his ſufferings. We are
aſſured at leaſt that the firſt martyr for Chrif.
tianity was encouraged in his laſt moments,
by a viſion of that divine perſon for whom
he ſuffered, and into whole preſence he was
then haſtening.
VI. Let any man calmly lay his hand upon
his heart, and, after reading theſe terrible
conflicts in which the ancient martyrs and
confeſſors were engaged, when they paſſed
through ſuch new inventions and varieties
of pain as tired their tormentors, and alk
himſelf, however zealous and ſincere he is
in his religion, whether, under ſuch acute and
lingering tortures, he could ſtill have held faſt
his integrity, and have profeſſed his faith to
the laſt, without a ſupernatural aſſiſtance of
ſome kind or other. For my part, when I
conlider that it was not an unaccountable ob.


70
EVIDENCES OF THE
ſtincy in a ſingle man, or in any particular
ſet of men, in ſome extraordinary juncture ;
but that there were multitudes of each ſect,
of every age, of different countries and con.
ditions, who, for near 300 years together,
made this glorious confeſſion of their faith in
the midſt of tortures, and in the hour of
death ; I muſt conclude, that they were ei,
ther of another make from what men are at
preſent, or that they had fuch miraculous
ſupports as were peculiar to thoſe times of
Chriſtianity ; when without them the very
name of it might have been extinguiſhed.
.VII. It is certain that the deaths and ſuf.
ferings of the primitive Chriftains had a great
fhare in the converfion of thoſe learned Pa.
gans who lived in the ages of perſecution,
which, with ſome intervals and abatements,
Jafted near three hundred years after our Sa.
viour. Juſtin Martyr, Tertullian, Lactantius,
Arnobius, and others, tell us, that this firſt of
all alarıned their curioſity, rouſed their atten.
tion, and made them ſeriouſly inquiſitive in-
to the nature of that religion which could
endue the mind with ſo much ſtrength, and
overcome the fear of death, nay, raiſed an
earneſt deſire of it though it appeared in all
its terrors. This they found had not been
effected by all the doctrines of thoſe philoſo.
phers whom they had thoroughly ſtudied,
and who had been labouring at this great
point. The fight of theſe dying and tor-
mented martyrs engaged them to ſearch in.
to the hiſtory and doctrines of him for whom


CHRISTIAN RELIGION.
they ſuffered. The more they ſearched, the
more they were convinced ; till their con,
viction grew ſo ſtrong, they themfelves em.
braced the fame truths, and either actually
laid down their lives, or were always in
readineſs to do it, rather than depart from
them.
SECT. VIII.
1. The completion of our Saviour's Prophecies confirm.
ed Pagans in their belief of the goſpel.
11. Origen's obfervation on our Saviour's diſciples being
brought before kings and governors ;
III. On their being perſecuted for their religion ;
IV. On their preaching the gospel to all nations.
V. On the deſtruction of Jeruſalem, and ruin of the Jew-
iſh oeconomy.
VI. Theſe arguments ſtrengthened by what has happen-
ed lince Origen's time.
THE ſecond of theſe extraordinary
I means, of great uſe to the learned
and inquiſitive Pagans of the firſt three cen-
turies, for evincing the truth of the hiſtory
of our Saviour, was the completion of ſuch
prophecies as are recorded of him in the e-
vangelifts. They could not indeed form any
arguments from what he foretold, and was
fulfilled during his life, becauſe both the pro-
phecy and the completion were over before
they were publiſhed by the evangeliſts ;
though as Origen obſerves, what end could
there be in forging ſome of theſe prcdic-


72.
EVIDENCES OF THE
tions, as that of St. Peter's denying his
Mafter, and all his diſciples forſaking him
in the greateſt extremity, which reflects fo
much ſhame on the great apoſtle, and on
all his companions ? Nothing but a ſtrict
adherence to truth, and to matters of fact,
could have prompted the evangeliſts to re-
late a circumſtance ſo diſadvantageous to
their own reputation, as that father has well
obferved.
II. But to purſue his reflections on this
ſubject : There are predictions of our Saviour
recorded by the evangeliſts, which were not
completed till after their deaths, and had no
likelihood of being ſo, when they were pro-
nounced by our bleſſed Saviour. Such was
that wonderful notice he gave them, that
they ſhould be brought before governors,
and kings, for his fake, for a teſtimony againſt
them and the Gentiles, Mat. X. 28. with the
other like prophecies, by which he foretold
that his diſciples were to be perfecuted. Is
there any other doctrine in the world, ſays
this father, whoſe followers are puniſhed ?
can the enemies of Chriſt ſay, that he knew
his opinions were falſe and impious, and that
therefore he might well conjecture and foretel
what would be the treatment of thoſe perſons
who would embrace them ? Suppoſing his
doctrines were really ſuch, why ſhould this
be the conſequence ? What likelihood that
men ſhould be brought before kings and
governors for cpinions and tenets of any
kind, when this never happened even to the


CHRISTIAN RELIGION.
Epicuréans, who abſolutely denied a provi.
dence ; nor to the Peripatetics themſelves,
who laughed at the prayers and facrifices
which were made to the Divinity ? Are there -
any but the Chriſtians who, according to this
prediction of our Saviour, being brought be.
fore kings and governors for his fake, are
preſſed to their lateſt gaſp of breath, by their
reſpective judges, to renounce Chriſtianity,
and to procure their liberty and reſt, by of-
fering the ſame facrifices, and taking the ſame
oaths that others did ?
III. Conſider the time when our Saviour
pronounced thoſe words, Mat. x. 32. 33.
* Whofoever ſhall confeſs me before men,
him will I confeſs alſo before my Father who
is in heaven : but whoſoever ſhall deny me
before men, him will I alſo deny before my
Father who is in heaven.” Had you heard
him ſpeak after this manner, when as yet his
diſciples were under no ſuch trials, you would
certainly have ſaid within yourſelf, if theſe
ſpeeches of Jeſus are true, and if, according
to his prediction, governors and kings under-
take to ruin and deſtroy thoſe who ſhall pro.
feſs themſelves his diſciples, we will believe,
not only that he is a prophet, but that he has
received power from God ſufficient to pre-
ſerve and propagate his religion ; and that
he would never talk in ſuch a peremptory
and diſcouraging manner, were he not al-
ſured that he was able to ſubdue the moſt
powerful oppoſition, that could be made a-
gainſt the faith and doctrine which he taught.


74
EVIDENCES OF THE
IV. Who is not ſtruck with admiration,
when he repreſents to himſelf our Saviour at
that time foretelling, that his Goſpel ſhould be
preached in all the world, for a witneſs unto
all nations, or, as Origen, (who rather quotes
the ſenſe than the words) to ſerve for a con.
viction to kings, and people, when, at the
ſame time, he finds that his Goſpel has ac-
cordingly been preached to Greeks and Bar.
barians, to the learned and to the ignorant,
and that there is no quality or condition of
life able to exempt men from ſubmitting to
the doctrine of Chriſt ? As for us, ſays this
great author, in another part of his book a-
gainſt Celſus, “ When we ſee every day thoſe
events exactly accompliſhed which our Sav.
iour foretold at ſo great a diſtance ; that his
Goſpel is preached in all the world, Mat.
xxiv. 14. that his diſciples go and teach all
nations, Mat. xxviii. 19. and that thoſe who
have received his doctrine, are brought for
his fake before governors, and before kings,
Mat. x, 18. we are filled with admiration,
and our faith in him is confirmed more and
more. What clearer and ſtronger proofs
can Celſus aſk for the truth of what he
fpoke?”
V. Origen inſiſts likewiſe with great
ſtrength on that wonderful prediction of our
Saviour concerning the deſtruction of Jeru.
ſalem, pronounced at a time, as he obſerves,
when there was no likelihood nor appearance
of it. This has been taken notice ot, and in-
eulcated by ſo many others, that I íhall refer


CHRISTIAN RELIGION.
75
you to what this father has faid on the fub.
ject in the firſt book againft Celſus. And as
to the accomplihment of this remarkable
prophecy, I ſhall only obſerve, that whoever
reads the account given us by Jofephus, with.
out knowing his character, and compares it
with what our Saviour foretold, would think
the hiſtorian had been a Chriſtian, and that
he had nothing elſe in view but to adjuſt the
event to the prediction.
VI. I cannot quit this head without taking
notice, that Origen would ſtill have triumpli-
ed more in the foregoing arguments, had
he lived an age longer, to have ſeen the Ro-
man emperors, and all their governors and
provinces, ſubmitting themſelves to the Chriſ-
tian religion, and glorying in its profeſſion,
as ſo many kings and ſovereigns itiil place their
relation to Chriſt at the head of their titles.
How much greater confirmation of his
faith would he have received, had he fuen
our Saviour's prophecy ſtand good in the de-
ſtruction of the temple, and the diſſolution
of the Jewiſh economy, when Jews and Pa.
gans united all their endeavours, under Ju.
lian the apoſtate, to balie and fallify the pre-
diction ? The greit preparations that were
made for rebuilding the temple, with the
hurricane, earthquake, and eruptions of fire,
that deſtroyed the work, and terrified thoſe
einployed in the attempt from proceeding in
it, are related by many hiſtorians of the fame
age, and the ſubſtance of the ſtory teſtified
both by Pagan and Jewiſh writers, as Am.


76
EVIDENCES OF THE
inianus Marcellinus, and Zamath-David.
The learned Chryſtome, in a ſermon againſt
the Jews, tells them, this fact was then freſh
in the memories even of their young men ;
that it happened but twenty years ago, and
that it was atteſted by all the inhabitants of
Jeruſalem, where they might ſtill ſee the
marks of it in the rubifh of that work, from
which the Jews defifted in fo great a fright,
and which even Julian had not the courage
to carry on. This fact, which is in itſelf to
miraculous, and ſo indiſputable, brought over
inany of the Jews to Chriftianity, and ſhows
us, that after our Saviour's prophecy againſt
it, the temple could not be preſerved from
the plow paſſing over it by all the care of Ti.
tus, who would fain have prevented its def.
truction, and that inſtead of being re-edified
by Julian, all his endeavours towards it did
but ſtill more literaly accompliſh our Sa-
viour's prediction, that not one ſtone ſhould
be left upon another.
The ancient Chriſtians were ſo entirely
perſuaded of the force of our Saviour's pro.
phecy, and of the puniſhment which the Jews.
had drawn upon themſelves and upon their
children, for the treatment which the Mefli.
al had received at their hands, that they did
not doubt but they would always remain an
abandoned and defpiled people, an hifling
and an aſtoniſhment, among the nations, as
they are to this day. In ſhort that they had
loſt their peculiarity of being God's people,
which was now transferred to the body of


CHRISTIAN RELIGION.
77
Chriſtians, and which preſerved the church
of Chriſt among all the conflicts, difficulties,
and perſecutions, in which it was engaged,
as it had preſerved the Jewiſh government
and economy for ſo many ages, whilſt it had
the ſame truth and vital principle in it, not-
withſtanding it was ſo frequently in danger
of being utterly aboliſhed and deſtroyed.
Origen, in his fourth book againſt Celſus,
mentioning their being caſt out of Jeruſalem,
the place to which their worſhip was annex.
ed, deprived of their temple and ſacrifice,
their religious rites and folennities, and ſcat-
tered over the face of the earth, ventures to
aſſure them, with a face of confidence, that
they would never be re-eſtabliſhed ſince they
had committed that horrid crime againſt the
Saviour of the world. This was a bold af-
ſertion in the good man, who knew how
this people had been ſo wonderfully re-eſtab.
liſhed in former times, when they were al.
moſt ſwallowed up, and in the moſt deſperate
ſtate of deſolation, as in their deliverance out
of the Babyloniſh captivity, and the oppref,
ſions of Antiochus Epiphanes. Nay, he knew
that, within leſs than an hundred years before
his own time, the Jews had made ſuch a pow.
erful effort for their re-eſtabliſhment under
Barchocap, in the reign of Adrian, as ſhook
the whole Roman empire. But he founded
his opinion on a ſure word of prophecy, and
on the puniſhment they had ſo juſtly incur.
red ; and we find by a long experience of
1500 years, that he was not miſtaken, nay,
Ġ 2


EVIDENCES OF THE
that his opinion gathers ſtrength daily, ſince
the Jews are now at a greater diſtance from
any probability of ſuch a re-eſtabliſhment than
they were when Origen wrote.
SECT. IX.
1. The lives of primitive Chriſtians another means of
bringing learned Pagans into their religion.
11. The change and reformation of their manners.
II. This looked upon as ſupernatural by the learned
Pagans.
IV. And ſtrengthened the accounts gives of our Sav.
jour's life and hiſtory.
V. The Jewiſh prophecies of our Saviour an argument for
the Heatheos' belief :
VI. Purſued :
VII. Purſued.
TTTHERE was one other means enjoyed
ho by the learned Pagans of the three firſt
centuries, for ſatisfying them in the truth of
our Saviour's hiſtory which I might have
flung under one of the foregoing heads; but
as it is ſo ſhining a particular, and does fo
much honour to our religion, I ſhall make a
diſtinct article of it, and only conſider it
with regard to the ſubject I am upon : I
mean the lives and manners of thoſe holy men
who believed in Chriſt during the firſt ages
of Chriſtianity. I ſhould be thought to ad-
vance a paradox, ſhould I aflirm that there
were more Chriſtians in the world during


.80
EVIDENCES OF THE
he great change rate, as
III. It is not my buſineſs to be more pare
ticular in the accounts of primitive Chriſtian-
ity which have been exhibited ſo well by
others, but rather to obſerve, that the Pagan
converts, of whom I am now fpeaking, men.
tion this great reformation of choſe who had
been the greateſt ſinners, with that ſudden
and ſurpriſing change which it made in the
lives of the moſt profligate, as having fome.
thing in it fupernatural, miraculous, and
more than hunan. Origen repreſents this
power in the Chriſtian religion, as no leſs
wonderful than that of curing the lame and
blind, or cleanſing the leper. Many others
repreſented it in the ſame light, and looked
upon it as an argument, that there was a cer.
tain divinity in that religion which ſhowed
itſelf in ſuch ſtrange and glorious effects.
IV. This therefore was a great means not
only of recommending Chriftianity to hon.
eft and learned Heathens, but of confirming
them in the belief of our Saviour's hiſtory,
when they ſaw multitudes of virtuous men
daily forming themſelves upon his example,
animated by his precepts, and actuated by
that Spirit which he had promiſed to ſend a-
mong his diſciples.
V. But I find no argument made a ſtrong.
er impreſſion on the minds of theſe eminent
Pagan converts, for ſtrengenthing their faith
in the hiſtory of our Saviour, than the pre-
dictions relating to him in thoſe old prophetic
writings, which were depoſited among the
hands of the greateſt enemies to Chriſtianity,


CHRISTIAN RELIGION.
and owned by them to have been extant.
many ages before his appearance. The learn.
ed Heathen converts were aſtoniſhed to ſee
the whole hiſtory of their Saviour's life pube
liſhed before he was born, and to find that
the evangeliſts and prophets, in their ac.
counts of the Melliah, differed only in point
of tiine ; the one foretelling what ſhould hap.
pen to him, and the other deſcribing thoſe
very particulars as what had actually hap-
pened. This our Saviour himſelf was pleaſ,
ed to make uſe of as the ſtrongeſt argument
of his being the promiſed Meſſiah, and with.
out it would hardly have reconciled his diſ-
ciples to the ignominy of his death, as in that
remarkable paſſage which mentions his con-
verſation with the two diſciples on the day
of his reſurrection. St. Luke xxiv. 13. to
the end.
· VI. The Heathen converts, after having
travelled through all human learning, and
fortified their minds with the knowledge of
arts and ſciences, were particularly qualified
to examine theſe prophecies with great care
and impartiality, and without prejudice or
prepoffeffion. If the Jews, on the one ſide,
put an unnatural interpretation on theſe pro.
phecies, to evade the force of them in their
controverſies with the Chriſtians; or if the
Chriſtians, on the other ſide, overſtrained
ſeveral pallages in their applications of them,
as it often happens among men of the beſt
underſtanding, when their minds are heated
with any conſideration that bears a more than


82
EVIDENCES OF THE &c.
ordinary weight with it; the learned Heath-
ens may be looked upon as neuters in the
matter, when all theſe prophecies were new
to them, and their education had left the in-
terpretation of them free and indifferent.
Beſides, theſe learned men among the primi.
tive Chriſtians, knew how the Jews, who
had preceded our Saviour, interpreted theſe
predictions, and the ſeveral marks by which
they acknowledged the Meſſiah would be dif-
covered, and how thole of the Jewiſh doctors,
who ſucceeded him, had deviated from the
interpretations and doctrines of their forefa.
thers, on purpoſe to ſtifletheir own conviction.
VII. This ſet of arguments had therefore
an invincible force with thoſe Pagan philofo.
phers who became Chriftians, as we find in
moſt of their writings. They could not dif-
believe our Saviour's hiſtory, which ſo exact.
ly agreed with every thing that had been
written of him many ages before his birth,
por doubt of thoſe circumſtances being ful.
filed in him, which could not be true of any
perſon that lived in the world beſides himſelf.
This wrought the greateſt confuſion in the
unbelieving Jews, and the greateſt conviction
in the Gentiles, who every where ſpeak with
aſtonishment of theſe truths they met with
in this new magazine of learning which was
opened to them, and carry the point ſo far
as to think whatever excellent doctrine they
had met with among Pagan writers had been
ſtolen from their converſation with the Jews,
or from the peruſal of theſe writings which
they had in their cuſtody.


ADDITIONAL
DISCOURSES.
SECT. I.
OF GOD AND HIS ATTRIBUTES.
Qui mare et terras variifque mundum
Temperat boris :
Unde nil majus generatur ipſo,
Nec viget quicquam fimile aut fecundum.
Hor. Od. 12. Lib. I. V. 15.
Who guides below, and rules above,
The great Diſpoſer and the mighty King :
Than he pone greater, next him none,
That can be, is or was ;
Supreme he lingly fills the throne. CREECH.
DIMONIDES, being aſked by Dionyfius the
tyrant what God was, deſired a day's time
to conſider of it before he made his reply.
When the day was expired, he deſired two
days ; and afterwards, inſtead of returning
his anſwer, demanded ſtill double time to
conſider of it. This great poet and philoſo.
pher, the more he contemplated the nature
of the Deity, foundthat he waded but the inore
out of his depth ; and that he loft himſelf in
the thought, inſtead of finding an end of it.
If we conſider the idea which wiſe men, by
the light of reaſon, have framed of the Di.
vine Being, it amounts to this :-that he has in


84 OF GOD AND HIS ATTRIBUTES.
him all the perfection of a ſpiritual nature ;
and ſince we have no notion of any kind of
ſpiritual perfection but what we diſcover in
our own ſouls, we join infinitude to each kind
of theſe perfections, and what is a faculty, in
a human ſoul, becomes an attribute in God.
We exiſt in place and time, the Divine Be-
ing fills the immenſity of ſpace with his preſ.
ence, and inhabits eternity. We are pof.
ſeſſed of a little power and a little knowl.
edge, the Divine Being is almighty and om-
nicient. In ſhort, by adding infinity to any
kind of perfection we enjoy, and by joining
all theſe different kinds of perfections in one
being, we form our idea of the great Sove.
reign of nature.
Though every one who thinks muſt have
made this obfervation, I ſhall produce Mr.
Locke's authority to the fame purpoſe, out
of his eſſay on human underſtanding. « If
we examine the idea we have of the incom-
prehenſible Supreme Being, we ſhall find,
that we come by it the ſame way; and that
the complex ideås we have both of God and
ſeparate ſpirits are made up of the fimple ideas
we receive from reflection : v.g. from having,
by what we experience in ourſelves, got the i-
deas of exiſtence and duration, of knowledge
and power, of pleaſure and happineſs, and of
ſeveral other qualities and powers, which it
is better to have, than to be without ; when
we would frame an idea the moſt ſuitable we
can to the Supreme Being, we enlarge every
one of theſe with our idea of infinity; and


OF GOD, AND HIS ATTRIBUTES. 85
? loul, it is not marken of ſpiritual cer
fo, putting them together, make our complex
idea of God.”
It is not impoſſible that there may be ma-
ny kinds of fpiritual perfection, beſides thoſe
which are lodged in an human ſoul ; but it
is impoſſible that we ſhould have ideas of
any kinds of perfection, except thoſe of
which we have fome ſmall rays and ſhort
imperfect ſtrokes in ourſelves. It would be
therefore a very high preſumption to deter-
mine whether the Supreme Being has not
many more attributes than thoſe which enter
into our conceptions of him. This is cer.
tain, that if there be any kind of ſpiritual per.
fection which is not marked out in an hu-
man ſoul, it belongs, in its fullneſs, to the
Divine Nature.
Several eminent philoſophers have imagin.
ed that the foul, in her ſeparate ſitate, inay
have new faculties ſpringing up in her, which
he is not capable of exerting during her preſ.
ent union with the body ; and whether theſe
faculties may not correſpond with other attri.'
butes in the Divine Nature, and open to us
hereafter new matter of wonder and adora.
tion, we are altogether ignorant. This, as I
have ſaid before, we ought to acquieſce in,
that the Sovereign Being, the great author
of nature, has in him all poſſible perfection,
as well in kind as in degree; to ſpeak accorda
ing to our methods of conceiving. I fhall.
only add under this head, that when we
have raiſed our notion of this infinite Being
as high as it is poſible for the mind of man to.
H


86
OF GOD, AND
go, it will fall infinitely ſhort of what he re.
ally is. There is no end of his greatneſs ;
the moſt exalted creature he has made, is on-
ly capable of adoring it, none but himſelf
can comprehend it.
The advice of the ſon of Sirach is very
juſt and ſublime in this light. “By his word
all things conſiſt. We may ſpeak much, and
yet come ſhort: wherefore in ſum, he is all.
How ſhall we be able to magnify him ? For he
is great above all his works. The Lord is ter-
rible and very great ; and marvellous in his
power. When you glorify the Lord, exalt
him as much as you can ; for even yet will
he far exceed. And, when you exalt him,
put fourth all your ſtrength, and be not wea-
ry ; for you can never go far enough. Who
hath ſeen him, that he might tell us ? and
who can magnify him as he is ? There are
yet hid greater things than theſe be, for we
have ſeen but a few of his works.”
I have here only conſidered the Supreme
Being by the light of reaſon and philoſophy.
If we would ſee him in all the wonders of his
mercy, we muſt have recourſe to revelation,
which repreſents him to us, not only as in-
finitely great and glorious, but as infinitely
good and juſt in his diſpenſations towards
men. But as this is a theory which falls
under every one's conſideration, though
indeed it can never be ſufficiently conſidered,
I fall here only take notice of that habitual
worſhip and veneration which we ought to
pay to this Almighty Being. We ſhould of.


HIS ATTRIBUTES.
ten refreſh our minds with the thought of him
and annihilate ourſelves before him in the
contemplation of our own worthleſſneſs, and
of his tranſcendent excellency and perfection.
This would imprint in our ininds ſuch a con.
ftant and uninterrupted awe and veneration
as that which I am here recommending, and
which is in reality a kind of inceſſant prayer,
and reaſonable humiliation of the foul before
him who made it.
This would effectually kill in us all the lit.
tle feeds of pride, vanity, and ſelf-conceit,
which are apt to ſhoot up in the minds of
ſuch whoſe thoughts turn more on thoſe
comparative advantages which they enjoy o.
ver ſome of their fellow-creatures, than on
that infinite diſtance which is placed between
them and the ſupreme model of all perfec-
tion. It would likewiſe quicken our deſires
and endeavours of uniting ourſelves to him
by all the acts of religion and virtue.
Such an habitual homage to the Supreme
Being would, in a particular manner, baniſh
from among us that prevailing impiety of
uſing his name on the moſt trivial occaſions.
I find the following paſſage in an excellent
ſermon, preached at the funeral of a gentle.
man, who was an honour to his country, and
a more diligent as well as ſucceſsful inquirer
into the works of nature than any other our
nation has ever produced. “He had the
profoundeft veneration for the great God of
heaven and earth that I have ever obſerved
in any perſon. The very name of God was
never mentioned by him without a pauſe,


83
OF GOD, AND
and a viſible ſtop in his diſcourſe ; in which,
one that knew him moſt particularly above
twenty years, has told me, that he was ſo
exact, that he does not remember to have
obſerved hiin once to fail in it.”
Every one knows the veneration which
was paid by the Jews to a name fo great, won-
derful, and holy. They would not let it enter
even in their religious diſcourſes. What can
we then think of thoſe who make uſe of fo
tremendous a name in the ordinary expreſ.
fions of their anger, mirth, and moſt imper.
tinent paſſions of thoſe who admit it into
the moſt familiar queſtions and aſſertions, lu-
dicrous phraſes, and works of humour ? not
to mention thoſe who violate it by folemn
perjuries. It would be an affront to reaſon
to endeavour to ſet forth the horror and
profaneneſs of ſuch a practice. The very
mention of it expoſes it fufficiently to thoſe
in whom the light of nature, not to ſay re-
ligion, is not utterly extinguiſhed. 0.
Deum namque ire per omnes,
Terraſque, tratiufque maris, calumque profundum.
Virg. Georg. 4. ver. 221.
For God the whole created maſs inſpires;
Through heaven, and earth, and ocean's depths he throws
His influence round, and kindles as he goes.
Dryden.
I WAS yeſterday, about fun-fet, walking in
the open field, till the night inſenſibly fell
upon me. I at firſt amuſed myſelf with all


HIS ATTRIBUTES.
the richneſs and variety of colours which ap.
peared in the weſtern part of the heaven : in
proportion as they faded away and went out,
feveral ſtars and planets appeared one after
another, till the whole firmament was in a
glow. The blueneſs of æther was exceeding.
ly heightened and enlivened by the ſeaſon of
the year, and by the rays of all thoſe lumin.
aries that paſſed through it. The Galaxy
appeared in its moſt beautiful white. To
complete the ſcene, the full moon roſe at
length in that clouded majeſty, which Mil-
ton takes notice of, and opened to the eye a
new picture of nature, which was more fine-
ly ſhaded and diſpoſed among fofter light
than that which the ſun had before diſcover-
ed to us.
As I was ſurveying the moon walking in
her brightneſs, and taking her progreſs among
the conſtellations, a thought roſe in me,
which I believe very often perplexes and dif.
turbs men of ſerious and contemplative na
tures. David himſelf fell into it in that re.
flection : “When I conſider thy heavens, the
work of thy fingers, the moon and the ſtars
which thou haſt ordained, what is man, that
thou art mindful of him ? and the ſon of
man, that thou viſiteſt him ?” In the ſame
manner, when I conſidered that infinite hoſt
of ſtars, or, to ſpeak more philofophically; of
funs, which were then ſhining upon me, with
thoſe innumerable ſets of planets or worlds.
which were moving round their reſpective
funs: when I ſtill enlarged the idea, and fupe
H 2


90
OF GOD, AND
poſed another heaven of ſuns and worlds ril
ing ſtill above this which we diſcovered, and
theſe ftill enlightened by a ſuperior firma.
ment of luminaries, which are planted at ſo
great a diſtance, that they may appear to the
inhabitants of the former as the ſtars do to
us : in ſhort, while I purſued this thought, I
could not but reflect on that little inſignifi.
cant figure which I myſelf bore amidſt the
immenſity of God's works.
Were the fun, which enlightens this part
of the creation, with all the hoſt of the plan.
etary worlds that move about him, utterly
extinguiſhed and annihilated, they would
not be miſſed more than a grain of ſand up-
on the ſea.fhore. The ſpace they poflefs is ſo
exceedingly little in compariſon of the
whole, that it would ſcarce make a blank in
the creation. The chafin would be imper.
ceptible to any eye that could take in the
whole compaſs of nature, and paſs from one
end of the creation to the other ; and it is
poſſible there may be ſuch a fenſe in our-
ſelves hereafter, or in creatures which are
at preſent more exalted than ourſelves. We
ſee many ſtars, by the help of glaſſes, which
we cannot diſcover with our naked cyes : and
the finer our teleſcopes are, the more, ſtill,
are our diſcoveries. Huygenius carries this
thought ſo far, that he does not think it im-
poffible there may be ſtars whoſe light has
not yet travelled down to us ſince their firſt
creation. There is no queſtion but the uni-
verſe has certain bounds ſet to it : but when


HIS ATTRIBUTES.
91
we conſider that it is the work of infinite
power, prompted by infinite goodneſs, with
an infinite ſpace to exert itſelf in, how can
our imagination ſet any bounds to it ?
To return therefore to my firſt thought, I
could not but look upon in yſelf with ſecret
horror, as a being that was not worth the
ſmalleſt regard of one who had ſo great a
work under his care and ſuperintendency.
I was afraid of being overlooked amidſt the
immenſity of nature, and loft among that in.
finite variety of creatures, which, in all prob.
ability, ſwarıs through all theſe imineafura-
ble regions of matter.
In order to recover myſelf from this mor-
tifying thought, I conſidered it took its riſe
from thoſe narrow conceptions which we are
apt to entertain of the divine nature. We
ourſelves cannot attend to many different ob.
jects at the ſame time. If we are careful to
inſpect fome things, we muſt of courſe neg.
lect others. This imperfection which we
obſerve in ourſelves is an imperfection
that cleaves in ſome degree to creatures of
the higheſt capacities, as they are creatures,
that is, beings of finite and limited natures.
The preſence of every created being is con-
fined to a certain meaſure of fpace, and con-
ſequently his obſervation is ſtinted to a cer-
tain number of objects. The ſphere in
which we move, and act, and underſtand, is
of a wider circumference to one creature than
another, according as we riſe one above an.
other in the ſcale of exiſtence. But the wi-
other in accordincence to on


OF GOD, AND
deſt of theſe our ſpheres has its circumfer
ence. When therefore we reflect on the di.
vine nature, we are lo uſed and accuſtomed
to this imperfection in ourſelves, that we can.
not forbear, in fomne meaſure, aſcribing it to
him in whom there is no ſhadow of imper.
fection. Our reaſon indeed aſſures us, that
his attributes are infinite ; but the poorneſs
of our conception is ſuch that it cannot for.
bear ſetting bounds to every thing it con-
templates, till our reaſon comes again to our
ſuccour, and throws down all thoſe little pre.
judices which ariſe in us unawares, and are
natural to the mind of man.
We ſhall therefore utterly extinguiſh this
melancholy thought of our being overlooked
by our Maker in the multiplicity of his
works, and the infinity of thoſe objects a.
mong which he ſeems to be inceffantly em.
ployed, if we conſider, in the firſt place, that
he is omnipreſent : and in the ſecond, that he
is omniſcient.
If we conſider him in his omnipreſence,
his being paſſes through, actuates and ſup.
ports the whole frame of nature. His crea.
tion, and every part of it, is full of him.
There is nothing he has made that is either
fo diſtant, fo little, or ſo inconſiderable, which
he does not eſſentially inhabit. His ſubſtance
is within the ſubſtance of every being, whe,
ther material or immaterial, and as intimate:
ly preſent to it as that being is to itſelf. It
would be an imperfection in him, were he a.
ble to remove out of one place into another,
by our Mahought of our beinstinguiſh this


HIS ATTRIBUTES.
93
or to withdraw himſelf from any thing he
has created, or from any part of that ſpace
which is diffuſed and ſpread abroad to infini-
ty. In ſhort, to ſpeak of him in the language
of the old philoſopher, he is a Being whoſe
centre is every where and his circumference
no where.
In the ſecond place, he is omniſcient as
well as omnipreſent. His omniſcience in.
deed neceſſarily and naturally flows from his
omnipreſence; he cannot but be conſcious of
every motion that ariſes in the whole materi.
al world, which he thus efſentially pervades,
and of every thought that is ſtirring in the
intellectual world, to every part of wbich he
is thus intimately united. Several moralifts
have conſidered the creation as the temple of
God, which he has built with his own hands,
and which is filled with his preſence. 0.
thers have conſidered infinite ſpace as the re-
ceptacle, or rather the habitation of the Al-
mighty. But the nobleſt and moſt exalted
way of conſidering this infinite ſpace, is that
of Sir Iſaac Newton, who calls it the cenſori.
um of the Godhead. Brutes and men have
their cenſoriola or little cenſoriums by which
they apprehend the preſence, and perceive
the actions of a few objects that lie contigu.
ous to them. Their knowledge and obſer.
vation turns within a very narrow circle.
But as God Almighty cannot but perceive
and know every thing in which he reſides,
infinite ſpace gives room to infinite knowl-
edge, and is as it were an organ to omniſ-
cience.


94
OF GOD, AND
Were the foul ſeparate from the body, and
with one glance of thought ſhould ſtart be-
yond the bounds of the creation, ſhould it
for millions of years continue its progreſs
through infinite ſpace with the ſame activity,
it would ſtill find itſelf within the embrace
of its creator, and encompaſled round with
the immenſity of the Godhead. While we
are in the body, he is not lefs preſent with us
becauſe he is concealed from us. “O that I
knew where I might find him!” ſays Job.
6 Behold, I go forward, but he is not there ;
and backward, but I cannot perceive him ; on
the left hand, where he does work, but I can.
not behold him ; he hideth himſelf on the
right hand that I cannot ſee him.” In ſhort,
reaſon, as well as revelation, aſſures us that he
cannot be abſent from us notwithſtanding he
is undiſcovered by us.
In this confideration of God Almighty's
omnipreſence and omniſcience, every uncom-
fortable thought vaniſhes. He cannot but
regard every thing that has being, eſpecially
ſuch of his creatures who fear they are not
regarded by him. He is privy to all their
thoughts, and to that anxiety of heart in par-
ticular, which is apt to trouble them on this
occaſion : for as it is impoſſible he ſhould o-
verlook any of his creatures, fo we may be
confident that he regards, with an eye of
mercy, thoſe who endeavour to recommend
themſelves to his notice, and, in an unfeigned
humility of heart, think themſelves unwor.
thy that he thould be mindful of them.
wht vanit has ber they are their


HIS ATTRIBUTES.
95
•
- Calum quid querimus ultra? Luc. lib. ix.
Than heav'n what further can we ſeek ?
IN your paper of Friday the 9th inſtant you
had occaſion to conſider the ubiquity of the
Godhead, and at the ſame time to fhew,
that as he is preſent to every thing, he cannot
but be attentive to every thing, and privy
to all the nudes and parts of its exiitence;
or, in other words, that his omniſcience and
omnipreſence are co-exiſtent, and run togeth-
er through the whole infinitude of ſpace.
This conſideration might furniſh us with
many incentives to devotion, and motives to
morality ; but as this ſubject has been hand.
led by ſeveral excellent writers, I ſhall con.
ſider it in a light wherein I have not ſeen it
placed by others.
Firſt, How diſconfolate is the condition of
an intellectual being, who is thus preſent
with his Maker, but at the ſame time receives
no extraordinary benefit or advantage from
this his preſence !
Secondly, How deplorable is the condition
of an intellectual being, who feels no other
effects from this his preſence but ſuch as pro-
ceed from divine wrath-and indignation ! .
Thirdly, How happy is the condition of
that intellectual being, who is ſenſible of his
Maker's preſence from the ſecret effects of
his mercy and loving kindneſs !
Firſt, How diſconfolate is the condition of
an intellectual being who is thus preſent with
his Maker, but at the ſame time receives no


HIS ATTRIBUTES.
97
pen our hearts to all thoſe infuſions of joy and
gladneſs which are ſo near at hand, and rea.
dy to be poured in upon us ; eſpecially when
we conſider, ſecondly, The deplorable condi.
tion of an intellectual being who feels no 0-
ther effects from his Maker's preſence, but
ſuch as proceed from divine wrath and in.
dignation !
We may aſſure ourſelves, that the great
Author of nature will not always be as one,
who is indifferent to any of his creatures.
Thoſe who will not feel him in his love, will
be ſure at length to feel him in his diſpleaf-
ure. And how dreadful is the condition of
that creature, who is only ſenſible of the be-
ing of his Creator, by what he ſuffers from
him! He is as eſſentially preſent in hell as in
heaven, but the inhabitants of the former
place behold him only in his wrath, and
Ihrink within the flames to conceal them.
ſelves from him. It is not in the power of
imagination to conceive the fearful effects of
omnipotence incenſed.
But I ſhall only conſider the wretchedneſs
of an intellectual being, who, in this life,
lies under the diſpleaſure of him, that, at all
times, and in all places, is intimately united
with him. He is able to difquiet the foul,
and vex it in all its faculties. He can hin.
der any of the greateſt comforts of life from
refreſhing us, and give an edge to every one
of its ſlighteſt calamities. Who then can:
bear the thought of being an out-caſt from
his preſence, that is, from the comforts of ir,


198
OF GOD, AND
or feeling it only in its terrors? How pao
thetic is that expoftulation of Job, when, for
the trial of his patience, he was made to look
upon himſelf in this deplorable condition !
“Why haft thou fet me as a mark againſt
thee, ſo that I am become a burden to my-
ſelf ?" But, thirdly, how happy is the condi-
tion of that intellectual being, who is ſenſible
of his Maker's preſence from the ſecret ef.
fects of his mercy and loving-kindneſs!
The blefled in heaven behold him face to
face ; that is, are as ſenſible of his preſence as
we are of the preſence of any perſon whom
we look upon with our eyes. There is
doubtleſs a faculty in ſpirits by which they
apprehend one another, as our ſenſes do ma.
terial objects; and there is no queſtion but our
fouls, when they are diſembodied or placed
in glorified bodies, will, by this faculty in
whatever part of ſpace they reſide, be always
ſenſible of the divine preſence. We who.
have this veil of fleſh ftanding between us
and the world of ſpirits, muſt be content to
know that the ſpirit of God is preſent with
us, by the effects which he produceth in us.
Our outward fentes are toogroſs to apprehend
him ; we may, however taſte and ſee how
gracious he is, by his influence upon our
minds, by thoſe virtuous thoughts he awak.
ens in us, by thoſe ſecret comforts and re-
freſhments which he conveys into our fouls,
and by thưfe raviſhing joys and inward fatis-
factions, which are perpetually ſpringing up,
and diffuſing themſelves anong all the


HIS ATTRIBUTES.
99
thoughts of good men. He is lodged in our
very eſſence, and is as a ſoul within the ſoul,
to irradiate its underſtanding, to rectify its
will, purify its pafiions, and enliven all the
powers of man. How happy therefore is an
intellectual being, who, by prayer and medi-
tation, by virtue and good works, opens this
communication betw. en God and his own
foul! Though the whole creation frowns up.
on him, and all nature looks black upon him,
he has light and ſupport withia him, that are
able to cheer his mind and bear him up in the
midſt of all thoſe horrors which encoinpaſ;
him. H: knows that his helper is at hand,
and is alivays nearer to hiin than any thing
elſe can be, which is capable of annoying or
terrifying him. In the midſt of caluinny or
contempt, he attends to that Being who whiſ.
pers better things within his ſoul, and whom
he looks upon as his defender, his glory and
the lifter up of his head. In his deepeſt ſoli.
tude and retirement, he knows that he is in
company with the greateſt of Beings; and
perceives within himſelf ſuch real ſenſations
of his preſence, as are more delightful than
any thing that can be met with in the con-
verſation of his creatures. Even in the hour
of death he conſiders the pains of his diffolu.
tion to be nothing elſe but the breaking
down of that partition, which ſtands betwixt
his ſoul, and the light of that Being, who is
always preſent with him, and is about to man.
ifeſt itſelf to him in fulneſs of joy.
If we would be thus happy, and thus ſena


100
OF GOD, AND
lible of our Maker's preſence from the ſecret
effects of his mercy and goodneſs, we muſt
keep ſuch a watch over all our thoughts, that,
in the language of the ſcripture, his foul may
have pleaſure in us. We muſt take care not
to grieve his Holy Spirit, and endeavour to
make the meditations of our hearts always
acceptable in his fight, that he may delight
thus to refide and dwell in us. The light of
nature could direct Seneca to this doctrine in
a very remarkable paſſage among his epiſtles ;
Sacer ineft in nobis Spiritus bonorum malorumque
cuftos, et obſervator, et quem admodum nos illum
tractamus, ita et ille nos. "'There is a holy
fpirit reſiding in us, who watches and ob.
ferves both good and evil men, and will treat
us after the fine inanner that we treat him."
But I ſhall conclude this diſcourſe with thoſe
more einphatical words in divine revelation,
“ If a man love me ; he will keep iny words,
and my father will love him, and we will
come unto him, and make our abode with
him."


HIS ATTRIBUTES.
101
IOI
Si verbo au lacia detur,
Non metuam magni dixifie palatia cæli.
Ov. Met. Lib. I. Ver. 175.
This place, the brighteſt manſion of the ſky,
I'll call the palace of the Deity.
DRYDEN.
Sir,
I CONSIDERED in my two laſt letters
that awful and tremendous ſubject, the ubiq.
uity or omnipreſence of the Divine Being. I
have thewn that he is equally preſent in all
places throughout the whole extent of infinie
ſpace. This doctrine is ſo agreeable to rea.
fon, that we meet with it in the writings of
the enlightened Heathens, as I might ſhow at
large, were it not already done by other
hands. But though the Deity be thus efſena
tially preſent through all the immenſity of
ſpace, there is one part of it in which he dif.
covers himſelf in a moſt tranſcendent and viſ.
able glory. This is that place which is mar.
ked out in fcripture under the different ap.
pellations of paradiſe, the third heaven, the
throne of God, and the habitation of his glo.
ry. It is here where the glorified body of
our Saviour reſides, and where all the celeſti.
al licrarchies and the innuinerable hoſt of an.
gels are repreſented as perpetually ſurround.
ing the ſeat of God with hallelujahs and
hymns of praiſe. This is that preſence of
God which ſome of the divines call his glori.
ous and others his majeſtic preſence. He is
indeed as eſſentially preſent in all other places
as in this ; but it is here where he reſides in a
12


102
OF GOD, AND
ſenſible magnificence, and in the midſt of
thofe fplendors which can affect the imagina.
tion of created beings.
It is very remarkable that this opinion of
God Almighty's preſence in heaven, whether
diſcovered by the light of nature, or by a gen.
eral tradition from our firſt parents, prevails
among all the nations of the world, whatſo-
ever different notions they entertain of the
Godhead. If you look into Homer, who is
the moſt ancient of the Greek writers, you
ſee the ſupreme power ſeated in the heavens,
and encompaſſed with inferior deities, among
whom the muſes are repreſented as ſinging
inceſſantly about his throne. Who does not
ſee here the main ſtrokes and out lines of this
great truth we are ſpeaking of ? The fame
doctrine is ſhadowed out in many other Hea-
then authors, though at the ſame tiine, like
ſeveral other revealed truths, daſhed and a.
dulterated with a mixture of fables and hu.
man inventions. But, to paſs over the no.
tions of the Greeks and Romans, thoſe more
enlightened parts of the Pagan world, we
find that there is ſcarce a people among the
late diſcovered nations who are not trained
up in an opinion that heaven is the habita.
tion of the divinity whom they worſhip.
As in Solomon's temple there was the fance
tuin ſanctorum, in which a viſible glory appear-
ed among the figures of the cherubims, and
into which none but the High-prieſt himſelf
was permitted to enter, after having made an
atonement for the fins of the people ; 1o, if


HIS ATTRIBUTES.
103
we conſider the whole creation as one great
temple, there is in it this holy of holies, into
which the High-prieſt of our ſalvation enter.
ed, and took his place among angels and arch-
angels, after having made a propitiation for
the fins of mankind.
With how much ſkill muſt the throne of
God be erected ? With what glorious deſigns
is that habitation beautified, which is con-
trived and built by hiin who infpired Hirain
with wiſdom ? How great muſt be the majeſ.
ty of that place, where the whole art of crea-
tion has been employed, and where God has
choſen to ſhew himſelf in the moſt magnifi.
cent manner? What inuſt be the architec-
ture of infinite power under the direction of
infinite wiſdom? A fpirit cannot but be trar.f.
ported after an incffable manner with the
fight of thoſe objects, which were made to
affect him by that Being who knows the inje
ward frame of a ſoul, and how to pleaſe and
raviſh it in all its inoſt ſecret powers and fac-
ulties. It is to this majeſtic preſence of God
we may apply thoſe beautiful exprefſions in
holy writ; “ Behold! even to the moon,
and it ſhineth not : yea, the ſtars are not pure
in his fight.” The light of the fun, and all
the glories of the world in which we live, are
but as weak and ſickly glimmerings, or rather
darkneſs itſelf, in compariſon of thoſe fplen.
dors which encompaſs the throne of God..
As the glory of this place is tranfcendant
beyond imagination, ſo probably is the ex.
tent of it. There is light behind light, and


104
OF GOD, AND
glory within glory. How far that fpace
may reach, in which God thus appears in
perfect majeſty, we cannot poſſibly conceive,
Though it is not infinite, it may be indefi.
nite ; and though not immeaſurable in itſelf,
it inay be ſo with regard to any created eye
or imagination. If he has made theſe lower
regions of matter fo inconceivably wide and
magnificent for the habitation of mortal and
periſhable beings, how great may we ſuppoſe
the courts of his houle to be, where he
makes his reſidence in a more eſpecial man.
ner, and diſplays himſelf in the fulneſs of his
glory, among an innumerable company of
angels and ſpirits of juſt men made perfect.
This is certain, that our imagination can.
not be raiſed too high, when we think on a
place where omnipotence and omniſcier.ce.
have ſo ſignally exerted theinſelves; becauſe
that they are able to produce a ſcene infinitely
more great and glorious than what we are a.
ble to imgine. It is not impoſſible but, at the
conſummation of all things theſe outward a.
partments of nature, which are now ſuited to
thoſe beings who inhabit them, may be taken
in and added to that glorious place of which
I am here ſpeaking, and by that means made
a proper habitation for beings who are ex-
empt from mortality, and cleared of their
imperfections : for fo the ſcripture ſeerns to
intimate, when it ſpeaks of a new heaven and
a new earth, wherein dwelleth righteouſneſs.
I have only conſidered this glorious place
with regard to the fight and imagination,


106
OF GOD, AND
the body, or out of the body, I cannot tell :
God knoweth) how that he was caught up
into paradiſe, and heard unſpeakable words,
which it is not poflible for a man to utter."
By this is meant, that what he heard was to
infinitely different from any thing wlich he
had heard in this world, that it was impof.
fible to expreſs it in ſuch words as might
convey a notion of it to his hearers.
It is very natural for us to take delight in
inquiries concerning any foreign country,
where we are ſome time or other to make our
abode ; and as we all hope to be admitted into
this glorious place, it is both a laudable and
uſeful curioſity to git what information we
can of it, whilſt we make uſe of revelation
for our guide. When theſe everlaſting doors
ſhall be opened to us we may be ſure that
the pleaſures and beauties of this place will
infinitely tranſcend our preſent hope and ex.
pectations ; and that the glorious appearance
of the throne of God will riſe infinitely be.
yond whatever we are able to conceive of it.
We might here entertain ourſelves with ina,
ny other ſpeculations on this ſubject, from
thoſe ſeveral hints which we find of it in the
holy ſcriptures ; as whether there may not be
different manſions and apartments of glory,
to beings of different natures ; whether, as
they excel one another in perfection, they
are not admitted nearer to the throne of the
Almighty, and enjoy greater manifeſtations
of his preſence ; whether there are not fol.
emn times and occaſions, when all the mul.


HIS ATTRIBUTES.
100
titude of beaven celebrate the preſence of
their Maker in more extraodinary forms of
praiſe and adoration ; as Adam, though he
had continued in a ſtate of innocence, would,
in the opinion of our divines, have kept ho-
ly the Sabbath day, in a more particular man.
ner than any other of the ſeven. Theſe, and
the like ſpeculations, we may very innocently
indulge, ſo long as we make ufe of them to
infpire us with a deſire of becoming inhabit.
ants of this delightful place.
I have in this, and in two foregoing letters,
treated on the moſt ſerious ſubject that can
employ the mind of man, the omnipreſence
of the Deity ; a ſubject which, if poſsible,
ſhould never depart from our meditations.
We have conſidered the divine Being as he
inhabits infinitude, as he dwells among his
works, as he is preſent to the mind of man,
and as he diſcovers himſelf in a more glori.
ous manner among the regions of the bleſſed.
Such a conſideration ſhould be kept awake
in us at all times, and in all places, and pof-
fels our minds with a perpetual awe and rev-
erence. It ſhould be interwoven with all our
thoughts and perceptions become one with the
conſciouſneſs of our own being. It is not to
be reflected on in the coldneſs of philofophy,'
but ought to fink us into the loweſt proſtra-
tion before him, who is ſo aſtonihing great,
wonderful and holy.


108
OF GOD, AND
Affiduo labuntur tempora metu 0
Non fecus ac flumen. Neque enim confiflere flumen
Nec levis bora poteft : ſed ut unda impellitur unda,
Urgeturque prior venienti, urgeique priorem,
· Tempora fic fugiunt pariter, pariterque, fequuntur :
Et nova junt ſemper. Namquod fuit ante, reli&um eft ;
Fitque quod haud fuerat ; momentaque cunda novantur.
Ov. Met. Lib. XIII. 179.
Ev'n times are in perpetual flux, and run
Like rivers from their fountain, rolling on,
For time, no more than ſtreams, is at a ſtay ;
The flying hour is ever on her way ;
And as the fountain ſtill ſupplies her ſtore,
The wave behind impels the wave before ;
Thus in fucceſſive courſe the minutes run,
And urge their predeceſſor minutes on,
Still moving, ever new : for former things
Are ſet aſide, like abdicated kings :
And every moment alters what was done,
And innovates lonie act, till then unknown.
DRYDEN.
WE conſider infinite fpace as an expanſion
without a circumference; we conſider eter-
nity, or infinite duration, as a line that has
neither a beginning nor end. In our fpecula.
tions of infinite ſpace, we conſider that par.
ticular place in which we exiſt, as a kind of
centre to the whole expanſion. In our ſpec-
ulations of eternity, we conſider the time
which is preſent to us as the middle, which
divides the whole line into two equal parts.
For this reaſon, many witty authors compare
the preſent time to an iſthmus or narrow
neck of land that riſes in the midſt of an ocean
immeaſurably diffuſed on either fide of it.
Philoſophy, and indeed common ſenſe, na-
turally throws eternity into two diviſions ;


HIS ATTRIBUTES.
109
which we may call, in Engliſh, that eternity
which is paſt, and that eternity which is to
come. The learned terms of æternitas a parte
ante and æternitas a parte poſt, may be more
amuſing to the reader, but can have no other
idea affixed to them than what is conveyed
to us by thoſe words, an eternity that is paſt,
and an eternity that is to come. Each of
theſe eternities is bounded at the one ex-
treme ; or, in other words, the former has an
end, and the latter a beginning.
Let us firſt of all confider that eternity
which is paft, reſerving that which is to come
for the ſubject of another paper. The na-
ture of this eternity is utterly inconceivable
by the mind of man ; our reaſon demon.
ſtrates to us that it has been, but at the ſame
time can frame no idea of it but what is big.
with abſurdity and contradiction. We can
have no other conception of any duration
which is paſt than that all of it was once prel-
ent, and whatever was was once preſent, is
at ſome certain diſtance from 1s ; and
whatever is at any certain diftar * from
us, be the diſtance never ſo remote, can-
not be eternity. The very notion of any
duration being paft, implies that it was once
prefent : for the idea of being once preſent is
actually included in the idea of its being paſt.
This therefore is a depth not to be founded
by human underſtanding. We are ſure that
Tiere has been an eternity, and yet contra-
dict ourſelves, when we meaſure this eterni.
ty by any notion which we can frame of it,


110
CF GOD, AND
If we go to the bottom of this matter, we
ſhall find, that the difficulties we meet with
in our conceptions of eternity proceed from
this ſingle reaſon, that we can have no idea
of any other kind of duration than that by
which we ourſelves, and all other created be-
ings, do exift ; which is a ſucceflive duration
made up of paſt, preſent, and to come.
There is nothing which exiſts after this man-
Der ; all the parts of this exiſtence were
once actually preſent, and conſequently may
be reached by certain numbers of years.
applied to it. We may aſcend as high as we
pleaſe, and employ our being to that eternity
which is to come, in adding millions of years,
to millions of years, and we can never come
up to any fountainhead of duration, to any
beginning in eternity ; but at the ſame time
we are ſure, that whatever was once preſent
does lie within the reach of numbers, though
perhaps we can never be able to put enough
of them together for that purpoſe. We may
as well fwy that any thing may be actually
preſent in any part of infinite ſpace, which
does not lie at a certain diſtance from us, as
that any part of infinite duration was once
actually preſent, and does not alſo lie at tome
determined diſtance from us. The diſtance
in both caſes may be immeaſurable and in.
definite as to our faculties, but our reaſon
tells us that it cannot be ſo in itſelf. Here
therefore is that difficulty which human un-
derſtanding is not capable of ſurmounting.
We are ſure that ſomething muſt have exo


HIS ATTRIBUTES.
111
iſted from eternity, and are at the ſame time
unable to conceive, that any thing which ex,
iſts, according to our notion of exiſtence, can
have exiſted from eternity.
It is hard for a reader, who has not rolled
this thought in his own mind, to follow in
ſuch an abſtracted ſpeculation ; but I have
been the longer on it, becauſe I think it is å
demonſtrative argument of the being and e-
ternity of a God; and though there are ma.
ny other demonſtrations which lead us to
this greit truth, I do not think we ought to
lay aſide any proofs in this matter which the
light of reason has ſuggeſted to us, eſpecially
when it is ſuch a one as has been urged by
men famous for their penetration and force
of underſtanding, and which appears alto-
gether concluſive to thoſe who will be at the
pains to examine it.
Having thus conſidered that eternity which
is paſt, according to the beſt idea we can
frame of it, I thall now draw up thoſe ſever-
al articles on this ſubject which are diétatech
to us by the light of reaſon, and which may
be looked upon as the creed of a philoſopher
in this great point.
Firſt, It is certain that no being could have
made itſelf; for if fo, it muſt have acted be.
fore it was, which is a contradiction.
Secondly, That therefore ſome being muſt
have exiſted from all eternity.
Thirdly, That whatever exiſts after the
manner of created beings, or according to
any notions which we have of exiſtence,


114
OF GOD, AND
come. Such a fleeting and fücceffive exiſt-
ence is rather a ſhadow of exiſtence, and
ſomething which is like it, than exiſtence it.
ſelf. He only properly exiſts whoſe exiſtence
is entirely preſent ; that is, in other words,
who exiſts in the moſt perfect manner, and
in ſuch a manner, as we have no idea of.
I ſhall conclude this ſpeculation with one
uſeful inference. How can we ſufficiently
proftrate ourſelves and fall down before our
Maker, when we conſider that ineffible good.
neſs and wiſdom which contrived this exiſt.
ence for finite natures? What muſt be the
overflowings of that good-will, which prompte
ed our Creator to adapt exiſtence to beings in
whom it is not neceſſary, eſpecially when we
conſider that he himſelf was before in the
complete poffeffion of exiſtence and of hapa
pineſs, and in the full enjoyment of eternity?
What man can think of himſelf as called out,
and feparated from nothing, of his being
made a conſcious, a reaſonable and a happy
creature ; in ſhort, of being taken in as a
ſharer of exiſtence, and a kind of partner in
eternity, without being ſwallowed up in won.
der, in praiſe, and adoration ! It is indeed a
thought too big for the mind of man, and ra.
ther to be entertained in the ſecrecy of de- .
votion, and in the filence of the fouſ, than to
be expreſſed by words. The Supreme Be-
ing has not given us powers or faculties ſuf-
ficient to extoll and magnify ſuch unutterable
goodnefs.
It is however ſome comfort to us, that we


HIS ATTRIBUTES.
115
ſhall be always doing what we ſhall be never
able to do, and that a work which cannot be
finiſhed, will however be the work of an es
ternity.
SECT. II.
THE POWER AND WISDOM OF GOD IN
THE CREATION.
Inde hominum pecudumque genus, vitæque voluntum,
El quæ marmoreo fert monfira fub aequore pontus.
Virg. Æn. VL. v. 728.
Hence men and beaſts the breath of life. obtain,
And birds of air and monſters of the main.
DRYDE N.
THOUGH there is a great deal of pleaſure
in contemplating the material world, by which
I mean that ſyſtem of bodies into which na.
ture has ſo curiouſly wrought the maſs of
dead matter, with the feveral relations which
thoſe bodies bear to one another ; there is
ſtill, methinks, fomething more wonderful
and ſurpriſing in contemplations on the world
of life, by which, I mean all thofe animals
with which every part of the univerſe is fur-
niſhed. The material world is only the ſhell
of the univerſe ; the world of life are its in-
habitants.
· If we conſider the parts of the material
world which lie the neareſt to us, and are


116.
THE POWER AND WISDOM
therefore ſubject to our obſervations and
inquiries, it is ainazing to conſider the infin-
ity of animals with which it is ſtocked.
Every part of matter is peopled ; every greet
leaffwarms with inhabitants. There is ſcarcé
a ſingle humour in the body of a man, or of
any other animal, in which our glaſſes do
not diſcover myriads of living creatures.
The ſurface of animals is alſo covered with
other animals, which are in the fame níanner
the baſis of other animals that live upon it;
nay we find in the moſt folid bodies, as in
marble itſelf, innumerable cells and cavities
that are crouded with ſuch imperceptible in.
habitants, as are too little for the naked eye
to diſcover. On the other hand, if we look
into the more bulky parts of nature, we ſee
the feas, lakes and rivers teeming with
numberleſs kinds of living creatures : we
find every mountain and marſh, wilder.,
neſs and wood, plentifully ſtocked with birds
and beaſts, and every part of matter affording
proper neceſſaries and conveniencies for the
livelihood of multiudes which inhabit it.
The author of the plurality of worlds draws
a very good argument from this confidera-
tion, for the peopling of every planet ; as in.
deed it ſeems very probable from the analo.
gy of reaſon, that if no part of matter, which
we are acquainted with, lies waſte and uſeleſs,
thoſe great bodies which are at ſuch a diſtance
from us, ſhould not be deſart and unpeopled,
but rather that they ſhould be furniſhed with
beings adapted to their reſpective ſituations.


118 THE POWER AND WISDOM
theſe three there is ſuch a different degree of
perfection in the ſenſe which one animal en-
joys beyond what appears in another, that
though the ſenſe in different animals be diftin-
guilhed by the fame common denomination,
it ſeems almoſt of a different nature. If after
this we look into the ſeveral inward perfec-
tions of cunning and fagacity, or what we
generally call inſtinct, we find them riſing
after the ſame manner, imperceptibly one
above another, and receiving additional im.
proveinents according to the ſpecies in which
they are implated. This progreſs in nature
is ſo very gradual, that the moſt perfect of
an inferior ſpecies comes very near to the
moſt imperfect of that which is immediately
above it.
The exuberant and overflowing goodneſs
of the Supreme Being, whoſe mercies extend
to all his works, is plainly ſeen, as I have be-
fore hinted, from his having made fo very
little matter, at leaft, what falls within our
knowledge, that does not ſwarm with life :
- Nor is his goodneſs leſs ſeen in the diverſity,
than in the mukitude of living creatures.
Had he only made one fpecies of animals,
none of the reſt would have enjoyed the hap.
pineſs of exiſtence ; he has, therefore, ſpeci.
fied in his creation every degree of life, every
capacity of being. The whole chaſm of na-
ture from a plant to a inan is filled up with
divers kinds of creatures riſing one over ano.
ther, by ſuch a gentle and eaſy aſcent, that
the little tranſitions and deviations from one


OF GOD IN THE CREATION. i1g
fpecies to another, are almoſt inſenſible. This
intermediate ſpace is ſo well huſbanded and
managed, that there is ſcarce a degree of per-
ception which does not appear in ſome one
part of the world of life. Is the goodneſs or
wiſdom of the Divine Being more manifeſted
than in this his proceeding?
There is a conſequence beſides thoſe I have
already mentioned, which ſeems very natur,
ally deducible from the foregoing confidera.
tions. If the ſcale of being riſes by ſuch a
regular progreſs, ſo high as men, we may by
a parity of reaſon ſuppoſe that it ſtill proceeds
gradually through thoſe beings which are of
a ſuperior nature to him : ſince there is an
infinitely greater ſpace and room for differ-
ent degrees of perfection, between the Su-
preine Being and man, than between man,
and the moſt deſpicable infect. This confe-
quence of ſo great a variety of beings which
are ſuperior to us from that variety which
is inferior to us, is made by Mr. Locke, in a
paſſage which I ſhall here fet down, after
having premiſed, that notwithſtanding there
is ſuch infinite room between man and his
inaker, for the creative power to exert itſelf
in, it is iinpoſſible that it ſhould ever be filled
up, ſince there will be ſtill an infinite gap or
diſtance between the higheſt created being,
and the power which produced him.
“ That there ſhould be more ſpecies of in.
telligent creatures above us, than there are
of ſenſible and material below us, is probable
to me from lence; that in all the viſible


120
THE POWER AND WISDOM
corporeal world, we ſee no chaſms, or no
gaps. All quite down from us, the deſcent
is by eaſy ſteps, and a continued ſeries of
things, that in each remove differ very little
one from the other. There are fiſhes that
have wings, and are not ſtrangers to the airy
region: and there are ſome birds, that are
inhabitants of the water : whoſe blood is
cold as fiſhes and their fleſh ſo like in taſte,
that the ſcrupulous are allowed them on
fiſh.days. There are animals ſo near of kin
both to birds and beaſts, that they are in the
iniddle between both : amphibious animals
link the terreſtrial and aquatic together;
ſeals live on land and at fea, and porpoiſes
have the warm blood and entrails of a hog,
not to mention what is confidently reported
of mermaids or ſea.men. There are ſome
brutes, that ſeen to have as much knowl.
edge and reaſon, as ſome that are called men;
and the animal and vegetable kingdoms are
fo nearly joined, that if you will take the
loweſt of one, and the higheſt of the other,
there will ſcarce be perceived any great dif.
ference between them; and ſo on till we
come to the loweſt and the moſt inorganical
parts of natter, we ſhall find every where
that the ſeveral ſpecies are linked together,
and differ but in almoſt inſenſible degrees.
And when we conſider the infinite power
and wiſdom of the Maker, we have reaſon
to think that it is ſuitable to the magnificent
harmony of the univerſe, and the great de.
lign and infinite goodneſs of the Architect,


OF GOD IN THE CREATION.
121
that the ſpecies of creatures ſhould alſo, by
gentle degrees, afcend upward from us to-
ward his infinite perfection, as we ſee they
gradually deſcend from us downwards;
which if it be probable, we have reaſon then
to be perſuaded, that there are far more ſpe.
cies of creatures above us than there are be.
neath us; we being in degrees of perfection
much more remote from the infinite being
of God, than we are from the loweſt ſtate of
being, and that which approaches neareſt to
nothing. And yet of all thoſe diſtinct ſpecies,
we have no clear diſtinct ideas."
In this ſyſtem of being, there is no crea.
ture ſo wonderful in its nature, and which
fo much deſerves our particular attention, as
man, who fills up the middle ſpace between
the animal and intellectual nature, the viſible
and inviſible world, and is that link in the
chain of beings, which has been often terin-
ed the nexus utriuſque miundi. So that he who
in one reſpect is aflociated with angels and
archangels, may look upon a being of infinite
perfection as his father, and the higheſt or-
der of ſpirits as his brethren ; may in another
reſpect fay to corruption, thou art iny father,
and to the worin, thou art my mother and
my filler.
.
.
L


THE POWER AND WISDOM
Facies non omnibus una.
Ncc diverſa tamen.
Ovid. Mer. Lib. II. V.
Though various features diff'rent afpects grace,
A certain likeneſs is in ep’ry face.
THOSE who were ſkilful in anatomy a.
mong the ancients, concluded from the out.
ward and inward make of an human body,
that it was the work of a being tranſcendent.
ly wiſe and powerful. As the world grew
more enlightened in this art, their diſcoveries
gave them freſh opportunities of admiring
the conduct of Providence in the formation
of an human body. Galen was converted
by his diſſections, and could not but own a
Supreme Being upon a ſurvey of this his han-
dy-work. There were, indeed, many parts
of which the old anatomiſts did not know the
certain uſe, but as they ſaw that moſt of thoſe
which were examined were adapted with
admirable art to their ſeveral functions, they
did not queſtion but thoſe whoſe uſes they
could not determine, were contrived with
the ſame wiſdom for reſpective ends and pur-
poles. Since the circulation of the blood has
been found out, and many other great diſcov.
eries have been made by our modern anato-
mifts, we ſee new wonders in the human
frame,and diſcern ſeveral important uſes for
thoſe parts, which uſes the ancients knew no-
thing of. In ſhort, the body of a man is ſuch
a ſubject as ſiands the utmoſt teſt of examin-
ation. Though it appears formed with the
niceft wiſdom, upon the moſt ſuperficial ſur.


OF GOD IN THE CREATION.
123
vey of it, it ſtill mends upon the ſearch, and
produces our ſurprize and amazement in pro-
portion as we pry into it. What I have here
ſaid of an human body, may be applied to the
body of every animal, which has been the
fübject of anatomical obſervations,
The body of an animal is an object ad2-
quate to our ſenſes. It is a particular fyftem
of Providence, that lies in a narrow compaſs.
The eye is able to command it, and by fuc.
ceffive enquiries can ſearch into all its parts.
Could the body of the whole earth, or indeed
the whole univerſe, be thus ſubmitted to the
examination of our ſenſes, were it not too big
and diſproportioned for our inquiries, too
unwieldy for the management of the eye and
hand, there is no queſtion but it would ap.
pear to us as curious and well contrived a
frame as that of an human body. We ſhould
ſee the ſame concatenation and fubferviency,
the ſame ncceflity and uſefulneſs, the ſame
beauty and harmony in all and every of its
parts, as what we diſcover in the body of
every ſingle animal.
The more extended our reaſon is, and the
more able to grapple with immenſe objects,
the greater ſtill are thoſe diſcoveries which it
makes of wiſdom and providence in the
work of the creation. A Sir Iſaac Newton,
who ſtands up as the miracle of the preſent
age, can look through a whole planetary fyſ:
tem ; conſider it in its weight, number and
meaſure ; and draw from it as many demon-
Atrations of infinite power and wiſdom, as a


124
THE POWER AND WISDOM
more confined underſtanding is able to de.
duce from the ſyſtem of ap human body.
But to retura to our ſpeculations on anat-
on:y. I fhail here conſider the fabric and tex-
ture of the bodies of animals in one particu.
lar view ; which, in my opinion, Thews the
hand cia thinking and all-wiſe being in their
formation, with the evidence of a thouſand
demonſtrations. I think we may lay this.
down as an inconteſted principle, that chance
never acts in a perpetual uniforinity and con-
fiſtence with itſelf. If one ſhould always fling
the ſame number with ten thouſand dice, or
ſee every throw juſt five times leſs, or five
times more in number than the throw which
iourediately preceeded it, who would not im.
agine there is fome inviſible power which die
rects the caſt ? This is the proceeding which
we find in the operations of nature. Every
kind of animal is diverſified by different mag.
nitudes, each of which gives riſe to a different
fpecies. Let a man trace the dog or lion kind,
and he will obſerve how many of the works
of nature are publiſhed, if I may uſe the ex.
preſlion, in a variety of editions. If we look
into the reptile world, or into thofe different
kinds of animals that fill the element of wa.
ter, we nieet with the fame repetitions a.
mong ſeveral ſpecies, that differ very little
from one another, but in fize and bulk.
You find the ſame creature that is drawn at
large, copied out in ſeveral proportions, and
ending in miniature. It would be tedious.
to produce inftances of this regular conduct


OF GOD IN THE CREATION.
125
in Providence, as it would be ſuperfluous to
thoſe who are verled in the natural hiſtory
of animals. The magnificent harmony of the
univerſe is ſuch, that we may obſerve innu.
merable diviſions running upon the ſame
ground. I might alſo extend this ſpeculation
to the dead parts of nature, in which we may
find matter diſpoſed into many ſimilar fyl.
tems, as well in our ſurvey of ſtars and plan.
ets, as of ſtones, vegetables, and other ſub-
lunary parts of the creation. In a word, Prov-
idence has fhewn the richneſs of its goodneſs
and wiſdoin, not only in the production of
many original ſpecies, but in the multiplicity
of decents which it has made on every orig-
inal ſpecies in particular.
But to purſue this thought ſtill further ::
Every living creature, conſidered in itſelf,
has many very complicated parts, that are
exact copies of ſome other parts which it pof.
feſſes, and which are complicated in the ſame
manner. One eye would have been ſufli.
cient for the ſubliſtence and preſervation of
an animal; but, in order to better liis con-
dition we ſee another placed with a mathe.
matical exactneſs in the ſame moſt advantag.
eous ſituation, and in every particular, of the
fame ſize and texture. Is it poſſible for chance
to be thus delicate and uniform in her" ope-
rations ; ſhould a million of dice turn up
twice together the ſame number, the won.
der would be nothing in compariſon with
this. But when we ſee this fimilitude and
reſemblance in the arm, the hand, the fin.
* L:2:.


126
THE POWER AND WISDOM
gers; when we ſee one half of the body, en
tirely correſpond with the other in all thoſe
minute ſtrokes, without which a man might
have very well ſubfifted; nay, when we ofa
ten ſee a ſingle part repeated an hundred
times in the ſame. body, notwithſtanding it
conſiſts of the moſt intricate weaving of num.
berlefs fibres, and theſe parts differing ſtill
in magnitude, as the convenience of their.
particular ſituation requires ; fure a man:
muſt have a ſtrange caſt of underſtanding,
who does not diſcover the finger of God in
fo wonderful a work. Theſe duplicates in.
thoſe parts of the body, without wiich a
man might have very well ſubfifted, though
xot ſo well as with them, are a plain demon.
ſtration of an all wiſe contriver; as thoſe
more numerous copyings, which are found
among the veſſels of the ſame body, are evi..
dent demonſtrations that they could not be
the work of chance. This argument receives.
additional ſtrength, if we apply. it to every
animal and infect within our knowledge, as.
well as to thoſe numberleſs living creatures,
that are objects too minute for a human eye;,
and if we conſider how the ſeveral ſpecies in
this whole world of life refernble one anoth-
er, in very many particulars, fo far as is con-
venient for their reſpective ſtates of exiſte
ence; it is much more probable that an hun.
dred million of dice ſhould be caſually thrown
a hundred million of times in the ſame num-
ber, than that the body of any ſingle animal.
fhould be produced by the fortuitous cone


128;
THE POWER AND WISDOM.
God, drawn from the knowledge of nature, par:-
ticularly of man, and fitted to the ineaneſt capacity,
by the archbiſhop of Cambray, author of Tela
emachus ; tranſlated from the French by the
ſame hand that engliſhed that excellent piece.
This great author, in the writings which he
has before produced, has manifeſted an heart
full of virtuous ſentiments, great benevolence
to mankind, as well as a fincere and fervent
piety towards his creator. His talents and
parts are a very great good to the world ;
and it is a pleaſing thing to behold the polite
arts ſubſervient to religion, and recommend.
ing it from its natural beauty. Looking o.
ver the letters of my correſpondents, I.find
one which celebrates this treatiſe, and recom.
mends it to my readers.
To the GUARDIAN.
SIR,
I THINK I have ſomewhere read, in the
writings of one whom I take to be a friend
of your's, a ſaying which itruck me very.
much ; and, as I remember, it was to this
purpoſe ; ". The exiſtence of a God is ſo far
from being a thing that wants to be proved,
that I think it the only thing of which we
are certain.” This is a ſprightly ani juſt ex-
preſſion ; however, I dare ſay you will not be
diſpleaſed that I put you in mind of ſaying
ſomething on the demoſtration of the biſhop
of Cambray. A man of his talents views all
things in a light different from that in which
ordinary men ſee them; and the devout dif-


OF GOD IN THE CREATION. ing
poſition of his foul turns all thoſe talents to
the improvement of the pleaſures of a good
lite. His ſtyle clothes philofophy in a dreſs
almoſt poetic, and his readers enjoy in full
perfection the advantage, while they are read.
ing him, of being what he is. The pleaſing
repreſentation of the animal powers in the
beginning of his work, and his conſider-
ation of the nature of man with the addition
of reaſon, in the ſubſequent diſcourſe, im.
preſſes upon the mind a ítrong ſatisfaction in
itſelf, and gratitude towards him who bef-
towed that ſuperiority over the brute world.
Theſe thoughts had ſuch an effect upon the
author himſelf, that he has ended his dif-
courſe with a prayer. This adoration has a
ſublimity in it befitting his character ; and
the emotions of his heart flow from wiſdom
and knowledge. I thought it would be pro-
per for a Saturday's paper, and have tranſ-
lated it, to make you a preſent of it. I have
not, as the tranſlator was obliged to do, con.
fined myſelf to an exact verſion from the o-
riginal, but have endeavoured to expreſs the
ſpirit of it by taking the liberty to render his
thoughts in ſuch a way, as I ſhould have ut.
tered them, if they had been mine own. Ic
has been obſerved, that the private letters of
great men are the beſt pictures of their ſouls :
but certainly their private devotions would
be ſtill more inſtructive, and I know not
why they ſhould not be as curious and en.
tertaining
If you inſert this prayer, I know not buc


130
THE POWER AND WISDOM
I may ſend you, for another occaſion, one
uſed by a very great wit of the laſt age,
which has alluſions to the errors of a very
wild life; and, I believe you will think, is
written with an uncommon ſpirit. The per-
ſon whom I mean was an excellent writer;
and the publication of this prayer of his may
be perhaps ſome kind of antidote againſt the
infection in his other writings. But this fup.
plication of the biſhop has in it a more hap.
py and untroubled ſpirit : it is (if that is not
faying ſomething too iond) the worſhip of
an angel, concerned for thoſe who had fallen,
but himſelf ſtill in the ſtate of glory and in.
nocence. The book ends with an act of de-
votion to this effect :
"O my God! if the greater number of
mankind do not diſcover thee in that glori.
ous ſhow of nature, which thou haft placed
before our cyes, it is not becauſe thou art
far from every one of us ; thou art preſent
to us more than any object which we touch
with our hands; but our ſenſes and the paſ:
fions which they produce in us, turn our ata
tention from thee. Thy light hines in the
midit of darkneſs, but the darkneſs compre-
hends it not. Thou, O Lord, doſt every
where diſplay thyſelf: thou ſhineſt in all thy
works, but art not regarded by heedleſs and
unthinking man. The whole creation talks
aloud of thee, and echoes with the repetitions.
of thy holy name. But ſuch is our infenfi.
bility, that we are deaf to the great and uni.
· verſal voice of nature. Thou art every where


132 THE POWER AND WISDOM
withſtanding they know what is wiſdom and
virtue, which have neither ſound, nor colour,
nor ſmell, nor taſte, nor figure, nor any oth-
er ſenſible quality, they can doubt of thy es.
iſtence, becauſe thou art not apprehended
by the groſſer organs of fenfe. Wretches
that we are! we conſider ſhadows as realities,
and truth as a phantom. That which is
nothing is all to us, and that which is all ap-
pears to us nothing. What do we ſee in all
nature, but thee, O my God! thou, and on.
ly thou, appeareft in every thing. When I
conſider thee, O Lord, I am ſwallowed up
and loſt in contemplation of thee. Every
thing beſides thee, even my own exiſtence,
vanilhes and diſappears in the contemplation
of thee. I am loſt to myſelf, and fall into
nothing, when I think on thee. The man
who does not ſee thee has beheld nothing :
he who does not taſte thee has a reliſh of
nothing. His bcing is vain, and his life but
a dream. Set up thyſelf, O Lord ! ſet up
thyſelf that we may be hold thee. As wax
confuines before the fire, and as the ſmoke is
driven away, ſo let thine enemies vanilh out
of thy preſence. How unhappy is that foul,
who, without the ſenſe of thee, has no God,
no hope, no comfort to ſupport him! But
how happy the man who ſearches, fighs, and
thirſts after thee! But he only is fully happy
on whom thou littelt up the light of thy
countenance, whole tears thou haſt wiped
away, and who enjoys in thy lovirg kind-
neſs the complerion of all his deſires. How


THE PROVIDENCE OF GOD. 135
with many repulſes. The buſineſs of man.
kind in this life being rather to act, than to
know, their portion of knowledge is dealt to
them accordingly.
From hence it is, that the reaſon of the
inquiſitive has ſo long been exerciſed with
difficulties, in accounting for the promiſcu.
ous diftribution of good and evil to the vir.
tuous and the wicked in this world. From
hence come all thoſe pathetical complaints of
fo many tragical events, which happen to the
wife and the good: and of ſuch ſurpriſing
proſperity which is often the reward of the
guilty and the fooliſh; that reaſon is fome.
times puzzled, and at a loſs what to pro-
nounce upon ſo myſterious a difpenfition.
Plato expreſſes his abhorrence of fome fa.
bles of the poets, which ſeem to reilect on
the gods as the au hors of injuſtice; and lays
it down as a principle, that whatever is per-
mitted to bufal a juít man, whether poverty,
fickneſs, or any of thoſe things which ſeem
to be evils, thall either in life or death coa-
duce to his good. My reader will obſerve
how agreeable this maxim is to what we find
delivered by a greater authority. Seneca has
written a diſcourſe purpoſely on this ſubject,
in which he takes pains, after the doctrine of
the Stoics, to fhew, that adverſity is not in
itfelf an evil ; and mentions a noble fuying of
Demetrius, " That nothing would be more
unhappy than a man who had never known
affliction." He compares proſperity to the
indulgence of a fond mother to a child which


136
THE PROVIDENCE OF GOD.
often proves his ruin ; but the affection of
the Divine Being to that of a wiſe father,
who would have his fons exerciſed with la-
bour, diſappointment, and pain, that they
might gather ſtrength, and improve their
fortitude. On this occaſion the philofopher
riſes into that celebrated ſentiment, that
there is not on earth a ſpectacle more worthy
the regard of a Creator intent on his works,
than a brave man ſuperior to his fufferings ;
to which he adds, that it muſt be a pleaſure
to Jupiter himſelf to look down from heaven
and fee Cato, amidſt the ruins of his country,
preſerving his integrity.
This thought will appear yet more reaſon.
able, if we conſider human life as a ſtate of
probation, and adverfity as the poft of hon.
our in it, afligned often to the beſt and moſt
ſelect fpirits.
But what I would chiefly inſiſt on here, is,
that we are nor at preſent in a proper ſitua.
tion to judge of the counſels by which Prov.
idence acts, fince but little arrives at our
knowledge, and even that little we diſcern
imperfectly ; or, according to the elegant fig.
ure in holy writ, “ we ſee but in part, and
as in a glaſs darkly.” It is to be conſidered,
that Providence, in its economy, regards the
whole ſyſtem of time and things together,
ſo that we cannot diſcover the beautiful con.
nexions between incidents, which lie widely
ſeparated in time, and by loſing ſo many
links of the chain, our reaſonings become
broken and imperfect. Thus thoſe parts in


THE PROVIDENCE OF GOD.
137
the moral world which have not an abſolute,
may yet have a relative b:auty, in reſpect of
ſome other parts concealed from us, but (-
pen to his eye, before whoin paſt, preſent,
and to come, are ſet together in one point
of view: and thoſe events, the permiſſion
of which ſeems now to accuſe his goodneſs,
may, in the conſummation of things, both
magnify his goodneſs, and exalt his wiſdom.
And this is enough to check our preſump-
tion, fince it is in vain to apply our inzafures
of regularity to matters of which we know
neither the antecedents nor the conſequents,
the beginning nor the end.
I hall relieve my readers from this ab.
ftracted thought, by relating here a Jewiſh
tradition concerning Mofes, which ſeems to
be a kind of parable illuſtrating what I have
laftinentioned. That great prophet, it is
ſaid, was called up by a voice from heaven
to the top of a mountain; where, in a con-
ference with the Supreme Being, he was
permitted to propoſe to him fome queſtions
concerning his adminiftration of the univerſe.
In the midſt of this divine colloquy he was
commanded to look down on the plain be-
low. At the foot of the mountain there if-
ſued out a clear ſpring of water, at which a
földier alighted from his horſe to drink. He
was no ſooner gone than a little boy came to
the ſame place, and finding a purſe of gold
which the foldier had dropped, took it up,
and went away with it. Immediately after
this came an infirm old man, weary with
..M2


138
THE PROVIDENCE OF GOD.
age and travelling, and having quenched
his thirſt, ſat down to reſt himſelf by
the ſide of the ſpring. The foldier
inilling his purſe returns to ſearch for it,
and demands it of the old man, who af.
firms he had not ſeen it, and appeals to hea.
ven in witneſs of his innocence. The foldier,
not believing his proteſtation, kills him.
Moſes fell on his face with horror and amaze-
ment, when the divine voice thus prevented
his expoitulation ;“ Be not ſurpriſed, Mofes,
nor aſk, why the judge of the whole earth
has ſuffered this thing to come to paſs ; the
child is the occaſion that the blood of the old
man is fpilt ; but know, that the old man,
whom thou faweſt, was the murderer of that
child's father.”
Fortune favours ſtill the wiſe and brave.
,'THE famous Gratian, in his little book
wherein he lays down maxims for a man's
advancing himfelf at court, adviſes his reader
to aſſociate himſelf with the fortunate, and
to fhun the company of the unfortunate ;
which, notwithſtanding the baſenefs of the
precept to an honeſt mind, may have fome-
thing uſeful in it for thofe who puſh their in.
tereſt in the world. It is certain, a great
part of what we call good or ill fortune, riſes
out of right or wrong meaſures or ſchemes


THE PROVIDENCE OF GOD.
him that he hecauſe it was aled at the co
of life. When I hear a man complain of his
being unfortunate in all his undertakings, I
ſhrewdly ſuſpect him for a weak man in his
affairs. In conformity with this way of
thinking, Cardinal Richlieu uſed to ſay, that
unfortunate and imprudent were but two
words for the fame thing. As the Cardinal
himſelf had a great ſhare both of prudence
and good fortune, his famous antagoniſt, the
Count D'Olivarez, was diſgraced at the court
of Madrid, becauſe it was alledged againſt
him that he had never any ſucceſs in his un.
dertakings. This, ſays an eminent author,
was indirectly accuſling him of imprudence.
- Cicero recommended Pompey to the Ro.
mans for their general, upon three accounts,
as he was a man of courage, conduct, and
good fortune. It was perhaps for the reaſon
above mentioned, namely, that a ſeries of
good fortune ſuppoſes a prudent manage.
ment in the perſon to whom it befals, that
not only Sylla the dictator, but ſeveral of the
Roman emperors, as is ſtill to be ſeen upon
their medals, among their other titles, give
themſelves that of Felix or Fortunate. The
heathens indeed ſeem to have valued a man
more for his good fortune than for any other
quality, which I think is very natural for
thoſe who have not a ſtrong belief of anoth-
er world. For how can I conceive a man,
crowned with many diſtinguiſhing bleſſings,
that has not ſome extraordinary fund of iner-
it and perfection in him, which lies open to
the Supreme eye, though perhaps it is not


140
THE PROVIDENCE OF GOD.
diſcovered by my obſervation ? What is the
realon Homer and Virgil's heroes do Fot
form a reſolution, or ſtrike a blow, without
the conduct and direction of fome deity ? -
Doubtleſs becauſe the poets eileemed it the
greateſt honour to be favoured by the gods,
and thought the beſt way of praiſing a man
was to recount thoſe favours which naturale
ly implied an extraordinary merit in the per-
fon on whom they defcended.
· Thoſe who believe a future ſtate of re.
wards and puniſhments, act very abſurdly if
they form their opinions of a man's merit
from his ſucceſſes.
But certainly if I thought the whole circle
of our being was concluded between our
births and deaths, I ſhould think a man's
good forrtune the meaſure and ſtandard of
his real merit, ſince Providence would have
ro opportunity of rewarding his virtue and
perfecti :ns but in the preſent life. A virtute
ous urby-liever, who lies under the preflure of
misfortunes, has reaſon to cry out, as they
fay Brutus did, a little before his death, “O
virtue! I have worſhipped thee as a fubftantial
good, but I find thou art an empty name. "
But to return to our firſt point, though
prudence does undoubtedly in a great mea.
ſure produce our good or ill fortune in the
world, it is certain that there are many un.
foreſeen accidents and occurrences, which
very often pervert the fineſt ſchemes that can
be laid by human wiſdom. The race is not
always to the ſwift, nor the battle to the


THE PROVIDENCE OF GOD.
148
Since on this ſubject I have already admit.
ted ſeveral quotations which have occurred
to my memory upon writing this paper, I
will conclude it with a little Perfian fable.
A drop of water fell out of a cloud into the
lea, and finding itſelf loft in ſuch an immen-
ſity of fluid matter, broke out into the fol."
lowing reflection ; “ Alas! what an inſignifi-
cant creature am I in this prodigious ocean
of waters ; my exiftence is of no concern to
the univerſe ; I am reduced to a kind of
nothing, and am leſs than the leaſt of the
works of God.” It ſo happened, that an
oyſter, which lay in the neighbourhood of
this drop, chanced to gape and ſwallow it up
in the midſt of this its humble foliloquy.
The drop, ſays the fable, lay a great while
hardening in the fhell, till by degrees it was
ripened into a pearl : which, falling into the
hands of a diver, after a long feries of adven.
tures, is at prefent that famous pearl which
is fixed on the top of the Perſian diadem.


144
THE PROVIDENCE OF GOD.
Si fračtus illabatur orbis
Impavidum ferient ruine.
Hor. Lib. III. Ode 3. 1. 7.
Should the whole frame of Dature round him break,
In ruin and confuſion hurld,
He, unconcern’d, would hear the mighty crack,
And ſtand ſecure amidt a falling world.
ANON.
, MAN, conſidered in himſelf, is a very
helpleſs and a very wretched being. He is
ſubject every moment to the greateſt calami.
ties and misfortunes. He is beſet with dan.
ger on all fides, and may become unhappy by
numberleſs caſulties, which he could not fore.
ſee, nor have prevented had he foreſeen them.
It is our comfort, while we are obnoxious
to ſo many accidents, that we are under the
care of one who directs contingencies, and
has in his hands, the management of every
thing that is capable of annoying or offend.
ing us ; who knows the aſſiſtance we ſtand in
need of, and is always ready to beſtow it on
thoſe who aſk it of him. .
The natural homage which ſuch a crea-
ture bears to fo infinitely wiſe and good a
Being, is a firm reliance on him for the bleſ-
fings and conveniencies of life : and an habit.
ual truſt in him for deliverance out of all
ſuch dangers and difficulties as may befal us.
The man who always lives in this diſpoſi.
tion of mind, has not the ſame dark and mel.
ancholy views of human nature as he who
conſiders himſelf abſtractedly from this rela.
tion to the Supreme Being. At the fanie


THE PROVIDENCE OF GOD.
145
time that he reflects upon his own weakneſs
and imperfection, hecomforts himſelfwith the
contemplation of theſe divine attributes, which
are employed for his ſafety and his welfare.
He finds his want of foreſight made up by
the omniſcience of him who is his ſupport.
He is not ſenſible of his own want of ſtrength,
when he knows that his helper is almighty.
In ſhort, the perſon who has a firm truſt on
the Supreme Being, is powerful in his power,
wiſe by his wiſdom, happy by his happineſs.
He reaps the benefit of every divine attribute,
and loſes his own inſufficiency in the fulneſs
of infinite perfection.
To make our lives more eaſy to us, we are
commanded to put our truſt in him, who is
thus able to relieve and and ſuccour us ; the
divine goodneſs having made ſuch a reliance
a duty, notwithſtanding we ſhould have been
miſerable had it been forbidden us.
Among ſeveral motives which might be
made uſe of to recommend this duty to us,
I ſhall only take notice of thoſe that follow.
The firſt and ſtrongeſt is, that we are prom.
iſed he will not fail thoſe who put their truft
in him.
But without conſidering the ſupernatural
blefling which accompanies this duty, we
may obſerve, that it has a natural tendency
to its own rewards ; or, in other words, that
this firm truſt and confidence in the great
Diſpoſer of all things, contributes very much
to the getting clear of any affliction, or to
the bearing it manfully. A perſon who be.
N


146
THE PROVIDENCE OF GOD.
lieves he has his fuccour at hand, and that
he acts in ſight of his friend, often exerts
himſelf beyond his abilities, and does won-
ders that are not to be matched by one who
is not animated with ſuch a confidence of
ſucceſs. I could produce inſtances from hiſ-
tory, of generals, who, out of a belief that
they were under the protection of ſome invi.
fible aſſiſtant, did not only encourage their fol.
diers to do their utmoſt, but have acted them-
ſelves beyond what they would have done,
had they not been inſpired by ſuch a belief.
I might, in the fame manner, fhew how ſuch
a truſt in the afliſtance of an Almighty Being
naturally produces patience, hope, cheerful.
nefs, and all other difpofitions of mind, that
alleviate thoſe calamities which we are rot
able to remove.
The practice of this virtue adminiſters
great comfort to the mind of man in times
of poverty and afflictions, but moſt of all in
the hour of deanh. When the ſoul is hover.
ing in the laſt inoments of its feperation,
when it is juſt entering on another flate of
exiſtence, to converſe with ſcenes, and ob-
jects, and companions, that are altogether
new; what can ſupport her under ſuch
tremblings of thought, ſuch fear, ſuch anxi.
ety, ſuch apprehenſions, but the caſting of all
lier cares upon him who firſt gave her being,
who has conducted her through one ſtage of
it, and will be always with her to guide and
comfort her in her progreſs through eterni.
ty?


THE WORSHIP OF GOD. . 149
leaſt affinity to devotion. It is certain, the
propenſity of the mind to religious worſhip,
the natural tendency of the foul to fly to
Tome ſuperior Being for ſuccour in dangers
and diſtreſſes, the gratitude to an inviſible
Superintendent, which ariſes in us upon re-
ceiving any extraordinary and unexpected
good fortune, the acts of love and admiration
with which the thoughts of men are ſo won-
derfully tranſported, in meditating upon the
divine perfections, and the univerſal conçur,
rence of all the nations under heaven in the
great article of adoration, plainly ſhew that
devotion or religious worlhip muſt be the
effect of a tradition from fome firſt founder
of mankind, or that it is conformable to the
natural light of reaſon, or that it proceeds
from an initinct implanted in the ſoul itſelf.
For my part, I look upon all theſe to be the
concurrent cauſes ; but which ever of them
ſhall be aſſigned as the principle of divine
worſhip, it manifeſtly points to a Supreme
Being as the firſt author of it.
I may take fome other opportunity of con.
fidering thoſe particular forms and methods
of devotion which are taught us by Chriſ
tianity; but ſhall here obſerve into what er.
rors even this divine principle may ſome.
times lead us, when it is not moderated by
that right reaſon which was given us as the
guide of all our actions.
The two great errors into which a miſtak,
en devotion may betray us are enthuſiaſm
and ſuperſtition,
?
N 2


150
THE WORSHIP OF GOD.
There is not a more melancholy object
than a man who has his head turned with.
religious enthuſiaſm. A perſon that is crazed,
though with pride or malice, is a fight very
mortifying to human nature ; but when the
diftemper ariſes from any indiſcreet fervours
of devotion, or too intenſe an application of
the mind to its miſtaken duties, it deſerves
our compaſſion in a more particular manner.
We may however learn this leffon from it,
that ſince devotion itſelf (which one would
be apt to think could not be too warm) may
diſorder the mind, unleſs its heats are tem.
pered with caution and prudence, we ſhould
be particularly careful to keep our reafon as
cool as poflible, and to guard ourfelves in all
parts of life againſt the influence of paflion,
imagination, and conftitution.
Devotion, when it does not lie under the
check of reaſon, is very apt to degenerate in.
to enthusiaſın. When the mind finds her.
ſelf very much inflamed with her devotions,
the is too much inclined to think they are
not of her own kindling, but blown up with
ſomething divine within her. If the indulges
this thought too far, and humours the grow.
ing paflion, ſhe at laſt flings herſelf into im.
aginary raptures and ecſtacies; and when
once the fancies herſelf under the influence
of a divine impulſe, it is no wonder if the
flights human ordinances, and refufes to com.
ply with any eſtabliſhed form of religion, as
thinking herſelf directed by a much ſuperior
guide.


· THE WORSHIP OF GOD. 151
As enthuſiaſm is a kind of exceſs in devo.
tion, fuperftition is the exceſs not only of
devotion, but of religion in general; accord.
ing to an old Heathen ſaying, quoted by Au.
lus Gellius, Religentem elle oper!ct, religiofum ne-
fas; A man ſhould be religious, nct ſuper.
ftitious; for, as the author tells us, Nigidius
obſerved upon this paffage, that the Latin
words which terminate in ojus, generally im.
ply vicious characters, and the having of any
quality to an exceſs.
An enthuſiaſt in religion is like an obiti.
nate clown, a ſuperſtitious man like an infipid
courtier. Enthuſiaſm has ſomething in it of
madneſs, fuperftition of folly. Moit of the
fects that fall ſhort of the church of England
have in them ſtrong tinctures of enthuſiaſm,
as the Roman Catholic Religion is one huge
overgrown body of childih and idle ſuper-
ſtitions.
The Roman Catholic church ſeems indeed
irrecoverably loſt in this particular. If an
abſurd dreſs or behaviour be introduced in
the world, it will ſoon be found out and dif.
carded : on the contrary, a habit or ceremo.
ny, though never ſo ridiculous, which has
taken ſanctuary in the church, ſticks in it
for ever. A Gothic bifhop perhaps thought
it proper to repeat ſuch a form in ſuch par.
ticular ſhoes or ſlippers : another fancied it
would be very decent if ſuch a part of pub.
lic devotions were performed with a mitre
on his head, and a croſier in his hand : to this
a brother Vandal, as wife as the others, adds


192
THE WORSHIP OF GOD.
THE WORD
an antic dreſs, which he conceived would al-
lude very aptly to ſuch and ſuch myſteries,
till by degrees the whole office has degene.
rated into an empty ſhow. .
. Their fucccilors Tee the vanity and incon-
venience of thoſe ceremonies; but inſtead
of reforming, perhaps add others which they
think more ſignificant, and which take por
ſeſſion in the ſame manner, and are never to
be driven out after they have been once ad.
mitted. I have ſeen the Pope officiate at St.
Peter's, where, for two hours together, he
was buſied in putting on or off his different
accoutrements, according to the different
parts he was to act in thein.
Nothing is ſo glorious in the eyes of man.
kind, and ornamental to huinan nature, ſet.
ting aſide the infinite advantages which ariſe
from it, as a ſtrong, ſteady, maſculine piety;
but enthuſiaſm and ſuperſtition are the weak.
peſſes of human reaſon, that expoſe us to the
ſcorn and deriſion of infidels, and ſink us e.
ven below the beaſts that perih.
Idolatry may be looked upon as another
error ariſing from miſtaken devotion ; but
becauſe reflections on that ſubject would be
of no uſe to an Englih reader, I ſhall not en-
large upon it.
ܚܐ


THE WORSHIP OF GOD
153
Omnibus in terris, quae funt a Gadibus ufque
Auroram et Gangem, pauci dignofcere poffunt
Vera bona, atque illis multum diverfa, remota
Erroris nebula-
Juv. Sat. 10. I. 1.
Look round the habitable world, how few
Know their own good ; or, knowing it, purſue !
Dryden.
IN my laſt Saturday's paper I laid down
ſome thoughts upon devotion in general, and
ſhall here thew what were the notions of the
moſt refined Heathens on this ſubject, as they
are repreſented in Plato's dialogue upon pray.
er, entitled, Alcibiades the ſecond, which doubt-
leſs gave occaſion to Juvenal's tenth ſatire,
and to the ſecond fatire of Perſius ; as the
laſt of theſe authors has almoſt tranſcribed
the preceding dialogue, entitled, Alcibiades
the firſt, in his fourth fatire.
The ſpeakers in this dialogue upon prayer
are Socrates and Alcibiades, and the ſub-
ſtance of it (when drawn together out of
the intricacies and digreſſions) as follows :
Socrates meeting his pupil Alcibiades, az
he was going to his devotions, and obſerving
his eyes to be fixed upon the earth with
great ſeriouſneſs and attention, tells him,
that he had reaſon to be thoughtful on that
occaſion, ſince it was poſſible for a man to
bring down evils upon himſelf, by his own
prayers, and that thoſe things which the gods
ſend him in anſwer to his petitions might
turn to his deſtruction ; this, ſays he, may
not only happen when a man prays for what


154
THE WORSHIP OF GOD.
he knows is miſchievous in its own nature,
as Oedipus implores the gods to fow diffen.
fion between his fons, but when he prays for
what he believes would be for his good, and
againſt what he believes would be to his detri.
ment. This the philofopher ſhews muſt nec.
eſſarily happen among us, ſince moſt men are
blinded with ignorance, prejudice, or paſſion,
which hinder them from ſeeing ſuch things
as are really beneficial to them. For an in-
ſtance, he aſks Alcibiades, whether he would
not be thoroughly pleaſed and ſatisfied if
that God to whoin he was going to addreſs
himſelf, ſhould promiſe to make him the foy.
ereign of the whole earth! Alcibadies anſwers,
that he thould doubtleſs look upon ſuch a
promiſe as the greateſt favour that could be
bcitowed upon him. Socrates then aſks him,
if after receiving this great favour he would
be contented to loſe his life ? or if he would
receive it though he was ſure he ſhould
make an ill ufe of it? To both which queſ.
tions Alcibiades anſwers in the negative.
Socrates then ſhews him, from the examples
of others, how there might probably be the
effect of ſuch a bleffing. He then adds, that
other reputed pieces of good fortune, as that
of having a ſon, or procuring the higheſt poſt
in a government, are ſubject to the like fatal
conſequences ; which nevertheleſs, ſays he,
men ardently delire, and would not fail to
pray for, if they thought their prayers might
be effectual for the obtaining of them.
Having eſtablished this great point, that all


THE WORSHIP OF GOD. 155
the moſt apparent bleſſings in this life are ob-
noxious to ſuch dreadfull conſequences, and
that no man knows what in its events would
prove to him a bleſſing or a curſe, he teaches
Alcibiades after what manner he ought to
pray.
In the firſt place, he recommends to him,
as the model of his devotions, a ſhort prayer,
which a Greek poet compoſed for the uſe of
his friends, in the following words ; " O Ju.
piter ! give us thoſe things which are good
for us : whether they are ſuch things as we
pray for, or ſuch things as we do not pray
for ; and remove from us thote things which
are hurtful, though they are ſuch things as
we pray for.”
In the ſecond place, that his diſciple may
aſk ſuch things as are expedient for him, he
thews him, that it is abſolutely necceſſary to
apply himſelf to the ſtudy of true wiſdom,
and to the knowledge of that which is his
chief good, and the moſt ſuitable to the ex-
cellency of his nature. In the third and laſt
place, he informs him, that the beſt methods
he could make uſe of to draw down bleflings
upon himſelf, and to render his prayers ac-
ceptable, would be to live in a conſtant praca
tice of his duty towards the gods, and to.
wards men. Under this head he very much
recommends a form of prayer the Lacedemo-
nians made uſe of, in which they petition the
gods, “ to give them all good things, ſo long
as they were virtuous.” Under this head
likewiſe he gives a very remarkable account:
of an oracle to the following purpoſe.


156
THE WORSHIP OF GOD.
When the Athenians, in the war with the
Lacedemonians received many defeats both by
ſeaandland, they ſent a meſſage tothe Oracle of
Jupiter Ammon, to aſk the reaſon why they
who erected ſo many temples to the gods,
and adorned them with ſuch coſtly offerings,
why they who had inſtituted ſo many fefti.
vals, and accompanied them with ſuch pomps
and ceremonies ; in ſhort, why they who had
flain ſo many hecatombs at their altars, ſhould
be leſs ſucceſsful than the Lacedemonians,
who fell fo ſhort of them in all theſe particu.
lars. To this, ſays he, the oracle made the
following reply ; “ I am better pleaſed with
the prayer of the Lacedemonians than with
all the oblations of the Greeks.” As this
prayer implied and encouraged virtue in
thoſe who made it ; the philoſopher proceeds
to ſhew how the moſt vicious man miglit be
devout, ſo far as victims could make him,
but that his offerings were regarded by the
gods as bribes, and his petitions as blafphe-
mies. He likewiſe quotes on this occaſion
two verſes out of Homer, in which the poet
ſays, that the ſcent of the Trojan facrifices
was carried up to heaven by the winds ; but
that it was not acceptable to the gods, who
were diſpleaſed with Priam and all his peo-
ple.
The concluſion of this dialogue is very re.
markable. Socrates having deterred Alcibi.
ades from the prayers and ſacrifice he was go-
ing to offer by ſetting forth the above men-
tioned difficulties of performing that duty as


153
THE WORSHIP OF GOD.
able to the goodneſs of the divine Nature,
to ſend a perſon into the world who ſhould
inſtruct mankind in the duties of religion,
and, in particular, teach them how to
pray.
Whoever reads this abſtract of Plato's
diſcourſe on prayer, will I believe, natur-
ally make this reflection, that the great foun.
der of our religion, as well by his own ex-
ample, as in the form of prayer which he
taught his diſciples, did not only keep up to
thoſe rules which the light of nature had ſug-
geited to this great philoſopher, but inſtruct.
ed his diſciples in the whole extent of this
duty, as well as of all others. He directed
them to the proper object of adoration, and
taught them according to the third rule a.
bove mentioned, to apply themſelves to him
in their cloſets, without thew and oftenta.
tion ; and to worſhip him in ſpirit and in
truth. As the Lacedemonians in their form
of prayer implored the gods in general, to
give them all good things ſo long as they
were virtuous, we aſk in particular that our
offences may be forgiven us as we forgive
thoſe of oihers.” If we look into the second
rule which Socrates has preſcribed, namely,
that we ihould apply ourſelves to the knowl.
edge of ſuch things as are beſt for us, this too
is explained at large in the doctrines of the
goſpel, where we are taught in ſeveral inſtan.
ces to regard thoſe things as curſes, which
appear as bleſſings in the eye of the world ;
and on the contrary, to cíteem thoſe things
give them implored the monians in the


THE WORSHIP OF GOD.
159
as bleſſings, which to the generality of man-
kind appear as curſes. Thus, in the form
which is preſcribed to us, we only pray for
that happineſs which is our chief good, and
the great end of our exiſtence, when we pe.
tition the Supreme Being for “ the coming
of his kingdoin,” being ſolicitous for no
other temporal blefling but our daily ſuſten-
ance. On the other ſide, we pray againſt
nothing but fin, and againit evil in general,
leaving it with Omniſcience to determine
what is really ſuch. If we look into the firſt
of Socrates' rules of prayer, in which he re-
commends the abovementioned form of the
ancient poet, we find that form not only
comprehended, but very much improved in
the petition, wherein we pray to the Supreme
Being that 56 his will may be done :" which
is of the fame force with that form which
our Saviour ufed, when he prayed againſt
the molt ignominious of deaths; “ never-
theleſs not my will but thine be done." This
comprehenſive petition is the moſt humble,
as well as the molt prudent, that can be of-
fered up froin the creature to its Creator, as
it fuppoſes the Supreme Being wills nothing
but what is for our good, and that he knows
better than ourſelves what is ſo.


160
THE WORSHIP OF GOD.
Nequeo monſrare, et fentio tantum.
Juv. Sat. 7.1 56.
'Tis what I only feel, but can't expreſs.
IF there were no other confequence of it,
but barely that human creatures on this day
aſſemble themſelves before their Creator,
without regard to their uſual employments,
their minds at leiſure from the cares of this
life, and their bodies adorned with the beſt
attire they can beſtow on them ; I fay, were
this mere outward celebration of a Sabbath
all that is expected from men, even that were
a laudable diſtinction, and a purpoſe worthy
the human nature. But when there is add.
ed to it the ſublime pleaſure of devotion, cur
being is exalted above itſelf; and he who
ſpends a ſeventh day in the contemplation of
the next life will not eaſily fall into the cor-
ruptions of this in the other fix. They who
never admit thoughts of this kind into their
imaginations, loſe higher and fweeter ſatis-
factions than can be raifed by any other en-
tertainment. The moſt illiterate man who
is touched with devotion, and uſes frequent
exerciſes of it, contracts a certain greatnefi
of mind, mingled with a noble funplicity,
that raiſes him above thoſe of the ſame con-
dition ; and there is an indelible mark of
goodneſs in thoſe who fincerely poffefs it,
It is hardly poſſible it ſhould be otherwiſe ;
for the fervors of a pious mind will naturally
contract ſuch an earneftneſs and attention to..
wards a better being, as will make the ordi.


THE WORSHIP OF GOD. 161
nary paſſages of life go off with a becoining
indifference. By this a man in the loweſt
condition will not appear mean, or in the
moſt ſplendid fortune infolent.
As to all the intricacies and viciſſitudes un.
der which men are ordinarily entangled with
the utmoſt ſorrow and paflion, one who is
devoted to Heaven when he falls into ſuch
difficulties, is led by a clue through a labyr-
inth. As to this world he does not pretend
to ſkill in the mazes of it, but fixes his
thoughts upon one certainty, that he ſhall
foon be out of it. And we may aſk very
boldly, what can be a more ſure confolation
than to have an hope in death? When men
are arrived at thinking of their very diſſolu.
tion with pleaſure, how few things are there
that can be terrible to them? Certainly
nothing can be dreadful to ſuch fpirits, but
what would inake death terrible to them,
falfhood towards man, or impiety towards
Heaven. To ſuch as theſe, as there are cer-
tainly many ſuch, the gratifications of inno.
cent pleaſures are doubled, even with re-
fections upon their imperfection. The dif.
appointments wliich naturally attend the
great promiſes we make ourſelves in expected
enjoyments, ſtrike no damp upon ſuch men,
but only quicken their hopes of foon know-
ing joys, which are too pure to admit of al-
lay or ſatiety.
It is thought among the politer ſort of
mankind, an imperfection to want a reliſh of
any of thoſe things which refine our lives,
-
-
- -
-
-
- -
02


162
THE WORSHIP OF GOD.
This is the foundation of the acceptance
which eloquence, muſic and poetry make in
the world ; and I know not why devotion,
conſidered merely as an exaltation of our
happineſs, ſhould not at leaſt be fo far regard-
ed as to be conſidered. It is poſſible the ve-
ry inquiry would lead men into ſuch thoughts
and gratifications as they did not expect to
meet within this place. Many à good ac-
quaintance has been loſt from a general pre-
pofleffion in his disfavour, and a ſevere af.
pect has often hid under it a very agreeable
companion.
There are no diftinguithing qualities a-
mong men to which there are not falſe pre-
tenders : but though none is more pretendo
ed to than that of devotion, there are, per-
haps, fewer fucceſsful impoſtors in this kind
than any other. There is ſomething ſo na-
tively great and good in a perſon that is tru-
Jy devout, that an aukward man inay as well
pretend to be genteel, as an hypocrite to be
pious. The conſtraint in words and actions
are equally viſible ia both caſes, and any
thing let up in their room does but remove
the endeavours the farther off their preten.
fions. But however the ſenſe of true piety
is elated, there is no other motive of action
that can carry us through all the viciffitudes
of life with alacrity and reſolution. But pi-
ety, like philoſophy, when it is ſuperficial
does but make men appear the worfe for it ;
and a principle that is but half received, does:
but diftract, inftead of guiding our behave.


THE WORSHIP OF GOD. 103
iour. When I reflect upon the unequal con.
duct of Lotius, I ſee many things that run
directly counter to his intereſt ; therefore I
cannot attribute his labours for the public
good to ambition. When I conſider his diſ:
regard to his fortune, I cannot eſteem him
covetous. How then can I reconcile his neg:
lect of himſelf, and his zeal for others? I
have long ſuſpected him to be a little pious :
but no man ever hid his vice with greater
caution than he does his virtue. It was the
praiſe of a great Roman, that he had rath.
er be, than appear, good. But ſuch is the
weakneſs of Lotius, that I dare ſay, he had
rather be eſteemed irreligious than devout..
By I know not what impatience of railery:
he is wonderfully fearful of being thoughs
too great a believer. A hundred little de..
vices are made uſe of to hide a time of pri.
vate devotion ; and he will allow you any
fufpicion of his being ill employed, ſo you
do not tax him with being well. But alas !
how mean is ſuch a behaviour ? To boaſt
of virtue is a: moſt ridiculous way of diſap-
pointing the merit of it, but not ſo pitiful
as that of being alhamed of it. How. un-
happy is the wretch who makes the moſt ab.
folute and independent motive of action the
cauſe of perplexity and inconftancy? How
much another figure does Cælicola make
with all who know him ? His great and ſu-
perior mind, frequently exalted by the rap-
mures of heavenly meditation, is to all his
friends of the fame uſe as if an angel were:


164
THE WORSHIP OF GOD
to appear at the deciſion of their diſputes.
They very well underſtand he is as much
diſintereſted and unbiaſed as ſuch a being.
He conſiders all applications made to hiin, as
thoſe addreſſes will affect his own application
to Heaven. A!l his determinations are de.
livered with a beautiful humility ; and he
pronounces his deciſions with the air of one
who is more frequently a ſupplicant than a
judge.
Thus humble, and thus great, is the man
who is moved by piety, and exalted by de-
votion. But behold this recommended by
the maſterly hand of a great divine who I
have heretofore made bold with.
“ It is ſuch a pleaſure as can never cloy or
overwork the mind; a delight that grows
and improves under thought and reflexion,
and while it exerciſes, does alio endear it.
ſelf to the mind. All pleaſures that affect
the body muſt needs weary, becaufe they
tranſport ; and all tranfportation is a vio-
lence; and no violence can be lafting, but
deterinines upon the falling of the fpirits,
which are not able to keep up that height of
motion that the pleaſure of the ſenſes raiſes
them to. And therefore how inevitably
does an immoderate laughter end in a figh,
which is only nature's recovering itſelf after
a force done to it ; but the religious pleaſure
of a well-diſpoſed mind moves gently, and
therefore conſtantly. It does not effect by
rapture and extaſy, but is like the pleaſure
of health, greater and ſtronger than thofe


THE WORSHIP OF GOD
165
that call up the ſenſes with groffer and more
affecting impreſſions. No man's body is as
ſtrong as his appetites; but Heaven has cor-
rected the boundleſſneſs of his voluptuous
· deſires by ftinting his ſtrengths, and con-
tracting his capacities. The pleaſure of the
religious man is an eaſy and a portable pleaf-
ure, ſuch an one as he carries about in his
boſom, without alarming either the eye or
the envy of the world. A man putting all
his pleafures into this one, is like a traveller
putting all his goods into one jewel; the val.
ue is the ſame, and the convenience greater."
SECT. V.
ADVANTAGES OF REVELATION ABOVE.
NATURAL REASON.
quicquid dignum ſapiente bonoque eft.
Hor. Lib. I. Ep. 4 1. 5.
- What benefits the wife and good. CREECH,
· RELIGION may be conſidered under two
general heads. The firſt comprehends what
we are to believe, the other what we are to
practiſe. By thoſe things which we are to
believe, I mean whatever is revealed to us
in the holy writings, and which we could
not have obtained the knowledge of by the
light of nature ; by the things which we are
to practiſe, I mean all thoſe duties to which


166 ADVANTAGES OF REVELATION
we are directed by reaſon or natural religion.
The firſt of theſe I ſhall diſtinguiſh by the
name of faith, the ſecond by that of mo-
rality.
If we look into the more ſerious part of.
mankind we find many who lay fo great a
Itreſs upon faith, that they neglect morality;
and many who build ſo much upon moralicy,
that they do not pay a due regard to faith.
The perfect man hould be defective in nei.
ther of theſe particulars, as will be very ev-
ident to thoſe who conſider the benefits
which ariſe from each of them, and which
I ſhall make the ſubject of this day's paper.
Notwithſtanding this general diviſion of
Chriſtian duty into morality and faith, and
that they have both their peculiar excellen.
cies, the firſt has the pre-eminence in ſeveral
refpects.
Firſt, Becauſe the greateſt part of morali.
ty (as I have ſtated the notion of it) is of a
fixed eternal nature, and will endure when
faith ſhall fail, and be loſt in conviction.
Secondly, Becauſe a perſon inay be qualif-
ed to do greater good to mankind, and be-
come more beneficial to the world, by mo-
rality without faith, than by faith without
morality.
Thirdly, Becauſe morality gives a greater
perfection to human nature, by quieting the
mind, moderating the paſſions, and advanc.
ing the happineſs of every man in his private
capacity.
: Fourthly, Becauſe the rule of morality is
refpects.


ABOVE NATURAL REASON.
167
much more certain than that of faith : all
the civilized nations in the world agreeing
in the great points of morality as much as
they differ in thoſe of faith.
Fifthly, Becauſe infidelity is not of ſo ma-
lignant a nature as immorality ; or, to put
the faine reaſon in another light, becauſe it
is generally owned there may be falvation for
a virtuous infidel, (particularly in the caſe of
invincible ignorance, but none for a vicious
believer.
· Sixthly, becauſe faith ſeems to draw its
principle, if not all its excellency, from the
influence it has upon morality; as we ſhall
fee more at large, if we conſider wherein
conſiſts the excellency of faith, or the belief
of revealed religion ; and this I think is,
Firſt, In explaining and carrying to great-
er heights ſeveral points of morality.
Secondly, In furniſhing new and ſtronger
motives to enforce the practice of morality.
Thirdly, in giving us more amiable ideas
of the Supreme Being, more endearing no.
tions of one another, and a truer ſtate of
ourſelves, both in regard to the grandeur
and vileneſs of our natures.
Fourthly, By ſhewing us the blackneſs and
deformity of vice, which, in the Chriſtian
ſyſtem, is ſo very great, that he who is pof.
fefſed of all perfection, and the ſovereign
Judge of it, is repreſented by ſeveral of our
divines, as haring fin to the fame degree that
he loves the acred perſon who was made the
propitiation of it.


468 ADVANTAGES OF REVELATION
Fifthly, In being the ordinary and pre-
{cribed method of making morality effectual
to ſalvation.
I have only touched on theſe ſeveral heads,
which every one who is converſant in dif.
courſes of this nature will eaſily enlarge up.
on in his own thoughts, and draw conclu.
fions from them wliich may be uſeful to him
in the conduct of his life. One, I am ſure,
is ſo obvious that he cannot miſs it, namely,
that a man cannot be perfect in his ſcheme
of morality who does not ſtrengthen and
ſupport it with that of the Chriſtian faith.
Befides this, I ſhall lay down two or three
other maxiins, which, I think, we may de-
duce from what has been ſaid.
Firſt, That we ſhould be particularly cau.
tious of making any thing an article of faith
which does not contribute to the confirma-
tion or improvement of morality.
Secondly, That no article of faith can be
true and authentic which weakens or ſub-
verts the practical part of religion, or what
1 have hitherto called morality.
Thirdly, That the greateſt friend of mo.
rality, or natural religion, cannot poſſibly
apprehend any danger from embracing Chrif.
tianity, as it is preſerved pure and uncorrupt
in the doctrines of our national church.
There is likewiſe another maxim, which
I think may be drawn from the foregoing
confiderations, which is this, that we ſhould
in all dubious points, conſider any ill conſe-
quences that may ariſe from them, fuppofing


ABOVE NATURAL REASON.
169
they ſhould be erroneous, before we give up
our afſent to them.
For example, in that diſputable point of
perfecuting men for conſcience fake, beſides
the embittering their minds with hatred, in-
dignation, and ail the vehemence of reient-
ment, and enſnaring them to profefs what
they do not believe, we cut them off from
the pleaſures and advantages of ſociety, af.
flict their bodies, diſtreſs their fortunes, hurt
their reputations, ruin their families, make
their lives painful, or put an end to them. ,
Sure when I ſee ſuch dreadful conſequences
riſing from a principle, I would be as fully
convinced of the truth of it as of a mathe-
inatical demonſtration, before I would ven.
ture to act upon it, or make it a part of my
religion..
In this cale the injury done our neighbour
is plain and evident; the principle that puts
us upon doing it of a dubious and diſputable
nature. Morality ſeems highly violated by
the one ; and whether or no a zeal for what
a man thinks the true fyftem of faith may
juſtify it, is very uncertain. I cannot but
think, if our religion produce charity, as
well as zeal, it will not be for ſhewing itſelf
by ſuch cruel inſtances. But to conclude
with the words of an excellent author,
“ We have juſt enough religion to make us
hate, but not enough to make us love one
another."


*70 ADVANTAGES OF REVELATION
The fewer things we want the more we reſemble God.
IT was the common boaft of the Heathen
philoſophers, that by the efficacy of their
ſeveral doctrines, they made human nature
reſemble the divine. How much miſtaken fo.
ever they might be in the feveral means they
propoſed for this end, it muſt be owned
that the deſign was great and glorious. The
fineſt works of invention and imagination
are of very little weight when put in the
balance with what refines and exalts the ra-
tional mind. Longinus excuſes Homer very
handſomely, when he ſays, the poet made
his gods like men, that he might make his
men appear like the gods. But it muſt be
allowed that ſeveral of the ancient philoſo.
phers acted as Cicero wiſhes Homer had
done : they endeavoured rather to make
men like gods than gods like men.
According to this general maxim in phi.
lofophy, fome of them have endeavoured to
place men in ſuch a ſtate of pleaſure, or in-
dolence at leaſt, as they vainly imagined the
happineſs of the Supreme Being to confift in.
On the other hand, the moſt virtuous ſect of
philoſophers have created a chimerical wiſe
man, whom they made exempt from paffion
and pain, and thought it enough to pronounce
him all-ſufficient.
This laſt character, when diveſted of the
glare of human philoſophy that ſurrounds it,
ſignifies no more than that a good and wiſe
man ſhould ſo arm himſelf with patience as


ABOVE NATURAL REASON.
171
and wife which I mie facred when
not to yield tamely to the violence of paf.
fion and pain ; that he ſhould learn ſo to
ſuppreſs and contract his deſires as to have
few wants ; and that he thould cheriſh fo
many virtues in his ſoul as to have a perpet.
ual ſource of pleaſure in himſelf.
The Chriftian religion requires, that after
having framed the beſt idea we are able of
the divine nature, it fliould be our next care
to conform ourſelves to it as far as our im.
perfections will permit. I might mention
ſeveral paſſages in the facred writings on this
head, to which I might add many maxims
and wiſe ſayings of moral authors among
the Greeks and Romans.
I ſhall only inſtance a remarkable paſſage
to this purpoſe out of Julian's Cæſars. The
einperor having repreſented all the Roman
emperors, with Alexander, the Great, as
pafling in review before the gods, and itriv.
ing for the fuperiority, lets them all drop,
excepting Alexander, Julius Caefar, Auguſ.
tus Cælar, Trajan, Marcus Aurelius, and
Conſtantine. Each of theſe great heroes of
antiquity lays in his claim for the upper
place : and, in order to it, fets forth his ac.
tions after the nioſt advantageous manner.
But the gods, inttead of being dazzled with
the luſtre of their actions, enquire, by Mer-
cury, into the proper motive and governing
principle that influenced them throughout
the whole ſeries of their lives and exploits.
Alexander tells them that his aim was to
conquer ; Julius Cear, that his was to gain


172 ADVANTAGES OF REVELATION
the higheſt poſt in his country ; Auguftus, to
govern weli; Trajan, that his was the fame
as that of Alexander, namely, to conquer.
The queſtion at length was put to Marcus
Aurelius, who replied with great modeſty,
that it had always been his care to imitate
the gods. This conduct ſeems to have gain.
ed hin the moft votes, and beſt place in the
whole aſſembly. Marcus Aurelius being af.
terwards aſked to explain himſelf, declares,
that by imitating the gods, he endeavoured
to imitate them in the uſe of his under.
ftanding, and of all other faculties; and in
particular, that it was always his ſtudy to
have as few wants as poſſible in himſelf, and
to do all the good he could to others.
Among the many methods by which re.
vealed religion has advanced morality, this
is one, that it has given us a more juſt and
perfect idea of that Being whom every rea-
ſonable creature ought to imitate. The
young man in a Ileathen comedy night juſ.
iify his lewdneſs by the example of Jupiter :
as indeed there was ſcarce any crime that
night not be countenanced by thoſe notions
of the Deity which prevailed among the
common people in the Heathen world. Re.
vealed religion ſets forih a proper object for
imitation, in that Being who is the pattern,
as well as the ſource, of all ſpiritual perfec-
tion.
While we remain in this life we are ſub.
ject to innumerable temptations, which, if
liſtened to, will make us deviate from reaſon


ABOVE NATURAL REASON.
173
and goodneſs, the only things wherein we
can imitate the Supreme B.ing. In the next
life we meet with nothing to excite our in-
clinations that doth not defurve them. I
ſhall therefore diliniſs my reader with this
maxim, viz. “ Our happineſs in this world
proceeds from the ſuppreſſion of our deſires,
but in the next world from the gratification
of them.”
- Quis enim virtutem ample&itur ipfam,
Præmia fi tollas ?
Juv. Sat x. I. 141,
For who would virtue, for herſelf, regard,
Or wed, without the portion of reward? Dryden.
IT is uſual with polemical writers to ob.
ject ill deſigns to their adverſaries. This
turns their argument into fatire, which, in.
ſtead of fhewing an error in the underſtand.
ing, tends only to expoſe the morals of thoſe
they write againſt. I ſhall not act after this
manner with reſpect to the free-thinkers.
Virtue, and the happineſs of ſociety, are the
great ends which all men ought to promote,
and ſome of that fect would be thought to
have at heart above the reſt of mankind.
But ſuppoſing thoſe who make that profel-
fion to carry on a good deſign in the ſim..
plicity of their hearts, and according to their
beſt knowledge, yet it is much to be feared
thoſe well-meaning ſouls, while they endeav,
P 2


174 ADVANTAGES OF REVELATION
oured to recommend virtue, have in reality
been advancing the intereſts of vice, which,
as I take to procecd from their ignorance of
human nature, we may hope, when they
become ſenſible of their miſtake, they will,
in conſequence of that beneficent principle
they pretend to act upon, reform their prac-
tice for the future.
The fages, whom I have in my eye, fpeak
of virtue as the moſt amiable thing in the
world ; but at the ſame time that they extol
her beauty, they take care to leſſen her por-
tion. Such innocent creatures are they, and
ſo great ſtrangers to the world, that they
think this a likely method to increaſe the
number of her admirers.
Virtue has in herſelf the moſt engaging
charins ; and Chriſtianity, as it places her in
the ſtrongeſt light, and adorned with all her
native attractions, fo it kindles a new fire in
the foul, by adding to them the unutterable
rewards which attend her votaries in an e-
ternal ſtate. Or, if there are men of a fat-
urnine and heavy complexion, who are not
eaſily lifted up by hope, there is the proſpect
of everlaſting puniſhinent to agitate their
fouls, and frighten them into the practice of
virtue, and an averfion from vice.
Whereas your füber free-thinkers tell you
that virtue indeed is beautiful, and vice de.
formed; the former deſerves your love, and
the latter your abhorrence : but then it is
for their own fake, or on account of the
good and evil whichimmediately attend them,


ABOVE NATURAL REASON.
175
and are inſeparable from their reſpective na-
tures. As for the immortality of the foul, or e-
ternal puniſhments and rewards, thoſe are 0.
penly ridiculed, or rendered ſuſpicious by the
moſt fly and laboured artifice.
I will not ſay thefe men act treacherouſly
in the cauſe of virtue : but will any one de.
ny that they act fooliſhly who pretend to ad.
vance the intereſts of it by deſtroying or
weakening the ſtrongeſt motives to it, which
are accommodated to all capacities, and fit-
ted to work on all difpofitions, and enforcing
thoſe alone which can affect only a generous.
and exalted mind?
Surely they muſt be deſtitute of paſſion
themſelves, and unacquainted with the force
it hath on the minds of others, who can im.
agine that the mere beauty of fortitude, tem-
perance, and juſtice, is ſufficient to ſuſtain:
the mind of man in a ſevere courſe of ſelf..
denial againſt all the temptations of preſent
profit and fenfuality.
It is my opinion, the free-thinkers ſhould
be treated as a ſet of poor ignorant creatures,
that have not ſenſe to diſcover the excellency
of religion : it being evident thoſe men are
no witches ; nor likely to be guilty of any
deep deſign, who proclaim aloud to the
world that they have leſs motives of honeſty
than the reſt of their fellow fubjects ; who
have all the inducements to the exerciſe of
any virtue which a free-thinker can poſſibly
have ; and beſides, the expectation of never.
ending happineſs or miſery, as the conſe,
quence of their choice.


ABOVE NATURAL REASON.
177
this life : yet titles, eſtates, and fantaſtical
pleaſures are more ardently fought after by
moſt men than the natural gratifications of
a reaſonable mind; and it cannot be denied
that virtue and innocence are not always the
readieſt methods to attain that ſort of hap-
pinefs. Beſides, the fumes of paſſion muſt
be allayed, and reafon muſt burn brighter
than ordinary, to enable men to ſee and rel.
ith all the native beauties and delights of a
virtuous life. And though we ſhould grant
our free-thinkers to be a ſet of refined fpir-
its capable only of being enamoured of vir-
tue, yet what would become of the bulk of
mankind, who have groſs underſtandings,
but lively fenſes and ſtrong paſſions ? What
a deluge of luft, and fraud, and violence,
would, in a little time, overflow the whole
nation, if theſe wiſe advocates for morality
were univerſally hearkened to? Laſtly, op.
portunities do ſometimes offer, in which a
mai may wickedly make his fortune, or in-
dulge a pleaſure, without fear of temporal
damage, either in reputation, health, or for-
tune. In ſuch caſes, what reſtraint do they
lie under who have no regards beyond the
grave ? che inward compunctions of a wick-
ed, as well as the joys of an upright mind,
being grafted on the ſenſe of another ſtate.
The thought that our exiſtence terminates
with this life doth naturally check the foul
in any generous purſuit, contract her views,
and fix them on temporary and ſelfiih ends.
It dethrones the reaſon, extinguiſhes all no:


178 ADVANTAGES OF REVELATION
ble and heroic ſentiments, and ſubjects the
mind to the ſlavery of every preſent paſſion.
The wiſe Heathens of antiquity were not ig.
norant of this ; hence they endeavoured,
by fables and conjectures, and the glimmer.
ings of nature, to poſſeſs the minds of men
with the belief of a future ſtate, which has
been lince brought to light by the goſpel, and
is now inoſt inconſiſtently decried by a few
weak men, who would have us believe that
they promote virtue by turning religion into
ridicule.
bowledge, lation to the Heathe
Mens agitat molom ---Virg. Æn. vi. l. 727.
God actuates this univerſal frame.
TO one who regards things with a philo-
ſophical eye, and hath a foul capable of be-
ing delighted with the ſenſe that truth and
knowledge prevail among men, it muſt be a:
grateful reflection to think that the ſublimeft:
truths which among the Heathens, only here
and there, one of brighter parts, and more
leiſure than ordinary, could attain to, are
now grown fainiliar to the ineaneft inhabit.
ants of theſe nations.
Whence came this ſurpriſing change, that
regions formerly inhabited by ignorant and
ſavage people ſhould now outſhine ancient
Greece, and the other eaſtern countries, ſo
renowned of old, in the inoſt elevated no-
tions of theology and morality? Is it the
effect of our own parts and induſtry? Have


ABOVE NATURAL REASON.
1979
himſelf outwe profefs morete mankind.
our common mechanics more refined under-
ſtanding than the ancient philoſophers? It
is owing to the God of truth, who came
down from heaven, and condeſcended to be
himſelf our teacher. It is as we are Chril-
tians, that we profefs more excellent and die
vine truths than the reſt of mankind.
If there be any of the free-thinkers who
are not direct Atheiſts, charity would incline
one to believe them ignorant of what is here
advanced. And it is for their information
that I write this paper ; the deſign of which
is to compare the ideas that Chriſtians enter-
tain of the being and attributes of a God, with
the grofs notions of the Heathen world. Is
it poſſible for the mind of man to conceive
a more auguſt idea of the Deity than is fet
forth in the holy ſcriptures ? I ſhall throw
together fome paſſages relating to this ſub.
ject, which I propoſe only, as philofophical
ſentiments, to be conſidered by a free think.
ér.
“ Though there be that are called gods,
yet to us there is but one God. He made
the heaven, and heaven of heavens, with
all their hoſt; the earth, and all things that
are therein ; the feas, and all that is therein.
He ſaid, let them be, and it was fo. He had
ſtretched forth the heavens. He hath found.
ed the earth, and hung it upon nothing.
He hath ſhut up the fea with doors, and ſaid
hitherto ſhalt thou come, and no further ;
and here ſhall thy proud waves be ſtayed.
The Lord is an inviſible fpirit, in whom we
live, and move, and have our being. He is


ABOVE NATURAL REASON.
181
our cloſet, and ſhut our door, he ſeeth us.
He knoweth the things that come into our
mind, every one of them : and no thought
can be with holden from him. The Lord is
good to all, and his tender mercies are over
all his works. He is a Father of the father.
leſs, and a Judge of the widow. He is the
God of peace, the Father of mercies, and
the God of all comfort and confolation. The
Lord is great, and we know him not ; his
greatneſs is unſearchable. Who but he hath
meaſured the waters in the hollow of his
hand, and meted out the heavens with a
ſpan? Thine, O Lord, is the greatneſs, and
the power, and the glory, and the victory,
and the majeſty. Thou art very great, thou
art clothed with honour. Heaven is thy
throne, and the earth is thy footſtool."
Can the mind of a philoſopher riſe to a
more jut and inagnificent, and at the ſame
time, a more amiable idea of the Deity, than
is here ſet forth in the ſtrongeſt images and
moſt emphatical language ? and yet this is
the language of ſhepherds and fiſhermen.
The illiterate Jews and poor perſecuted
Chriſtians retained theſe noble ſentiments,
while the polite and powerful nations of the
earth were given up to that fottiſh fort of
worſhip of which the following elegant de.
ſcription is extracted from one of the inſpir-
ed writers.
" Who hath formed a god, or molten an
image that is profitable for nothing? The
finith with the tongs both worketh in the


182 ADVANTAGES OF REVELATION
coals, and faſhioneth it with hammers, and
worketh it with the ſtrength of his arms;
yea he is hungry and his ſtrength faileth.
He drinketh no water and is faint. A man
planteth an alh, and the rain doth nouriſh
it. He burneth part thereof in the fire.
He roaſteth roaft. He warmeth himſelf.
And the refidue thereof he maketh a god.
He falleth down unto it, and worſhippeth
it, and prayeth unto it, and faith, Deliver
me ; for thou art iny god. None confider-
eth in his heart, I have burned part of it in
the fire, yea alſo, I have baked bread upon
the coals thereof : I have roaſted fleſh and
caten it : and ſhall I make the reſidue there-
of an abomination ? Thall I fall down to the
ſtock of a tree ?”
In ſuch circumſtances as theſe, for a man
to declare for free-thinking, and diſengage
himſelf from the yoke of idolatry, were do-
ing honour to human nature, and a work
well becoming the great aſſerters of reaſon.
But in a church, where our adoration is
directed to the Supreme Being, and (to ſay
the leaft) where is nothing either in the ob.
ject or manner of worſhip that contradicts
the light of nature, there, under the pre-
tence of free-thinking, to rail at the reli-
gious inftitutions of their country, ſheweth
an undiſtinguiſhing genius that miſtakes op-
poſition for freedom of thought. And, in.
deed, notwithſtanding the pretences of foine
few among our free-thinkers, I can hardly
think there are unen ſo ſtupid and inconfift.


ABOVE NATURAL REASON.
183
ent with themſelves as to have a ſerious re-
gard for natural religion, and at the ſame
time uſe their utmoſt endeavours to deſtroy
the credit of thoſe facred writings, which as
they have been the means of bringing theſe
parts of the world to the knowledge of nat.
ural religion, ſo in cafe they loſe their au.
thority over the minds of men, we ſhould
of courſe ſink into the ſame idolatry which
we ſee practiſed by other unenlightened na-
tions.
If a perſon, who exerts himſelf in the
modern way of free-thinking, be not a ftu.
pid idolater, it is undeniable, that he con-
tributes all he can to the making other men
fo, either by ignorance or deſign ; which
lays him under the dilemma, I will not ſay
of being a fool or knave, but of incurring
the contempt or deteftation of mankind.


EXCELLENCY OF THE
SECT. VI.
EXCELLENCY OF THE CHRISTIAN IN-
STITUTION.
Aptiſima queque dabunt dü
Charior ejl illis homo, quam fibi— Juv. S. 101. 347.
-The gods will grant
What their unerring wiſdom ſees thee want :
In goodoeſs, as in greatneſs they excel ;
Ah that we lov'd ourfelyes but half ſo well !
Dryder.
IT is owing to pride, and a fecret affecta-
tion of a certain ſelf-exiſtence, that the nobleft
motive for action that ever was propoſed to
man, is not acknowledged the glory and
happineſs of their being. The heart is
treacherous to itſelf, and we do not let our
reflections go deep enough to receive religion
as the moſt honourable incentive to good and
worthy actions. It is our natural weakneſs,
to flatter ourſelves into a belief, that if we
ſearch into our inmoſt thoughts, we find
eurſelves wholly diſintereſted, and diveſted
of any views arifing from ſelf-love and vain
glory. But however ſpirits of ſuperficial
greatneſs may diſdain at firſt ſight to do any
thing, but from a noble impulſe in them.
felves, without any future regards in this or
another being : upon ſtricter inquiry they
will find to act worthily and expect to be
rewarded only in another world, is as hero-
ic a pitch of virtue as human nature can ar.
rive at. If the tenor of our actions have a.
ny other motive, than the deſire to be pleaf-


CHRISTI.IN INSTITUTION. 18;
ing in the eye of the Deity, it will neceſſari-
ly follow that we muſt be more than men,
if we are not too much exalted in proſperity,
and depreſſed in adverſity ; but the Cbril-
tian world has a leader, the contemplation
of whoſe life and ſufferings muſt adminiſter
comfort in affliction, while the ſenſe of his
power and omnipotence muſt give them hu-
miliation in proſperity.
It is owing to the forbidden and unlovely
conſtraint with which men of low concep-
tions act when they think they conform
themſelves to religion, as well as to the more
odious conduct of hypocrites, that the word
Chriſtian does not carry with it, at firſt view,
all that is great, worthy, friendly, generous,
and heroic. The man who ſuſpends his
hopes of the reward of worthy actions till
after death, who can beſtow unſeen, who
can overlook hatred, do good to his ſlander-
er, who can never be angry at his friend,
never revengeful to his enemy, is certainly
formed for the benefit of ſociety ; yet theſe
are ſo far from heroic virtues, that they are
but the ordinary duties of a Chriftian.
When a man with a ſteady faith, looks
back on the great cataſtrophe of this day,
with what bleeding emotions of heart muſt
be contemplate the life and ſufferings of his
Deliverer ? When his agonies occur to him,
how will he weep to reflect that he has often
forgot them for the glance of a wanton, for
the applauſe of a vain world, for an heap of
Q 2


186
EXCELLENCY OF THE
fleeting paſt pleaſures, which are at preſent
aching forrons !
How pleaſing is the contemplation of the
lowly ſteps our Almighty Leader took in
conducting us to his heavenly manſions! In
plain and apt parable, fimilitude, and allego.
ry, our great Maſter enforced the doctrine
of our fálvation ; but they of his acquaint.
ance, inſtead of receiving what they could
not oppofe, were offended at the preſumption
of being wifer than they : they could not
raiſe their little ideas above the confideration
of him, in thoſe circumſtances familiar to
them, or conceive that he who appeared not
more terrible or pompous, fhould have any
thing more exalted than themſelves ; he in
that place therefore would not longer inef.
fectually exert a power which was incapable
of conquering the prepoſſeſſion of their nar.
row and mean conceptions.
Multitudes followed him, and brought
him the dumb, the blind, the fick, and
maimed; whom when their Creator had
touched, with a ſecond life they faw, ſpoke,
leaped, and ran. In affection to him, and
admiration of his actions, the crowd could
not leave him, but waited near him till they
were almoſt as faint and helplefs as others
they brought for fuccour. He had compaſ-
fion on them, and by a miracle fupplied their
neceflities. Oh ! the ecſtatic entertainment,
when they could behold their food immedi.
ately increaſe to the diſtributer's hand, and
fee their God in perfon feeding and refreſh.


CHRISTIAN REVELATION.
187
ing his creatures! Oh envied happineſs!
But why do I ſay envied ? as if our God did
not ſtill preſide over our temperate meals,
chearful hours, and innocent converſations.
But though the ſacred ſtory is every where
full of miracles not inferior to this, and
though in the midſt of thoſe acts of divinity
he never gave the leaſt hint of a deſign to
become a ſecular Prince, yet had not hither, Y
to the apoſtles themſelves any other hopes
than of wordly power, preferment, riches.
and pomp ; for Peter, upon an accident of
ambition among the apoſtles, hearing his
Mafter explain that his kingdom was not of
this world, was ſo ſcandalized, that he, whom
he had ſo long followed, ſhould ſuffer the
ignominy, ſhame, and death which he fore-
told, that he took him aſide, and faid, “ Be
it far from thee, Lord ! this ſhall not be un.
to thee :" for which he ſuffered a fevere rep-
rehenſion from his Maſter, as having in his
view the glory of man rather than that of
God.
The great change of things began to draw
near, when the Lord of nature thought fit.
as a Saviour and Deliverer to make his pub,
lic entry into Jeruſalem with more than the
power of joy, but none of the oftentation
and pomp of a triumph; he came humble,
meek, and lowly , with an unfelt new exta-
fy, multitudes ſtrewed his way with gar,
ments and olive branches, crying with loud
gladneſs and acclamation, “ Hoſannah to the
fon of David, bleſſed is he that cometh in
Eestissons


188
EXCELLENCY OF THE
the name of the Lord !” At this great King's
acceflion to his throne, men were not enno.
bled, but laved ; crimes were not remitted,
but fins forgiven; he did not beftow medals,
honours, favours, but health, joy, fight,
fpeech. The firſt object the blind ever law,
was the author of fight; while the lame ran
before, and the dumb repeated the Hofan-
nah. Thus attended, he entered into his
own houſe, the ſacred temple, and, by his
divine authority, expelled traders and world-
lings that profaned it ; and thus did he, for
a time, ule a great and defpotic power, to
let unbelievers underſtand, that it was not
want of, but fuperiority to, all worldly do.
minion, that made him not exert it. But
is this then the Saviour ? is this the Deliver.
er ? Thall this obfcure Nazarene command Il-
rael, and fit on the throne of David ? Their
proud and diſdainful hearts, which were pe-
trified with the love and pride of this world,
were impregnable to the reception of fo
mean a benefactor, and were now enough
exaſperated with benefits to confpire his
death. Our Lord was ſenſible of their de
fign, and prepared his diſciples for it, by re-
counting to them now more diftinctly what
ſhould befal him ; but Peter, with an un-
grounded reſolution, and in a fluſh of tem.
per, made a fanguine proteſtation, that
though all men were offended in him, yet
would not he be offended. It was a great
article of our Saviour's buſineſs in the world,
to bring us to a ſenſe of our inability, with


STIAN INSTITUTION.
191
IXCELLENCY
tures of the being and genta
ity, to poſſeſs their
a future ſtate, and
nature of every
likewiſe to pers
of thein by
motives, jo
to the ye
190
but
out Go
the other day, (which,
sing the title, will on
or good
thought
E he thoughts of thoſe
that the
pinſinuate by that
hould d
alhamed openly
" But
5 by two points
tongue y
She aims at.
der, buf
he word
do they
reader
carry my
my God
very inju
the Lord
blacken, many Winnes, and Teart heaves
with pity and with agony! Oh Almighty
Sufferer look down, look down from thy
triumphant infamy : lo, he inclines his head
to his ſacred bufom! hark, he groans ! ſee,
he expires ! The earth treinbles, the temple
rends, the rocks burſt, the dead ariſe : which
are the quick ? which are the dead ! Sure
nature, all nature is departing with her Cre.
ator."
IF to inform the underſtanding and regu.
late the will, is the moſt laſting and diffuſive
benefit, there will not be found ſo uſeful
and excellent an inſtitution as that of the
Chriſtian prieſthood which is now become
the ſcorn of fools. That a numerous order
of men ſhould be conſecrated to the ſtudy of
the moſt ſublime and beneficial truths, with
a deſign to propagate them by their diſcourf-
es and writings, to inform their fellow.crea.


188
EXCELLENCY OF T THE
the name of the Lord !” (tributes of the De.
acceſſion to his throne,ands with the ſenſe of
bled, but ſaved ; cri not only to explain the
but fins forgiven wirtue and moral duty, but
honours, favoviuade mankind to the practice
fpeech. Theche moſt powerful and engaging
was the aus a thing to excellent and neceſſary
before, well being of the world, that no body
nah. a modern free-thinker could have the
owrehead or foily to turn it into ridicule..
' The light in which theſe points ſhould be
expoſed to the view of one who is prejudic-
ed againſt the names, religion, church, prieſt,
and the like, is, to conſider the clergy as ſo
many philofophers, the churches as ſchools,
and their ſermons as lectures, for the infor.
mation and improvement of the audience.
How would the heart of Socrates or Tully
have rejoiced, had they lived in a nation,
where the law had made proviſion for phi-
loſophers to read lectures of morality and
theology every ſeventh day, in ſeveral thou.
ſands of ſchools erected at the public charge
throughout the whole country, at which lec-
tures all ranks and ſexes, without diſtinction,
were obliged to be preſent for their general
improvement ? And what wicked wretches
would they think thoſe men, who ſhould en-
deavour to defeat the purpoſe of fo divine
an inſtitution?
It is indeed uſual with that low tribe of
writers, to pretend their deſign is only to
reform the church, and expoſe the vices and
not the order of the clergy. The author of


CHRISTIAN INSTITUTION.
191
a pamphlet printed the other day, (which,
without my mentioning the title, will on
this occaſion occur to the thoughts of thoſe
who have read it) hopes to infinuate by that
artifice what he is afraid or aſhamed openly
to maintain. But there are two points
which clearly ſhew what it is he aims at.
The firſt is, that he conftantly uſes the word
prieſt in ſuch a manner, as that his reader
cannot but obſerve he means to throw an o-
dium on the clergy of the church of Eng-
land, from their being called by a name
which they enjoy in common with Heathens
and Impofters. The other is, his raking to-
gether and exaggerating with great ſpleen
and induſtry, all thoſe actions of churchmen,
which either by their own illneſs, or the bad
light in which he places them, tend to give
men an ill impreſſion of the diſpenſers of the
Goſpel : all which he pathetically ad.
dreſſes to the conſideration of his wife and
honeſt countryınan of the laity. The foph.
iftry and ill-breeding of theſe proceedings
are ſo obvious to men who liave any pretence
to that character, that I need ſay no more ei.
ther of them or their author.


192
DIGNITY OF THE
DIGNITY OF THE SCRIPTURE LANGUAGE.
With hymos divine the joyous banquet ends ;
The Peans lengthen'd till the ſun defcends :
The Greeks reſtor'd the grateful notes prolong ;
Apollo liſtens, and approves the ſong. POPE.
- THERE is a certain coldneſs and indiffer-
ence in the phraſes of our European langua.
ges, when they are compared with the Ori.
ental forms of ſpeech : and it happens very
luckily, that the Hebrew idioms run into the
Englith tongue with a particular grace and
beauty. Our language has received innu.
merable elegancies and improvements, from
that infufion of Hebraiſms, which are deriv-
ed to it out of the poetical paſſages in holy
writ. They give a force and energy to our
expreſſions, warm and animate our language,
and convey our thoughts in more ardent and
intenſe phraſes, than any that are to be met
with in our own tongue.
There is ſomething ſo pathetic in this kind
of diction, that it often ſets the mind in a
Alame, and makes our hearts burn within us.
How cold and dead does a prayer appear,
that is compoſed in the moſt elegant and po.
lite forms of ſpeech, which are natural to our
tongue, when it is not heightened by that
folemnity of phraſe, which may be drawn
from the ſacred writings. It has been ſaid
by ſome of the ancients, that if the gods
were to talk with men, they would certain.
ly ſpeak in Plato's ſtyle; but I think we may
fay with juſtice, that when mortals converte


SCRIPTURE LANGUAGE.
195
worſhip, but that their moſt favourite di-
verſions were filled with fongs and hymns to
their reſpective deities. Had we frequent
entertainments of this nature among us,
they would not a little purify and exalt our
paffions, give our thoughts a proper turn,
and cheriſh thoſe divine impulſes in the ſoul,
which every one feels that has not ſtifled-
them by ſenſual and immoderate pleaſures.
Muſic, when thus applied, raiſes noble
hints in the mind of the hearer, and fills it
with great conceptions. It ſtrengthens de.
votion, and advances praiſe into rapture. It
lengthens out every act of worſhip, and pro-
duces more laſting and permanent impreſ-
fions in the mind, than thoſe which accom.
pany any tranſient form of words that are
uttered in the ordinary method of religious
worſhip.
Fungar inani :
Munere --
Virg. Æn. vi. I. 835..
An unavailing duły I diſcharge.
DR. TILLOTSON, in his diſcourſe con.
cerning the danger of all known fin, both
from the light of nature and revelation, af.
ter having given us the deſcription of the
laſt day out of holy writ, has this remarka-
ble paſſage..


SCRIPTURE LANGUAGE.
199
As for my part, when I have happened to
attend the corpſe of a friend to his inter-
ment, and have ſeen a graceful man at the
entrance of a church-yard, who became the
dignity of his function, and aſſumed an au-
thority which is natural to truth, pronounce,
56 I am the reſurrection and the life : he that
believeth in me, though he were dead, yet
ſhall he live ; and whoſoever liveth, and be.
lieveth in me, thall never die :" I ſay, upon
ſuch an occaſion, the retroſpect upon paſt
actions between the deceaſed, whom I fol-
lowed, and myſelf, together with the many
little circumſtances that ſtrike upon the loui,
and alternately give grief and confolation,
have vaniſhed like a dream; and I have
been relieved as by a voice from heaven,
when the folemnity has proceeded, and after
a long pauſe, I have heard the ſervant of
God utter, “ I know that my Redeemer liv.
eth, and that he ſhall ſtand at the latter day
upon the earth; and though worms deſtroy
this body, yet in my fleſh ſhall I ſee God :
whom I ſhall ſee for myſelf, and my eyes
ſhall behold, and not another." How have
I been raiſed above this world, and all its
regards, and how well prepared to receive
the next ſentence which the holy man has
ſpoken ; " we brought nothing into this
world, and it is certain we can carry noth.
ing out ; the Lord gave, and the Lord hath
taken away : bleſſed be the name of the
Lord !"
There are, I know, men of heavy tem-


200
DIGNITY OF THE &c.
per, without genius, who can read theſe ex-
preſſions of {cripture with as much indiffer-
ence as they do the reſt of theſe looſe pa-
pers : however, I will not deſpair to
bring men of wit into a love and admiration
of facred writings ; and, as old as I am, I
promiſed myſelf to ſee the day when it ſhall
be as much the faſhion among men of po-
liteneſs to admire a rapture of St. Paul, as a-
ny fine expreſſion of Virgil or Horace, and
to ſee a well-dreſſed young man produce an
evangelift out of his pocket, and be no more
out of countenance than if it were a claffic
printed by Elzevir. .
It is a gratitude that ought to be paid to
Providence by men of diftinguiſhed faculties,
to praiſe and adore the Author of their be.
ing with a ſpirit ſuitable to thoſe faculties,
and rouſe flower men, by their words, ac-
tions and writings, to a participation of their
tranſports and thankſgivings.
by Elzuide that diftingur


AGAINST ATHEISM, &c.
201
sect. VIII.
AGAINST ATHEISM AND INFIDELITY.
Procul 0! Procul eſte profani !
Virg. Æo. vi. I. 258.
Hence ! far hence, Oye profane !
THE watchman, who does me particular
honours, as being the chief man in the lane,
gave ſo very great a thump at my door laſt
night that I awakened at the knock, and
heard myſelf complimented with the uſual
falutation of Good-morrow, Mr. Bickerſtaff,
Good-morrow, my maſters all. The ſilence
and darkneſs of the night diſpoſed me to be
inore than ordinarily ſerious ; and as my at-
tention was not drawn out among exterior
objects by the avocations of ſenſe, my
thoughts naturally fell upon myſelf. I was
conſidering, amidſt the ſtillneſs of the night,
what was the proper employment of a thinko
ing being ; what were the perfections it
ſhould propoſe to itſelf; and what the end
it ſhould aim at. My mind is of ſuch a par.
ticular caſt, that the falling of a ſhower of
rain, or the whiſtling of wind, at ſuch a
time, is apt to fill my thoughts with ſome-
thing awful and ſolemn. I was in this dif-
poſition, when our bell-man began his mid.
night homily (which he has been repeating
to us every winter-night for theſe twenty
years) with the uſual exordium,
Ob ! mortal man, thou that art born in fore!


202
AGAINST ATHEISM
Sentiments of this nature, which are in
themſelves juſt and reaſonable, however de.
baſed by the circumſtances that accompany
them, do not fail to produce their natural
effect in a mind that is not perverted and
depraved by wrong notions of gallantry, po.
liteneſs, and ridicule. The temper which I
now found myſelf in, as well as the time of
the year, put me in mind of thofe lines in.
Shakeſpeare, wherein, according to his a..
greeable wildneſs of imagination, he has
wrought a country tradition into a beautiful:
piece of poetry. In the tragedy of Hamlet,
where the ghoſt vaniſhes upon the cock's.
crowing, he takes occaſion to mention its
crowing all hours of the night about Chrift.
mas time, and to infinuate a kind of reli.
gious veneration for that ſeaſon..
piecere the sh takes
crowing, he ghoſt vanithe tragedy of H
the night a
It faded on the crowing of the cock.
Some ſay, that ever 'gainſt that feaſon comes
Wherein our Saviour's birth is celebrated,
The bird of dawning fiogeth all night long;
And then, ſay they, no fpirit walks abroad ;
The rights are wholeſome, then no planets ſtrikes,
No fairy takes, no witch hath power to charm :.
So hallow'd and fo gracious is the time,
This admirable author, as well as the best
and greateſt men of all ages, and of all na..
tions, ſeems to have had his mind thorough.
ly ſeaſoned with religion, as is evident by.
many paffiges in his plays that would not be
ſuffered by a modern audience ; and are
therefore certain inſtances that the age he:


204
AGAINST ATHEISM.
mankind. o a civil ſociedut of a govern
the world that he is no better than a brute,
ought to be whipped out of a government,
as a blot to a civil ſociety, and a defamer of
mankind. I love to conſider an infidel,
whether diſtinguiſhed by the title of Deiſt,
Atheiſt, or Free-thinker, in three different
lights; in his folitudes, his afflictions, and
his laſt moments.
A wiſe man, that lives up to the princi.
ples of reaſon and virtue, if one conſiders
him in his folitude, as taking in the ſyſtem
of the univerſe, obſerving the mutual depen.
dence and harmony, by which the whole
frame of it hangs together, beating down
his paſſions or ſwelling his thoughts with
magnificent ideas of Providence, makes a
nobler figure in the eye of an intelligent be-
ing than the greateſt conqueror amidſt all
the pomps and folemnities of a triumph.
On the contrary, there is not a more ridic-
ulous animal than an Atheiſt in his retire.
ment. His mind is incapable of rapture or
elevation ; he can only conſider himſelf as
an inſignificant figure in a landſcape, and wan.
dering up and down in a field or a meadow,
under the ſame terms as the meaneſt animals
about him, and as ſubject to as total a mor.
tality as they ; with this aggravation, that
he is the only one amongſt them who lies
under the apprehenſion of it.
In diftreffes, he muſt be of all creatures
the moſt helpleſs and forlorn; he feels the
whole preſſure of a preſent calamity without
being relieved by the memory of any thing


AND INFIDELITY.
205
that is paft, or the proſpect of any thing that
is to come. Annihilation is the greateſt
bleſſing that he propoſes to himſelf, and an
halter or a piſtol the only refuge he can fly
to. But if you would behold one of thoſe
gloomy miſcreants in his pooreſt figure, you
muſt conſider him under the terrors, or at
the approach of death.
About thirty years ago I was a ſhipboard
with one of theſe vermine, when there aroſe
a brik ga!e, which could frighten nobody
but himſelf. Upon the rolling of the ſhip,
he fell upon his knees, and confeſſed to the
chaplain, that he had been a vile Atheiſt, and
had denied a Supreme Being ever ſince he
came to his eſtate. The good man was af.
toniſhed, and a report immediately ran
through the ſhip that there was an Atheiſt
upon the upper deck. Several of the com.
mon feamen, who had never heard the word
before, thought it had been fome ſtrange
fiſh ; but they were more ſurpriſed when
they ſaw it was a man, and heard out of his
own mouth, that he never believed, till that
day, that there was a God. As he lay in
the agonies of confeſſion, one of the honeſt
tars whiſpered to the boatſwain, that it
would be a good deed to heave him over
board. But we were now within fight of
port, when of a ſudden the wird fell, and
the penitent relapled, begging all of us that
were preſent, as we were Gentlemen, not to
ſay any thing of what had paffed.
· He had not been afhore above two days,
S


206
AGAINST ATHEISM
when one of the company began to rally him
upon his devotion on ſhipboard, which the
other denied in ſo high terms, that it pro-
duced the lie on both ſides, and ended in a
duel. The Atheiſt was run thro' the body, -
and after fome loſs of blood, became as good
a Chriſtian as he was at fea, till he found
that his wound was not mortal. He is at
preſent one of the Free-thinkers of the age,
and now writing a pamplet againſt ſeveral
received opinions concerning the exiſtence of
fairies.
AFTER having treated of falſe zealots in
religion,* I cannot forbear mentioning a
monſtrous ſpecies of men, who, one would
not think had any exiſtence in nature, were
they not to be met with in ordinary conver.
fation, I mean the zealots in Atheiſin. One
would fancy that theſe men, though they
fall ſhort, in every other reſpect, of thoſe
who make a profeſſion of religion, would at
leaſt out ſhine them in this particular, and
be exempt from that ſingle fault which ſeems
to grow out of the imprudent fervors of re-
ligion : but ſo it is, that Infidelity is propa.
gated with as much fierceneſs and conten.
tion, wrath and indignation, as if the ſafe.
ty of mankind depended upon it. There is
* See Spect. vol. III, No. 185.


· AND INFIDELITY.
207
fomething ſo ridiculous and perverſe in this
kind of zealots, that one does not know how
to ſet them out in their proper colours.
They are a ſort of gamefters who are eter-
nally upon the fret, though they play for
nothing. They are perpetually teizing their
friends to come over to them, though, at
the fame time, they allow that neither of
thein ſhall get any thing by the bargain. In
ſhort, the zeal of fpreading Atheiſm is, if
poflible; more abſurd than Atheiſm itſelf.
Since I have mentioned this unaccountable
zeal which appears in Atheiſts, and Infidels,
I muſt further obſerve that they are like.
wiſe in a moſt particular manner pofſeiled
with the ſpirit of bigotry. They are wed.
ded to opinions full of contradiction and iin.
poflibility, and, at the ſame time, look upon
the finalleſt difficulty in an article of faith as
a ſufficient reaſon for rejecting it. Notions
that fall in with the common reaton of man.
kind, that are conformable to the ſenſe of
all ages and ail nations, not to mention their
tendency for promoting the happineſs cf fo.
cieties, or of particular perſons, are explod-
ed as errors and prejudices ; aod ſcheines e.
rected in their ſtead that are altogether mon-
ſtrous and irrational, and require the moſt
extravagant creduiity to embrace them. I
would fain alk.one of theſe bigotted Infidels,
fuppofing all the great points of Atheiſın, as
the caſual or eternal formation of the world,
the materiality of a thinking ſubſtance, the
mortality of the ſoul, the fortuitous organ


208
AGAINST ATHEISM
ization of the body, the motions and gravita-
tion of matter, with the like particulars,
were laid together and formed into a kind
of creed, according to the opinions of the
moſt celebrated Atheiſts, I ſay, ſuppoſing
ſuch a creed as this were formed, and im.
pofed upon any one people in the world,
whether it would not require an infinitely
greater meaſure of faith, than any ſet of ar.
ticles which they fo violently oppoſe. Let
me therefore adviſe this generation of wran-
glers, for their own and for the public good,
to act at leaſt fo conſiſtently with themſelves,
as not to burn with zeal for irreligion, and
with bigotry for ponſenſe.
Calum ipfum petimus flultitia
Hor. Od. III. I. 1. V. 38.
-Scarce the Gods, and heavenly climes
Are ſafe from our audacious crimes. DRYDEN.
UPON my return to my lodgings laſt
night, I found a letter from my worthy
friend the clergyman, whom I have given
ſome account of in my former papers. He
tells me in it, that he was particularly pleaf-
ed with the latter part of my yeſterday's
fpeculation ; and at the ſame time incloſed
the following effay, which he deſires me to
publiſh as the ſequel of that diſcourfe. It
confiſts partly of uncommon reflections, and


AND INFIDELITY.
209
partly of ſuch as have been already uſed, but
now ſet in a ſtronger light.
A believer my be excuſed by the moſt
hardened Atheiſt for endeavouring to make
him à convert, becaufe he does it with an
eye to both their intereſts. The Atheiſt is
inexcuſable who tries to gain over a believer,
becauſe he does not propoſe the doing him.
felf or the believer any good by ſuch a con.
verſion.
The proſpect of a future ſtate is the fecret:
coinfort and refreſhment of my foul ; it is
that which makes nature look gay about me :
it doubles all my pleaſures and ſupports me
under all my afflictions. I can look at diſ-
appointments and misfortunes, pain and fick-
nefs, death itſelf, and what is worſe than
death, the loſs of thoſe who are deareſt to
me, with indifference, fo long as I keep in
view the pleaſures of eternity, and the ſtate
of being, in which there will be no fears
nor apprehenſions, pains nor forrows, fick.
nefs nor feparation. Why will a man be fo
impertinently officious, as to tell me this is
only fancy and deluſion ?. Is there any mer-
it in being the meſlenger of ill news? If it
is a dream let me enjoy it, ſince it makes me
both the happier and the better man.
I muſt confefs I do not know how to truſt
a man who believes neither heaven nor hell,
or, in other words, a future ſtate of rewards
and puniſhments. Not only natural ſelf-love,
but reaſon directs us to promote our own in.
tereft above all things. It can never be for.
- -S 2 .


210
AGAINST ATHEISM
the intereſt of a believer to do me a miſchief,
becauſe he is fure, upon the balance of ac-
compts, to find himſelf a lofer by it. On
the contrary, if he conſiders his own wel.
fare in his behaviour towards me, it will
lead hiin to do me all the good he can,
and at the ſame time reſtrain him from do.
ing me any injury. An unbeliever does not
act like a reaſonable creature, if he favours
me contrary to his preſent intereſt, or does
not diſtreſs nie when it turns to his preſent
advantage. Honour and good nature may
indeed tie up his hands ; but as theſe would
be very much ſtrengthened by reaſon and
principle, ſo without them they are only in-
ftincts, or wavering unſettled notions, which
reſt on no foundation.
Infidelity has been attacked with ſo good
fucceſs of late years, that it is driven out of
all its out-works. The Atheiſt has not found
his poſt tenable, and is therefore retired into
Deiſm, and a diſbelief of revealed religion
only. But the truth of it is, the greateſt
number of this ſet of men, are thoſe who,
for want of a virtuous education, or exam-
ining the grounds of religion, know ſo ve-
ry little of the matter in queſtion, that their
Infidelity is but another term for their ige
norance.
As folly and inconſiderateneſs are the foun.
dations of Infidelity, the great pillars and
ſupports of it are either vanity of appearing
wiſer than the reſt of mankind, or an often-
tation of courage in deſpiſing the terrors of


AND INFIDELITY.
212
21L
another world, which have ſo great an influ.
ence on what they call weaker minds, or an
averſion to a belief that muſt cut them off
from many of thoſe pleaſures they propoſe
to themſelves, and fill them with remorſe
for many of thoſe they have already taſted.
The great received articles of the Chrif.
tian religion have been ſo clearly proved,
from the authority of that divine revelation
in which they are delivered, that it is impof.
ſible for thoſe who have ears to hear, and
eyes to fee, not to be convinced of them,
But were it poſſible for any thing in the
Chriſtian faith to be erroneous, I can find
no ill conſequences in adhering to it. The
great points of the incarnation and ſuffer-
ings of our Saviour produce naturally ſuch
habits of virtue in the mind of man, that, I
ſay, fuppofing it were poſſible for us to be
miſtaken in them, the Infidel himſelf muſt
at leaſt allow that no other ſyſtem of religion
could ſo effectually contribute to the heigh.
tening of morality. They give us great i.
deas of the dignity of human nature, and
of the love which the Supreme Being bears
to his creatures, and conſequently engage us
in the higheſt acts of our duty towards our
Creator, our neighbour, and ourſelves. How
many noble arguments has St. Paul raiſed
from the chief articles of our religion, for
the advancing of morality in its three great
branches ? To give a ſingle example in each
kind : What can be a ſtronger motive to a
firm truſt and reliance on the mercies of our


AND INFIDELITY.
213
had of the divine nature. Pythagoras' firſt
rule directs us to worſhip the gods as it is or.
dained by law; for that is the moſt natural
interpretation of the precept. Socrates, who
was the moſt renowned among the Heathens,
both for wiſdom and virtue, in his laſt mo.
ments deſires his friends to offer a cock to
Æfculapius ; doubtleſs out of a ſubmiſſive
deference to the eſtabliſhed worſhip of his
country. Xenophon tells us that his prince
(whom he fets forth as a patern of perfec.
tion, when he found his death approaching,
offered facrifices on the inountains to the
Perſian Jupiter, and the ſun, according to the
cuſtoms of the Perſians ; for thofe are the
words of the hiſtorian. Nay, the Epicure-
ans and anatomical philofophers fhewed a ve-
ry remarkable modefty in this particular ;
for, though the being of a God was entirely
repugnant to their ſchemes of natural phi.
loſophy, they contented themſelves with the
denial of a providence, aſſerting at the ſame
time the exiſtence of gods in general : be.
cauſe they would not ſhock the common be.
lief of mankind, and the religion of their
country.
I


114
AGAINST ATHEISM
Qua ratione queas traducere leniler å vum :
Ne te femper inops agitet, vexetque cupido ;
Ne pavor et rerum mediocriter utilium fpes.
Hor. 1. 1. Epiſt XVIII. v.97
How thou may'it live, how ſpend thine age in peace :
Left avarice, ſtill yoor, diſturb thy eafe ;
Or fears ſhould ſhake, or cares thy mind abuſe,
Or ardent hope for things of little uſe. CREECH.
HAVING endeavoured, in my laſt Satura
day's paper, to thew the great excellency of
faith, I hall here conſider what are the pro-
per means of ſtrengthening and confirining
it in the mind of man. Thoſe who delight
in reading books of controverſy, which are
written on both ſides of the queſtion in
points of faith, do very feldom arrive at a
fixed and fettled habit of it. They are one
day entirely convinced of its important
truths, and they next meet with ſomething
that ſhakes and diſturbs them. The doubt
which was laid revives again, and ſhews it-
felf in new difficulties, and that generally
for this reaſon, becauſe the mind, which is
perpetually toffed in controverſies and dil.
putes, is apt to forget the reaſons which had
once ſet it at reſt, and to be diſquieted with
any former perplexity, when it appears in a
new ſhape, or is ſtarted by a different hand.
As nothing is more laudable than an inquiry
after truth, fo nothing is more irrational
than to paſs away our whole lives without
determining ourſelves one way or other in
thoſe points which are of the laſt importance
to us. There are indeed many things from


AND INFIDELITY.
215
which we may withhold our affent : but in
caſes by which we are to regulate our lives, it
is the greateſt abfurdity to be wavering and
unſettled, without clofing with that fide
which appears the moft ſafe and the moſt
probable.
The firſt rule therefore which I ſhall lay
down is this, that when, by reading or diſ.
courſe, we find ourſelves thoroughly con.
vinced of the truth of any article, and of
the reaſonableneſs of our belief in it, we
ſhould never after ſuffer ourſelves to call it
into queſtion. We may perhaps forget the
arguments which occaſioned our conviction,
but we ought to remember the ſtrength they
had with us, and therefore ſtill to retain the
conviction which they once produced. This
is no more than what we do in every art or
ſcience : nor is it poſſible to act otherwiſe
conſidering the weakneſs and limitations of
our intellectual faculties. It was thus that
Latimer, one of the glorious army of mar-
tyrs, who introduced the reformation in
England, behaved himſelf in that great con-
ference which was managed between the
moſt learned among the Proteftants and Pa-
piſts in the reign of Queen Mary. This
venerable old man, knowing how his abili.
ties were impaired by age, and that it was
impoſſible for him to recollect all thoſe rea-
fons which had directed him in the choice of
his religion, left his companions, who were in
the full pofſeflion of their parts and learning,
to baffle and confound their antagoniſts by


216
AGAINST ATHEISM
the force of reaſon. As for himſelf, he on-
ly repeated to his adverſaries the articles in
which he firmly believed, and in the profeſ-
fion of which he was determined to die. It
is in this manner that the mathematician
proceeds upon propofitions which he has once
demonſtrated ; and though the demonſtra-
tion may have ſlipt out of his memory, he
builds upon the truth, becauſe he knows it
was demonſtrated. This rule is abſolutely
neceſſary for weaker minds, and in ſome
meaſure for men of the greateſt abilities.
But to theſe laſt I would propoſe, in the
ſecond place, that they ſhould lay up in their
memories, and always keep by them in a
readineſs, thoſe arguments which appear to
them of the greateſt ſtrength, and which
cannot be got over by all the doubts and ca.
vil of Infidelity.
But, in the third place, there is nothing
which ſtrenghtens faith more than morality.
Faith and morality naturally produce each
other. A man is quickly convinced of the
truth of religion who finds it is not againſt
his intereſt that it ſhould be true. The pleaſ-
ure he receives at preſent, and the happineſs
which he promiſes himſelf from it hereafter,
will both diſpoſe him very powerfully to give
credit to it, according to the ordinary obſer-
vation, that we are eaſy to believe what we
with. It is very certain that a man of ſound
realon cannot forbear cloſing with religion
upon an impartial examination of it : but at
the ſame time it is as certain that faith is kept


AND INFIDELITY.
217
alive in us, and gathers ſtrength from praca
tice more than from fpeculation.
There is ſtill another method which is
more perſuaſive than any of the former, and
that is, an habitual adoration of the Supreme
Being, as well in conſtant acts of mental
worſhip as in outward forms. The devout
man does not only believe but feels there is
a Deity. He has actual ſenſations of him :
his experience concurs with his reaſon ; he
ſees him more and more in all his intercourſes
with him, and even in this life almoſt loſes
his faith in conviction.
The laſt method which I ſhall mention for
the giving life to a man's faith, is frequent
retirement from the world, accompanied
with religious meditation. When a man
thinks of any thing in the darkneſs of the
night, whatever deep impreſſions it may
make in his mind, they are apt to vaniſh as
foon as the day breaks about him. The light
and noiſe of the day, which are perpetually
foliciting his fenſes, and calling off his atten.
tion, wear out of his mind the thoughts that
imprinted themſelves in it with fo much
ſtrength, during the ſilence and darkneſs of
the night. A man finds the ſame difference
as to himſelf in a crowd, and in a ſolitude ;
the mind is ſtunned and dazzled amidſt that
variety of objects which preſs upon her in a
great city ; ſhe cannot apply herſelf to the
conſideration of thoſe things which are of
the utmoſt concern to her. The cares or
pleaſures of the world ſtrike in with every


218
AGAINST ATHEISM
thought, and a multitude of vicious exam.
ples give a kind of juſtification to our folly.
In our retirements every thing diſpoſes us to
be ferious. In courts and cities we are en-
tertained with the works of men ; in the
country with thoſe of God. One is the pro-
vince of art, the other of nature. Faith
and devotion naturally grow in the mind of
every reaſonable man, who ſees the impreſ.
fions of divine power and wiſdom in every
object on which he caſts his eye. The Su.
preme Being has made the beſt arguments
for his own exiſtence in the formation of the
heavens and the earth; and theſe are argu.
ments which a man of ſenſe cannot forbear
attending to, who is out of the noiſe and
hurry of human affairs. Ariſtotle ſays, that
ſhould a man live under ground, and there
converſe with works of art and mechaniſm,
and ſhould afterwards be brought up into the
open day, and ſee the ſeveral glories of
the heaven and earth, he would immediate.
Jy pronour.ce them the works of ſuch a being,
as we define God to be. The Pſalmiſt has
very beautiful ſtrokes of poetry to this pur-
poſe in that exalted ſtrain, “The heavens
declare the glory of God; and the firma.
inent ſheweth his handy-work. One day
telleth another ; and one night certifieth a.
mother. There is neither ſpeech nor lan-
guage, but their voices are heard among
them. Their found is gone out into all
lands, and their words into the ends of the
world.” As fuch a bold and ſublime manner


220
ACAINST THE MODERN
SECT. IX.
AGAINST THE MODERN FREE-THINKERS.
Sir,
THERE arrived in this neighbourhood,
two days ago, one of your gay gentlemen
of the town, who being attended at his en-
try with a fervant of his own, beſides a
countryman he had taken up for a guide, ex.
cited the curioſity of the village to learn
whence and what he might be. The coun-
tryman (to whom they applied as moſt eaſy
of acceſs) knew little more than that the
gentleman came from London to travel and
fee faſhions, and was, as he heard fay, a
I'ree-thinker ; what religion that might be
he could not tell ; and for his own part, if
they had not told him the man was a Free.
thinker he ſhould have gueifed, by his way
of talking, he was little better than a Hea-
then ; excepting only that he had been a
good gentleman to him, and made him
drunk twice in one day, over and above
what they had bargained for.
I do not look upon the fimplicity of this,
and ſeveral odd inquiries with which I ſhall
not trouble you, to be wondered at ; much
leſs can I think that our youths of fine wit
and enlarged underſtandings have any reaſon
to laugh. There is no neceſſity that every
fquire in Great Britain ſhould know what
the word Free-thinker ſtands for : but it
were much to be wiſhed that they who val.
ue themſelves upon that conceited title were


FREE-THINKERS.
2
a little better inſtructed in what it ought to
ſtand for, and that they would not perſuade
themſelves a inan is really and truiy a Free.
thinker in any tolerable fenfe, merely by
virtue of his being an Atheiſt, or an Infidel
of any other diſtinction. It may be doubt.
ed with good reaſon, whether there ever was
in nature a more abject, ſlavilh, and bigotted
generation than the tribe of Beaux Eſprits at
preſent fo prevailing in this iſland. Their
pretenſion to be Free-thinkers is no other
than rakes have to be free-livers, and favages
to be free-men ; that is, they can think
whatever they have a mind to, and give
themſelves up to whatever conceit the ex.
travagancy of their inclination or their fancy
fhall ſuggeſt ; they can think as wildly as
talk and act, and will not endure that their
wit ſhould be controlled by ſuch formal
things as decency and common ſenſe ; de-
duction, coherence, conſiſtency, and all the
rules of reaſon, they accordingly diſdain, as
too preciſe and mechanical for men of a lib.
eral education.
This, as far as I could ever learn from their
writings, or my own obſervation, is a true
account of the Britiſh Free-thinker. Our
viſitant here who gave occaſion for this pa.
per, has brought with him a new fyftem of
common ſenſe, the particulars of which I
am not yet acquainted with, but will loſe no
opportunity of informing myſelf whether it
contains any thing worth Mr. Spectator's no.
tice. In the mean time, Sir, I cannot but
-T2


224 AGAINST THE MODERN
unguardedly uttered, is here recorded in
fuch a manner as to affect religion itſelf by
wreſting conceſſions to its diſadvantage from
its own teachers. If this be true, as ſure a.
ny man that reads the discourſe iuft allow
it is ; and if religion is the ſtrongeſt tie of
human ſociety, in what manner are we to
treat this our common enemy, who promotes
the growth of ſuch a ſect as he calls
Free-thinkers ? He that ſhould burn a
houſe, and juſtify the action, by aſſerting
he is a free agent, would be more excuſeable
than this author in uitering what he has
from the right of a Free-thinker ; but they
are a ſet of dry, joyleſs, dull fellows, who
want capacities and talents to make a figure
amongſt mankind upon benevolent and gen.
erous principles, that think to furmount their
own natural meanneſs, by laying offences in
the way of ſuch as make it their endeavour
to excel upon the received maxims and hon.
eſt arts of life. If it were poſſible to laugh
at fo melancholy an affair as what hazards
ſalvation, it would be no unpleaſant inquiry
to aſk what ſatisfaction they reap, what ex-
traordinary gratification of fenſe, or what
delicious libertiniſm this feet of Free-thinkers
enjoy, after getting loofe of the laws which
confine the paſſions of other men? Would
it not be a matter of mirth to find, after
all, that the heads of this growing fect are
ſober wretches, who prate whole evenings
over coffee, and have not themſelves fire em
nough to be any farther debauchees than


..
225
FREE.THINKERS.
merely in principle? Theſe fages of iniqui.
ty are, it ſeems, themſelves only ſpeculative.
ly wicked, and are contented that all the a.
bandoned young men of the age are kept
ſafe from reflection, by dabbling in their
rhapſodies, without taſting the pleaſures for
which their doctrines leave them unaccount.
able. Thus do heavy mortals, only to grat-
ify a dry pride of heart, give up the inter-
eſts of another world, without enlarging
their gratifications in this ; but it is certain
that there are a fort of men that can puzzle
truth, but cannot enjoy the fatisfaction of it.
The fame Free-thinker is a creature unac-
quainted with the emotions which poſſeſs
great minds when they are tuned for reli-
gion; and it is apparent that he is untouched
with any ſuch ſenſation as the rapture of de-
votion. Whatever one of theſe ſcorners
inay think, they certainly want parts to be
devout ; a ſenſe of piety towards heaven, as
well as the ſenſe of any thing elſe, is lively
and warm in proportion to the faculties of
the head and heart. This gentleman may
be aſſured he has not a taſte for what he
pretends to decry, and the poor man is cer-
tainly.more a blockhead than an Atheiſt. I
muſt repeat, that he wants capacity to reliſh
what true piety is : and he is as capable of
writing an heroic poem as making a fervent
prayer. When men are thus low and nar-
row in their apprehenſions of things, and at
the fame time vain, they are naturally led to
think every thing they do not underſtand


226
AGAINST THE MODERN
not to be underſtood. Their contradiction
to what is urged by others is a neceſſary con-
fequence of their incapacity to receive it.
Atheiſtical fellows, who appeared the laſt
age, did not ſerve the devil fur nought, but
revelled in exceffes fuitable to their princi.
ples, while in theſe unhappy days miſchief is
done for miſchief's fake. Theſe Free-think
ers, who lead the lives of recluſe ſtudents,
for no other purpoſe but to diſturb the ſenti.
ments of other men, put me in mind of the
monſtrous recreation of theſe late wild
youths, who, without provocation, had a
wantonneſs in ftabbing and defacing thoſe
they met with. When ſuch writers as this,
who has no fpirit but that of malice, pretend
to inform the age, Mohocks and cut throats
may well fet up for wits and men of pleaſi
ure.
It will be perhaps expected, that I ſhould
produce ſome inſtances of the ill intention
of this Free.thinker, to ſupport the treat-
ment I here give him. In his 524 page he
ſays,
" adly. The prieſts throughout the world
differ about Scriptures, and the authority of
Scriptures. The Bramins have a book of
Scripture called the Shaſter. The Perfees
have their Zundavaſtaw. The Bonzes of
China have books written by the diſciples of
Fo-he, whom they call the God and Saviour
of the world, who was born to teach the
way of ſalvation, and to give ſatisfaction for
all men's fins. The Talapoins of Siam have


FREE-THINKERS
229
a book of Scripture, written by Sommono.
codom, who, the Siameſe ſay, was born of a
virgin, and was the God expected by the u.
.niverſe. The Dervizes have their Alcoran."
I believe their is no one will diſpute the
author's great impartiality in fetting down
the accounts of theſe different religions.
And I think it is pretty evident he delivers
the inätter with an air, that betrays the hiſ-
tory of one born of a virgin has as much
authority with him, from St. Sommonoco-
dom, as from St. Matthew. Thus he treats
revelation. Then as to philoſophy, he tells
you, p. 136, “ Cicero produces this as an
inſtance of a probable opinion, that they
who ſtudy philosophy do not be ieve there
are any gods;" and then, from confidera-
tion of various notions he affirms Tully con.
cludes, “ That there can be nothing after
death.”.
As to what he miſrepreſents of Tully, the
Short ſentence on the head of this paper is e.
nough to oppoſe ; but who can have patience
to reflect upon the aſſembly of impoſtures a-
mong which our author places the religion
of his country? As for my part, I cannot
ſee any poſſible interpretation to give this
work, but a deſign to fubvert and ridicule
the authority of Scripture. The peace and
tranquility of the nation, and regards even
above thoſe, are ſo much concerned in this
matter, that it is difficult to expreſs ſufficient
forrow for the offender, or indignation au
gainſt him. But if ever inan deſerved to be


228
AGAINST THE MODERN
denied the common benefits of air and water,
it is the author of a diſcourſe of Free-think.
ing.
- mentiſque capacius alta. Ovid. I. 1. v. 76.
Capacious of a more exalted mind.
AS I was the other day taking a ſolitary
walk in St. Paul's, I. indulged my thoughts
in the purſuit of a certain analogy between
the fabric and the Chriſtian church in the
largeſt ſenſe. The divine order and æcono-
my of the one ſeemed to be emblematically
ſet forth by the juſt, plain and majeſtic ar-
chitecture of the other. And as the one
conſiſts of a great variety of parts united in
the ſame regular deſign, according to the
trueſt art, and moſt exact proportion ; ſo
the other contains a decent ſubordination of
members, various ſacred inſtitutions, ſublime
doctrines, and ſolid precepts of morality di.
geſted into the ſame deſign, and with an
admirable concurrence tending to one view,
the happineſs and exaltation of human na-
ture,
In the midſt of my contemplation I beheld
a fly upon one of the pillars ; and it ſtraight.
way_came into my head, that this ſame fly
was a Free-thinker. For it required fome
comprehenſion in the eye of the ſpectator to


FREE-THINKERS.
231
the ſpace of an hundred and fifty thouſand
years. Theſe ideas wonderfully dilate and
expand the mind. There is ſomething in the
immenſity of this diſtance, that ſhocks and
overwhelms the imagination, it is too big
for the graſp of the human intellect : eſtates,
provinces, and kingdw.ns, vanilh at its pref.
ence. It were to be wiſhed a certain prince,
who hath encouraged the ſtudy of it in his
ſubjects, had been himſelf a proficient in al-
tronomy. This might have ſhewed him how
mean an ambition that was, which termi.
nated in a fmall part of what is in itſelf but
a point, in reſpect of that part of the uni.
verſe which lies within our view.
But the Chriſtian religion ennobleth and
enlargeth the mind beyond any other profef-
fion or ſcience whatſoever. Upon that
fcheme, while the earth, and the tranſient
enjoyments of this life, thrink in the nar.
roweſt dimenſions, and are accounted as
66 the duft of a balance, the drop of a buck.
et, yea leſs than nothing," the intellectual
world opens wider to our view : the perfec.
tions of the Deity, the nature and excellen-
cy of virtue, the dignity of the human ſoul,
are diſplayed in the largeſt characters. The
mind of inan ſeems to adapt itſelf to the
different nature of its objects; it is contract.
ed and debaſed by being converfant in little
and low things, and feeis a proportionable
enlargement ariſing from the contemplation
of theſe great and ſublime ideas.
· The greatneſs of things is comparative ;


232
AGAINST THE MODERN
and this does not only hold, in refpect of
extenſion, but likewiſe in reſpect of dignity,
duration, and all kinds of perfection. At
tronomy opens the mind, and alters our
judgment, with regard to the magnitude of
extended beings ; but Chriſtianity produceth
an univerſal greatneis of foul. Philofophy
increaſeth our views in every reſpect ; but
Chriſtianity extends them to a degree beyond
the light of nature.
How mean muſt the moft exalted poten-
tate upon earth appear to that eye which
takes in innumerable orders of bleſſed fpirits,
differing in glory and perfection ? How lit.
tle mult the amufements of fenſe, and the
ordinary occupations of mortal men, ſeein
to one who is engaged in fo noble a purſuit,
as the aſſimulation of himſelf to the Deity,
which is the proper employment of every
Chriſtian !
And the improvement which grows from
habituating the mind to the comprehenſive
views of religion muſt not be thought whol-
ly to regard the underſtanding. Nothing is
of greater force to ſubdue the inordinate
motions of the heart, and to regulate the
will. Whether a man be actuated by his
pafſions or his reaſon, theſe are firſt wrought
upon by fome object, which ſtirs the foul in
proportion to its apparent dimenſions. Hence
irreligious men, whofe ſhort profpects are
filled with earth, and ſenſe, and mortal life,
are invited by theſe mean ideas, to actions
proportionably little and low. But a mind


FREE-THINKERS
235
whoſe views are enlightened pon their com-
by religion, is animated.to non
n Paul did after
by more fublime and remote olala
There is not any inſtance of
ce of t only no op-
the Free-thinkers that raiſes my he
more, than their pretending to rhich in
tians, as men of narrow underſtauch
of Chriſtian
to paſs themſelves upon the world for
of ſuperior ſenſe, and more enlarged vid
But I leave it to any impartial man to judge
which hath the nobler ſentiinents, which the
greater views ; he whoſe notions are ſtinted
to a few miſerable inlets of ſenſe, or he whoſe
ſentiments are raiſed above the common taſte,
by the anticipation of thoſe delights which
will ſatiate the foul, when the whole capaci.
ty of her nature is branched out into new
faculties? he who looks for nothing beyond
this ſhort ſpan of duration, or he whoſe
aims are co-extended with the endleſs length
of eternity ? he who derives his ſpirit from
the elements, or he who thinks it was in.
{pired by the Almighty ?
by the ants are raife inlets of motions ar
.
Sir,
« SINCE you have not refuſed to inſert ..
matters of a theological nature in thoſe ex-
cellent papers, with which you daily both in.
ſtruct and divert us, I earneſtly deſire you to
print the following paper. The notions


236
AGAINST THE MODERN
eminenthem, we tind with great
Sapphira, and many miracles wrought after
thoſe fevere inſtances of the apoftolical pow.
er had alarmed the prieſts, who looked upon
the temple worſhip, and conſequently their
bread, to be ftruck at ; theſe prieſts, and all
they that were with them, who were of the
fect of the Sadducees, iinpriſoned the apol-
tles, intending to examine them in the great
council the next day : where, when the
council met, and the prieſts and Sadducees
propoſed to proceed with great rigour a-
gainſt them, we find that Gamaliel, a very
eminent Phariſee, St. Paul's maſter, a man
of great authority among the people, many
of whoſe determinations we have ſtill pre-
ferved in the body of the Jewiſh traditions,
coinmonly called the Talmud, oppoſed their
heat, and told them, for ought they knew,
the apoſtles might be actuated by the Spirit
of God, and that in ſuch a caſe it would be in
vain to oppoſe them ; lince, if they did ſo,
they would only fight againſt God, whom
they could not overcome. Gamaliel was fo
conſiderable a man amongſt his own ſect, that
we inay reaſonably believe he ſpoke the ſenſe
of his party as well as his own. St. Ste-
phen's martyrdom came on preſently after,
in which we do not find the Phariſees, as
fuch, had any hand; it is probable that he
was proſecuted by thoſe who had before im-
priſoned Peter and John. One novice indeed
of that fect was ſo zealous that he kept the
clothes of thoſe that ſtoned him. This no.
vice, whoſe zeal went beyond all bounds


FREE THINKERS.
237
was the great St. Paul, who was particularly
honoured with a call from heaven by which
he was converted, and he was afterwards,
by God himſelf, appointed to be the Apoſtle
of the Gentiles. Beſides him, and him too
reclaimed in fo glorious a manner, we find
no one Phariſee, either named or hinted at
by St. Luke, as an oppoſer of Chriſtianity
in thoſe earlieſt days. What others might
do we know not. But we find the Saddu.
cees purſuing St. Paul even to death at his
coming to Jeruſalem, in the 21ſt of the Acts.
He then, upon all occaſions, owned himſelf
to be a Phariſee. In the 22d chapter he told
the people, that he had been bred up at the
feet of Gamaliel after the ſtricteft manner,
in the law of his fathers. In the 23d chap-
ter he told the council that he was a Phariſee,
the ſon of a Phariſee, and that he was accuſed
for aſſerting the hope and reſurrection of the
dead, which was their darling doctrine,
Hereupon the Phariſees ſtood by him, and
though they did not own our Saviour to be
the Mefliah, yet they would not deny but
ſome angel or fpirit might have ſpoken to
him, and then if they oppofed him, they
ſhould fight againſt God. This was the very
argument Gamaliel had uſed before. The
reſurrection of our Lord, which they ſaw fo
ſtrenuouſly aſſerted by the apoſtles, whoſe
miracles they alſo ſaw and owned, (Acts iv.
16.) ſeems to have ſtruck them, and many
of them were converted (Acts xv. 5.) even
without a miracle, and the reſt ſtood ftill and
made no oppoſition.


238
AGAINST THE MODERN
We ſee here what the part was which the
Phariſees acted in this important conjuncture.
Of the Sadducees, we meet not with one in
the whole apoſtolic hiſtory that was convert-
ed. We hear of no miracles wrought to con-
vince any of them, though there was an em-
inent one wrought to reclaim a Phariſee.
St. Paul, we fee, after his converſion, always.
glories in his having been bred a Phariſee.
He did fo to the people of Jerufalem, to the
great council, to King Agrippa, and to the
Philippians. So that from hence we may
juſtly infer, that it was not their inſtitution,
which was in itſelf laudable, which our
blefled Saviour found fault with, but it was
their hypocriſy, their covetouſneſs, their op.
preſſion, the overvaluing themſelves upon
their zeal for the ceremonial law, and their
adding to that yoke, by their traditions, all
which were not properly effentials of their
inſtitution, that our Lord blamed.
But I muſt not run on. What I would
obferve, Sir, is, that Atheiſm is more dread.
ful, and would be more grievous to human
fociety, if it were inveſted with ſufficient
power, than religion under any ſhape, where
its profeſſors do at the bottoin believe what
they profeſs. I deſpair not of a Papiſt's con-
verſion, though I would not willingly lie at
a zealot Papilt's mercy, (and no Proteſtant
would, if he knew what Popery is) though
he truly believes in our Saviour. But the
Free-thinker, who ſcarcely believes there is
à God, and certainly diſbelieves revelation,


FREE-THINKERS,
239
and, no longed, by the hope for his lahim
is a very terrible animal. He will talk of
natural rights, and the juft freedoins of man.
kind, no longer than till he himſelf gets in-
to power ; and, by the inſtance before us,
we have ſmall grounds to hope for his ſalva-
tion, or that God will ever vouchſafe him
ſufficient grace to reclaim him from errors,
which have been ſo immediately levelled a-
gainſt himſelf.
If there notions be true, as I verily believe
they are, I thought they might be worth
publiſhing at this time, for which reaſon they
are ſent in this manner to you by,
SIR,
Your moſt humble Servant.
M. N.


240
AGAINST THE MODERN
Quid fi in 'hoc erro, quod animos hominum immortales effe
credam, libenter erro : nec mihi hunc errorem, quo delec-
tor, dum vivo, extorqueri volo : fin mortuus ( ut quidam
minuti philofophi cenfent) nibil fentiam ; non vereor, ne
bunc errorem meum mortui philofophi irrideant.
If I am wrong, in believing that the ſouls of men are
immortal ; I pleaſe myſelf in my miſtake : nor while
I live, will I ever chuſe, that this opinion, wherewith
I am ſo much delighted, Tould be wreited from me:
but if, at death, I am to be annihilated, as ſome min.
nte philoſophers imagine, I am not afraid lelt thoſe
wiſe men when extinct too, ſhould laugh at my error,
SEVERAL letters which I have lately re.
ceived give me information, that ſome well
diſpoſed perſons have taken offence at my
uſing the word Free-thinker as a term of re-
proach. To ſet therefore this matter in a
clear light, I muſt declare that no one can
have a greater veneration than myſelf for
the Freethinkers of antiquity, who acted
the ſame part in thoſe times, as the great
men of the reformation did in ſeveral nations
of Europe, by exerting themſelves againſt
the idolatry and ſuperſtition of the times in
which they lived. It was by this noble im-
pulſe that Socrates and his diſciples, as well
as all the philoſophers of note in Greece ;
and Cicero, Seneca, with all the learned
men of Rome, endeavoured to enlighten
their contemporaries amidſt the darkneſs and
ignorance in which the world was then ſunk
and buried.
The grcat points which theſe Free-thinkers
endeavoured to eſtabliſh and inculcate into
the minds of men, were, the formation of


FREE THINKERS.
241
the univerſe, the ſuperintendency of Provi-
dence, the perfection of the divine nature,
the immortality of the ſoul, and the future
ſtate of rewards and puniſhments. They all
complied with the religion of their country,
as much as poſſible, in ſuch particulars as
did not contradict and pervert theſe great
and fundamental doctrines of mankind. On
the contrary, the perſons who now ſet up
for Free-thinkers, are ſuch as endeavour, by
a little traſh of words and fophiftry, to
weaken and deſtroy thoſe very principles,
for the vindication of which, freedom of
thought at firſt become laudable and heroic.
Theſe apoftates from reaſon and good ſenſe,
can look at the glorious frame of nature,
without paying any adoration to him that
raiſed it, can conſider the great revolutions
in the univerſe, without lifting up their
minds to that ſuperior power which hath the
direction of it ; can preſume to cenſure the
Deity in his ways towards men ; can level
mankind with the beaſts that periſh ; can
extinguiſh in their own minds all the pleaſing
hopes of a future ſtate, and lull themſelves
into a ſtupid fecurity againſt the terrors of
it. If one were to take the word Prieſtcraft
out of the mouths of theſe ſhallow mon.
ſters, they would be immediately ſtruck
dumb. It is by the help of this ſingle term
that they endeavour to diſappoint the good
works of the moſt learned and venerable or-
der of men, and harden the hearts of the
ignorant againſt the very light of nature,


FREE-THINKERS.
243
tic than a miſtaken philoſopher. A chaſte
Infidel, a fpeculative Libertine, is an animal
that I ſhould not believe to be in nature, did:
I not ſometimes meet with this ſpecies of
men, that plead for the indulgence of their
paſſions in the midſt of a levere ftudious life,
and talk against the immortality of the ſoul
over a diſh of coffee.
I would fain aſk, a minute philoſopher,
what good he propoſes to mankind by the
publiſhing of his doctrines? Will they make
a man a better citizen, or father of a family;
a more endearing huſband, friend, or fon?
Will they enlarge his public or private vir-
tues, or correct any of his frailties or vices ?
What is there either joyful or glorious in
ſuch opinions? Do they either refrelh or
enlarge our thoughts? Do they contribute
to the happineſs, or raiſe the dignity of hu.
man nature ? Tire only good that I have ev-
er heard pretended to, is, that they banith
terrors, and ſet the mind at eaſe. But whoſe
terrors do they baniſh? It is certain, if
there were any ſtrength in their arguments,
they would give great diſturbance to minds
that are influenced by virtue, honour and
morality, and take from us the only com-
forts and ſupports of affliction, ſickneſs and
old age. The minds therefore which they
ſet at eaſe, are only thoſe of impenitent
criminals and malefactors, and which, to the
good of mankind, ſkould be in perpetual
terror and alarm.
I muſt confeſs, nothing is more uſual than


FREETHINKERS.
245
tokens of infamy fixed upon them, as might
diſtinguiſh thoſe bodies which are given up
by the owners to oblivion and putrefaction,
from thoſe which reſt in hope, and ſhall riſe
in glory. But, at the ſame time that I am
againſt doing them the honour of the notice
of our laws, which ought not to ſuppoſe
there are ſuch criminals in being, I have of.
ten wondered, how they can be tolerated in
any mixed converſations, while they are
venting theſe abſurd opinions; and ſhould
think, that if, on any ſuch occaſions, half a
dozen of the moſt robuft Chriſtians in the
company would lead one of theſe Gentle,
men to a pump, or convay him into a blan:
ket, they would do very good ſervice both
to church and ſtate. I do not know how
the law ſtands in this particular ; but I hope,
whatever knocks, bangs or thumps, might
be given with ſuch an honeft intention,
would not be conſtrued as a breach of the
peace. I dare ſay they would not be return.
ed by the perſon who receives them ; for
whatever theſe fools may ſay in the vanity of
their hearts, they are too wiſe to riſk their
lives upon the uncertainty of their opinions.
When I was a young inan about this town,
I frequented the ordinary of the Black Horſe,
in Holburn, where the perſon that uſually
preſided at the table was a rough old-faſh-
ioned Gentleman, who according to the cuf-
toms of thoſe times, had been the Major and
Preacher of a regiment. It happened one
day that a nofy young officer, bred in France,
V ?


246
AGAINST THE MODERN &c.
was venting ſome new füngled notions, and
ſpeaking, in the gaity of his humour, a-
gainſt the difpenfations of Providence. The
Major at firſt only deſired him to talk more
reſpectfully of one for whom all the compa-
ny bad an honour ; but finding him run on
in his extravagance, began to reprimand him
after a more ſerious manner. Young man !
ſaid he, do not abuſe your benefactor, whilſt
you are eating his bread. Conſider whoſe
air you breathe, whoſe preſence you are in,
and who it is that gave you the power of
that very ſpeech which you make uſe of to
his diſhonour. The young fellow, who
thought to turn matters into a jeſt, aſked
him, if he was going to preach? But, at
the fame time, deſired him to take care what
he ſaid, when he ſpoke to a man of honour.
A man of honour, ſays the Major ; thou art
an Infidel and a blafphemer, and I ſhall uſe
thee as ſuch. In fhort, the quarrel ran ſo
high, that the Major was deſired to walk
out. Upon their coming into the garden,
'the old fellow adviſed his antagoniſt to con
ſider the place into which one paſs might
drive him ; but finding him grow upon him
to a degree of fcurrility, as believing the
advice proceeded from fear; Sirrah, ſays he,
if a thunderbolt does not ſtrike thee dead
before I come at thee, I ſhall not fail to chaf.
tiſe thee for thy profanenefs to thy Maker,
and thy faucineſs to his ſervant. Upon this
he drew his ſword, and cried out with a
loud voice, “ The Tword of the Lord and of


248 IMMORTALITY OF THE SOUL,
of all the pleaſing hopes and ſecret joys that
can ariſe in the heart of a reaſonable crea-
ture. I conſidered thoſe ſeveral proofs
drawn,
Firſt, from the nature of the ſoul itſelf,
and, particularly its immateriality, which,
though not abſolutely neceſſary to the eterni.
ty of its duration, hás, I think, been evinced
to almoſt a demonſtration.
Secondly, from its paſſions and ſentiments,
as particularly from its love of exiſtence, its
horror of annihilation, and its hopes of im.
mortality, with that ſecret fatisfaction which
it finds in the practice of virtue, and that un.
eaſineſs which follows in it upon the commil-
fion of vice.
Thirdly, from the nature of the Supreme
Being, whoſe juſtice, goodneſs, wiſdom and
veracity, are all concerned in this great point.
But among theſe and other excellent argu-
ments for the immortality of the ſoul, there
is one drawn from the perpetual progreſs of
the ſoul, to its perfection, without a poſſibili.
ty of ever arriving at it: which is a hint
that I do not remember to have ſeen open.
ed and improved by others who have writ.
ten on this ſubject, though it ſeems to me to
carry a great weight with it. How can it
enter into the thoughts of man, that the ſoul,
which is capable of ſuch immenſe perfections,
and of receiving new improvements to all
eternity, ſhall fall away into nothing almoſt as
foon as it is created ? Are ſuch abilities made
for no purpoſe ? A brute arrives at a point


AND A FUTURE STATE. . 249
of perfection that he can never paſs ; in a
few years he has all the endowments he is
capable of; and were he to live ten thouſand
more, would be the ſame thing he is at pref-
ent. Were a human ſoul thus at a ſtand in
her accoinpliſhments, were her faculties to be
full blown, and incapable of further enlarge-
ments, I could imagine it might fall away in.
fenfibly, and drop at once into a ſtate of an.
nihilation. But can we believe a thinking
being, that is in a perpetual progreſs of im-
provements, and travelling on from perfec.
tion to perfection, after having juſt looked
abroad into the works of its Creator, and
made a few diſcoveries of his infinite good.
neſs, wiſdom, and power, muſt periſh at her
firſt ſetting out, and in the very beginning of
her enquiries ? ..
A man, conſidered in his preſent ſtate,
ſeems only ſent into the world to propagate
his kind. He provides himſelf with a luce
ceflor, and immediately quits his poſt to make
room for him.
- Haeres
Heredem alterius, velut unda ſupervenit undam,
Hor. lib. II. Epilt. 2. v. 175.
Heir urges on his predeceſſor heir,
Like wave impelling wave.
He does not ſeem born to enjoy life, but to
deliver it down to others. This is not ſur-
priſing to conſider in animals, which are
formed for our uſe, and can finiſh their buſi-
neſs in a ſhort life. The filk-worm, after


250 IMMORTALITY OF THE SOUL,
having ſpun her taſk, lays her eggs and dies.
But a man can never have taken in his full
meaſure of knowledge, has not time to ſub-
due his paſſions, eſtabliſh his ſoul in virtue,
and come up to the perfection of his nature,
before he is hurried off the ſtage. Would
an infinitely wiſe Being make ſuch glorious
creatures for lo mean a purpoſe ? Can he
delight in the production of ſuch abortive
intelligences, ſuch ſhort-lived reaſonable be-
ings? Would he give us talents that are not
to be exerted ? Capacities that are never to
be gratified ? How can we find that wiſdom,
which ſhines through all his works, in the
formation of man, without looking on this
world as only a nurſery for the next, and
believing that the ſeveral generations of ra.
tional creatures, which riſe up and diſappear
in ſuch quick ſucceſſions, are only to receive
their firſt rudiments of exiſtence here, and
afterwards to be tranſplanted into a more
friendly climate, where they may ſpread and
flouriſh to all eternity ?
There is not, in my opinion, a more pleaſ-
ing and triumphant conſideration in religion
than this, of the perpetual progreſs which
the ſoul makes towards the perfection of its
nature, without ever arriving at a period in
it. To look upon the ſoul as going on from
ſtrength to ſtrength, to conſider that ſhe is
to ſhine for ever with new acceſſions of glo.
ry, and brighten to all eternity ; that the
will be ſtill adding virtue to virtue, and
knowledge to knowledge ; carries in it fome-


252 IMMORTALITY OF THE SOUL,
nity, without a poſſibility of touching it:
and can there be a thought ſo tranſporting
as to conſider ourſelves in theſe perpetual ap.
proaches to him, who is not only the ſtand.
ard of perfection, but of happineſs !
Neſcio quomodo inhæret in mentibus quaſi ſeculorum quoddam
augurium fututorum ; idque in maximis, ingeniis altidi-
miſque animis exiflit maxime et apparet facillime.
. Cic. Tuſc. Quæſt.
There is, I know not how, deeply imprinted in the minds
of men a certain preſage, as it were, of a future ex-
iſtence ; and this takes the deepeſt root, and is moſt
diſcoverable in the greateſt geniuſes and moſt elevated
minds.
TO THE SPECTATOR.
. . SIR,
" I AM fully perſuaded, that one of the
beſt ſprings of generous and worthy actions,
is the having generous and worthy thoughts
of ourſelves. Whoever has a mean opinion
of the dignity of his nature will a& in no
higher a rank than he has allotted himſelf in
his own eſtimation. If he conſiders his being
as circumſcribed by the uncertain term of a
few years, his deſigns will be contracted into
the ſame narrow ſpan he imagines is to
bound his exiſtence. How can he exalt his
thoughts to any thing great and noble, who


AND A FUTURE STATE.
253
only believes that, after a ſhort turn on the
ſtage of this world, he is to ſink into ob-
livion, and to loſe his conſciouſneſs for ever?
For this reaſon, I am of opinion that ſo
uſeful and elevated a contemplation as that
of the ſoul's immortality cannot be reſumed
too often. There is not a more improving
exerciſe to the human mind than to be fre.
quently reviving its own great privileges and
endowments, nor a more effectual means to
awaken in us an ambition raiſed above low
objects and little purſuits, than to value our.
ſelves as heirs of eternity.
It is a very great ſatisfaction to conſider
the beſt and wiſeſt of mankind in all nations
and ages, aſſerting as with one voice this
their birth-right, and to find it ratified by an
expreſs revelation. At the ſame time, if
we turn our thoughts inward upon ourſelves,
we may meet with a kind of ſecret ſenſe
concurring with the proofs of our own im.
mortality.
. You have in my opinion raiſed a good
preſumptive argument from the increaſing
appetite the mind has to knowledge, and to
the extending its own faculties, which can-
not be accompliſhed, as the more reſtrained
perfection of lower creatures may in the lim.
its of a ſhort life. I think ano:her probable
conjecture may be raiſed from our appe ite
to duration itſelf, and from a reficction on
our progreſs through the ſeveral ftages cfit.
We are complaining, as you obſerve in a for-
mer fpeculation, of the ſhortneſs of life, and


254 IMMORTALITY OF THE SOUL,
yet are perpetually hurrying ever the parts
of it, to arrive at certain little ſettlements, or
iinaginary points of reſt, which are diſperſed
up and down in it.
Now, let us conſider what happens to us
when we arrive at theſe imaginary points of
reft. Do we ſtop our motion, and ſit down
ſatisfied in the ſettlement we have gained ?
or are we not removing the boundary, and
marking out new points of reſt, to which we
prefs forward with the like eagerneſs, and
which ceaſc to be ſuch as faſt as we attain
them? Our cafe is like that of a traveller
upon the Alps, who ſhould fancy that the
top of the next hill muſt end his journey,
becauſe it terminates his proſpect; but he
no ſooner arrives at it, than he fees new
ground and other hills beyond it, and con.
tinues to travel on as before.
This is ſo plainly every man's condition
in life, that there is no one who has obſerv.
ed any thing but may obſerve, that as faſt as
his tiine wears away, his appetite to ſome.
thing future remains. The uſe therefore !
would make of it is this, that ſince nature
(as ſome love to expreís it) does nothing in
vain ; or, to ſpeak properly, ſince the Author
of our being has planted no wandering pal.
fion in it, no deſire which has not its object,
futurity is the proper object of the paflion
ſo conſtantly exerciſed about it, and this
reſtleſſneſs in the preſent, this afligning our.
felves over to farther ſtages of duration, this
fucceflive graſping at ſomething ſtill to come,


I
25%
AND A FUTURE STATE.
To live in joyful hope becomes the wiſe.
THE time preſent feidom affords ſuflicient
employment to the mind of man. Objects
of pain or pleaſure, love or admiration, do
not lie thick enough together in life to keep
the ſoul in conſtant action and ſupply an im-
mediate exerciſe to its faculties. In order
therefore to remedy this defect, that the
mind may not want buſineſs, but always
have materials for thinking, ſhe is endued
with certain powers that can recal what is
paſſed, and anticipate what is to come.
That wonderful faculty which we call the
memory is perpetually looking back, when
we have nothing preſent to entertain us. It
is like thoſe repoſitories in ſeveral animals
that are filled with ſtores of their former
food, on which they may ruminate when
their preſent paſture fails.
As the memory relieves the mind in her
vacant moments, and prevents any chaſms
of thought by ideas of what is paſt, we
have other faculcies that agitate and employ
her upon what is to come. Theſe are the
paſſions of hope and fear.
By theſe two pafſions we reach forward
into futurity, and bring up to our prelent
thoughts objects that lie hid in the remoteft
depths of time. We ſuffer miſery and ene
joy happineſs before they are in being : we
can ſet the ſun and ftars forward, or loſe
fight of them by wandering into thoſe retir,
W 2


258
IMMORTALITY OF THE SOUL,
ed parts of eternity, when the heavens and
earth ſhall be no more.
By the way, who can imagine that the
exiſtence of a creature is to be circumſcrib-
ed by time, whoſe thoughts are not ? But
I ſhall, in this paper, confine myſelf to that
particular pafſion which goes by the name of
hope.
Our actual enjoyments are fo few and tran-
ſient, that man would be a very miſerable be-
ing were he not endued with this paſſion,
which gives him a tafte of thoſe good things
that may poſſibly come into his poffefſion,
“ We fhould hope for every thing that is
good," fays the old poet Linus, 6 becauſe
there is nothing which may not be hoped
for, and nothing but what the gods are able
to give us."
· Hope quickens all the ftill parts of life,
and keeps the mind awake in her moſt remifs
and indolent hours. It gives habitual feren-
ity and good humour. It is a kind of vital
heat in the foul that cheers and gladdens her,
when he does not attend to it. It makes
pain eafy, and labour pleaſant.
Beſide theſe ſeveral advantages which riſe
from hope, there is another which is none
of the leaſt, and that is, its great efficacy in
preſerving us from ſetting too high a value
on preſent enjoyments. The faying of Cæſar
is very well known. When he had given a-
way all his eſtate in gratuities among his
friends, one of them aſked what he had left
for himſelf ? To which that great man res


AND A FUTURE STATE.
259
plied, Hope. His natural magnanimity hin.
dered him from priſing what he was certain.
ly poſſeſſed of, and turned all his thoughts
upon ſomething more valuable that he had
in view. I queſtion not but every reader
will draw a moral from this ſtory, and apply
it to himſelf without my direction.
The old ſtory of Pandora's box (which
many of the learned believe was formed a.
mong the Heathens upon the tradition of the
fall of man) fhews us how deplorable a ſtate
they thought the preſent life without hope.
To ſet forth the utmoſt condition of miſery,
they tell us that our forefather, according
to the Pagan theology, had a great vefſel
preſented him by Pandora ; upon his lifting
up the lid of it, ſays the fable, there flew
out all the calamities and diſtempers incident
to men, from which, till that time, they had
been altogether exempt. Hope, who had
been incloſed in the cup with ſo much bad
company, inſtead of flying off with the reſt,
ſtuck ſo cloſe to the lid of it that it was ſhut
down upon her.
I ſhall make but two reflections upon what
I have hitherto ſaid. Firſt, that no kind of
life is ſo happy as that which is full of hope,
eſpecially when the hope is well grounded
and when the object of it is of an exalted
kind, and in its nature proper to make the
perſon happy who enjoys it. This propoſi.
tion muſt be very evident to thoſe who con.
ſider how few are the preſent enjoyments of
the moſt happy man, and how inſufficient


268
IMMORTALITY OF THE SOUL,
--Nec morti elle locum Virg. Geoz. IV. v. 262.
No room is left for death.
Deyden.
A LEWD young fellow ſeeing an aged
hermit go by him bare-footed, 6 Father,"
ſays he, “ you are in a very miſerable con-
dition if there is not another world." True
fon ſaid the hermit ; « but what is thy con.
dition if there is ?” Man is a creature de.
ſigned for two different ſtates of being, or
rather for two different lives. His firti life
is ſhort and tranſient ; his ſecond permanent
and laſting. The queſtion we are all con.
cerned in is this: In which of theſe two lives
is it our chief intereſt to make ourſelves
happy ? Or, in other words, Whether we
Thould endcavour to ſecure to ourſelves the
pleaſures and gratiſications of a life which is
uncertain and precarious, and at its utmoſt
length of a very inconſiderable durarion ; or
to ſecure to ourſelves the pleaſures of a life
which is fixed and ſettled, and will never
end ? Every man, upon the firſt hearing of
this queſtion knows very well which fide of
it he ought to cloſe with. But however
right we are in theory, it is plain that in
practice we adhere to the wrong ſide of the
queſtion. We make proviſions for this life,
as though it were never to have an end, and
for the other life, as though it were never
to have a beginning.
Should a ſpirit of ſuperior rank, who is a
ſtranger to human nature, accidentally alight
upon the earth, and take a ſurvey of its in-


AND A FUTURE STATE.
278
thouſands of years are to the imagination as
a kind of eternity, though in reality they
do not bear fo great a proportion to that du.
ration which is to follow them, as an unit
does to the greateſt number which you can
put together in figures, or as one of thoſe
ſands to the ſuppoſed heap. Reaſon there.
fore tells us, without any manner of heſita.
tion, which would be the better part in this
choice. However, as I have before intimat-
ed, our reaſon might in ſuch a caſe be ſo o.
verſet by the imagination, as to diſpoſe ſome
perſons to ſink under the confideration of
the great length of the firſt part of this du.
ration, and of the great diſtance of that fe.
cond duration which is to ſucceed it. The
mind, I ſay, might give itſelf up to that
happinefs which is at hand, conſidering that
it is fo very near, and that it would laſt fo
very long. But when the choice we actual-
ly have before us, is this, whether we will
chuſe to be happy for the fpace only of three-
fcore and ten, nay, perhaps of only twenty
or ten years, I might fay of only a day or an
hour, and miſerable to all eternity ; or, on
the contrary, miſerable for this ſhort terin
of years, and happy for a whole eternity ;
what words are ſufficient to expreſs that fol.
ly and want of confideration, which, in ſuch
a caſe, makes a wrong choice ?
I here put the caſe even at the worſt, by
fuppoſing what ſeldom happens, that a courſe
of virtue makes us miſerable in this life ;
but if we ſuppoſe, as it generally happens,


272 IMMORTALITY OF THE SOUL,
that virtue would make us more happy even
in this life than a contrary courſe of vice;
how can we ſufficiently adınire the ſtupidity
or madneſs of thoſe perſons who are capable
of making ſo abſurd a choice ?
Every wiſe man therefore will conſider
this life only as it may conduce to the hap-
pineſs of the other, and cheerfully facrifice
the pleaſures of a few years to thoſe of an
eternity.
Sentin te fedem hominum ac domum contemplari, qua fi tibi.
parva ( ut el) ita videtur, hæc coeleftia femper fpe&tato ;
illa humana contemnito.
Cic. Somn. Scip.
I underſtand, you contemplate the abode and habitation
of men ; which if it ſeem ſo ſmall to you, as indeed
it is, direct your views continually to heavenly objects,
and contemn thoſe that are earthly.
• THE following eſſay comes from the in-
genious author of the letter upon novelty,
printed in a late Spectator ; the notions are
drawn from the Platonic way of thinking,
but as they contribute to raiſe the mind, and
may inſpire noble ſentiments of our own fu-
ture grandeur and happinefs, I think it well
deferves to be preſented to the publice


24 IMMORTALITY OF THE SOUL,
Therefore, as it is not to be ſuppoſed that
"God fhould make a world merely of inani-
mate matter, however diverſified or inhabit-
ed only by creatures of no higher an order
than brutes ; fo the end for which he deſign-
ed his reaſonable offspring, is the contem:
plation of his works, the enjoyment of him-
felf, and in both to be happy, having, to
this purpoſe, endued them with correſpond-
ent faculties and deſires. He can have no
greater pleaſure from a bare review of his
works, than from the ſurvey of his own
ideas, but we may be aſſured that he is well
pleaſed in the ſatisfaction derived to beings
capable of it, and, for whole entertainment,
he hath erected this inmenſe theatre. Is not
this more than an intimation of our immor-
tality ? Man, who when conſidered as on
Jis probation for a happy exiſtence hereat-
ter, is the moſt remarkable inſtance of divine
wiſdom : if we cut him off froin all relation
to eternity, is the moſt wonderful and unac-
countable compoſition in the whole creation.
He hath capacities to lodge a much greater
variety of knowledge than he will be ever
maſter of, and an unſatisfied curioſity to
tread the ſecret paths of nature and provi-
dence ; but, with this, his organs, in their
preſent ſtructure, are rather fitted to ſerve
the neceſſities of a vile body, than to minit.
teľ to his underſtanding ; and, from the lit.
tle ſpot to which he is chained, he can frame
but wandering guefles concerning the innu-
merable worlds of light that encompaſs him,


AND A FUTURE STATE.
275.
which, though in themſelves of a prodigious
bigneſs, do but juſt glimmer in the remote
ſpaces of the heavens : and when, with a
great deal of time and pains, he hath labour.
ed a little way up the ſteep aſcent of truth,
and beholds with pity the grovelling multi.
tude beneath, in a moment his, foot ſlides,
and he tumbles down headlong into the
grave,
Thinking on this, I am obliged to believe,
in juſtice to the Creator of the world, that
there is another ſtate when man ſhall be beta
ter ſituated for contemplation, or rather have
it in his power to remove from object to oba,
ject, and from world to world : and be acs,
commodated with ſenſes, and other helps,
for making the quickeſt and moſt amazing,
diſcoveries. How does ſuch a genius as Sir
Ifaac Newton, from amidſt the darknefs that
involves human underſtanding, break forth,
and appear like one of another fpecies ! The
vaſt machine, we inhabit, lies open to him,
he feems not unacquainted with the general
laws that govern it ; and while with the
tranſport of a philoſopher he beholds and
admires the glorious work, he is capable of
paying at once a more devout and more ra..
tional homage to his maker. But alas ! how
narrow is the proſpect even of ſuch a mind?
and how obſcure to the compaſs, that is taken
in by the ken of an angel : or of a foul but
newly eſcaped from its impriſonment in the
body! For my part, I freely indulge ny.
foul in the confidence of its future grandeur ;


276
IMMORTALITY OF THE SOUL,
it pleaſes me to think that I, who know fo
ſmall a portion of the works of the Creator,
and with flow and painful ſteps creep up and
down on the ſurface of this globe, ſhall ere
long ſhoot away with the ſwiftneſs of im.
agination, trace out the hidden ſprings of
nature's operation, be able to keep pace with
the heavenly bodies in the rapidity of their
career, be a ſpectator of the long chain of
events in the natural and moral worlds, viſit
the ſeveral apartinents of the creation, know
how they are furniſhed and how inhabited,
comprehend the order, and meaſure the
magnitudes and diſtances of thoſe orbs,
which to us ſeem diſpoſed without any reg-
ular deſign, and ſet all in the ſame circle ;
obſerve the dependence of the parts of each
ſyſtem, and, if our minds are big enough, to
graſp the theory of the ſeveral ſyſtems upon
one another, from whence reſults the har-
mony of the univerſe. In eternity a great
deal may be done of this kind. I find it of
uſe to cheriſh this generous ambition ; for
befides the ſecret refreſhment it diffuſes
through my ſoul, it engages me in an en-
deavour to improve my faculties, as well as
to exerciſe them conformably to the rank 1
now hold among reaſonable beings, and the
hope I have of beirg once advanced to a more
exalted ſtation. .
The other, and that the ultimate end of
man, is the enjoyment of God, beyond
which he cannot form a wiſh. Dim at belt
are the conceptions we have of the Supreme


AND A FUTURE STATE.
277
Being, who, as it were, keeps his creatures
in ſuſpenſe, neither diſcovering, nor hiding
himſelf ; by which means the Libertine hath
a handle to diſpute his exiſtence, while the
moſt are content to ſpeak him fair, but in
their hearts prefer every trifling ſatisfaction
to the favour of their Maker, and ridicule
the good man for the fingularity of his choice.
Will there not a time come, when the Free.
thinker ſhall ſee his impious ſchemes over-
turned, and be made a convert to the truths
he hates; when deluded mortals fhall be con.
vinced of the folly of their purſuits, and the
few wife who followed the guidance of hea-
ven, and, ſcorning the blandiſhments of
ſenſe and the ſordid bribes of the world, af-
pired to a celeſtial abode, lhall ſtand poſſeſſed
of their utmoſt wiſh in the viſion of the
Creator ? Here the mind heaves a thought
now and then towards him, and hath ſome
tranſient glances of his preſence : when in
the inſtant it thinks itſelf to have the faſteſt
hold, the object eludes its expectations, and
it falls back tired and baffled to the ground.
Doubtleſs there is ſome more perfect way of
converſing with heavenly beings. Are not
ſpirits capable of mutual intelligence, unleſs
immerſed in bodies, or by their intervention ?
Muſt ſuperior natures depend on inferior for
the main privilege of ſociable beings, that
of converfing with, and knowing each otha
er ? What would they have done, had mat-
ter never been created ? I ſuppoſe, not have
lived in eternal folitude. As incorporeal


278 IMMORTALITY OF THE SOUL,
ſubſtances are of a nobler order, fo be ſure,
their manner of intercourſe is anſwerably
more expedite and intimate. This method
of communication we call intellectual viſion,
as ſomewhat analogous to the ſenſe of ſeeing,
which is the medium of our acquaintance
with this viſible world. And in ſome ſuch
way can God make himſelf the object of im-
mediate intuition to the bleffed ; and as he
can, it is not improbable that he will, always
condeſcending, in the circumſtances of do-
ing it, to the weakneſs and proportion of
finite minds. His works but faintly reflect
the image of his perfections, it is a fecond.
hand knowledge; to have a juſt idea of him,
it may be neceſſary that we ſee him as he is.
But what is that? It is ſomething that ne.
ver entered into the heart of man to con.
ceive ; yet, what we can eaſily conceive,
will be a fountain of unſpeakable, of ever.
lafting rapture. All created glories will fade
and die away in his preſence. Perhaps it
will be my happineſs to compare the world
with the fair exemplar of it in the divine
mind ! perhaps to view the original plan of
thoſe wiſe deſigns that have been executing
in a long ſucceſſion of ages. Thus employ.
ed in finding out his works, and contem-
plating their author, how ſhall I fall proftrate
and adoring, my body ſwallowed up in the
immenſity of matter, my mind in the infin-
itude of his perfections !"


AND A FUTURE STATE. -
279
Multa putans, fortemque animo 'miſeratus iniquam.
Virg Æneid. VI. v. 332.
Revolving in his breaſt their fate unkind,
A gen'rous pity fills his pious mind.
IN compaſſion to thoſe, gloomy mortals,
who by their unbelief are rendered incapable
of feeling thoſe impreſſions of joy and hope,
which the celebration of the late glorious
Eaſter feſtival naturally leaves on the mind of
a Chriſtian, I ſhall in this paper endeavour
to evince that there are grounds to expect a
future ſtate, without fuppofing in the rea-
der any faith at all, not even the belief of a
Deity. Let the moſt ſtedfaſt unbeliever open
his eyes, and take a ſurvey of the ſenſible
world, and then fay, if there be not a con.
nexion and adjuſtment, an exact and con.
ſtant order diſcoverable in all the parts of it.
Whatever be the cauſe, the thing itſelf is
evident to all our faculties. Look into the
animal ſyſtem, the paſſions, lenſes, and lo.
comotive powers, is not the like contrivance
and propriety obſervable in theſe too ! Are
they not fitted to certain ends, and are they
not by nature directed to proper objects ?
Is it poflīble then that the ſmalleit bodies
ſhould, by a management ſuperior to the
wit of man, be diſpoſed, in the moſt excel-
lent manner, agreeable to their reſpective
natures ; and yet the ſpirits or ſouls of men
be neglected, or managed by ſuch rules as
fall ſhort of man's underſtanding ? Shall
every other paſſion be rightly placed by na.


AND A FUTURE STATE.
inen, and the eyes of men are dimmed and
vitiated. Plato's ſenſe in relation to this
point is contained in his Gorgias, where he
introduces Socrates ſpeaking after this man.
ner: I -
"It was in the reign of Saturn provided by
a law, which the gods have ſince continued
down to this time, that they who had lived
virtuouſly and piouſly upon earth, ſhould
after death enjoy a life full of happineſs, in
certain iſlands appointed for the habitation
of the bleſſed; but that ſuch as had lived
wickedly ſhould go into the receptacle of
damned fouls, namely Tartarus, there to
ſuffer the puniſhments they deſerved. But
in all the reign of Saturn, and in the begins
ning of the reign of Jove, living judges were
appointed, by whom each perſon was judged
in his life time in the ſame day on which he
was to die. The conſequence of which was,
that they often paſſed wrong judgments.
Pluto, therefore, who preſided in Tartarus,
and the guardians of the bleffed iſlands,
finding that, on the other ſide, many unfit
perſons were ſent to their reſpective domin-
ions, complained to Jove, who promiſed to
redreſs the evil. He added, the reaſon of
theſe unjuſt proceedings is that men are
judged in the body. Hence many conceal
the blemiſhes and imperfections of their
minds by beauty, birth and riches ; not to
mention, that at the time of trial there are
crouds of witneſſes to atteft their having liv.
ed well. Theſe things millead the judges,
Y ?


282 IMMORTALITY OF THE SOUL,
who being themſelves alſo of the number of
the living are ſurrounded each with his own
body, as with a veil thrown over his mind.
For the future, therefore, it is my intention
that men do not come on their trial till after
death, when they ſhall appear before the
judge, diſrobed of all their corporeal orna.
ments. The judge himſelf too ſhall be a pure
unveiled fpirit, beholding the very loul, the
naked ſoul, of the party before him. With
this view I have already conſtituted my fons,
Minos and Radamanthus, judges, who are
natives of Aſia ; and Æacus, a native of Eu.
rope. Theſe, after death, ſhall hold their
court in a certain meadow, from which
there are two roads, leading the one to
Tartarus, the other to the iſlands of the
bleſſed.”
From this, as from numberleſs other paſ.
ſages of his writings, may be ſeen Plato's O.
pinion of a future ſtate. A thing therefore
in regard to us ſo comfortable, in itſelf to
juſt and excellent, a thing ſo agreeable to the
analogy of nature, and ſo univerſally credit.
ed by all orders and ranks of men, of all na.
tions and ages, what is it that ſhould move
a few men to reject ? Surely there muſt be
ſomething of prejudice in the caſe. I appeal
to the ſecret thoughts of a Free-thinker, it
he does not argue within himſelf after this
manner : The ſenſes and faculties I enjoy at
preſent are viſibly deſigned to repair, or pre.
ſerve the body from the injuries it is liable
to in its preſent circumſtances. But in an


AND A FUTURE STATE,
283
eternal ſtate, where no decays are to be re-
paired, no outward injuries to be fenced a.
gainſt, where there are no fleſh and bones,
nerves, or blood veſſels, there will certainly
be none of the ſenſes; and that there ſhould
be a ſtate of life without the ſenſes it is in.
conceivable.
But as this manner of reaſoning proceeds
from a poverty of imagination, and narrow.
neſs of ſoul in thoſe that uſe it, I ſhall en.
deavour to remedy thoſe defects, and open
their views, by laying before them a caſe
which, being naturally poſſible, may per.
haps reconcile them to the belief of what is
ſupernaturally revealed.
Let us ſuppoſe a man blind and deaf from
his birth, who being grown to a man's ef.
tate, is by the dead palſy, or ſome other
cauſe, deprived of his feeling, taſting, and
ſmelling; and at the ſame time has the im-
pediment of his hearing removed, and the
film taken from his eyes : what the five ſenſes
are to us, that the touch, taſte, and ſmell
were to him. And any other ways of "per.
ception of a more refined and extenſive na.
ture were to him as inconceivable, as to us
thoſe are, which will one day be adapted to
perceive thoſe things which seye hath not
ſeen, nor ear heard, neither hath it entered
into the heart of man to conceive." And
it would be juſt as reaſonable in him to con-
clude, that the loſs of thoſe three ſenſes
could not poffibly be fucceeded by any new
inlets of perception ; as in a modern Free


AND A FUTURE STATE.
285
Beſides, we can eaſily conceive it poſſible
for ſucceſſive duration never to have an end;
though, as you have juſtly obſerved, that e-
ternity which never had a beginning is alto.
gether incomprehenſible ; that is, we can
conceive an eternal duration which may be,
though we cannot an eternal duration which
hath been ; or, if I may uſe the philoſophical
terms, we may apprehend a potential, though
not an actual eternity. .
This notion of a future 'eternity, which
is natural to the mind of man, is an unan.
ſwerable argument that he is a being deſign.
ed for it : eſpecially if we conſider that he
is capable of being virtuous or vicious here;
that he hath faculties improvable to all eter-
nity; and, by a proper or wrong employment
of them, may be happy or miſerable through.
out that infinite duration. Our idea indeed
of this eternity is not of an adequate or
fixed nature, but is perpetually growing and
enlarging itſelf towards the object, which is
too big for human comprehenſion. As we
are now in the beginning of exiſtence, ſo
ſhall we always appear to ourſelves as if we
were for ever entering upon it. After a mil.
lion or two of centuries, ſome conſiderable
things already paſt may ſlip out of our mem-
ory, which, if it be not ſtrengthened in a
wonderful manner, may poſſibly forget that
ever there was a fun or planets, and yet
notwithſtanding the long race that we ſhall
then have run, we ſhall ſtill imagine ourſelves
juſt ſtarting from the goal, and find no pro-


286 IMMORTALITY OF THE SOUL,
portion between that ſpace which we know
had a beginning, and what we are ſure will
never have an end.
But I ſhall leave this ſubject to your man-
agement, and queſtion not but you will
throw it into ſuch lights as ſhall at once im-
prove and entertain your reader.
I have, incloſed, fent you a tranſlation of
the fpeech of Cato on this occaſion, which
hath accidentally fallen into my hands, and
which, for conciſeneſs, purity, and elegance
of phraſe, cannot be ſufficiently admired.
ACT. V. SCENE I.
CATO ſolus, &c.
SIC, fic fe habere rem neceſſe prorfus eft,
Ratione vincis, do lubens manus, Plato.
Quid enim dediffet. Qua dedit frufa nihil,
Æternitatis inſitam cupidinem
Natura ? Quorfum hæc duclis expe&tatio ;
Vitæque non explenda melioris fitis?
Quid vult fibi aliud iſte redeundi in nihil
Horror, füb imis quemque agens præcordiis ?
Chr territa in fe refugit anima, cur tremit
Attonita, quoties, morte ne pareat, timet?
Particula nempe eſt cuique naſcenti indita
Divinior ; que corpus incolens agit ;
Hominique, ſuccinit, tua efl Æternitas.
Æternitas ! O lubricum nimis aſpici,
Mixtumque dulci gaudium formidine !
Qua demigrabitur alia linc in corpora ?
Qua terra mox incognita ? Quis orbis novui,


· AND A FUTURE STATE. - 287
Manet incolendus ? Quanta erit mutatio ?
Hæc intuenti Spatia mihi quaqua palent
Immenfa : ſed colignofa nox premit ;
Nec luce clara vult videra fingula.
Figendus bic pes ; certa funt hæc ha&enus :
Si quod gubernet numen humanum genus,
(At, quod guber net, elle clamant omnia)
Virtute non gaudere certe non poteft :
Nec effe non beata, qua gaudet poteft
Sed qua beata fede ? Quove in tempore ?
Hæc quanta quanta terra, tota eft Cæfaris.
Quid dubius hæret animus ufque adeo? Brevi
Hic nodum hic omnem expedict. Arma en induor.
[Enſi manum admovens,
In utramque partem fa&a ; quæque vim inferant,
Et qua propulfent ! Dextera intentat necem
Vitam finiftra : vulnus hæc dabit manus :
Altera medelam vulneris ; hic ad exitum
Deducet, i&tu fimplici ; hæc vetant mori.
Secura ridet anima mucronis minas,
Enſeſque ftri&os, interire neſcia.
Extinguet ætas fidera diuturnior :
Ætate languens ipſe sol obſcurius
Emittet orbi conſeneſcenti jubar :
Natura et ipfa fentiet quondam vices
Ætatis ; annis ipfa deficiet gravis ; .
At tibi juventus, at tibi immortalitas ;
Tibi parta divum eft vita. Periment mutuis !
Elementa fefe et interibunt iaibus :
Tu permanebis fola femper integra,
Tu cun&tu rerum qualſa cun&ta naufragma
Jum portu in ipfo tuta, contemplabere.
Compage rupta, corruent in ſe invicem,
Orbeſque fradis ingerentur orbibus ;
Illafa tu ſedebis extra fragmina.


2'90 IMMORTALITY OF THE SOUL,
ſtance of my being that I contemplate with
more joy than my immortality. I can eaſily
overlook my preſent momentary ſorrow,
when I reflect that it is in my power to be
happy a thouſand years hence. If it were not
for this thought I had rather be an oyfter
than a man ; the moſt ſtupid and ſenſeleſs
of animals, than a reaſonable mind, tortur.
ed with an extreme innate defire of that
perfection which it deſpairs to obtain.
It is with great pleaſure that I behold in-
ſtinct, reaſon, and faith, concurring to at-
teſt this comfortable truth. It is revealed
from heaven, it is diſcovered by philoſophers,
and the ignorant unenlightened part of man.
kind have a natural propenſity to believe it.
It is an agreeable entertainment to reflect on
the various ſhapes under which this doctrine
has appeared in the world. The Pythagore.
an tranſmigration, the ſenſual habitations of
the Mahometan, and the fkady realms of
Pluto, do all agree in the main points, the
continuation of our exiſtence, and the diſtri.
bution of rewards and puniſhments, propor-
tioned to the merits or demerits of men in
this life.
But in all theſe ſchemes there is ſomething
grofs and improbable that ſhocks a reaſonable
and ſpeculative mind; whereas nothing can
be more rational and ſublime than the Chrif.
tian idea of a future ſtate. Eye hath not
ſeen, nor ear heard, neither hath it entered
into the heart of man to conceive the things
which God hath prepared for thoſe that love


AND A FUTURE STATE.
291
him. The above mentioned ſchemes are
narrow tranſcripts of our present ſtate : but
in this indefinite deſcription there is ſome.
thing ineffably great and noble. The mind
of man muſt be raiſed to a higher pitch, not
only to partake the enjoyments of the Chriſ.
tian paradiſe, but even to be able to frame
any notion of them.
Nevertheleſs, in order to gratify our im-
agination, and by way of condeſcenſion to
our low way of thinking, the ideas of light,
glory, a crown, &c. are made ufe of to a.
dumbrate that which we cannot directly un.
derſtand. “ The Lamb which is in the
midſt of the throne ſhall feed them, and
ſhall lead them into living fountains of wa.
ters : and God ſhall wipe away all tears from
their eyes. And there thall be no more
death, neither forrow nor crying, neither
ſhall there be any more pain ; for the former
things are paſſed away, and behold all
things are new. There ſhall be no night
there, and they need no candle, neither
light of the ſun ; for the Lord God giveth
them light, and ſhall make them drink of the
river of his pleaſures : and they fhall reign
for ever and ever. They ſhall receive a
crown of glory which fadeth not away."
Theſe are cheering reflections : and I have
often wondered that men could be found ſo
dull and phlegmatic, as to prefer the thought
of annihilation before them, or ſo ill-natur-
ed as to endeavour to perſuade mankind to
the diſbelief of what is ſo pleaſing and pr."


292
IMMORTALITY OF THE SOUL,
itable even in the proſpect ; or ſo blind as
not to ſee that there is a Deity, and if there
be, that this ſcheme of things flows from
his attributes, and evidently correſponds
with the other parts of his creation.
I know not how to account for this ab
ſurd turn of thought, except it proceed
from a want of other employment, joined
with an affectation of fingularity. I ſhall,
therefore, inform our modern Free-thinkers
of two points, whereof they feein to be ig.
norant. The firſt is, that it is not the being
fingular, but being ſingular for ſomething
that argues either extraordinary endowments
of nature, or benevolent intententions to
mankind, which draws the admiration and
eſteem of the world. A miſtake in this
point naturally ariſes from that confuſion of
thought which I do not remember to have
ſeen ſo great inſtances of in any writers, as
in certain modern Free-thinkers. .
The other point is, that there are innu.
merable objects within the reach of a hunian
mind, and each of theſe objects may be
viewed in innumerable lights and poſitions,
and the relations ariſing between them are
innumerable. There is, therefore, an infin.
ity of things whereon to employ their
thoughts, if not with advantage to the world,
at leaſt with amuſement to themſelves, and
without offence or prejudice to other people.
If they proceed to exert their talent of Free.
thinking in this way, they may be inno.
cently dull, and no one take any notice of


298
IMMORTALITY OF THE SOUL,
that we cannot believe the ſoul is endued
with any faculty which is of no uſe to it ;
that whenever any one of theſe faculties is
tranſcendently pleaſed, the ſoul is in a ſtate
of happineſs; and, in the laſt place, con.
fidering that the happineſs of another world
is to be the happineſs of the whole man, who
can queſtion but that there is an infinite va.
riety in thoſe pleaſures we are ſpeaking of;
and that this fullneſs of joy will be made up
of all thoſe pleaſures which the nature of the
ſoul is capable of receiving.
We ſhall be the more confirmed in this
doctrine if we obſerve the nature of variety
with regard to the mind of man. The foul
does not care to be always in the fame bent?
the faculties relieve one another by turns,
and receive an additional pleaſure from the
novelty of thoſe objects about which they
are converſant.
Revelation likewiſe very much confirms
this notion under the different views which
it gives us of our future happineſs. In the
deſcription of the throne of God, it repre-
fents to us all thoſe objects which are able to
gratify the ſenſes and imagination. In very
many places it intimates to us all the happi.
neſs which the underſtanding can poffibly re.
ceive in that ſtate where all things thall be
revealed to us, and we ſhall know even as
we are known. The raptures of devotion,
of divine love, the pleaſure of converſing
with our bleſſed Saviour, with an innumera.
ble hoſt of angels, and with the ſpirits of


AND A FUTURE STATE.
299
juſt men made perfect, are likewiſe revealed
to us in ſeveral parts of the holy writings.
There are alſo mentioned thoſe hierarchies of
governments, in which the bleſſed ſhall be
ranged one above another, and in which we
may be ſure a great part of our happineſs
will likewiſe confift; for it will not be there
as in this world, where every one is aiming
at power and fuperiority ; but, on the con-
trary, every one will find that ſtation the
moſt proper for him in which he is placed,
and will probably think that he could not
have been ſo happy in anyother ſtation. Theſe,
and many other particulars, are marked in
divine revelation, as the ſeveral ingredients
of our happineſs in heaven, which all imply
ſuch a variety of joys, and ſuch a gratifica.
tion of the ſoul in all its different faculties,
as I have been here mentioning.
Some of the Rabbins tell us that the cher.
ubims are a ſet of angels who know moſt,
and the ſeraphims a ſet of angels who love
moſt. Whether this diſtinction be not alto-
gether imaginary I ſhall not here examine;
but it is highly probable, that among the
ſpirits of good men there may be ſome who
will be more pleaſed with the employment
of one faculty than of another, and this per.
haps according to thoſe innocent and virtu.
ous habits or inclinations which have here
taken the deepeſt root.
I might here apply this conſideration to
the ſpirits of wicked men with relation to
the pain which they ſhall ſuffer in every one


306 IMMORTALITY OF THE SOUL,
.
of their faculties, and the reſpective miſeries
which ſhall be appropriated to each faculty
in particular. But leaving this to the reflec-
tion of my readers, I ſhall conclude with ob-
ſerving how we ought to be thankful to our
great Creator, and rejoice in the being
which he has beſtowed upon us, for having
made the foul ſuſceptible of pleaſure by ſo
many different ways. We ſee by what a va-
horiety of paſſages, joy and gladneſs may enter
... into the thoughts of man ; how wonderfully
a human fpirit is framed to imbibe its proper
ſatisfactions, and taſte the goodneſs of its
Creator. We may therefore look into our.
ſelves with rapture and amazement, and can-
not ſufficiently expreſs our gratitude to him,
who has encompaſſed us with ſuch a profu-
fion of bleſſings, and opened in us ſo many
capacities of enjoying them.
There cannot be a ſtronger argument that
God has deſigned us for a ſtate of future
cappineſs, and for that heaven which he has
evealed to us, than that he has thus natur.
lly qualified the ſoul for it, and made it a
eing capable of receiving ſo much bliſs. He
rould never have made ſuch faculties in
ain, and have endued us with powers that
rere not to be exerted on ſuch objects as are
ited to them. It is very manifeſt, by the
ward frame and conftitution of our minds,
at he has adapted them to an infinite vari.
of pleaſures and gratifications which are
ot to be met with in this life. We ſhould
erifcre at all times take care that we do


ĐEATH AND JUDGEMENT.
301

not diſappoint this his gracious purpoſe and
intention towards us, and make thoſe facul.
ties, which he formed as ſo many qualifications
for happineſs and rewards, to be the inſtru.
ments of pain and puniſhment.
seet. XI.
DEATH AND JUDGEMENT.
TO THE AUTHOR OF THE GUARDIAN.
SIR,
THE incloſed is a faithful tranſlation
from an old author, which if it deſerves
your notice, let the reader gueſs whether he
was a Heathen or a Chriſtian.
l am, Your moſt humble Servant.
66 I cannot, my friends, forbear letting
you know what I think of death; for, me.
thinks, I view and underſtand it much bet.
ter, the nearer I approach to it. I am con-
vinced that your fathers, thoſe illuſtrious
perſons whom I ſo much loved and honour-
ed, do not ceaſe to live, though they have
paſſed through what we call death ; they
are undoubtedly ſtill living, but it is that
fort of life which alone deſerves truly to be
called life. In effect, while we are confined
to bodies, we ought to eſteem ourſelves no
other than a ſort of galley ſlaves at the chain,
ſince the ſoul, which is ſomewhat divine,
and deſcends from heaven as the place of its
original, ſeems debaſed and difhonoured by
A a rte


202
DEATH AND JUDGEMENT.
this mixture of fleſh and blood, and, to be
in a ttate of baniſhment from its celeſtial
country. I cannot help thinking too, that
one main reaſon of uniting fouls to bodies,
was, that the great work of the univerſe
might have ſpectators to admire the beauti-
ful order of nature, the regular motion of
heavenly bodies, who ſhould ſtrive to ex-
preſs that regularity in the uniformity of
their lives. When I conſider the boundleſs
activity of our minds, the remembrance we
have of things paſt, our foreſight of what
is to come : when I reflect on the 'noble dil-
coveries, and vaſt improvements, by which
theſe minds have advanced arts and ſcien.
ces ; I am entirely perſuaded, and out of all
doubt, that a nature which has in itſelf a
fund of ſo many excellent things cannot
poſſibly be mortal. I obſerve further, that
my mind is altogether ſimple without the
mixture of any ſubſtance of nature different
from its own ; I conclude from thence that
it is indiviſible,andconſequently cannot perifli.
By no means think, therefore, my dear
friends, when I ſhall have quitted you, that
I ceaſe to be, or ſhall fubfift no where. Re-
member that while we live together you do
not ſee my mind, and yet are ſure that I
have one actuating and moving my body :
'doubt not then but that this fame mind will
have a being when it is ſeparated, though
you cannot then perceive its actions. What
nonſenſe would it be to pay thoſe honours to
great men after their deaths, which we con-
Itantly do, if their ſouls did not then ſub-


DEJTH AND JUDGEMENT.
303
fiſt ? For my own part, I could never im.
agine that our minds live only when united
to our bodies, and die when they leave
them; or that they ſhall ceaſe to think and
underſtand, when diſengaged from bodies,
which without them have neither ſenſe or
reaſon : on the contrary, I believe the ſoul,
when ſeparated from matter, to enjoy the
greateft purity and fimplicity of its nature,
and to have much more wiſdom and light
than while it wąs united. We ſee when the
body dies, what becomes of all the parts
which compoſe it ; but we do not ſee the
mind, either in the body, or when it leaves
it. Nothing more reſembles death than
sleep, and it is in that ſtate that the foul
chiefly ſhews it has fo.nething divine in its
nature. How much more then muſt ic ſhew
it, when entirely diſengaged ?
Afista eft numine quando
Jam propiore Dei --Virg. Æ eid. VI. v. 250
When all the god came ruſhing on her ſoul.
Dryden.
THE following letter comes to me from:
that excellent man in holy orders, whom I.
have mentioned more than once, as one of
that fociety who affifts nie in my fpecula-
tions. It is a thougit in fickneſs, and of a
very ſerious nature, for which reaſon I give
it a place in the paper of this diy.
; SIR,
The indiſpoſition which has long hun


304
DEATH AND JUDGEMENT.
upon me, is at laſt grown to ſuch a head,
that it muſt quickly make an end of me, or
of itſelf. You may imagine, that whilſt I
am in this bad ſtate of health, there are
none of your works which I read with great-
er pleaſure than your Saturday's papers. I
ſhould be very glad if I could furniſh you
with any hints for that day's entertainment.
Were I able to dreſs up ſeveral thoughts of
a ferious nature, which have made great im.
preſſions on my mind during a long fit of
fickneſs, they might not be an improper en.
tertaininent for that occaſion.
· Among all the reflections which uſually
riſe in the mind of a fick man, who has
time and inclination to conſider his approach.
ing end, there is none more natural than
that of his going to appear naked and unbo-
died before him who made him. When a
man conſiders, that, as ſoon as the vital un-
on is diſſolved, he ſhall ſee that Supreme
Being, whom he now contemplates at a dif-
tance, and only in his works ; or, to ſpeak
more philoſophically, when by ſome faculty
in the ſoul he ſhall apprehend the divine Be.
ing, and be more ſenſible of his preſence,
than we are now of the preſence of any ob-
ject which the eye beholds : a man muſt be
loft in careleſſneſs and ſtupidity, who is not
alarmed at ſuch a thought ! Dr. Sherlock, in
his excellent treatiſe upon death, has repre-
lented, in very ſtrong and lively colours, the
ftate of the ſoul in its firſt ſeparation from
the body, with regard to that inviſible world
which every where ſurrounds us, though


DEATH AND JUDGEMENT.
305
we are not able to diſcover it through this
groffer world of matter, which is accommo.
dated to our ſenſes in this life. His words
are as follow.
'. That death, which is our leaving this
world, is nothing elſe but our putting off
theſe bodies, teaches us, that it is only our
union to theſe bodies which intercepts the
fight of the other world : the other world
is not at ſuch a diſtance from us as we may
jinagine : the throne of Gud indeed is at a
great remove from this carth, above the
third heavens, where he diſplays his glory
to thoſe bleſſed fpirits which encompaſs his
throne ; but as ſoon as we ſtep out of theſe
bodies, we ſtep into the other world, which
is not fo properly another world, (for there
is the fame heaven and earth ſtill) as a new
ſtate of life. To live in theſe bodies is to
live in this world, to live out of them is te
remove into the next : for while our ſouls
are confined to theſe bodies, and can look
only through theſe material caſements,
nothing bu: what is material can affect us ;
nay, nothing but what is ſo groſs, that it
can reflect light, and convey the ſhapes and
colours of things with it to the eye ; fo that,
though within this vilible world there be a
more glorious ſcene of things than what ap.
pears to us, we perceive nothing at all of it;
for this veil of fleſh parts the viſible and in-
viſible world : but when we put off theſe
bodies, there are new and ſurpriſing won.
ders preſent themſelves to our views ; when
ined to thext: for whif them is to
A a 2


306
DEATH AND JUDGEMENT.
i
theſe material ſpectacles are taken off, the
foul, with its own naked eyes, fees what
was inviſible before ; and then we are in the
other world, when we can fee, and con-
verſe with it : thus St. Paul tells us, That
when we are at home in the body, we are
abſent from the Lord; but when we are ab.
ſent from the body, we are preſent with the
Lord, 2 Cor. v. 6. 8. And, methinks, this
is enough to cure us of our fondneſs for
theſe bodies, unleſs we think it more defira.
ble to be confined to a priſon, and to look
through a grate all our lives, which gives us
but a very narrow profpect, and that none
of the beſt neither, than to be ſet at liberty
to view all the glories of the world. What
would we give now for the leaſt glimpfe of
that inviſible world, which the firſt ſtep we
take out of theſe bodies will preſent us with ?
There are ſuch things as eye hath not feen,
nor ear heard, neither hath it entered into
the heart of man to conceive : Death opens
our eyes, enlarges our proſpect, preſents us
with a new and more glorious world, which
we can never fee while we are fhut up in
fleſh ; which ſhould make us as willing to
part with this veil as to take the film off our
eyes which hinders our fight.
As a thinking man cannot but be very
much affected with the idea of his appearing
in the preſence of that Being whom none
can ſee and live, he muſt be much more af
• fected when he conſiders that this Being
whom he appears before will examine all the
actions of his paſt life, and reward or punilla


DEATH AND JUDGEMENT.
307
Dann frailti 10 man's his lifelt
*** him accordingly. I muſt confeſs that I think
there is no ſcheme of religion, beſides that
of Chriftianity, which can poſſibly ſupport
the moſt virtuous perſon under this thought.
Let a man's innocence be what it will, let
his virtues riſe to the higheſt pitch of per-
fection attainable in his life, there will be
ſtill in him ſo many ſecret fins, ſo many hu.
man frailties, ſo many offences of ignorance,
paſſion, and prejudice, ſo many unguarded
words and thoughts, and in ſhort, fo many
defects in his beſt actions, that without the
advantages of ſuch an expiation and atone.
ment as Chriſtianity has revealed to us, it is
impoſſible that he ſhould be cleared before
his ſovereign Judge, or that he ſhould be a.
ble to ſtand in his fight. Our holy religion
fuggeſts to us the only means whereby our
guilt may be taken away, and our imperfect
obedience accepted.
It is this ſeries of thought that I have en. ·
deavoured to expreſs in the following hymn,
which I have compoſed during this my lick.
neſs..
I. WHEN riſing from the bed of death,
O'erwhelm’d with guilt and fear,
I ſee my Maker, face to face,
O how ſhall I appear !
II. If yet, while pardon may be found,
... And mercy may be fought,
My heart with inward horror ſhrinks,
And trembles at the thought,
III. When thou, O Lord ! ſhalt Itand diſclos'd
In majeſty ſevere, .
And ſit in judgement on my ſoul,
O how hhall I appear ! ..


310
DEATH AND JUDGEMENT.
they are ſo far from having ſoured my tem.
per, that as I have a mind perfectly compoſed,
and a ſecret ſpring of joy in my heart, ſo my
converſation is pleaſant, and my counten.
ance ſincere. I taſte all the innocent fatis.
factions of life pure and ſerene; I have no
ſhare in pleaſures that leave a ſting behind
them; nor am I cheated with that kind of
mirth, in the inidſt of which there is heavi.
nels.”
IDE,
Omnem crede diem tibi diluxiſſe ſupremum.
Hor. lib. I. epiſt. 4. v. 13.
Think ev'ry day, ſoon as the day is palt,
That thou haſt liv’d, of thy fhurt life the lalt. .
Mr. IRONSIDE,
THE following letter was really written
by a young gentleman in a languiſhing ill.
neſs, which both himſelf and thoſe who at.
tended him thought it impoſſible for him to
outlive. If you think ſuch an image of the
ſtate of a man's mind in that circumſtance be
worth publiſhing, it is at your ſervice, and
take it as follows;
Dear Sir,
You formerly obſerved to me, that noth-
ing made a more ridiculous figure in a man's
life, than the diſparity we often find in hiin
ſick and well. Thus, one of an unfortunate
conftitution is perpetually exhibiting a miſ.
erable example of the weakneſs of his mind,
or of his body, in their turns. I have had
frequent opportunities of late to conſider my-
felf in theſe different views, and hope I have


DEATH AND JUDGEMENT.
311
earthly me; it team in Sicknes
received ſome advantage by it. If what Mr.
Waller ſays be true, that
The foul's dark cottage, batter'd and decay'd,
Lets in new light thro' chinks that time has made,
then ſurely ficknefs, contributing no leſs than
old age to the ſhaking down this ſcaffolding
of the body, may diſcover the incloſed ſtruc-
ture more plainly. Sickneſs is a fort of ear.
ly old age ; it teaches us a diffidence in our
earthly ſtate, and inſpires us with the thoughts
of a future, better than a thouſand volumes
of philofophers and divines. It gives ſo warn.
ing a concuſſion to thoſe props of our vanity,
our ſtrength and youth, that we think of
fortifying ourſelves within, when there is ſo
little dependence on our out-works. Youth,
at the very beſt, is but a betrayer of human
life in a gentler and ſmoother manner than
age: It is like a ſtream that nourilhes a plant
upon its bank, and cauſes it to flouriſh and
bloſſom to the fight, but at the ſame time is
undermining it at the root in ſecret. My
youth has dealt more fairly and openly with
me; it has afforded ſeveral proſpects of my
danger, and given me an advantage not very
common to young men, that the attractions
of the world have not dazzled me very
much ; and I began, where moſt people end,
with a full conviction of the emptineſs of all
forts of ambition, and the unſatisfactory na-
ture of all human pleaſures. :
When a ſmart fit of fickneſs tells me this
ſcurvy tenement of my body will fall in a
little time I am even as unconcerned as was
that honeſt Hibernian, who, being in bed in


312
DEATH AND JUDGEMENT:
the great ſtorm ſome years ago, and told the
houſe would tumble over his head, made
anſwer, What care I for the houſe? I am
only a lodger. I fancy it is the beſt time to
die when one is in the beſt humour ; and fo
exceſſively weak as I now am, I may ſay with
conſcience, that I am not at all uneaſy at the
thought that many men, whom I never had
any eſteem for, are likely to enjoy this world
after me. When I reflect what an inconfid-
erable little atom every man is, with reſpect
to the whole creation, methinks, it is a hame
to be concerned at the removal of ſuch a triv.
ial animal as I am. The morning after my
exit, the ſun will riſe as bright as ever, the
flowers ſmell as ſweet, the plants ſpring as
green, the world will proceed in its old
courſe, people will laugh as heartily, and
marry as faſt as they were uſed to do. “ The
memory of man (as it is elegantly expreffed
in the wiſdom of Solomon) pafſeth away as
the remembrance of a gueſt that tarrieth but
one day.” There are reaſons enough in the
fourth chapter of the ſame book to make
any young man contented with the proſpect.
of death. « For honourable age is not that
which ſtandeth in length of time, or is meaſ,
ured by number of years. But wiſdom is
the grey hair to men, and an unſpotted life
is old age.”
. He was taken away ſpeedily, leſt that
wickedneſs ſhould alter his underſtand.
ing, or deceit beguile his ſoul.
I am your's.
THE END.








NE
ADDISON, Joseph
The evidences of the
Christian religion
611
A225 ev
1812


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