0} /^-- // ^^^bGICAL SEMINARY, Princeton, N. J. case, ^-^'^^-^^A.|i Shelf, ^ Section Book, r^ ^ ■^i&^^s^ < / SERMONS ON SEVERAL SUBJECTS. SERMONS ON SEVERAL SUBJECTS, BY THE LATE REV. WILLIAM PALEY, D. D. SUBDEAN OF LINCOLN, PREBENDARY OF ST. PAUL'S AND RECTOR OF BISHOP WEARMOUTH. PHILADELPHIA: PRINTED FOR HOPKINS AND EARLE, No. 170, MARKET-STREET. Fry and Kammerer, Printers. 1808 9 ADVERTISEMENT. The author of these Sermons, by a codicil to his Will, declared as follows: — "If my life had been spared, it was my intention to have printed at Sunder^ land a Volume of Sermons — about 500 copies; and I had proceeded so far in the design as to have tran- scribed several Sermons for that purpose, which are in a parcel by themselves. There is also a parcel from which I intended to transcribe others; but the whole is in an unfinished state, the arrangement is not set- tled, and there are many things which might be omitted, and others which may be altered or consoli- dated." The codicil then goes on to direct, that, after such disposition should have been made re- specting the Manuscripts as might be deemed ne- cessary, they should be printed by the Rev. Mr. Ste- phenson, at the expense of the testator's executors, and distributed in the neighbourhood, first to those who frequented church, then to farmers' families in the country, then to such as had a person in the family who could read, and were likely to read them ; and finally, it is added, " I would not have the said Sermons published for sale." vi ADVERTISEMENT. In compliance with this direction, the following Sermons were selected, printed and distributed by the Rev. Mr. Stephenson, in and about the parish of Bishop Wearmouth, in the year 1806. These Discourses were not originally composed for publication, but were written for, and, as appears by the Manuscripts, had been preached at the Parish Churches of which, in different parts of the author's life, he had the care. It was undoubtedly the author's intention that they should not have been published ; but the circulation of such a number as he had directed by his will to be distributed, rendered it impossible to adhere to the other part of his direc- tion; and it was found necessary to publish them, as the only means of preventing a surreptitious sale. ■»-.^-'.- . - J' CONTENTS. SERMON I. Seriousness in Religion indispensable above all other Dispositions. Page. 1 Peter, iv. 7. Be ye therefore sober^ and watch unto /irai/er . . 17 SERMON II. The Love of God. 1 John, iv. 19. We love him, because hejirst loved us 37 SERMON III. Meditating upon Religion. Psalm Ixiii. 7. Have I not remembered thee in my bed; and thought upon thee nvhen I was waking? 49 SERMON IV. Of the State after Death. 1 John, iii. 2. Beloved, now are we the sons of God; and it doth not yet afip.ear what we shall be: but we know that when he sfiall afifiear, we shall be like him; for we shall see him as he i,o of Ids discifilesy and said unto him, art thou he tJiat should come, or do we look for another? 1 80 SERMON XVI. On Insensibility to Offences. Psalm xix. 12, 13. Who can tell how oft he offendeth? O cleanse thou me from my secret faults. Keep thy servant also from fire^ sumptuous sinsy lest they get the dominion over me 189 SERMON XVII. Seriousness of Disposition necessary. Luke, viii. 15. But that on the good ground are they, who in an honest and good hearty having heard the wordy keep ity and bring forth fruit ivith patience 197 CONTENTS. %i SERMON XVIII. The Efficacy of the death of Christ. (part I.) Hebrews, ix. 26. JVow once in the end of the world hath he ajijieav' ed to fxut away sin by the sacHJice of himself 206 SERMON XIX. All stand in need of a Redeemer. (part II.) Hebrews, ix. 26. Kowonce in the end of the world hath he af^fiear- ed to put aivay sin by the sacrifice of himself 214 SERMON XX. The Efficacy of the Death of Christ consistent with the Ne- cessity of a Good Life ; the one being the Cause, the other the Condition of Salvation. Romans, vi. 1. JVhat shall we say then? shall we continue in sin, that grace may abound? God forbid 223 SERMON XXI. Pure Religion. James, i. 27. J^ure religion, and undifiled before God and the Fa' ther is this, to visit the fatherless and widows in their affliction, and to keep, himself unspotted from the world 235 xii CONTENTS. SERMON XXII. The Agency of Jesus Christ since his Ascension. Hebrews, xiii. 8. Jesus Christ the same yesterday^ to day and for ever 244 SERMON XXIII. , Of Spiritual Influence in general. (part I.) I Corinthians, iii. 16. Know ye not that ye are the letnple of God^ and that the S/iirit of God divelleth in you? 260 SERMON XXIV. (part II.) 268 SERMON XXV. (part III.) 278 SERMON XXVI. Sin encountered by Spiritual Aid. (part I.) Romans, vii. 24. O nvretched man that I am.' who shall deliver me from the body of this death? 291 CONTENTS xiii SERMON XXVII. Evil Propensities encountered by the Aid of the Spirit. (part II.) Romans, vii. 24. O wretched jnan that I am! who shall deliver vie from the body of this death? 299 SERMON XXVIII. The Aid of the Spirit to be sought and preserved by Prayer. (part III.) Romans, vii. 24. O wretched man that I am! who shall deliver mr from the body of this death? 306 SERMON XXIX. The Destruction of the Canaanites. Joshua, X. 40. So Joshua smote all the country of the Mis, and of the south, and of the vale, caid of the s/irings, and all their kings: he left none remaining, but utterly destroyed all that breathed, as the hord God of Israel commanded 316 ^ SERMON XXX. Neglect of Warnings. Deuteronomy, xxxii. 29. that they were wise that they under- stood this; t/iat they would consider their latter end! 327 XIV CONTENTS. SERMON XXXI. The Terrors of the Lord. Matthew, xvi. 26. What is a man profited if he shall gain the whole world and lose his own soul? or what shall a man give in exchange for his soul? 335 SERMON XXXII. Preservation and Recovery from Sin. Titus, ii. 11. 12. jFor the grace of God that bringeth salvation hath apjieared unto all 7nen, teaching usy that denying ungodliness and worldly lusts, we should live soberly, righteously and godly in this present world 346 SERMON XXXIIL This Life a State of Probation. Psalm cxix. 7\. It is good for me that J have been afflicted, that I might learn thy statutes - . . 360 SERMON XXXIV. I'he Knowledge of one another in a future State. Colossians, i. 28. Whom we preach, warning every man, and teaching every man in all wisdom: that we may present every man perfect in Christ Jesus • • 370 CONTENTS. K\ SERMON XXXV. The General Resurrection. John, V. 28. 29. The hour is comings in the which all that are in the graves shall hear his voice^ and come forth; they that have done good unto the resurrection of life: and they that have done evily unto the resurrection of damnation 378 * SERMON I. SERIOUSNESS IN RELIGION A MOST INDISPENSA BLE DISPOSITION. 1 Peter, iv. 7. Be ye therefore sober, and watch unto prayer. The first requisite in religion is seriousness. No im- pression can be made without it. An orderly life, so far as others are able to observe, is now and then pro- duced by prudential motives or by dint of habit ; but without seriousness there can be no religious principle at the bottom, no course of conduct flowing from reli- gious motives; in a word, there can be no religion. This cannot exist without seriousness upon the sub- ject. Perhaps a teacher of religion has more difficulty in producing seriousness amongst his hearers, than in any other part of his office. Until he succeed in this, he loses his labor : and when once, from any cause what- ever, a spirit of levity has taken hold of a mind, it is next to impossible to plant serious considerations in. that mind. It is seldom to be done, except by some great shock or alarm, sufficient to make a radical change in the disposition; and which is God's own way of bringing about the business. C 18 SERMON I. One might have expected that events so awful and tremendous, as death and judgment; that a question so deeply interesting, as whether we shall go to heaven or to hell, could in no possible case, and in no constitution of mind whatever, fail of exciting the most serious ap- prehension and concern. But this is not so. — In a thoughtless, a careless, a sensual world, many are al- ways found, vvdio can resist, and who do resist the force and importance of all these reflections, that is to say, they suffer nothing of the kind to enter into their thoughts. There are grave men and women, nay, even middle aged persons, who have not thought seriously about religion an hour, nor a quarter of an hour in the whole course of their lives. This great object of human solicitude affects" not them in any manner whatever. It cannot be without its use to inquire into the causes of a levity of temper, which so effectually ob- structs the .admission of every religious influence, and which I should almost call unnatural. 1st. Now there is a numerous class of mankind, who are wrought upon by nothing but what applies imme- diately to their senses; by what they see or by what they feel ; by pleasures or pains, or by the near pros- pect of pleasures and pains which they actually expe- rience or actually observe. But it is the characteristic of religion to hold out to our consideration inquiries which we do not perceive at the time. That is its very ofiice and province. Therefore if men will restrict and confine all their regards and all their cares to things which they perceive with their outward senses; if they will yield SERMON r. 19 up their understandings to their senses both in what these senses ai-e fitted to apprehend, and in what they are not fitted to apprehend, it is utterly impossible for religion to settle in their hearts, or for them to enter- tain any serious concern about the matter. But surely this conduct is completely irrational, and can lead to nothing but ruin. It proceeds upon the supposition, that there is nothing above us, about us or future, by which we can be affected, but the thii.gs which we see with our eves or feel by our touch. All which is untrue. "The invisible things of God from the "Creation of the world are clearly seen, "being understood by the things that are "seen; even his eternal power and God- " head;" which means, that the order, contrivance and design, displayed in the Creation, prove with cer- tainty that there is more in Nature than what we really see; and that amongst the invisible things of the urn- verse there is a Being, the audior and origin of all this contrivance and design, and, by consequence, a Being of stupendous power, and wisdom and knowledge, incomparably exalted above any wisdom or knowledge, which we see in man, and that he stands in the same relation to us as the Maker does to the thing made. The things which are seen are not made of the thmgs which do appear. This is plain: and this argument is independent of scripture and revelation. What further moral or religious consequences properly follow from it is another question, but the proposition itself shows that they who cannot, and they who will not raise their minds above the mere information of their senses, are 20 SERMON L in a state of gross error as to the real truth of things, and are also in a state to which the faculties of man ought not to be degraded. A person of this sort may with respect to religion remain a child all his life. A child naturally has no concern but about the things which directly meet its senses ; and the person we describe is in the same condition. Again: There is a race of giddy thoughtless men and women, of young men and young women more especially, who look no further than the next day, the next week, the next month; seldom or ever so far as the next year. Present pleasure is every thing with them. The sports of the day, the amusements of the evening, en- tertainments and diversions occupy all their concern; and so long as these can be supplied in succession, so long as they go from one diversion to another, their minds remain in a state of perfect indifference to every thing, except their pleasures. Now what chance has religion with such dispositions as these? Yet these dis- positions begun in early life, and favoured by circum- stances, that is by affluence and health, cleave to a man's character much beyond the period of life in which they might seem to be excusable. Excusable did I say ; I ought rather to have said that they are contrary to reason and duty in every condition and at every period of life. Even in youth they are built upon falsehood and folly. Young persons, as well as old, find that things do actually come to pass. Evils and mis- SERMON I. 21 chiefs, which they regarded as distant, as out of their view, as beyond the line and reach of their prepara- tions or their concern, come they find to be actually felt. They find that nothing is done by slighting them be- forehand; for however neglected or despised, perhaps ridiculed and derided, they come not only to be things present, but the very things and the only things about which their anxiety is employed; become serious things indeed, as being the things which now make them wretched and miserable. Therefore a man must learn to be affected by events which appear to lie at some distance, before he will be seriously affected by religion. Again: The general course of education is much against religious seriousness, even without those who conduct education foreseeing or intending any such effect. Many of us are brought up with this world set before us and nothing else. Whatever promotes this world's prosperity is praised; whatever hurts and ob- structs and prejudices this w^orld's prosperity is blam- ed: and there all praise and censure end. We see mankind about us in motion and action, but all these motions and actions directed to worldly objects. We hear their conversation, but it is all the same way. And this is what we see and hear from the first. The views, which are continually placed before our eyes, regard this life alone and its interests. Can it then be wondered at that an early worldly mindedness is bred in our hearts, so strong as to shut out heavenly mind- edness entirely? In the contest which is always carry- 22 SERMON I. ing on between this world and the next, it is no difficult thing to see what advantage this world has. One of the greatest of these advantages is that it pre- occupies the mind; it gets the first hold and the first possession. Childhood and youth left to themselves are necessarily guided by sense; and sense is all on the side of this world. Meditation brings us to look towards a future life ; but then meditation comes afterwards; it only comes when the mind is already filled, and engaged, and occupied, nay, often crowded and surcharged with worldly ideas. It is not only therefore fair and right, but is absolutely necessary to give to religion all the advantage we can give it by dint of education ; for all that can be done is too little to set religion upon an equality with its rival ; which rival is the world. A crea- ture, which is to pass a small portion of its existence in one state, and that state to be preparatory to another, ought, no doubt, to have its attention constantly fixed upon its ulterior and permanent destination. And this would be so, if the question between them came fairly before the mind. We should listen to the scriptures; we should embrace religion; we should enter into every thing which had relation to the subject, with a concern and impression, even far more, than the pur- suits of this world, eager and ardent as they are, ex- cite. But the question between religion and the world does not come fairly before us. What surrounds us is SERMON I. 23 this world; what addresses our senses and our passions is this world; what is at hand; what is in contact witii us; what acts upon us, what we act upon is tliis world. Reason, faith and hope are the only principles to which religion applies, or possibly can apply: and it is religion, faith and hope striving with sense, striving with temptation, striving for things absent against things which are present. That religion therefore may not be quite excluded and overborne, may not quite sink under these powerful causes, every support ought to be given to it, which can be given by education, by instruction, and above all, by the example of those, to whom young persons look up, acting with a view to a future life themselves. Again: It is the nature of worldly business of all kinds, especially of much hurry or over-employment, or over-anxiety in business, to shut out and keep out religion from the mind. The question is, whether the state of mind, which this cause produces, ought to be called a want of seriousness in religion. It becomes coldness and indifference towards religion; but is it properly a want of seriousness upon the subject? I think it is; and in this way. We are never serious upon any matter which we regard as trifling. That is impos- sible. And we are led to regard a thing as trifling, which engages no portion of our habitual thoughts, iu comparison with what other things do. But further: The world, even in its innocent pur suits and pleasures, has a tendency unfavourable to the ^4 SERMON I. religious sentiment. But were these all it had to con- tend with, the strong application which religion makes to the thoughts, whenever we think of it at all; the strong interest which it presents to us, might enable it to overcome and prevail in the contest. But there is another adversary to oppose much more formidable ; and that is sensuality; an addiction to sen- sual pleasures. It is the flesh which lusteth AGAINST the spirit; that is the war which is waged within us. So it is, no matter what may be the Cause, that sen- sual indulgences, over and above their proper crimi- nality, as sins, as offences against God's commands, have a specific effect upon the heart of man in destroy- ing the religious principle within him; or sti}l more surely in preventing the formation of that principle. It either induces an open profaneness of conversation and behaviour, which scorns and contemns religion ; a kind of profligacy, which rejects and sets at nought the whole thing: or it brings upon the heart an averse- ness to the subject, a fixed dislike and reluctance to enter upon its concerns in any way whatever. That a resolved sinner should set himself against a religion, which tolerates no sin, is not to be wondered at. He is against religion, because religion is against the course of life upon which he has entered, and which he does not feel himself willing to give up. But this is not the whole, nor is it the bottom of the matter. The effect we allude to is not so reasoning or ai\gumentative as this. It SERMON 1. 25 is a specific effect upon the mind. The heart is rendered unsusceptible of religious impressions, incapable of a serious regard to religion : and this effect belongs to sins of sensuality more than to other sins. It is a conse- quence which almost universally follows from them. We measure the importance of things, not by what or according to what they are in truth, but by and accord- ing to the space and room which they occupy in our minds. Now our business, our trade, our schemes, our pursuits, our gains, our losses, our fortunes, pos- sessing so much of our minds, whether we regard the hours we expend in meditating upon them, or the ear- nestness with which we think about them; and religion possessing so little share of our thought either in time or earnestness; the consequence is, that worldly inter- est comes to be the serious thing with us; religion comparatively the trifle. Men of business are naturally serious; but all their seriousness is absorbed by their business. In religion they are no more serious than the most giddy characters are ; than those characters are which betrav levitv in all thincrs. Again: The want of due seriousness in religion is almost sure to be the consequence of the absence or disuse of religious ordinances and exercises. I use two terms; "absence" and "disuse." Some have never attended upon any religious ordinances, or practised any religious exercises, since the time they were born; some a very few times in their lives. With these it is the "absence" of religious ordinances and exercises.. D 26 SERMON J. There arc others, (and many we fear of this descrip- tion) who, whilst under the guidance of their parents, have frequented religious ordinances, and been trained up to religious exercises, but who, when they came into more public life, and to be their own masters, and to mix in the pleasures of the world, or to engage themselves in its business and pursuits, have forsaken these duties in whole or in a great degree. With these it is the "disuse" of religious ordinances and exercises. But I must also explain what I mean by " religious or- " dinances and exercises." By " religious ordinances" I mean the being instructed in our catechism in our 3^outh, attending upon public worship at church, the keeping holy the Lord's day regularly and most par- ticularly, together with a few other days in the year, by which some very principal events and passages ol the christian history are commemorated, and at its pro- per season the more solemn office of receiving the Lord's Supper. These are so many rites and ordi- nances of Christianity; concerning all which it may be said, that with the greater part of mankind, especially of that class of mankind, which must or does give much of its time and care to worldly concerns, they arc little less than absolutely necessar}'; if we judge it to be necessary to maintain and uphold any sentiment, an) impression, any seriousness about religion in the mind at all. They are necessary to preserve in the thoughts a place for the subject; they are necessary that the train of our thoughts may not even be closed up against it. Were all days of the week alike and em SERMON I. 27 ployed alike; was there no difference or distinction between Sunday and work da} ; was there not a church in the nation; \\'ere we never from one }car end to ano- ther called together to participate in public worship; ^vere there no set forms of public worship; no par- ticular persons appointed to minister and officiate, in- deed no assemblies for public worship at all; no joint prayers; no preaching; still religion, in itself, in its reality and importance; in its end and event, would be the same thing as M'hat it is; we should still have to account for our conduct; there would still be heaven and hell; salvation and perdition; there would still be the laws of God both natural and revealed; all the ob- ligation which the authority of a Creator can impose upon a creature ; all the gratitude which is due from a rational being to the Author and Giver of every bless- ing which he enjoys; lastly, there would still be the redemption of the world by Jesus Christ. All these things would, with or without religious ordinances, be equally real and existing and valid; but men would not think equally about them. Many would entirely and totally neglect them. Some there would always be of a more devout, or serious, or contemplative dispo- sition, who would retain a lively sense of these things under all circumstances and all disadvantages, who would never lose their veneration for them, never for- get them. But from others; from the careless, the busy, the followers of pleasure, the pursuers of wealth or ad- vancement, these things would slip away from the thoughts entirely. ^g SERMON 1. Together with religious "ordinances" we mentioned rehgious "exercises." By the term religious "exer- cises" I in particular mean private prayer; whether it be at set times, as in the morning and evening of each day, or whether it be called forth by occasions, as when we are to form some momentous decision, or enter upon some great undertaking; or when we are under some pressing difficulty or deep distress, some excru- ciating bodily pain, or heavy affliction; or on the other hand, and no less properly, when we have lately been receiving some signal benefit, experiencing some sig- nal mercy; such as preservation from danger, relief from difficulty or distress, abatement of pain, recovery from sickness: for by prayer let it be observed we mean devotion in general; and thanksgiving is devo- tion as much as prayer itself. I mean private prayer, as here described, and I also mean, what is perhaps the most natural form of private prayer, short ejacula- tory extemporaneous addresses to God, as often as either the reflections which rise up in our minds, let them come from what quarter they may, or the object and incidents which seize our attention, prompt us to utter them; which, in a religiously disposed mind, will be the case, Imay say, every hour, and which ejaculation may be offered up to God in any posture, in any place or in any situation. Amongst religious exercises I also reckon family prayer, which unites many of the uses both of public worship and private prayer. The reading of religious books is likewise to be accounted a religious exercise. Religious medita- tion still more so; and more so for this reason, that it implies rind includes that most important duty self- examination; for I hold it to be next to impossible for a man to meditate upon religion without meditating at the same time upon his own present condition with respect to the tremendous alternative which is to take place upon him after his death. These arc what we understand by religious exer- cises; and they are all so far of the same nature with religious ordinances, that they are aids and helps of religion itself; and I think that religious seriousness cannot be maintained in the soul without them. But again: A cause which has a strong tendency to destroy religious seiiousness, and which almost infal- libly prevents its formation and growth in young minds, is levity in conversation upon religious subjects, or upon subjects connected with religion. Whether we regard the practice with regard to those who use it, or to those who hear it, it is highly to be blamed, and is productive of great mischief. In those who use it, it amounts almost to a proof that they are desti tute of religious seriousness. The principle itself is destroyed in them, or was never formed in them. tJpon those who hear, its effect is this. If they have concern about religion, and the disposition towards religion, which they ought to have, and which we signify by this word seriousness, they will be in- wardly shocked and offended by the levity with which they hear it treated. Tliey will, as it were, resent the treatment of a subject, which by others has al- 30 SERMON I. ways been thought upon with awe and dread and ve- neration. But the pain with which they were at first affected goes off by hearing frequently the same sort of language; and then will be almost sure, if they ex- amine the state of their minds as to religion, to feel a change in themselves for the worse. This is the dan- ger to which those are exposed, who had before im- bibed serious impressions. Those who had not will be prevented by such sort of conversation from ever imbibing them at all; so that its influence is in all cases pernicious. The turn which this levity usually takes, is in jests and raillery upon the opinions, or the peculiarities, or the persons of those, who happen to be more serious than ourselves. But against whomsoever it happens to be pointed, it has the bad effects both upon the speaker and the hearer which we have noticed. It tends to de- stroy our own seriousness, together with the serious- ness of those who hear or join in such sort of conver- sation; especially if they be young persons: and I am persuaded, that much mischief is actually done in this way. It has been objected, that so much regard, or, as the objectors would call it, over-regard for religion, is in- consistent with the interest and welfare of our families, and with success and prosperity in our worldly affairs. I believe that there is very little ground for this ob- jection in fact, and even as th^ world goes; in reason and principle there is none. A good christian divides SERMON I. 31 his time between the duties of rehgion, the ealls of business, and those quiet relaxations which may be innocently allowed to his circumstances and condition, and which will be chiefly in his family or amongst a few friends. In this plan of life there is no confusion or interference in its parts ; and unless a man be given to sloth and laziness, which are what religion con- demns, he will find time enough for them all. This calm system may not be sufficient for that unceasing eagerness, hurry and anxiety about worldly affairs, in which some men pass their lives, but it is sufficient for every thing which reasonable prudence requires: it is perfectly consistent with usefulness in our sta- tions, which is a main point. .Indeed, compare the hours which serious persons spend in religious exer- eises and meditations, with the hours which the thoughtless and irreligious spend in idleness and vice and expensive diversions, and you will perceive on which side of the comparison the advantage lies even in this view of the subject. Nor is there any thing in the nature of religion to support the objection. In a certain sense it is true, what has been sometimes said, that religion ought to be the rule of life, not the business: by which is meant that the subject matter even of religious duties lies in the common affairs and transactions of the w^orld; diligence in our calling is an example of this; which, however, keeps both our heads and hands at work merely upon business merely temporal, yet :^2 SERMON I. religion may be governing us here meanwhile; God may be feared in the busiest scenes. In addition to the above there exists another pre- judice against religious seriousness arising from a notion very commonly entertained, viz. that religion leads to gloom and melancholy. This notion, I am convinced, is a mistake. Some persons are constitu- tionally subject to melancholy, which is as much a disease in them as the ague is a disease; and it may happen that such men's melancholy may fall upon re- ligious ideas, as it may upon any other subject which seizes their distempered imagination. But this is not i*eligion leading to melancholy : or it sometimes is the case, that men are brought to a sense of religion by calamity and affliction, which produce at the same time depression of spirits. But neither here is religion the cause of this distress or dejection, or to be blamed for it. These cases being excepted, the very reverse of what is alleged against religion is the truth. No man's spirtis were ever hurt by doing his duty. On the contrary, one good action, one temptation resisted and overcome, one sacrifice of desire or interest, purely for conscience sake, will prove a cordial for weak and low spirits beyond what either indulgence or diversion or company can do for them. And a suc- cession and course of such actions and self denials, springing from a religious principle and manfully maintained, is the best possible course that can be followed as a remedy for sinkings and o5)pressions of this kind. Can it then be true that religion leads to SERMON I. 35 melancholy? Occasions rise to every man living; to many very severe as well as repeated occasions, in which the hopes of religion are the only stay that is left him. Godly men have that within them which cheers and comforts them in their saddest hours; un- godly men have that which strikes their heart like a dagger, in their gayest moments. Godly men discover, what is very true, but what, by most men, is found out too late, namely, that a good conscience, and the hope of our Creator's final favour and acceptance are the only solid happiness to be attained in this world. Experience corresponds with the reason of the thing. I take upon me to say that religious men are generally cheerful. If' this be not observed, as might be ex- pected, supposing it to be true, it is because the cheerfulness which religion inspires does not shoM itself in noise, or in fits and starts of merriment, but is calm and constant. Of this the only true and valu- able kind of cheerfulness, for all other kinds are hollow and unsatisfying, religious men possess not less but a greater share than others. Another destroyer of religious seriousness, and which is the last I shall mention, is a certain fatal turn which some minds take, namely, that when they find difficulties in or concerning religion, or any of the tenets of religion, they forthwith plunge into irreli- gion; and make these difficulties, or any degree of imcertainty, which seems to their apprehension to hang over the subject, a ground and occasion for giv- ing full liberty to their inclinations, and for casting off E 34 bERMON I. the restraints of religion entirely. This is the case with men, Avho, at the best perhaps, were only balancing between the sanctions of religion and the love of plea- sure or of mijiist gain; but especially the former. In this precarious state, any objection, or appearance of objection, which diminishes the force of religious im- pression, determines the balance against the side of virtue, and gives up the doubts to sensuality, to the world and to the flesh. Now of all ways which a man can take, this is the surest way to destruction. And it is completely irrational ; for when we meditate upon the tremendous consequences which form the subject of religion, we cannot avoid this reflection, that any degree of possibility whatever, of religion being true, ought to determine a rational creature so to act as to secure himself from punishment in a future state ; and the loss of that happiness which may be attained. Therefore he has no pretence for alleging uncertainty as an excuse for his conduct, because he does not act in conformity with that in which there is no uncer- tainty at all. In the next place, it is giving to apparent difliculties more weight than they are entitled to. I only request any man to consider, first, the necessary allowances to be made for the short-sightedness and the weakness of the human understanding; secondly, the nature of those subjects concerning which religion treats, so remote from our senses, so different from our experience, so above and beyond the ordinary train and course of our ideas; and then say, whether diflSculties, and great difficulties also, were not to be expected; nay further, whether they be not in some SERMON I. 35 measure subservient to the very purpose of religion. The reward of everlasting life, and the punishment of misery of which we know no end, if they were present and immediate, could not be withstood; and would not leave any room for liberty or choice. But this sort offeree upon the will is not what God designed; nor is suitable indeed to the nature of free, moral, and ac- countable agents. The truth is, and it was most likely beforehand that it would be so, that amidst some points which are dark, some which are dubious, there are many which are clear and certain. Now, I appre- hend, that, if we act faithfully up to those points con- cerning which there is no question, most especially, if we determine upon and choose our rule and course of life according to those principles of choice, which all men whatever allow to be wise and safe principles, and the only principles which are so; and conduct ourselves steadfastly according to the rule thus chosen, the difficulties which remain in religion will not move or disturb us much; and will, as we proceed, become gradually less and fewer. Whereas, if we begin with objections; if all we consider about religion be its difficulties: but most especially, if we permit the sug- gestion of these difficulties to dri\e us into a practical rejection of religion itself, and to afford us, which is what we wanted, an excuse to ourselves for casting off its restraints; then the event will be, that its diffi- culties will multiply upon us; its light grow more and more dim, and we shall settle in the worst and most hopeless of all conditions, the last condition, I will venture to say, in which any man living would wish 30 SERMON I. liis son, or any one whom he loved, and for wliose happiness he was anxious, to be placed, a life of con- firmed vice and dissoluteness; founded in a formal renunciation of religion. He that has to preach Christianity to persons in this btate has to preach to stones. He must not expect to be heard, either with complacency or seriousness, or patience, or even to escape contempt and derision. Habits of thinking are fixed by habits of acting; and both too solidly fixed to be moved by human persua- sion. God in his mercy, and by his providences, as well as by his Spirit, can touch and soften the heart of stone. And it is seldom perhaps that without some stiong, and, it may be, sudden impressions of this kind, and from this source, serious sentiments ever penetrate dispositions, hardened in the manner which we have here described. SERMON IT. THE LOVE OF GOD. 1 John, iv. 19. JVe love him, because he first loved us. Religion may, and it can hardly I think be queb- tioned but that it sometimes does, spring from terror, from grief, from pain, from punishment, from the ap- proach of death; and provided it be sincere, that is, such as either actually produces, or as would produce a change of life, it is genuine religion, notwithstanding the bitterness, the violence, or if it must be so called, the baseness and unworthiness of the motive from which it proceeds. We are not to narrow the promises of God: and acceptance is promised to sincere peni- tence, without specifying the cause from which it ori- ginates, or confining it to one origin more than another. There are however higher and worthier and better motives, from which religion may begin in the heart; and on this account especially arc they to be deemed better motives, that the religion, which issues from them, has a greater probability of being sincere. I re- peat again, that sincere religion from any motive will 38 SERMON IJ. be effectual ; but there is a great deal of difterence in the probability of its being sincere, according to the different cause in the mind from which it sets out. The purest motive of human action is the love ol God. There may be motives stronger and more gene- ral, but none so pure. The religion, the virtue, which owes its birth in the soul to this motive, is always genuine religion; always true virtue. Indeed, speak- ing of religion, I should call the love of God not so much the groundwork of religion, as religion itself. So far as religion is disposition, it is religion itself. But though of religion it be more than the ground- work ; yet being a disposition of mind, like other dis- positions, it is the groundwork of action. Well might our blessed Saviour preach, as he did, the love of God. It is the source of every thing which is good in man. I do not mean that it is the only source, or that good- ness can proceed from no other, but that of all prin- ciples of conduct it is the safest, the best, the truest, the highest. Perhaps it is peculiar to the Jewish and Christian dispensations, (and, if it be, it is a peculiar excellency in them) to have formally and solemnly laid down this principle, as a ground of human action. I shall not deny, that elevated notions were entertained of the Deity by some wise and excellent heathens; but even these did not, that I can find, so inculcate the love of that Deity, or so propose and state it to their followers, as to make it a governing, actuating princi- ple of life amongst them. This did Moses or rather God by the mouth of Moses, expressly, formally. SERMON II. 39 solemnly. This did Christ, ad(3pting, repeating, ratify- ing what the law had already declared; and not only ratifying, but singling it out from the body of pre- cepts, which composed the old institution, and giving it a preeminence to every other. Now this love, so important to our religious cha- racter, and, by its effect upon that, to our salvation, which is the end of religion; this love, I say, is to be engendered in the soul, nOt so much by hearing the words of others, or by instruction from others, as by a secret and habitual contemplation of God Almighty's bounty, and by a constant referring of our enjoyments and our hopes to his goodness. This is in a great de- gree a matter of habit; and, like all good habits, par- ticularly mental habits, is what every person must form in himself and for himself by endeavour and perseverance. In this great article, as well as in others which arc less, every man must be the author to him- self of his train of thinking, be it good or bad. I shall only observe that when this habit, or, as some would call it, this turn and course of thought is once happily generated, occasions will continually arise to minister to its exercise and augmentation. A night's rest, or a comfortable meal, will immediately direct our gratl tude to God. The use of our limbs, the possession of our senses; every degree of health, every hour of ease, every sort of satisfaction, which we enjoy, will carry our thoughts to the same object. But if our enjoyments raise our affections, still more will our hopes do the same; and, most of all beyond compa- 4Q SERMOiN II. rison, those hopes which reHgion inspires. Think of man; and think of heaven; think what he is, and what it is in his power hereafter to become. Think of this again and again: and it is impossible, but that the propect of being so rewarded for our poor labours, so resting from our past troubles, so forgiven for our re- pented sins, must fill our hearts with the deepest thank- fulness; and thankfulness is love. Towards the author of an obligation which is infinite, thankfulness is the only species of love that can exist. But moreover, the love of God is specifically repre- sented in scripture as one of the gifts of the Holy Ghost. The love of God shed abroad in the heart, is described as one of the works of the Spirit upon the souls of christians. Now whatever is represented in scripture to be the gift of the Spirit is to be sought for by earnest and peculiar prayer. That is the prac- tical use to be made of, and the practical consequence to be drawn from such representations : the very pur- pose probably for which they were delivered ; the mere point of doctrine being seldom that in which scripture declarations rest. Let us not fail therefore; let us not cease to intreat the Father of mercies, that the love of him may be shed abroad in our hearts continually. It is one of the things in which we are sure, that our prayers are right in their object; in which also we may humbly hope, that, unless obstructed by ourselves, thcv will not be in vain. SERMON II. 41 Nor let it be said that this aid is superfluous, for as much as natufe herself had provided suflicient means for exciting this sentiment. This is true with respect to those, who are in the full, or in any thing near the full, enjoyment of the gifts of nature. With them I do allow that nothing but a criminal stupefaction can hinder the love of God from being felt. But this is not the case with all; rior with any at all times. Afflictions, sick- ness, poverty, the maladies and misfortunes of life, will interrupt and damp this sensation, so far as it de- pends upon our actual experience of God's bounty. I do not say that the evils of life ought to have this effect: taken in connexion with a future state they certainly ought not; because, when viewed in that re- lation, afflictions and calamities become trials, warn- ings, chastisements; and, when sanctified by their fruits, when made the means of weaning us from the world, bringing us nearer to God, and of purging away that dross and defilement which our souls have contracted, are in truth amongst the first of favours and of blessings: nevertheless, as an Apostle himself con- fesses, they are for a season grievous: they are dis- heartening: and they are too apt to produce an unfavour- able effect upon our gratitude. Wherefore it is upon these occasions most especially, that the aid of God's Spirit may be required to maintain in our souls the love of God. Let those therefore, who are conscious to themselves that they have not the love of God within them, as they ought to have it, endeavour to acquire and to ijicreasjc F 42 SERMON 11. this holy principle by seriousness of mind, by habitual meditation, by devout reading, devouf conversation, devout society. These are all aids and helps towards inducing upon the mind this most desirable, nay, rather let me call it, this blessed frame and temper, and of fixing us in it : and for as much as it is declared in scripture to be shed abroad in the heart by the Spirit of God, let us labour in our prayers for this best gift- The next consideration upon the subject is the fruit and effect of this disposition upon our lives. If it be asked how does the love of God operate in the produc- tion of virtuous conduct, I shall answer, that it ope- rates exactly in the same manner as affection towards a parent or gratitude towards a human benefactor operates, by stirring up a strong rebuke in the mind upon the thought of offending him. This lays a con- stant check upon our conduct. And this sensation is the necessary accompaniment of love; it cannot, I think, be separated from it. But it is not the whole of its influence. Love and gratitude towards a benefactor not only fill us with remorse and with internal shame whenever, by our wilful misbehaviour, we have given cause to that benefactor to be displeased with us; but also prompt us with a desire upon all occasions of doing what we believe he wills to be done, which, with re- spect to God, is in other cases a desire to serve him. Now this is not only a restraint from vice, but an incite- ment to action. Instructed as in christian countries mankind generally are, in the main articles of human duty, this motive will seldom mislead them. SERMON II. 4S In one important respect the love of God excels all moral principles whatever; and that is in its compre- hensiveness. It reaches ever\' action : it includes every duty; you cannot mention another moral principle which has this property in the same perfection. For instance, I can hai'dly name a better moral principle than humanity. It is a principle which every one com- mends, and justly: }-et in this very article of compre- hensiveness it is deficient, when compared with the love of God. It w ill prompt us undoubtedly to do kind and generous and compassionate things towards our friends, our acquaintance, our neighbours and towards tlie poor. In our relation to, and in our intercourse with mankind, especially towards those who are de- pendent upon us, or over whom we have power, it will keep us from hardness and rigor and cruelty. In all this it is excellent. But it will not regulate us, as we require to be regulated, in another great branch of christian duty, self-government and self-restraint. We may be exceedingly immoral and licentious in sinful indulgences without violating our principles of huma- nity; at least without specifically violating it, and with- out being sensible of violating it. And this is by no means an uncommon case or character, namely, huma- nity of temper subsisting along with the most criminal licentiousness, and under a total want of personal self- government. The reason is, that the principle of con- duct, though excellent as far as it goes, fails in compre- hensiveaess. Not so with the love of God. He, who is influenced by that, feels its influence in all parts of 44 SERMON 11. duty, upon every occasion of action; throughout the whole course of conduct. The thing with most of us to be examined into and ascertained is, whether it indeed guide us at all : whe- ther it be within us an efficient motive. I am far from taking upon me to say that it is essential to this prin- ciple to exclude all other principles of conduct, espe- cially the dread of God's wrath and of its tremendous consequences : or that a person, who is deterred from evil actions by the dread of God's wrath, is obliged to conclude, that because he so much dreads God, he cannot love him. I will not venture to say any such thing. The scripture, it is true, speaking of the love of God, hath said, that perfect love casteth out fear, but it hath not said that in the soul of man this love is ever perfect, what the scripture has thus declared of perfect love is no more than what is just. The love of God, were it perfect, that is to say, were it such as his nature, his relation, his bounty to us deserves, were it adequate either to its object or to our obligation, were it carried up as high as in a perfectly virtuous and ra- tional soul it might be carried, would, I believe, absorb every other motive and every other principle of action whatever, even the fear of God amongst the rest. This principle, by its nature, ?night gain a complete pos- session of the heart and will, so that a person acting under its influence would take nothing else into the account, would reflect upon no other consequence or consideration whatever. Possibly, nay probably, this SERMON 11. 45 IS the condition of some higher orders of spirits, and may become ours by future improvement and in a more exalted state of existence: but it cannot, I am afraid, be said to be our condition now. The love of God subsists in the heart of good men as a powerful principle of action: but it subsists there in conjunc- tion with other principles, especially with the fear of him. All goodness is in a certain degree comparative, and, I think, that he may be called a good man in whom this principle dwells and operates at all. Where- fore to obtain; when obtained, to cultivate, to cherish, to strengthen, to improve it, ought to form the most anxious concern of our spiritual life. He that loveth God keepeth his commandments, but still the love of God is something more than keeping the command- ments: for which reason we must acquire, what many it is to be feared, have even yet to begin, a habit of contemplating God in the bounties and blessings of his creation. I think that religion can hardly subsist in the soul without this habit in some degree. But the greater part of us, such is the natural dulness of our souls, require something more exciting and stimu- lating than the sensations which large and general views of nature or of providence produce; something more particular to ourselves, and which more nearly touches our separate happiness. Now of examples of this kind, namely, of direct and special mercies towards himself, no one, who calls to mind the passages and providences of his life, can be destitute. There is one topic of gra- titude falling under this head which almost every man, 46 SERiMON 11. who is tolerably faithful and exact in his reflections, - will find in events upon which he has to look back; and it is this. How often have we been spared, when we might have been overtaken and cut off in the midst of sin? Of all the attributes of God, forbearance, per- haps, is that which we have most to acknowledge. We cannot want occasions to bring the remembrance of it to our thoughts. Have there not been occasions, in which, when insnared in vice, we might have been detected and exposed, have been crushed by punish- ment or shame, have been irrecoverably ruined? oc- casions in which we might have been suddenly stricken with death in a state of soul the most unfit for it that was possible? That we were none of these, that we have been preserved from these dangers, that our sin was not our destruction, that instant judgment did not overtake us, is to be attributed to the long suffering of - God. Supposing, what is undoubtedly true, that the secrets of our conduct were known to him at the time, it can be attributed to no other cause. Now this is a topic which can never fail to supply subjects of thank- fulness, and of a species of thankfulness which must bear with direct force upon the regulation of our con- duct. We were not destroyed when we might have been destroyed, and when we merited destruction. We have been preserved for further trial. This is, or ought to be, a touching reflection. How deeply there- fore does it behove us not to trifle with the patience of God, not to abuse this enlarged space, this respited, protracted season of repentance, by plunging afresh SERMON II. 47 into the same crimes, or others, or greater crimes? It shows that we arc not to be wrought upon by mere)-; that our gratitude is not moved; that things are wrong within us; that there is a deplorable void and chasm in our religious principles, the love of God not being present in our hearts. But to return to that with which we set out. Religion may spring from various principles, begin in various motives. It is not for us to narrow the promises ot God which belong to sincere religion, from whatever cause it originates. But of these principles, the purest, the surest, is the love of God, forasmuch as the religion which proceeds from it is sincere, constant, and uni- versal. It will not, like fits of terror and alarm, (which yet we do not despise) produce a temporary religion. The love of God is an abiding principle. It will not, like some other, (and these also good and laudable prin- ciples of action, as far as they go,) produce a partial re- ligion. It is coextensive with all our obligations. Prac- tical Christianity may be comprised in three words, de- votion, self-government, and benevolence. The love of God in the heart is a fountain, from which these three streams of virtue will not fail to issue. The love of God also is a guard against error in conduct, because it is a guard against those evil influences which mis- lead the understanding in moral questions. In some measure it supplies the place of every rule. He, who has it truly within him, has little to learn. Look sted- fastly to the will of God, which he who loves God nc- 48 SERMON II. cessarily does, practise what you believe to be welJl pleasing to him, leave off what you believe to be dis- pleasing to him ; cherish, confirm, strengthen the prin- ciple itself, which sustains this course of external con- duct, and you will not want many lessons, you need not listen to any other monitor. SERMON ill. MEDITATING UPON RELIGION. Psalm Ixiii. 7. Have I not remembered thee in my bed : and thought upon thee when I was xvaking? The life of God in the soul of man, as it is some times emphatically called, the Christian life, that is, or the progress of Christianity in the heart of any particu- lar person, is marked, amongst other things, by reli- gion gradually gaining possession of the thoughts. It has been said, that, if we tliought about religion as it deserved, we should never think about any thing else; nor with strictness perhaps can we deny the truth of this proposition. Religious concerns do so surpass and outweigh in value and importance all concerns beside, that, did they occupy a place in our minds proportion- ed to that importance, they would in truth exclude every other but themselves. I am not therefore one of those who wonder \\ hen I see a man engrossed with religion; the wonder with me is, that men care and think so little concerning it. With all the allowances which must be made for our employments, our activi- G 50 SERMON Hi ties, our anxieties about the interests and occurrences of the present life, it is still true, that our forgetfulness and negligence and indifference about religion are much greater than can be excused, or can easily be accounted for, by these causes. Few men are so busy, but that they contrive to find time for any gratification their heart is set upon, and thought for any subject in which they are interested : they want not leisure for these, though they want leisure for religion. Notwith- standing therefore singular cases, if indeed there be any cases, of being over religious, over- intent upon spiritual affairs, the real and true complaint is all on the other side, that men think not about them enough, as they ought, as is reasonable, as it is their duty to do. That is the malady and the mischief. The cast and turn of our infirm and fleshly nature lean all on that side. For first this nature is affected chiefly by what we see; though the things which concern us most deeply be not seen; for this very reason, that they are not seen, they do not affect us as they ought. Though these things ought to be meditated upon, and must be acted upon, one way or other, long before we come actually to ex- perience them,' y^t'in fact we do not meditate upon them, we do not act with a view to them, till something gives us alarm, gives reason to believe that they are ap- proaching fast upon us, that they are at hand, or short- ly will be, that we shall indeed experience what they are. I'he world of spirits, the world for which we are destined, is invisible to us. Hear St. Paul's account of this matter; '' we look not at the things which are seen, but at the things which are not seen, for the things SERMON III. 51 which are seen arc temporal, but the things which are not seen are eternal." "We walk by faith ncit by sight: faith is the evidence of things not seen." Some great invisible agent there must be in the universe; "the things which were seen were not made of things which do appear." Now if the great Author of all things be himself invisible to our senses, and if our relation to him must necessarily form the greatest interest and concern of our existence, then it follows, that our greatest interest and concern are with those things which are now invisible. " VV'e are saved by hope, but hope that is seen is not hope: for what a man seeth, why doth he yet hope for, but if ^ve hope for that we see not, then do we with patience wait for it." The first infirmity therefore, which relitrion has to conquer with- in us, is that which binds down our attention to the things which we see. The natural man is immersed in sense: nothing takes hold of his mind but what applies immediately to his sense; but this disposition will not do for religion : the religious character is founded in hope as contra-distinguished from experience, in per- ceiving by the mind what is not perceived by the eye; unless a man can do this, he cannot be religious : and with many it is a great difficulty. This power of hope, which as St. Paul observes of it, is that which places the invisible world before our view, is- specifically de- scribed in scripture, as amongst the gifts of the Spirit, the natural man staiiding indeed much in need of it, being altogether of an opposite tendency. Hear St. Paul's prayer for his Roman converts: "The God of hope fill you with all joy and peace in believing, that 52 SERMON 111. you may abound in hope through the power of the Holy Ghost." Again to the Galatians, how does he describe the state of mind of a Christian? " we through die Spirit wait for the hope of righteousness by faith." Again: Anotlier impediment to the thought of reli- gion is the faculty and the habit we have acquired of regarding its concerns as at a distance. A child is af- fected by nothing but what is present, and many thou- sands in this respect continue children all their lives; in a degree this weakness cleaves to us all, or produces upon us the same effect under a different form, namely, in this way, when we find ourselves necessarily dis- turbed by near or approaching evil, we have the means of forgetting the nearness or the approach of that, which must bring with it the greatest evil or the great- est good we are capable of, our change at death. Though we cannot exactly offer any arguments to show that it is either certainly or probably at a dis- tance, yet we have the means of regarding it in our minds as though it were at a distance; and this even in cases in which it cannot possibly be so. Do we pre- pare for it? no; why? because we practically regard it in our imaginations as at a distance : we cannot prove that it is at a distance : nay, the contrary may be proved against us: but still we regard it so m our imaginations, and regard it so practically; for imagination is with most men the practical principle. But however strong and general this delusion be, has it any foundation in reason? Can that be thought at a distance which may come to-morrow, which must come in a few years? In SERMON III. 53 a very few years to most of us, in a few years to all it will be fixed and decided, whether we are to be in heaven or hell; yet we go on without thinking of it. without preparing for it, and it is exceedingly observ- able, that it is only in religion we thus put away the thought from us. In the settlement of our wordly affairs after our deaths, which exactly depend upon the same event, commence at the same time, are equally distant, if either were distant, equally liable to uncertainty, as to when the disposition will take place, in these, I say, men are not usually negligent, or think that by reason of its distance it can be neglected, or by reason of the uncertainty when it may happen, left unprovided for. This is a flagrant inconsistency, and proves decisively that religion possesses a small portion of our concern, in proportion with what it ought to do. For instead of giving to it that superiority which is due to immortal concerns, above those which are transitory, perishable and perishing, it is not even put upon an equality with them; nor with those, which, in respect to time, and the uncertainty of time, are under the same circum- stances with itself Thirdly: The spiritual character of religion is an other great impediment to its entering our thoughts. All religion, which is effectual, is and must be spiri- tual. Offices and ordinances are the handmaids and instruments of the spiritual religion, calculated to generate, to promote, to maintain, to uphold it in the heart, but the thing itself is purely spirituaJ. Now the flesh weigheth down the spirit, as with a load and bur- 54 SERMON III. den. It is difficult to rouse the human constitution to a sense and perception of what is purely spiritual. They who are addicted, not only to vice, but to gratifica- tions and pleasures; they who know no other rule than to go with the crowd in their career of dissipation and amusement; they whose attentions are all fixed and engrossed by business, whose minds from morning to night are counting and computing; the weak and fool- ish and stupid; lastly, which comprehends a class of mankind deplorably numerous, the indolent and sloth- ful; none of these can bring themselves to meditate upon religion. The last class slumber over its interests and concerns ; perhaps they cannot be said to forget it absolutely, but they slumber over the subject, in which state nothing as to their salvation gets done, no decision, no practice. There are, therefore, we see, various obstacles and infirmities in our constitutions, which obstruct the reception of religious ideas in our mind, still more such a voluntary entertainment of them, as may bring forth fruit. It ought therefore to be our constant prayer to God, that he will open our hearts to the influence of his word, by which is meant that he will so quicken and actuate the sensibility and vigor of our minds, as to enable us to attend to the things, which really and trulv belong to our peace. So soon as religion gains that hold and that posses- sion of the heart, which it must do to become the means of our salvation, things change within us, as in many other respects, so especially in this. We think a great deal more frequently about it, we think of it SERMON III. 55 for a longer continuance, and our thoughts of it have much more of vivacity and impressiveness. First, We begin to think of religion more frequently than we did. Heretofore we never thought of it at all, ex- cept Tvhen some melancholy incident had sunk our spirits, or had terrified our apprehensions; it was either from lowness or from fris:ht that we thousrht of reli- gion at all. Whilst things went smoothly and prosper- ously and gaily with us, whilst all was well and safe in our health and circumstances, religion was the last thing we wished to turn our minds to: we did not want to have our pleasure disturbed l)y it. But it is not so with us now: there is a change in our minds in this respect. It enters our thoughts very often, both by day and by night, " Have I not remembered thee in my bed, and thought upon thee when I was wak- ing?" This change is one of the prognosticati-.n- of the religious principle forming within us. Sec -iV.iy, These thoughts settle themselves upon our mir.<'s. They were formerly fleeting and transitory, as the cloud which passes along the sky ; and they were so for two reasons: first, they found no congenial temper and disposition to rest upon, no seriousness, no pos- ture of mind proper for their reception ; and secondly, because we of our own accord, by a positive exertion and endeavour of our will, put them away from us, we disliked their presence, we rejected and cast them out. Bat it is not so now: we entertain and retain religious meditations, as being in fact those nhich concern us most deeply. I do not sj)eak of the solid comfort "U'hich is to be found in thera, because that belongs to 56 SERMON Ifl. a more advanced state of christian life than I am now considering: that will come afterwards; and, when it does come, will form the support and consolation and happiness of our lives. But whilst the religious prin- ciple is forming, at least during the first steps of that formation, we are induced to think about religion chiefly from a sense of its vast consequences, and this reason is enough to make wise men think about it both long and closely. Lastly, our religious thoughts come to have a vivacity and impressiveness in them which they had not hitherto : that is to say, they in- terest us much more than they did. There is a won- derful difference in the light in which we see the same thing, in the force and strength with which it rises up before our view, in the degree with which we are af- fected by it. This difference is experienced in no one thing more than in religion, not only between differ- ent persons, but by the same person at different times, the same person in different stages of the christian progress, the same person under different measures of divine grace. Finally, would we know whether we have made, or are making any advances in Christianity or not? These are the marks which will tell us. Do we think more frequently about religion than we used to do? Do we cherish and entertain these thoughts for a longer con- tinuance than we did? Do they interest us more than formerly ? Do they impress us more, do they strike us more forcibly, do they sink deeper? If we perceive this, then, we perceive a change, upon which we may SERMON III. 57 ground our hopes and expectations; if we perceive it not, we have cause for very afflicting apprehensions, that the power of religion hath not yet visited us; cause for deep and fervent intercession with God for the much wanted succour of his holy Spirit. JJ ao SERMON IV. " you of heavenly things;" that is to say, if I speak to you of those things, which are passing, or which Avill pass in heaven, in a totally different state and. stage of existence, amongst natures and beings unlike yours? The truth seems to be, that the human un- derstanding, constituted as it is, though fitted for the purposes for which we want it, that is, though capable of receiving the instruction and knowledge, which are necessary for our conduct and the discharge of our duty, has a native original incapacity for the reception of any distinct knowledge of our future condition. The reason is, that all our conceptions and ideas are drawn from experience, (not perhaps all immediately from experience, but experience lies at the bottom of them all,) and no language, no information, no instruc- tion can do more for us, than teach us the relation of the ideas which we have. Therefore, so far as we can judge, no words whatever that could have been used, no account or description that could have been writ- ten down, would have been able to convey to us a conception of our future state, constituted as our un- derstandings now are. I am far from saying, that it was not in the power of God, by immediate inspira- tion, to have struck light and ideas into our minds, of which naturally we have no conception. I am far from saying, that he could not, by an act of his power, have assumed a human being, or the soul of a human being, into heaven; and have shown to him or it, the nature and the glories of that kingdom : but it is evi- dent, that, unless the whole order of our present world be changed, such revelations as these must be SERMON IV. 61 rare; must be limited to very extraordinary persons and very extraordinary occasions. And even then, with respect to others, it is to be observed, that the ordinary modes of" communication by speech or wri- ting arc inadequate to the transmitting of any know- ledge or information of this sort, and from a cause, which has already been noticed, namely, that language deals only with the ideas which wc have; that these ideas are all founded in experience; that probably, most probably indeed, the things of the next world ai'c very remote from any experience which we have in this; the consequence of which is, that, though the inspired person might himself possess this superna- tural knowledge, he could not impart it to any other person not in like manner inspired. When, therefore, the nature and constitution of the human understand- ing is considered, it can excite no surprise, it ought to excite no complaint, it is no fliir objection to Chris- tianity, "that it doth not }et apjDcar, what we shall be." I do not say that the imperfection of our under- standing forbids it, (for, in strictness of speech, that is not imperfect, which answers the purpose designed by it,) but the present constitution of our understand- ing forbids it. "It doth not yet appear," saith the apostle, " what we shall be, but this we know, that when he shall ap- pear, we shall be like him." As if he had said, " though we be far from understanding the subject either ac- curately or clearly, or from having conceptions and notions adequate to the truth and reality of the case. 62 SERMON IV. yet we know something: this, for instance, we know, that, " when he shall appear, we shall be like him." The best commentary upon this last sentence of St, John's text may be drawn from the words of St. Paul. His words state the same proposition more fully, when he tells us (Phil. iii. 21.) "that Christ shall change our vile boiy, that it may be like his glorious body." From the two passages together, we may lay down the following points, first, that we shall have bodies. One apostle informs us, that we shall be like him, the other, that our vile body shall be like his glorious body: therefore we shall have bodies. Se- condly, that these bodies shall be greatly changed from what they are at present. If we had had nothing but St. John's text to have gone upon, this would have been implied. " When he shall appear, we shall be like him." We are not like him now, we shall be like him; we shall hereafter be like him, namely, when he shall appear. St, John's words plainly regard this similitude, as a future thing, as what we shall ac- quire, as belonging to what we shall become, in con- tra-distinction to what we are. Therefore they imply a change, which must take place in our bodily con- stitution. But what St. John's words imply, St. Paul's declare: " He shall change our vile bodies." That point therefore may be considered as placed out of question. That such a change is necessar}% that such a change is to be expected, is agreeable even to the established order of nature. Throughout the universe this rule SERMON IV. 60 liolds, viz. that the body of every animal is suited to its state ; nay more, when an animal changes its state, it changes its body. When animals, which lived under water, afterwards live in air, their bodies are changed almost entirely, so as hardly to be known by any one mark of resemblance to their former figure; as, for example, from worms and caterpillars to flies and moths. These are common transformations; and the like happens, when an animal changes its element from the water to the earth, or an insect from living under ground to flying abroad in the air. And these changes take place in consequence of that unalterable rule, that the body be fitted to the state; which rule obtains throughout every region of nature, with which we are acquainted. Now our present bodies are by no means fitted for heaven. So saith St. Paul expressly, " Flesh and blood cannot inherit the kingdom of God; corruption doth not inherit incorruption." Between our bodies, as they are now constituted, and the state, into which we shall come then, there is a physical, neces- sary, and invincible incongruity. Therefore they must undergo a change, and that change will first be univer- sal, at least as to those who shall be saved; secondly, it will be sudden; thirdly, it will be very great. First, it will be universal. Sc. Paul's words in the fifteentli chapter of Corinthians are, " we shall all be changed." I do however admit, that this whole chapter of St. Paul's relates only to those who shall be saved; of no others did he intend to speak. This, I think, has been satisfactorily made out; but the argument is too long- to enter upon at present. If so, the expression of tlie (54 SERMON IV. apostle, " we shall all be changed," proves only that Ave who are saved, who are admissible into his king- dom, shall be changed. Secondly, the change will be instantaneous. So St. Paul describes it; " in a moment, in the twinkling of an eye, the dead shall be raised in- corruptible;" and therefore their nature must have imdergone the change. Thirdly, it will be very great. No change, which we experience or see, can bear any assignable proportion to it in degree or importance. It is this corruptible putting on incorruption ; it is this mortal puiting on immortality. Now it has often been made a question, whether, after so great a change, the bodies, with which we shall be clothed, are to be deemed new bodies, or the same bodies under a new form. This is a question, which has often been agi- tated, bui the truth is, it is of no moment or impor- tance. We continue the same to all intents and pur- poses, so long as we are sensible and conscious, that we are so. In this life our bodies are continually chang- ing. Much, no doubt, and greatly is the body of every human being changed from his birth to his maturity: yet, because we are nevertheless sensible of what we are, sensible to ourselves that v/e are the same, we are in reality the same. Alterations, in the size or form of our visible persons, make no char.ge in that respect. Nor would they, if they were much greater, as in some animals they arc; or even, if they were total. Vast, therefore, as that change must be, or rather, as the difference must be between our present and our future bodies, as to their sub-stance, their nature, or their form, it will not liinder us from remaining the SERMON IV. 65 same, any more than the alterations, which our bodies undergo in this hfe, hinder us from remaining the same. We know within ourselves that we are the same: and that is sufficient: and this knowledge or consciousness we shall rise with from the grave, what- ever be the bodies, with wliich we be clothed. The two Apostles go one step further, when they tell us, that we shall be like Christ himself; and that this likeness will consist in a resemblance to his glo- rified body. Now of the glorified body of Christ all that we know is this. At the transfiguration upon the mount, the three Apostles saw the person of our Lord in a very different state from its ordinary state., " He v\'as transfigured before them, and his face did shme as the sun, and his raiment was white as the light." St. Luke describes it thus. " The fashion of his coun- tenance was altered, and his raiment was white and glistering: and behold there talked with him two men, who appeared in glory." Then he adds, " that the Apostles, when they awaked, saw his glory." Now I consider this transaction, as a specimen of the change of which a glorified body is susceptible. St. Stephen, at his martyrdom, saw the glory of God, and Jesus standing at the right hand of God. St. Paul at his conversion, saAV a light from heaven, above the bright- ness of the sun, shining round about him; and in this light Christ then was. These instances, like the former, only show the changes and the appearances of which a glorified body is susceptible, not the form or condition, in which it must necessarilv be found, or I 66 SERMON I\'. must always continue. You will observe, that it was necessary that the body of our Lord at his transfigu- ration, at his appearance after his resurrection, at his ascension into heaven, at his appearance to Stephen, should preserve a resemblance to his human person upon earth, because it was by that resemblance alone he could be known to his disciples, at least by any means of knowledge naturally belonging to them in that human state. But this was not always necessary nor continues to be necessary. Nor is there any suffi- cient reason to suppose, that this resemblance to our present bodies will be retained in our future bodies, or be at all wanted. Upon the whole, the conclusions, which we seem authorized to draw from these intima- tions of scripture, are; First, that we shall have bodies. Secondly, that they will be so far different from our present bodies, as to be suited, by that difference, to the state and life, into which they are to enter, agreea- bly to that rule, which prevails throughout universal nature; that the body of every being is suited to its state, and that, when it changes its state, it changes its body. Thirdly, that it is a question by which we need not at all be disturbed, whether the bodies, with which we shall arise, be new bodies, or the same bodies under a new form; for, SERMON IV. G7 Fourthly, no alteration will hinder us from remain- ing the same, provided we are sensible and conscious that we are so, any more than the changes, which our visible person undergoes even in this life, and which from infancy to manhood are undoubtedly very great, hinder us from being the same, to ourselves and in ourselves, and to all intents and purposes whatsoever. Lastly, that though, from the imperfection of our faculties, we neither are, nor, without a consant mira- cle upon our minds, could be made, able to conceive or comprehend the nature of our future bodies; yet we are assured, that the change will be infinitely bene- ficial J that our new bodies will be infinitely superior to those, which we carry about with us in our present state; in a word, that, whereas our bodies are now comparatively vile, (and are so denominated,) they will so far rise in glory, as to be made like unto his glorious body; that, whereas, through our pilgrimage here, we have borne, that which we inherited, the image of the earthy, of our parent the first Adam, created for a life upon this earth; we shall, in our fu- ture state, bear another image, a new resemblance, that of the heavenly inhabitant, the second man, the second nature, even that of the Lord from heaven. SERMON V. ON PURITY OF THE HEART AND AFFECTIONS. OF THE STATE AFTER DEATH. 1 John, iii. 2, 3. " Beloved, now are we the sons of God; and it doth not yet appear what we shall be: but we know that, when he shall appear, we shall be like him; for we shall see him as he is. And every man that hath this hope in him^ purifieth himself even as he is purey When the text tells us " that every man, that hath this hope in him, purifieth himself," it must be un- derstood as intending to describe the natural, proper, and genuine effects of this hope, rather perhaps than the actual effects, or at least as effects, which, in point of experience, universally follow from it. As hath al- ready been observed, the whole text relates to sincere christians and to these alone ; the word we, in the pre- ceding part of it, comprises sincere christians and no others. Therefore the word every man must be limi- ted to the same sort of men, of whom he was speaking before. It is not probable, that in the same sentence he would change the persons and characters concern- ing whom he discoursed ; so that if it had been objec- SERiMON V. ti9 ted to St. John, that, in point of fact, every man did not purify himself who had this hope in him, he would have replied, I believe, that these were not the kind of persons he had in his view; that, throughout the whole of the text, he had in contemplation the reli- gious condition and character of sincere christians and no other. When, in the former part of the text, he talked of we being the sons of God, of we being like Christ, he undoubtedly meant sincere christians alone : and it would be strange if he meant any other in this latter part of the text, which is in fact a continuation of the same discourse, of the same subject, nay, a por- tion of the same sentence. I have said thus much in order to obviate the con- trariety, which there seems to be between St. John's assertion and experience. Experience, I acknowledge, proves the inefficacy in numerous cases of religious hope and religious motives: and it must be so: for if religious motives operated certainly and necessarily : if they produced their effect by an infallible power over the mind, we should only be machines necessa- rily actuated; and that certainly is not the thing, which a moral agent, a religious agent, was intended to be. It was intended that we should have the power of doing right, and, consequently, of doing wrong: for he, who cannot do wrong, cannot do right by choice ; he is a mere tool and instrument, or rather a machine, whichever he does. Therefore all moral motives, and all religious motives, unless they went to deprive man of his liberty entirely, which they most certainly were 7© SERMON V. not meant to do, must depend for their influence and success upon the man himself. This success, therefore, is various, but, when it fails, it is owing to some vice and corruption in the mind itself. Some men are very little affected by re- ligious exhortation of any kind, either by hearing or reading. That is a vice and corruption in the mind itself. Some men, though affected, are not affected sufficiently to influence their lives. That is a vice and corruption in the mind, or rather in the heart : and so it will always be found; but I do not so much wonder at persons being unaffected by what others tell them, be those others who they may, preachers or teachers, or friends, or parents, as 1 wonder at seeing men not affected by their own thoughts, their own meditations : yet it is so; and when it is so, it argues a deep cor- ruption of mind indeed. We can think upon the most serious, the most solemn subjects without any sort of consequence upon our lives. Shall we call this seared insensibility? shall we call it a fatal inefficacy of the return of principle within us? shall we confess, that the mind has lost its government over the man? These are observations upon the state of morals and religion, as we see them .in the world,, but whatever these observations be, it is still true, and this is St. John's assertion, that the proper, natural, and genuine effect of religious hope is to cause us to strive " to purify ourselves, even as he is pure. " St. John strongly fixes our attention, I mean as he means, such of us 03 SERMON V. 71 are sincere christians, upon what we are to be hereaf- ter. This, as to particulars, is veiled from us, as we have observed, by our present nature, but as to gene- rals, as to what is of real importance and concern for us to know, (I do not mean but that it might be highly gratifying and satisfactory to know more,) but as to what is of the first importance and concern for us to know, we ha\c a glorious assurance of, we have an assurance, that we shall undergo a change in our nature infinitely for the better; that when he shall ap- pear glorified as he is, we shall be like him. Then the point is, what we are to do, how we are to act under this expectation, having this hope, widi this prospect placed before our eyes. St. John tells us " we are to purify ourselves, even as he is pure." Now what is the scriptural meaning of purifying ourselves can be made out thus. The contrary of purity is defilement, that is evident; but our Saviour himself hath told us what the things which defile a man are, and this is the enumeration: evil thoughts, adulteries, fornications, murders, thefts, covetousness, wicked- ness, deceit, lasciviousness, an evil eye, blasphemy, pride, foolishness, and the reason given, why these are the real proper defilements of our nature, is, that they proceed from within, out of the heart: these evil things come from within, and defile the man. The seat, therefore, of moral defilement, according to our Saviour, is the heart, by which we know, that he al- ways meant the affections and the disposition: the seat, therefore, of moral purity, must necessarily be ■^ 72 SERMON V. the same; for purity is the reverse of defilement; con- sequently, to purify ourselves, is to cleanse our hearts from the presence and pollution of sin, of those sins, particularly, which reside in, and continue in the heart. This is the purgation intended in our text. This is the test of purgation enjoined upon us. It is to be noticed, that it goes beyond the mere control of our actions. It adds a further duty, the pu- rifying of our thoughts and affections. Nothing can be more certain, than that it was the design of our Saviour, in the passage here referred to, to direct the attention of his disciples to the heart, to that which is within a man, in contra-distinction to that which is external. Now he, who only strives to control his outward ac- tion, but lets his thoughts and passions indulge them- selves without check or restraint, does not attend to that which is within him, in contra-distinction to that which is external. Secondly, the instances which our Saviour has given, though, like all instances in scrip- ture, and to say the truth, in all ancient writings, they be specimens and illustrations of his meaning, as to the kind and nature of the duties, or the vices which he had in view, rather than complete catalogues, in- cluding all sucli duties or vices by name, so that no other but what are thus named and specified were in- tended: though this qualified way of understanding the eiiuiiicrations be right, yet even this enumeration itself shows, that our Saviour's lesson went beyond the mere external action. Not only are adulteries and fornications mentioned, but evil thoughts and lascivi- SERMON V. 73 ousness; not only murders, but an evil eye; not only thefts, but covetousness or covetings. Thus by laying the ax to the root, not by lopping off the brunches, but by laying the ax to the root, our Saviour fixed the only rule, which can ever produce good morals. Merely controlling the actions, without governing the thoughts and affections, will not do. In point of fact it is never successful. It is certainly not a compli- ance with our Saviour's command, nor is it what St. John meant in the text by purifying ourselves. " Every man that hath this hope in him purifietli himself, even as he, namely Christ himself, is pure." It is a doctrine and lesson of the new testament, not once, but repeatedly inculcated, that if we hope to re- semble Christ in his glorified state, we must resemble him in his human state. And it is a part, and a most significant part of this doctrine, that the resemblance must consist in purity from sin, especially from those sins which cleave and attach to the heart. It is by St. Paul usually put thus. " If we be dead with Christ, we believe that we shall also live with him;" "dead with Christ;" what can that mean, for the Apostle speaks to those who had not yet undergone natural death? He explains. — " Reckon yourselves to be dead unto sin;" that, you hear, is the death he means. *' He that is dead, is freed from sin;" that is St. Paul's own exposition of his own words; and then, keeping the sense of the words in his thoughts, he adds; " if we be dead with Christ, we believe, that we shall also K 74 SERMON V. live with him. Again; still keeping the same sense in view, and no other sense: " if we have been planted to- gether in the likeness of his death, we shall be also in the likeness of his resurrection; once more, but still observe in the same sense, " we are buried with him by baptism unto death ; our old man is crucified with him." The burthen of the whole passage is, that if wc hope to resemble what Christ is in heaven, we must resemble what he was upon earth: and that this resem- blance must consist specifically in the radical casting off of our sins. The expressions of the apostle are very strong; " that the body of sin may be destroyed. Let not sin reign in your mortal body; obey it not in the lusts thereof ;'' not only in its practices, but in its de- sires. " Sin shall not have dominion over you." In another epistle, that to the Colossians, St. Paul speaks of an emancipation from sin, as a virtual rising from the dead, like as Christ rose from the dead. " If ye then be risen with Christ, seek those things, that are above, where Christ sitteth at the right hand of God ; set your affections on things above, not on things of the earth; for ye are dead, and your life is hid with Christ in God. When Christ, who is our life, shall appear, then shall ye also appear with him in glory." In this way is the comparison carried on; and what is the practical exhortation which it suggests ? " Mortif} therefore your members which are upon the earth, for nication, uncleanness, evil concupiscence, and covet- ousness:" which is an equivalent exhortation, and drawn from the same premises as that of the text ; " purify yourselves, even as he is pure," SERMON V. 75 The scripturfs then teach, that we are to make ourselves like Christ upon earth, that we may become like him in heaven, and this likeness is to consist in purity. Now there is a class of christians, and, I am ready to allow, real christians, to whom this admonition of the text is peculiarly necessary. They are not those, who set aside religion, they are not those, who disregard the will of their Maker, but they are those, who endeavour to obey him partiall}-. and in this way: finding it an easier thing to do good than to expel their sins, especially those, which cleave to their hearts, their affections or their imaginations, they set their endeavours more towards beneficence than purity. You say we ought not to speak disparag- ingly of doing good; by no means, but wc affirm, that it is not the whole of our duty, nor the most difficult part of it; in particular, it is not that part of it, which is insisted upon in the text, and in those other scriptures, that have been mentioned. The text, enjoining ihe imi- tation of Christ upon earth, in order that wc may become like him in heaven, does not say, do good even as he went about doing good: but it says, '' purify your- selves even as he is pure." So saith St. John; " morti- fy the deeds of the body, let not sin reign in you, die with Christ unto sin, be baptized unto Jesus Christ, that is unto his death, be buried with him by baptism unto death, be planted together in the likeness of his death, rrucifv the old man. nnd destrov the bodv of 76 SERMON V. sin; as death hath no more dominion over him, so let sin no more reign in your mortal bodies." So St. Paul. All these strong and significant metaphors are for the purpose of impressing more forcibly upon us this great lesson: that to participate with Christ in his glor}-, we must participate with him in his humiliation; and that this participation consists in divesting ourselves of those sins, of the heart especially, and affections, whether they break out into action or not, which are inconsistent with that purity, of which he left us an example, and to the attainment and preservation of which purity, we are most solemnly enjoined to direct our first, strongest, and our most sincerq endeavours. SERIVION VI. TASTE FOR DEVOTION. John, iv. 23, 24. " But the hour cometh, and now is, when the true worshippers shall worship the Father in spirit and in truth: for the Father seeketh such to worship him. God IS a spirit; and they that worship him, must wor- ship him in spirit and in truth.'''* A TASTE and relish for religious exercise, or the want of it, is one of the marks and tokens, by which we may judge, whether our heart be right towards God or not. God is unquestionably an object of de- votion to every creature, which he has made capable of devotion; consequently, our minds can never be right towards him, unless they be in a devotional frame. It cannot be disputed, but that the Author and Giver of all things, upon whose Mill, and whose mercy we de- pend for every thing we have, and for every thing we look for, ought to live in the thoughts and affections of his rational creatures. " Through thee have I been 78 SERMON VI. liolden up ever since I was born: thou art he, that took me from my mother's womb ; my praise shall be always of thee." If there be such things as first sen- timents towards God, these words of the Psalmist ex- press them. That devotion to God is a duty, stands upon the same proof as that God exists. But devotion is an act of the mind strictly. In a certain sense, duty to a fellow creature may be discharged, if the outward act be performed, because the benefit to him depends upon the act. Not so with devotion. It is altogether the operation of the mind. God is a spirit, and must be worshipped in spirit, that is, in mind and thought. The devotion of the mind may be, will be, ought to be testified and accompanied by outward perform- ances and expressions: but, without the mind going along with it, no form, no solemnity can avail, as a service to God. The question is, Avhether their mind, and thoughts, and affections accompany the mode, which men adopt or not. I do not say, that modes of worship are indifferent tilings; for certainly one mode may be more rational, more edifying, more pure than another; but they are indifferent in comparison with the question, whether the heart attend the worship, or be estranged from it. These two points then being true; first, that devo- tion is a duty; secondly, that the heart must participate to make any thing we do devotion : it follows, that the heart cannot be right toward God, unless it be pos- sessed with a taste and relish for his service, and for what relates to it. SERMON VI. 79 Men may, and many undoubtedly do, attend upon acts of religious worship, and even from religious motives, yet, at the same time, without this taste and relish, of which we are speaking. Religion has no sa- vour for them. I do not allude to the case of those, who attend upon the public worship of the church, or of their communion, from compliance with custom, merely out of regard to station, for example's sake merely, from habit merely; still less to the case of those, who have particular worldly views for so doing. I lay the case of such persons for the present out of the question, and I consider only the case of those, who, kno\\ ing and believing the worship of God to be a duty, and that the wilful neglect of this, as of other duties, must look forward to future punishment, do join in worship from a principle of obedience, from a consideration of those consequences, which will follow disobedience ; from the fear indeed of God and the dread of his judgments, (and so far from motives of religion, yet without any taste or relish for religious exercise itself. That is the case I am considering. It is not for us to presume to speak harshly of any conduct, which proceeds, in any manner, from a regard to God, and the expectation of a future judgment. God, in his scriptures, holds out to man terrors, as well as promises; punishment after death, as well as reward. Undoubtedly he intended those motives, which he himself proposes, to operate and have their influence. Wherever they operate, good ensues; very great and important good, compared with the cases, in w|^ch they do not operate; yet not all the good we would 30 SERMON VI. desire, not ail which is attainable, not all which we ought to aim at, in our christian course. The fear of the Lord is the beginning of knowledge: but calling it the beginning implies that we ought to proceed fur- ther; namely, from his fear to his love. To apply this distinction to the subject before us; the man, who serves God from a dread of his displea- sure, and, therefore, in a certain sense by constraint, is, beyond all comparison, in a better situation, as touching his salvation, than he, who defies this dread, and breaks through this constraint. He, in a word, who obeys, from whatever motive his obedience springs, provided it be a religious motive, is of a cha- racter, as well as in a condition, infinitely preferable to the character and condition of the man, whom no mo- tives whatever can induce to perform his duty. Still it is true, that if he feels not within himself a taste and relish for the service which he performs, (to say no- nothing of the consideration, how much less acceptable his service may be,) and for devotion itself, he wants one satisfactory evidence of his heart being right to- wards God. A further progress in religion will give him this evidence, but it is not yet attahied : as yet, therefore, there is a great deficiency. The taste and relish for devotion, of which we are speaking, is what good men, in all ages, have felt strongly. It appears in their history: it appears in their writings. The book of Psalms, in particular, was, great part of it, composed under the impression of this prin- SERMON VI. 81 f iple. Many of the psalms arc written in the truest spirit of devotion, and it is one test of the religious frame of our own minds to observe whether we have a relish for these compositions; whether our hearts are stirred as we read them ; whether we perceive in them words alone, a mere letter, or so many grateful grati- fying sentiments towards God, in unison with what we ourselves feci, or have before felt. And what we are saying of the book of Psalms, is true of many religious books, that are put into our hands, especially books of devotional religion: which, though they be human compositions, and nothing more, are of a similar cast with the devotional writings of scripture, and excel- lently calculated for their purpose.* We read of aged persons, who passed the greatest part of their time in acts of devotion, and passed it with enjoyment. "Anna, the prophetess, was of great age, which departed not from the temple but served God with fastings and prayers, night and day." The first christians so far as can be gathered from their history in the Acts of the Apostles and the Epistles, as well as from the subse- quent accounts, that are left of them, took great dc- * Amongst these I particularly recommend the prayers and de- votions annexed to the new Whole Duty of Man. Bishop Burnet, in speaking of such kind of books, very truly says, " By the fre- quent reading of these books, by the relish that one has in them, by the delight they give, and the effects they produce, a man will plainly perceive, whether his soul is made for divine matters or not; what suitableness there is between him and them, and whether he is yet touched with such a sense of religion, as to be capable of dedi- cating himself to it." L S-2 SERMON Vl. light in exercises of devotion. These seemed to form, indeed, the principal satisfaction of their lives in this world. " Continuing daily with one accord in the tem- ple, and breaking bread," that is, celebrating the holy communion, '*from house to house, they eat their meat with gladness and singleness of heart, praising God." In this spirit christians set out, finding the greatest gratification, they were capable of, in acts and exer- cises of devotion. A great deal of what is said in the new testament, by St. Paul in particular, about *' rejoicing in the Lord, rejoicing in the Holy Ghost, rejoicing in hope, rejoicing in consolation, rejoicing in themselves, as sorrowful, yet always rejoicing," refer to the pleasure and the high and spiritual comfort, which they found in religious exercises. Much, I fear, of this spirit is fled. There is a coldness in our devo- tions, which argues a decay of religion amongst us. Is it true that men, in these days, perform religious exercises as frequently as they ought? or as those did, who have gone before us, in the christian course? that is one question to be asked: but there is also another question of still greater importance, viz. do they find in these performances that gratification, which the first and best disciples of the religion actually found? which they ought to find, and which they would find, did they possess the taste and relish, concerning which we are discoursing, and which if they do not possess, they want one great proof of their heart being right towards God. If the spirit of prayer, as it is sometimes called, if S1>RM0N VI. tio the taste and relish for devotion, if a devotional frame of mind be within us, it will show itself- in the turn and cast of our meditations, in the warmth, and earnest- ness, and frequency of our secret applications to God in prayer; in the deep, unfeigned, heart- piercing, heart- sinking sorrow of our confessions and our penitence ; in the sincerity of our gratitude and of our praise; in our admiration of the divine bounty to his creatures; in our sense of particular mercies to ourselves. We shall pray much in secret. We shall address ourselves to God of our own accord, in our v/alks, our closet, our bed. Form, in these addresses, will be nothing. Every thing will come from the heart. Wc shall feed tlie flame of devotion by continually returning to the subject. No man, who is endued widi the taste and relish we speak of, will have God long out of his mind. Under one view or other, God cannot be long out of a devout mind. " Neither was God in all his thoughts," is a true description of a complete dereliction of reli- gious principle: but it can, by no possibility, be the case with a man, who has the spirit of devotion, or any portion of that spirit within him. But it is not in our private religion alone, that the effect and benefit of this principle is perceived. The true taste and relish, we so much dwell upon, will bring a man to the public worship of God; and what is more, will bring him in such a frame of mind, as to enable him to join in it with effect, with effect- as to his own soul; with effect as to every object, both public and private, intended by public worship. AVan g2 SERMON Vl. light in exercises of devotion. These seemed to form, indeed, the principal satisfaction of their lives in this world. " Continuing daily with one accord in the tem- ple, and fjreaking bread," that is, celebrating the holy communion, '*from house to house, they eat their meat with gladness and singleness of heart, praising God." In this spirit christians set out, finding the greatest gratification, they were capable of, in acts and exer- cises of devotion. A great deal of what is said in the new testament, by St. Paul in particular, about *' rejoicing in the Lord, rejoicing in the Holy Ghost, rejoicing in hope, rejoicing in consolation, rejoicing in themselves, as sorrowful, yet always rejoicing," refer to the pleasure and the high and spiritual comfort, which they found in religious exercises. Much, I fear, of this spirit is fled. There is a coldness in our devo- tions, which argues a decay of religion amongst us. Is it true that men, in these days, perform religious exercises as frequently as they ought? or as those did, who have gone before us, in the christian course? that is one question to be asked: but there is also another question of still greater importance, viz. do they find in these performances that gratification, which the first and best disciples of the religion actually found? which they ought to find, and which they would find, did they possess the taste and relish, concerning which we are discoursing, and which if they do not possess, they want one great proof of their heart being right towards God. If the spirit of prayer, as it is sometimes called, if SliRMON VI. 86 ihe taste and relish for devotion, if a devotional frame of mind be within us, it will show itself- in the turn and cast of our meditations, in the warmth, and earnest- ness, and frequency of our secret applications to God in prayer; in the deep, unfeigned, heart-piercing, heart- sinking sorrow of our confessions and our penitence ; in the sincerity of our gratitude and of our praise; in our admiration of the divine bounty to his creatures; in our sense of particular mercies to ourselves. We shall pray much in secret. We shall address ourselves to God of our own accord, in our v.alks, our closet, our bed. Form, in these addresses, Avill be nothing. Every thing will come from the heart. We shall feed the flame of devotion by continually returning to the subject. No man, who is endued with the taste and relish we speak of, will have God long out of his mind. Under one view or other, God cannot be long out of a devout mind. " Neither was God in all his thoughts," is a true description of a complete dereliction of reli- gious principle: but it can, by no possibility, be the case with a man, who has the spirit of devotion, or any portion of that spirit within him. But it is not in our private religion alone, that the effect and benefit of this principle is perceived. The true taste and relish, we so much dwell upon, will bring a man to the public worship of God; and what is more, will bring him in such a frame of mind, as to enable him to join in it with effect, with effect as to his own soul; with effect as to every object, both public and private, intended by publir v.orship. "W^an 84 SERMON VI. derings and forgetfulness, remissions and intermissions of attention, there will be; but these will be fewer and shorter, in proportion as more of this spirit is prevalent within us; and some sincere, some hearty, some deep, some true, and, as we trust, acceptable service will be performed, before we leave the place; some pouring forth of the soul unto God in prayer and in thanksgiv- ing, in prayer excited by wants and weaknesses, I fear also, by sins and neglects without number; and in thanksgivings, such as mercies, the most undeserved, ought to call forth from a heart, filled, as the heart of man should be, with a thorough consciousness of de- pendency and obligation. All forms of public M^orship must, by their very nature, be in a great degree general, that is, must be calculated for the average condition of human and of christian life; but it is one property of the devotional spirit, which we speak of, to give a particularity to our worship, though it be carried on in a congrega- tion of fellow christians, and expressed in terms, which were framed and conceived for the use of all. And it does this, by calling up recollections, which will apply most closely, and bring home most nearly, to ourselves, those terms and those expressions. For instance, in public worship, we thank God in general terms, that is, we join with the congregation in a general thanksgiving; but a devout man brings to church the recollection of special and particular mer- cies, particular bounties, particular providences, par- SERMON VI. 85 ticular deliverances, particular relief recently experi- enced, specially and critically granted in the moment of want or danger, or eminently and supereminently vouchsafed to us individually. These he bears in his thoughts: he applies as he proceeds; that, which was general, he makes close and circumstantial ; his heart rises towards God, by a sense of mercies vouchsafed to himself. He does not however confine himself to those favours of providence, which he enjoys above many others, or more than most others; he does not dwell upon distinctions alone ; he sees God in all his goodness, in all his bounty. Bodily ease, for instance, is not less valuable, not less a mercy, because others are at ease, as well as himself. The same of his health, the use of his limbs, the faculties of his understanding-. But what I mean is, that in his mind, he brings to church mercies, in which he is interested; and that the most general expressions of thankfulness attach with him upon particular recollections of goodness, particular subjects of gratitude, so that the holy fer- vour of his devotion is supported ; never wants, nor can want, materials to act upon. It is the office, there- fore, of an internal spirit of devotion to make worship personal. We have seen that it will be so with thanks- giving. It will be the same likewise with every other part of divine worship. The confession of sins in our liturgy, and perhaps in all liturgies, is general; but our sins, alas, are particular : our conscience not only acknowledges a deplorable weakness and imperfection in the discharge of our duty, but is stung also with remembrances and compunctions, excited by particu- 86 SERMON VI. lar offences. When we come, therefore, to confess our sins, let memory do its office faithfully. Let these sins rise up before our eyes. All language is imper- fect. Forms, intended for general use, must consist of general terms, and are so far inadequate. They 7nay be rehearsed by the lips with very little of application to our own case. But this will never be so, if the spi- rit of devotion be within us. A devout mind is exceed- ingly stirred, when it has sins to confess. None but a hardened sinner can even think of his sins without pain. But when he is to lay them,- with supplications for pardon, before his Maker; when he is to expose his heart to God, it will always be with powerful in- ward feelings of guilt and calamity. It hath been well said of prayer, that prayer will either make a man leave off sinning, or sin will make him leave off prayer. And the same is true -of confession. If confession be sincere, if it be such, as a right capacity for devotion will make it to be, it will call up our proper and par- ticular sins so distinctly to our view, their guilt, their danger, their end; whither they are carrying us; in what they will conclude; that, if we can return to them "again without molestation from our conscience, then religion is not within us. If wc have approached God in his worship, so inffectually as to ourselves, it is becausie we have not worshipped him in spirit; we may say of all we have done, " we drew near with our lips, but our hearts were far from him.'' What we have said concerning thanksgiving an^ confession is likewise true of prayer universally. The spirit of devotion will apply our prayers to our wants. SERMON VI. 87 In forms of worship, be they ever so well composed, it is impossible to exhibit human wants, otherwise tliJin in general expressions. But devotion will apply them. It will teach every man, in the first place, to know how indigent, how poor a creature, without a continued exercise of mercy and supply of bounty from God, he would be; because when he begins to enumerate his wants, he will be astonished at their multitude. What are we, any of us, but a complica- tion of wants, which we have not in ourselves the power of supplying? But, beside those numerous wants, and that common helplessness, in which we all partake, every man has his own sore, his own grief, his own difficulties; every man has some distress, which he is suffering, or fearing. Nay, were worldly wishes satisfied, was worldly prosperity complete, he has always what is of more consequence than worldly prosperity to pray for, he has always his sins to pray against. Where temporal wants are few, spiritual wants are often the most and the greatest. The grace of God is always wanted. His governing, his prevent- ing, his inspiring, his assisting grace is always wanted. Here, therefore, is a subject for prayer, were there no other; a subject personally and individually inter- esting in the highest degree; a subject, above all others, upon which the spirit of devotion will be sure to fix. I assign therefore, as the first effect of a right spirit of devotion, that it gives particularity to all our wor- sihip. It applies, and it appropriates. Forms of worship may be general, but a spirit of devotion brings them home, and close to each and every one. 38 SERMON VI. One happy consequence of which is, that it prevents the tediousness of worship. Things, which interest us, are not tedious. If we find worship tedious, it is be- cause it does not interest us, as it ought to do. We must allow (experience compels us to allow) for wan- derings and inattentions, as amongst the infirmities of our infirm nature: But, as I have already said, even these will be fewer and shorter, in proportion as we are possessed of the spirit of devotion. Weariness will not be perceived, by reason of that succession of devout feelings and consciousnesses, which the seve- ral offices of worship are calculated to excite. If our heart be in the business, it will not be tedious. If, in thanksgiving, it be lifted up by a sense of mercies, and acknowledge from whom they proceed, thanks- giving will be a grateful exercise, and not a tedious form. What relates to our sins and wants, though not of the same gratifying nature, though accompanied with deep, nay, with afflicting cause of humiliation and fear, must, nevertheless, be equally interesting, or more so, because it is of equal concernment to us, or of greater. In neither case, therefore, if our duty be performed, as it ought to be, will tediousness be per- ceived. I say, that the spirit of devotion removes from the worship of God the perception of tediousness, and with that also every disposition to censure or cavil at particular phrases, or expressions used in public wor- ship. All such faults, even if they be real, and such observations upon them, are absorbed by the immense SERMON VI. 89 importance of the business, in which we are engaged. Quickness in discovering blemishes of this sort is not the gift of a pious mind; still less either levity or acri- mony in speaking of them. Moreover, the spirit of devotion reconciles us to repetitions. In other subjects repetition soon becomes tiresome and offensive. In devotion it is different. Deep, earnest, heartfelt devotion naturally vents itself in repetition. — Observe a person racked by excru- ciating bodily pain; or a person suddenly struck with the news of some dreadful calamity; or a person labouring under some cutting anguish of soul; and you will always find him breaking out into ejacula- tions, imploring from God support, mercy, and relief, over and over again, uttering the same prayer in the same words. Nothing he finds suits so well the ex- tremity of his sufferings, the urgency of his wants, as a continual recurrence to the same cries, and the same call for divine aid. Our Lord himself, in his last agony, affords a high example of what we ar^ saying. Thrice he besought his heavenly Father; and thrice he used the same words: repetition therefore is not only tolerable in devotion, but it is natural: it is even dictated by a sense of suffering, and an acute- ness of feeling. It is coldness of affection, which re- quires to be enticed and gratified by continual novelty of idea, or expression, or action. The repetitions and prolixity of pharisaical prayers, which our Lord cen- sures, are to be understood of those prayers, which run out into mere formality and into great length ; no M 90 SERMON VI. sentiment or affection of the heart accompanying- them; but uttered as a task, from an opinion, (of which our Lord justly notices the absurdity;) that they should really be heard for their much speaking. Actuated by the spirit of devotion we can never offend in this way: we can never be the object of this censure. Lastly, and what has already been intimated, the spirit of devotion will cause our prayers to have an effect upon our practice. For example ; if we repeated the confession in our liturgy with a true penitential sense of guilt upon our souls, we should not day after day be acknowledging to God our transgressions and neglects, and yet go on exactly in the same manner, without endeavouring to make them less and fewer. We should plainly perceive that this was doing nothing towards salvation; and that, at this rate, we may be sinning and confessing all our lives. Whereas was the right spirit of confessional piety, viz. thoughtfulness of soul, within us at the time, this would be the cer- tain benefit, especially in the case of an often repeated sin, that the mind would become more and more con- cerned, more and more filled with compunction and remorse, so as to be forced into amendment. Even the most heartfelt confession might not immediately do for us all that we could wish : yet by perseverance in the same, it would certainly in a short time produce its desired effect. For the same reason we should not time after time pray that we might thenceforward, viz. after each time of so praying, lead godly, righteous, SERMON VI. 91 and sober lives, yet persist, just as usual, in ungodli- ness, unrighteousness, and intemperance. The thing would be impossible, if we prayed as we ought. So likewise, if real thankfulness of heart accompanied our thanksgivings, we should not pray in vain, that we might show forth the praises of God, not only with our lips but in our lives. As it is, thousands repeat these words without doing a single deed for the sake of pleasing God, exclusive of other motives, or re- fraining from a single thing they like to do out of the fear of displeasing him. So again, every time we hear the third service at church, we pray that God would incline our hearts to keep his commandments; yet immediately, perhaps, afterwards allow our hearts and inclinations to wander, without control, to whatever sinful temptation enticed them. This, I say, all pro- ceeds from the want of earnestness in our devotions. Strong devotion is an antidote against sin. To conclude, a spirit of devotion is one of the greatest blessings; and, by consequence, the want of it one of the greatest misfortunes, which a christian can experience. When it is present, it gives life to every act of worship, which we perform: it makes every such act interesting and comfortable to our- selves. It is felt in our most retired moments, in our beds, our closets, our rides, our walks. It is sitrred within us, when we are assembled with our children and servants in family prayer. It leads us to church, to the congregation of our fellow christians there col- lected; it accompanies us in our joint offices of reli- 92 SERMON VI, gion in an especial manner; and it returns us to our homes holier, and happier, and better; and lastly, what greatly enhances its value to every anxious christian, it affords to himself a proof that his heart is right to- wards God ; when it is followed up by a good life, by abstinence from sin, and endeavours after virtue, by avoiding evil and doing good, the proof and the satis- faction to be drawn from it are complete. SERMON Vll. OF THE DOCTRINE OF CONVERSION. Matthew, ix. 13. " I am not come to call the righteous^ but sinners^ to repentance.'*'' It appears from these words, that our Saviour in his preaching held in view the character and spiritual situa- tion of the persons whom he addressed : and the dif- ferences which existed amongst men in these respects : and that he had a regard to these considerations, more especially in the preaching of repentance and conver- sion. Now I think, that these considerations have been too much omitted by preachers of the gospel since, particularly in this very article; and that the doctrine itself has suffered by such omission. It has been usual to divide all mankind into two classes, the converted, and the unconverted ; and, by so dividing them, to infer the necessity of conversion to every person whatever. In proposing the subject under this form, we state the distinction, in my opinion, too absolutely, and draw from it a conclusion too uni^ 94 SERMON VII. versal: because there is a class and description of christians, who, having been piously educated, and having persevered in those pious courses, into which they were first brought, are not conscious to them- selves of ever having been without the influence of religion, of ever having lost sight of its sanctions, of ever having renounced them; of ever, in the gene- ral course of their conduct, having gone against them. These cannot properly be reckoned either converted or unconverted. They are not converted, for they are not sensible of any such religious alteration having taken place with them, at any particular time, as can properly be called a conversion. They are not uncon- verted, because that implies a state of reprobation, and because, if we call upon them to be converted, (which, if they be unconverted, we ought to do) they will not well understand what it is we mean them to do J and, instead of being edified, they may be both much and unnecessarily disturbed, by being so called upon. There is, in the nature of things, a great variety of religious condition. It arises from hence, that exhor- tations, and calls, and admonitions, which are of great use and importance in themselves, and very necessary to be insisted upon, are, nevertheless, not wanted by all, are not equally applicable to all, and to some are altogether inapplicable. This holds true of most of the topics of persuasion or warning, which a christian teacher can adopt. When we preach against presump- tion, for instance, it is not because we suppose that all are presumptuous; or that it is necessary for all, or SERMON VII. 95 every one, to become more humble, or diftident, or apprehensive, than he now is : on the contrary, there may amongst our hearers be low, and timorous, and dejected spirits, who, if they take to themselves what we say, may increase a disposition, which is alread}' too much; or be at a loss to know what it is herein that we would enjoin upon them. Yet the discourse and the doctrine may, nevertheless, be very good; and for a great portion of our congregation very necessary. The like, I think, is the case with the doctrine of con- version. If we were to omit the doctrine of conversion, we should omit a doctrine, which, to many, must be the salvation of their souls. To them all calls without this call, all preachings without this doctrine, would be in vain: and it may be true, that a great part of our hearers are of this description. On the other hand, if we press and insist upon conversion, as indispen- sable to all for the purpose of being saved, we should mislead some, who would not apprehend how they could be required to turn, or be converted to religion, who were never, that they knew, either indifferent to it, or alienated from it. In opposition, however, to what is here said, there are who contend, that it is necessary for every man livinsr to be converted, before he can be saved. This opinion undoubtedly deserves serious consideration, because it founds itself upon scripture, whether rightly or erroneously interpreted is the question. The portion of scripture upon which they, who maintain the opinion, chiefly rely, is our Saviour's conversation with Nico- 96 SERMON VII. demus, recorded in the third chapter of St. John's gospel. Our Saviour is there stated to have said to Nicodemus, " Except a man be born again, he cannot see the Kingdom of God;" and afterwards, as a con- firmation, and, in some sort an exposition of his asser- tion, to have added, " except a man be born of water and of the Spirit, he cannot enter into the kingdom of God." It is inferred from this passage, that all persons whatever must undergo a conversion, before they be capable of salvation ; and it cannot be said that this is a forced or strained inference ; but the question before us at present is, is it a necessary inference? I am not unwilling to admit, that this short, but very remarkable conversation, is fairly interpreted of the gift of the Spi- rit, and that, when this Spirit is given, there is a new birth, a regeneration; but I say, that it is no where de- termined, at what time of life or under what circum- stances, this gift is imparted; nay, the contrary is intimated by comparing it to the blowing of the wind, which, in its mode of action, is out of the reach of our rules and calculations: " the wind bloweth where it listeth, and thou hearest the sound thereof, but canst not tell whence it cometh, and whither it goeth ; so is every one that is born of the Spirit." The effect of this uncertainty is, that we are left at liberty to pray for spiritual assistance, and we do pray for it, in all stages, and under all circumstances of our existence. We pray for it in baptism for those, who are baptized; we teach those, who are catechised, to pray for it in their catechism ; parents pray for its aid and efficacy to give effect to their parental instructions; to presei've the SERMON VII. 97 objects of their love and care from sin and wickedness, and from every spiritual enemy. We pray for it, par- ticularly in the office of confirmation, for young per- sons just entering into the temptations of life. There- fore spiritual assistance may be imparted at any time, from the earliest to the latest period of our existence; and, whenever it is imparted, there is that being born of the Spirit to which our Saviour's words refer. And, considering^ the subject as a matter of experience, if we cannot ordinarily distinguish the operations of the Spi- rit from those of our own minds, it seems to follow, that neither can we distinguish when they commence : so that spiritual assistance may be imparted, and the thing, designated by our Lord's discourse, satisfied, witiiout such a sensible conversion, that a person can fix his memory upon some great and general change, wrought in him at an assignable time. This con- sciousness of a great and general change may be the fact with many. It may be essentially necessary to many.- I only allege, that it is not so to all, so that every person, who is not conscious of such a change, must set himself down as devoted to perdition. This, I repeat, is all I contend for, for I by no ineans intend to say, that any one is without sin, and in that sense not to stand in need of conversion ; still less, that any sin is to be allowed, and not, on the con? trary, strenuously and sincerely resisted and forsaken. 1 only maintain, that there may be christians, who are, and have been in such a religious state, that no such thorough and radical change, as is usually meant bv N 98 SERMON Vir. conversion, is or was necessary for them ; and that they need not be made miserable by tlie want of conscious- ness of such a change. I do not, in the smallest degree, mean to underva- lue, or speak lightly of such changes, whenever or in whomsoever they tai^e place; nor to deny, that they may be sudden, yet lasting; (nay, I am rather inclined to think that it is in this manner that they frequently do take place) nor to dispute what is upon good testi- mony alleged concerning conversion brought about by affecting incidents of life; by striking passages of scripture; by impressive discourses from the pulpit; by what we meet with in books, or even by single touching sentences or expressions in such discourses or books. I am not disposed to question these relations unnecessarily, but rather to bless God for such in- stances, when I hear of them, and to regard them as merciful ordinations of his providence. But it will be said, that conversion implies a revo- lution of opinion. Admitting this to be so, such a change or revolution cannot be necessary to all, be- cause there is no system of religious opinions, in which some have not been brought up from the beginning. To change from error to truth, in any great and im- portant article of religious belief, deserves, I allow, the name of conversion: but all cannot be educated in er- ror, on whatever side truth be supposed to lie. To me, then, it appears, that, although it cannot be SERMON VII. §9 stated vvith safety, or without leading to consequences which may confound and alarm many good men, that conversion is necessary to all, and under all circum- stances; yet I think, that there are two topics of ex- hortation, which together comprise the whole chris- tian life, and one or other of which belongs to every man living, and these two topics are conversion and improvement; when conversion is not wanted, im- provement is. Now this respective preaching of conversion or im- provement, according to the respective spiritual con- dition of those, who hear us, or read what we write, is authorized by the example of scripture preaching, as set forth in the New Testament. It is remarkable, that, in the four gospels and the acts of the apostles, we read incessantly of the preaching of repentance, which I admit to mean conversion. St. John the Bap- tist's preaching set out with it. Our Lord's own preach- ing set out with it. It was the subject which he charged upon his twelve Apostles to preach. It was the sub- ject which he sent forth his seventy disciples to preach. It was the subject which the first missionaries of Chris- tianity pronounced and preached in every place, which they came to, in the course of their progress through different countries. Whereas, in the epistles, written by the same persons, we hear proportionably much less of repentance, and much more of advance, proficiency, progress and improvement in holiness of life ; and of rules and maxims for the leading of a holy and godly life. These exhortations tg continual improvement, to 100 SERMON VII. sincere, strenuous, and continual endeavours after im- provement, are delivered under a variety of expres- sions, but with a strength and earnestness sufficient to show what the Apostles thought of the importance of what they were teaching. Now the reason of the difference is, that the preach- ing of Christ and his apostles, as recorded in the gos- pels and in the acts of the apostles, was addressed to Jews and Gentiles, whom they called upon to become disciples of the new religion. This call evidently im- plied repentance and conversion. But the epistles, which the Apostles, and some of which the same Apos- tles, wrote afterwards, were addressed to persons al- ready become christians, and to some, who, like Timo- thy, had been such from their earliest youth. Speaking to these, you find they dwell upon improvement, pro- ficiency, continued endeavours after higher and greater degrees of holiness and purity, instead of saying so much about repentance and conversion. This conduct was highly rational, and was an adaptation of their in- struction to the circumstances of the persons, whom they addressed, and may be an example to us, in mo- delling our exhortations to the different spiritual con- ditions of our hearers. Seeing, then, that two great topics of our preaching must always be conversion and improvement, it re- mains to be considered, who they are, to whom we must preach conversion, and who they are, to whomw we must preach improvement. SERMON VII. 101 First, Now of the persons in our congregations, to whom we not only niay, but must preach the doctrine of conversion plainly and directly, are those, \\ ho, with the name indeed of christians, have hitherto passed their lives without any iritcrnal religion wiiatever; who have not at all thought upon the subject; who, a few easy and customary forms excepted, (and which with them are mere forms,) cannot truly say of themselves, that they have done one action, m hich they would not have done equally, if there had been no such thing as a God in the world; or that they have ever sacrificed any passion, any present enjoyment, or even any in- clination of their minds, to the restraints and prohibi- tions of religion; with whom indeed, religious motives have not weighed a feather in the scale against interest or pleasure. To these it is utterly necessary that we preach conversion. At this day we have not Jews .and GentiJes to preach to; but these persons are really in as unconverted a state, as any Jew or Gentile could be in our Saviour's time. They are no more christians, as to any actual benefit of Christianity to their souls, than the most hardened Jew, or the most profligate Gentile was in the age of the Gospel. As to any differ cnce in the tAvo cases, the difference is all against them. These must be converted, before they can be saved. The course of their thoughts must be changed, the very principles, upon which they act, must be chang- ed. Considerations, which never, or which hardly ever entered into their minds, must deeply and perpetuall} engage them. — Views and motives, which did not in- fluence them at all, either as checks from doing evil, 102 SERMON VII, or as inducements to do good, must become the views and motives which they regularly consult, and by which they are guided: that is to say, there must be a revolution of principle: the visible conduct will follotv the change; but there must be a revolution within. A change so entire, so deep, so important as this, I do allow to be a conversion; and no one, who is in the si- tuation above described, can be saved without under- going it; and he must necessarily both be sensible of it at the time, and remember it all his life afterwards. It is too momentous an event ever to be forgot. A man might as easily forget his escape from a shipwreck. Whether it was sudden, or whether it was gradual, if it was effected, (and the fruits will prove that,) it was a true conversion: and every such person may justly both believe and say it himself, that he was converted at a particular assignable time. It may not be necessa- ry to speak of his conversion, but he will always think of it, with unbounded thankfulness to the Giver of all grace, the Author of all mercies, spiritual as well as temporal. Secondly, 'j'hc next description of persons, to whom we must preach conversion, properly so called, arc those, who alloiv themselves in the course and habit of some particular sin. — With more or less regularity in other articles of behaviour, there is some particular sin, which they practise constantly and habitually, and allow themselves in that practice. Other sins they strive against; but in this they allow themselves. Now, no man can go on in this course, consistently SER-MON VII. i05 #ith the hope of salvation. Thereiuic it must be broken off. The essential and precise difference be- tween a child of God and another is, not so much in the number of sins, into ^\•hich he may full, (though that undoubtedly be a great difference, yet it is not a precise difference; that is to say, a difference, in which an exact line of separation can be drawn) but the precise difference is, that the true child of God allows himself \\\ no sin whatever. Cost what it may, he contends against, he combats all sin; which he certainlv cannot be said to do, who is still in the course and habit of some particular sin; for, as to that sin, he reserves it, he compromises it. Against other sins, and other sorts of sin, he m:iy strive; in this he allows himself. If the child of God sin, he does not allow himself in the sin : on the contrary, he grieves, he repents, he rises again: wiiich is a differ- ent thing from proceeding in a settled self-allowed course of sinning. Sins, which are compatible with sincerity, are much more likely to be objects of God's forgiveness, than sins that are not so; which is the case with allowed sins. Are there then some sins, in which we live continually ; some duties which we con- tinually neglect? we are not children of God; we are not sincere disciples of Christ. The allowed prevalence of any one known sin is sufficient to exclude us from the character of God's children. And we must be converted from that sin, in order to become such. Here then we must preach conversion. The habitual drunkard, the habitual fornicator, the habitual cheat must be converted. Now such a change of principle 104 SERMON VII. of opinion, and of sentiment, as no longer to allow ourselves in that, in which we did allow ourselves, and the actual sacrifice of a habit, the breaking off of a course of sinful indulgence, or of unfair gain, in pur- suance of the new and serious views which we have formed of these subjects, is a conversion. The break- ing off of a habit, especially when we had placed much of our gratification in it, is alone so great a thing, and such a step in our christian life, as to merit the name of conversion. Then as to the time of our conversion, there can be little question about that. The drunkard was converted, when he left off drink- ing; the fornicator, when he gave up his criminal in- dulgences, haunts and connexions; the cheat, when he quitted dishonest practices, however gainful and successful: provided, in these several cases, that reli- gious views and motives influenced the determination, and a religious character accompanied and followed these sacrifices. In these two cases, therefore, men must be con- verted, and live, or remain unconverted and die. And the time of conversion can be ascertained. There must that pass within them, at some particular as- signable time, which is properly a conversion, and will, all their lives, be remembered as such. This description, without all doubt, comprehends great numbers: and it is each person's business to settle with himself, whether he be not of the number; if he be, he sees what is to be done. SERMON VII. 105 But I am willing to believe, that there are very many christians, who neither have in any part of their lives been without influencing principles, nor have at any time been involved in the habit and course of a particular known sin, or have allowed themselves in such course and practice. Sins, without doubt, they have committed, more than sufficient to humble them to the dust; but they have, not, to repeat the same words again, lived in a course of any particular known sin, whether of commission or neglect ; and by deli- beration, and of aforethought, allowed themselves in such course. The conversion therefore, above de- scribed, cannot apply to, or be required of, such christians. To these we must preach, not conversion, but improvement. Improvement, continual improve- ment, must be our text and our topic: improvement in grace, in piety, in disposition, in virtue. Now, I put the " doctrine of improvement," not merely upon the consideration, which yet is founded upon express scripture authority, that, whatever improvement we make in ourselves, we are thereby sure to meliorate our future condition, receiving at the hand of God a proportionable reward for our efforts, our sacrifices, our perseverance, so that our labour is never lost, is never, as St. Paul expressly assures us, in vain in the Lord : though this, I say, be a firm and established ground to go upon; yet it is not the ground, upon which I, at present, place the necessity of a constant progressive improvement in virtue. I rather wish to lay down upon the subject this proposition, namely, that continual improvement is essential in the chris- O 106 SERMON VII. tian character, as an evidence of its sincerity; that, if what we have hitherto done in religion has been done from truly religious motives, we shall necessarily go on; that, if our religion be real, it cannot stop. There is no standing still ; it is not compatible with the nature of the subject; if the principles, which actuated us, be principles of goodness, they must continue to actuate us; and, under this continued stimulus and influence, we must ne.cessarily grow better and better. If this effect do not take place, the conclusion is, that our principles are weak, or hollow, or unsound. Unless we find ourselves grow better, we are not right. For example, if our transgressions do not become fewer and fewer, it is to be feared, that we have left off striving against sin, and then we are not sincere. I apprehend, moreover, that Avith no man living can there be a ground for stopping, as though there was nothing more left for him to be done. If any man bad this reason for stopping, it vi'as the Apostle Paul. Yet did he stop? or did he so judge? Hear his own ac- count; " This I do, forgetting those things, that are behind, (those things whereunto I have already attain- ed,) and looking forward to those things that are before (to still further improvement,) I press towards the mark for the prize of the high calling of God in Christ Jesus." This was not stopping: it was pressing on. The truth is, in the way of christian improvement there is business for the best; there is enough to be done for all. SERMON VII. J07 First: In this stage of tlie christian life, it is fit to suppose, that there are no enormous crimes, such as mankind universally condemn and cry out against, at present committed by us: yet less faults, still clearly faults, are not unfrequent with us, are too easily ex- cused, too soon repeated. This must be altered. Secondly: We may not avowedly be engaged in an} course or habit of known sin; being at the time con- scious of such sin, but we may continue in some prac- tices, which our consciences cannot, and would not, upon examination, appro\'e, and in which we have al- lowed the wrongness of the practice to be screened from our sight by general usage, or by the example of persons, of whom we think well. This is not a course to be proceeded in longer. Conscience, our own con- science, is to be our guide in all things. ^ Thirdly: We may not absolutely omit any duty to our families, our station, our neighbourhood, or the public, with which we are acquainted, but might not these duties be more effectually performed, if they were gone about with more diligence than we have hitherto used? And might not further means and op- portunities of doing good be found out, if we took sufficient pains to inquire and to consider ? Fourthly: Again; Even where less is to be blamed in our lives, much may remain to be set right in our hearts, our tempers, and dispositions. Let our affec- tions grow more and more pure and holy; our hearts 108 SERMON VII. more and more lifted up to God; and loosened from this present world, not from its duties; but from its passions, its temptations, its over anxieties and great selfishness ; our souls cleansed from the dross and cor- ruption, which they have contracted in their passage through it. Fifthly: It is no slight work to bring our tempers to what they should be : gentle, patient, placable, com- passionate; slow to be offended, soon to be appeased; free from envy, which, though a necessary, is a diffi- cult attainment; free from bursts of anger; from aver- sions to particular persons, which is hatred; able heartily to rejoice with them that do rejoice, and, from true tenderness of mind, weeping, even when we can do no more, with them that weep; in a word, to put on charity with all those qualities, with which St. Paul hath clothed it, 1 Cor. xiii. which read for this purpose. Sixthly: Whilst any good can be done by us, we shall not fail to do it; but even when our powers of active usefulness fail, which not seldom happens, there still remains that last, that highest, that most difficult, and, perhaps, most acceptable duty to our Creator, resignation to his blessed will in the privations and pains and afflictions, with which we are visited; thank- fulness to him for all that is spared to us, amidst much that is gone; for any mitigation of our sufferings, any degree of ease, and comfort, and support, and assis- tance which we experience. Every advanced life, every life, of sickness, or misfortune, affords materials for SERMON VII. 109 virtuous feelings. In a word, I am persuaded, that' there is no state whatever of christian trial, varied and various as it is, in which there will not be found both matter and room for improvement; in which a true christian will not be incessantly striving, month b} month, and year by year, to grow sensibly better and better, and in which his endeavours, if sincere, and assisted, as, if sincere, they may hope to be assisted by God's grace, will not be rewarded with success. SERMON Vlll. PRAYER IN IMITATION OF CHRIST. Luke, v. 16. " And he withdrew himself into the wilderness and prayedy 1 HE imitation of our Saviour is justly held out to us, as a rule of life ; but then there are many things, in which we cannot imitate him. What depends upon his miraculous character must necessarily surpass our en- deavours, and be placed out of the reach of our imita- tion. This reason makes those particulars, in which we are able to follow his example, of great importance to be observed by us; because it is to these that our hopes of taking him for our pattern, of treading in his footsteps, is necessarily confined. Now, our Lord's piety is one of these particulars. We can, if we be so minded, pray to God, as he did. We can aim at the spirit, and warmth and earnestness of his devotions ; we can use at least, those occasions, and that mode of devotion, which his example points out to us. SERMON VIII. 1]1 It is to be remarked, that a fulness o{ mental devo- tion was the spring and source of our Lord's visible piety. And this state of mind we must acquire. It con- sists in this : in a habit of turning our thoughts to- Mards God, whenever they are not taken up with some particular engagement. P^very man has some subject or other, to which his thoughts turn, when they are not particularly occupied. In a good christian this subject is God, or what appertains to him. A good christian, walking in his fields, sitting in his chamber, lying upon his bed, is thinking of God. His medita- tions dra\v, of their own accord, to that object, and then his thoughts kindle up his devotions; and devotion never burns so bright, or so warm, as when it is light- ed up from within. The immensity, the stupendous nature of the adorable Being who made, and who sup- ports every thing about us, his grace, his love, his condescension to'>\ards his reasonable and moral crea- tures, that is, towards men; the good things, which he has placed within our reach, the heavenly happi- ness, which he has put it in our power to obtain ; the infinite moment of our acting well and right, so as not to miss of the great reward, and not only to miss of our reward, but to sink into perdition ; such reflections will not fail of generating de\otion, of moving within us either prayer, or thanksgiving, or both. This is mental devotion. Perhaps the diflference between a religious and an irreligious character depends more upon this mental devotion, than upon any other thing. The difference will show itself in men's lives and con versations, in their dealins^s with mankind, and in the 112 SERMON VIII. various duties and offices of their station; but it origi- nates and proceeds from a difference in their internal habits of mind, with respect to God, in the habit of thinking of him in private, and of what relates to him;. in cultivating these thoughts, or neglecting them; in- viting them, or driving them from us; in forming, or in having formed a habit and custom, as to this point, unobserved and unobservable by others; (because it passes in the mind, which no one can see,) but of the most decisive consequence to our spiritual character and immortal interests. This mind was in Christ: a deep, fixed, and constant piety. The expressions of it we have seen in all the forms, which could bespeak correctness and sincerity ; but the principle itself lay deep in his divine soul ; the expressions likewise were occasional, more or fewer, as occasions called, or op- portunities offered, but the principle fixed and con- stant, uninterrupted, unremitted. But again, our Lord, whose mental piety was so un- questionable, so ardent, and so unceasing, did not, nevertheless, content himself with that. He thqughtfit, we find, at sundry times, and, I doubt not also, very frequently, to draw it forth in actual prayer, to clothe it with words, to betake himself to visible devotion, to retire to a mountain for this express purpose, to withdraw himself a short distance from his companions, to kneel down, to pass the whole night in prayer, or in a place, devoted to prayer. Let all, who feel their hearts impregnated with religious fervor, remember this ex- ample : remember, that this disposition of the heart SERMON VIIT. 113 ought to vent itself in actual prayer; let them not either be afraid nor ashamed, nor suffer any person, nor any thing to keep them from this holy exercise. They will find the devout dispositions of their souls strengthened, gratified, confirmed. This exhortation may not be necessary to the generality of pious tem- pers; they will naturally follow their propensity, and it will naturally carry them to prayer. But some, even good men, are too abstracted in their ^vay of thinking upon this subject; they think, that since God secth and regardeth the heart, if their devotion be there^ if it be within, all outward signs and expressions of it are su- pei-fluous. It is enough to answer, that our blessed Lord did not so think. He had all the fulness of devo- tion in his soul, nevertheless, he thought it not super- fluous to utter and pronoinice audible prayer to God; and not only so, but to retire and withdraw himself from other engagements; nay even from his most in- timate and favoured companions, expressly for this purpose. Again: Our Lord's retirement to prayer appears commonly to have followed some signal act and dis- play of his divine powers. He did every thing to the glory of God; he referred his divine powers to his Fa- ther's gift ; he made them the subject of his thankful- ness, inasmuch as tliey advanced his great work. He followed them by his devotions. Now every good gift Cometh down from the Father of lights. Whether they be natural, or whether they be supernatural, the facul- ties, which we possess, are by God's donation; wherefore P 114 SERMON VIII. any successful exercise of these faculties, any instance, in which we have been capable of doing something good, properly and truly so, either for the community which is best of all, for our neighbourhood, for our fa- milies, nay even for ourselves, ought to stir and awaken our gratitude to God, and to call forth that gratitude into actual devotion; at least, this is to imitate our blessed Lord, so far as we can imitate him at all: it is adopting into our lives the principle which regu- lated him. Again : It appears, on one occasion at least, that our Lord's retirement to prayer was preparatory to an im- portant work, which he was about to execute. The manner, in which St. Luke states this instance, is thus: " And it came to pass in those days, that he went out into a mountain to pray, and continued all night in prayer to God; and when it was day, he called unto him his disciples, and of them he chose twelve, whom also he named apostles." From this statement I infer, that the night passed by our Lord in prayer, was pre- paratory to the office, which he was about to execute; and bureiy an important office it was; important to him; important to his religion; important to the whole world. Nor let it be said, that our Lord, after all, in one in- stance at least, was unfortunate in his choice: of the twelve one was a traitor. That choice was not error, a remarkable prophecy was to be fulfilled, and other purposes were to be answered, of which we cannoi now speak particularly. " I know," says our Lord, " whom I have chosen. " But let us confine ourselves" SERMON VIII. 115 to our observation. It was a momentous choice: it was ^^va decision of great consequence : and it was accord- ingly, on our Lord's part, preceded by prayer; not only so, but by a night spent in prayer. "He continued all night in prayer to God;" or, if you would rather so render it, in a house, set apart for prayer to God. Here, therefore, we have an example given us, which we both can imitate, and ought to imitate. Nothing of singular importance; nothing of extraordinary moment, either to ourselves or others, ought to be resolved upon, or undertaken, without prayer to God, without previ- ous devotion. It is a natural operation of piety to carry the mind to God, whenever any thing presses and weighs upon it: they, who feel not this tendency, have reason to accuse and suspect themselves of want of piety. Moreover, we have, first, the direct example of our Lord himself; I believe also, I may add, that we have the example and practice of good men, in all ages of the world. Again : We find our Lord resorting to prayer in his last extremity, and with an earnestness, I had almost said, a vehemence of devotion, proportioned to the oc- casion. The terms, in which the evangelists describe our Lord's devotion in the garden of Gethsemene, the evening preceding his death, are the strongest terms that could be used. As soon as he came to the place, he bid his disciples pray. When he was at the place, he said unto them, " Pray that ye enter not into temptation." This did not content him: this was not enough for the state and sufierings of his mind. He parted even from them. He withdrew about a 11(5 SERMON VIII. stone's cast, and kneeled down. Hear how his strug glc in prayer is described. Three times he came to his disciples, and returned again to prayer; thrice he kneeled down, at a distance from them, repeating the same words. Being in an agony, he prayed more ear- nestly : drops of sweat fell from his body, as if it had been great drops of blood ; yet in all this, throughout the whole scene, the constant conclusion of his prayer was, " not my will, but thine be done." It was the greatest occasion that ever was: and the earnestness of our Lord's prayer, the devotion of his soul, cor- responded with it. Scenes of deep distress await us alL It is in vain to expect to pass through the world, with- out falling into them. We have, in our Lord's exam- ple, a model for our behaviour, in the most severe and most trying of these occasions : afflicted, yet resigned; grieved and wounded, yet submissive ; not insensible of our sufferings, but increasing the ardor and fervency of our prayer, in proportion to the pain and acuteness of our feelings. But whatever may be the fortune of our lives, one great extremity, at least, the hour of approaching death, is certainly to be passed through. What ought then to occupy us? what can then support us? Prayer. Prayer, with our blessed Lord himself, was a refuge from the storm ; almost every word he uttered, during that tremendous scene, was prayer: prayer the most earnest, the most urgent; repeated, continued, pro- ceeding from the recesses of his soul ; private, soli- tary: prayer for deliverance; prayer for strength:, above every thing, prayer for resignation. SERMON IX. ON FILIAL PIETY. Genesis, xlvii. 12. '' And Joseph nourished his father, and his brethren, and all his father's household, with bread, according to their families.'^ Whoever reads the Bible at all, has read the his- tory of Joseph. It has universally attracted attention: and, without doubt, there is not one, but many points in it, which deserve to be noticed. It is a strong and plain example of the circuitous providence of God: that is to say, of his bringing about the ends and purposes of his providence, by seemingly casual and unsuspected means. That is a high doctrine, both of natural and revealed religion; and is clearly exemplified in this history. It is an useful example, at the same time, of the protection and final reward of virtue, though for a season oppressed and calumniated, or carried through a long series of distresses and misfortunes. I say. it is an useful example, if duly understood, and not ur- ged too far. It shows the protection of providence to be with virtue under all its difticultics: and this being believed upon good grounds, it is cnoutyh; for ibc 118 SERMON IX, virtuous man will be assured, that this protection will keep with him in and through all stages of his exis- tence—living and dying he is in his hands — and for the same reason that it accompanies him, like an in- visible guardian, through his trials, it will finally re- compense him. This is the true application of that doctrine of a directing providence, which is illustrated by the history of Joseph, as it relates to ourselves — I mean as it relates to those, who are looking forward to a future state. If we draw from it an opinion, or an expectation, that, because Joseph was at length re- \varded with riches and honours, therefore we shall be the same, we carry the example further than it will bear. It proves that virtue is under the protection of God, and will ultimately be taken care of and rewar- ded: but in what manner, and in what stage of our existence, whether in the present or the future, or in both, is left open by the example: and both may, and must depend, upon reasons, in a great measure, un- known to and incalculable by us. Again: The history of Joseph is a domestic ex- ample. It is an example of the ruinous consequences of partiality in a parent, and of the quarrels and con- tentions in a family, which naturally spring from such partiality. Again: It is a lesson to all schemers and confede- rates in guilt, to teach them this truth, that, when their scheme does not succeed, they are sure to quarrel timongst themselves, and to go into the utmost bitter- SERMON IX. 119 ness of mutual accusation and reproach; as the bre- thren of Joseph, you find, did. Again : It is a natural example of the eftect of ad- versity, in bringing men to themselves, to reflections upon their own conduct, to a sense and perception of many things, which had gone on, and might have gone on, unthought of and unperceived, if it had not been for some stroke of misfortune, which roused their at- tention. It was after the brethren of Joseph had been shut up by him in prison, and were alarmed, as they well might be, for their lives, that their consciences, so far as appears, for the first time, smote them: " We are verily guilty concerning our brother, in that wc saw the anguish of his soul, when he l)esought us, and would not hear." This is the natural and true effect of judgments in this world, to bring us to a knowledge of ourselves: that is to say, of those bad things in our lives, which have deserved the calamities, we arc made to suffer. These are all points in the history: but there is another point in Joseph's character, which I make choice of, as the subject of my present discourse; and that is, his dutifulness and affection to his father. Never was this virtue more strongly displayed. R runs, like a thread, through the whole narrative; and whether we regard it, as a quality to be admired, or, which would be a great deal better, as a quality to be imi- tatcd by us, so far as a great disparity of circumstances will allow of imitation, (which in principle it always 120 SERMON IX. will do,) it deserves to be considered with a separate and distinct attention. When a surprising course of events had given to Joseph, after a long series of years, a most unexpected opportunity of seeing his brethren in Egypt, the first question, which he asked them, was, " Is your father yet alive?" This appears from the account, which Reuben gave to Jacob, of the conference, which they had held with the great man of the country, whilst neither of them, as yet, suspected who he was. Joseph, you remember, had concealed himself, during their first journey, from the knowledge of his brethren; and it was not consistent with his disguise, to be more full and particular, than he was, in his inquiries. On account of the continuance of the famine in the land, it became necessary for the brethren of Joseph to go a second time into Egypt to seek corn, and a second time to produce themselves before the lord of the country. What had been Joseph's first question on the former visit, was his first question in this, " Is your father well, the old man of whom ye spake; is he yet alive?" And they answered, " Thy servant, our father, is in good health; he is yet alive:" and they bowed down their heads and made obeisance. Hitherto you observe all had passed in disguise. The brethren of Joseph knew nothing who they were speaking to; and Joseph was careful to preserve the secret. You will now ta!wc notice, how this affected SERMON IX. 121 disguise was broken, and how Joseph found himself forced, as it were, from the resolution, he had taken, of keeping his brethren in ignorance of his person. He had proposed, you read, to detain Benjamin ; the rest being perplexed beyond measure, and distressed by this proposal, Judah, approaching Joseph, presented a most earnest supplication for the deliverance of the child; offers A?mc//' to remain Joseph's prisoner, or slave, in his brother's place; and, in the conclusion, touches, unknowingly, upon a string, which vibrates with all the affections of the person, whom he was ad- dressing. " How shall I go up to my father, and the lad be not with me, lest peradventure I see the evil that shall come on my father?" The mention of this circumstance, and this person, subdued immediately the heart of Joseph : and produced a sudden, and, as it should seem, an undesigned premature discovery of himself to his astonished family. Then, that is, upon this circumstance being mentioned, Joseph could not refrain himself; and, after a little preparation, Joseph said unto his brethren, " I am Joseph." The great secret being now disclosed; what was the conversation, which immediately followed? The next word from Joseph's mouth was, " doth my father yet live?" and his brethren could not answer him; sur- prise had overcome their faculty of utterance. After comforting, however, and encouraging his brethren, who seemed to sink under the intelligence, Joseph proceeds, " Haste ye, and go up to my father, and say unto him, thus saith thy son Joseph, God hath Q 122 SERMON IX. made me lord of all Egypt: come down unto me, tarry not and thou shalt dwell in the land of Goshen, and thou shalt be near unto me, and there will I nourish thee, (for yet there are five years of famine,) lest thou, and thy household, and all that thou hast come to poverty. And ye shall tell my father of all my glory in Eygpt, and of all that ye have seen : and ye shall haste, and bring down my father hither." It is well known, that Jacob yielded to this invitation, and passed over with his family into Egypt. The next thing to be attended to, is the reception, which he then met with, from his recovered son. " And Joseph made ready his chariot, and went up to meet Israel his father, to Goshen; and presented himself unto him, and he fell on his neck, and wept on his neck a good while. And Israel said untQ Joseph, Now let me die, since I have seen thy face; because thou art yet alive." Not content with these strong expres- sions of personal duty and respect, Joseph now availed himself of his power and station to fix his father's family in the enjoyment of those comforts and advan- tages, which the land of Egypt afforded in the univer- sal dearth, which then oppressed that region of the world. For this purpose, as well as to give another public token to his family, and to the country, of the deep reverence, with which he regarded his parent, he introduced the aged patriarch to Pharaoh himself. " And Joseph brought in Jacob his father, and set bim before Pharaoh: and Jacob blessed Pharaoh." SERMON IX. 123 And the sovereign of Egypt received a benediction from this venerable stranger. " And Joseph, (the ac- count proceeds,) nourished his father, and his brethren, and all his father's household, with bread, according to their families." It remains to be seen, how Joseph conducted him- self towards his father, on the two occasions, in which alone it was left for him to discharge the office, and tes- tify the affection of a son; in his sickness, and upon his death. "And it came to pass (we read) after these things, one told Joseph, behold, thy father is sick: and he took with him his two sons, Manasseh and Ephraim." Joseph delayed not, you find, to leave the court of Pharaoh, the cares and greatness of his station in it, in order to pay the last visit to his dying parent; and to place before him the hopes of his house and family, in the persons of his tvvo sons. " And Israel beheld Joseph's sons, and said, who are these? And Joseph said unto his father, They are my sons, whom God hath given me in this place. And he said. Bring them, I pray thee, unto me, and I will bless them. (Now the eyes of Israel were dim, so that he could not see.) And he brought them near unto him; and he kissed them, and embraced them : and Israel said unto Joseph, I had not thought to see thy face: and lo! God hath showed me also thy seed. And Joseph brought them out from between his knees, and he bowed himself with his face to the earth." Nothing can well be more solemn or interesting, than this interview; more honourable or consoling to old age; or more expres- 124 SERMON IX. sive of the dignified piety of the best of sons, and the greatest of men. We now approach the last scene of this eventful history, and the best testimony, which it was possible for Joseph to give, of the love and reverence, with which he had never ceased to treat his father, and that was upon the occasion of his death, and the honours which he paid to his memory ; honours, vain no doubt to the dead, but so far as they are significations of gratitude or affection, justly deserving of commenda- tion and esteem. " And when Jacob had made an end of commanding his sons, he gathered up his feet into the bed, and yielded up the ghost, and was gathered unto his people. And Joseph fell upon his father's face, and wept upon him, and kissed him. And Joseph commanded his servants the physicians to embalm his father; and the physicians embalmed Israel. And the Egyptians mourned for him threescore and ten days. And Joseph went up to bury his father: and with him went up all the servants of Pharaoh, the elders of his house, and all the elders of the land of Egypt. And all the house of Joseph, and his brethren, and his father's house : and there went up with him both chariots and horsemen: and it was a very great company. And they came to the threshing floor of Atad, which is beyond Jordan ; and there they mourned with a great and a very sore lamentation : and he made a mourning for his father seven days." Thus died, and thus was honoured in his death, the preserver of the Jewish nation, who, amidst many SERMON IX. 125 mercies, and many visitations, sudden and surprising- vicissitudes of afflictions and joy, found it the greatest blessing of his varied and eventful life, that he had been the father of a dutifiU and aifcctionate son. It has been said, and as I believe, truly, that there is no virtuous quality belonging to the human character, of which there is not some distinct and eminent exam- ple to be found in the Bible; no relation, in which we can be placed, no duty which we have to discharge, but that we may observe a pattern for it in the sacred history. Of the duty of children to parents, of a son to his father, maintained under great singularities and variations of fortune, undiminished, nay, rather in- creased by absence, by distance, by unexampled suc- cess, by remote and foreign connexions, you have seen, in this most interesting and conspicuous of all histories, as amiable an instance, as can be met with in the records of the world, in the purest, best ages of its existence. SERMON X. (PART I.) TO THINK LESS OF OUR VIRTUES, AND MORE OF OUR SINS. Psalm li. 3. ''''My sill is ever before wze." 1 HERE is a propensity in the human mind, very general and very natural, yet, at the same time, un- favourable in a high degree to the christian character ; which is, that, when we look back upon our lives, our recollection dwells too much upon our virtues; our sins are not, as they ought to be, before us; we think too much of our good qualities, or good actions, too little of our crimes, our corruptions, our fallings oft" and declension from God's laws, our defects and weaknesses. These we sink and overlook, in medi- tating upon our good properties. This, I allow, is natural ; because, undoubtedly, it is more agreeable to have our minds occupied with the cheering retrospect of virtuous deeds, than with the bitter, humiliating remembrance of sins and follies. But, because it is natural, it does not follow that it is good. It may be the bias and inclination of our minds; and vet neither SERMON X. 127 right, nor safe. Wheii I say that it is wrong, I mean, that it is not the true christian disposition; and when I say that it is dangerous, I have a view to its effects upon our salvation. I say, that it is not the true christian disposition j for, first, how does it accord with what we read in the christian scriptures, wliether we consider the precepts, which are found there applicable to the subject, or the conduct and example of christian characters? Now, one precept, and that of Christ himself, you find to be this: " Ye, when ye shall have done all those things, which are commanded you, say, we are un- profitable servants; we have done that which was our duty to do." Luke, xvii. 10. It is evident, that this strong admonition was intended, by our Saviour, to check in his disciples an over- weaning opinion of their own merit. It is a very remarkable passage. I think none throughout the New Testament more so. And the intention, with which the words were spoken, was evidently to check and repel that opinion of merit, which is sure to arise from the habit of fixing our con- templations so much upon our good qualities, and so little upon our bad ones. Yet this habit is natural, and was never prohibited by any teacher, except by our Saviour. With him it was a great fault, by reason of its inconsistency with the favourite principle of his re- ligion, humility. I call humility not only a duty, but a principle. Humblc-mindedness is a christian prin- ciple, if there be one; above all, humble-mindedness 128 SERMON X. towards God. The servants to vv.hom our Lord's ex- pression refers, were to be humble-minded, we may presume, towards one another; but towards their Lord, the only answer, the only thought, the only sen- timent was to be, *' we are unprofitable servants." And who were they, that were instructed by our Lord, to bear constantly this reflection about with them? Were they sinners, distinctively so called? were they grie- vous, or notorious sinners? nay, the very contrary; they were persons, " who had done all those things, that were commanded them!" This is precisely the description which our Lord gives of the persons, to whom his lesson was directed. Therefore, you see, that an opinion of merit is discouraged, even in those, who had the best pretensions to entertain it; if any pre- tensions were good. But an opinion of merit, an over- weaning opinion of merit, is sure to grow up in the heart, whenever we accustom ourselves to think much of our virtues and little of our vices. It is generated, fostered, and cherished by this train of meditation we have been describing. It cannot be otherwise. And if we would repress it; if we would correct ourselves in this respect; if we would bring ourselves into a capa- city of complying Math our Saviour's rule, we must alter our turn of thinking; we must reflect more upon our sins, and less upon our virtues. Depend upon it, that we shall view our characters more truly ; we shall view them much more safely, when we view them in their defects and faults and infirmities, than when we view them only, or principally, on the side of their good qualities; even when these good qualities ar€ SERMON X. 129 real. 1 suppose, and I have all along supposed, that the good parts of our characters, which, as I contend, too much attract our attention, are, nevertheless, real; and I suppose this, because our Saviour's parable supposes the same. Another great christian rule is, " work out your own salvation with fear and tixmbling." (Philip, ii. i2.) These significant words, " fear and trembling," do not accord with the state of a mind, which is all contentment, satisfaction, and self-complacency; and which is brought into that state by the habit of viewing and regarding those good qualities, which a person believes to belong to himself, or those good actions, which he remembers to have performed. The precept much better accords with a mind, anxious, fearful, and apprehensive, and made so by a sense of sin. But a sense of sin exists not, as it ought to do, in that breast, which is in the habit of meditating chiefly upon its virtues. I can very well believe, that two persons of the same character in truth, may, nevertheless, view themselves in very different lights, according as one is accustomed to look chiefly at his good qualities, the other chiefl}' at his transgressions and imperfections; and I say, that this latter is the disposition for working out our salvation agreeably to St. Paul's rule and me- thod, that is, *' with fear and trembling: " the other is not. But further; there is upon this subject a great deal to be learnt from the examples, which the New Testa- ment sets before us. Precepts are short, necessarily R 150 SERMON X. must be so, take up but little room, and, for that rea- son, do not always strike with the force, or leave the impression, which they ought to do; but examples of character, when the question is concerning character, and vvhat is the proper character, have more weight and body in the consideration, and take up more room in our minds, than precepts. Now, from one end of the New Testament to the other, you will find the evangelical character to be contrition. You hear little of virtue or righteousness; but you hear perpetually of the forgiveness of sins. With the first christian teachers, " repent, repent" was the burthen of their exhortations ; the almost constant sound of their voice. Does not this strain of preaching show, that the preach- ers wished all, who heard them, to think much more of offences than of merits ? Nay further, with respect to themselves, whenever this contemplation of righteous- ness came in their way, it came in their way only to be renounced, as natural, perhaps, and also grateful, to human feelings, but as inconsistent and irreconcil- able with the christian condition. It might do for a heathen, but it was the reverse of every thing that is christian. The turn of thought, which I am recommending, or, rather, which I find it necessary to insist upon, as an essential part of the christian character, is strongly seen in one particular passage of St. Paul's writings; namely, in the third chapter to the Philippians. " If any other man thinketh whereof he might trust in the flesh, I more; circumcised the eighth day, of the SERMON X. 131 stock of Israel, of the tribe of Benjamin, an Hebrew of the Hebrews; as touching the law, a Pharisee; concerning zeal, persecuting the church ; touching the righteousness which is in the law, blameless." These were points, which, at that time of da} , were thought to be grounds of confidence and exultation. But this train of thought no sooner rises in his mind, than the apostle checks it, and turns from it to an anxious view of his own deficiencies. " If by any means I might attain unto the resurrection of the dead." These are the words of an anxious man. *' Not," then he proceeds, " not as though I had already attained, either were already perfect; but I follow after, if that I may apprehend that for which also I am apprehended of Christ Jesus. Brethren, I count not myself to have apprehended; but this one thing I do, forgetting those things whieh are behind, and reaching forth unto those things which are before, I press towards the mark, for the prize of the high calling of God in Christ Jesus." In this passage you see, that, withdrawing his mind from all notions of perfection, attainment, accomplishment, security, he fixes it upon his deficiencies. Then he tells you, that forgetting^ that is, expressly putting out of his mind and his thought the progress and advance, which he had already made, he casts his eyes and attention upon those qualities, in which he was short and deficient, upon what remained for him yet to do; and this I take to be the true christian way of proceeding. " Forget those things that are behind ;" put out of your thoughts lS:i SERMON X. the anaiQiDei^s and progress yoa bare already made, in order to see fiillT toot defects and imperfectians. In anotber passng^. foimd in a chapter, 'sviih Trhich all are acqoainted, the 15di erf the Corintbj,Lns, our Apostk^ baring occasian to compare his situaticm vidi tiol: of tbe other Apostles, is led to sar : *• I la- ixiored more ahuadantly than they all." St. Paul's laboors in the gDspel, labours, which coosumed his "s^hoie Sfe, were srorely what he might reject upoe with complaceDCT and satisfartion. If such re^ecticms were proper in any case, they were proper in his. Yet obserre bow they are checked and qualified. The momeEt he had said, " I laboured more abun- dandy thsi they aH," he added, as it were correcting himself for the expression, " yet not I, but the grace of God- which was with me.'" He magnifies not him- self, but the grace erf God. which was with him.. In the jext place you will obsene. that, thwigh the coti- sciousDess cihis labours, painful, inde&SigaUe labours. and meriiorious labours, if ever man's were so; I say, thai though the consciousQess erf these was present to his mirid at tbe time, yet it did not hinder him fhim. feeling, with the deepest abasement and 5elf-degra