9hA*ty M+y 4e- Mr } FRANCIS D. HETZLE $ ^latn anti JFanrg Bui | And BOOK BINVIi'f' ’ J Sun Iron Build>- THE BRITISH CLASSICKs VOLUME THE SIXTY-THIRD. CONTAINING THE FIFTH VOLUME OF STERNE’S WORKS. isth S1LRMOIC ZBOX. 2>ut. fy JK2>unrB Sc Co. THE WORKS OF LAURENCE STERNE. IX SIX VOLUMES 1 CONTAINING THE LIFE AND OPINIONS OF TRISTRAM SHANDY, GENT.\ SENTIMENTAL JOURNEY THROUGH FRANCE AND ITALY.. SERMONS..LETTERS, kc. WITH A LIFE OF THE AUTHOR, WRITTEN BY HIMSELF. VOLUME V. NEW YORK: PUBLISHED BY WILLIAM DURELL AND CO. C.Stebbins, Printer, Boston. 1814 .’ BOSTON COLLTPE LIBRARY CHESTNUT HILL, MASS, "v»1\ e* c r \fci3 35 ^ 4-1 5 l 0 An 169511 CONTENTS, SERMON XXIII. p. 11. THE PARABLE OF THE RICH MAN AND LA¬ ZARUS CONSIDERED. And lie said unto him, If they hear not Moses and the prophets, neither will they be persuaded though one should rise from the dead.——Luke xvi. 31. SERMON XXIV. p. 24. PRIDE. But thou, when thou art bidden, go and sit down in the lowest room, that when he that bade thee cometh, he may say to thee, Friend, go up higher ; then sho.lt thou have worship in the presence of them who sit at meat with thee; for whosoever exalteth himself shall be abased; and he that humbleth himself shall be exalted. -Luke siv. 10, 11. SERMON XXY. p. 36. HUMILITY. Learn of me, for I am meek and lowly in heart ; and ye shall find rest unto your souls.-Mat. xi. ‘29. SERMON XXVI. p. 48. ADVANTAGES OF CHRISTIANITY TO THE WORLD. Professing themselves to be wise, they became fools.,-Rom. i. 22. SERMON XXVII. p. 50 . THE ABUSES OF CONSCIENCE CONSIDERED. —For we trust we have a good conscience.——Ileb. xi', i. IS. VI CONTENTS. SERMON XXVIII. p. 73. TEMPORAL ADVANTAGES OF RELIGION. Her ways are ways of pleasantness, and all her paths are peace. --Prov. iii. ,17. SERMON XXIX. p. 82. OUR CONVERSATION IN HEAVEN. For our conversation is in heaven.-Phil. iii. 20. SERMON XXX. p. 91. DESCRIPTION OF THE WORLD. Seeing, then, that all these things shall be dissolved,—what manner of persons ought ye to be in all holy conversation and godliness ? looking and hastening unto the coming of God.-2 Pet. iii. xi. SERMON XXXI. p. 10 L st. peter’s character. And when Peter saw it, he answered unto the people. Ye men of Israel, why marvel ye at this ? or why look ye so earnestly on us as though by our own power or holiness we had made this man to walk ?—*—Acts iii. 12. SERMON XXXII. p. 105. THIRTIETH OF JANUARY. And I said, O my God, I am ashamed, and blush to lift up my face to thee, my God :—for our iniquities are increased over our head, and our trespass is grown up unto the heavens.—Since the days of our fathers have we been in a great trespass unto this day.-Ezra ix. 6,7. SERMON XXXIII. p. 125. Despisest thou the riches of his goodness, and forbearance, and long- suffering,—knowing that the goodness of God leadeth thee to repentance ?- —Rom. ii. 4. Because sentence against an evil work is not executed speedily, there¬ fore the hearts of the sons of men is fully set in them to do evil. —Eccles, viii. 17. CONTENTS. vii SERMON XXXIV. p. 136 TRUST IN GOD. Pat thou thy trust in the Lord-Psalm xxxvii. 3. SERMON XXXV. p. 147. AGAINST THE CRIME OF MURDER. But if a man come presumptuously upon his neighbour, to slay him with guile, thou shalt take him from my altar, that he may die. -Exod. xxi. 14. SERMON XXXVI. p. 157. SANCTITY OF THE APOSTLES. Blessed is he that shall not be offended in me.-Matt. xi. 6 SERMON XXXVII. p. 166. PENANCES. And his commandments are not grievous.-1 John v. 3. SERMON XXXVIII. p. 177- ON ENTHUSIASM. For without me, ye can do nothing.——John xv. 5. SERMON XXXIX. p. 190. ETERNAL ADVANTAGES OF RELIGION. Let us hear the conclusion of the whole matter :—Fear God, and keep his commandments ; for thi3 is the whole duty of man.-- Eccles. xii. i3. SERMON XL. p. 199. ASA : A THANKSGIVING SERMON. And they sware unto the Lord with a loud voice, and with shouting, and with trumpets, and with cornets.—And all the men of Ju¬ dah rejoiced at the oath.——2 Chron. xv. 14. viii CONTENTS. SERMON XLI. p. 210. FOLLOW PEACE. Follow peace with all men, and holiness ; without which, no man shall see the Lord-Heb. xii. 14. SERMON XLII. p. 220 SEARCH THE SCRIPTURES. Search the Scriptures.-John v 39. SERMON XLIII. p. 228. O come, let us worship and fall down before him :—for he is the Lord our God.-Psalm xcv. 6, 7. SERMON XLIV. p. 238. THE WAYS OF PROVIDENCE JUSTIFIED TO MAN. Behold, these are the ungodly who prosper in the world ; they in¬ crease in riches. Verily, I have cleansed my heart in vain, and washed my hands in innocency.——Psalm lxxiii. 12, 13. SERMON XLV. p. 218. THE INGRATITUDE OF ISRAEL. For so it was,—that the children of Israel had sinned against the Lord their God, who had brought them up out of the land of Egypt.-2 Kings xvii. 7. SERMONS BY LAURENCE STERNE, SERMON XXIIL THE PARABLE OF THE RICH MAN AND LAZARUS CONSIDERED. LUKE XVI. 81. And he said unto him. If they hear not Moses and the prophets, neither will they be persuaded though one should rise from the dead. These words are the conclusion of the parable of the rich man and Lazarus ; the design of which was, to shew us the necessity of conducting our¬ selves, by such lights as God had been pleased to give us : the sense and meaning of the patriarch’s final determination in the text being this, That they who will not be persuaded to answer the great pur¬ poses of their being, upon such arguments as arc offered to them in scripture, will never be persuad¬ ed to it by any other means, how extraordinary so¬ ever “ If they hear not Moses and the prophets, “ neither will they be persuaded though one should u rise from the dead.” ——Rise from the dead ! To what purpose ? What could such a messenger propose or urge, which had not been proposed and urged already - ? The novelty or surprise of such a visit, might awak¬ en the attention of a curious unthinking people, who spent their time in nothing else but to hear and tell some new thing ; but ere the wonder was well over, some new wonder would start up in its room, SERMON XXVI. n and then the man might return to the dead, from whence he came, and not a soul make one inquiry about him. —This, I fear, would be the conclusion of the af¬ fair. But to bring this matter still closer to us, let tis imagine, if there is nothing unworthy in it, that God, in compliance with a curious world,—or froma better motive,—in compassion to a sinful one, should vouchsafe to send one from the dead, to call home our conscience and make us better Christians, bet¬ ter citizens, better men, and better servants to God than we are. Now bear with me, I beseech you, in framing such an address as, I imagine, would be most likely to gain our attention, and conciliate the heart to what he had to say : the great channel to it is in¬ terest and there he would set out. He might tell us, (after the most indisputable credentials of whom he served) That he was come a messenger from the great God of heaven, with reiterated proposals, whereby much was to be grant¬ ed us on his side,—and something to be parted with on ours : but that, not to alarm us,—’twas neither houses, nor land, nor possessions ;—*twas neither wives, nor children, nor brethren, nor sis¬ ters, which we had to forsake ;—no one rational pleasure to be given up ;—no natural endearment to be torn from.-- In a word, he would tell us, We had nothing to part with,—but what was not for our interests to beep,—and that was our vices ; which brought death and misery to our doors. He would go on, and prove it by a thousand ar¬ guments, that to be temperate and chaste, and just ' SERMON XXIII. 13 and peaceable, and charitable and kind to one anoth¬ er,—was only doing that for Christ’s sake, which was most for our own ; and that, were we in a capacity of capitulating with God, upon what terms we would submit to his government;—he would convince us, ’twould be impossible for the wit of man to frame any proposals more for our present interests, than “ to lead an uncorrupted life,—to do the thing which “ is lawful and right,” and lay such restraints upon our appetites as are for the honour of human nature and the refinement of human happiness. When this point was made out, and the alarms from interest got over,—the spectre might address himself to the other passions.—In doing this, he could but give us the most engaging ideas of the perfections of God ;—nor could he do more than impress the most awful ones of his majesty and power ne might remind us, that we are crea¬ tures but of a day, hastening to the place from whence we shall not return j—that during our stay we stood accountable to this Being, who, though rich in mercies,—yet was terrible in his judgments j —that he took notice of all our actions,—that he was about our paths, and about our beds, and spied out all our ways ; and was so pure in his nature, that he would punish even the wicked imaginations of the heart ; and had appointed a day wherein he would enter into this enquiry. He might add,- But what ?—with all the eloquence of an inspired tongue, What could he add or say to us, which has not been said before ? The experiment has been tried a thousand times upon the hopes and fears, the reasons and passions of men, by all the powers vol. v. B 14 SERMON XXIII. of nature :—the applications of which have been so great, and the variety of addresses so unanswera¬ ble, that there is not a greater paradox in the world than that so great a religion should be no better recommended by its professors. The fact is, mankind are not always in a humour to be convinced ;—and so long as the pre-engage¬ ment with our passion subsists, it is not argumenta¬ tion which can do the business ;—we may amuse ourselves with the ceremony of the operation, but we reason not with the proper faculty, when we see every thing in the shape and colouring in which the treachery of the senses paints it : and indeed, were we only to look into the world, and observe how in¬ clinable men are to defend evil, as well as to com¬ mit it,—one would think, at first sight, they believ¬ ed that all discourses of religion and virtue were mere matters of speculation for men to entertain some idle hours with ; and conclude very naturally, that we seemed to be agreed in no one thing but speaking well and acting ill. But the truest com¬ ment is in the text ;—“ If they hear not Moses and the prophets,” See. If they are not brought over to the interests of re¬ ligion upon such discoveries as God has made,—or has enabled them to make, they will stand out against all evidence :—in vain shall one rise for their con¬ viction ;—was the earth to give up her dead,_ ’twouldbe the same;—every man would return again to his course, and the same bad passions would pro¬ duce the same bad actions to the end of the world. This is the principal lesson of the parable ; but I must enlarge upon the whole of it,—because it has some other useful lessons ; and they will best pre¬ sent themselves to us as we go along. SERMON XXIII. i.5 In this parable, which is one of the most remark¬ able in the gospel, our Saviour represents a scene, in which, by a kind of contrast, two of the most op¬ posite conditions that could be brought together from human life, are pass’d before our imaginations. The one, a man exalted above the level of man¬ kind, to the highest pinnacle of prosperity,—to rich¬ es,—to happiness ;—I say hafipAnesx -.—in compli¬ ance with ihe world, and on a supposition that the possession ot riches must make us happy, when the very pursuit of them so warms our imaginations, that we stake both body and soul upon the event; as if they were things not to be purchased at too dear a rate. They are the wages of wisdom,—as well as of folly.—Whatever was the case here, is beyond the purport of the parable ,—the scripture is silent, and so should we ; it marks only his out- ward condition, by the common appendages of it, in the two great articles of vanity and appetite :—to gratify the one, he was clothed in purple and fine linen : to satisfy the other, fared sumptuously every day ;—and upon every thing too, we’ll suppose, that climates could furnish,—that luxury could in¬ vent,—or the hand of science could torture. Close by his gates is represented an object, whom Providence might seem to have placed there to' cure the pride of man, and shew him to what wretch¬ edness his condition might be brought: a creature in all the shipwreck of nature ;—helpless,—undone^ —m want of friends,—in want of health,—and ill want of every thing with them which his distresses called for. In this state he is described as desiring to be fed with the crumbs which fell from the rich man’s table; 16 SERMON XXIir. and though the case is not expressly put, that he was refused, yet, as the contrary is not affirmed in the historical part of the parable,—or pleaded after by the other, that he shewed mercy to the misera¬ ble,—we may conclude his request was unsuccess¬ ful ;—like too many others in the world, either so high lifted up in it, that they cannot look down dis¬ tinctly enough upon the sufferings of their fellow- creatures,—or, by long surfeiting in a continual course of banqueting and good cheer, they forget there is such a distemper as hunger in the catalogue of human infirmities. Overcharged with this, and perhaps a thousand unpitied wants in a pilgrimage through an unhos- pitable world,—the poor man sinks silently under his burden.—But, good God ! whence is this ? Why dost thou suffer these hardships in a world which thou hast made ? Is it for thy honour that one man should eat the bread of fulness, and so many of his own stock and lineage eat the bread of sorrow ? —That this man should go clad in purple, and have all his paths strewed with rose-buds of delight, whilst so many mournful passengers go heavily along, and pass by his gates, hanging down their heads ? Is it for thy glory, O God, that so large a shade of misery should be spread across thy works ? »—or, is it that we see but a part of them ?—When the great chain at length is let down, and all that has held the two worlds in harmony is seen ;—when the dawn of that day approaches, in which all the dis¬ tressful incidents of this drama shall be unravelled; —when every man’s case shall be reconsidered,— then wilt thou be fully justified in all thy ways, and every mouth shall be stopped. SERMON XXIII. 17 After a long clay of mercy mispent in riot and un- charitableness, the rich man died also :—the para¬ ble adds,—and was buried :—buried no doubt in triumph, with all the ill-timed pride of funerals, and empty decorations, which worldly folly is apt to prostitute upon those occasions. But this was the last vain show ; the utter con¬ clusion of all his epicurean grandeur :—the next is a scene of horror, where he is represented by our Saviour in a state of the utmost misery, from whence he is. supposed to lift up his eyes towards Heaven, and cry to the patriarch Abraham for mercy.— u And Abraham said, Son, remember that thou in (< thy life time receivedst thy good things.” -That he had received his good things,—’twas from Heaven,—and could be no reproach. With what severity soever the scripture speaks against riches, it does not appear that the living or faring sumptuously everyday was the crime objected to the rich man ; or that it is a real part of a vitious char¬ acter : the case might be then as now ; his quality and station in the world might be supposed to be such, as not only to have justified his doing this, but, in general, to have required it, without any im¬ putation of doing wrong ;—for differences of sta¬ tions there must be in the world,—which must be supported by such marks of distinction as custom imposes. The exceeding great plenty and magnif¬ icence in which Solomon is described to have lived, who had ten fat oxen, and twenty oxen out of the pastures, and a hundred sheep, besides harts and roe-bucks, and fallow deer and fatted fowl, with thirty measures of fine flour, and threescore meas¬ ures of meal, for the daily provision of his table is SERMON XXIII. all this is not laid to him as a sin, but rather remark¬ ed as an instance of God’s blessing to him ;—and whenever these things are otherwise, ’tis from a wasteful and dishonest perversion of them to per¬ nicious ends,—and oft-times, to the very opposite ones for which they were granted,—to glad the heart, to open it, and render it more kind.— And this seems to have been the snare the rich man had fallen into $—and possibly, had he fared less sumptuously,—he might have had more cool hours for reflection, and been better disposed to have conceived an idea of want, and to have felt com¬ passion for it. “ And Abraham said, Son, remember that thou u in thy life-time receivedst thy good things, and And here, I cannot help stopping in the midst of this argument, to make a short'observation, which is this :—When we reflect upon the character of humility,—w r e are apt to think it stands the most naked and defenceless of all virtues whatever,—the least able to support its claims against the insolent antagonist who seems ready to bear him down, and all opposition which such a temper can make. Now, if we consider him as standing alone,—no doubt, in such a case he will be overpowered and trampled upon by his opposerbut if we consider the meek and lowly man as he is,—fenced and guard¬ ed by the love, the friendship, and wishes of all mankind ;— that the other stands alone, hated, dis¬ countenanced, without one true friend or hearty well-wisher on his side :—when this is balanced, we shall have reason to change our opinion, and be con¬ vinced that the humble man, strengthened with such an alliance, is far from being so over-matched as at first sight he may appear:—nay, I believe, one might venture to go further, and engage for it, that in all such cases, where real fortitude and true per¬ sonal courage were wanted, he is much more likely to give proof of it; and I would sooner look for it in such a temper than in that of his adversary. Pride may make a man violent,—but humility will make him firm :—and which of the two do you think likely to come off with honour ?—he who acts from the changeable impulse of heated blood, and fol¬ lows the uncertain motions of his pride and fury ?— or the man who stands cool and collected in himself; •who'governs his resentments, instead of being gov¬ erned by them, and on every occasion acts upoij the steady motives of principle and duty ? 40 SERMON XXV. But this by the way,—though, in truth, it falls in with the main argument; for if the observation is just, and humility has the advantages where we should least expect them, the argument rises high¬ er in behalf of those which are more apparently on its side:—in all which, if the humble man finds what the proud man must never hope for in this world,—that is, “ rest to his soul,”—so does he likewise meet with it from the influence such a tem¬ per has upon his condition under the evils of his life, not as changeable upon the vices of men, but as the portion of his inheritance by the appointment of God : for if, as Job says, we are born to trouble as the sparks fly upwards, surely it is he who thinks the greatest of these troubles below his sins,—and the smallest favours above his merit, that is likely to suffer the least from the one, and enjoy the most from the other. ’Tis he who possesses his soul in meekness, and keeps it subjected to all the issues of fortune, that is the farthest out of their reach.— No j—he blames not the sun, though it does not ripen his vine,—nor blusters at the winds, though they bring him no profit.—If the fountain of the humble man rises not as high as he could wish,—he thinks, however, that it rises as high as it ought ; and as the laws of nature still do their duty, that he has no cause to complain against them. If disappointed of riches,—he knows the provi¬ dence of God is not his debtor ; that though he has received less than others, yet, as he thinks himself less than the least, he has reason to be thankful. If the world goes untoward with the humble man in other respects,—he knows a truth which the proud man does never acknowledge, and that is, SERMON XXV. 4i that the world was not made for him; and, there¬ fore, how little share soever he has of its advan¬ tages, he sees an argument of content in reflecting how little it is that a compound of sin, of ignorance, and frailty, has grounds to expect. A soul thus turned and resigned, is carried smooth¬ ly down the stream of Providence ; no temptations in his passage disquiet him with desire ;=-no dan¬ gers alarm him with fear. Though open to all the changes and chances of others,—yet, by seeing the justice of what happens,—and humbly giving way to the blow,—though he is smitten, he is not smit¬ ten like other men, nor feels the smart which they do. Thus much for the doctrine of humility -let us now look towards the example of it. It is observed by some one, that as pride was the passion through which sin and misery entered into the world, and gave our enemy the triumph of ru¬ ining our nature, that therefore the Son of God, who came to seek and to save that which was lost, when he entered upon the work of our restoration, he began at the very point where he knew we had failed ; and this he did by endeavouring to bring the soul of man back to its original temper of humility ; so that his first publick address from the Mount be¬ gan with a declaration of blessedness to the poor in spirit;—and almost his last exhortation in the text, was to copy the fair original he had set them of this virtue, and u to learn of him to be meek and lowly in heart.” It is the most unanswerable appeal that can be made to the heart of man; ar.d so persuasive and accommodated to all Christians, that, as much pride 42 SERMON XXV. as there is still in the world, it is not credible blit that every believer must receive some tincture of this character or bias towards it* from the example of so great, and yet so humble a Master, whose whole course of life was a particular lecture to this one virtue ; and, in every instance of it> shewed that he came not to share the pride and glories of life, or swell the hopes of ambitious followers, but to cast a damp upon them forever, by appearing himself rather as a servant than a master,—com¬ ing, as he continually declared, not to be ministered unto, but to minister ; and, as the prophet had fore¬ told in that mournful description of him,—to have no form or comeliness, nor any beauty, that they should desire him. The voluntary meanness of his birth,—the poverty of his life,—the low offices in which it was engaged, in preaching the gospel to the poor,—the inconveniences which attended the execution of it, in having nowhere to lay his head, —all spoke the same language.—That the God of truth should submit to the suspicion of an impos¬ ture :—his humble deportment under that, and a thousand provocations of a thankless people, still raises his character higher;—and what exalts it to its highest pitch,—is the tender and pathetic k proof lie gave of the same disposition at the conclusion and great catastrophe of his sufferings,—when a life full of so many instances of humility was crown¬ ed with the most endearing one of “ humbling him- “ self even to the death of the crossthe death of a slave, a malefactor,—dragged to Calvary with¬ out opposition,—insulted without complaint! —Blessed Jesus ! How can the man who calls up¬ on thy name, but learn of thee to be meek and lowly SERMON XXV. 43 in heart!—How can he but profit when such a les¬ son was seconded by such an example I If humility shines so bright in the character of Christ, so does it in that of his religion ; the true spirit of which tends all the same way.—Christiani¬ ty, when rightly explained and practised, is all meekness and candour, and love and courtesy: and there is no one passion our Saviour rebukes so often, or with so much sharpness, as that one, which is subversive of these kind effects,—and that is pride ; which, in proportion as it governs us, necessarily leads us on to a discourteous opinion and treatment of others.—-I say necessarily ,—because ’tis a natural consequence ; and the progress from the one to the other is unavoidable. This our Saviour often remarks in the character of the pharisees :—they trusted in themselves r twas no wonder then they despised others. This, I believe, might principally relate to spir¬ itual pride ; which, by the way, is the worst of all pride : and as it is a very bad passion, I cannot do better than conclude the discourse with some re¬ marks upon it. In most conceits of a religious superiority, there lias usually gone hand in hand with it another fancy, which, I suppose, has fed it;—and that is, a per¬ suasion of some more than ordinary aids and illumi¬ nations from above.—Let us examine this matter. That the influence and assistance of God’s spirit, —in a way imperceptible to us, do enable us to ren¬ der him an acceptable service, we learn from scrip¬ ture.—In what particular manner this is effected, so that the act shall still be imputed ours,—the scripture says not :—we know only the account is 44 SERMON XXV. so; but as for any sensible demonstrations of its workings to be felt as such within us,—the word of God is utterly silent; nor can that silence be sup¬ plied by any experience.—We have none; unless you call the false pretences to it such,—suggested by an enthusiastick or distempered fancy. As ex¬ pressly as we are told and pray for the inspiration of God’s Spirit, there are no boundaries fixed, nor can any be ever marked, to distinguish them from the efforts and determinations of our own reason ;' and, as firmly as most Christians believe the effects ©f them upon their hearts, I may venture to affirm, that since the promises were made, there never was a Christian of a cool head and sound judgment, that, in any instance of a change of life, would presume to say which part of his reformation was owing to divine help ;■—nor which to the operations of his own mind ;—nor who, upon looking back, would pre¬ tend to strike the line, and say, « here it was that my own reflections ended ;’—and, 1 at this point the suggestions of the Spirit of God began to take place.* However backward the world has been in former ages in the discovery of such points as God never meant us to know,—we have been more successful in our own days thousands can trace out now the Impressions of this divine intercourse in themselves, from the first moment they received it, and with such distinct intelligence of its progress and work¬ ings, as to require no evidence of its truth. It must be owned, that the present age has not altogether the honour of this discovery;—there were too many grounds given to imp.rove on the relig¬ ious cant of the last century ;—when the in-comings , SERMON XXV. 45 in-dwellings , and out-lettings of the Spirit were the subjects of so much edification ; and when, as they do now, the most illiterate mechanicks, who, as a witty divine said of them, were much fitter to make a pulpit than to get into one, were yet able so to frame their nonsense to the nonsense of the times, as to beget an opinion in their followers, not only that they pray’d and preach’d by inspiration, but that the most common actions of their lives were set about in the Spirit of the Lord. The tenets of the Quakers (a harmless, quiet people) are collateral descendants from the same enthusiastick original; and their accounts and way of reasoning upon their inward light and spiritual worship, are much the same ; which last they carry thus much further, as to believe the Holy Ghost comes down upon their assemblies, and moves them, without regard to condition or sex, to make inter¬ cessions with unutterable groans. So that, in fact/the opinions of Methodists, upon which I was first entering, is but a republication, with some alterations, of the same extravagant con¬ ceits ; and as enthusiasm generally speaks the same language in all ages, ’tis but too sadly verified in this ; for though we have not yet got to the old terms of the in-comings and in-dwellings of the Spirit,— yet we have arrived at the first feelings of its en¬ trance, recorded with as particular an exactness as an act of filiation ;—so that numbers will tell you the identical place,—the day of the month,—and the hour of the night, when the Spirit came in up¬ on them, and took possession of their hearts. Now there is this inconvenience on our side, That there is no arguing with a frenzy of this kind t far c 2 46 SERMON XXV. unless a representation of the case be a confutation of its folly to them, they must forever be led cap¬ tive by a delusion, from which no reasoner can re¬ deem them : for if you should inquire upon what evidence so strange a persuasion is grounded ?— they will tell you, ‘ They feel it is so.’—If you reply, That this is no conviction to you, who do not feel it like them, and, therefore, would wish to be satis¬ fied by what tokens they are able to distinguish such emotions from those of fancy and complexion,—they will answer, that the manner of it is incommunica¬ ble by human language, but ’tis a matter of fact they feel its operation as plain and distinct as the natural sensations of pleasure, or the pains of a dis¬ order’d body:—and since I have mentioned a disor¬ der’d body, I cannot help suggesting, that amongst the more serious and deluded of this sect, ’tis much to be doubted, whether a disorder’d body has not oft-times as great a share in letting in these con¬ ceits as a disorder’d mind. When a poor disconsolated drooping creature is terrified from all enjoyment,—prays without ceas¬ ing, till his imagination is heated,—fasts, and mor¬ tifies, and mopes, till his body is in as bad a plight as his mind,—is it a wonder that the mechanical disturbances and conflicts of an empty belly, inter¬ preted by an empty head, should be mistook for workings of a different kind from what they are ?— or, that in such a situation, where the mind sits upon the watch for extraordinary occurrences, and the imagination is pre-engaged on its side, is it strange if every commotion should help to fix him in this malady, and make him a fitter subject for the treat¬ ment of a physician than a divine ? SERMON XXV. 47 In many cases, they seem so much above the skill of either, that unless God in his mercy rebuke this lying spirit, and call it back,—it may go on, and persuade millions to their destruction, SERMON XXVI. ADVANTAGES OF CHRISTIANITY TO THit; WORLD. ROM. I. 22. Professing themselves to be wise, they became fools. There is no one project lo which the whole race of mankind is so universally a bubble, as to that of being thought wise : and the affectation of it is so visible, in men of all complexions, that you every day see some one or other so very solicitous to estab¬ lish the character, as not to allow him self leisure to v do the things which fairly win it;—expending more art and stratagem to appear so in the eyes of the world, than would suffice to make him so in truth. It is owing to the force of this desire, that you see, in general, there is no injury touches a man so sen¬ sibly, as an insult upon his parts and capacity. Tell a man of other defects ? that he wants learning, industry, or application,—he will hear your reproof with patience.—Nay, you may go further : take him in a proper season, you may tax his morals,—you may tell him he is irregular in his conduct,—pas¬ sionate or revengeful in his nature,—loose in his principles ?—deliver it with the gentleness of a friend, —possible, he’ll not only bear with you,—but, if in¬ genuous, he will thank you for your lecture, and promise a reformation.—But hint*-—hint but at ade- SERMON XXVI. 49 feet in his intellectuals,—touch but that sore place, —from that moment you are look’d upon as an enemy sent to torment him before his time ; and, in return may reckon upon his resentment and ill-will forever : so that, in general, you will find it safer to t-ell a man he is a knave than a fool;—and stand a better chance of being forgive® for proving he has been wanting in a point of common honesty, than a point of com¬ mon sense. Strange souls that we are ! as if to live well was not the greatest argument of wisdom !—and, as it what reflected upon our morals, did not most of all reflect upon our understandings ! This, however, is a reflection we make a shift to overlook in the heat of this pursuit; and, though we all covet this great character of wisdom, there is scarce any point wherein we betray more folly than in our judgments concerning it; rarely bringing this precious ore either to the test or the balance ; and though ’tis of the last consequence not to be deceiv¬ ed in it,—w r e generally take it upon trust,—seldom suspect the quality, but never the quantity of what has fallen to our lot: so that, however inconsistent a man shall be in his opinions of this, and what absurd measures soever he takes in consequence of it, in the conduct of his life,—he still speaks comfort to his soul ; and, like Solomon, wdien he had least pre¬ tence for it,— in the midst of his nonsense will cry out and say,— “ That all my wisdom remaineth with “ me.” Where then is wisdom to be found ? and where is the place of understanding ? The politicians of this world, “ professing them- selves wise,”—admit of no other claims of wisdom 50 SERMON XXVI. but the knowledge of men and business,—the under¬ standing the interests of states,-—the intrigues of courts,—the finding out the passions and weaknesses of foreign ministers,—and turning them and all events to their country’s glory and advantage. —Not so the little man of this world, who thinks the main point of wisdom is to take care of himself;— to be wise in his generation ;—to make use of the opportunity whilst he has it, of raising a fortune, and heraldizing a name.—Far wide is the speculative and studious man (whose office is in the clouds) from such little ideas :—Wisdom dwells with him in find¬ ing out the secrets of nature ;—sounding the depths of arts and sciences ;—measuring the heavens ;—tel¬ ling the number of the stars, and calling them all by their names i so that when in our busy imaginations we have built and unbuilt again u God’s stories in the u heavens,”—and fancy we have found out the point whereon to fix the foundations of the earth; and, in the language of the book of Job, have searched out the corner-stone thereof, we think our titles to wisdom built upon the same basis with those of our knowledge, and that they will continue forever ! The mistake of these pretenders is shewn at large by the apostle, in the chapter from which the text is taken,—“Professing themselves wise;”—in which expression (by the way) St. Paul is thought to allude to the vanity of the Greeks and Romans, who being great encouragers of arts and learning, which they had carried to extraordinary heights, considered all other nations as barbarians in respect of themselves; and, amongst whom, particularly the Greeks, the men of study and inquiry had assumed to themselves, with great indecorum, the title of the wise men. SERMON XXVI, 51 With what parade and ostentation soever this was made out, it had the fate to be attended with one of the most mortifying abasements which could hap¬ pen to wisdom ; and that was an ignorance of those points which most concerned man to know. This he shews from the general state of the Gen¬ tile world, in the great article of their misconcep¬ tions of the Deity ;—and, as wrong notions produce wrong actions,—of the duties and services they ow¬ ed to him, and, in course, of what they owed to one another. For though, as he argues in the foregoing verses, *— u The invisible things of him from the creation “ of the world might be clearly seen and under- “ stood, by the things that are made —that is,— Though God, by the clearest discovery of himself, had ever laid before mankind such evident proofs of his eternal being, his infinite powers and perfec¬ tions,—so that what is to be known of his invisible nature might all along be traced by the marks of his goodness,—and the visible frame and order of the world,—yet so utterly were they without excuse, —that though they knew God, and saw his image and superscription in every part of his works,— “ yet they glorified him not 1”—So bad a use did they make of the powers given them from this great discovery, that, instead of adoring the Being thus manifested to them, in purity and truth, they fell into the most gross and absurd delusions“ Chang- M ed the glory of the incorruptible God, into an « image made like unto corruptible men ;—to birds, “ —to four-footed beasts and creeping things !— « Professing themselves to be wise,—they became « fools.”—All their specious wisdom was but a $.2 SERMON XXVI. more glittering kind of ignorance, and ended in the most dishonourable of all mistakes,—in setting up fictitious gods, to receive the.tribute of their ado¬ ration and thanks. The fountain of religion being thus poisoned, no wonder the stream shewed its effects, which are charged upon them in the following words, where he describes the heathen world “ as full of all un- u righteousness/’—fornication,—covetousness,-— maliciousness,—full of murder,—envy,—debate,— malignity,—whisperers,—backbiters,—haters of God, —proud,—boasters,—inventors of evil things,—dis¬ obedient to parents,—without understanding,— without natural affection,—implacable,—unmerci¬ ful 1—God in heaven defend us from such a cata¬ logue ! But these disorders, if fairly considered, you’ll say, have in no ages arisen so much from want of light, as a want of disposition to follow the light whieh God has ever imparted : that the law written in their hearts was clear and express enough for any reasonable creatures, and would have directed them, had they not suffered their passions more forcibly to direct them otherwise : that if we are to judge from this effect, namely, the corruption of the world, the same prejudice will recur even against the Christian religion,—since mankind have at least been as wicked in latter days, as in the more remote and simple ages of the world ; and that, if we may trust to facts, there are no vices which the apostle fixes upon the heathen world, before the preaching of the gospel, which may not bs paralleled by as black a catalogue of vices in the Christian world since. SERMON XXVI, 53 This necessarily brings us to an inquiry, Whether Christianity has done the world any service ?—and, How, far the morals of it have been made better since this system has been embraced ? In litigating this, one might opp )se facts to facts to the end of the world, without coming one jot nearer to the point. Let us see how far their mis¬ takes concerning the Deity will throw light upon the subject. That there is one Supreme Being, who made this world, and who ought to be worshipped by his creatures, is the foundation of all religion, and so ©bvious a truth in nature,—that reason, as the apos¬ tle acknowledges, was always able to discover it : and yet it seems strange, that the same faculty which made the discovery, should be so little able to keep true to its own judgment, and support it iong against the prejudices of wrong heads, and the propensity of weak ones, towards idolatry and a multiplicity of gods ! For want of something to have gone hand in hand with reason, and fixed the persuasion forever upon their minds, that there was in truth but one God, the maker and supporter of heaven and earth, in¬ finite in wisdom and knowledge, and all perfections, -—how soon was this simple idea lost, and mankind led to dispose of those attributes inherent in the Godhead, and divide and subdivide them again amongst deities which their own dreams had given substance to ;—his eternal power and dominion par¬ celled out to gods of the land,—to gods of the sea, —to gods of the infernal regions : whilst the great God of gods, and Lord of lords, who ruleth over all the kingdoms of the world,—who is so great that 54 SERMON XXVI. nought is able to control or withstand his power, was supposed to rest contented with his allotment, and to want power to act within such parts of his empire as they dismembered and assigned to others 1 If the number of their gods and this partition of their power, would lessen the idea of their majesty, What must be the opinions of their origin,—when, instead of that glorious description which scripture gives of “ The Ancient of Days who inhabiteth eternity,*’—they gravely assigned particular times and places for the births and education of their gods ! so that there was scarce a hamlet, or even a desert, in Greece or Italy, which was not rendered memorable by some favour or accident of this kind! And what rendered such conceits the more gross and absurd,—they supposed not only that the gods they worshipped had a beginning, but that they were produced by fleshly parents ; and accord¬ ingly they attributed to them corporeal shapes and difference of sex ! and indeed in this they were a little consistent, for their deities seemed to partake so much of their frailties to which flesh and blood is subject, that their history and their pedigree Were much of a piece, and might reasonably claim each other ;—for they imputed to them not only the human defects of ignorance, want, fear, and the like, but the most unmanly sensualities, and what would be a reproach to human nature such as cruelty, adulteries, rapes, incest ! and even in the accounts which we have from the sublimest of their poets,—what are they but anecdotes of their squab¬ bles amongst themselves,—their intrigues, their jealousies, their ungovernable transports of choler, —nay, even their thefts,—their drunkenness, and bloodshed ! SERMON XXVI. 55 Here let us stop a moment and inquire, what was reason doing all this time, to be so miserably in¬ sulted and abused ? Where held she her empire whilst her bulwarks were thus borne down, and her first principles of religion and truth lay buried un¬ der them ? If she was able by herself to regain the power she had lost, and put a stop to this folly and confusion,—why did she not •? If she was not able to resist this torrent alone,—the point is given up, —she wanted aid ; and revelation has given it.— Rut though reason, you’ll say, would not overthrow these popular mistakes,—yet it saw the folly of them, and was at all times able to disprove them. No doubt it was ; and it is certain too, that the more diligent inquiries after truth, did not in fact fall into these absurd notions, which, by the way, is an observation more to our purpose than theirs, who usually make it, and shews, that though their rea¬ sonings were good, that there always wanted some¬ thing which they could not supply, to give them such weight as would lay an obligation upon man¬ kind to embrace them, and make that to be a law, which otherwise was but an opinion without force. Besides,—which is a more direct answer,— though ’tis true the ablest men gave no credit to the multiplicity of gods,—(for they had a religion for themselves, and another for the populace) yet they were guilty of what in effect was equally bad, in holding an opinion which necessarily supported these very mistakes,—namely, that as different nations had different gods, it was every man’s duty (I suppose more for quietness than principle’s sake) to worship the gods of his country ; which, by the way, considering their numbers, was not so 5S SERMON XXVI. easy a task ;—for what with celestial gods, and gods aerial, terrestrial, and infernal, with the goddes- ses, their wives and mistresses, upon the lowest computation, the heathen world acknowledged no less than thirty thousand deities, all which claimed the rights and ceremonies of religious worship 1 But ’twill be said, allowing the bulk of mankind were under such delusions,—they were but specu¬ lative.—What w r as that to their practice ? However defective in their theology and more abstracted points, their morality was no way connected with it. -—There is no need that the everlasting laws of jus¬ tice and mercy should be fetched down from above, —•since they can be proved from more obvious me¬ diums ;—they were as necessary for the same good purposes of society then as now ; and we may pre¬ sume they saw their interest and pursued it. That the necessities of society, and the impossi¬ bilities of its subsisting otherwise, would point out the convenience, or, if you will,—the duty of social virtues, is unquestionable :—but I firmly deny that therefore religion and morality are independent of each other : they appear so far from it, that I can¬ not conceive how the one, in the true and meritori¬ ous sense of the duty, can act without the influence of the other. Surely, the most exalted motive which can only be depended upon for the uniform practice of virtue,—must come down from above,— from the love and imitation of the goodness of that Being in whose sight we wish to render ourselves acceptable : this will operate at all times and all places,—in the darkest closet as much as on the greatest and most publick theatres of the world. But with different conceptions of the Deity, or SERMON XXVI. 57 such impure ones as they entertained, is it to be doubted whether, in the many secret trials of our virtue, we should not determine our cases of con¬ science with much the same kind of casuistry as that of the libertine in Terence, who being engaged in a very unjustifiable pursuit, and happening to see a picture which represented a known story of Jupiter in a like transaction,—argued the matter thus within himself :—If the great Jupiter could not restrain his appetites, and deny himself an indul¬ gence of this kind ,—ego Homuncio hoc non facerem? Shall I a mortal,—an inconsiderable mortal too, clothed with infirmities of flesh and blood, pretend to a virtue which the Father of gods and men could not? What insolence ! The conclusion was natural enough ; and as so great a master of nature puts it into the mouth of one of his principal characters, no doubt the lan¬ guage was then understood ; it was copied from common life, and was not the first application which had been made of the story. It will scarce admit of a question, Whether vice would not naturally grow bold upon the credit of such an example ? or, whether such impressions did not influence the lives and morals of many in the heathen world ? and had there been no other proof of it but the natural tendency of such notions to corrupt them, it had been sufficient reason to be¬ lieve it was so. No doubt,—there is sufficient room for amend¬ ment in the Christian world ; and we may be said to be a very corrupt and bad generation of men, con¬ sidering what motives we have from the purity of our religion, and the force of its sanctions, to make 58 SERMON XXVI. us better:—yet still I affirm, If these restraints were taken off, the world would be infinitely worse ; and though some sense of morality might be preserved, as it was in the heathen world, with the more con* siderate of us,—yet in general I am persuaded, that the bulk of mankind upon such a supposition, would soon come to “ live without God in the world,” and in a short time differ from Indians themselves in lit¬ tle else but their complexions. If, after all, the Christian religion has not left a sufficient provision against the wickedness of the world,—the short and true answer is this, That there can be none. It is sufficient to leave us without excuse, that the excellency of this institution, in its doctrine, its precepts, and its examples, has a proper tendency to make us a virtuous and a happy people ;—every page is an address to our hearts, to win them to these purposes ;—but religion was not intended to work upon men by force and natural necessity, but by moral persuasion, which sets good and evil be¬ fore them ;—so that if men have power to do the evil and choose the good,—and will abuse it,—this cannot be avoided.—Religion ever implies a free¬ dom of choice : and all the beings in the world which have it, were created free to stand and free to fall ;—and therefore men who will not be per¬ suaded by this way of address, must expect, and be contented to be reckoned with according to the tal¬ ents they have received. SERMON XXVII. TIIE ABUSES OF CONCIENCE CONSIDERED. HEBREWS XIII. 18. —For we trust we have a good conscience.— Trust !—Trust we have a good conscience !—- Surely, you will sav, if there is anything in this life which a man may depend upon, and to the knowl¬ edge of which he is capable of arriving upon the most indisputable evidence, it must be this very thing,—Whether he has a good conscience, or no. If a man thinks at all, he cannot well be a stran¬ ger to the true state of this account:—He must be privy to his own thoughts and desires ;—he must remember his past pursuits, and know certainly the true springs and motives which, in general, have governed the actions of his life. In other matters we may be deceived by false ap¬ pearances ; and as the wise man complains, “ hardly “ do we guess aright at the things that are upon the “ earth ; and with labour do we find the things that “ are before us —but here the mind has all the evidence and facts within herself;—is conscious of the web she has wove ;—knows its texture and fine¬ ness ; and the exact share which every passion has had in working upon the several designs which vir¬ tue or vice has plann’d before her. Now,—as conscience is nothing else but the knowledge which the mind has within itself of this; €0 SERMON XXVII. and the judgment, either of approbation or censure, which it unavoidably makes upon the successive ac¬ tions of our lives,—’tis plain, you will say, from the very terms of the proposition, whenever this inward testimony goes against a man, and he stands self-ac* cused,-—that he must necessarily be a guilty man. And, on the contrary, when the report is favourable on his side, and his heart condemns him not,—that it is not a matter of trust , as the apostle intimates, but a matter of certainty and fact, that the conscience is good, and that the man must be good also. At first sight, this may seem to be a true state of the case ; and I make no doubt but the knowledge of right and wrong is so truly impress’d upon the mind of man, that did no such thing ever happen, as that the conscience of a man, by long habits of sin, might (as the scripture assures us it may) in¬ sensibly become hard, and, like some tender parts of his body, by much stress and continual hard usage, lose, by degrees, that nice sense and perception with which God and nature endowed it ;■=—did this never happen ;—or was it certain that self-love could nev¬ er hang the least bias upon the judgment ;—or, that the little interests below could raise up and perplex the faculties of our upper regions, and encompass them about with clouds and thick darkness ;—could fio such thing as favour and affection enter this sa¬ cred court ;—did wit disdain to take a bribe in it, or was ashamed to shew its face as an advocate for an unwarrantable enjoyment ;—or, lastly, were we as¬ sured that interest stood always unconcerned whilst the cause was hearing,—and that passion never got into the judgment-seat, and pronounced sentence in the stead of reason, which is supposed always to SERMON XXVII. 61 preside and determine upon the case was this truly so, as the objection must suppose,—no doubt, then, the religious and moral state of a man would be exactly what he himself esteemed it; and the guilt or innocence of every man’s life could be known, in general, by no better measure than the de¬ grees of his own approbation or censure. I own, in one case, whenever a man’s conscience does accuse him (as it seldom errs on that side) that he is guilty ; and, unless in melancholy and hypo- chondriack cases, we may safely pronounce that there are always sufficient grounds for the accusation. But the converse of the proposition will not hold true ;—namely, That wherever there is guilt, the conscience must accuse ; and, if it does not, that a man is therefore innocent.—This is not fact:—so that the common consolation which some good Chris¬ tian or other is hourly administering to himself,— That he thanks God his mind does not misgive him ; and that, consequently, he has a good conscience, because he has a quiet one ; as current as the infer¬ ence is, and as infallible as the rule appears at first sight, yet, when you look nearer to it, and try the truth of this rule upon plain facts, you find it liable to so much error, from a false application of it;— the principle on which it goes so often perverted the whole force of it lost, and sometimes so vilely cast away, that it is painful to produce the common examples from human life which confirm this ac¬ count. A man shall be vitious and utterly debauched in his principles; exceptionable in his conduct to the world : shall live shameless,—in the open commis¬ sion of a sin which no reason or pretence can justi- yol. v. D 62 SERMON XXVII. fy ;—a sin, by which, contrary to all the workings of humanity within, he shall ruin forever the deluded partner of his guilt ;—rob her of her best dowry ;— and not only cover her own head with dishonour, but involve a whole virtuous family in shame and sorrow for her sake,—surely,—you’ll think, con¬ science must lead such a man a troublesome life : -—he can have no rest night nor day from its re¬ proaches. Alas ! conscience bad something else to do all this time than break in upon him: as Elijah reproached the god Baal, this domestick god was either “ talk- “ iiig,.or pursuing, or was in a journey, or, perad* “ venture, he slept,and could not be awoke.” Per¬ haps he was gone out, in company with honour, to fight a duel ;—to pay off some debt at play ;—or dirty annuity, the bargain of his lust.—Perhaps, con¬ science all this time was engaged at home, talking aloud against petty larceny, and executing vengeance upon some such puny crimes as his fortune and rank in life secured him against all temptation of committing :—so that he lives as merrily,—sleeps as soundly in his bed ;—and, at the last, meets death with as much unconcern,—perhaps, much more so, —than a much better man. Another is sordid, unmerciful ;—a straithearted, selfish wretch, incapable either of private friendships or publick spirit — Take^notice how he passes by the widow and orphan in their distress ; and sees all the miseries incident to human life without a sigh or a prayer 1—Shall not conscience rise up and sting him on such occasions ? No.—Thank God, there is no occasion. ‘ I pay every man his own;— ‘ 1 have no fornication to answer to my conscience, j SERMON XXVII. ' no faithless vows or promises to make up ;—I c have debauched no man’s wife or child.—Thank 4 God, I am not as other men, adulterers, unjust; ‘ or even as this libertine who stands before me.* A third is crafty and designing in his nature — View his whole life,—’tis nothing else but a cunning contexture of dark arts and inequitable subterfuges^ basely to defeat the true intent of all laws, plain¬ dealing, and the safe enjoyment of our several prop¬ erties.—You will see such a one working out a frame of little designs upon the ignorance and perplexities of the poor and needy man :—shall raise a fortune upon the inexperience of youth,—or the unsuspecting temper of his friend, who would have trusted him with his life. When old age comes on, and repen¬ tance calls him to look back upon this black ac¬ count, and state it over again with his conscience ; —-conscience looks into the statutes at large,—finds perhaps no express law broken by what he has done ; —perceives no penalty or forfeiture incurred ;— sees no scourge waving over his head,—or prison opening its gate upon him.—What is there to af¬ fright his conscience ?—Conscience hus got safely entrenched behind the letter of the law, sits there invulnerable, fortified with cases and reports so strongly on all sides,—that ’tis not preaching can dispossess it of its hold. Another shall wante.ven this refuge ;—shall break through all-this ceremony of slow chicane ; scorns the doubtful workings of secret plots and cautious trains to bring about his purpose.—See the bare¬ faced villain how he cheats, lies, perjures, robs, mur¬ ders !—Horrid ! But indeed much better was not to be expected in this case j—the poor man was in 64 SERMON XXVII. the dark !—His priest had got the keeping of his conscience, and all he had let him know of it was, That he must believe in the Pope,—go to mass,— cross himself,—tell his beads,—be a good catholick; and that this in all conscience was enough to carry him to heaven. What ?—if he perjures ?—Why,— he had a mental reservation in it. But if he is so wicked and abandoned a wretch as you represent him,—if he robs or murders, will not conscience, on every such act, receive a wound itself?—Ay,—But the man has carried it to confession, the wound di¬ gests there, and will do well enough,—and in a short time be quite healed up by absolution. O Popery ! what hast thou to answer for !—when, not content with the too many natural and fatal ways through which the heart is every day thus treacher¬ ous to itself above all things,—thou hast wilfully set open this wide gate of deceit before the face of this unwary traveller,—too apt, God knows, to go astray of himself,—and confidently speak peace to his soul, when there is no peace ! Of this, the common instances which I have drawn out of life are too notorious to require much evi¬ dence. If any man doubts the reality of them, or thinks it impossible for man to be such a bubble to himself,—I must refer him a moment to his reflec¬ tions, and shall then venture to trust the appeal with his own heart. Let him consider in how different a degree of detestation numbers of wicked actions stand there, though equally bad and vitious in their own natures he will soon find that such of them as strong inclination or custom have prompted him to commit, are generally dressed out and painted with all the false beauties which a soft and flattering SERMON XXVII. 65 hand can give them ; and that the others, to which he feels no propensity, appear, at once, naked and deformed, surrounded with all the true circumstan¬ ces of folly and dishonour. When David surprised Saul sleeping in the cave, and cut off the skirt of his robe,—we read, his heart smote him for what he had done.—But, in the mat¬ ter of Uriah, where a faithful and gallant servant, whom he ought to have loved and honoured, fell to make way for his lust (where conscience had so much greater reason to take the alarm)—his heart smote him not !—A whole year had almost passed from the first commission of that crime, to the time Nathan was sent to reprove him ; and we read not once of the least sorrow or compunction of heart which he testified during all that time, for what he had done. Thus conscience, this once ablemonitor,—placed on high as a judge within us.,— and intended by our Maker as a just and equitable one too,—by an un¬ happy train of causes and impediments,—takes often such imperfect cognizance of what passes,—does its office so negligently,—sometimes so corruptly, that it is not to be trusted alone : and therefore, we find, there is a necessity, an absolute necessity, of join¬ ing another principle with it, to aid, if not govern, its determinations. So that, if you would form a just judgment of what is of infinite importance to you not to be mis¬ led in, namely, in what degree of real merit you stand, either as an honest man,—an useful citizen, —a faithful subject to your king,—or a good ser¬ vant to your God,—call in religion and morality.— Look-—What.is written in the law of God ?—How' 66. SERMON XXVIi. readest thou ?—Consult calm reason and the un¬ changeable obligations of justice and truth :—What say they ? Let conscience determine the matter upon these reports,—and then, if “ thy heart condemn thee u not,”—which is the case the apostle supposes,— the rule will be infallible :—“ Thou wilt have con- u fidence towards God —that is, have just grounds to believe the judgment thou hast passed upon thyself is the judgment of God ; and nothing else but an anticipation of that righteous sentence, which shall be pronounced hereafter upon thee by that Being, before whom thou art finally to give an account of thy actions. “ Blessed is the man,” indeed then, as the author of the book of Ecclesiasticus expresses it, “ who is h not pricked with the multitude of his sins—Bless- (< ed is the man whose heart hath not condemned, u and who is not fallen from his hope in the Lord. li Whether he be rich,” continues he, “ or whether {( he be poor,—if he have a good heart,” (a heart thus guided and informed)—“ He shall at all times “ rejoice in a cheerful countenance.—His mind “ shall tell him more than seven watchmen that sit “ above upon a tower on high.”—In the darkest doubts it shall conduct him safer than a thousand casuists, and give the state he lives in a better se¬ curity for his behaviour, than all the clauses and restrictions put together, which the wisdom of the legislature is forced to multiply ;—forced, 1 say, as things stand ; human laws being not a matter of original choice, but of pure necessity, brought in to fence against the mischievous effects of those con¬ sciences which are no law unto themselves ; wise* SERMON XXVII. 67 ly intending by the many provisions made* That in all such co! rupt or misguided cases, where principle and the checks of conscience will not make us up¬ right,—to supply their force, and, by the terrors of jails and halters, oblige us to it. To have the fear of God before our eyes ; and, in our mutual dealings with each other, to govern our actions by the eternal measures of right and wrong : —the first of these will comprehend the duties of religion ; the second those of morality : which are so inseparably connected together, that you cannot divide these two tables, even in imagination (though the attempt is often made in practice)—without breaking and mutually destroying them both. I said the attempt is often made ;—and so it is » —there being nothing more common than to see a man, who has no sense at all of religion,—and in¬ deed has so much of honesty, as to pretend to none, who would yet take it as the bitterest affront, should you but hint at a suspicion of his moral character,— or imagine he was not conscientiously just, and scru¬ pulous to the uttermost mite. When there is some appearance that it is so,— though one is not willing even to suspect the ap¬ pearance of so great a virtue as moral honesty,— yet, were we to look into the grounds of it in the present case, I am persuaded we should find little reason to envy such a man the honour of his mo¬ tive. Let him declaim as prompously as he can on the subject, it will be found at last to rest upon no bet¬ ter foundation than either his interest, his pride, his ease, or some such little and changeable passion, as 68 SERMON XXVII. will give us but small dependence upon his actions in matters of great stress. Give me leave to illustrate this by an example. I know the banker I deal with, or the physician I usually call in, to be neither of them men of much religion : I hear them make a jest of it every day, and treat all its sanctions with so much scorn and contempt, as to put the matter past doubt. Well,— notwithstanding this, I put my fortune into the hands of the one,—and, what is dearer still to me, I trust my life to the honest skill of the other.—Now, let me examine what is my reason for this great confi- dence.—Why,—in the first place, I believe that there is no probability that either of them will em¬ ploy the power I put into their hands to my disad¬ vantage. 1 consider that honesty serves the pur¬ poses of this life I know their success in the world depends upon the fairness of their characters ;—that they cannot hurt me. without hurting themselves more. But put it otherwise, namely, that interest lay for once on the other side :—that a case should happen wherein the one, without stain to his reputation, could secrete my fortune, and leave me naked in the world ;—or, that the other could send me out of it, and enjoy an estate by my death, without dishonour to himself or his art.—In this case, what hold have I of either of them ?—Religion, the strongest of all motives, is out of the question.—Interest, the next most powerful motive in this world, is strongly against me.—I have nothing left to cast into the scale to balance this temptation.—I must lie at the mercy of honour,—or some such capricious princi- SERMON XXVII. 69 pie,—Strait security 1 for two of my best and most valuable blessings,—my property and my life 1 As therefore we can have no dependence upon morality without religion ;—so, on the other hand, there is nothing better to be, expected from religion without morality ; nor can any man be supposed to discharge his duties to God, whatever fair appear¬ ances he may hang out that he does so, if he does not pay as conscientious a regard to the duties which he owes his fellow-creature. This is a point capable in itself of strict demon¬ stration.—Nevertheless, ’tis no rarity to see a man whose real moral merit stands very low, who yet entertains the highest notion of himself, in the light of a devout and religious man. He shall not only be covetous, revengeful, implacable,—but even wanting in points of common honesty ;—yet, because he talks loud against the infidelity of the age,—is zealous for some points of religion,—goes twice a day to church, attends the sacraments, and amuses himself with a few instrumental duties of religion, —shall cheat his conscience into a judgment that for this he is a religious man, and has discharged faithfully his duty to God : and you will find that such a man, through force of this delusion, general¬ ly iooks down with spiritual pride upon every other man who has less affectation of piety, though, per¬ haps, ten times more moral honesty than himself. “ This is likewise a sore evil under the sun and, I believe, there is no one mistaken principle which, for its time, has wrought more serious mis¬ chiefs. For a general proof of this, examine the history of the Romish church.—See what scenes of cruelty, murders, rapines, bloodshed, have all beer- d 2- 70 SERMON XXVIt. sanctified by a religion not strictly governed by mo¬ rality ! In how many kingdoms of the world has the cru¬ sading sword of this misguided saint-errant spared neither age, nor merit, nor sex, nor condition !— And, as he fought under the banners of a religion which set him loose from justice and humanity—he shewed none,—mercilessly trampled upon both,— heard neither theories of the unfortunate, nor pitied their distresses. If the testimony of past centuries in this matter is not sufficient,—consider at this instant, how the votaries of that religion are every day thin kng to do service and honour to God, by actions which are a dishonour and scandal to themselves. To be convinced of this, go with me for a mo¬ ment into the prisons of the inquisition.—Behold religion, with mercy and justice chained down un¬ der her feet,—there sitting ghastly upon a black tri¬ bunal, propped up with racks and instruments of torment !—Hark 1—What a piteous groan 1—See the melancholy wretch who uttered it, just brought forth to undergo the anguish of a mock-trial, and endure the utmost pains that a studied system of re. ligious cruelty has been able to invent 1 Behold this helpless victim delivered up to his tormentors : his body so wasted with sorrow and long confinement* you’ll see every nerve and muscle as it suffers !— Observe the last movement of that horrid engine.— What convulsions it has thrown him into ! Consider the nature of the posture in which lie now lies stretched —What exquisite torture he endures by it !—'Tis all nature can bear—Good God ! see how it keeps his weary soul hanging upon his trembling lips, willing to take its leave,—but not suffered to SERMON XXVII. M depart ! Behold the unhappy wretch led back to his cell,—dragged out of it again to meet the flames,— and the insults in his last agonies, which this princi¬ ple,—this principle, that there can be religion with¬ out morality, has prepared for him ! The surest way to try the merit of any disputed notion,—is to trace down the consequences such a notion has produced, and compare them with the spirit of Christianity.—* i is the short and decisive rule, which our Saviour has left lor these and such like cases,—and is worth a thousand arguments:— u By their fruits,” says he, “ ye shall know them.” Thus, religion and morality, like fast friends and natural allies, can never be set at variance, without the mutual ruin and dishonour of them both ;—and whoever goes about this unfriendly office, is no well-wisher to either and, whatever he pretends^ he deceives his own heart; and, I fear, his morality, as well as his religion, will be vain. I will add no farther to the length of this discourse,, than by two or three short and independent rules, deducible from what has been said. 1st, Whenever a man talks loudly against religion, always suspect that it is not his reason, but his pas¬ sions which have got the better of his creed.—A had life and a good belief are disagreeable and trouble¬ some neighbours ; and where they separate, depend upon it, ’tis for no other cause hut quietness sake. 2dly, When a man thus represented, tells you in any particular instance, that such a thing goes against. his conscience,—always believe he means exactly the same thing as when he tells you such a tning. goes against his stomach,—a present want of appe¬ tite being generally the true cause of both. d 3 72 SERMON XXVII. In a word,—trust that man in nothing,—who has not a conscience in every thing. And in your own case remember this plain dis¬ tinction, a mistake in which has ruined thousands,— that your conscience is not a law ;—no,—God and reason made the law, and has placed conscience within you to determine,—not like an Asiatick cadi, according to the ebbs and flows of his own passions; but like a British judge in this land of liberty, who makes no new law,—but faithfully declares that glo¬ rious law which he finds already written. SERMON XXVIII, TEMPORAL ADVANTAGES OF RELIGION. PROV in. 17 . Her ways are ways of pleasantness, and all her paths are peace. There are two opinions which the inconsiderate are apt to take upon trust.—The first is,—A vitious life is a life of liberty, pleasure, and happy advan¬ tages.—.The second is,—and which is the converse of the first,—That a religious life is a servile and most uncomfortable state. The first breach which the devil made upon hu¬ man innocence, was, by the help of the first of these suggestions, when he told Eve, that by eating of the tree of knowledge, she should be as God ; that is, she should reap some high and strange felicity from doing what was forbidden her.—But I need not repeat the success :—Eve learnt the difference between good and evil by her transgression^ which she knew not before;—but then she fatally learnt at the same time, that the difference was only this :—That good is that which can only give the mind pleasure and comfort;—and that evil is that which must necessa¬ rily be attended, sooner or later, with shame and sorrow. As the deceiver of mankind thus began his tri¬ umph over our race,—so has he carried it on ever since by the very same argument of delusion ;—. that is, by possessing men’s minds early with great 74 SERMON XXVIII. expectations of the present incomes of sin,—-making them dream of wondrous gratifications they are to feel in following their appetites in a forbidden way, «—making them fancy, that their own grapes yield not so delicious a taste as their neighbour’s, and that they shall quench their thirst with more pleasure at his fountain, than at their own. This is the opin¬ ion which at first too generally prevails,—till expe¬ rience and proper seasons of reflection make us, at onetime or other, all confess,—that our counsellor has been (as from the beginning) an impostor;—and that, instead of fulfilling these hopes of gain and sweetness in what is forbidden,—that, on the contra¬ ry, every unlawful enjoyment leads only to bitterness and loss. The second opinion, or, That a religious life is a servile and uncomfortable state, has proved a no less fatal and capital false principle in the conduct of in¬ experience through life,—the foundation of which mistake arising chiefly from this previous wrong judgment,—that true happiness and freedom lie in a man’s always following his own humour ;—that to live by moderate and prescribed rules, is to live without joy ;—that not to prosecute our passions is to be cowards,—and to forego every thing for the tedious distance of a future life. Was it true, that a virtuous man could have no pleasure but tvhat should arise from that remote prospect,—I own we are, by nature, so goaded on by the desire of present happiness, that was that the case, thousands would faint under the discourage¬ ment of so remote an expectation.—But, in the mean time, the scriptures give us a very different prospect of this matter.— [ here we are told, that the SERMON XXVIII. 75 service of God is true liberty,—that the yoke of Christianity is easy, in comparison of that yoke which must be brought upon us by any other system of living ; and the text tells of wisdom,—by which is meant religion ; that it has pleasantness in its way, as well as glory in its end !—tnat it will bring us peace and joy, such as the world cannot give 1—So that, upon examining the truth of this assertion, we shall be set right in this error, by seeing that a reli¬ gious man’s happiness does not stand at so tedious a distance*—but is so present, and indeed so insep¬ arable from him, as to be felt and tasted every hour ; —and of this even the vitious can hardly be insensi¬ ble, from what he may perceive to spring up in his mind from any casual act of virtue : and though it is a pleasure that properly belongs to the good,—yet let any one try the experiment, and he will see what is meant by that moral delight arising from the con¬ science of well-doing.—Let him but refresh the bowels of the needy,—let him comfort the broken¬ hearted,—or check an appetite,—or overcome a temptation, — or receive an affront with temper and meekness,—and he shall find the tacit praise of what he has done, darting through his mind, accompanied with a sincere pleasure ;—conscience playing the monitor even to the loose and most inconsiderate, in their most casual acts of well-doing, and is, like a voice whispering behind, and saying,—This is the way of pleasantness,—this is the path of peace,—* walk in it. But to do farther justice to the text, we must look beyond this inward recompense, which is always in¬ separable from virtue,—and take a view of the out¬ ward advantages which are as inseparable from it* 76 SERMON XXVIII. and which the apostle particularly refers to, when ’tis said, godliness has the promise of this life, as well as that which is to come ;—and in this argu¬ ment it is that religion appears in all its glory and strength,—unanswerable in all its obligations ;—that besides the principal work which it does for us in securing our future well-being in the other world, it is likewise the most effectual means to promote our present;—and that not only morally, upon ac¬ count of that reward which virtuous actions do en¬ title a man unto from a just and wise providence,— but by a natural tendency in themselves, which the duties of religion have to procure us riches, health, reputation, credit, and all those things wherein our temporal happiness is thought to consist; and this not only in promoting the well-being of particular persons, but of publick communities and of mankind in general,—agreeable to what the wise man has left us on record, That righteousness exalteth a na¬ tion :—insomuch, that could we, in considering this argument, suppose ourselves to be in a capacity of expostulating with God, concerning the terms upon which we would submit to his government,—and to choose the laws ourselves which we would be bound to observe, it would be impossible for the wit of man to frame any other proposals which, upon all accounts, would be more advantageous to our own interests than those very conditions to which we are by the rules of religion and virtue and in this does the reasonableness of Christianity, and the beauty and wisdom of providence, appear most eminently towards mankind, in governing us by such laws as do most apparently tend to make us happy;—and, in a word, in making that (in his mercy) to be our SERMON XXVIII. 77 duty, which, in his wisdom, he knows to be our in¬ terest ;—that is to say, what is most conducive to the ease and comfort of our mind,—-the health and strength of our body,—the honour and prosperity of our state and condition,—the friendship and good¬ will of our fellow-creatures ;—to the attainment of all which, no more effectual means can possibly be made use of, than that plain direction,—to lead an uncorrupted life, and to do the thing which is right; to use no deceit in our tongue, nor do evil to our neighbour. For the better imprinting of which truth in your memories, give me leave to offer a few things to your consideration. The first is,—that justice and honesty contribute very much towards all the faculties of the mind : I mean, that it clears up the understanding from that mist which dark and crooked designs are apt to raise in it,—and that it keeps up a regularity in the affections, by suffering no lust or by-ends to disorder them—That it likewise preserves the mind from all damps of grief and melancholy, which are the sure consequences of unjust actions; and that by such an improvement of the faculties, it makes a man so much the abler to discern, and so much the more cheerful, active, and diligent to mind his business. —Light is sown for the righteous, says the prophet, and gladness for the upright in heart. Secondly, let it be observed,—That in the conti¬ nuance and course of a virtuous man’s affairs, there is little probability of his falling into considerable disappointments or calamities;—not only because guarded by the providence of God, but that honesty is in its own nature the freest from danger. 7 8 SERMON XXVIII. First, because such a one lays no projects which it is the interest of another to blast, and therefore needs no indirect methods or deceitful practices to secure his interest by undermining others.—The paths of virtue are plain and straight; so that the blind, persons of the meanest capacity, shall not err.—Dishonesty requires skill to conduct it, and as great art to conceal,—what ’tis everyone’s inter¬ est to detect:—and, I think, I need not remind you how oft it happens, in attempts of this kind,— where worldly men, in haste to be rich, have over¬ run the only means to it,—and for want of laying their contrivances with proper cunning, or manag¬ ing them with proper secrecy and advantage, have lost, forever, what they might have certainly secur¬ ed by honesty and plain-dealing;—the general causes of the disappointments in their business, or of un¬ happiness in their lives, lying but too manifestly in their own disorderly passions; which, by attempting to carry them a shorter way to riches and honour, disappoint them of both forever, and make plain their ruin is from themselves, and that they eat the fruits which their own hands have watered and ri¬ pened. Consider, in the third place, that as the religious and moral man (one of which he cannot be without the other) not only takes the surest course for suc¬ cess in his affairs, but is disposed to procure a help, which never enters into the thoughts of a wicked one ; for being conscious of upright intentions, he can look towards heaven, and, with some assurance, recommend his affairs to God’s blessing and direc¬ tion :—whereas, the fraudulent and dishonest man dares not call for God’s blessing upon his designs; SERMON XXVIII. 79 -—or, if he does, he knows it is in vain to expect it. —Now, a man who believes that he has God on his side, acts with another sort of life and courage, than he who knows he stands alone ;—like Esau, with his hand against every man, and every man’s hand against his. The eyes of the Lord are upon the righteous, and his ears are open to their cry ;—but the face of the Lord is against them that do evii. Consider, in the fourth place, that in all good go¬ vernments, who understand their own interests, the upright and honest man stands much fairer for pre¬ ferment, and much more likely to be employed in all things where fidelity is wanted ;—for all men, however the case may stand with themselves, love at least to find honesty in those they trust; nor is there any usage we more hardly digest, than that of being outwitted and deceived_This is so true an observation, that the greatest knaves have no other way to get into business but by counterfeiting hon¬ esty, and pretending to be what they are not; and when the imposture is discovered, as it is a thou¬ sand to one but it will, I have just said what must be the certain consequence :—for when a such a one falls,—as he has none to help him, so he seldom rises again. This brings us to a fifth particular, in vindication of the text,—that a virtuous man has this strong ad¬ vantage on his side (the reverse of the last) that the more and longer he is known, so much the better he is loved,—so much the more trusted ;—so that his reputation and his fortune have a gradual in¬ crease :—and if calamities or cross accidents should bear him down—(as no one stands out of their reach 80 SERMON XXVIII. in this world)—if he should fall, who would not pity his distress !—who would not stretch forth his hand to raise him from the ground !—wherever there was virtue, he might expect to meet a friend and a bro¬ ther !—and this is not merely speculation but fact, confirmed by numberless examples in life, of men falling into misfortunes, whose character and prob¬ ity have raised them helps, and borne them up when every other help has forsook them. Lastly to sum up the account of the temporal ad¬ vantages which probity has on its side,—let us not forget that greatest of all happiness, which the text refers to;—in the expression of all its paths being peace, peace and content of mind, arising from the consciousness of virtue ; which is the true and only foundation of all earthly satisfaction : and where that is wanting, whatever other enjoyments you be¬ stow upon a wicked man, they will as soon add a cubit to his stature as to his happiness.—In the midst of the highest entertainment,—this, like the hand¬ writing upon the wall, will be enough to spoil and dis¬ relish the feast ;—but much more so, when the tu¬ mult and hurry of delight is over,—when all is still and silent,—when the sinner has nothing to do but attend its lashes and remorses ;—and this, in spite of all the common arts of diversion, will be often the case of every wicked man ;—for we cannot live al¬ ways upon the stretch ;—our faculties will not bear constant pleasure any more than constant pain there will be some vacancies ;—and when there are, they will be sure to be filled with uncomfort¬ able 'houghts and black reflections :—so that, set¬ ting aside the great after-reckoning, the pleas¬ ures of the wicked aye overbought, even in this world. SERMON XXVIII. 8! I conclude with one observation upon the whole of this argument, which is this ■ Notwithstanding the great force with which it has been often urged by good writers,—there are many eases which it may not reach,—wherein vi- tious men may seem to enjoy their portion of this life, and live as happy, and fall into as few troubles as other men ; — and, therefore, it is prudent not to lay more stress upon this argument than it will bear :—but always remember to call in to our aid that great and more unanswerable argument, which will answer the most doubtful cases that can be stated ;—and that is, the certainty of a future life, which Christianity has brought to light. However men may differ in their opinions of the usefulness of virtue for our present purposes, no one was ever so absurd as to deny it served our best and our last interest,-— when the little interests of this life were at an end.—Upon which consideration we should always lay the great weight which it is fittest to bear, as the strongest appeal, and most unchangea¬ ble motive that can govern our actions at all times. — However, as every good argument on the side of religion should, in proper times, be made use of,_ it is fit sometimes to examine this,—by proving vir¬ tue is not even destitute of a present reward,_but carries in her hand a sufficient recompense for all the self-denials she may occasion_She is pleasant in the way, as well as in the end ;—her ways being ways of pleasantness, and all her paths peace.—But it is her greatest and most distinguished glory,_ that she befriends us hereafter, and brings us peace at the last; and this is a portion she can never be disinherited of which may God of his mercy grant us all for the sake of Jesus Christ! SEI1M0N XXIX. OUR CONVERSATION IN HEAVEN. PIIIL. III. 20. For our conversation is in heaven. These words are the conclusion of the account which St. Paul renders of himself, to justify that particular part of his conduct and proceeding,—his leaving so strangely, and deserting his Jewish rites and ceremonies to which he was known to have been formerly so much attached, and in defence of which he had been so warmly and so remarkably engaged. This, as it had been matter of provoca-* tion against him amongst his own countrymen the Jews, so was it no less an occasion of surprise to the Gentiles ;—that a person of his great character, interest, and reputation,—one who was descended from a tribe of Israel, deeply skilled in the profes¬ sions, and zealous in the u observances of the strait- “ est sect of that religion who had their tenets instilled into him from his tender years, under the institution of the ablest masters >—a pharisee him¬ self,—the son of a pharisee,—and brought up at the feet of Gamaliel ; one that was so deeply interest¬ ed, and an accessary in the persecution of another religion just then newly come up ,—a religion to which his whole sect, as well as himself, had'been always the bitterest and most inveterate enemies ; and w'ere. constantly upbraided as such, by the first SERMON XXIX. 83 founder of it :—that a person so beset and hemm’d in with interests and prejudices on all sides, should, after all, turn proselyte to the very religion he had hated ;—a religion too, under the most universal con¬ tempt of any then in the world ; the chiefs and lead¬ ers of it men of the lowest birth and education, with¬ out any advantages of parts or learning, or other en¬ dowments to recommend them :—that he should quit and abandon all his former privileges to be¬ come merely a fellow-labourer with these ;—that he should give up the reputation he had acquired amongst his brethren by the study and labours of a whole life ;—that he should give up his friends, his relations, and family, from whom he estranged and banished himself for life :—this was an event so very extraordinary, so odd and unaccountable,— that it might well confound the minds of men to answer for it.—It was not to be accounted for upon the common rules and measures of proceeding in human life. The apostle, therefore, since no one else could so well do it for him, comes, in this chapter, to give an explanation why he had thus forsaken so many worldly advantages,—which was owing to a greater and more unconquerable affection to a better and more valuable interest ;—that, in the poor perse¬ cuted faith,—which he had once reproached and destroyed,—he had now found such a fulness of di¬ vine grace,—such unfathomable depths of Qod’s infinite mercy and love towards mankind, that he could think nothing too much to part with, in order to his embracing Christianity :—nay, he accounted all things but loss,—that is, less than nothing, for the excellency of the knowledge of Jesus Cnrist. SERMON XXIX. 84 The apostle, after this apology for himself, pro¬ ceeds, in the second verse before the text, to give a very different representation of the worldly views and sensual principles of other pretending teachers, —who had set themselves up as an example for men to walk by, against whom he renews this cau¬ tion :—For many walk, of whom I have told you oft¬ en, and now tell you even weeping, that they are the enemies to the cross of Christ,—whose end is destruction, whose God is their belly, and whose glory is in their shame, who mind earthly things,-— j €>f«vsv75$,—relish them, making them the only object of their wishes, taking aim at nothing better, and nothing higher ;—but our conversation, says he in the text, is in heaven. We Christians, who have embraced a persecuted faith, are governed by other considerations,—have greater and nobler views : here we consider ourselves only as pilgrims and strangers.—Our home is in another country, where we are continually tending ; there our hearts and affections are placed ; and when the few days of our pilgrimage shall be over, there shall we return, where a quiet habitation and perpetual rest is de¬ signed and prepared for us forever !—Our conver¬ sation is in heaven ; from whence, says he, we also look for the Saviour, the Lord Jesus Christ, who shall change our vile body, that it may be fashioned like unto his glorious body, according to the work¬ ing whereby he is able to subdue all things unto him.—It is observable, that St. Peter represents^he state of Christians under the same image of strang* ers on earth, w hose city and proper home is heaven. He makes use of that relation of citizens of heaven, as a strong argument for a pure and holy life,—be- SERMON XXIX. 85 seedling them as pilgrims and strangers here ; as men whose interests and connections are of so short a date, and so trifling a nature,—to abstain from fleshly lusts, which war against the soul (that is, unfit it for its heavenly country) and give it a dis¬ relish to the enjoyment of that pure and spiritual¬ ized happiness of which that religion must consist, wherein there shall in no-wise enter any. thing that defileth ; neither whatsoever worketh abomination. —The apostle tells us, That without holiness, no man shall see God ;—by which, no doubt he means, that a virtuous life is the only medium of happiness and terms of salvation, which can only give us ad¬ mission into heaven.—But some of our divines car¬ ry the assertion further, That without holiness,— without some previous similitude wrought in the faculties of the mind, corresponding with the na¬ ture of the purest of beings, who is to be the object of our fruition hereafter ;—that it is not morally only, but physically impossible for it to be happy ; —and that an impure and polluted soul is not only unworthy of so pure a presence as the Spirit of God, but even incapable of enjoying it, could it be admitted. And here, not to feign a long hypothesis, as some have done, of a sinner’s being admitted into heaven, with a particular description of his condition and behaviour there,—we need only consider, that the supreme good, like any other good, is of a relative nature, and, consequently, the enjoyment of it must require some qualification in the faculty, as well as the enjoyment of any other good does there must be something antecedent in the disposition and tem¬ per, which will render that good a good to that to h. v. E 86 SERMON XXIX. individualotherwise, though (it is true) it may be possessed,—yet it never can be enjoyed. Preach to a voluptuous epicure, who knows of no other happiness in this world but what arises from good eating and drinking such a one, in the apostle's language, whose god is his belly preach to him of the abstractions of the soul, tell of its flights and brisker motion in the pure regions of immensity ;—represent to him that saints and angels eat not,—but that the spirit of a man lives forever upon wisdom and holiness, and heavenly contem¬ plations :—why, the only effect would be, that the fat glutton would stare a while upon the preacher, and in a few minutes fall fast asleep.—No ; if you •would catch his attention, and make him take in your discourse greedily,—you must preach to him out of the Alcoran,—talk of the raptures of sensual enjoyments, and of the pleasures of the perpetual feasting which Mahomet has described ;—there you touch upon a note w'hich awakens and sinks into the inmost recesses of his soul —without which, dis¬ course as wisely and abstractedly as you will of heaven, yo.ur representations of it, however glorious and exalted, will pass like the songs of melody over an ear incapable of discerning the distinction of sounds. We see, even in the common intercourses of society,—-how tedious it is to be in the company of a person whose humour is disagreeable to our own, though, perhaps, in all other respects of the greatest worth and excellency !—How then can we imagine that an ill-disposed soul, whose conversation never reached to heaven, but whose appetites and desires, to the last hour, have grovell’d upon this unclean SERMON XXIX. 8 r spot of earth,—how can we imagine it should here* after take pleasure in God,—or be able to taste joy or satisfaction from his presence, who is so infinitely pure that he even putteth no trust in his saints 1—- nor are the heavens themselves (as Job says) clean in his sight !— The consideration of this has led some writers so far as to say, with some degree of irreverence in the expression,—That it was not in the power of God to make a wicked man happy, if the soul was separated from the body, with all its vitious habits and inclinations unreformed ;—which thought a very able divine in our church has pursued so far as to declare his belief,—That could the hap¬ piest mansion in heaven be supposed to be allotted to a gross and polluted spirit, it would be so far from being happy in it, that it would do penance there to all eternity :—by which he meant, it would carry such appetites along with it, for which there could be found no suitable objects :—a sufficient cause for constant torment;—for those that it iound there, wmuld be so disproportioned, that they would rather vex and upbraid it, than satisfy its wants— This, it is true, is mere speculation,—and what con¬ cerns us not to know ;—it being enough for our purpose, that such an experiment is never likely to be tried -that we stand upon different terms with God ;—that a virtuous life is the foundation of all our happiness that as God has no pleasure in wickedness, neither shall any evil dwell with him ; and that, if we expect our happiness to be in heav¬ en, we must have our conversation in heaven whilst upon earth,—make it the frequent subject oi our thoughts and meditations,—-let every step we take tend that way,—every action of our lives be con- 88 SERMON XXIX. ducted by that great mark of the prize of our high calling, forgetting those things which are behind ; forgetting this world,—disengaging our thoughts and affections from it, and thereby transforming them to the likeness of what we hope to be hereaf¬ ter.—How can we expect the inheritance of the saints in light, upon other terms than what they themselves obtained it ! Can that body expect to rise and shine in glory that is a slave to lust, or dies in the fiery pursuit of an impure desire ? Can that heart ever become the lightsome seat of peace and joy, that burns hot as an oven with anger, rage, envy, lust, and strife ? full of wicked imaginations, set only to devise and entertain evil ?, Can that flesh appear in the last day and inherit the kingdom of heaven in the glorified strength of perpetual youth, that is now clearly consumed in in¬ temperance, sinks in the surfeit of continual drunk¬ enness and gluttony, and then tumbles into the grave, and almost pollutes the ground that is under it ?—Can we reasonably suppose that head shall ever wear or become the crown of righteousness and peace, in which dwells nothing but craft and avarice, deceit, and fraud, and treachery ? which is always plodding upon worldly designs,—-racked with ambition,—rent asunder with discord,—ever delighting in mischief to others, and unjust advan¬ tages to itself ?—Shall that tongue, which is the glo¬ ry of a man when rightly directed,—be ever set to God’s heavenly praises, and warble forth the har¬ monies of the blessed, that is now full of cursing and bitterness, backbiting and slander, under which is ungodliness and vanity, and the poison of asps ? SERMON XXIX. 89 Can it enter into our hearts even to hope, that those hands can ever receive the reward of righteous¬ ness, that are full of blood, laden with the wages of iniquity, of theft, rapine, violence, extortion, or other unlawful gain ? or that those feet shall ever be beau¬ tiful upon the mountains of light and joy, that were never shod for the preparation of the gospel,—that have run quite out of the way of God’s word, and^ made hast only to do evil ?—No, surely.—In this sense,—he that is unjust, let him be unjust still; and he which is filthy, let him be filthy still. So inconsistent is the whole body of sin with the glories of the celestial body that shall be revealed hercafier,—that, in proportion as we fix the represen¬ tation of these glories upon our minds, and in the more numerous particulars we do it,—the stronger the necessity as well as persuasion to deny ourselves alt ungodliness and worldly lusts, to live soberly, right¬ eously, and godly in this present world, as the only way to entitle us to that blessedness spoken of in the Revelations,-—of those who do his commandments, and have a right to the tree of life, and shall enter into the gates of the city of the living God, the heavenly Jerusalem, and to an innumerable company of angels ;—to the general assembly and church of the first-born that are written in heaven* and to God the Judge of all, and to the spirits of just men made perfect,—who have washed their robes and made them white in the blood of the Lamb ! May God give us grace to live under the perpetu¬ al influence of this expectation !—that by the habitu¬ al impression of these glories upon our imaginations, and the frequent sending forth our thoughts and employing them on the other world ,—wq may disen- 9$ SERMON XXIX. tangle them from this ;—and by so having our c«M- versation in heaven whilst we are here, we may be thought fit inhabitants for it hereafter ;—that when God, at the last day, shall come with thousands and ten thousands of his saints to judge the world, we may enter with them into happiness ; and with angels and archangels, and all the company of heaven, we may praise and magnify his glorious name, and enjoy his presence forever ! Amen, SERMON XXX. DESCRIPTION OF THE WORLD. II PETER III. 11. Seeing, then, that all these things shall he dissolyed,—what manner of persons ought ye to be in all holy conversation and godliness ? looking and hastening unto the eoming of God. The subject upon which St. Peter is discoursing in this chapter, is the certainty of Christ’s coming to judge the world ;—and the words of the text are the moral application he draws from the representa¬ tion he gives of it;—in which, in answer to the cavils of the scoffers in the latter days, concerning the de¬ lay of his coming, he tells them, that God is not slack concerning his promises, as some men count slackness, but is long-suffering to us ward ;—“ that w the day of the Lord will come as a thief in the “ night, in which the heavens shall pass away with “ a great noise, and the elements shall melt with “ fervent heat; the earth also, and the works that “ are therein, shall be burnt up.”—Seeing then, says he, all these things shall be dissolved, what manner of persons ought ye to be in all holy conversation and godliness ?—The inference is unavoidable,—at least in theory, however it fails in practice :—how widely these two differ, I intend to make the subject of this discourse ; and though it is a melancholy comparison, to consider i what manner of persons we really arr,’ with < what manner of persons we 52 SERMON XXX. i ought to be,* yet, as the knowledge of the one is at least one step towards improvement in the other,— the parallel will not be thought to want its use. Give me leave, therefore, in the first place, to re¬ call to your observations, what kind of world it is we live in, and what manner of persons we really are. Secondly, and in opposition to this, I shall make use of the apostle’s argument, and, from a brief rep¬ resentation of the Christian religion and the obliga¬ tions it lays upon us, shew what manner of persons we ought to be in all holy conversation and godliness, looking for and hastening unto the coming of the day of God. Whoever takes a view of the world, will, I fear, be able to discern but very faint marks of this char¬ acter, either upon the looks or actions of its inhabit¬ ants.—Of all the ends and pursuits we are looking for and hastening unto,—this would be the least suspected ;—for, without running into that old de¬ clamatory cant upon the wickedness of the age,—we may say within the bounds of truth,—that there is as little influence from this principle, which the apostle lays stress on, and as little sense of religion, —as small a share of virtue (at least as little of the appearance of it) as can be supposed to exist at all in a country where it is countenanced by the state.— The degeneracy of the times has been the com non# complaint of many ages :—how much we exceed our forefathers in this, is known alone to that God who trieth the hearts.—But this we^pay be allowed to urge in their favour, they studied at least to pre¬ serve the appearance of virtue ;—publick vice was branded with publick infamy, and obliged to hide its head in privacy and retirement. The service of SERMON XXX. 93 God was regularly attended, and religion not expos¬ ed to the reproaches of the scorner. How the case stands with us at present in each of these particulars, it is grievous to report, and, per¬ haps, unacceptable to religion herself ; yet, as this is a season wherein it is fit we should be told of our faults, let us, for a moment, impartially consider the articles of this charge. And, first, concerning the great article of reli¬ gion, and the influence it has at present upon the lives and behaviour of the present times ; concern¬ ing which I have said, that, if we were to trust ap¬ pearances, there is as little as can well be supposed to exist at all in a Christian country. Here I shall spare exclamations, and, avoiding all common-place railing upon the subject, confine myself to facts, such as every one who looks into the world, and makes any observations at all, will vouch for me. Now, whatever are the degrees of real religion amongst us,—whatever they are, the appearances are strong against the charitable side of the question. If religion is anywhere tp be found, one would think it would be amongst those of the higher rank in life, whose education, and opportunities of know¬ ing its great importance, should have brought them over to its interest, and rendered them as firm in the defence of it as eminent in its example_But, if you examine the fact, you will almost find it a test of politer education, and a mark of more shining parts, to know nothing, and, indeed, care nothing at all about it: or, if the subject happens to engage the attention of a few of the more sprightly wits,_that it serves no other purpose but that of being made merry at, and of being reserved as a standing jest, e 2 ?4 SERMON XXX. to enliven discourse, when conversation sicken* upon their hands..-- This is too sore an evil not to be observed amongst persons of all ages, in what is called higher life ; and so early does the contempt of this great concern begin to shew itself,—that it is no uncom* mon tning to hear persons disputing against religion, and raising cavils against the Bible, at an age when some of them would be hard set to read a chapter in it!—and, I may add, of those whose stock in knowl¬ edge is somewhat larger, that, for the most part, it has scarce any other foundation to rest on but the sink¬ ing credit of traditional and second-hand objections against revelation ; which, had they leisure to read, they would find answered and confuted a thousand times over—But this by the way.-- If we take a view of the publick worship of Al¬ mighty God, and observe in what manner it is rev¬ erenced by persons in this rank of life, whose duty it is to set an example to the poor and ignorant, we shall find concurring evidence upon this melancholy argument,—of a general want of all outward demon¬ stration of a sense of our duty towards God, as if religion was a business fit only to employ tradesmen and mechanicks,—and the salvation of our souls a «$oncern utterly below the consideration of a person of figure and consequence. I shall say nothing at present of the lower ranks of mankind,—though they have not yet got into the fashion of laughing at religion, and treating it with scorn and contempt, and, I believe, are too serious a set of creatures ever to come into it ; yet we are not to imagine but that the contempt it is held in by those whose examples they are apt to imitate, will? SERMON XXX. 95 ift time, utterly shake their principles, and render them, if not as profane, at least as corrupt, as their betters.—When this event happens,— and we begin to feel the effects of it m our dealings with them, those who have done the mischief will find the neces¬ sity at last of turning religious in their own defence) and, for want of a better principle, to set an example of piety and good morals for their own interest and convenience. Thus much for the languishing state of religion in the present age :—in virtue and good morals, per¬ haps, the account may stand higher. Let us inquire. And here, I acknowledge, that an inexperienced man, who heard how loudly we all talked in behalf of virtue and moral honesty, and how unanimous we were all in our cry against vitious characters of all denominations, would be apt hastily to conclude, that the whole world was in an uproar about it,—and that there was so general a horror and detestation of vice amongst us, that mankind were all Associating togeth¬ er to hunt it out of the world; and give it no quarter; —This, I own, would be a natural conclusion for any one who only trusted his ears upon this subject_ But as matter of fact is allowedbetter evidence than hearsay,—let us see, in the present,.how the one case is contradicted by the other. However vehement we approve ourselves in dis¬ course against vice,—I believe- no one is ignorant that the reception it actually meets with is very dif¬ ferent;—the conduct and behaviour of the world is so opposite to their language, and all we hear so contradicted by what we see, as to leave little room to question which sense we are to trust, s,S 96 SERMON XXX. k, T beseech you, amongst those whose higher st ;U s are made a shelter for the liberties they take, you will see, that no man’s character is so in¬ famous, nor any woman’s so abandoned, as not to be visited and admitted freely into all companies; am', if the party can pay for it, even publickly to be courted, caressed, andflattered.—If this will notover- throvv the credit of our virtue,—take a short view of the general decay of it from the fashionable ex¬ cesses of the age,—in favour of which there seems to be formed so strong a party, that a man of sobriety, temperance, and regularity, scarce knows how to accommodate himself to the society he lives in and is oft as much at a loss how and where to dispose of himself;—and, unless you suppose a mixture of constancy in his temper, it is great odds but such a one would be ridiculed, and laughed out of his scru¬ ples and his virtue at the same time,—to say nothing of occasional rioting, chambering, and wantonness.— Consider how many publick markets are established merely for the sale of virtue,—where the manner of going, too sadly indicates the intention ;—and the disguise each is under, not only gives power safely to drive on the bargain, but too often tempts to carry it into execution too. The sinning under disguise, I own, seems to carry some appearance of a secret homage to virtue and decorum, and might be acknowledged as such, was it not the only publick instance the world seems to give of it. In other cases, a just sense of shame seems a matter of so little concern, that, instead of any regularity of behaviour, you see thousands who are tired with the very form of it, and who, at length have even thrown the mask of it aside, as a useless SERMON XXX. 97 piece of incumbrance.—This, I believe, will need no evidence ; it is too evidently seen in the open liberties taken every day, in defiance (not to say of religion, but) of decency and common good manners ;—so that it is no uncommon thing to behold vices which, heretofore, were committed only in dark corners, now openly shew their face in broad day, and, oft- times, with such an air of triumph, as if the party thought he was doing himself honour,—or that he thought the deluding an unhappy creature, and the keeping her in a state of guilt, was as necessary a piece of grandeur as the keeping an equipage,—and did him as much credit as any other appendage of his fortune. If we pass on from the vices to the indecorums of the age (which is a softer name for vices) you will scarce see any thing, in what is called higher life, but what bespeaks a general relaxation of all order and discipline, in which our opinions as well as manners seem to be set loose from all restraints, —and, in truth, from all serious reflections too ;— and one may venture to say, that gaming and ex¬ travagance to the utter ruin of the greatest estates, —minds dissipated with diversions, and heads giddy with a perpetual rotation of them, are the most gen¬ eral characters to be met with ; and though one would expect that, at least, the more solemn sea¬ sons of the year, set apart for the contemplation of Christ’s sufferings, should give some check and in¬ terruption to them, yet what appearance is there ever amongst us that it is so ?—what one alteration does it make in the course of things l Is not the doctrine of mortification insulted by the same luxu¬ ry of entertainments at our tables l —is not the same order of diversions perpetually returning, and scarce 93 SERMON XXX. any thing else thought of?—does not the same levi¬ ty in dress, as well as discourse, shew itself in per¬ sons of all ages ? I say of all ages, for it is no small aggravation of the corruption of our morals, that age, which, by its authority, was once able to frown youth into sobriety and better manners, and keep them within bounds, seems but too often to lead the way, and, by their unseasonable example, give a countenance to follies and weakness, which youth is but too apt to run into without such a recommenda¬ tion.—Surely age,—which is but one remove from death, should have nothing about it but what look3 like a decent preparation for it—In purer times it was the case ;—but now,—grey hairs themselves scarce ever appear but in the high mode^and flaunt¬ ing garb of youth—with heads as full of pleasure, and clothes as ridiculously, and as much in the fashion, as the person who wears them is usually grown out of it;—upon which article give me leave to make a short reflection ; which is this, that, whenever the eldest equal the youngest in the vanity of their dress, there is no reason to be given for it, but that they equal them, if not surpass them, in the vanity of their desires. But this by the bye. Though, in truth, the observation falls in with the main intention of this discourse,—which is not fram¬ ed to flatter our follies, or touch them with a light hand, but plainly to point them out ; that, by re¬ calling to your mind what manner of persons we really are, I might better lead you to the apostle's inference, of what manner of persons ye ought to be in all holy conversation and godliness, looking for and hastening unto the coming of tl\e day of God. SERMON XXX, 99 The apostle, in the concluding verse of this argu¬ ment, exhorts, that they who look for such things be diligent, that they be found of him in peace, without spot, and blameless ;—and one may con¬ clude with him, that if the hopes or fears, either the reason or the passions of men are to be wrought upon at all, it must be from the force and influence of this awakening consideration in the text,—“ That “ all these things shall be dissolved —that this vain and perishable scene must change ; that we, who now tread the stage, must shortly be summon¬ ed away ;—that we are creatures but of a day, has¬ tening unto the place from whence we shall return no more ;—that, whilst we are here, our conduct and behaviour is minutely observed that there is a Being about our paths and about our beds, whose omniscient eye spies out all our ways, and takes a faithful record of all the passages of our lives that these volumes shall be produced and opened, and men shall be judged out of the things that are written in them ;—that, without respect of persons, we shall be made accountable for our thoughts, our words, and actions, to this greatest and best of Be¬ ings, before whose judgment-seat we must finally appear, and receive the thingis done in the body, whether they are good or whether they are bad. That, to add to the terror of it,—this day of the Lord will come upon us like a thief in the night;—- of that hour no one knoweth ;—that we are not sure of its being suspended one day or one hour ; or, what is the same case,-—that we are standing upon the edge of a precipice with nothing but the single thread of human life to hold us up ; and that, if we fall unprepared in this thoughtless state, we are lost, and must perish for evermore. 100 SERMON XXX. What manner of persons we ought to be, upon these principles of our religion, St. Peter has told us, in all holy conversation and godliness ;—and I shall only remind, how different a frame of mind the looking for and hastening unto the coming of God, under such a life, is, from that of spending our days in vanity, and our years in pleasure. Give me leave, therefore, to conclude, in that mer¬ ciful warning, which our Saviour, the Judge him¬ self, hath given us at the close of the same exhor¬ tation. Take heed to yourselves, lest at any time your hearts be overcharged with surfeiting and drunken¬ ness, and the cares of this iife;—and so that day come upon you unawares ;—for as a snare shall it gome upon all that dwell on the face of the whole earth. Watch, therefore, and pray always, that ye may be accounted worthy to escape ail these things that shall come to pass, and to stand before the Son of man : which may God of his mercy grant, through Jesus Christ. Amen. SERMON XXXI. ST. PETER ? S CHARACTER. ACTS III. 12. And when Peter saw it, he answered unto the people. Ye men oi' Israel, why marvel ye at this ? or why look ye so earnestly on us, as though by our own power or holiness we had made this man to walk ? These words, as the text tells us, were spoken by St. Peter, on the occasion of his miraculous cure of the lame man, who was laid at the gate of the temple, and (in the beginning of this chapter) had asked an alms of St. Peter and St. John, as they went up together at the hour of prayer ;—on whom St. Peter fastening his eyes, as in the 4th verse, and de¬ claring he had no such relief to give him as he ex¬ pected, having neither silver nor gold,—but that such as he had, the benefit of that divine power which he had received from his Master, he would impart to him,—he commands him forthwith, in the name of Jesus Christ of Nazareth, to rise up and walk.—And he took him by the hand, and lifted him up, and immediately his feet and ankle-bones re¬ ceived strength ; and he leaped up, stood, and walk¬ ed, and entered with them into the temple, leaping and praising God.— It seems he had been born lame, had passed a whole life of despair, without hopes of ever being restored ;—so that the immediate sense of strength 102 SERMON XXXI. and activity communicated to him at once, in so sur¬ prising and unsought-for a manner, cast him into the transport of mind natural to a man so benefitted beyond his expectation. So that the amazing in¬ stance of a supernatural power ;—the notoriety of the fact, wrought at the hour of prayer ;—the un- exceptionableness of the object,—that it was no im¬ posture,—for they knew that it was he which sat for alms at the beautiful gate of the temple ;—the unfeigned expressions of an enraptured heart al¬ most beside itself, confirming the whole the man that was healed (in the 10th verse) holding his ben¬ efactors, Peter and John,—-entering into the temple with them, walking and leaping, and praising God; —the great concourse of people, drawn together by this event, (in the 11th verse)—for they all ran un¬ to them, into the porch that was called Solomon’s, greatly wondering. Sure never was such a fair op¬ portunity for an ambitious mind to have established a character of superiour goodness and power.—To a man set upon this world, who sought his own praise and honour, what an invitation would it have been to have turned these circumstances to such a purpose 1—to have fallen in with tiie passions of an astonished and grateful city, prepossessed, from what had happened, so strongly in his favour al¬ ready, that little art or management was requisite to have improved their wonder and good opinion in¬ to the highest reverence of his sanctity, awe of his person, or whatever other belief should be neces¬ sary to feed his pride, or serve secret ends of glory and interest !—A mind not sufficiently mortified to the world, might have been templed here to have taken the honour due to God,—and transferred itta SERMON XXXI. 103 himself. He might,—not so a disciple of Christ; —for when Peter saw it,—when he saw the pro¬ pensity in them to be misled on this occasion, he answered and said unto the people, in the words of the text,—Ye men of Israel, why marvel ye at this ? or why look you so earnestly on us, as though by our own power and holiness we had made this man to walk ?—The God of Abraham, and of Isaac, and of Jacob, the God of our fathers, hath glorified his Son Jesus.— O holy, and blessed apostle ! How would thy meek and mortified spirit satisfy itself, in uttering so humble and so just a declara¬ tion ?—What an honest triumph wouldst thou taste the sweets of,—in thus conquering thy passion of Tain glory,—keeping down thy pride,—disclaiming the praises which should have fed it, by telling the wondering spectators, It was not thy own power,— it was not thy own holiness which had wrought this, —thou being of like passions and infirmities ;—but that it was the power of the God of Abraham,—the holiness of thy dear Lord, whom they crucified, op-> erating by faith through thee, who wast but an in¬ strument in his hands.—If thus honestly declining honour, which the occasion so amply invited thee to take ;—if this would give more satisfaction to a mind like thine, than the loudest praises of a mis¬ taken people, what true rapture would be added to it from the reflection,—that in this instance of self- denial,—thou hadst not only done well,—but, what was a stiil more endearing thought, that thou hadst been able to copy the example of thy divine master; who, in no action of his life, sought ever his own praise, but, on the contrary, declined all possible 104 SERMON XXXI. occasions of itand in the only publick instance of honour which he suffered to be given him in his entrance into Jerusalem,—thou didst remember,— it was accepted with such a mixture of humility, that the prediction of the prophet was not more ex¬ actly fulfilled in the hosannahs of the multitude, than in the meekness wherewith he received them, lowly and sitting upon an ass !—How could a disci¬ ple fail of profiting by the example of so humble a master, whose whole course of life was a particular lecture to this virtue, and, in every instance of it, shewed plainly he came not to share the pride and glories of life, or gratify the carnal expectation of ambitious followers ; which, had he affected exter¬ nal pomp, he might have accomplished, by engross¬ ing, as he could have done by a word, all the riches of the world ; and by the splendour of his court and dignity of his person, had been greater than Solo¬ mon in all his glory, and have attracted the ap¬ plause and admiration of the world !—This every disciple knew was in his power;—so that the mean¬ ness of his birth,—the toils and poverty of his iife,— the low offices in which he was engaged, by preach¬ ing the gospel to the poor,—the numberless dangers and inconveniences attending the execution,_were all voluntary.—This humble choice both of friends and family out the meanest of the people,_amongst whom he appeared rather as a servant than a mas¬ ter, coming not as he often told them, to be minis¬ tered unto, but to minister ;—and as the prophet had foretold in that mournful description of him, having no form nor comeliness, nor any beauty that we should desire him,— SERMON XXXI. 105 How could a disciple, you*ll say, reflect without benefit, on this amiable character, with all the other tender pathetick proofs of humility,which his memory would suggest had happened of a piece with it, in the course of his Master’s life ;—but particularly at the conclusion and great catastrophe of it,—at his crucifixion,—the impressions of which could never be forgotten ?—When a life full of so many engaging instances of humility, was crowned with the most endearing one of humbling himself to the death of the cross,—the death of a slave and a malefactor,— suffering himself to be led like a lamb to the slaugh¬ ter.—-dragged to Calvary without opposition or com¬ plaint, and as a sheep before his shearer is dumb, opening not his mouth.— O blessed Jesus ! well migl\t a disciple of thine learn of thee to be meek and lowly of heart, as thou, exhortedst them all, for thou wast meek and lowly : —well might they profit, when such a lesson was seconded by such an example !—It is not to be doubted what force this must have had on the ac¬ tions of those who were attendants and constant fol¬ lowers of our Saviour on earth ;—saw the meekness of his temper in the occurrences of his life, and the amazing proof of it at*his death, who, though he was able to call down legions of angels to his rescue, or by a single act of omnipotence to have destroyed his enemies,—yet suppressed his almighty power,— neither resented,—nor revenged the indignity done him, but patiently suffered himself to be numbered with the transgressors !— It could not well be otherwise, but that every eye¬ witness of this must have been wrought upon, in some degree, as the apostle, to let the same mind be 106 SERMON XXXI. in him which also was in Christ Jesus. Nor will it be disputed how much of the honour of St. Peter’s behaviour in the present transaction might be ow¬ ing to the impressions he received on that memorable occasion of his Lord’s death, sinking still deeper, from the affecting remembrance of the many in¬ stances his Master had given of this engaging vir¬ tue in the course of his life. St. Peter certainly was of a warm and sensible nature, as vve may collect from the sacred writings, —a temper fittest to receive all the advantages which such impressions could give $—and, there¬ fore, as it is a day and place sacred to this great apostle, it may not be unacceptable, if I engage the remainder of your time in a short essay upon his character, principally as it relates to this particular disposition of heart, which is the subject of the dis¬ course. This great apostle was a man of distinction amongst the disciples ; and was one of such virtues and qualifications, as seemed to have recommended him more than the advantage of his years or knowl¬ edge. On his first admission to our Saviour’s acquain¬ tance, he gave a most evident testimony that he was a man of real and tender goodness, when being awakened by the miraculous draught of the fishes, as we read in the filth of St. Luke, and knowing the author must necessarily be from God, he fell down instantly at his feet, broke out into this humble and pious reflection —Depart from me, for I am a sin¬ ful man, O Lord !—The censure, you will say, ex¬ presses him a sinful man but so to censure him¬ self,—with such unaffected modesty, implies more SrlERMON XXXI. 107 effectually than any thing else could,—that he was not, in the common sense of the word, a sinful,—but a good man ; who, like the publican in the temple was no less justified for a self-accusation, extorted merely from the humility of a devout heart, jealous of its own imperfections. And though the words, defiart from me , carry in them the face of fear, yet he who heard them, and knew the heart of the speaker) found they carried in them a greater measure of desire. For Peter was not willing to be discharged from his new guest ; but fearing his unfitness to ac¬ company him, longed to be made more worthy of his conversation. A meek and modest distrust of himself seemed to have had no small share at that time in his natural temper and complexion ; and though it would be greatly improved, and no doubt much better principled by the advantages on which I enlarged above, in his commerce and observation with his Lord and Master,—yet it appears to have been an early and distinguishing part of his charac¬ ter.—And instance of this, though little in itself, and omitted by the other evangelists, is preserved by St* John, in his account of our Saviour’s girding himself with a napkin, and washing the disciples feet ; to which office not one of them is represented as mak¬ ing any opposition. But when he came to Simon Peter, the Evangelist tells,—Peter said to him, Dost thou wash my feet ? Jesus said unto him, What 1 do tnou knowest not now, but shalt know hereafter.—Peter said unto him, Thou shalt never wash my feet.— Humility for a moment triumphed over his submis¬ sion ; and he expostulates with him upon it, with all the earnest and tender opposition which was naturaj to a humble heart, confounded with shame, that his SOS SERMON XXXI. Lord and Master should insist to do so mean and pain- fful an act of servitude to him. I would sooner form a judgment of a man’s tem¬ per, from his behaviour on such little occurrences of life as these, than from the more weighed and im¬ portant actions, where a man is more upon his guard ;—has more preparation to disguise the true disposition of his heart, and more temptation when disguised, to impose it on others. 'This management was no part of Peter’s charac¬ ter ; who, with all the real and unaffected humility which he shewed, was possessed of such a quick sensibility and promptness of nature, which utterly unfitted him for art and premeditation ; though this particular cast of temper had its disadvantages, at the same time, as it led him to an unreserved dis¬ covery of the opinions and prejudices of his heart, which he was wont to declare, and sometimes in so open and unguarded a manner, as exposed him to the sharpness of a rebuke where he could least bear it. I take notice of this, because it will help us in some measure to reconcile a seeming contradiction in his character, which will naturally occur here, from considering that great and capital failing of his life, when, by a presumptuous declaration of his own fortitude, he fell into the disgrace of denying his Lord ; in both of which he acted so opposite to the character here given, that you will ask,—how could so humble a man as you describe, ever have been guilty of so self-sufficient and unguarded a vaunt, as that, though he should die with his Master,—yet would he not deny him ?—Or whence,—that so sin- SERMON XXXI. 109 cere and honest a man was not better able to per¬ form it ?— The case was this Our Lord, before he was betrayed, had taken oc¬ casion to admonish his disciples of the peril of laps¬ ing ; telling them (31st verse) (( All ye shall be of- “ fended because of me this night.” To which Pe¬ ter answering, with a zeal mixed with too much confidence,—that though all should be offended, yet will I never be offended. To check this trust in himself, our Saviour replies, that he in particular should deny him thrice. But Peter looking upon this monition no farther than as it applied a reproach to his faith, his love, and his courage ; stung to the heart to have them called in question by his Lord, he hastily summons them all up to form his final re¬ solution Though I should die with thee, yet will 1 not deny thee. The resolve was noble and dutiful to the last degree, and I make no doubt as honest a one ; that is, both as just in the matter, and as sin¬ cere in the intention, as ever was made by any of mankind ; — his character not suffering us to imag¬ ine he made it in a braving dissimulation no ;__ for he proved himself sufficiently in earnest by his subsequent behaviour in the garden, when he drew his sword against a whole band of men, and thereby made it appear, that he had less concern for his own life than he had for his Master’s safety. How then came his resolution to miscarry ?—Tne reason seems purely this :—Peter grounded the execution of it upon too much confidence in himself; doubted not but his will was in his power, whether God’s grace assisted him or not ; surely thinking, that what he had courage to resolve so honestly, he haci VOL. V. F SERMON XXXI. 110 likewise ability to perform. This was his mistake; and though it was a very great one, yet it was in some degree a-kin to a virtue, as it sprung merely from a consciousness of his integrity and truth, and too adventurous a conclusion of what they would enable him to perform, on the sharpest encounters for his Master’s sake : so that his failing in this p©int, was but a consequence of this hasty and ill-consider¬ ed resdlve ; and his Lord, to rebuke and punish him for it, did no other than leave him to his own strength to perform it; which, in effect, was almost the same as leaving him to the necessity of not performing it at all. The great apostle had not considered, that he who precautioned him was the Searcher of Hearts, and needed not that any should testify of man, for he knew what was in man ; he did not remember that his Lord had said before, “ Without me ye can (i do nothing —that the exertions of all our facul¬ ties were under the power of his will :—he had for¬ got the knowledge of this needful truth, on this one unhappy juncture, where he had so great a tempta¬ tion to the contrary, though he was full of the per¬ suasion in every other transaction of his life, but most visibly here in the text; where he breaks forth in the warm language of a heart still overflowing with remembrance of this very mistake he had once committed,— “ Ye men of Israel, why marvel ye at “ this ? as though by our own power and holiness i l we had wrought this ?—the God of Abraham, of “ Isaac, and of Jacob, the God of our fathers, through “ faith in his name, hath made this man whole, “ whom ye see and know.” This is the be&t answer I am able to make to this objection against the uniformity of the apostle’s SERMON XXXI. Hi character which I have given :—upon which let it be added,-— that was no such apology capable of be¬ ing made in its behalf,—that the truth and regular¬ ity of a character is not, in justice, to be looked up- cn as broken, from any one single act or omission which may seem a contradiction to it;—the best of men appear sometimes to be strange’ compounds of contradictory qualities ; and, were the accidental oversights and folly of the wisest man,—the failings and imperfections of a religious man,—the hasty acts and passionate words of a meek man,—were they to rise up in judgment against them,—and an ill-natured judge be suffered to mark in this manner what has been done amiss,—what character so un¬ exceptionable as to be able to stand before him ?— so that, with the candid allowances which the infirm¬ ities of a man may claim when he falls through sur¬ prise more than a premeditation,—one may venture upon the whole to sum up Peter’s character in a few words :—he w r as a man sensible in his nature,—of quick passions, tempered with the greatest humility, and most unaffected poverty of spirit that ever met in such a character.—So that in the only criminal instance of his life, which I have spoken to, you are at a loss which to admire most;—the tenderness and sensibility of his soul, in being wrought upon to re¬ pentance by a look from Jesus-;—or the uncommon humility of it, which he testified thereupon, in the bitterness of his sorrow for what he had done.—He was once presumptuous in trusting to his own strength ; his general and true character was that of the most engaging meekness,—distrustful of him¬ self and his abilities to the last degree. Jtl 2 SERMON XXXI. He denied his Master:—but in all instances of his life but that, was a man of the greatest truth and sincerity ;—to which part of his character our Sa¬ viour has given an undeniable testimony, in confer- ing on him the symbolical name of Cephas, a rock, a name the most expressive of constancy and firm¬ ness. He was a man of great love to his Master,—and of no less zeal for his religion, of which, from among many, I shall take one instance out of St. John, with which I shall conclude this account';—where, upon the desertion of several other disciples,—our Saviour puts the question to the twelve,— u Will il ye also go away ?”—Then, says the text, “ Peter answered and said,—Lord ! whither shall we go ? Thou hast the words of eternal life,—and we be- lieve, and know that thou art Christ the Son of ( of God —Now, if we look into the gospel, we find what our Saviour pronounced on this very con¬ fession. (i Blessed art thou, Simon Barjona, for flesh and blood hath not revealed it unto thee,—but my u Father which is in heaven.”—That our Saviour had the words of eternal life,-—Peter was able to de¬ duce from principles of natural reason ; because rea¬ son was able to judge from the internal marks of his doctrine, that it was worthy God, and accommodated properly to advance human nature and human hap¬ piness.—But for all this,—reason could not infalli¬ bly determine that the messenger of this doctrine was the Messias, the eternal Son of the living God :—to know this, required an illumination ;—and this illu¬ mination, I say, seems to have been vouchsafed at that instant as a reward,—as would have been suffi* SERMON XXXt. 113 cieut evidence by itself of the disposition of his heart— I have now finished this short essay upon the char¬ acter of St. Peter, not with a loud panegyrick upon the power of his keys, or a ranting encomium upon some monastick qualifications with which a popish pulpit would ring upon such an occasion, without doing much honour to the saint, or good to the audi¬ ence ;—but have drawn it with truth and sobriety, representing it as it was, as consisting of virtues the most worthy of imitation,—and grounded, not upon apocryphal accounts and legendary inventions, the wardrobe from whence popery dresses out her saints on these days, but upon matters of fact in the sa¬ cred scriptures, in which all Christians agree. And since I have mentioned popery, I cannot better con¬ clude than by observing, how ill the spirit and char¬ acter of that church resembles that particular part of St. Peter’s which has been made the subject of this discourse.—Would one think that a church, which thrusts itself under this apostle’s patronage, and claims her power under him, would presume to ex¬ ceed the degrees of it, which he acknowledged to possess himself ?—But how ill are your expectations answered, when, instead of the humble declaration in the text,—“Ye men of Israel, marvel not at us, “ as if our own power and holiness had wrought “ thisyou hear a language and behaviour from the Romish court, as opposite to it as insolent words and actions can frame So that, instead of “Ye men of Israel, marvel not “ at us,”—Ye men of Israel, do marvel at us,_hold us m admiration. Approach our sacred pontiff, (who is not only holy, but holiness itself j) approach 124 SERMON XXXI. his person with reverence, and deem it the greatest honour and happiness of your lives to fall down be¬ fore his chair, and be admitted to kiss his feet. Think not, as if it were not our own holiness which merits all the homage you can pay us. It is eur own holiness, the superabundance of it, of which, having more than we know what to do with our¬ selves, from works of supererogation, we have trans¬ ferred the surplus in ecclesiastick warehouses, and, in pure zeal for the good of your souls, have estab¬ lished publick banks of merit, ready to be draw'll up¬ on at all times. Think not, ye men of Israel, or say within your¬ selves that we are unprofitable servants ;—we hav« no good works to spare ; or that, if we had, we can¬ not make this use of them ;—that we have no pow¬ er to circulate our indulgences,—and huckster them out, as w r e do, through all the parts of Christendom. —Know ye by these presents, that it is our own power which does this,—the plenitude of our apos- tolick power operating with our own holiness, that enables us to bind and loose, as seems meet to us on earth ;—to save your souls or deliver them up to Satan ; and, as we please or displease, to indulge whole kingdoms at once, or excommunicate them all ;—binding kings in chains, and your nobles in links of iron. That we may never again feel the effects of such language and principles,—may God of his mercy grant us. Amen. SERMON XXXII. THIRTIETH OF JANUARY. EZRA IX. 6, 7 . And I said, O my God, I am ashamed and blush to lift up my face to thee, my God :—for our iniquities are increased over our head, and our trespass is grown up unto the heavens.—Since the days of our fathers have we been in a great trespass unto this day. There is not, I believe, throughout all history y an instance of so strange and obstinately corrupt a people as the Jews, of whom Ezra complains :—for though, on one hand, there never was a people thafe received so many testimonies of God’s favour to en¬ courage them to be good ;—so, on the other hand, there never was a people which so often felt the scourge of their iniquities, to dishearten them from doing evil. And yet, neither the one nor the other seem’d ever able to make them either the wiser or better ; —neither God’s blessings nor his corrections, could ever soften them ;—they still continued a thankless, unthinking people, who profited by no lessons, nei¬ ther were to be woo with mercies, nor terrified with punishments ; but, on every succeeding trial and occasion, extremely disposed against God, tjo go astray and act wickedly. In the words of the text, the prophet’s heart over¬ flows with sorrow upon his reflection of this unwor- SERMON XXXII. ns thy part of their character ; and the manner of his application to God is so expressive of his humble sense of it,—and there is something in the words so full of tenderness and shame for them upon that score,—*as bespeaks the most paternal, as well as pastoral concern for them_And he said,—“ 0,my “ God ! I am ashamed ;—and blush to lift up my il my face to thee, my God No doubt the holy man was confounded to look back - upon that long- series of so many of God’s undeserved mercies to them, of which they had made so bad and ungrate¬ ful a use :—he considered, that they had all the mo¬ tives that could lay restraints either upon a consid¬ erate or a reasonable people ;—that God had not only created, upheld, and favoured them with all advantages in common with the rest of their fellow- creatures,—but had been particularly kind to them; •—that when they were in the house of bondage, in the most hopeless condition,—he had heard their cry, and took compassion upon their afflictions, and, hy a chain of great and mighty deliverances, had set them free from the yoke of oppression.:—The prophet, no doubt, reflected at the same time, that, besides this instance of God’s goodness in first fav¬ ouring their miraculous escape, a series of succes¬ ses, not to be accounted for from second causes and the natural course of events, had crowned their heads in so remarkable a manner, as to afford an evident proof, not only of God’s general concern, but of his particular providence and attachment to them, above all people.—In the wilderness he led them like sheep, and kept them as the apple of his eye he suffered nq man to do them wrong, but reproved even kings for their sake ;—that when SERMON XXXII. nr they entered into the promised land, no force was able to stand before them when in possession, no ar¬ my was ever able to drive them out 5 —that nations, greater and mightier than they, were thrust forth from before them :—that, in a word, all nature for a time was driven backwards by the hands of God, to serve them ; and that even the sun itself had stood still in the midst of heaven, to secure their victo¬ ries ;—that when all these mercies were cast away upon them,—and no principle of gratitude or inter¬ est could make them an obedient people,—God had tried by misfortunes to bring them back ;—that when instructions, warnings, invitations, miracles, prophets, and holy guides had no effect, — he at last suffered them to reap the wages of their folly, by letting them fall again into the same state of bond¬ age in Babylon, from whence he had first raised them.— Here it is that Ezra pours out his confes¬ sion.—It was no small aggravation to Ezra’s con¬ cern, to find that, even this last trial had no good effect upon their conduct ;—that all the alternatives of promises and threats, comforts and afflictions, instead of making them grow the better, made them apparently grow the worse. How could he inter¬ cede for them but with shame and sorrow !_and say, as in the text, “ O my God ! I am ashamed, “ and blush to lift up my face to thee !—for our in- “ iquities are increased over our heads, and our tres- il pass is grown up unto the heavens.—Since the “ days of our fathers have we been in a great tres- “ pass unto this day.” Thus much for the prophet’s humble confession to God for the Jews, for which he had but too just a foundation given by them ;--and I know not how s % 118 SERMON XXXII. I can make a better use of the words, as the occa¬ sion of the day led me to the choice of them, than by a serious application of the same sad confession in regard to ourselves. Our fathers, like those of the Jews in Ezra’s time, no doubt have done amiss, and greatly provoked God by their violence ;—but if our own iniquities, like theirs, are increased over our heads if, since the days of our fathers, we have been in a great tres¬ pass ourselves unto this day,—’tis fit this day, we should be put in mind of it ;—nor can the time and occasion be better employed, than in hearing with patience the reproofs which such a parallel will lead me to give. It must be acknowledged, there is no nation which had ever so many extraordinary reasons and super¬ natural motives to become thankful and virtuous, as the Jews had yet, at the same time, there is no one which has not sufficient (and setting aside at present the consideration of a future state as a re¬ ward for being so) there is no nation under heaven, which, besides the daily blessings of God’s provi¬ dence to them, but have received sufficient bless¬ ings and mercies at the hands of God to engage their best services, and the warmest returns of gratitude they can pay .—There has been a time, may be, when they have been delivered from some grievous calamity,—from the rage of pestilence or famine,—from the edge and fury of the sword,— from the fate and fail of kingdoms around them ;— they may have been preserved by providcntiaL dis¬ coveries, from plots and designs against the well¬ being of their states,—or by critical turns and revo¬ lutions in their favour when beginning to sink j— SERMON XXXII. 119 by some signal interposition of God’s providence —they may have rescued their liberties, and alltha was dear to them, from the jaws of some tyrant ; or may have preserved their religion pure and un¬ corrupted, when all other comforts failed them. If other countries have reason to be thankful to God for any one of these mercies, much more has this of ours, which, at one time or other, hath r e ceived them all ; insomuch, that our history for this last century has scarce been any thing else but the history of our deliverances and God’s blessings ;— and these in so complicated a chain, and with so lit¬ tle interruption, as to be scarce ever vouchsafed to any nation or language besides,—except the Jews ; —and with regard to them, though inferior in the stupendous manner of their working, yet no way so in the extensive goodness of their effects, and the infinite benevolence which must have wrought them for us.—Here then let us stop and look back a mo¬ ment, and enquire, as in the case of the Jews, what great effects all this has had upon our lives ?—and how far worthy we have lived of what we have re¬ ceived ? A. stranger,—when we heard that this island had been so favoured by heaven,—so happy in our laws and religion,—so flourishing in our trade,—so bless¬ ed in our situation and natural product,—and in all of them so often,—so visibly protected by Provi¬ dence,—would conclude, our gratitude and morals had kept pace with our blessings ;—and he would say,—as we are the most blessed and favoured, that we must be the most virtuous and religious people upon the face of the earth. 1 120 SERMON XXXII. Would to God there was any other reason to in* dine one to so charitable a belief !•—for, without running into any common-place declamation upon the wickedness of the age, we may say, within the bounds of truth,—That we have profited in this re¬ spect as little as was possible for the Jews ;—that there is as little virtue, and as little sense of relig¬ ion, at least as little of the appearance of it, as can foe supposed to exist at all in a country where it is countenanced by the state.—Our forefathers, what¬ ever greater degrees of real virtue they were pos¬ sessed of,—God,—who searcheth the heart,—best knows ;—but this is certain, in their days they had at least the form of godliness,—and paid this com¬ pliment to religion, as to wear at least the appear¬ ance and outward garb of it_The publick service of God was better frequented, and in a devout a* well as regular manner :—there was no open pro¬ faneness in our streets to put piety to the blush, or domestick ridicule to make her uneasy, and force her to withdraw. Religion, though treated with freedom, was still treated with respect ; the youth of both sexes kept under greater restraint; good order and good hours were then kept up inmost families; and, in a word, a greater strictness and sobriety of manners main¬ tained throughout amongst people of all ranks and conditions :—so that vice, however secretly it might be practised,-—was ashamed to be seen. But all this has insensibly been borne down ever since the days of our forefathers trespass ; when, to avoid one extreme, we began to run into another; —so that, instead of any great religion amongst us, you see thousands who are tired even of th$ form of SERMON XXXII. 124 it, and who have at length thrown the mask of it aside, as an useless incumbrance. But this licentiousness, he would say, may be chiefly owing to a long course of prosperity, which is apt to corrupt mens minds—God has since this tried you with afflictions ;—you have been visited with a long and expensive war :—God lias sent, moreover, a pestilence amongst your cattle, which has cut off the stock from the fold,—and left no herd in the stalls.—Surely, he’ll say, two such ter¬ rible scourges must have awakened the consciences of the most unthinking part of you, and forced the inhabitants of your land—from such admonitions,— although they failed with the Jews, to have learnt righteousness for themselves. I own this is the natural effect,—and one would lope should always be the natural use and improve^* ment from such calamities for we often find that numbers who, in prosperity, seem to forget God, do yet remember him in the day of trouble and distress. —Yet consider this nationally, we see no such ef¬ fect from it, in fact, as one would be led to expect from the speculation :—for instance,—with all the devastation, bloodshed, and expense which the war has occasioned,—How many converts has it made to frugality, to virtue, or even to seriousness itself ! >—The pestilence amongst our cattle ; though it has distressed and utterly undone so many thou¬ sands, yet what one visible alteration has it made irf the course of our lives ! And though one would imagine that the necessa¬ ry drains of taxes for the one,—and the loss of rents and property from the other, should, in some meas¬ ure, have withdrawn the means of gratifying our 122 SERMOtf XXXII. passions, as we have done, yet, what appearance is there amongst us that it is so ? What one fashionable folly or extravagance has been checked by it ?—Is not there the same luxury and epicurism of entertainments at our tables ?— Do we not pursue with eagerness the same giddy round of trifling diversions ?—Is not the infection diffused amongst people of all ranks, and all ages ? —and even grey hairs, whose sober example and manners ought to check the extravagant sallies of the thoughtless, gay, and unexperienced,—too often totter under the same costly ornaments, and join the general riot ! Where vanity, like this, governs the heart, even charity will allow us to suppose, that a consciousness of their inability to pursue greater excesses, is the only vexation of spirit.—In truth, the observation falls in with the main intention of the discourse ; which is not framed to flatter your follies,—but plainly to point them out, and shew you the general corruption of manners and want of re¬ ligion ;—which all men see,—and which the wise and good so much lament. But the inquirer will naturally go on, and say, that though this representation does not answer his ex¬ pectations, that undoubtedly we must have profited by these lessons in other respects ;—that though we have not approved our understanding in the sight of God, by a virtuous use of our misfortunes, to true wisdom, that we must have improved them, however, to political wisdom :—so that he would say, Though the English do not appear to be a religious people, —they are at least a loyal one :—they have so often felt the scourge of rebellion, and have tasted so much sharp fruit from it, as to have set their teeth on edge SERMON XXXII. 123* forever !—But, good God ! how would he be aston¬ ished to find, that though we have been so often toss’d to and fro by our own tempestuous humours,, that we were not yet sick of the storm ;—that though we solemnly, on every return of this day,lament the guilt of our forefathers in staining their hands in blood, we never once think of our principles and prac¬ tices which tend the same way :—and though the providence of God has set bounds, that they do not work as much mischief as in days of distraction and desolation,—little reason have we to ascribe the merit thereof to our own wisdom ;—so that, when the whole account is stated betwixt us,—there seems nothing to prevent the application of the words in the text;— “ that our iniquities are increased over our l< heads, and our trespass is grown up unto the heav- “ ens.—Since the days of our fathers have we been in ‘‘ a great trespass unto this day —and though it is fit and becoming that we weep for them,—’tis much* more so that we weep for ourselves,—that we lament our own corruptions, and the little advantages we have made of the mercies or chastisements of God, or from the sins and provocations of our forefathers. This is the fruit we are to gather in a day of such humiliation ;•—and unless it produces that for us, by a reformation of our manners, and by turning us from the error of our ways,— the service of this day is more a senseless insult upon the memories of our ancestors, than an honest design to profit by their mis¬ takes and misfortunes, and to become wiser and bet? ter from our reflections upon them. Till this is done, it avails little, though we pray fervently to God not to lay their sins to our charge, whilst we have so many remaining of our own_ i24 SERMON XXXII. Unless we are touched for ourselves, how can we ex¬ pect he should hear our cry ! It is the wicked cor¬ ruption of a people which they are to thank for what¬ ever natural calamities they feel :—this is the very state we are in ; which, by disengaging Providence from taking our part,—will always leave a people exposed to the whole force of accidents, both from within and without :—and however statesmen may- dispute about the causes of the growth or decay of kingdoms,—it is for this cause a matter of eternal truth,—that as virtue and religion are our only re¬ commendation to God,—that they are, consequently, the only true basis of our happiness and prosperity on earth :—and however we may shelter ourselves under distinctions of party,—that a wicked man is the worst enemy the state has ;—and, for the con¬ trary, it will always be found, that a virtuous man is the best patriot, and the best subject the king has ! —and though an individual may say, What will my righteousness profit a nation of men ?—I answer,— If it fail of a blessing here (which is not likely) it will have one advantage,—it will save thy own soul, and give thee that peace at the last, which this world cannot take away ! Which God, of his infinite mercy, grant us all! Amen. HERMON XXXIU. ROMANS II. 4. Bespisest thou the riches of his goodness, and forbearance, and long - suffering, —not knowing that the goodness of God leadeth thee to repentauce :- So says St. Paul. And ECCLESIASTES VIII. 11. Because sentence against an evil work is not executed speedily, there¬ fore the hearts of the sons of men is fully set in them to do evil. Take either as you like it, you will get nothing by the bargain. *Tis a terrible character of the world, which Sol¬ omon is here accounting for,—-that their hearts Avcre fully set in them to do evil.—And the general outcry against the wickedness of the age, in every age from Solomon’s down to this, shews but too lamentably what grounds have all along been given for the com¬ plaint. The disorder and confusion arising in the affairs of the world, from the wickedness of it, being ever such, —so evidently seen, so severely felt, as naturally to induce every one who was a spectator or a suf¬ ferer, to give the melancholy preference to the times he lived in, as if the corruptions of mens manners had not only exceeded the reports of former days, but the power almost of rising above the pitch to which the wickedness of the age was arrived,—How 126 SERMON XXXIII. far they may have been deceived in such calculations I shall not inquire ;—let it suffice, that mankind have ever been bad,—considering what motives they have had to be better :—and, taking this for granted, instead of declaiming against it, let us see whether a discourse may not be as serviceable, by endeavouring, as Solomon has here done, rather to give an account of it, and, by tracing back the evils to their first principles, to direct ourselves to the true remedy against them. Let it here only be premised,—that the wickedness either of the present or past times, whatever scandal and reproach it brings upon Christians,—ought not, in reason, to reflect dishonour upon Christianity, which is so apparently well framed to make us good; —that there is not a greater paradox in nature— than that so good a religion should be no better recommended by its professors.—Though this may seem a paradox,—’tis still, I say, no objection, though it has often been made use of against Christianity since, if the morals of men are not reformed, it is not owing to a defect in the revelation, but ’lis owing to the same causes which defeated all the use and intent of reason, before revelation was given;— for, setting aside the obligations which a divine law lays upon us,—whoever considers the state and condition of human nature, and, upon this view, how much stronger the natural motives are to virtue than to vice, would expect to find the world much better than it is, or ever has been 1—For who would suppose the generality of mankind to betray so much folly, as to act against the common interest of their own kind, as every man does who yields to the temp* tation of what is wrong ?—But, on the other side,— SERMON XXXIII. * 27 if men first look into the practice of the world, and there observe the strange prevalency of vice, and how willing men are to defend as well as to commit it,—one would think they believed that all discourses of virtue and honesty were mere matter of spec¬ ulation for men to entertain some idle hours with ; —and say truly, that men seemed universally to be agreed in nothing but in speaking well and doing ill. —But this casts no more dishonour upon reason than it does upon revelation ;—the truth of the case being this,—That no motives have been great enough to restrain those from sin who have secretly loved it, and only sought pretences for the practice of it ; —so that, if the light of the gospel has not left a sufficient provision against the wickedness of the world,—the true answer is, that there can be none. —’Tis sufficient that the excellency of Christianity in doctrine and precepts, and its proper tendency to make us virtuous as well as happy, is a strong evi¬ dence of its divine originaland these advantages it has above any institution that ever was in the world : — it gives the best directions, the best exam¬ ples, the greatest encouragements, the best helps, and the greatest obligations to gratitude.—But as religion was not to work upon men by way of force and natural necessity,—but by moral persua¬ sion,—which sets good and evil before them ;—so, if men have power to do evil, or choose the good, and will abuse it, this cannot be avoided ;—not only religion, but even reason itself, must necessarily imply a freedom of choice ; and all the beings in the worid which have it, were created free to stand or free to fall ;—and, therefore, men that will not be wrought upon by this way of address, must expect 128 SERMON XXXIII. and be contented, to feel the stroke of that rod which is prepared for the back of fools, oft-times in this world, but undoubtedly in the next, from the hands of a righteous Governor, who will finally render to every man according to his works. Because this sentence is not always executed spee¬ dily, is the wise man’s account of the general licen¬ tiousness which prevailed through the race of man¬ kind—so early as his days ; and we may allow it a place amongst the many other fatal causes of de- j pravation in our own ;—a few of which I shall beg leave to add to this explication of the wise man’s; subjoining a few practical cautions in relation to each, as I go along. To begin with Solomon’s account in the text,— that, because sentence against an evil work is not exe¬ cuted speedily, therefore the hearts of the sons of men are fully set in them to do evil. It seems somewhat hard to understand the con¬ sequence why men should grow more desperately wicked—because God is merciful, and gives them apace to repent—This is no natural effect,—nor does the wise man intend to insinuate that the good¬ ness and long-suffering of God is the cause of the wickedness of man, by a direct efficacy to harden sinners in their course.—But the scope of his dis¬ course is this, Because a vitious man escapes at present, he is apt to draw false conclusions from it, and, from the delay of God’s punishments in this life, either to conceive them at so remote a distance, or perhaps so uncertain, that though he has some doubt¬ ful misgivings of the future, yet he hopes, in the main, that his fears are greater than his danger and, from observing some of the worst of men both SERMON XXXIII. 129 live and die without any outward testimony of God’s wrath,—draws from thence some flattering ground of encouragement for himself, and, with the wicked in the psalm says in his heart, Tush, I shall never be cast down, there shall no harm happen unto me ; —as if it was necessary, if God is to punish at all, that he must do it presently ;—which, by the way, would rather seem to bespeak the rage and fury of an incensed party, than the determination of a wise and patient Judge,—who respites punishment to an¬ other state, declaring, for the wisest reasons, this is not the time for it to take place in,—but that he has appointed a day for it, wherein he will judge the world in righteousness, and make such unalterable distinctions betwixt the good and bad,—as to render his future judgment a full vindication of his justice. That mankind have ever made an ill use of this forbearance, is, and, I fear, will ever be the case:— and St. Peter, in his description of the scoffers in the latter days, who, he tells us, shall walk after their own lusts (the worst of all characters) gives the same sad solution of what should be their unhap¬ py encouragement ;—for that they would say,— where is the promise [where is the threatening or declaration of e7rayfeMct] of his coming ?—for, since the fathers fell asleep, all things continue as they were from the beginning of the creation ;—that is, the world goes on in the same uninterrupted course, where all things fall alike to all, without any inter¬ position from above,—or any outward token of di¬ vine displeasure :—upon this ground, “ Come ye,’* say they, as the prophet represents them, “ I will (i fetch wine, and we will All ourselves with strong 130 SERMON XXXIII. (( drink ; and to-morrow shall be as this day, and “ much more abundant.” Now, if you consider, you will find that all this false way of reasoning doth arise from that gross piece of self-flattery, that such do imagine God to be like themselves ;—that is, as cruel and revenge¬ ful as they are ;—and they presently think, if a fel¬ low-creature offended them at the rate that sinners are said to offend God, and they had as much power in their hands to punish and torture them as he has, they would be sure to execute it speedily ;—but, because they see God does it not, therefore they conclude, that all the talk of God’s anger against vice, and his future punishment of ity—is-mere talk, calculated for the terror of old women and children. —Thus speak they peace to their souls, when there is no peace ;—for though a sinner (which the wise man adds by way of caution after the text)—for though a sinner do evil a hundred times, and his days be prolonged upon the earth,—yet sure I know, that it shall be well with them that fear God ;—but shall not be well with the 'wicked.—Upon which ar¬ gument, the psalmist, speaking in the name of God, —uses this remonstrance to one under this fatal mis¬ take, which has misled thousands:—“These things “ thou didst, and I kept silence.”—And it seems this silence was interpreted into consent ;—for it follows,— “ and thou thoughtest 1 was altogether u such a one as thyself —but the psalmist adds, how ill he took this at mens hands, and that they should not know the difference between the forbear¬ ance of sinners and his neglect of their sins ;—“but “ 1 will reprove th e, and set them in order before il thee.”—Upon the whole of which, he bids them SERMON XXXIII. 131 be better'advised, and consider, lest, while they for¬ get God, he pluck them away, and there be none to deliver them. Thus much for the first ground and cause which the text gives, why the hearts of the sons of men are so fully set in them to do evil ;—upon which I have only one or two cautions to add,—that, in the first place, we frequently deceive ourselves in the calculation that sentence shall not be speedily exe¬ cuted.—By sad experience, vitious and debauched men find this matter to turn out very different in practice from their expectations in theory ; God having so contrived the nature of things throughout the whole system of moral duties, that every vice, in some measure, should immediately revenge itself upon the doer ;—that falsehood and unfair dealing ends in distrust and dishonour that drunkenness and debauchery should weaken the thread of life, and cut it so short, that the transgressor shall not live out half his days ;—that pride should be follow¬ ed by mortifications ;—extravagance by poverty and distress ;—that the revengeful and malicious should be the greatest tormentor of himself,—the perpetu¬ al disturbance of his own mind being so immediate a chastisement, as to verify what the wise man says upon it,—that, as the merciful man does good to his own soul, so he that is cruel troubieth his own flesh. In all which cases there is a punishment independ¬ ent of these,—and that is, the punishment which a man’s own mind takes upon itself, from the remorse of doing what is wrong. Prima est tiec ultio ,—this is the first revenge which (whatever other punish¬ ments he may escape) is sure to follow close upon his. heels, and haunts him wherever he goes -for 132 SERMON XXXIII. whenever a man commits a wilful bad action,—he drinks down poison, which, though it may work slow¬ ly, will work surely, and give him perpetual pains and heart-aches,—and, if no means be used to expel it, will destroy him at last;—so that, notwithstand¬ ing that final sentence of God is not executed speed¬ ily, in exact weight and measure,—there is, never¬ theless, a sentence executed, which a man’s own conscience pronounces against him ;—and every wicked man, I believe, feels as regular a process within his own breast commenced against himself, and finds himself as much accused, and as evidently and impartially condemned for what he has done amiss, as if he had received sentence before the most awful tribunal;—which judgment of conscience, as it can be looked upon in no other light but as an an¬ ticipation of that righteous and unalterable sentence which will be pronounced hereafter by that Being to whom he is finally to give an account of his ac¬ tions,—I cannot conceive the state of his mind un¬ der any character than of that anxious doubtfulness described by the prophet,— “ That the wicked are “ like the troubled sea when it cannot rest, whose u waters cast up mire and filth.” A second caution against this uniform ground of false hope, in sentence not being executed speedily* will arise from this consideration,—That, in our vain calculation of this distant point of retribution, tve generally respite it to the day of judgment and, as that may be a thousand or ten thousand years off, it proportionably lessens the terror.—To rectify this mistake, we should first consider, that the dis¬ tance of a thing no way alters the nature of it.— 2dly, That we are deceived in this distant prospect, SERMON XXXIII. 133 r.ot considering that, however far off we may fix it in this belief, that, in fact, it is no farther off from every man than the day of his own death ;—and how certain that day is, we need not surely be re¬ minded ;—’tis the certainty of the matter, and of an event which will as surely come to pass as that the sun shall rise to-morrow morning,—that should en¬ ter as much into our calculations as if it was hang¬ ing over our heads ;—for though, in our fond imag- inations, we dream of living many years upon the earth,—how unexpectedly are we summoned from it !—How oft, in the strength of our age, in the midst of our projects,—-when we are promising ourselves the ease of many years !—how oft, at that very time, and in the height of this imagination, is the decree scaled, and the commandment gone forth to call us into another world 1 This may suffice for the examination of this one great cause of the corruption of the world ;—from whence I should proceed, as I purposed, to an in¬ quiry after some other unhappy causes which have a share in this evil. But I have taken up so much more of your time in this than I first intended,—that I shall defer what I have to say to the next occasion, and put an end to this discourse, by an answer to a question often asked relative to this argument, in prejudice of Christianity, which cannot be more seasonably an¬ swered than in a discourse at this time ;_and that is, —Whether the Christian religion has done the world any service in reforming the lives and morals of mankind,—which some, who pretend to have considered the present state of vice, seem to doubt Vol. ?. a 134* SERMON XXXIII. of ?—This objection I, in some measure, have anti¬ cipated in the beginning of this discourse and, what I have to add to that argument is this,—- That, as it is impossible to decide the point by evi¬ dence of facts, which, at so great a distance, cannot be brought together and compared,—it must be decid¬ ed by reason and the probability of things ; upon which issue, one might appeal to the most profess¬ ed deist, and trust him to determine,—whether the lives of those who are set loose from all obligations but those of conveniency,—can be compared with those who have been blessed with the extraordina¬ ry light of a religion ?—and whether so just and holy a religion as the Christian, which sets restraints even upon our thoughts,—a religion which gives us the most engaging ideas of the perfections of God, —at the same time that it impresses the most aw¬ ful ones of his majesty and power ;—a Being rich in mercies, but, if they are abused, terrible in his judgments ;—one constantly about our secret paths, —about our beds ;—who spieth out all our ways,— noticeth all our actions, and is so pure in his nature, that he will punish even the wicked imaginations of the heart, and has appointed a day wherein he will enter into this enquiry, and execute judgment according as we have deserved ?—- If either the hopes or fears, the passions or reason of men are to be wrought upon at all, such princi¬ ples must have an effect, though, T own, very far short of what a thinking man should expect from such motives. No doubt, there is great room for amendment in the Christian world ;— and the professors of our ho¬ ly religion may, in general, be said to be a very cor- SERMON XXXIII. 1,35 rupt and bad generation of men,—considering what reasons and obligations they have to be better.—Yet still I affirm, if those restraints were lessened,—the world would be infinitely worse and, therefore, we cannot sufficiently bless and adore the goodness of God for those advantages, brought by the coming of Christ;—which God grant that we may live to be more deserving of;—that, in the last day, when he shall come again to judge the world, we may rise to to life immortal. Amen. SERMON XXXIY. TRUST IN GOD. PSAL. XXXYir. 3. Put thou thy trust in the Lord. Whoever seriously reflects upon the state and condition of man, and looks upon that dark side of it_ which represents his life as open to so many causes of trouble ;—when he sees how often he eats the bread of affliction, and that he • is born to it as naturally as the sparks fly upwards :—that no rank or degrees of men are exempted from this law of our beings : but that all, from the high cedar ofLi- banus to the humble shrub upon the wall, are shook in their turns by numberless calamities and distres¬ ses :-~when one sits down and looks upon this gloomy side of things, with all the sorrowful chang¬ es and chances which surround us,—at first sight, —would not one wonder, how the spirit of a man could bear the infirmities of his nature, and what it is that supports him as it does, under the many evil ac¬ cidents which he meets with in his passage through this valley of tears ?—Without some certain aid within us to bear us up,—so tender a frame as ours would be but ill fitted to encounter what generally befalls it in this rugged journey :—and accordingly we find, that we are so curiously wrought by an all* wise hand with a view to this, that, in the very com¬ position and texture of our nature, there is a reme- SERMON XXXIV. 13 r iy and provision left against most of the evils we suffer we being so ordered, that the principle of selfdove, given us for preservation, comes in here to our aid,—by opening a door of hope, and, in the worst emergencies, flattering us with a belief that we shall extricate ourselves, and live to see better days. This expectation, though in fact it no way alters the nature of the cross accidents to which we lie open, or does at all pervert the course of them,— yet imposes upon the sense of them, and, like a se¬ cret spring in a well-contrived machine, though it eannot prevent, at least, it counterbalances the pres¬ sure, and so bears up this tottering, tender frame under many a violent shock and hard jostling, which otherwise would unavoidably overwhelm it. With¬ out such an inward resource, from an inclination, which is natural to man, to trust and hope for re¬ dress in the most deplorable conditions,—his state in this life would be, of all creatures, the most mis¬ erable. When his mind was either wrung with af¬ fliction, or his body lay tortured with the gout or stone, did he think that in this world there should be no respite to his sorrow ;—could he believe the pains he endured would continue equally intense, without remedy,—without intermission,—with what deplorable lamentation would he languish out his day !—and how sweet, as Job says, would the “ clods “ of the valley be to him !” But so sad a persuasion, whatever grounds there may be sometimes for it, scarce ever gets full possession of the mind of man, which by nature struggles against despair ; so that, whatever part of us suffers, the darkest mind in¬ stantly ushers in this relief to it,—points out to hope, 138 SERMON XXXIV. —encourages to build, though on a sandy founds- tion, and raises an expectation in us, that things will come to a fortunate issue. And indeed it is something surprising to consider the strange force of this pas¬ sion ;—what wonders it has wrought in supporting mens spirits in all ages, and under such inextrica¬ ble difficulties, that they have sometimes hoped, as the apostle expresses it, even against hope,—against all likelihood I—and have looked forwards with comfort under misfortunes, when there has been little or nothing to favour such an expectation ! This flattering propensity in ns, which I have here represented, as it is built upon one of the most deceitful of human passions (that is, self-love) which at all times inclines us to think better of our¬ selves and conditions than there is ground for; how great soever the relief is which a man draws from it at present, it too often disappoints in the end, leav¬ ing him to go on his way sorrowing, mourning, a3 the prophet says, that his hope is lost ; so that, af* ter all, in our severer trials, we still find a necessi¬ ty of calling in something to aid this principle, and direct it so, that it may not wander with this uncer¬ tain expectation of what may never be accomplish¬ ed, but fix itself upon a proper object of trust and reliance that is able to fulfil our desires, to hear our cry, and to help us. The passion of hope without this, though in straits a man may support his spirits for a time with a general expectation of better for¬ tune,—yet, like a ship tossed, without a pilot, upon a troublesome sea, it may float upon the surface for a while, but is never, never likely to be brought to the haven where it would be. To accomplish this, reason and religion are called in at length, and join SERMON XXXIV. 139 with nature in exhorting us to hope ; but to hope in God, in whose hands are the issues of life and death; and without whose knowledge and permission, we know that not a hair of our heads can fall to the ground. Strengthened with this anchor of hope, which keeps us steadfast when the rains descend, and the floods come upon us,—however the sorrows of a man are multiplied, he bears up his head, looks towards heaven with confidence, waiting for the sal¬ vation of God : he then builds upon a rock against which the gates of hell cannot prevail. He may be troubled, it is true, on every side, but shall not be distressed; perplexed, yet not in despair. Though he walks through the valley of the shadow of death, even then he fears no evil ; this rod and this staff comfort him. The virtue of this had been sufficiently tried by David, and had, no doubt, been of use to him in the course of a life full of afflictions ; many of which were so great, that he declares, that he should veri¬ ly have fainted under the sense and apprehension of them, but that he believed to see the goodness of the Lord in the land of the living. He believed 1—- How could he do otherwise ? He had all the con¬ viction that reason and inspiration could give him, —that there was a Being, in whom every thing con¬ curred which could be the proper object of trust and confidence .power to help, and goodness al¬ ways to incline him to do it.—He knew this infinite Being, though his dwelling was so high, that his glory was above the heavens, yet humbled him¬ self to behold the things that are done in heaven and earth ;—that he was not an idle and distant spectator of what passed there, but that he was a present help in time of trouble j—that he J40 SERMON XXXIV. bow’d the heavens and came down, to overrule the course of things ; delivering the poor, and him that was in misery, from him that was too strong for him ; lifting the simple out of his distress, and guarding him by his providence, so that no man should do him wrong :—“ that neither the sun u should smite him by day, neither the moon by 61 night.”—Of this the psalmist had such evidence from his observation on the life of others, with the strongest conviction, at the same time, which a long life full of personal deliverances could give; all which taught him the value of the lesson in the text, from which he had received so much encour¬ agement himself, that he transmits it for the benefit of the whole race of mankind after him, to support them, as it had done him, under the afflictions which befell him. u Trust in God —as if he had said, Whosoever thou art that shall fall into any such straits or trou¬ bles as I have experienced, learn by my example where to seek for succour ;—trust not in princes, nor in any child of man, for there is no help in them: —.the sons of men who are of low degree are vani¬ ty, and are not able to help thee ; men of high degree are a lie,—too often deceive thy hopes, and will not help thee :—but thou, when thy soul is in heaviness, turn thy eyes from the earth, and look up towards heaven, to that infinitely kind and powerful Being, who neither slumbereth nor sleepeth ; who is a pre¬ sent help in time of trouble :—despond not, and say within thyself—-why his chariot wheels stay so long? —and why he vouchsafed thee not a speedy relief? —but arm thyself in thy misfortunes with patience and fortitude ;—trust in God, who sees all those SERMON XXXIV. 141 conflicts under which thou labourest,—who knows thy necessities afar off,—and puts all thy tears into his bottle ;—who sees every careful thought and pensive look ;—and hears every sigh and melan¬ choly groan thou utterest. In all thy exigencies, trust and depend on him ; —nor ever doubt but he, who heareth the cry of the fatherless, and defendeth the cause of the widow, if it is just, will hear thine, and either lighten thy bur¬ den, and let thee go free ;—or, which is the same, if that seems not meet, by adding strength to thy mind, to enable thee to sustain what he has suffered to be laid upon thee. Whoever recollects the particular psalms said to be composed by this great man, under the several distresses and cross accidents of his life, will per* ceive the justice of this paraphrase, which is agree¬ able to the strain of reasoning—which runs through, —and is little else than a recollection of his own words and thoughts upon those occasions ; in all which he appears to have been no less signal in his- afflictions than in his piety, and in that goodness of soul which he discovers under them.—I said, the- reflections upon his ow T n life and providential es¬ capes, which he had experienced, had had a share in forming these religious sentihients of trust in his mind which had so early taken root, that when he was going* to fight the Philistine,—when he was but a youth and stood before Saul,—he had already, learned to argue in this manner :—Let no man’s heart, fail him ;—‘‘thy servant kept his father’s “ sheep, and there came a lion and a bear, and took “ a lamb out of the flock ; and I went out after him “ and smote him, and delivered it out of his mouth ?• 142 SERMON XXXIV. <{ and when he arose against me, I caught him by “ the beard, and smote him, and slew him ;—thy li servant slew both the lion and the bear ;—and this ‘‘ uncircumcised Philistine will be as one of them; “ —for the Lord, who delivered me out of the paw “ of the lion, and out of the paw of the bear,—he will deliver me out of his hand.”— The conclusion was natural, and the experience which every man has had of God’s former loving¬ kindness and protection to him, either in dangers or distress, does unavoidably engage him to think in the same train.—It is observable that the apostle St. Paul, encouraging the Corinthians to bear with pa¬ tience the trials incident to human nature, reminds them of the deliverances that God did formerly vouchsafe to him and his fellow-labourers, Gaius and Aristarchus‘;—and on that ground builds a rock of encouragement, for future trust and dependence on him.—His life had been in very great jeopardy at Ephesus,—where he had like to have been brought out to the theatre, to be devoured by wild beasts, and indeed had no human means to avert,—and con¬ sequently to escape it ;—and therefore, he tells them, that he had this advantage by it,—That the more he believed he should be put to death, the more he was engaged by his deliverance, never to depend on any worldly trust, but only on God, who can rescue from the greatest extremity ; even from the grave and death itself.—« For we would not, “ brethren, says he, have you ignorant of our trouble, “ which came to us in Asia, that we were pressed a out of measure, above our strength, insomuch, “ that we despaired even of life ;—but we had the “ sentence of death in ourselves, that we should not il trust in ourselves, but in God, who raiseth the SERMON XXXIV. 143 li dead, who delivered us from so great a death, and il doth deliver, and in whom we trust that he will 11 still deliver us.” And indeed a stronger argument cannot be brought for future trust, than the remembrance of past pro¬ tection ;—for what ground or reason can I have to distrust the kindness of that person who has always been my friend and benefactor ? On whom can I better rely for assistance in the day of my distress, than on him who stood by me in all mine affliction ?—and, when I was at the brink of destruction, delivered me out of all my troubles ? Would it not be highly ungrateful, and reflect either upon his goodness or his sufficiency, to distrust that Providence which has always had a watchful eye over me?—and who, according to his gracious promises, will never leave me, nor forsake me; and who in all my wants, in all my emergencies, has been abundantly more willing to give than I to ask it ?—-If the former and the latter rain have hitherto descended upon the earth in due season, and seed¬ time and harvest have never yet failed,—why should I fear famine in the land, or doubt, but that he who feedeth the raven, and providently catereth for the sparrow, should likewise be my comfort ?_How unlikely is it that ever he should suffer his truth to fail 1—This train of reflection, from the considera¬ tion of past mercies, is suitable and natural to all mankind ;—there being no one, who by calling to mind God’s kindnesses, which have been ever of old, but will see cause to apply the argument to himself. And though, in looking back upon the events which have befallen us, we are apt to attribute too g 3 144 SERMON XXXIV. much to the arm of flesh, in recounting the more successful parts of them, saying,—My wisdom, my parts, and address, extricated me from this misfor¬ tune ;—my foresight and penetration saved me from a second ;—my courage, and the mightiness of my strength, carried me through a third :—however we are accustomed to talk in this manner,—yet, whoev¬ er coolly sits down and reflects upon the many ac¬ cidents (though very improperly called so) which have befallen him in the course of his life ;—when he considers the many amazing turns in his favour, sometimes in the most unpromising cases,—and of¬ ten brought about by the most unlikely causes « when he remembers the particular providences which have gone along with him,—the many per¬ sonal deliverances which have preserved him,—the unaccountable manner in which he has been ena¬ bled to get through difficulties, which on all sides beset him at one time of his life, or the strength of mind he found himself endowed with to encounter afflictions which fell upon him at another period,— where is the man, I say, who looks back with the least religious sense upon what has thus happened to him, who could not give you sufficient proofs of God’s power, and his arm over him, and recount several cases wherein the God of Jacob was his help, and the Holy One of Israel his redeemer 1 Hast thou ever lain upon the bed of languishing, or laboured under a grievous distemper which threatened thy life ? Call to mind thy sorrowful and pensive spirit at that time ; and add to it, who it was that had mercy on thee, that brought thee out ©f darkness and the shadow of death, and made all thy bed in thy sickness. SERMON XXXIV. 145 Hath the scantiness of thy condition hurried thee into great straits and difficulties, and brought thee almost to distraction ? Consider who it was that spread thy table in that wilderness of thought !— w ho it was that made thy cup to overflow 1—w ho added a friend of consolation to thee, and thereby spake peace to thy troubled mind !—Hast thou ever sustained any considerable damage in thy stock or trade ? Bethink thyself who it was that gave thee a serene and contented mind under those losses.—If thou hast recovered, consider who it was that re¬ paired those breaches when thy own skill and en¬ deavours failed I-—call to mind \vhose providence has blessed them since,—whose hand it was that has since set a hedge about thee, and made all that thou hast done to prosper 1—Hast thou ever been wound¬ ed in thy more tender part, through the loss of an obliging husband ?—or hast thou been torn away from the embraces of a dear and promising child, by his unexpected death ? O consider, whether the God of truth did not ap¬ prove himself a father to thee when fatherless I— or a husband to thee when a widow i—and has either given thee a name better than of sons and daughters, or even beyond thy hope, made thy re¬ maining tender branches to grow up tall and beauti¬ ful, like the cedars of Libanus l Strengthened by these considerations, suggesting the same or like past deliverances, either to thyself, thy friends, or acquaintance, thou wilt learn this great lesson in the text, in all thy exigencies and distresses,—to trust God ; and whatever befalls thee in the many changes and chances of this mor- 146 SERMON XXXIV. tal life, to speak comfort to thy soul, and to say, it» the words of Habakkuk the prophet, with which I conclude,— u Although the fig-tree shall not blossom, neither “ shall fruit be in the vines j—although the labour <( of the olive shall fail, and the fields shall yield no “ meat;—although the flock shall be cut off from “ the fold, and there shall be no herd in the stalls,— “ yet we will rejoice in the Lord, and joy in the God of our salvation !** To whom be all honour and glory, now and for¬ ever. Amen. SERMON XXXY. AGAINST THE CRIME OF MURDER. EXODUS XXI. 14. But if a man come presumptuously upon his neighbour, to slay hit* with guile,—thou shalt take him from my altar, that he may die As the end and happy result of society was our mutual protection from the depredations which mal¬ ice and avarice lay us open to,—so have the laws of God laid proportionable restraints against such vio¬ lations as would defeat us of such a security.—Of all other attacks which can be made against us, that of a man’s life, which is his all, being the greatest, —the offence, in God’s dispensation to the Jews, was denounced as the most heinous,—and represented as most unpardonable.—« At the hand of every u man’s brother will I require the life of man.— “ Whoso sheddeth man’s blood, by man shall his “ blood be shed.—Ye shall take no satisfaction for “ the life of a murderer ;—he shall surely be put to “ death.—So ye shall not pollute the land wherein “ ye are,—for blood defileth the land ;—and the land u cannot be cleansed of blood that is shed therein, “ but by the blood of him that shed it.”—For this reason, by the laws of all civilized nations, in all parts of the globe, it has been punished with death. Some civilized and wise communities have so far incorporated these severe dispensations into their municipal laws, as to allow of no distinction betwixt 148 SERMON XXXV. murder and homicide,—at least, in the penalty;— leaving the intentions of the several parties concern¬ ed in it to that Being who knows the heart, and will adjust the differences of the case hereafter.—This falls, no doubt, heavy upon particulars;—but it is urged for the benefit of the whole.—It is not the business of a preacher to enter into an examination of the grounds and reasons for so seeming a severi¬ ty.—Where most severe,—they have proceeded, no doubt, from an excess of abhorrence of a crime,— which is, of all others, most terrible and shocking in its own nature,—and the most direct attack and stroke at society,—as the security of a man’s life was the first protection of society,—the ground-work of all the other blessings to be desired from such a compact.—Thefts,—oppressions,—exactions,—and violences of that kind, cut off the branches ;—this smote the root;—all perished with it:—the injury irreparable :■—no after-act could make amends for it —What recompense can he give to a man in ex¬ change for his life ?—What satisfaction to the vvidr ow,—the fatherless,—to the family,—the friends,— the relations,—cut off from his protection,—and rendered, perhaps, destitute !—perhaps miserable forever I No wonder that, by the law of nature,—this crime was always pursued with the most extreme ven¬ geance ;—which made the barbarians to judge, when they saw St. Paul upon the point of dying a sudden and terrifying death,— “No doubt, this man is a “ murderer ; who, though he has escaped the sea> u yet vengeance suffereth not to live.” The censure there was rash and uncharitable; but the honest detestation of the crime was upper- SERMON XXXY. 149 most. —They saw a dreadful punishment,—they thought;—and in seeing the one, they suspected the other :— and the vengeance which had overtaken the holy man, was meant by them the vengeance and punishment of the Almighty Being, whose provi¬ dence and honour was concerned in pursuing him from the place he had fled from to that island. The honour and authority of God is most evident¬ ly struck at, most certainly, in every such crime,— and, therefore, he would pursue it ;—it being the reason (in the ninth of Genesis) upon which the pro¬ hibition of murder is grounded;—for “ in the image “ of God created he man :**—as if to attempt the life of a man had something in it peculiarly daring and audacious ;—not only shocking as to its consequence above all other crimes,—but of personal violence and indignity against God, the author of our life and death.— That it is the highest act of injustice to man, and which will admit of no compensation,*—I have said. —But the depriving a man of life, does not comprehend the whole of his suffering ; he may be cut off in an unprovided or disordered condition, with regard to the great account betwixt himself and his Maker :—he may be under the power of ir¬ regular passions and desires. —The best of men are not always upon their guard :—and 1 am sure we have all reason to join in that affecting part of our litany,— l liat, amongst other evils,—God would de¬ liver us from sudden death ;—that we may have some foresight of that period, to compose our spirits, — prepare our accounts,—and put ourselves m the best posture we can to meet it; for, after we are most prepared,—it is a terror to human nature ! 150 SERMON" XXXV. The people of some nations are said to have a peculiar art in poisoning, by slow and gradual ad¬ vances.—In this case,—however horrid,—it savours of mercy with regard to our spiritual state;—for the sensible decays of nature, which a sufferer must feel within him from the secret workings of the horrid drug,-—give warning, and shew that mercy which the bloody hand that comes upon his neighbour sud¬ denly, and slays him with guile,—has denied him.— It may serve to admonish him of the duty of repent¬ ance, and to make his peace with God whilst he had time and opportunity.—The speedy execution of justice, which, as our laws now stand, and which were intended for that end,—must strike the greater terror upon that account.—Short as the interval be¬ tween sentence and death is,—it is long, compared to the case of the murdered.—Thou allowedst the man no time,—said the judge to a late criminal, in a most affecting manner ;—thou allowedst him not a moment to prepare for eternity !—and to one who thinks at all,—it is, of all reflections and self-accu¬ sations, the most heavy and unsurmountable,—That, by the hand of violence, a man in a perfect state of health,—whilst he walks out in perfect security, as he thinks, with his friends ;—perhaps whilst he is sleeping soundly,—to be hurried out of the world by the assassin I——by a sudden stroke,—to find himself at the bar of God’s justice, without notice and pre¬ paration for his trial !—’tis most horrible I Though he be really a good man (and, it is to be hoped, God makes merciful allowances in such cases)—yet it is a terrifying consideration at the best;—and, as the injury is greater,—there are also very aggravating circumstances relating to the per* SERMON XXXV. 151 sen who commits this act;—as when it is the effect not of a rash and sudden passion, which sometimes disorders and confounds reason for a moment,-—but of a deliberate and propense design or malice.— When the sun not only goes down, but rises upon his wrath ;—when he sleeps not till he has struck the stroke !—when, after he has had time and leisure to recollect himself,—and consider what he is going to do ;—when, after all the checks of conscience,— the struggles of humanity,—the recoilings of his own blood at the thoughts of shedding another man’s,— he shall persist still,—and resolve to do it!—Merci¬ ful God ! protect us from doing or suffering such evils !— Blessed be thy name and providence, which seldom or ever suffers it to escape with impunity i —In vain does the guilty flatter himself with hopes of secrecy or impunity : the eye of God is always upon him.—Whither can he fly from his presence i —-By the immensity of his nature, he is present in all places 1— by the infinity of it, to all times !—by his omniscience, to all thoughts, words, and actions of men !—By an emphatical phrase in scripture, the blood of the innocent is said to cry to heaven from the ground for vengeance ;—and it was for this rea¬ son,— that he might be brought to justice,—that he was debarred the benefit of any asylum and the cities of refuge :—for the elders of his city shall send and fetch him thence, and deliver him into the hand of the avenger of blood ;—and their eye should not pity him. The text says,— “ Thou shalt take him from my “ altar, that he may die. 5 ’—It had been a very an¬ cient imagination, that for men guilty of this and other horrid crimes,—a place held sacred, as dedi* 152 SERMON XXXV. cated to God, was a refuge and protection to them from the hands of justice.—The law of God cuts the transgressor -»ff from all delusive hopes of this kind; —and I think the Romish church has very little to boast of in the sanctuaries which she leaves open for this and other crimes and irregularities sanctua- ries which are often the first temptations to wicked¬ ness, and therefore bring the greater scandal and dishonour to her that authorizes her pretensions. Every obstruction of the course of justice—is a door opened to betray society, and bereave us of those blessings which it has in view.—To stand up for the privileges of such places, is to invite men to sin with a bribe of impunity.—It is a strange way of doing honour to God, to screen actions which are a disgrace to humanity ! What scripture and all civilized nations teach concerning the crime of taking away another man’s life,—is applicable to the wickedness of a man’s attempting to bereave himself of his own.—He has no more right over it, than over that of others:— and whatever false glosses have been put upon it by men of bad heads or bad hearts,—it is at the bottom a complication of cowardice, and wickedness, and weakness ;—is one of the fatalest mistakes desper¬ ation can hurry a man into ;—inconsistent with all the reasoning and religion of the world, and irrecon- cileable with that patience under afflictions,—that resignation and submission to the will of God in all straits which is required of us.—But if our calami¬ ties are brought upon ourselves by a man’s own wickedness,—still has he less to urge,—least reason has he to renounce the protection of God,—when he most stands in need of it, and of his mercy. SERMON XXXV. 1 S3 But as I intend the subject of self-murder for my discourse next Sunday,—I shall not anticipate what I have to say, but proceed to consider some other cases, in which the law relating to the life of our neighbour is transgressed in different degrees :— all which are generally spoken of under the subject of murder,—and considered by the best casuists as a species of the same,—and, in justice to the subject, cannot be passed here. St. John says, u Whosoever hateth his brother is “ a murderer it is the first step to this sin and our Saviour, in his. sermon upon the Mount, has explained in how many slighter and unsuspected ways and degrees—the command in the law,— «* Thou shalt do no murder,” may be opposed, if not broken.—All real mischiefs and injuries maliciously brought upon a man, to the sorrow and disturbance of his mind,—eating out the comfort of his life, and shortening his days, are this sin in disguise ;—and the grounds of the Scripture expressing it with such severity, is,—that the beginnings of wrath and mal¬ ice,—in event, often extend to such great and unfore¬ seen effects, as, were we foretold them, we should give so little credit to, as to say,— “ Is thy servant “ a dog, that he should do this thing ?”—And though these beginnings do not necessarily produce the worst (Got! forbid they should 1) yet they cannot be committed without these evil seeds are first sown : —as Cain’s causeless anger (as Dr. Clark observes) against his brother,—to which the apostle alludes,_ ended in taking away his life ;—and the best instruc¬ tors teach us, that, to avoid a sin,—we must avoid the steps and temptations which lead to it. SERMON XXXV. 154 This should warn to free our minds from all tincture of avarice, and desire after what is another man’s.—It operates the same way,—and has termin¬ ated too oft in the same crime ;—and it is the great excellency of the Christian religion,—that it has an ■■■ eye to this in the stress laid upon the first springs of evils in the heart; rendering us accountable, \ not only for our words—but the thoughts themselves, —if not checked in time, but suffered to proceed further than the first motions of concupiscence. * “ Ye have heard, therefore (says our Saviour)that ? “ it was said by them of old time,—Thou shaltnot j “ kill ;—but I say unto you,—whosoever is angry a with his brother without a cause, shall be in danger “ of the judgment;—and whosoever shall say to his “ brother, Raca,—shall be in danger of the council: “ —but whosoever shall say, thou fool,—shall be in “ danger of hell-fire.” The interpretation of which I shall give you in the words of a great scripturistj Dr. Clark,—and is as follows:—That the three gradations of crimes are an allusion to the three different degrees of punishment, in the three courts of judicature amongst the Jews ;—and our Saviour’s meaning was, That every degree of sin, from its first conception to its outrage,— every degree of malice and hatred, shall receive from God a punish¬ ment proportionable to the offence.— Whereas the old law, according to the Jewish interpretation, extended not to these things at all,— forbade only murder and outward injuries “ Whosoever shall “ say, thou fool, shall be in danger of hell-fire.”— The sense which is, not that, in the strict and literal acceptation, every rash and passionate expression shall be punished with eternal damnation—(for wh® SERMON XXXV. 155 then would be saved ?)—'but that at the exact account in the judgment of the great day, every secret thought and intent of the heart shall have its just estimation and weight in the degrees of punishment which shall be assigned to every one in his final state. There is another species of this crime which is seldom taken notice of in discourses upon the sub¬ ject, and yet can be reduced to no other class - and that is, where the life of our neighbour is short¬ ened,—and often taken away as directly as by a weapon, by the empirical sale of nostrums and quack medicines,—which ignorance and avarice blend.— The loud tongue of ignoranee impudently promises much,—and the ear of the sick is open ;—and as many of these pretenders deal in edge-tools, too ma¬ ny, I fear, perish with the misapplication of them. So great are the difficulties of tracing out the hid¬ den causes of the evils to which this frame of ours are subject,—that the most candid of the profession have ever allowed and lamented how unavoidably they are in the dark so that the best medicines, administered with the wisest heads,—shall often do the mischief they were intended to prevent.—These are misfortunes to which we are subject in this state of darkness ;—but when men, without skill,—with¬ out education,—without knowledge either of the dis¬ temper, or even of what they sell,—make merchan¬ dize of tire miserable,—and, from a dishonest prin¬ ciple, trifle with the pains of the unfortunate,—too often with their lives ; and from the mere motive of a dishonest gain,—every such instance of a person bereft of life by the hand of ignorance, can be con¬ sidered in no other light than a branch of the same root,—it is murder in the true sense }—which, SERMON XXXV. 156 though not cognizable by our laws,—by the laws of right, every man’s own mind and conscience must appear equally black and detestable. In doing what is wrong, we stand chargeable with all the bad consequences which arise from the ac- tion, whether foreseen or not :—and as the princi¬ pal view of the empirick,in those cases, is not what he always pretends,—the good of the publick,—but the good of himself,—it makes the action what it is. Under this head it may not be improper to com¬ prehend all adulterations of medicines, wilfully made worse through avarice.—If a life is lost by such wilful adulterations,—and it may be affirmed, that, in many critical turns of an acute distemper, there is but a single cast left for the patient,—the trial and chance of a single drug in his behalf; and if that has wilfully been adulterated, and wilfully despoiled of its best virtues,—what will the vender answer ? May God grant we may all answer well for our¬ selves, that we may be finally happy ! Amen. SEkMON XXXVI. SANCTITY OF THE APOSTLES. MATTHEW XL 6. Blessed is he that shall not he offended in me. The general prejudices of the Jewish nation con¬ cerning the royal state and condition of the Saviour, who was to come into the world,— was lt a stone of “ stumbling, and a rock of offence,” to the greatest part of that unhappy and prepossessed people, when the promise was actually fulfilled.—Whether it was altogether the traditions of their fathers,—or that the rapturous expressions of their prophets, which re¬ presented the Messiah’s spiritual kingdom in such extent of power and dominion, misled them into it; —or that their own carnal expectations turned wil¬ ful interpreters upon them, inclining them to look for nothing but the wealth and worldly grandeur which were to be acquired under their deliverer whether these,—or that the system of temporal blessings helped to cherish them in this gross and covetous expectation,—it was one of the great causes for their rejecting him.— ut rigorous slavery, made still worse by the tortures of unnecessary mortifications.—I say unnecessary > —because, where there is a virtuous and good end proposed from any sober instances of self-denial and mortification,— God forbid we should call them unnecessary, or that we should dispute against a thing—from the abuse to which it has been put :—and, therefore, what is said in general upon this head, will be understood to reach no farther than where the practice is be¬ come a mixture of fraud and tyranny, but will no¬ wise be interpreted to extend to those self-denials which the discipline of our holy church directs at this solemn season ; which have been introduced by reason and good sense at first, and have since been applied, to serve no purposes but those of religion ; SERMON XXXVII. 173 —these, by restraining our appetites for a while, and withdrawing our thoughts from grosser objects, —do, by a mechanical effect, dispose us for cool and sober reflections, incline us to turn our eyes in¬ wards upon oursel ves, and consider what we are,— and what we have been doing ;—for what intent we were sent into the world, and what kind of charac¬ ters we were designed to act in it. It is necessary that the mind of man, at some cer¬ tain periods, should be prepared to enter into this account; and without some such discipline, to check the insolence of unrestrained appetites, and call home the conscience,—the soul of man, capable as it is of brightness and perfection, would sink down to the lowest depths of darkness and brutality.— However true this is, there still appears no obliga¬ tion to renounce the innocent delights of our beings, or to affect a sullen distate against them :—nor, in truth, can even the supposition of it be well admit¬ ted ;—for pleasures arising from the free and natu¬ ral exercises of the faculties of the mind and body, to talk them down, is like talking against the frame and mechanism of human nature ; and would be no less senseless than the disputing against the burn¬ ing of fire, or failing downwards of a stone.—Be¬ sides this, man is so contrived, that he stands in need of frequent repairs :—both mind and body are apt to sink and grow inactive under long and close attention;—and, therefore, must be restored by prop¬ er recruits.—Some part of our time may doubtless innocently and lawfully be employed in actions merely diverting;—and, whenever such indulgen¬ ces become criminal, it is seldom the nature of the 174 SERMON XXXVII. actions themselves, but the excess which makes them so. But some one may here ask,—By what rule are we to judge of excess in these cases ?—If the enjoy¬ ment of the same sort of pleasures may be either in¬ nocent or guilty, according to the use or abuse of them,—how shall we be certified where the boun¬ daries lie ? or be speculative enough to know how far we may go with safety ?—I answer, There are very few who are not casuists enough to make a right judgment in this point ;—for since one principal reason why God may be supposed to allow pleasure in this world, seems to be for the refreshment and recruit of our souls and bodies, which, like clocks, must be wound up at certain intervals,—every man understands so much of the frame and mechanism of himself, to know how and when to unbend himself with such relaxations as are necessary to regain his natural vigour and cheerfulness ; without which it is impossible he should either be in a disposition or capacity to discharge the several duties of his life. —Here then the partition becomes visible. Whenever we pay this tribute to our appetites any further than is sufficient for the purposes for which they were first granted,—the action propor- tionably loses some share of its innocence.—The surplusage of what is unnecessarily spent on such occasions, is so much of the little portion of our time negligently squandered, which, in prudence, we should apply better ; because it was allotted us for more important uses ; and a different account will be required of it at our hands hereafter. For this reason, does it not evidently follow,— that many actions and pursuits, which are irrc- SERMON XXXVII. 175 proachable in their own natures, may be rendered blameable and vitious, from this single considera¬ tion, 44 That they have made-us wasteful of the mo¬ ments of this short and uncertain fragment of life, which should be almost one of our last prodigali¬ ties, since, of them all, the least retrievable.”—Yet how often is diversion, instead of amusement and relaxation, made the art and business of life itself ! —Look round,—what policy and contrivance is ev¬ ery day put in practice, for pre-engaging every day in the week, and parcelling out every hour of the day for one idleness or another,—for doing nothing, —or something worse than nothing ;—and that with so much ingenuity, as scarce to leave a minute up¬ on their hands to reproach them !—Though we all complain of the shortness of life, yet how many peo¬ ple seem quite overstocked with the days and hours of it, and are continually sending out into the high¬ ways and streets of the city for guests to come and take it off their hands !—If some of the more dis¬ tressful objects of this kind were to sit down and write a bill of their time, though partial as that of the unjust steward,—when they found, in reality, that the whole sum of it, for many years, amounted to little more than this,—That they had rose up to eat,—to drink,—to play,—and had lain down again, merely because they were fit for nothing else ;— when they looked back and beheld this fair space, capable of such heavenly improvements,—all scrawl¬ ed over and defaced with a succession of so many unmeaning cyphers,—good God,—.how would they be ashamed and confounded at the account! With what reflections will they be able to support themselves in the decline of a life so miserably cast 176 SERMON XXXVII. away,—should it happen, as it sometimes docs,— that they have stood idle even unto the eleventh hour !—We have not always power, and are not al¬ ways in a temper, to impose upon ourselves.—When the edge of appetite is worn down, and the spirits of youthful days are cooled, which hurried us on in a circle of pleasure and impertinence,—then reason and reflection will have the weight which they de¬ serve ;—afflictions, or the bed of sickness, will sup¬ ply the place of conscience ;—and, if they should fail,—old age will overtake us at last,—and shew us the past pursuits of life,—and force us to look upon them in their true point of view.—If there is any thing more to cast a cloud upon so melancholy a prospect as this shews us,—it is surely the diffi¬ culty and hazard of having all the work of the day to perform in the last hour ;—of making an atone¬ ment to God, when we have no sacrifice to offer him but the dregs and infirmities of those days, when we could have no pleasure in them. How far God may be pleased to accept such late and imperfect services, is beyond the intention of this discourse.—Whatever stress some may layup- on it,—a death-bed repentance is but a weak and slender plank to trust our all upon.—Such as it is; —to that,—and God’s infinite mercies, we commit them, who will not employ that time and opportuni¬ ty he has given to provide a better security. That we may all make a right use of the time al¬ lotted us,—God grant, through the merits of Ids Son Jesus Christ. Amen. SERMON XXXVIII. ON ENTHUSIASM. ST. 70HN XV. 5. For without me, ye can do nothing. Our Saviour, in the former part of the verse, hav¬ ing told his disciples,—That he was the vine, and that they were only branches ;—intimating in what a degree their good fruits, as well as the success of all their endeavours, were to depend upon his com¬ munications with them,—-he closes the illustration with the inference from it, in the words of the text, — “ For without me, ye can do nothing.”—In the 11th chapter to the Romans, where the manner is explained in which a Christian stands by faith,— there is a like illustration made use of, and probably with an eye to this,—where St. Paul instructs us,— that a good man stands as the branch of a wild olive does when it is grafted into a good olive-tree ;—and that is,—-it flourishes not through its own virtue, but in virtue of the root,-—and such a root as is natural¬ ly not its own. It is very remarkable in that passage,—that the apostle calls a bad man a wild olive-tree ;—not bare¬ ly a branch (as in the other case) but a tree which, having a root of its own, supports itself, and stands in its own strength, and brings forth its own fruit— And so does every bad man, in respect of the wild 178 SERMON XXXVIII. and sour fruit of a vitious and corrupt heart—Ac¬ cording to the resemblance,—if the apostle intended it,—he is a tree,—has a root of his own,—and fruit¬ fulness, such as it is, with a power to bring it forth without help. But in respect of religion, and the moral improvements of virtue and goodness,—the apostle calls us, and reason tells us, we are no more than a branch ; and all our fruitfulness, and all our support,—depend so much upon the influence and communications of God,—that without him we can do nothing,—as our Saviour declares in the text.— There is scarce any point in our religion wherein men have run into such violent extremes as in the senses given to this, and such like declarations in scripture,—of our sufficiency being of God ;—some understanding them so, as to leave no meaning at all in them ;—others,—too much :—the one inter¬ preting the gifts and influences of the Spirit, so as to destroy the truth of all such promises and declara¬ tions in the gospel the other carrying their no¬ tions of them so high, as to destroy the reason of the gospel itself,—and render the Christian religion, which consists of sober and consistent doctrines,— the most intoxicated,—the most wild and unintelligi¬ ble institution that ever was in the world. This being premised, I know not how I can more seasonably engage your attention this day, than by a short examination of each of these errors ;—in doing which, as I shall take some pains to reduce both the extremes of them to reason,—it will necessarily lead me, at the same time, to mark the safe and true doctrine of our church, concerning the promised in¬ fluences and operations of the spirit of God upon our hearts;—which, however depreciated through the SERMON XXXVIII. 179 first mistake,—-or boasted of beyond measure through the second,—must nevertheless be so lim¬ ited and understood,—as, on one hand, to make the gospel of Christ consistent with itself; and, on the other, to make it consistent with reason and com¬ mon sense. If we consider the many express declarations, wherein our Saviour tells his followers, before his crucifixion,—That God would send his Spirit the Comforter amongst them, to supply his place in their hearts ;—and, as in the text,—That without him> they could “ do nothing —if we conceive them as spoken to his disciples, with an immediate view to the emergencies they were under, from their natur¬ al incapacities of finishing the great work he had left them, and building upon that large foundation he had laid,—without some extraordinary help and guidance to carry them through,—no one can dis¬ pute that evidence and confirmation which was af¬ terwards giveh of its truth ;—as our Lord’s disciples were illiterate men, consequently unskilled in the arts and acquired ways of persuasion.—Unless this want had been supplied,—the first obstacle to their labours must have discouraged and put an end to them forever.—As they had no language but their own, without the gift of tongues, they could not have preached the gospel, except in Judea;—and as they had no authority of their own,—without the super¬ natural one of signs and wonders,—they could not vouch for the truth of it beyond the limits where it was first transacted.—In this work, doubtless, all their sufficiency and power of acting was immedi¬ ately from God ;—his Holy Spirit, as he had promis¬ ed them, so it gave them a mouth and wisdom which ISO SERMON XXXVIII. all their adversaries were not able to gainsay or re* sist;—so that without him,—without these extraor¬ dinary gifts, in the most literal sense of the words, they could do nothing.—But besides this application of the text to those particular persons and times, w hen God’s spirit was poured down in that signal manner, held sacred to this day,—there is something in them to be extended further, which Christians of all ages,—and, I hope, of all denominations, have still a claim and trust in,—and that is, the ordinary assistance and influences of the spirit of God in our hearts, for moral and virtuous improvements;— these, both in their natures as well as intentions, be* ing altogether different from the others abovemen- tioned, conferred upon the disciples of our Lord.— The one were miraculous gifts,—in which the en¬ dowed person contributed nothing which advanced human nature above itself, and raised all its projec¬ tile springs above their fountains ; enabling them to speak and act such things, and in such manner, as was impossible for men not inspired and preternat* urally upheld.—In the other case, the helps spoken of were the influence of God’s spirit, which upheld us from falling below the dignity of our nature:— that divine assistance which graciously kept us from falling, and enabled us to perform the holy profes¬ sions of our religion—Though these are equally called spiritual gifts, they are not, as in the first case, the entire works of the Spirit,—but the calm co-op¬ erations of it with our own endeavours ; and are ordi¬ narily what every sincere and well-disposed Chris¬ tian has reason to pray for and expect from the same fountain of strength,—who has promised to give hi* Holy Spirit to them that asked it. SERMON XXXVIII. 181 From this point, which is the true doctrine of our church, the two parties begin to divide both from it and each other ;—each of them equally misapplying these passages of scripture, and wresting them to extremes equally pernicious. To begin with the first;—Of whom should you inquire the explanation and meaning of this or of other texts,—wherein the assistance of God’s grace and Holy Spirit is implied as necessary to sanctify our nature, and enable us to serve and please God ? —They will answer,—That no doubt all our parts and abilities are the gifts of God ;—who is the orig¬ inal author of our nature,—and, of consequence, of all that belongs thereto.—That as by “ him we live, “ and move, and have our being,”—we must in course depend upon him for all our actions whatso¬ ever,—since we must depend upon him even for our life, and for every moment of its continuance.-—That from this view of our state and natural dependence, it is certain, they will say,—We can do nothing with¬ out his help.—But then they will add,—That it con¬ cerns us no farther as Christians than as we are men ; —the sanctity of our lives, the religious habits and improvements of our hearts, in no other sense de¬ pending upon God than the most indifferent of our actions, or the natural exercise of any of the other powers he has given us.—Agreeably with this, that the spiritual gifts spoken of in scripture, are to be understood by way of accommodation, to signify the natural or acquired gifts of a man’s mind,—such as memory, fancy, wit, and eloquence ; which, in a strict and philosophical sense, may be called spirit¬ ual ;—because they transcend the mechanical pow- VOL. v. i 182 SERMON XXXVIII. ers of matter,—and proceed more or less from the rational soul, which is a spiritual substance. Whether these ought, in propriety, to be called spiritual gifts, I shall not contend, as it seems a mere dispute about words ;—but it is enough that the interpretation cuts the knot, instead of untying it ; and, besides, explains away all kind of meaning in the above promises :—and the error of them seems to arise, in the first place, from not distin¬ guishing that these spiritual gifts,—if they must be called so ;—such as memory, fancy, wit,—and other endowments of the mind, which are known by the name of natural parts, belong merely to us as men ; and whether the different degrees, by which we ex¬ cel each other in them, arise from a natural differ¬ ence of our souls,—or a happier disposition of the organical parts of us.—They are such, however, as God originally bestows upon us ; and with which, in a great measure, we are sent into the world. But the moral gifts of the Holy Ghost, which are more commonly called the fruits of the Spirit, cannot be confined within this description.—We come not into the world equipt with virtues as we do with talents; —if we did, we should come into the world with that which robbed virtue of its best title, both to present commendation and future reward.—The gift of continency depends not, as these affirm, upon a mere coldness of the constitution,—or patience ami humility from an insensibility of it ;—but they are virtues insensibly wrought in us by the endeavours of our ow n wills and concurrent influences of a gra¬ cious agent !—and the religious improvements aris¬ ing from thence, are so far from being the effects of nature, and a fit disposition of the several parts and SERMON XXXVIII. 1S3 erganical powers given us, that the contrary is true ; —namely, that the stream of our affections and ap¬ petites but too naturally carries us the other way : —for this, let any man lay his hand upon his heart and reflect what has passed within him in the sever¬ al conflicts of meekness,—temperance,—chastity,— and other self-denials,—and he will need no better argument for his conviction. This hint leads to the true answer to the above misrepresentation of the text,—That we depend upon God in no other sense for our virtues, than we necessarily do for every thing else ; and that the fruits of the spirit are merely the determinations and efforts of our own reason,—and as much our own accomplishments as any other improvements are the effect of our own diligence and industry. This account, by the way, is opposite to the apos¬ tle’s, who tells us,—“ It is God that worketh in us u both to will and to do, of his good pleasure.”—It is true, though we are born ignorant, we can make our¬ selves skilful;—we can acquire arts and sciences by our own application and study.—But the case is not the same in respect of goodness.—We can acquire arts and sciences, because we lie under no natural indisposition or backwardness to that acquirement: —for nature, though it be corrupt, yet still it is cu¬ rious and busy after knowledge.'—But it does not ap¬ pear that to goodness and sanctity of manners we have the same natural propensity.—Lusts within, and temptations without, set up so strong a confeder¬ acy against it, as we are never able to surmount by our own strength.—However firmly we may think we stand, the best of us are but upheld, and gra¬ ciously kept upright ; and whenever this divine as- 184 SERMON XXXVIII. sistance is withdrawn, or suspended,—all history, especially the sacred, is full of melancholy instan¬ ces of what man is when God leaves him to himself, —that he is even a thing of nought. Whether it was from a conscious experience of this truth in themselves,—or some traditions handed from the scripture-account of it;—or that it was, in some measure, deducible from the principles of rea¬ son ;—in the writings of some of the wisest of the heathen philosophers, we find the strongest traces of the persuasion of God’s assisting* men to virtue and probity of manners.—One of the greatest mas¬ ters of reasoning amongst the antients, acknowl¬ edges, that nothing great and exalted can be achiev¬ ed, sine divino afflatu ; —and Seneca, to the same purpose, Nulla mens bona sine Deo ;—that no soul can be good without divine assistance—Now what¬ ever comments may be put upon such passages in their writings,—it is certain, those in scripture can receive no other, to be consistent with themselves, than what has been given :—and though, in vindica¬ tion of human liberty, it is as certain on the other hand,—that education, precepts, examples, pious inclinations, and practical diligence, are great and meritorious advances towards a religious state,— yet the state itself is got and finished by God’s grace; and the concurrence of his spirit upon tempers thus happily pre-disposed, and honestly making use of such fit means :—and unless thus much is understood from them,—-the several expressions in scripture) where the offices of the Holy Ghost, conducive to this end, are enumerated— (such as cleansing, guiding, renewing, comforting, strengthening, and establish¬ ing us) are a set of unintelligible words, which may SERMON XXXVIII. 185 amuse, but can convey little light to the understand¬ ing. This is all I have time left to say at present upon the first error of those, who, by too loose an interpre¬ tation of the gifts and fruits of the spirit, explain away the whole sense and meaning of them, and thereby render not only the promises, but the com¬ forts of them too of none effect :—concerning which error, I have only to add this, by way of extenuation of it,—That I believe the great and unedifying rout made about sanctification and regeneration in the middle of the last century,—and the enthusiastick extravagances into which the communications of the spirit have been carried by so many deluded or deluding people in this, are two of the great causes which have driven many a sober man into the oppo¬ site extreme, against which I have argued.—Now, if the dread of savouring too much of religion in their interpretations, has done this ill service,—let us inquire, on the other hand, Whether the affectation of too much religion, in the other extreme, has not not misled others full as far from truth, and farther from the reason and sobriety of the gospel, than the first ? I have already proved, by scripture-arguments, that the influence of the Holy Spirit of God is neces¬ sary to render the imperfect sacrifice of our obedi¬ ence pleasing to our Maker.—He hath promised to “ perfect his strength in our weakness.”—With this assurance we ought to be satisfied -especially since our Saviour has thought proper to mortify all scru¬ pulous inquiries into operations of this kind, by comparing them to the wind, “ which bloweth where il it listeth ; and thou hearest the sound thereof, but .186 SERMON XXXVIII. a canst not tell whence it cometh, or whither it “ goeth ;—so is every one that is born of the spirit.” —Let humble gratitude acknowledge the effect, unprompted by an idle curiosity to explain the eause. We are told, without this assistance, we can do nothing ;—we are told, from the same authority, we can do all, through Christ that strengthens us.—We are commanded to “ work out our own salvation t( with fear and trembling.” The reason immediate¬ ly follows : “For it is God that worketh in you, both “ to will and to do, of his own good pleasure.”— From these, and many other repeated passages, it is evident that the assistances of grace were not intend¬ ed to destroy, but to co-operate with the endeavours of man,—and are derived from God in the same manner as all natural powers :—indeed, without this interpretation, How could the Almighty ad¬ dress himself to man as a rational being !—How could his actions be his own !—-How could he be considered as a blameable or rewardable creature ! From this account of the consistent opinions of a sober-minded Christian, let us take a view of the mistaken enthusiast:—See him ostentatiously cloth¬ ed with the outward garb of sanctity, to attract the eyes of the vulgar !—See a cheerful demeanour, the natural result of an easy and self-applauding heart, studiously avoided as criminal.—See his coun¬ tenance overspread with a melancholy gloom and despondence, as if religion, which is evidently calculated to make us happy in this life as well as the next, was the parent of sullenness and discontent I —Hear him pouring forth his pharisaicai ejaculations on his journey, or in the streets 1—Hear him boast- SERMON XXXVIII. 1ST ing of extraordinary communications with the God of all knowledge, and, at the same time, offending against the common rules of his own native language* and the plainer dictates of common sense !—Hear him arrogantly thanking his God, that he is not as other men are ! and, with more than papal unchar¬ itableness, very liberally allotting the portion of the damned to every Christian whom he, partial judge, deems less perfect than himself!—to every Chris¬ tian who is walking on in the paths of duty with sober vigilance, aspiring to perfection by pro¬ gressive attainments, and seriously endeavouring* through a rational faith in his Redeemer, to make his calling and election sure ! There have been no se cts in the Christian world, however absurd, which have not endeavoured to support their opinions by arguments drawn from scripture, misinterpreted or misapplied. We had a melancholy instance of this in our country in the last century,—when the church of Christ, as well as the government, during thatperiod of national confusion, was torn asunder into various sects and factions ;—when some men pretended to have scripture-precepts, parables, or prophecies, to plead in favour of the most impious absurdities that falsehood could advance. The same spirit which prevailed amongst the fanaticks, seems to have gone forth amongst these modern enthusiasts_ Faith, the distinguishing characteristick of a Chris¬ tian, is defined by them not as a rational assent of the understanding, to truths which are established by indisputable authority, but as a violent persuasion of mind, that they are instantaneously become the children of God,—that the whole score of their sins ] 88 SERMON XXXVIII. is for ever blotted out, without the payment of one tear of repentance.—Pleasing* doctrine this to the fears and passions of mankind !—promising fair to gain proselytes of the vitious and impenitent! Pardons and indulgences are the great support of papal power ;—but these modern empiricks in reli¬ gion have improved upon the scheme, pretending to have discovered an infallible nostrum for all incur¬ ables ;—such as will preserve them forever !—and, notwithstanding we have instances of notorious of¬ fenders amongst the warmest advocates for sinless perfection,—the charm continues powerful.—Did these visionary notions of an heated imagination* tend only to amuse the fancy, they might be treated with contempt ;—but when they depreciate all moral attainments ;—when the suggestions of a frantick brain are blasphemously ascribed to the holy spirit of God ;—when faith and divine love are placed in opposition to practical virtues, they then become the objects of aversion.—In one sense, in¬ deed, many of these deluded people demand our tenderest compassion,—whose disorder is in the head rather than the heart; and who call for the aid of a physician who can cure the distempered state of the body, rather than one who may sooth the anx¬ ieties of the mind. Indeed, in many cases, they seem so much above the skill of either,—that unless God in his mercy rebuke this spirit of enthusiasm which is gone out amongst us, no one can pretend to say how far it may go, or what mischiefs it may do in these kingdoms.—Al¬ ready it has taught us as much blasphemous lan¬ guage and, if it goes on (by the samples given us in their journals) will fill us with as many legenda- SERMON XXXVIII. 189 ry accounts of visions and revelations, as we have formerly had from the church of Rome :—and, for any security we have against it,-—when time shall serve, it may as effectually convert the professors of it, even into popery itself,—consistent with their own principles ;—for they have nothing more to do, than to say, that the spirit which inspired them, has signified that the Pope is inspired as well as they ; —and consequently, is infallible.—After which, I cannot see how they can possibly refrain going to mass, consistent with their own principles. Thus much for these two opposite errors ;—the examination of which has taken up so much time, —that I have little left to add, but to beg of God, by the assistance of his Holy Spirit, to preserve us equally from both extremes, and enable us to form, such right and worthy apprehensions of our holy religion,—that it may never suffer, through the coolness of our conceptions of it, on one hand,—. or the immoderate heat of them on the otherbut that we may at all times see it as it is, and as it was designed by its blessed Founder, as the most ration¬ al, sober, and consistent institution that could have been given to the sons of men-Now to God, See. SERMON XXXIX. ETERNAL ADVANTAGES OF RELIGION. ECCLESIASTES XII. 13. Let us hear the conclusion of the whole matter,—Fear God, and keep his commandments ; for this is the whole duty of man. The wise man, in the beginning of this book, had proposed it is a grand query to be discussed,—“ To u find out what was good for the sons of men, which- should let his whole life be a contradiction to such obvious reflections. The vanity and emptiness of worldly goods and enjoyments,—the shortness and uncertainty of life, —the unalterable event hanging over our heads,—- u That in a few days, we must all of us go to that “ place from whence we shall not return the cer¬ tainty of this,—the uncertainty of the time when,— the immortality of the soul,—the doubtful and mo¬ mentous issues of eternity,—the terrors of damna¬ tion, and the glorious things which are spoken of the city of God, are meditations so obvious, and so naturally check and block up a man’s way ; are so very interesting, and, above all, so unavoidable, that it is astonishing how it was possible, at any time, for mortal man to have his head full of any thing else !—And yet, was the same person to take a view of the state of the world,—how slight an observa¬ tion would convince him, that the wonder lay, in fact, on the other side ;—and that, as wisely as we all discourse, and philosophize cLe contemjitu mundi & f u S a saculiy —yet, for one who really acts in the world,—consistent with his own reflections upon it, —that there are multitudes who seem to take aim at nothing higher ;—and, as empty a thing as it is, — are so dazzled with it, as to think it meet to build 196 SERMON XXXIX. tabernacles of rest upon it,—and say, “ It is good to “ be here.”—Whether, as an able inquirer into this paradox-guesses ;—whether it is, that men do not heartily believe such a thing as a future state of happiness and misery;—or if they do,—that they do not actually and seriously consider it,—but suffer it to lie dormant and inactive within them, and so are as little affected with it as if, in truth, they believed it not ;—nr whether they look upon through that end of the perspective which represents it as afar off, and so are more forcibly drawn by the nearer, though the lesser, loadstone ?—whether these, or whatever other cause may be assigned for it, the ob- servation is incontestable, That the bulk of man¬ kind, in passing through this vale of misery,—use it not as a well to refresh and allay,—but fully to quench and satisfy their thirst ;—minding or (as the apostle says) relishing earthly things,—making them the end and sum total of their desires and wishes ;—and, in one word,—loving this world— just as they are commanded to love God ;—that is, —,« with all their heart, with all their soul,—with “ all their mind and strength.” But this is not the strangest part of this paradox. A man shall not on¬ ly lean and rest upon the world with his whole stress, but, in many instances, shall live notorious¬ ly bad and vitious ; when he is reproved, he shall seem convinced ; when he is observed, he shall be ashamed ; when he pursues his sin, he will do it in the dark ; and when he has done it, shall even be dissatisfied with himself: yet still, this shall produce no alteration in his conduct. Tell him he shall one day die ; or bring the event still nearer, and shew, that, according to the course of nature, he cannot SERMON XXXIX. 197 possibly live many years, he will sigh, perhaps, and tell you he is convinced of that as much as rea¬ son and experience can make him. Proceed, and urge to him, that after death comes judgment, and that he will certainly there be dealt with by a just God according to his actions,—he will thank God he is no deist, and tell you, with the same grave face, he is thoroughly convinced of that too ; and as he believes, no doubt he trembles too : and yet after all, with all this conviction upon his mind, you will see him still persevere in the same course, and commit his sin with as certain an event and resolu¬ tion, as if he knew no argument against it. These notices of things, however terrible and true, pass through his understanding as an eagle through the air, that leaves no path behind. So that, upon the whole, instead of abounding with occasions to set us seriously on thinking, the world might dispense with many more calls of this kind ; and were they seven times as many as they are, considering what insufficient use we make of those we have, all, I fear, would be little enough to bring these things to our remembrance as often, and engage us to lay them to our hearts with that affectionate concern which the weight and interest of them requires at our hands. Sooner or later, the most inconsiderate of us all shall find, with Solo¬ mon, that to do this effectually, K is the whole duty “ of man.” And I cannot conclude this discourse upon his words better, than with a short and earnest exhor¬ tation, that the solemnity of this season, and the me¬ ditations to which it is devoted, may lead you up to the true knowledge and practice of the same point, 198 SERMON XXXIX. of fearing God and keeping his commandments, and convince you, as it did him, of the indispensable ne¬ cessity of making that the business of a man’s life, which is the chief end of his being, the eternal hap¬ piness and salvation of his soul :— Which may God grant, for the sake of Jesus Christ. Amen. SERMON XL. ASA : A THANKSGIVING SERMON. II CHRONICLES XV. 14. And they swareunto the Lord with a loud voice, and with shouting, and with trumpets, and with cornets.—And all the men of Ju¬ dah rejoiced at the oath. It will be necessary to give a particular account of what was the occasion, as well as the nature of the oath which the men of Judah sware unto the Lord ;—which will explain not only the reasons why it became a matter of so much joy to them, but likewise admit of an application suitable to the pur¬ poses of this solemn assembly. Abijah, and Asa his son, were successive kings of Judah.—The first came to the crown at the close of a long, and, in the end, a very unsuccessful war, which had gradually wasted the strength and riches of his kingdom. He was a prince endowed with the talents which the emergencies of his country required, and seem¬ ed born to make Judah a victorious, as well as a happy people.—The conduct and great success of his arms against Jeroboam, had well established the first ;—but his kingdom, which had been so many years the seat of a war, had been so wasted and be¬ wildered, that his reign, good as it was, was too short to accomplish the latter.—He died, and left the work unfinished for his son.—Asa succeeded, in 200 SERMON XL. the room of Abijah his father, with the truest no¬ tions of religion and government that could be de¬ rived either from reason or experience.—His rea¬ son told him, that God should be worshipped in simplicity and singleness of heart;—therefore he took away the altars of the strange gods, and broke down their images.—His experience told him, that the most successful wavs, instead of invigorating, more generally drained away the vitals of govern¬ ment,—and, at the best, ended but in a brighter and more ostentatious kind of poverty and desolation : ■—therefore he laid aside his sword, and studied the arts of ruling Judah with peace—Conscience would not suffer Asa to sacrifice his subjects to private views of ambition ; and wisdom forbade he should suffer them to offer up themselves to the pretence of publick ones,—since enlargement of empire, by the destruction of its people (the natural and only valuable source of strength and riches) was a dis¬ honest and miserable exchange :—and however well the glory of a conquest might appear in the eyes of a common beholder, yet, when bought at that costly rate, a father to his country would be¬ hold the triumphs which attended it, and weep as it passed by him.—Amidst all the glare and jollity of the day, the parent’s eyes would fix attentively up¬ on his child ;—he would discern him drooping un¬ der the weight of his attire, without strength or vi¬ gour, his former beauty and comeliness gone off he would behold the coat of many colours stained with blood, and cry,—Alas ! they have decked thee with a parent’s pride, but not with a parent’s care and foresight. SERMON XL. 201 With such affectionate sentiments of government, and just principles of religion, Asa began his reign. —A reign marked out with new eras, and a suc¬ cession of happier occurrences than what had dis¬ tinguished former days. The just and gentle spirit of the prince insensi¬ bly stole into the breasts of the people.—The men of Judah turned their swords into ploughshares, and their spears into pruninghooks.—By industry and virtuous labour they acquired what by spoil and rap¬ ine they might have sought after long in vain.— The traces of their late troubles soon began to wear out.—The cities, which had become ruinous and desolate (the prey of famine and the sword) were now rebuilt, fortified, and made populous.—Peace, security, wealth, and prosperity, seemed to com¬ pose the whole history of Asa’s reign.—O Ju¬ dah ! what could then have been done more than what was done to make thy people happy ? What one blessing was withheld, that thou should- est ever withhold thy thankfulness ? That thou didst not continually turn thy eyes to¬ wards heaven with an habitual sense of God’s mer¬ cies, and devoutly praise him for setting Asa over you ? Were not the publick blessings, and the private enjoyments, which every man of Judah derived from them, such as to make the continuance of them de¬ sirable .and what other way was there to effect it, than to swear unto the Lord, with all your hearts and souls, to perform the covenant made with your fathers ?—to secure that favour and interest with the almighty Being, without which the wisdom of this world is foolishness, and the best connected sys- 202 SERMON XL. terns of human policy are speculative and airy pro¬ jects, without foundation or substance.—The histo¬ ry of their own exploits and establishment, since they had become a nation, was a strong confirmation of this doctrine. But too free and uninterrupted a possession of God Almighty’s blessings, sometimes (though it seems strange to suppose it) even tempts men to forget him, either from a certain depravity and in¬ gratitude of nature, not to be wrought upon by good¬ ness,—or that they are made by it too passionately fond of the present hour, and too thoughtless of its great Author, whose kind providence brought it about.—This seemed to have been the case with the men of Judah :—for notwithstanding all that God had done for them, in placing Abijah and Asa his son over them, and inspiring them with hearts and talents proper to retrieve the errors of the fore¬ going reig 4, and bring back peace and plenty to the dwellings of Judah ;—yet there appears no record of any solemn and religious acknowledgment to God for such signal favours. The people sat down in a, thankless security , u each man under his vine, to eat “ and drink, and rose up to play—more solicitous to enjoy their blessings, than to deserve them. But this scene of tranquillity was not to subsist without some change ;—and it seemed as if provi¬ dence at length had suffered the stream to be inter¬ rupted, to make them consider whence it flowed, and how necessary it had been all along to their sup¬ port. The Ethiopians, ever since the beginning of Abijah’s reign, until the tenth year of Asa’s, had been at peace, or, at least, whatever secret enmity they bore, had made no open attacks upon the king- SERMON XL. 203 dom of Judah—And indeed the bad measures which Rehoboam had taken, in the latter part of the reign which immediately preceded theirs, seemed to have saved the Ethiopians the trouble.—For Reho¬ boam, though in the former part of his reign he dealt wisely ; yet, when he had established his king¬ dom, and strengthened himself,—he forsook the laws of the Lord ;—he forsook the counsel which the old men gave him, and took counsel with the young men, which were brought up with him, and stood before him.—Such ill-advised measures, in all probability, had given the enemies of Judah such decisive advantages over her, that they had sat down contented, and for many years enjoyed the fruits of their acquisitions.—But the friendship of princes is seldom made up of better materials than those which are every day to be seen in private life,—in which sincerity and affection are not at all considered as ingredients.—Change of time and circumstances produce a change of councils and behaviour.—Ju¬ dah, in length of time, had become a fresh tempta¬ tion, and was worth fighting for.—Her riches and plenty might first make her enemies covet; and then the remembrance of how cheap and easy a prey she had formerly been, might make them not doubt of obtaining. By these apparent motives (or whether God, who sometimes over-rules the heart of man, was pleased to turn them by secret ones, to the purposes of his wisdom) the ambition of the Ethiopians revived. With an host of men, numerous as the sand upon the sea-shore in multitude,—they had left their country, and were coming forwards to invade them* 204 SERMON XL. —What can Judah propose to do in so terrifying a crisis ?—where can she betake herself for refuge ? —On one hand, her religion and laws are too pre¬ cious to be given up, or trusted to the hands of a stranger ;—and, on the other hand, how can so small a kingdom, just recovering strength, surrounded by an army of a thousand thousand men, besides char¬ iots and horses, be able to withstand so powerful a shock ?—But here it appeared, that those who, in their prosperity, can forget God, do yet remember him in the day of danger and distress ;—and can be¬ gin with comfort to depend upon his providence, when with comfort they can depend upon nothing else :—for when Zerah, the Ethiopian, was come unto the valley of Zephatha at Maretha, Asa, and all the men of Judah and Benjamin, went out against him ;—and as they w r ent, they cried mightily unto God.—And Asa prayed for his people, and he said, — “ O Lord ! it is nothing with thee to help, wheth- “ er with many, or with them that have no power : 11 —help us, O Lord our God ! for we rest in thee, {( and in thy name w r e go against this multitude.— i( O Lord, thou art our God, let not man prevail “ against thee.”—Success almost seemed a debt due to the piety of the prince, and the contrition of his people.—So God smote the Ethiopians, and they could not recover themselves ;—for they were scat¬ tered, and utterly destroyed,—before the Lord, and before his host.—And as they returned to Jerusalem from pursuing,—behold the spirit of God came up¬ on Asariah, the son of Oded.—And he went out to meet Asa, and he said unto him,— “ Hear ye me, “ Asa, and all^Judah and Benjamin ; the Lord is “ with you, whilst you are with him ;—and if you SERMON XL. 20o “ seek him, he will be found of you ; but if ye for- “ sake him, he will forsake you/’—Nothing could more powerfully call home the conscience than so timely an expostulation.—The men of Judah and Benjamin, struck with a sense of their late deliver¬ ance, and the many other felicities they had enjoy¬ ed since Asa was king over them, they gathered themselves together at Jerusalem, in the third month in the fifteenth year of Asa’s reign ;—and they entered into a covenant to seek the Lord God of their fathers with all their heart, and with all their soul :—and they sware unto the Lord with a loud voice, and with shouting, and with trumpets, and with cornets ; and all.Judah rejoiced at the oath. One may observe a kind of luxuriety in the de¬ scription, which the holy historian gives of the trans¬ port of the men of Judah upon this occasion. And sure, if ever matter of joy was so reasonably found¬ ed, as to excuse any excesses in the expressions of it,—this was one ;—for without it,—the condition of Judah, though otherwise the happiest, would have been, of all nations under heaven, the most miser¬ able. Let us suppose a moment, instead of being re¬ pulsed, that the enterprise of the Ethiopians had prospered against them,—like other grievous dis¬ tempers, where the vitals are first attacked,—Asa, their king, would have been sought after, and have been made the first sacrifice.—He must either have fallen by the sword of battle, or execution; or, what is worse, he must have survived the ruin of his country by flight,—and worn out the remainder of his days in sorrow, for the afflictions which were come upon it. In some remote corner of the world? VOL. V. K 206 SERMON XL. the good king would have heard the particulars of Judah’s destruction. He would have been told how the country, which had become dear to him by his paternal care, was now utterly laid waste, and all his labour lost;—how the fences which protected it were torn up, and the tender plant within, which he had so long sheltered, was cruelly trodden under foot and devoured. He would hear how Zerah, the Ethiopian, when he had overthrown the kingdom, thought himself bound in conscience to overthrow the religion of it too, and establish his own idola¬ trous one in its stead:—that, in pursuance of this, the holy religion which Asa had reformed, had be¬ gun everywhere to be evil spoken of, and evil en¬ treated :— That it was first banished from the courts of the king’s house, and the midst of Jerusalem,—and then fled for safety out of the way into the wilderness) and found no city to dwell in :—That Zerah had rebuilt the altars of the strange gods, which Asa’s piety had broken down, and set up their images:— That liis commandment was urgent that all should fall down and worship the idol he had made :—That* to complete the tale of their miseries, there was no prospect of deliverance for any but the worst of his subjects;—those who, in his reign, had either lean¬ ed in their hearts towards these idolatries, or whose principles and morals were such, that all religions suited them alike ;—but that the honest and con¬ scientious men of Judah, unable to behold such abom¬ inations, hung down every man his head like a bul¬ rush, and put sackcloth and ashes under him. This picture of Judah’s desolation might be some resemblance of what every one of Asa’s subjects SERMON XL. 207 Would probably form to himself, the day he solemn¬ ized an exemption from it:—and the transport was natural,-—To swear unto the Lord with a loud voice, and with shouting, and with trumpets, and with cornets ;—to rejoice at the oath which secured their future peace, and celebrate it with all external marks of gladness. I have at length gone through the story, which gave the occasion to this religious act which is re¬ corded of the men of Judah in the text. I believe there is not one in sacred scripture that bids fairer for a parallel to our own times, or that would admit of an application more suitable to the solemnity of this day. But men are apt to be struck with likenesses in so different a manner, from the different points of view in which they stand, as well as their diversity of judgments, that it is generally a very unaccept¬ able piece of officiousness to fix any certain degrees of approach. In this case it seems sufficient, that those who will discern the least resemblance, will discern enough to make them seriously comply with the devotion of the day ; and that those who are affected with it in a stronger manner, and see the blessing of a protestant king in its fairest light, with all the mercies who made way for it, will have still more abundant reason to adore that good Being, who has all along protected it from the enemies which have risen up to do it violence ; but more especially, in a late instance, by turning down the councils of the froward headlong, and confounding the devices of the crafty, so that their hands could not perforin their enterprize, Though this event, for many 208 SERMON XL. reasons, will ever be told amongst the felicities of these days ; yet for none more so, than that it has given us a fresh mark of the continuation of God Almighty’s favour to us :—a part of that great com¬ plicated blessing for which we are gathered togeth¬ er to return him thanks. Let us therefore, I beseech you, endeavour to do it in the way which becomes wise men, and which is likely to be most acceptable ;—and that is,—To pursue the intentions of his providence, in giving us the occasion to become better men, and, by an holy and an honest conversation, make ourselves capable of enjoying what God has done for us. In vain shall we celebrate the day with a loud voice, and with shouting, and with trumpets, if we do not do it likewise with the internal and more certain marks of sincerity, a reformation and purity in our manners. It is impossible a sinful people can either be grateful to God, or properly loyal to their prince. They cannot be grateful to the one, because they live not under a sense of his mercies ; nor can they be loyal to the other, because they daily offend in two of the tenderest points which concern his wel¬ fare ;—by first disengaging the providence of God from taking our part, and then giving a heart to our adversaries to lift their hands against us, who must know, that if we forsake God, God will forsake us. Their hopes, their designs, their wickedness against us, can only be built upon ours towards God. For if they did not think we did evil, they durst not hope we could perish. Cease, therefore, to do evil; for by following righteousness, you will make the hearts of your SERMON XL. 209 enemies faint; they will turn their backs against your indignation,—and their weapons will fall from their hands ;— Which may God grant, through the merits and mediation of his Son Jesus Christ, to whom be all honour, kc. Amen. SERMON XLI. FOLLOW PEACE. IIEK. XII. 14. Follow peace with all men, and holiness ; without which, no man shall see the Lord. The great end and design of our holy religion, next to the main view of reconciling us to God, was to reconcile us to each other ;—by teaching us to subdue all those unfriendly dispositions in our nature which unfit us for happiness, and the social enjoyment of the many blessings which God has enabled us to partake of in this world, miserable as it is in many respects.—Could Christianity per¬ suade the professors of it into this temper, and en¬ gage us, as its doctrine requires, to go on and ex¬ alt our natures, and, after the subduciion of the most unfriendly of our passions, to plant, in the room of them, all those (more natural to the soil) humane and benevolent inclinations, which, in imi¬ tation of the perfections of God, should dispose us to extend our love and goodness to our fellow- creatures, according to the extent of our abilities,— in like manner as the goodness of God extends it¬ self over all the works of the creation ;—could this be accomplished,—the world would be worth living in ; and might be considered by us as a fore¬ taste of what we should enter upon hereafter. But such a system, you’ll say, is merely visiona¬ ry and, considering man as a creature so bese SERMON XU. 211 with selfishness, and other fretful passions that pro¬ pensity prompts him to,— though it is to be wished, it is not to be expected.—But our religion enjoins us to approach as near this fair pattern as we can ; and, if it be possible, as much as lieth in us, to live peaceably with all men where the term, if flos - sible , I own, implies it may not only be difficult, but sometimes impossible.—Thus the words of the text, « Follow peace,” may by some be thought to imply, that this desirable blessing may sometimes fly from us :_but still we are required to follow it,—and not cease the pursuit till we have used all warrantable methods to regain and settle it ; because, adds the apostle, without this frame of mind, u no man shall « see the Lord.” For heaven is the region, as well as the recompense, of peace and benevolence j and such as do not desire and promote it here, are not qualified to enjoy it hereafter. For this cause, in scripture-language,—peace is always spoke of as the great and comprehensive blessing, which included in it all manner of happi¬ ness ;—and to wish peace to any house or person, was, in one word, to wish them all that was good and desirable ;—because happiness consists in the inward complacency and satisfaction of the mind ; and he who has such a disposition of soul, as ac¬ quiesce and rest contented with all the events of Providence, can want nothing this world can give him. Agreeable to this, that short but most com¬ prehensive hymn, sung by angels at our Saviour’s birth, declaratory of the joy and happy ends of his' incarnation,—after glory, in the first, to God j the next note which sounded was, “ Peace upon earth, u and good-will to men it was a publick wish of 212 SERMON XLI. happiness to mankind, and implied a solemn charge to pursue the means that would ever lead to it : and, in truth, the good tidings of the gospel arc nothing else but a grand message and embassy of peace, to let us know that our peace is made in heaven. The prophet Isaiah styles our Saviour the Prince of Peace, long before he came into the world ; and to answer the title, he made choice to enter into it at a time when all nations were at peace with each other ; which was in the days of Augustus, when the temple of Janus was shut, and all the alarms of war were hushed and silenced throughout the world. —At his birth, the host of heaven descended, and proclaimed peace on earth, as the best state and temper the world could be in to receive and wel¬ come the Author of it.—His future conversation and doctrine here upon earth, was every way agree¬ able with his peaceable entrance upon it ; the whole course of his life being but one great example of meekness, peace, and patience. At his death, it was the only legacy he bequeathed to his followers : —My peace I give unto you.”—How far this has taken place, or been actually enjoyed, is not my in¬ tention to enlarge upon, any further than just to ob¬ serve how precious a bequest it was, from the many miseries and calamities which have and ever will ensue, from the want of it.—if we look into the lar¬ ger circle of the world,—what desolations, dissolu¬ tions of government, and invasions of properly !— what rapine, plunder, and profanation of the most sacred rights of mankind, are the certain unhappy effects of it i—fields dyed in blood,—the cries of or¬ phans and widows, bereft of their best help, too ful- SERMON XLI, 213 ly instruct us.—Look into private life,—behold how good and pleasant a thing it is to live together in unity !■—it is like the precious ointment poured up¬ on the head of Aaron, that run down to his skirts ; —importing, that this balm of life is felt and enjoy¬ ed, not only by governors of kingdoms, but is de¬ rived down to the lowest rank of life, and tasted in the most private recesses ;—all, from the king to the peasant, are refreshed with its blessings ; with¬ out which we can find no comfort in any thing this world can give.—It is this blessing gives every one to sit quietly under his vine, and reap the fruits of his labour and industry :—in one word,—which be¬ speaks who is the bestower of it.-—-It is that only which keeps up the harmony and order of the world, and preserves every thing in it from ruin and con¬ fusion. There is one saying of our Saviour’s, recorded by- St. Matthew, which, at first sight, seems to carry- some opposition to this doctrine :—“ I came not to “ send peace on earth, but a sword.”—But this reaches no farther than the bare words, not enter¬ ing so deep as to affect the sense, or imply any con¬ tradiction :—intimating only,—that the preaching of the gospel will prove in the event, through sun¬ dry unhappy causes, such as prejudices, the corrup¬ tion of mens hearts, a passion for idolatry and su¬ perstition, the occasion of much variance and divi¬ sion even amongst nearest relations ;—yea, and oft- times of bodily death, and many calamities and per. seditions, which actually ensued upon the first preachers and followers of it.—Or the words may¬ be understood,—as a beautiful description of the in¬ ward contests and opposition which Christianity 214 SERMON XLI. would occasion in the heart of man,—from its op= positions to the violent passions of our nature,— which would engage us in a perpetual warfare.— This was not only a sword,—a division betwixt near¬ est kindred—but it was dividing a man against him¬ self ;—-setting up an opposition to an interest long established,—strong by nature,—more so by uncon¬ trolled custom.—This is verified every hour in the struggles for mastery betwixt the principles of the world, the flesh, and the devil ;—which set up so strong a confederacy, that there is need of all the helps which reason and Christianity can offer to bring them down. Rut this contention is not that against which such exhortations in the gospel are levelled ;—for the scripture must be interpreted by scripture, and be made consistent with itself.—*And we find the dis¬ tinguishing marks and doctrines by which ail men were to know who were Christ’s disciples,—was that benevolent frame of mind towards all our fel¬ low-creatures, which, by itself, is a sufficient secur¬ ity for the particular social duty here recommend¬ ed :—so far from meditations of war,—for love think- cth no evil to his neighbour;—so far from doing any, it harbours not the least thought of it ;—but, on the contrary, rejoices with them that rejoice, and weeps with them that weep. This debt Christianity has highly exalted ; though it is a debt that we were sensible of before, and ac¬ knowledged to be owing to human, nature ; which, as we all partake of,—so ought we to pay it in a suitable respect ; for, as men, we are allied together in the natural bond of brotherhood, and are mem¬ bers one of another.—\Ve have the same Father in SERMON XLt. 215 W heaven, who made us, and takes care of us all.—Our earthly extraction too, is nearer alike than the pride of the world cares to be reminded of :—for Adam was the father of us all ; and Eve the mother of all living.-—The prince and the beggar sprung from the same stock, as wide asunder as the branches are. So that, in this view, the most upstart family may vie antiquity, and compare families with the greatest monarchs.—We are all formed too of the same mould, and must equally return to the same dust.—So that, to love our neighbour and live qui¬ etly with him, is to live at peace with ourselves :— he is but self-multiplied, and enlarged into another form ; and to be unkind or cruel to him, is but, as Solomon observes of the unmerciful, to be cru¬ el to our own flesh.—As a farther motive and en¬ gagement to this peaceable commerce with each other,—God has placed us all in one another’s pow¬ er by turns, in a condition of mutual need and de¬ pendence. There is no man so liberally stocked with earthly blessings, as to be able to live without ano¬ ther man’s aid.—God, in his wisdom, has so dis¬ pensed his gifts, in various kinds, and measures, as to render us helpful, and make a social intercourse indispensable. The prince depends on the labour and industry of the peasant ; and the wealth and honour of the greatest persons, are fed and support¬ ed from the same source. This the apostle hath elegantly set forth to us, by the familiar resemblance of the natural body.;— wherein there are many members, and all have not the same office ; but the different faculties and op¬ erations of each, are for the use and benefit of the whole. The eye sees not for itself, but for the other k 3 216 SERMON XU. members and is set up as a light to direct them : —the feet serve to support and carry about the other parts ; and the hands act and labour for them all. It is the same in states and kingdoms, wherein there are many members, yet each in their several func¬ tions and employments ; which, if peaceably dis¬ charged, are for the harmony of the whole state.— Some are eyes and guides to the blind ;—others, feet to the lame and impotent ;—some supply the place of the head, to assist with council and direc¬ tion ;—others the hands, to be useful by their la¬ bour and industry—To make this link of depend¬ ence still stronger,—there is a great portion of mu¬ tability in all human affairs, to make benignity of temper not only our duty, but our interest and wis¬ dom.—There is no condition in life so fixed and per¬ manent as to be out of danger, or the reach of change :—-and we all may depend upon it, that we shall take our turns of wanting and desiring.—By how many unforeseen causes may riches take wing 1 —The crowns of princes may be shaken, and the greatest that ever awed the world have experienc¬ ed what the turn of the wheel can do. That which hath happened to one man, may befall another ; and, therefore, that excellent rule of our Saviour’s ought to govern us in all our actions—“ Whatsoever ye « would that men should do to you, do ye also unto « them likewise.”—Time and chance happen to all; —and the most affluent may be stript of all, and find his worldly comforts like so many withered leaves dropping from him.—Sure, nothing can bet¬ ter become us than hearts so full of our dependence, as to overflow with mercy, and pity, and good-will towards mankind 1 To exhort us to this is, in other SERMON XLT. 217 words, to exhort us to “ follow peace with all men —the first is the root ;—this, the fair fruit and hap* py product of it. Therefore, my beloved brethren, in the bowels of mercy, let us put away anger, and malice, and evil- speaking ;—let us fly all clamour and strife ; let us be kindly affected one to another,—following “ peace u with ali men, and holiness, that we may see the Lord :** Which God of his infinite mercy grant, through the merits of his Son, our Lord and Saviour. Amen. SERMON XLII. SEARCH THE SCRIPTURES. ST. JOHN V. 39. Search the Scriptures. That things of the most inestimable use and va¬ lue, for want of due application and study laid out upon them, may be passed by unregarded, nay, even looked upon with coldness and aversion, is a truth too evident to need enlarging on. Nor is it less certain that prejudices, contracted by an unhappy education, will sometimes so stop up all the passa¬ ges to our hearts, that the most amiable objects can never find access, or bribe us by all their charms into justice and impartiality. It would be passing the tenderest reflection upon the age we live in, to say it is owing to one of these, that those inestima¬ ble books, the sacred w r ritings, meet so often with a disrelish (what makes the accusation almost in¬ credible) amongst persons who set up for men of taste and delicacy ; who pretend to be charmed with what they call beauties and nature in classical authors, and in other things would blush not to be reckoned amongst sound and impartial criticks.— But so far has negligence and prepossession stop¬ ped their ears against the voice of the charmer, that they turn over those awful sacred pages with inat¬ tention and an unbecoming indifference, unaffected amidst ten thousand sublime and noble passages,. SERMON XLII. 219 which, by the rules of sound criticism and reason, may be demonstrated to be truly eloquent and beau¬ tiful. Indeed, the opinion of false Greek and barbarous language in the Old and New Testament, had, for some ages, been a stumbling-block to another set of men, who were professedly great readers and ad¬ mirers of the antients.—The sacred writings were, by these persons, rudely attacked on all sides : ex¬ pressions which came not within the compass of their learning, were branded with barbarism and solecism ; words which scarce signified any thing but the ignorance of those who laid such ground¬ less charges on them.—Presumptuous man !—Shall he, who is but dust and ashes, dare to find fault with the words of that Being, who first inspired man with language and taught his mouth to utter !—who opened the lips of the dumb, and made the infant eloquent 1—These persons, as they attacked the in¬ spired writing "on the foot of criticks and men of learning, accordingly have been treated as such :— and tho’ a shorter way might have been gone to work, which was,—that as their accusations reached no farther than the bare words and phraseology of the bible,—-they in nowise affected the sentiments and soundness of the doctrines, which were convey¬ ed with as much clearness and perspicuity to man¬ kind, as they could have been, had the language been written with the utmost elegance and gram¬ matical nicety : and even though the charge of bar¬ barous idioms could be made out,—yet the cause of Christianity was thereby nowise affected, but re¬ mained just in the state they found it.—Yet, unhap¬ pily for them, they even miscarried in their favour- 220 SERMON XLII. ite point there being few, if any at all, of the scripture-expressions, which may not be justified by numbers of parallel modes of speaking, made use of amongst the purest and most authentick Greek authors.—This, an able hand amongst us, not many years ago, has sufficiently made out, and thereby baffled and exposed all their presumptions and ri¬ diculous assertions.—These persons, bad and de¬ ceitful as they were, are yet far outgone by a third set of men.—I wish we had not too many instances of them, who, like foul stomachs, that turn the sweet¬ est food to bitterness, upon all occasions endeavour to make merry with sacred scripture, and turn eve¬ ry thing they meet with therein into banter and bur¬ lesque—But as men of this stamp, by their excess of wickedness and weakness together, have entirely disarmed us from arguing with them as reasonable creatures, it is not only making them too considera¬ ble, but likewise to no purpose to spend much time about them,—they being, in the language of the apostle, “ creatures of no understanding, speak- “ ing evil of things they know not, and shall utterly “ perish in their own corruption.”—Of these two last, the one is disqualified for being argued with,— and the other has no occasion for it; they being al¬ ready silenced.—Yet those that were first mention¬ ed, may not altogether be thought unworthy of our endeavours ;—being persons, as was hinted before, who, though their tastes are so far vitiated that they cannot relish the sacred scriptures, yet have imag¬ inations capable of being raised by the fancied ex¬ cellencies of classical writers :—and indeed these persons claim from us some degree of pity, when, through the unskilfulness of preceptors in their SERMON XLII. 221 youth, or some other unhappy circumstance in their education, they have been taught to form false and wretched notions of good writing.—When this is the case, it is no wonder they should be more touched and affected with the dressed-up trifles and empty conceits of poets and rhetoricians, than they are with that true sublimity and grandeur of sentiment which glow throughout every page of the inspired writings.—By way of information, such should be instructed :— There are two sorts of eloquence: the one indeed scarce deserves the name of it, which consists chiefly in labour’d and polish’d periods, an over-curious and artificial arrangement of figures, linsell’d over with a gaudy embellishment of words, which glitter, but convey little or no light to the understanding.—• This kind of writing is, for the most part, much af¬ fected and admired by people of weak judgment and vitious taste ; but is a piece of affection and formality the sacred writers are utter strangers to. —-It is a vain and boyish eloquence ; and, as it has always been esteemed below the great geniuses of all ages, so much more so, with respect to those writers who were actuated by the spirit of Infinite Wisdom, and therefore wrote with that force and majesty with which never man writ—The other sort of eloquence is quite the reverse of this ; and which may be said to be the true characteristick of the holy scriptures ; where the excellence does not arise from a laboured and far-fetched elocution, but from a surprising mixture of simplicity and majesty, which is a double character, so difficult to be united, that it is seldom to be met with in composi¬ tions merely human.—We see nothing in holy writ 22.2 SERMON XLII. of affectation and superfluous ornament—As the infinite wise Being- has condescended to stoop to our language, thereby to convey to us the light of reve¬ lation, so has he been pleased graciously to accom* modate it to us with the most natural and graceful plainness it would admit of.—Now, it is observable, that the most excellent prophane authors, whether Greek or Latin, lose most of their graces whenever we find them literally translated—Homer’s famed representation of Jupiter, in his first book,—his cried-up description of a tempest ;—his relation of Neptune’s shaking the earth, and opening it to its centre ;—his description of Pallas’s horses ; with numbers of other long-since admired passages,— flag, and almost vanish away, in the vulgar Latin translation. Let any one but take the pains to read the com¬ mon Latin interpretation of Virgil, Theocritus, or even of Pindar,—and one may venture to affirm lie will be able to trace out but few remains of the graces which charmed him so much in the original. —The natural conclusion from hence is, that, in the classical authors, the expression, the sweetness of the numbers, occasioned by a musical placing of words, constitute a great part of their beauties ;—whereas, in the sacred writings, they consist more in the greatness of the things themselves, than in the words and expressions.—The ideas and conceptions are so great and lofty in their own nature, that they necessarily appear magnificent in the most artless dress.—Look but into the bible, and we see them shine through the most simple and literal transla¬ tions.—That glorious description which Moses gives of the creation of the heavens and the earth, which SERMON XLII. 223 Longinus, the best critick the eastern world ever produced, was so justly taken with, has not lost the least whit of its intrinsick worth ; and, though it has undergone so many translations, yet triumphs over all, and breaks forth with as much force and vehe¬ mence as in the original.—Of this stamp are num¬ bers of passages throughout the scriptures :—In¬ stance that celebrated description of a tempest in the hundred-and-seventh Psalm ; those beautiful reflections of holy Job upon the shortness of life, and instability of human affairs, so judiciously appoint¬ ed by our church in her office for the burial of the dead ;—that lively description of a horse of war, in the thirty-ninth chapter of Job, in which, from the 19th to the 26th verse, there is scarce a word which does not merit a particular explication to display the beauties of.—I might add to these, those tender and pathetick expostulations with the children of Israel, which run throughout all the prophets, which the most uncritical reader can scarce help being affected with “ And now, O inhabitants of Jerusalem, and men “ of Judah, judge, I pray you, betwixt me and my tl vineyard.—What could have been done more to “ my vineyard that I have not done ?—wherefore, ‘ { when I expected that it should bring forth grapes, “ brought it forth wild grapes ?—and yet, ye say, “ the way of the Lord is unequal 1—-Hear now 7 , O “ house of Israel, is not my way equal ?—are not “ your ways unequal ?—have 1 any pleasure at all “ that the wicked should die, and not that he should “ return from his ways and live ?—I have nourished “ and brought up children, and they have rebelled “ against me.—The ox knows his owner, and the ass 224 SERMON XLII. “ his master’s crib ?—but Israel doth not know, my “ people doth not consider.”—There is nothing in all the eloquence of the heathen world comparable to the vivacity and tenderness of these reproaches ; —there is something in them so thoroughly affect¬ ing, and so noble and sublime withal, that one might challenge the writings of the most celebrated ora¬ tors of antiquity to produce any thing like them.— These observations upon the superiority of the in¬ spired penmen to heathen ones, in that which re¬ gards the composition more conspicuously, hold good when they are considered upon the foot of his¬ torians.—Not to mention that prophane histories give an account only of human achievements and temporal events, which, for the most part, are so full of uncertainty and contradictions, that we are at a loss where to seek for truth ;—but that the sa¬ cred history is the history of God himself,—the his¬ tory of his omnipotence and infinite wisdom, his universal providence, his justice and mercy, and all his other attributes, displayed under a thousand dif¬ ferent forms, by a series of the most various and wonderful events that ever happened to any nation or language.—Not to insist upon this visible supe¬ riority in sacred history,—there is yet another un¬ doubted excellence the prophane historians seldom arrive at, which is almost the distinguishing char¬ acter of the sacred ones ; namely, that unaffect¬ ed, artless manner of relating historical facts,— which is so entirely of a piece with every other part of the holy writings.—What I mean will be best made out by a few instances.—In the history of Jo¬ seph (which certainly is told with the greatest vari¬ ety of beautiful and affecting circumstances)—when SERMON XLII. 225 Joseph makes himself known, and weeps aloud up¬ on the neck of his dear brother Benjamin, that all the house of Pharaoh heard him.; at that instant, none of his brethren are introduced as uttering aught, either to express their present joy, or palliate their former injuries to him.—On all sides, there immedi¬ ately ensues a deep and solemn silence ;—a silence infinitely more eloquent and expressive than any thing else that could have been substituted in its place. Had Thucydides, Herodotus, Livy, or any of the celebrated classical historians, been employ¬ ed in writing this history,—when they came to this point, they would, doubtless, have exhausted all their fund of eloquence in furnishing Joseph’s brethren with laboured and studied harangues; which, however fine they might have been in them¬ selves, would, nevertheless, have been unnatural, and altogether improper on the occasion ;—for, when such a variety of contrary passions broke in upon them.—what tongue was able to utter their hurried and distracted thoughts:—When remorse, surprise, shame, joy, and gratitude, struggled to¬ gether in their bosoms, how uneloquently would their lips have performed their duty !—how unfaith¬ fully would their tongues have spoken the language of their hearts !—In this case, silence was truly elo¬ quent and natural, and tears expressed what oratory was incapable of. If ever these persons I have been addressing my¬ self to, can be persuaded to follow the advice in the text, of searching the scriptures,—the work of their salvation will be begun upon its true founda¬ tion ;—for, first, they will insensibly be led to ad¬ mire the beautiful propriety of their language :—. 226 SERMON XLlt when a favourable opinion is conceived of this, next, they will more closely attend to the goodness of the moral, and the purity and soundness of the doctrines, —The pleasure of reading will still be increased, by that near concern which they will find them¬ selves to have in those many important truths which they will see so clearly demonstrated in the bible, that grand charter of our eternal happiness.—It is the fate of mankind, too often, to seem insensible of what they may enjoy at the easiest rate.—What might not our neighbouring Romish countries, who groan under the yoke of popish impositions and priestcraft,—what might not those poor misguided creatures give, for the happiness which we know not now to value,—of being born in a country where a church is established by our laws, and encouraged by our princes !—which not only allows the free study of the scriptures, but even exhorts and in¬ vites us to it !—a church that is a stranger to the tricks and artifice of having the bible in an unknown tongue, to give the greater latitude to the designs of the clergy, in imposing their own trumpery, and foisting in whatever may best serve to aggrandize themselves, or enslave the wretches committed to their trust !—In short, our religion was not given us to raise our imaginations with ornaments of words, or strokes of eloquence ; but to purify our hearts, and lead us into the paths of righteousness. —However, not to defend ourselves—when the at¬ tack is principally levelled at this point,—might give occasion to our adversaries to triumph, and charge us cither with negligence or inability.—It is well known how willing the enemies of our religion are to seek occasions against us !—how ready to SERMON XLVII. 227 magnify every mote in our eyes to the bigness of a beam !—how eager, upon the least default, to insult and cry out,—There, there !—so would we have it 1 —not, perhaps, that we are so much the subject of malice and aversion, but that the licentious age seems bent upon bringing Christianity into discredit at any rate ; and, rather than miss the aim, would strike through the sides of those that are sent to teach it.—Thank God, the truth of our holy reli¬ gion is established with such strong evidence, that it rests upon a foundation never to be overthrown, either by the open assaults or cunning devices of wicked and designing men !—The part we have to act, is to be steady, sober, and vigilant ; to be rea¬ dy to do every good work ; to reprove, rebuke, and exhort, with all long-suffering ; to give occasion of offence to no man ; that, with well-doing, we may put to silence the ignorance of foolish men. I shall close all with that excellent collect of our church :-* < Blessed Lord, who hast caused all holy scrip- ‘ tures to be written for our learning,—grant that { we may in suchwise hear them, read, mark, learn, * and inwardly digest them, that, by patience and ‘ comfort of thy holy word, we may embrace, and ever 1 hold fast, the blessed hope of everlasting life, which * thou hast given us in thy Son, our Saviour, Jesus ■[ Christ 1’ Now to God the Father, See. SERMON XLIII. PSALM XCY. 6, 7. O come, let us worship and fall down before him :—for he is the Lord our God.— In this psalm we find holy David taken up with the pious contemplation of God’s infinite power, majesty, and greatness :—he considers him as the sovereign Lord of the whole earth, the Maker and Supporter of all things ;—that by him the heavens were created, and all the host of them ; that the earth was wisely fashioned by his hands;—he has founded it upon the seas, and established it upon the floods :—that we likewise, the people of his pasture, were raised up by the same creating hand, from nothing, to the dignity of rational creatures, made (with respect to our reason and understanding) after his own most perfect image. It was natural to imagine that such a contem¬ plation would light up a flame of devotion in any grateful man’s breast : and accordingly we find it break forth in the words of the text, in a kind of religious rapture,— “ O come, let us worship and fall down before “ him ;—for he is the Lord our God/’ Sure, never exhortation to prayer and worship can be better enforced than upon this principle,—that God is the Cause and Creator of all things ;— that each individual being is upheld in the station it was first placed, by the same hand which first formed SERMON XLIIL 229 it ;—-that all the blessings and advantages which are necessary to the happiness and welfare of beings on earth, are only to be derived from the same Fountain ;—and that the only way to do it, is to secure an interest in his favour, by a grateful expres¬ sion of our sense for the benefits we have received, and a humble dependence upon him for those we expect and stand in need of.—“ Whom have we in “ Heaven,” says the Psalmist,“ but thee, O God, K to look unto or depend on !—to whom shall we u pour out our complaints, and speak of all our il wants and necessities, but to thy goodness, which i: is ever willing to confer upon us whatever becomes “ us to ask, and thee to grant !—because thou hast a promised to be nigh unto all that call upon thee, (( —yea, unto all such as call upon thee faithfully iC that thou wilt fulfil the desire of them that fear <£ thee ; that thou wilt also hear their cry, and help “ them !” Of all duties, prayer certainly is the sweetest and most easy—-There are some duties which may seem to occasion a troublesome opposition to the natural workings of flesh and blood ;—such as the forgiveness of injuries, and the love of our enemies: —others, which will force us unavoidably into a perpetual struggle with our passions,—which war against the soul -such as chastity,—temperance, —humility.—1 here are other virtues, which seem to bid us forget our present interest for a while, such as charity and generosity ;—others, that teach us to forget it at all times, and wholly to fix our affections on things above, and in no circumstance to act like men that look for a continuing city here, but upon one to come, whose builder and maker is VOL. v. L 230 SERMON XLIII. God. But this duty of prayer and thanksgiving to God>—has no such oppositions to encounter *— it takes no bullock out of thy field)—no horse out of thy stable,—nor he-goat out of thy fold;—it cost- eth no weariness of bones, no untimely watchings ; —it requireth no strength of parts, or painful study, but just to know and have a true sense of our dependence, and of the mercies by which we are upheld :—and with this, in every place and posture of body, a good man may lift up his soul unto the Lord his God. Indeed, as to the frequency of putting this duty formally in practice, as the precept must necessari¬ ly have varied according to the different stations in which God has placed us ;—so he has been pleased to determine nothing precisely concerning it:-— for, perhaps, it would be unreasonable to expect that the day-labourer, or he that supports a numer¬ ous family by the sweat of his brow, should spend as much of his time in devotion, as the man of lei¬ sure and unbounded wealth.—This, however, in the general, may hold good, that we are bound to pay this tribute to God, as often as his providence has put an opportunity into our hands of so doing,—pro¬ vided that no plea, drawn from the necessary atten¬ tions to the affairs of the world, which many mens sit¬ uations oblige them to, may be supposed to extend to an exemption from paying their morning and even¬ ing sacrifice to God.—For it seems to be the least that can be done to answer the demand of our duty in this point,—successively to open and shut up the day in prayer and thanksgiving,—since there is not a morning thou risest, or a night thou liest down, but thou art indebted for it t© the watchful provi- SERMON XLI1J. 231 dence of Almighty God.—David and Daniel, whose names are recorded in scripture for future exam¬ ple :—the first, though a mighty king, embarrassed with wars abroad, and unnatural disturbances at home i a situation, one would think, would allow little time for any thing but his own and his king¬ dom’s safety,—yet found he leisure to pray seven times a day :—the latter, the counsellor and first minister of state to the great Nebuchadnezzar; and, though perpetually fatigued with the affairs of a mighty kingdom, and the government of the whole province of Babylon, which was committed to his administration ;—though near the person of an idol¬ atrous king, and amidst the temptations of a luxuri¬ ous court,—yet never neglected he his God ; but, as we read,—he kneeled upon his knees three times a day, and prayed, and gave thanks before him. A frequent correspondence with heaven, by pray¬ er and devotion, is the greatest nourishment and support of spiritual life :—it keeps the sense of a God warm and lively within us,—which secures our disposition, and sets such guards over us, that hard¬ ly will a temptation prevail against us.—Who can entertain a base or an impure thought, or think of executing it, who is incessantly conversing with his God ?—or not despise every temptation this lower world can offer him, when, by his constant addres- | ses before the throne of God’s majesty, he brings the glorious prospect of heaven perpetually before his eyes ? I cannot help here taking notice of the doctrine of those who would resolve all devotion into the in¬ ner man, and think that there is nothing more re- efuisite to express our reverence to God, but purity 232 SERMON XLIII. and integrity of heart,—unaccompanied either with words or actions.—To this opinion it may be justly answered, that, in the present state we are in, we find such a strong sympathy and union between our souls and bodies, that the one cannot be touched or sensibly affected, without producing some corres¬ ponding emotion in the other. Nature has assign¬ ed a different look, tone of voice, and gesture, pe¬ culiar to every passion and affection we are subject to ; and, therefore, to argue against this strict cor¬ respondence which is held between our souls and bodies,—is disputing against the frame and me¬ chanism of human nature.—We are not angels, but men clothed with bodies, and, in some measure, governed by our imaginations, that we have need of all these external helps which nature has made the interpreters of our thoughts —and, no doubt, though a virtuous and a good life is more acceptable in the sight of God than either prayer or thanksgiving,— “ for, behold, to obey is better than sacrifice, and il to hearken, than the fat of rams ^’-—nevertheless as the one ought to be done, so the other ought not, by any means, to be left undone.—As God is to be obeyed,—so he is to be worshipped also ;—for, al¬ though inward holiness and integrity of heart is the ultimate end of the divine dispensations,—yet, ex¬ ternal religion is a certain means of promoting it:— each of them has its just bounds ;—and therefore } as we could not be so carnal as merely to rest con¬ tented with the one, so neither can we pretend to be so spiritual as to neglect the other. And though God is all-wise, and therefore under¬ stands our thoughts afar off,—and knows the exact degrees of our love and reverence to him, though SERMON XLIII. 233 we should withhold those outward marks of it,—yet God himself has been gfticiously pleased to com¬ mand us to pray to him-that we might beg the assistance of his grace to work with us against our infirmities ;—that we might acknowledge him to be, what he is, the Supreme Lord of the whole world; —that we might testify the sense we have of all his mercies and loving-kindness to us,—and confess that he has the propriety of every thing we enjoy,— fchat u the earth is the Lord’s, and the fulness M thereof.” Thus much of this duty of prayer in general.— From every individual it may be reasonably expect¬ ed, from a bare reflection upon his own station, his personal wants, and the daily blessings which he has received in particular;—but, for those blessings be¬ stowed upon the whole species in common,—reason seems farther to require, that a joint return should be made by as many of the species as can conve¬ niently assemble together for this religious purpose. —From hence arises, likewise, the reasonableness of publick worship, and sacred places set apart for that purpose ; without which, it would be very diffi¬ cult to preserve that sense of God and religion upon the minds of men, which is so necessary to their well-being, considered only as a civil society, and with regard to the purposes of this life, and the in¬ fluence which a just sense of it must have upon their actions.—Besides, men -who are united in societies, can have no other cement to unite them likewise in religious ties, as well as in manners of worship and points of faith, but the institution of solemn times and publick places destined for that use. And it is not to be questioned, that if the time, as 234 SERMON XLIII. well as place, for serving God, were once consider¬ ed as indifferent, and left far to every man’s choice as to have no calls to publick prayer, however a sense of religion might be preserved a while by a few speculative men, yet that the bulk of mankind w r ould lose all knowledge of it, and in time live without God in the world :—not that private prayer is the less our duty, the contrary of which is proved above ; and our Saviour says, that when we pray to God in secret, we shall be rewarded openly;—but that prayers which are publickly offered up in God’s house, tend more to the glory of God, and the bene¬ fit of ourselves :—for this reason, that they are pre¬ sumed to be performed with greater attention and seriousness, and therefore most likely to be heard with a more favourable acceptance :—and for this, one might appeal to every man’s breast, whether he has not been affected with the most elevated pitch of devotion, when he gave thanks in the great con¬ gregation of the saints, and praised God amongst much people ?—Of this united worship there is a glorious description which St. John gives us, in the Revelation, where he supposes the whole universe joining together, in their several capacities, to give glory in this manner to their common Lord. “Eve- 6i ry creature which was in heaven, and on earth, and « under the earth; and such as were in the seas, and il all that were in them, heard I, crying, Blessing, “ and honour, and glory, and power, be unto him t{ that sitteth upon the throne.” But here it may be asked, that if publick worship tends so much to promote the glory of God,—and is what is so indispensably the duty and benefit of every Christian state,—how came it to pass that our bless- SERMON XLIII. ed Saviour left no command to his followers, throughout the gospel, to set up publick places of worship, and keep them sacred for that purpose ?—- It may be answered,—That the necessity of setting apart places for divine worship, and the holiness of them when thus set apart, seemed already to have been so well established by former revelation, as not to need any express precept upon that subject ;— for though the particular appointment of the temple, and the confinement of worship to that place alone, were only temporary parts of the Jewish covenant, yet, the necessity and duty of having places some¬ where solemnly dedicated to God, carried a moral reason with it, and therefore was not abolished with the ceremonial part of the law.-—Our Saviour came not to destroy, but to fulfil the law;—and therefore the moral precepts of it, which promoted a due re¬ gard to the divine Majesty, remained in as full force as ever.—And accordingly we find it attested, both by Christian and heathen writers, that so soon as the second century, when the number of believers was much increased, and the circumstances of rich con¬ verts enabled them to do it-,—that they began to erect edifices for divine worship ; and though, under the frowns and oppressions of the civil power, they every sabbath assembled themselves therein, that with one heart and one lip they might declare whose they were, and whom they served ; and, as the ser¬ vants of one Lord, might offer up their joint prayers and petitions. I wish there was no reason to lament an abate¬ ment of this religious zeal amongst Christians of later days. Though the piety of our forefathers seems, in a great measure, to have deprived us of die merit of building churches for the service of God) 2S6 SERMON XLILI. there can be no such plea for not frequenting them in a regular and solemn manner. How often do peo¬ ple absent themselves (when in the utmost distress how to dispose of themselves) from church, even upon those days which are set apart for nothing else but the worship of God 1—when, to trifle that day away^ or apply any portion of it to secular concerns, is a.sacrilege almost in the literal sense of the word ! From this duty of publick prayer arises another, which I cannot help speaking of, it being so depend¬ ent upon itI mean a serious, devout, and respect¬ ful behaviour, when we are performing this solemn duty in the house of God. This is surely the least that can be necessary in the immediate presence of the Sovereign of the world, upon whose acceptance of our addresses all our present and future happi¬ ness depends. External behaviour is the result of inward rever¬ ence, and is therefore part of our duty to God, whom we are to worship in body as w r ell as spirit. And as no one should be wanting in outward re¬ spect and decorum before an earthly prince or supe¬ rior,—much less should we be so before him, whom the heaven of heavens cannot contain l Notwithstanding the obviousness of this branch of duty,—it seems often to be little understood ;— and whoever will take a general survey of church- behaviour, will often meet with scenes of sad varie¬ ty.—What a vein of indolence and indevotion some¬ times seems to run throughout whole congrega¬ tions !—what ill-timed pains do some take in put¬ ting on an air of gaiety and indifference in the most interesting parts of this duty.,—even when they are making confession of their sins, as if they were SERMON XLIII. 237 ashamed to be thought serious with their God !— Surely, to address ourselves to his infinite Majesty, after a negligent and dispassionate manner, besides the immediate indignity offered,—is a sad sign we little consider the blessings we ask for, and far less deserve them.—Besides, what is a prayer, unless our hearts and affections go along with it ?—It is not so much as the shadow of devotion ; and little better than the papist telling their beads,—or honouring God with their lips, when their hearts are far from him 1 The consideration, that a person is come to prostrate himself before the throne of high Heaven, and in that place which is particularly distinguished by his presence,—is sufficient inducement for any one to watch over his imagination, and guard against the least appearance of levity and disrespect. An inward sincerity will of course influence the outward deportment ; but where the one is wanting, there is great reason to suspect the absence of the other.—I own it is possible, and often happens, that this external garb of religion may be worn,, when there is little within of a piece with it;—but I be¬ lieve the converse of the proposition can never hap¬ pen to be true, that a truly religious frame of mind should exist without some outward mark of it.—Ths mind will shine through the veil of flesh which cov¬ ers it, and naturally express its religious disposi¬ tions ~and, if it possesses the power of godliness, —will have the external form of it too. May. God grant us to be defective in neither,— but that we may so praise and magnify God on earth, —that when he cometh, at the last day, with ten thou¬ sand of his saints in heaven,, to judge the world, we may be partakers of their eternal inheritance ! Amer. SERMON XLIV. THE WAYS OF PROVIDENCE JUSTIFIED TO MAN. PSALM LXXIII. 12, 13. Behold, these are the ungodly who prosper in the world ; they in¬ crease in riches. Verily, I have cleansed my heart in vain, and washed my hands in innocency. This complaint of the Psalmist, concerning the promiscuous distribution of God’s blessings to the just and unjust ;—that the sun should shine without distinction upon the good and the bad,—and rains de¬ scend upon the righteous and unrighteous man,—is a subject that has afforded much matter for inquiry, and at one time or other has raised doubts to dis¬ hearten and perplex the minds of men. If the Sov¬ ereign Lord of all the earth does look on, whence so much disorder in the face offthings ■—why is it per¬ mitted, that wise and good men should be left often a prey to so many miseries and distresses of life,— whilst the guilty and foolish triumph in their offen¬ ces ; and even the tabernacles of robbers prosper ? To this it is answered,—That therefore there is a future state of rewards and punishments to take place after this life, wherein all these inequalities shall be made even,—where the circumstances of every man’s case shall be considered, and where God shall be justified in all his ways, and every mouth shall be stopt. SERMON XL1V. 239 If this was so,—if the ungodly were to prosper in the world, and have riches in possession,—and no distinction to be made hereafter,—to what purpose would it have been to have maintained our integri- ty ?—“ Lo ! then, indeed, should I have cleansed u my heart in vain, and washed my hands in inno- “ cency.’* It is farther said, and what is a more direct an¬ swer to the point,—>that when God created man,— that he might make him capable of receiving hap¬ piness at his hands hereafter,—he endowed him with liberty and freedom of choice, without which he could not have been a creature accountable for his actions ;—that it is merely from the bad use he makes of these gilts,—that all those instances of irregularity do result, upon which the complaint is here grounded,—which could nowise be prevented, but by the to tal subversion of human liberty ;—that should God make bare his arm, and interpose in every injustice that is committed,—mankind might be said to do what was right,—but, at the same time, to lose the merit of it, since they would act under force and necessity, and not from determinations of their own mind ;—that upon this supposition,—a man could with no more reason expect to go to heaven for acts of temperance, justice, and human¬ ity, than for the ordinary impulses of hunger and. thirst, which nature directed ;—that God has dealt with man upon better terms he has first endow¬ ed him with liberty and free-will -he has set life and death, good and evil, before him ;—that he has given him faculties to find out what will be the con¬ sequences of either way of acting, and then left him to take which course his reason and discretion, shall point out 240 SERMON XL1V. I shall desist from enlarging any farther upon either of the foregoing arguments in vindication of God’s providence, which are urged so often with so much force and conviction, as to leave no room for a reasonable reply ;—since the miseries which befall the good, and the seeming happiness of the wicked, could not be otherwise in such a free state and con- dition as this in which we are placed. In all charges of this kind, we generally take two things for granted:.— 1st, That in the instances we give, we know certainly the good from the bad ;—. and, 2diy, The respective state of their enjoyments or sufferings. I shall therefore, in the remaining part of my dis¬ course, take up your time with a short inquiry into the difficulties of coming not only at the true char¬ acters of men,—but likewise of knowing the de¬ grees either of their real happiness or misery in this life. The first of these will teach us candour in our judgment of others ;—the second,—to which I shall confine myself,—will teach us humility in our rea¬ sonings upon the ways of God. For though the miseries of the good, and the pros¬ perity of the wicked, are not in general to be deni¬ ed,—yet I shall endeavour to shew, that the partic¬ ular instances we are apt to produce, when we cry out in the words of the Psalmist, “ Lo 1 these are il the ungodly,—these prosper, and are happy in the “ world —I say, I shall endeavour to shew, that we are so ignorant of the articles of the charge,—and the evidence we go upon to make them good, is so lame and defective,—as to be sufficient by itself to to check all propensity to expostulate with God’s SERMON XLIV. 24 i providence, allowing there was no other way of clearing up the matter reconcileably to his attri¬ butes. And, first, what certain and infallible marks have we of the goodness or badness of the bulk of man¬ kind ? If we trust to fame and reports,—if they are good, how do we know but they may proceed from partial friendship or flattery ?—-when bad, from envy or mal¬ ice, from ill-natured surmises and constructions of things ?—and, on both sides, from small matters aggrandized through mistake,—and sometimes through the unskilful relation of even truth itself ? *—From some, or all of w r hich causes, it happens that the characters of men, like the histories of the Egyptians, are to be received and read with cau¬ tion ••—they are generally dressed out and disfigur¬ ed with so many dreams and fables, that every ordi¬ nary reader shall not be able to distinguish truth from falsehood.—But allowing these reflections to be too severe in this matter,—that no such thing as envy ever lessened a man’s character, or malice blackened it,—yet the characters of men are not easily penetrated, as they depend often upon the retirexl, unseen parts of a man’s life.—The best and truest piety is most secret; and the worst of actions, for different reasons, will be so too.—Some men are modest and seem to take pains to hide their vir¬ tues pand, from a natural distance and reserve in their tempers, scarce suffer their good qualities to be known.—Others, on the contrary, put in prac¬ tice a thousand little arts to counterfeit virtues which they have not,—the better to conceal those vices which they really have ;—and this under fair 242 SERMON XLIV. shows of sanctity, good-nature, generosity, or some virtue or other,—too specious to be seen through,—• too amiable and disinterested to be suspected.— These hints maybe sufficient to show how hard it is to come at the matter of fact—But one may go a step farther,—and say, that even that, in many cases, could we come to the knowledge of it, is not suffi¬ cient by itself to pronounce a man either good or bad—There are numbers of circumstances which attend every action of a man’s life, which can never come to the knowledge of the world,—yet ought to be known, and well weighed, before sentence with any justice can be passed upon him.—A man may have different views and a different sense of things from which his judges have; and what he under¬ stands and feels, and what passes within him, may be a secret treasured up deeply there forever.—A man, through bodily infirmity, or some complexion- al defect, which perhaps, is not in his power to cor¬ rect,—may be subject to inadvertencies,—to starts «—and unhappy turns of temper ; he may lie open to snares he is not always aware of; or, through ignorance and want of information and proper helps, he may labour in the dark :—in all which cases, he may do many things which are wrong in themselves, and yet be innocent ;—at least an object rather to be pitied than censured with se¬ verity and ill-will.—These are difficulties which stand in every one’s way in the forming a judgment of the characters of others.—But, for once, let us suppose them all to be got over, so that we could see the bottom of every man’s heart;—let us allow that the word rogue or honest man, was wrote so legibly in every man’s face, that no one could possible mis¬ take it,—yet still the happiness of both the one and SERMON XLIV. 243 the other, which is the only fact that can bring the charge home, is what we have so little certain knowledge of,—that, bating some flagrant instances, whenever we venture to pronounce upon it, our de¬ cisions are little more than random guesses.—For who can search the heart of man ?—it is treacher¬ ous even to ourselves, and much more likely to im¬ pose upon others.—Even in laughter (if you will be¬ lieve Solomon) the heart is sorrowful :—the mind sits droofiing, whilst the countenance is gay !—and even he, who is the object of envy to those who look no farther than the surface of his estate,—may ap¬ pear, at the same time, worthy of compassion to those who know his private recesses.—Besides this, a man’s unhappiness is not to be ascertained so much from what is known to have befallen him,— as from his particular turn and cast of mind, and capacity of bearing it.—Poverty, exile, loss of fame or friends, the death of children, the dearest of all pledges of a man’s happiness, make not equal im¬ pressions upon every temper—You will see one man undergo, with scarce the expense of a sigh,— what another, in the bitterness of his soul, would go mourning for all his life long ;—nay, a hasty word, or an unkind look, to a soft and tender nature, will strike deeper than a sword to the hardened and senseless.—If these reflections hold true with regard to misfortunes,—they are the same with regard to enjoyments :—we are formed differently,—have dif¬ ferent tastes and perceptions of things ;—by the force of habit, education, or a particular cast of mind, —it happens, that neither the use or possession of the same enjoyments and advantages, produce the same happiness and contentment 5—but that it dif- 244 SERMON XLIV. fers in every man almost, according to his tem- per and conmplexion ;—so that the self-same hap- py accidents in life, which shall give raptures to the cholerick or sanguine man, shall be receiv¬ ed with indifference by the cold and phlegmatick ; —and so oddly perplexed are the accounts of both human happiness and misery in this world,— that trifles, light as air, shall be able to make the hearts of some men sing for joy ;—at the same time that others, with real blessings and advantages, without the power of using them, have their hearts heavy and discontented. Alas \ if the principles of contentment are not within us,—the height of station and worldly gran¬ deur will as soon add a cubit to a man’s stature as to his happiness. This will suggest to us how little a way we have gone towards the proof of any man’s happiness,— in barely saying,—Lo 1 this man prospers in the world !—and this man has riches in possession 1 When a man has got much above us, we take it for granted—that he sees some glorious prospects, and feels some mighty pleasures from his height ; —whereas, could we get up to him, it is great odds whether we should find any thing to make us toler¬ able amends for the pains and trouble of climbing up so high.—nothing, perhaps, but more dangers and more troubles still ;—and such a giddiness of head besides, as to make a wise man wish he was well down again upon the level.—To calculate, therefore, the happiness of mankind by their stations and honours, is the most deceitful of all rules :— great, no doubt, is the happiness which a moderate fortune, and moderate desires, with a consciousness SERMON XLIV. 245 of virtue, will secure a man. Many are the silent pleasures of the honest peasant, who rises cheerful¬ ly to his labour.—Look into his dwelling—(where the scene of every man’s happiness chiefly lies) ;— he has the same domestick endearments,—as much joy and comfort in his children,—and as flattering hopes of their doing well,—to enliven his hours and glad his heart, as you could conceive in the most affluent station :—and I make no doubt, in general, but, if the true account of his joys and sufferings were to be balanced with those of his betters,—that the upshot would prove to be little more than this,— That the rich man had the more meat,—but the poor man the better stomach :—the one had more luxury,—more able physicians to attend and set him to rights ;—the other, more health and soundness in his bones, and less occasion for their help : that, after these two articles betwixt them were balanced, —in all other things they were upon a level—That the sun shines as warm,—the air blows as fresh, and the earth breathes as fragrant, upon the one as the other; and that they have an equal share in all the beauties and real benefits of nature.-—These hints may be sufficient to shew what I proposed from them, ■■—the difficulties which attend us in judging truly either of the happiness or the misery of the bulk of mankind,—the evidence being still more defective in this case (as the matter of fact is hard to come at) —than even in that of judging of their true charac¬ ters ; of both which, in general, we have such im¬ perfect knowledge, as will teach us candour in our determinations upon each other. But the main purport of this discourse is, to teach us humility in our reasonings upon the ways of the Almighty. 246 SERMON XLIV. That things are dealt unequally in this world, is one of the strongest natural arguments for a future state,—and, therefore, is not to be overthrown ; nev¬ ertheless, I am persuaded the charge is far from being as great as at first sight it may appear ;—or, it if is, that our views of things are so narrow and confined, that it is not in our power to make it good. But suppose it otherwise,—that the happiness and prosperity of bad men were as great as our general complaints make them,—and (what is not the case) —that we were not able to clear up the matter, or' answer it reconcileably with God's justice and prov¬ idence,—what shall we infer ?—Why, the most be¬ coming conclusion is,—That it is one instance more, out of many others, of our ignorance.—Why should this or any other religious difficulty he cannot com¬ prehend,—why should it alarm him more than ten thousand other difficulties which every day elude his most exact and attentive search ?—Does not the meanest flower in the field, or the smallest blade of grass, baffle the understanding of the most penetrat¬ ing mind ?—Can the deepest enquiries after nature tell us, upon what particular size and motion of parts the various colours and tastes of vegetables depend ?—why one shrub is laxative,—another as¬ tringent ?—why arsenick or hellebore should lay waste this noble frame of ours ?—or opium lock up all the inroads to our senses, and plunder us, in so merciless a manner of reason and understanding ? —Nay, have not the most obvious things that come in our way, dark sides, which the quickest sight cannot penetrate into ? and do not the clearest and most exalted understandings find themselves puz¬ zled, and at a loss, in every particle of matter ? SERMON XLIV. 247 Go then,—proud man !—and when thy head turns giddy with opinions of thy own wisdom, that thou wouldst correct the measures of the Almighty,— go then,—take a full view of thyself in this glass :— Consider thy own faculties, how narrow and imper¬ fect ;—how much they are chequered with truth and falsehood ;—how little arrives at thy knowledge, and how darkly and confusedly thou discernest even that little, as in a glass :—consider the beginnings and endings of things, the greatest and the smallest, how they all conspire to baffle thee ;—and which way ever thou prosecutest thy enquiries,—what fresh subjects of amazement,—and what fresh rea¬ sons to believe there are more yet behind which thou canst never comprehend !—Consider,—these are but a part of his ways.—How little a portion is heard of him ?—“ Canst thou, by searching, find out “ God ?—wouldst thou know the Almighty to perfec® << tion ? It is as high as heaven, what canst thou {< do ?—it is deeper than hell, how canst thou <£ know it ?’* Could we but see the mysterious workings of Providence, and were we able to comprehend the whole plan of his infinite wisdom and goodness, which, possibly, may be the case in the final consum¬ mation of all things ;—those events, which we are now so perplexed to account for, would probably ex¬ alt and magnify his wisdom, and make us cry out, with the apostle, in that rapturous exclamation,— “ O ! the depth of the riches both of the goodness u and wisdom of God !—how unsearchable are his “ ways, and his paths past finding out !” Now to God, See, SERMON XLY. THE INGRATITUDE OF ISRAEL, II KINGS XVII. 7. For so it was,—that the children of Israel had sinned against the Lord their God, who had brought them up out of the land of Egypt. The words of the text account for the cause of a sad calamity, which is related, in the foregoing verses, to have befallen a great number of Israelites, who were surprised in the capital city of Samaria, by Hosea, king of Assyria, and crully carried away by him out of their own country, and placed on the des¬ olate frontiers of Halah, and in Haber, by the river Gozan, and in the city of the Medes, and there con¬ fined to end their days in sorrow and captivity.— Upon which the sacred historian, instead of account¬ ing for so sad an event merely from political springs and causes ; such, for instance, as the superior strength and policy of the enemy, or an unseasona¬ ble provocation given,—or that proper measures of defence were neglected,—he traces it up, in one word, to its true cause :— a For so it was,” says he, ■“ that the children of Israel had sinned against the “ Lord their God, who had brought them up out of u the land of Egypt.”—It was surely a sufficient foundation to dread some evil,—that they had sin¬ ned against that Being who had an unquestionable right to their obedience_But what an aggravation SERMON XLV. 249 was it,—that they had not only sinned simply against the truth, but against the God of mercies,*—“ who “ had brought them forth out of the land of Egypt *—who not only created, upheld, and favoured them with so many advantages in common with the rest of their fellow-creatures,—but who had been parti¬ cularly kind to them in their misfortunes ;—who, when they were in the house of bondage, in the most hopeless condition,—without a prospect of any natural means of redress, had compassionately heard their cry, and took pity upon the afflictions of a dis¬ tressed people,—and, by a chain of miracles, deliv¬ ered them from servitude and oppression :—mira¬ cles of so stupendous a nature, that I take delight to offer them, as often as I have an opportunity, to your devoutest contemplations.—This, you would think as high and as complicated an aggravation of their sins as could be urged :—this was not all ;— for, besides God’s goodness in first favouring their miraculous escape, a series of successes not to be accounted for from second causes and the natural course of events, had crowned their head’s in so re¬ markable a manner, as to afford an evident proof, not only of his general concern for their welfare, but of his particular providence and attachment to them above all people upon earth. In the wilder¬ ness he led them like sheep, and kept them as the apple of his eye :—he suffered no man to do them wrong, but reproved even kings for their sake.— When they entered into the promised land,—no force was able to stand before them ;—when in pos¬ session of it,—no army was able to drive them out:— and, in a word, nature, for a time, was driven back¬ wards to serve them, and even the sun itself had 250 SERMON XLV. stood still in the midst of heaven, to secure theit victories! A people with so many testimonies of God’s fa^ your, who had not profited thereby, so as to become a virtuous people, must have been utterly corrupt: —and so they were.—And it is likely, from the ma*> ny specimens they had given, in Moses’s time, of a disposition to forget God’s benefits, and, upon every trial, to rebel against him,—he foresaw they would certainly prove a thankless and unthinking people, extremely inclined to go astray and do evil ;—and, therefore, if any thing was likely to bring them back to themselves, and to consider the evils of their mis¬ doings,—it must be the dread of some temporal ca¬ lamity, which, he prophetically threatened, would one day or other befall them ;—hoping, no doubt, that if no principle of gratitude could make them an obedient people,—at least they might be wrought upon by the terror of being reduced back again by the same all-powerful hand to their first distressed condition ;—which, in the end, did actually overtake them.—For, at length, when neither the alterna¬ tives of promises nor threatenings, when neither rewards nor corrections,—comforts nor afflictions, could soften them ;—when continual instructions, warnings, invitations ;—reproofs, miracles, proph¬ ets, and holy guides, had no effect, but, instead of making them grow better, apparently made them grow worse,—God’s patience at length withdrew, —and he suffered them to reap the wages of their folly, by letting them fall into the state of bondage, from whence he had first raised them ;—and that not only in that partial instance of those in Samaria, who were taken by Hosea,—but, I mean, in that SERMON XLV. 251 more general instance of their overthrow by the ar¬ my of the Chaldeans ;—wherein he suffered the whole nation to be led away, and carried captive in ¬ to Nineveh and Babylon.—We may be assured, that the history of God Almighty’s just dealings with this froward and thoughtless people—was not wrote for nothing ;—but that it was given as a loud call and warning of obedience and gratitude, for all races of men to whom the light of revelation should hereafter reach ;—and, therefore, I have made choice of this subject, as it seems likely to furnish some reflections seasonable for the beginning of this week,—which should be devoted to such medi¬ tations as may prepare and fit us for the solemn fast which we are shortly to observe, and whose pious intention will not be answered by a bare assembling ourselves together, without making some religious and national remarks suitable to the occasion.— Doubtless, there is no nation which ever had so many extraordinary reasons and supernatural mo¬ tives to become thankful and virtuous as the Jews had ;—which, besides the daily blessings of God’s providence to them, has not received sufficient bless¬ ings and mercies at the hand of God, so as to en¬ gage their best services, and the warmest returns ©f gratitude they can pay. There has been a time, may be, when they have been delivered from some grievous calamity,—from the rage of pestilence or famine,—from the edge and fury of the sword,—from the fate and fall of kingdoms round them :—they may have been pre¬ served by providential discoveries of plots and de¬ signs against the well-being of their states, or by critical turns and revolutions in their favour, when 252 SERMON* XLV. beginning to sink.—By some signal interposition of Gods* providence, they may have rescued their lib¬ erties, and all was dear to them, from the jaws of some tyrant ;—or may have preserved their reli¬ gion pure and uncorrupted, when all other comforts failed them.—If other countries have reason to be thankful to God for any one of these mercies,—much more has this of ours—which, at one time or other^ has received them all;—insomuch, that our history, for this last hundred years, has scarce been any thing but the history of our deliverances and God’s blessings ;—and these in so complicated a chain, such as were scarce ever vouchsafed to any people besides, except the .Tews ;—and, with regard to them, though inferior in the stupendous manner of their working,—yet no way so—in the extensive good¬ ness of their effects, and the infinite benevolence and power which must have wrought them for us. Here then let us stop to look back a moment, and inquire what great effects all this has had upon our sins, and how far worthy we have lived of what we have received. A stranger, when he heard that this island had been so favoured by Heaven,—so happy in our laws and religion,—so flourishing in our trade,—and so blessed in our situation,—anil so visibly protected in all of them by Providence,—would conclude, that our morals had kept pace with these blessings ; and would expect that, as we were the most favoured by God Almighty, we must be the most virtuous and religious people upon earth. Would to God there was any other reason -to incline one to such a belief ’—would to God that the appearance of religion was more frequent! SERMON XLV. 253 that would necessarily imply the reality of it some¬ where, and most probably in the greatest and most respectable characters of the nation.—Such was the situation of this country, till a licentious king intro¬ duced a licentious age.—The court of Charles the Second first brake in upon, and, I fear, has almost demolished the out works of religion, of modesty, and of sober manners ;—so that, instead of any real marks of religion amongst us, you see thousands who are tired with carrying the mask of it, and have thrown it aside as a useless incumbrance. But this licentiousness, he’ll say, may be chiefly owing to a long course of prosperity, which is apt to corrupt mens minds.—God has since tried you with afflictions ;—you have had lately a bloody and expensive war God has sent, moreover, a pesti¬ lence amongst your cattle,— u which has cut off the “ stock from the fold, and left no herd in the stalls —besides,—you have just felt two dreadful shocks in your metropolis, of a most terrifying nature ;— which, if God’s providence had not checked and re¬ strained within some bounds, might have overthrown your capital, and your kingdom with it. Surely, he’ll say*—all these warnings must have awakened the consciences of the most unthinking part of you, and forced the inhabitants of your land, from such admonitions, to have learned righteous¬ ness—I own, this is the natural effect, and, one would hope, should always be the improvement from such calamities ;—for we often find, that num¬ bers of people, who in their prosperity seemed to forget God,—do yet remember him in the days of trouble and distress ;—yet, consider this nationally, —we see no such effect from it, as, in fact, one would expect from speculation. vol. v. m 254 SERMON XLV. For instance :—With all the devastation and bloodshed which the war has occasioned,—how ma¬ ny converts has it made either to virtue or frugali¬ ty ?—The pestilence amongst our cattle, though it has distressed, and utterly undone so many thou¬ sands,—yet what one visible alteration has it made in the course of our lives ? And though, one would imagine, that the neces¬ sary drains of taxes for the one, and the loss of rent and property from the other,—should, in some meas¬ ure, have withdrawn the means of gratifying our passions as we have done,—yet what appearance is there amongst us that it is so what one fashiona¬ ble folly or extravagance has been checked ?—Are not the same expenses of equipage, and furniture, and dress,—the same order of diversions, perpetu¬ ally returning, and as great luxury and epicurism of entertainments, as in the most prosperous condi¬ tion ?—So that, “ though the head is sick, and the “ -whole heart is faint,” we all affect to look well in the face, either as if nothing had happened, or we were ashamed to acknowledge the force and natural effects of the chastisements of God.—And if, from the effects which war and pestilence have had,—we may form a judgment of the moral effects which this last terror is likely to produce,—it is to be fear¬ ed, however we might be startled at first,—that the impressions will scarce last longer than the instan¬ taneous shock which occasioned them :—and I make no doubt,—should a man have courage to de¬ clare his opinion,—‘ That lie believed it was an in* 4 dication of God’s anger upon a corrupt genera- ‘ tion,’—that it would be great odds but he would be pitied for his weakness, or openly laughed at for his SERMON XLV. 255 superstition.—Or if, after such a declaration,—he was thought worth setting right in his mistake,—he would be informed,—that religion had nothing to do in explications of this kind :—that all such vio¬ lent vibrations of the earth were owing to subterra¬ neous caverns falling down of themselves, or being blown up by nitrous and sulphureous vapours rarifi- ed by heat ;—and that it was idle to bring in the Deity to untie the knot, when it came to be resolv¬ ed easily into natural causes.—Vain unthinking mortals !—as if natural causes were any thing else in the hands of God—but instruments which he can turn to work the purposes of his wili, either to re¬ ward or punish, as seems fitting to his infinite wis¬ dom. Thus no man repenteth him of his wickedness, saying,—What have l done ?—-but every one turn- eth to his course, as a horse rusheth into the battle. —To conclude —However we may under-rate it now, it is a maxim of eternal truth,—which both rea¬ sonings and all accounts from history confirm,—that the wickedness and corruption of a people will soon¬ er or later always bring on temporal mischiefs and calamities :—and can it be otherwise ?—for a vi- tious nation not only carries the seeds of destruction within, from the natural workings and course of things,—but it lays itself open to the whole force and injury of accidents from without ;—and I do venture to say,—there never was a nation or people fallen into troubles or decay,—but one might justly leave the same remark upon them which the sacred historian makes in the text, upon the misfortunes of the Israelites,—“ for so it was,—that they had (i sinned against the Lord their God.” 256 SERMON XLV. Let us, therefore, constantly bear in mind that conclusion of the sacred writer,—which I shall give you in his own beautiful and awful language :— “ But the Lord, who brought you up out of the c< land of Egypt, with great power and a stretch’d 44 out arm, him shall ye fear, and him shall ye wor- e< ship,—and to him shall ye do sacrifice.—And the “ statutes, and tho ordinances, and the command* “ ments he wrote for you, ye shall observe to do for- “ evermore.—The Lord your God ye shall fear ;—- u and lie shall deliver you out of the hand of all your " enemies.” Now to God the Father, fee. EN’D OF VOLUME V. AU?A °iS lOtftfcS/booOICiHf 1&1SI f '! __^__^^BOSTONCOLLEGE 3 9031 01375350 4 BOSTON COLLEGE LIBRARY UNIVERSITY HEIGHTS CHESTNUT HILL, MASS. Book) may be kept for two week* and may b- i*se*r8d for the same period, unless referred. Tiro cents a day it charged for each book kep< oWrriroe. If you cannot find what you want, ask th< Librarian who will be glad to help you. 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