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 Parker, Joel, 1799-1873. 
 Sermons on various subjects 
 
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SERMONS. 
 
i:!^:-^!'.^^ By Jom r^-fji LVy FHi-A!.'. r.^C^UERKSaryFS By^il'SLI^.S S.^i 
 
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 /52_ 
 
SERMONS 
 
 ON 
 
 VARIOUS SUBJECTS. 
 
 / ^^ 
 
 JOEL-'PARKEK, D.D. 
 
 WITH A FORTH AIT OF THE AUTHOR. 
 
 PHILADELPHIA: 
 LIPPINCOTT, GRAMBO, AND CO. 
 
 1852. 
 
Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year, 1852, by 
 
 LIPPINCOTT, GRAMBO, AND CO. 
 In the Clerk's Ofl&ce of the District Court of the United States. 
 
 PHILADELPHIA: 
 T. K. AND p. G. COLLINS, PRINTERS. 
 
S /fl/n /7'?n^u^^^t^'^-^ 
 
 TO 
 THE ELDERS, TRUSTEES, AND MEMBERS 
 
 OP 
 
 THE CLINTON STREET CHURCH AND CONGREGATION 
 
 IN 
 PHILADELPHIA, 
 
 THIS VOLUME 
 
 IS RESPECTFULLY DEDICATED BY THEIR LATE PASTOR, 
 AND EVER-ABIDING FRIEND, 
 
 THE AUTHOR. 
 

 
 PREFACE. 
 
 The Sermons contained in this volume are 
 given to the press^ not so much for the sake of 
 publishing them, as for the purpose of furnish- 
 ing a few discourses as mementos of friendship 
 for those who have honored me with an attend- 
 ance upon my ministry. The selection has 
 been without much reference to the finish 
 of their composition, but more to gratify the 
 expressed desires of various persons who have 
 asked that sermons which they remembered, 
 as having awakened a peculiar interest in 
 their minds, might be included in the selection. 
 
 The occasion of the publication will be suf- 
 ficiently explained by the following corre- 
 spondence. The kind expressions contained 
 in the note requesting such a publication, and 
 the response that follows, I desire to see per- 
 manently connected with the volume, both 
 because they furnish the best apology for 
 allowing such a number of discourses, most of 
 
VIU PREFACE. 
 
 which were written without any expectation 
 of their seeing the light, to be published, and 
 the sentiments of mutual friendship will, I 
 hope, be strengthened and prolonged by such 
 a preservation of the expressions themselves. 
 The first note Avas signed by the elders of 
 the Clinton Street Church, and a number of 
 the congregation, amounting to thirty-five in 
 all. The long list of names is omitted as not 
 necessary, and as, perhaps, not agreeing with 
 the taste and feelings of all the subscribers. 
 
 Philadelphia, March 19, 1852. 
 The Rev. Joel Parker, D. D., New York. 
 
 Rev. and Dear Sir : Desiring to retain some lasting 
 memorial of your teachings as our Pastor, we, whose names 
 are undersigned, take the liberty to express the desire thafc 
 some of those valuable discourses, to which we have been 
 permitted to listen, may be given to the public in a printed 
 form. 
 
 Although we believe, if you would encourage us to hope 
 for such a work, a subscription might be readily obtained 
 among your friends for such a number of copies as would 
 at least defray the expense of publication, yet we do not 
 wish you to assume any responsibility, or to take upon your- 
 self any labor or trouble, in respect to the work, unless a 
 sufficient subscription shall first be obtained. 
 With sentiments of warm regard. 
 
 We remain yours truly, 
 
 G. W. FOBES, 
 C. S. WURTS, &c. 
 
PREFACE. IX 
 
 New York, March 26, 1852. 
 
 Respected Friends : Your kind favor, expressing the 
 desire that some of my " Discourses may be given to the 
 public in a printed form,^^ is before me. If anything con- 
 nected with the issue of discourses possessing no special 
 claim to the public attention could afford me pleasure in 
 appearing as an author, especially in a work so little sought 
 by general readers as a volume of Sermons, it is the assur- 
 ance derived from your communication that the book will 
 be read with the partialities of the friendship which has 
 grown up between us in the sacred and happy relationship 
 of Pastor and People. 
 
 I should be very sorry that a few persons should be bur- 
 dened with the expense of the proposed work, but should 
 the subscription list be so extended by numbers as to ren- 
 der the outlay light to individuals, it will afford me great 
 pleasure to commence immediately the preparation of the 
 volume for the press. 
 
 With sentiments of the warmest regard, I subscribe my- 
 self your attached friend and obedient servant, 
 
 JOEL PARKER. 
 
 Messrs. G. W. Fobes, Charles S. Wurts, and others. 
 
4 
 
 ^ 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 SERMON I. 
 
 Men disappointed at the judgment . 
 
 •SERMON II. 
 The struggle between justice and mercy — a 
 
 new year's DISCOURSE . . 
 
 •SERMON III. 
 The impetration of mercy; or, the blind beggar 
 
 SERMON IV. 
 The christian falling asleep .... 
 
 SERMON V. 
 Concealed religion 
 
 SERMON VI. 
 The great salvation 
 
 SERMON VII. 
 The great salvation — the escape 
 
 SERMON VIII. 
 The great salvation — neglect 
 
 PAGE 
 
 13 
 
 37 
 
 56 
 
 72 
 
 92 
 
 110 
 
 128 
 
 141 
 
Xii CONTENTS. 
 
 . SERMON IX. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 The oood Samaritan 159 
 
 SERMON X. 
 Sinners emboldened by forbearance . .180 
 
 SERMON XI. 
 The power of the word of god . . .195 
 
 SERMON XII. 
 A father's influence 214 
 
 SERMON XIII. 
 Importance of gentle virtues .... 239 
 
 SERMON XIV. 
 
 Marriage of the king's son . . . .253 
 
 SERMON XY. 
 The speechless guest 273 
 
 SERMON XYI. 
 Requital of gifts demanded .... 290 
 
 SERMON XVII. 
 Practical atheism 310 
 
 SERMON XVIII. 
 Freedom from soul-murder .... 324 
 
 SERMON XIX. 
 The nature of faith 344 
 
^. ^V^^' 
 
 
 
 SERMON I. 
 
 MEN DISAPPOINTED AT THE JUDGMENT. 
 
 Strive to enter in at the strait gate : for many, I sat unto 
 YOU, will seek to enter in, and shall not be able, when once 
 
 THE MASTER OF THE HOUSE IS RISEN UP, AND HATH SHUT TO THE 
 DOOR, AND YE BEGIN TO STAND WITHOUT, AND TO KNOCK AT THE 
 DOOR, SAYING, LoRD, LORD, OPEN UNTO US ; AND HE SHALL ANSWER 
 AND SAY UNTO YOU, I KNOW YOU NOT WHENCE YE ABE: ThEN SHALL 
 YE BEGIN TO SAY, Wjl HAVE EATEN AND DRUNK IN THY PRESENCE, 
 AND THOU HAST TAUGHT IN OUR STREETS. BUT HE SHALL SAY, 1 
 TELL YOU, I KNOW YOU NOT WHENCE YE ARE ; DEPART FROM ME, ALL 
 YE WORKERS OF INIQUITY. Luke XIII. 24 — 27. 
 
 ^' Then said one unto him, Lord, are there few that 
 be saved?" This is a question of thrilling interest. 
 The human race, in the whole of its history, may 
 amount to a number surpassing all the calculations 
 of our arithmetic. We read in one place of the re- 
 deemed as being a great multitude that no man can 
 number. Yet, our Saviour treats the question as ra- 
 ther curious than practical. He avoids a direct an- 
 swer, and calls the attention of the multitude to the 
 fact that many will fail of heaven who confidently ex- 
 pect to attain to the enjoyments of that happy state. 
 Upon this fact he founds an earnest exhortation. 
 2 
 
14 SERxMON I. 
 
 "Strive to enter in at the strait gate." The Greek 
 verb agonidzesthe, rendered strive, is the very term 
 from which our word agonize is derived. It refers, like 
 the word agonize, when applied to action, to the most 
 strenuous kind of endeavor. The term strait has not 
 here the meaning commonly attached to it, as opposed 
 to crooked, but is analogous to the cognate terra 
 straitened, as opposed to broad, and easy of entrance. 
 In the metaphorical language here employed, the gate 
 does not represent, as has been sometimes supposed, 
 the door of entrance upon a religious life. That is 
 to say, an entrance through it does not signify conver- 
 sion. It is a gate rather at the last end of a religious 
 life, through which the soul is admitted into heaven. 
 The striving enjoined, then, is a continuous life-long 
 struggle to secure an entrance into heaven at last. 
 
 The motive by which this course of life is urged, 
 is the fact that great numbers will seek to go in 
 after it is too late to make any new preparations, 
 and so will be overwhelmed with the most bitter dis- 
 appointment. In our common Bible there is a period 
 after the word able, so that it is ordinarily read: 
 "Many will seek to enter in, but shall not be able." 
 The sense requires, however, and we have nothing 
 else to guide us, since the punctuation of the sacred 
 Scriptures is not inspired; the sense requires that 
 the passage be read as in the announcement of the 
 text : " Many, I say unto you, will seek to enter in, 
 and shall not be able, when once the master of the 
 house is risen up, and hath shut to the door, and ye 
 
MEN DISAPPOINTED AT THE JUDGMENT. 15 
 
 begin to stand without, and to knock at the door, say- 
 ing, Lord, Lord, open unto us; and he shall answer and 
 say unto you, I know you not whence ye are. Then 
 shall ye begin to say. We have eaten and drunk in 
 thy presence, and thou hast taught in our streets. 
 But he shall say, I know you not whence ye are; 
 depart from me, all ye workers of iniquity." The 
 colloquy that is here represented as taking place 
 between the disappointed multitudes and their Lord 
 and Saviour, is a very spirited dramatic representa- 
 tion of the sentiments which will characterize the 
 parties in the last great assize. I suppose none of 
 my hearers are in danger of being misled by it, if 
 we frequently advert to it, as if such a conversation 
 would literally occur between Christ and the finally 
 unconverted. The dialogue is instinct with life not 
 only, but it is also a most forcible and truthful repre- 
 sentation of the expectations and the disappointment 
 of thousands who have not the most distant idea of 
 being rejected by their Saviour in the day of judg- 
 ment. 
 
 From our text thus explained, we may justly derive 
 the following 
 
 PROPOSITION. 
 
 GREAT NUMBERS WILL BE BITTERLY DISAPPOINTED IN 
 THE DAY OF JUDGMENT. 
 
 Of this fact no one can entertain a doubt who be- 
 lieves that salvation depends, in any sense, upon an 
 earnest endeavor on the part of men to secure it. 
 
16 SERMON I. 
 
 What prospective good is there, that men are not con- 
 tinually losing through a want of diligent and earn- 
 est endeavor. The fairest prospects for ^Yorldly com- 
 petence, for reputation, for health and long life are 
 every day blighted by the misconduct and criminal 
 indifference of men to their earthly interests. Is it 
 reasonable to suppose that a different law prevails in 
 respect to those interests that are spiritual and eter- 
 nal? May not misconduct and indolence, with equal 
 propriety, occasion spiritual bankruptcy, and blight 
 every prospect of the immortal soul ? And does not 
 the same disease in man's nature, his misconduct and 
 improvidence, lead him to the most pitiable delusions 
 in regard to his everlasting well-being ? 
 
 Perhaps there was no danger in regard to which 
 our Saviour uttered more earnest warnings, than the 
 danger of self-deception. In this respect he often 
 addressed himself with the utmost boldness to the 
 visible church. What a picture did he draw of the 
 moral condition of the Pharisees, and of their future 
 prospects. Yet they deemed themselves righteous, 
 and despised others. To one of his early churches, 
 that of Laodicea, he says: " Thou smjest, I am rich, 
 and increased with goods, and have need of nothing ; 
 and knowest not that thou art wretched and misera- 
 ble, and poor, and blind, and naked." Speaking of 
 the whole visible church, he compares them to ten 
 virgins, five of whom were wise, and five were foolish. 
 Those that were foolish expected admittance to the 
 marriage, and their call of Lord, Lord, open unto us. 
 
MEN DISAPPOINTED AT THE JUDGMENT. 17 
 
 represents, as in our text, the disappointment of a 
 portion of the visible church, at the day of judgment. 
 So, -when he would portray the dangers of covetous- 
 ness, he paints before our eyes a man so absorbed 
 with the enlarging of his store-houses, that he exer- 
 cises no care for a future world till there falls upon 
 his ears, like a clap of thunder, the awful announce- 
 ment, " Thou fool, this night thy soul shall be required 
 of thee ; then whose shall those things be which thou 
 hast provided?" To intimate that this surprise and 
 disappointment belonged to the whole class repre- 
 sented by this unhappy man, our Saviour adds: "So 
 is every one that layeth up treasure for himself, and 
 is not rich towards God." 
 
 But, if there were any room for doubt in regard to 
 the fact that many will be bitterly disappointed in 
 the day of judgment, I think th^it doubt might be 
 dispelled from every reflecting mind, by propounding 
 a single question to all those who are here present. 
 The question is this, and I beg of every individual to 
 put it to himself, and to inspect his own interior con- 
 victions for an answer. Do you expect that Jesus 
 Christ, in the last day, will say to you, " Depart from 
 me," and that you shall bid a final farewell to hope 
 and heaven, and sink down amid the wailings of the 
 lost ? You expect no such thing. You will be bitterly 
 disappointed if you fail of heaven. 
 
 But, in what respect will men be disappointed in 
 the day of judgment? Doubtless they will be disap- 
 pointed in being rejected by their Judge, and in finding 
 
 2* 
 
18 SERMON r. 
 
 themselves ,snl)jcet to a doom of such severity. But, 
 as tills will involve numerous mistakes in other thinccs 
 closely connected -with their final destiny, we may say 
 that their disappointment will extend to all these par- 
 ticulars. The whole ground will be covered, by con- 
 sidering how they will be disappointed in respect to 
 
 Tm: PUNISHMENT, 
 
 Its subjects, and 
 
 TlIEIIl OWN CONNECTION WITH IT. 
 
 The greater proportion of those avIio have listened 
 to the gospel from their childhood, have reflected 
 but little on the grounds of future punishment. They 
 have looked upon the foretold doom of the wicked as 
 a threat uttered for the purpose of restraint. They 
 imagine that, in most cases, it w ill be Avithdrawn after 
 a temporary end- shall have been achieved by it. 
 AVhen the punishment is actually inflicted, they fancy 
 it will be the result of a deeply excited Divine in- 
 dignation. They know that God possesses infinite 
 power, and it seems not very strange that he should 
 be provoked, by frequent and aggravated offences, to 
 employ it all against a certain class of incorrigible 
 ofl'enders. They will be vastly disappointed when 
 they shall sec that God has no passions to be grati- 
 fied ; that he possesses not one desire to render any 
 of his creatures miserable to any degree, for a sin- 
 gle moment. They will see that nothing but pure 
 unl)ounded benevolence ever leads him to punish, 
 and that he looks upon deference to his authority. 
 
MEN DISAPPOINTED AT THE JUDGMENT. 19 
 
 as the God of holiness, as the only possible means of 
 securing perfect happiness for creatures. Hence tlie 
 highest good of the subjects of his empire requires 
 him to promulgate a law demanding the best possible 
 action, and to sustain it by the most weighty possible 
 sanctions. Hence he proposes to reward obedience 
 with the highest gifts in his power and to punish dis- 
 obedience with the deepest possible infliction of evil. 
 When those who have only looked at the subject su- 
 perficially before, shall see that God is employing 
 the whole of his power in punishing merely to de- 
 monstrate the strength of his regard for holiness, 
 and so to enhance the esteem for holiness throun;hout 
 his universal monarchy, they will be greatly disap- 
 pointed. They will be disappointed, because there 
 will be no reasonable pretext for complaining of the 
 severity of the punishment. If the only motive for 
 punishing be to augment in the minds of the moral 
 universe the dread of sin, there can be no reasonable 
 ground for complaint that God has exerted as pow- 
 erful an influence in this direction as possible. More- 
 over, those who have deemed the Divine judgments 
 as expressions of personal resentment, have found it 
 impossible to avoid the impression that the heart of 
 the Judge must ultimately sicken at the view of in- 
 flicted torments, and his arm relax from the strange 
 work of vengeance. But when they shall see that 
 personal resentment has nothing to do wath the judg- 
 ments of God ; when they shall perceive that every 
 pang of the sufl'ering sinner is inflicted with reluct- 
 
20 SERMON I. 
 
 ance, so far as the feelings of God towards the indi- 
 vidual are concerned ; ■when they shall know that all 
 that punishment is the measure of God's disappro- 
 bation of sin, exhibited for the sole purpose of pro- 
 moting the general happiness and safety of creatures 
 by a high estimate of the worth of holiness, what 
 possible hope will remain that the punishment will 
 cease, or ever be relaxed? Can that love of holiness 
 in God, which led him to punish at all, be diminished? 
 As long as he values the happiness of the whole uni- 
 verse above that of the transgressor, can he cease to 
 make an example of him? If the punishment is the 
 measure of God's disapprobation, it will be manifest 
 that no degree of it and no endurance can be exces- 
 sive. How then will men be disappointed when they 
 shall perceive that the grounds of punishment are a 
 benevolent regard for the well-being of the universe, 
 and that there can be no hope of relief as long as 
 God's supreme regard for holiness shall continue. 
 
 But, they will be equally disappointed with the 
 actual weight of the infliction. It is evident that 
 this must be so when we consider the thin^rs which 
 tend to prevent, at present, a full appreciation of 
 the severity of future punishment. Men generally, 
 even those that are accustomed to listen to the gos- 
 pel, bestow very few of their thoughts upon a future 
 world. In respect to the most delightful things con- 
 nected with our existence in a future state, they pos- 
 sess very inadequate ideas compared with what might 
 
MEN DISAPPOINTED AT THE JUDGMENT. 21 
 
 be obtained by dwelling upon tlie revealed promises 
 of God. 
 
 But tlicre is greater difficulty in appreciating fu- 
 ture punishment than in appreciating future blessed- 
 ness. We are naturally averse to anticipating evil, 
 just as we are fond of anticipating pleasure. In ad- 
 dition, then, to the mind's being drawn away from 
 all the scenes of a future existence, by the absorbing 
 influence of the objects that continually address our 
 senses, they are also strongly repelled from consider- 
 ing a theme so unwelcome as that of future punish- 
 ment. On this account, when men are in danger of 
 great temporal sutTering, we can seldom induce them 
 to appreciate fully the impending evil. That poor 
 inebriate wdio is now approaching the confines of 
 mania a j^otu, neither believes that the danger is so 
 imminent as it really is, or that the sufi"erings threat- 
 ened are of such a terrific character. He is reluct- 
 ant to dwell upon the magnitude of the evil. It 
 comes upon him, therefore, as a fearful surprise, and 
 his subsequent confession is that he had no adequate 
 impressions of the sufferings that would be occasioned 
 by that terrible malady. This same reluctance to 
 dwell upon a dreadful future evil prevents men from 
 forming such conceptions of the punishment of the 
 lost, as they would form, if the theme were of a 
 more agreeable nature. 
 
 There is another difficulty arising from the want of 
 media by which to convey a full impression of the 
 sufferings of the lost to our minds. Our Saviour and 
 
2'1 SERMON I. 
 
 bis apostles have resorted to a selection of images of 
 such a character as Avill convey the idea of the in- 
 tensest possible sufferings. You know the doom of 
 the lost is compared to being cast into a furnace of 
 flaming fire; into a lake of fire and burning sulphur; 
 and the expressions of suffering are marked bj wail- 
 ing, by gnawing the tongue for pain, and by gnash- 
 ing of the teeth. If these were to be understood in 
 a barely literal sense, as some of our old divines 
 have maintained, it would be more tolerable and more 
 conceivable while in our present state. But, the va- 
 riety of the images employed forbids the idea that a 
 literal description is intended, while the strength of 
 these representations indicates that the writers em- 
 ployed the boldest figures afforded by human lan- 
 guage just because no description could be adequate 
 to impart an impression equal to what would be found 
 to be the reality. Then, again, all our experience of 
 suffering gives no absolute impression of unmingled 
 misery. In all our sufferings in this world there are 
 mitigations, and room is left for the mind to conceive 
 how our misery might be aggravated without any 
 enlargement of our capacity. But when God shall 
 inflict the final judgment the cup of misery will over- 
 flow. Not the least mitigation will be granted, and 
 men will be bitterly disappointed with the severity of 
 the infliction. 
 
 iMjually bitter will be the disappointment of men 
 in respect to the sort of moral esteem in which the 
 lost will be held. Vcrv few, if any, refrard them- 
 
MEN DISAPPOINTED AT THE JUDGMENT. 23 
 
 selves as utterly abandoned of God. The greater 
 part, even of those that have the least reason for 
 pretendmg that they serve God, indulge the fond 
 hope that some portion of their conduct, and some 
 traits of their character, meet the Divine approbation. 
 How deep and bitter Tvill be their disappointment 
 when they shall perceive that Christ denies the least 
 acquaintance with them as his friends. The evil of 
 meeting God's disapprobation must seem to them a 
 greater evil than they had ever supposed. When 
 they shall be aroused to the contemplation of the 
 majesty, and purity, and power of God, and of the 
 infinite weia;ht of his moral character, how over- 
 whelming will be the thought that he looks upon 
 them, and v/ill forever look upon them with un- 
 mingled disapprobation?- If they turn their atten- 
 tion to other holy beings, to angels and redeemed 
 men, they will all be found to concur with their 
 Maker in his perfect moral disapprobation. If they 
 look to sinful beings for sympathy, alas ! they, too, 
 are so convinced by the disclosures of the judg- 
 ment as to be compelled to assent to the justice of 
 the doom of sinners. They have but one resource 
 left. They must retire within the sanctuary of their 
 own bosoms and call up all their inward self-respect, 
 and sustain themselves by the reflection that they 
 yet possess virtues of intrinsic worth. But here they 
 are met by the law of God, which demanded supreme 
 affection for their Maker, and a full purpose to obey 
 and serve him. They perceive at once that their 
 lives were spent in perfect disobedience to this rea- 
 
24 SERMON I. 
 
 sonaLle requirement. Tlicy reflect upon the merci- 
 ful provisions of their Saviour only to see that they 
 always slighted them. They think of their familiarity 
 with Christian institutions, and begin to say, " We 
 have eaten and drunk in thy presence, and thou hast 
 taught in our streets;" but the thought that they 
 always slighted his calls, and neglected to sympa- 
 thize ^vith his suflering cause, fills them with shame. 
 Self-respect is gone. And when every mouth is 
 stopped, and the whole world has become guilty be- 
 fore God, they sink down under the unmingled dis- 
 approbation of God, and holy beings, and wicked 
 men, and fallen angels, and themselves. How bitter 
 the disappointment to those who have been accus- 
 tomed to self-flattery and the approbation of friends, 
 and the hope of the Divine favor ! 
 
 Nor will there be less of disappointment in relation 
 to the subjects of this punishment. There is scarcely 
 anything in which men are more liable to form an 
 erroneous judgment than in their estimate of charac- 
 ter. Those with whom we have to do possess great 
 facility for deceiving us because we cannot see the 
 motives by which they are governed. Just in pro- 
 portion as they are wicked, too, they are strongly 
 tempted to deceive. But, besides these tendencies to 
 a false estimate of character, we are liable to be mis- 
 led by false standards of character and by the bias of 
 our personal friendships. These influences alone 
 must lay a foundation for innumerable instances of 
 surprise and disappointment in regard to the persons 
 
MEN DISAPPOINTED AT THE JUDGMENT. 25 
 
 that shall be involved in the miseries of the last judg- 
 ment. 
 
 But, besides all this, Christianity has introduced 
 a new rule on which the destiny of men is decided, 
 and one, too, to which the greater part of men give 
 no marked attention. The foundation of a new cha- 
 racter is laid in the soul by faith in the Redeemer. 
 Justification, acceptance with God, is gratuitous to 
 those who possess this faith. Hence, men will be 
 surprised to find some, whose character during the 
 greater part of life had been bad, entering heaven 
 with their white robe, and golden harp, and crown of 
 immortal glory. Who of those that found their hopes 
 of heaven upon their own personal righteousness will 
 not be disappointed and filled with wonder to see the 
 dying malefactor, and others like him, who were 
 saved by pleading, in faith, for Christ's kind regard 
 in the last hour? On the contrary, many of those 
 who were amiable, circumspect, and lovely, will prove 
 at last, like the young man that Jesus saw and loved, 
 to have had a decided preference for the world over 
 the cross-bearing, and service, and hope of Christ. 
 They were received in the best circles on earth, and 
 adorned all the walks of private life; and yet, as they 
 preferred the world and its favor to the Saviour, he 
 will say to them, ^' I never knew you." Many, also, 
 who have graced high stations, and been esteemed the 
 benefactors of mankind, illuminating the walks of 
 literature by the efforts of their genius, or blessing 
 their country by. their statesmanship, or their uncor- 
 3 
 
26 SERMON I. 
 
 nipt administration of justice will be found to have 
 sought notliing higher than the praise of men. To 
 such, as they have had their reward, Christ will say, 
 ^' I never knew you, depart from me all ye workers of 
 iniquity." 
 
 Many creditable professors of religion, too, will, 
 all unexpectedly both to themselves and others, be 
 weighed in the balance and found wanting in the day 
 of trial. They were regular in their attendance upon 
 the sanctuary. They sat down at the communion- 
 table with the people of God. Their voices were 
 heard in the songs of Zion and in solemn prayer. 
 They bestowed their goods to feed the poor. They 
 had the confidence of their pastor and their brethren. 
 None were so uncharitable as to deny them the 
 Christian name. They even felt a strong assurance 
 that they were sincere disciples of the Lord Jesus. 
 But their friends, their pastor, their brethren were 
 all mistaken. They were only beautiful without, 
 like the tasteful whited sepulchre. None but God 
 saw the radical defect of their character. The bias 
 of selfishness led them to misjudge in .regard to them- 
 selves. A deceived heart had influenced them; and 
 like many of old, they held fast deceits. But, now, 
 what disappointment is produced when the veil is rent 
 away, and the heart-searching Judge exposes their 
 character and exclaims, '' I know you not !" Nor will 
 disappointment in the church be limited to its private 
 members. Those officers that have visited the sick 
 and conducted often the devotions of the people of 
 
MEN DISAPPOINTED AT THE JUDGMENT. 27 
 
 God, and distributed the emblems of the Saviour's 
 body and blood will be found to have among their 
 company some whose characters have been mistaken 
 by all except him who searches the heart. 'No eleva- 
 tion of office or sacredness of function can secure 
 men against the liability to deceive both themselves 
 and others. The minister of Christ may fail of hea- 
 ven. Not merely the manifestly proud ecclesiastic 
 that renders God's w^ork a sinecure, and makes a 
 gain of his poor flock. But the earnest, orthodox, 
 fervid, and effective preacher may disappoint not 
 only the church, but the world and himself by being 
 found at last among the lost. Paul, with all his fidel- 
 ity, was afraid lest he should prove a castaway. It 
 was not with him a mere profession of modesty and 
 humility. He was afraid because there was actual 
 danger. The minister of Christ cannot be saved by 
 virtue of his office. He must have a higher distinc- 
 tion — that of a Christian. He may preach the veri- 
 table gospel. He may be plain, and pungent, and 
 fearless in the proclamation of the truth, and yet it 
 is clearly supposable that he may be destitute of 
 saving trust in the Redeemer. For aught that can 
 assure us to the contrary, in his office or in the strain 
 of his present discourse, he that now addresses you 
 may at last be a castaway, and illustrate the truth 
 of his doctrine by going away in sorrow and despair 
 from his Saviour, to take up his abode where there is 
 wailing and gnashing of teeth. 
 
 But, if many will be disappointed, as spectators of 
 
28 SERMON I. 
 
 the weight of the infliction that shall fall upon the 
 lost, and as observers of the suhjccts of such a doom, 
 much more bitter will be their disappointment from 
 iiiidinor themselves involved in it. In this, as much 
 as in any one thing, is found the deceitfulness of sin. 
 The perpetrator flatters himself that he shall evade 
 the legitimate consequences. The same causes oper- 
 ate as in the case of offenders against human laws. 
 Criminals know that others pursuing their career 
 meet with the penalty of the law, and that, sooner or 
 later, those who indulge in a course of crime will be 
 brought to punishment, yet they flatter themselves 
 that thcij shall escape. But a large class of trans- 
 gressors of God's law flatter themselves with a double 
 hope of salvation. They intend, in the first place, 
 not to deserve to be cast ofi" from Christ. They know, 
 perhaps, that the Saviour has taught that salvation is 
 to be attained by gratuitous pardon alone, and pardon 
 can be secured only by such a trust in Christ as will 
 lead the soul to consecrate all its energies to the actual 
 service of its Redeemer. They know that Christianity 
 makes a neglect of the Saviour perfectly fatal to their 
 eternal interests; that if they confess Christ, and so 
 attach themselves to him as to be willing to sufi'er 
 shame for his name, then he will confess them before 
 his Father and the holy angels, and, if they are 
 ashamed of him, he will be ashamed of them. Still, 
 they do not meditate deeply upon this plan of gratui- 
 tous salvation ; they hope that their sins will not prove 
 such grave offences as to require their rejection by 
 
MEN DISAPPOINTED AT THE JUDGMENT. 29 
 
 the Judge. When forced by then' convictions of per- 
 sonal ill-desert to abandon all hope on this ground, 
 they cherish a confident expectation that they shall 
 yet submit to Christ, and accept his overtures of 
 mercy. Because the gospel-offers continue to be 
 made, and many have been known to accept of them 
 in their last days, they feel certain that they shall 
 become Christians before they die. If a painful alarm 
 come over them, lest they should fail to comply with 
 the invitations of Christ, they resolve that they will 
 comply. They are fully determined not to be lost. 
 But at length death comes as a thief in the night. 
 They are borne, with surprise and astonishment, 
 into the presence of Christ, the omniscient Judge of 
 quick and dead. They are disappointed, bitterly dis- 
 appointed to find themselves disowned, condemned, 
 rejected, and their portion assigned them where there 
 is wailing and gnashing of teeth. They intended not 
 to be lost. They scarcely considered what it was, 
 just because they purposed to avoid it. They deemed 
 it needless to harrow up their feelings with terrific 
 images of the world of woe, since they should certainly 
 escape it. But their fear has come suddenly, and 
 their destruction as a whirlwind. 
 
 It seems to me that there can be scarcely anything 
 more bitter in the doom of the lost than the disap- 
 pointment that shall attend it. I know of no incident 
 taken from life that illustrates more fully this point 
 than one connected with our revolutionary struggle, in 
 a scene described by a popular American writer. It 
 
 3* 
 
30 SERMON I. 
 
 is not necessary to quote the language of the author. 
 It was tlic account of an execution of one of the men 
 called Tories, lie had been arrested by a military 
 company. It was proved clearly that he had been 
 lending his influence to aid the enemy. The captain 
 and the greater part of the company had been ac- 
 quainted Avith him. Indeed, he was one of their old 
 neighbors and personal friends. When he was con- 
 demned by a summary process, the leader of the band 
 ordered his execution. The prisoner could not believe 
 that his old neighbor and acquaintance would really 
 allow him to be executed. He reminded him of their 
 former acquaintance, and of the fact that no personal 
 ill-will had ever existed between them. The captain 
 and his friends alleged that it was a great aggravation 
 of his offences, that he had jeoparded the lives and 
 interests of those against whom he had no personal 
 resentments to gratify. Preparations were made for 
 the execution. Still, the prisoner would not admit, 
 for a moment, that anything more could be intended 
 than seriously to operate upon his fears. He remon- 
 strated again, and made fair promises. They had no 
 cifect. The preparations still went forward. At 
 length, he was lifted up and suspended by the neck. 
 Still he would not believe. Seizing the rope, he raised 
 himself and remained suspended by the strength of 
 his arms. Again he pleaded with the officer, remind- 
 ing him of their former acquaintance. The captain 
 assured him that he was not brought to such a doom 
 by anything connected with that acquaintance, but 
 
MEN DISAPPOINTED AT THE JUDGMENT. 81 
 
 only by betraying his country and his friends, and 
 ordered the company to move and leave him to his 
 fate. He saw them move away, and then, for the 
 first time, flashed upon his mind his real situation. 
 With a look of unutterable and bitter disappointment, 
 he gave one shriek of despair, and relaxed the grasp 
 of his hands and sunk down into the horrid struggle 
 of strangulation. Thus, will men be disappointed in 
 their ultimate doom, who never plead earnestly with 
 their Saviour till they cry, "Lord, Lord, open unto 
 us," and hear the voice of their Judge, saying, "I know 
 you not; depart from me, all ye workers of iniquity." 
 To apply this subject, allow me to say that there 
 is one class of persons, numerous in the whole Christ- 
 ian community, and I am afraid a good many of my 
 present hearers belong to it, who do not feel any 
 serious apprehension in regard to a future judgment. 
 They neglect the whole subject, and have settled a 
 single principle by which they are to be governed in 
 relation to their future and eternal interests. They 
 think they are too good to be lost. My dear friends, 
 your neglect to ponder the subject exerts no possible 
 influence to change the principles of God's adminis- 
 tration. If no man can be saved on a plea of per- 
 sonal goodness, but only by the mercy of God through 
 faith in Christ's offering of himself as a sacrifice for 
 our sins, then your reliance upon your general cha- 
 racter, and your neglect of the special provisions of 
 Christianity, can only serve to fill you with bitter dis- 
 appointment at last. If you think the interests of the 
 
82 SERMON T. 
 
 soul will be secured without attention and eftort, you are 
 not more likely to be right than those are who should 
 expect to see the fruits of industry in their hands, 
 and themselves prepared to enjoy them, without toil 
 or care, or self-discipline. If you think it degrading 
 to beg for mercy in the name of Christ when it can 
 be obtained, you will yet see the time when you shall 
 cry to him, with a strong and bitter cry, and meet 
 with no other response than "I know you not; depart 
 from me, all ye workers of iniquity." 
 
 But, here is a band of youth of both sexes, the sons 
 and daughters of pious parents. They fully intend 
 to enter the kingdom of heaven. They will scarcely 
 allow the thought to cross their minds that they may 
 see their parents in white robes, with palms and harps 
 and crowns following in their Saviour's train, and they 
 themselves cast out. Yet disappointment, remember, 
 characterizes the condition of the lost. If you should 
 witness such a scene, and then cry to your Saviour, 
 "Lord, Lord, open to us," you might plead all your 
 interesting relations to the church, and your Saviour, 
 and the means of grace, and plead in vain. You might 
 say, "Lord, open to us. We have eaten and drunk in 
 thy presence, and thou hast taught in our streets," 
 and the answer would be, "I know you not." You 
 might say, "We have sat in thy sanctuary, our voices 
 have uttered the songs of Zion." " I know you not," 
 is still the answer. "But, Lord, we have been bap- 
 tized into thy holy name. We have knelt at the 
 family altar, when the sacrifice of prayer and praise 
 
MEN DISAPPOINTED AT THE JUDGMENT. 33 
 
 was offered. We were the objects of parental solici- 
 tude and prayer ; our parents blessed us with their 
 dying lips. They have entered heaven. We always 
 intended to join them in that happy world. There 
 they are ; we see their blessed countenances, and 
 hear the sweet voices that taught our infant lips to 
 pray. Lord, Lord, open unto us." The declara- 
 tion, '' I know you not," is again reiterated, and you 
 sink down in a disappointment, the bitterness of 
 which is aggravated in proportion to the strength of 
 your former anticipations. 
 
 But here is another group, who have not only 
 been taught by pious parents and faithful pastors, 
 but who have been often brought by the Spirit's in- 
 fluence to the threshold of the church invisible. You 
 intend, by all means, not to be cast off at last. You 
 have treasured up many a faithful warning. You 
 have carried the message of God to your chamber, 
 and sometimes knelt down and prayed for strength to 
 take up your cross and follow your Saviour. But 
 you were not quite ready. You desired your hus- 
 band, your wife, or some dear friend, to accompany 
 you. You deferred it till the next communion-season 
 should recur. The time came ; you were not ready. 
 When you saw the emblems of your Saviour's body 
 and blood pass, you seemed to see your wounded and 
 slighted Redeemer cast towards you an aggrieved and 
 reproving look. Your soul was filled with tender- 
 ness; your tears flowed, and you resolved solemnly 
 before God, that the next communion-season should 
 
34 • SERMON I. 
 
 find you confessing your Saviour before men, and say- 
 ing, " If I perish, I perish — ' Here, Lord, I give 
 myself away, 'tis all that I can do.' " The next com- 
 munion-season arrived, and you had found — in your 
 ingenuity — another plausible pretext for delay. You 
 thought, however, that you could not fail. Such 
 purposes and emotions must ripen into a genuine con- 
 version. But, alas! while you are lingering, death 
 calls. You come to the door of heaven with the cry 
 *'Lord, Lord, open unto us." You hear no answer. 
 Can we be mistaken? You knock loudly at the door, 
 and call with a louder voice, " Lord, Lord, open to 
 us." Then the response falls on your ears, ''I know 
 you not.'' You will not receive it. You look your 
 companions in the face, and ask, can it be possible 
 that, while we were waiting for one another, as seek- 
 ing for a more convenient time, and more favorable 
 circumstances, it was not much the same thing as if 
 we had taken up our cross, and followed Christ. We 
 will call yet again: "Lord, did we not receive thy 
 solemn admonitions, and go home from the sanctuary 
 and pray for strength to do our duty ? Did not the 
 emblems of thy body and blood pass close by us? 
 Did we not then say, Oh, that we might die the death 
 of the righteous, and that our last end might be like 
 his? Did we not solemnly promise that, ere another 
 such season should arrive, we would take up our 
 cross, begin thy service frankly and openly, and at 
 the very next opportunity confess the^ in thine ordi- 
 
MEN DISAPPOINTED AT THE JUDGMENT. 35 
 
 nances, and solemnly say in the assembly of thy 
 people : — 
 
 * Here, in thy courts, I leave my tow, 
 And thy rich grace record ; 
 Witness ! ye saints that hear me now, 
 If I forsake the Lord ?' 
 
 " Must we now be cast oif, just because we did not 
 give ourselves to thee, when perhaps we should have 
 done so, if our life had been spared only a few days 
 longer?" The same answer is returned, "I know you 
 not." 
 
 But here is a company of professed disciples, that 
 have just learned that they resemble the foolish vir- 
 gins who took their lamps, but took no oil with them. 
 They had exhibited a glare of external piety, but 
 they never understood what was meant by peace and 
 joy in believing. They were unacquainted with that 
 inward faith which enables the soul to contemplate 
 Christ and heavenly things as such interesting and 
 sure realities that they derive from them their chief 
 happiness. They cannot believe that they shall be 
 disappointed. When they are denied a ready ad- 
 mittance, they exclaim, "Lord! we have eaten and 
 drunk in thy presence ; we have entered into solemn 
 covenant with thy people ; we have befriended thy 
 ministers ; we sometimes fancied that we did even 
 more than our part, in ameliorating the condition of 
 our sinful race. Must all this pass for nothing? 
 Many are saved that have not done as much good as 
 
36 SERMON I. 
 
 "we have. 'Lord, Lord, open unto us!' " Still, the 
 answer is, '' I know you not; depart from me, all ye 
 workers of iniquity!" 
 
 My hcloved friends, you and I, and every one of 
 us, shall surely see that day of trial, wiien all the 
 unconverted shall experience the most bitter disap- 
 pointment. Let me counsel you, then, in the name 
 of my Master, to do the only thing which can pro- 
 tect you from a just application of that sentence 
 which shall fall like a clap of thunder upon the ears 
 of all the unconverted: "Depart from me, all ye 
 workers of iniquity." Apply, at once, to your Sa- 
 viour for mercy. Say to him, " Save, Lord, or I 
 perish." Listen to his call, " Come unto me all ye 
 that labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you 
 rest;" and say, "Yes, blessed Saviour, I come to thee, 
 now. I ask thee in the language of Saul, the sub- 
 dued persecutor, ' Lord, what wilt thou have me to 
 do?' Any cross which thou wilt lay upon me I 
 bear for thy sake. From this moment I throw away 
 all delays. Give me thy Spirit of grace to guide 
 me. Enstamp thine image on my soul, and, through 
 thy grace assisting, I am and will be thine forever." 
 
SERMON II. 
 
 THE STRUGaLE BETWEEN JUSTICE AND MERCY — A NEW 
 year's DISCOURSE. 
 
 He spake also this parable : a certain man had a fig-tree 
 planted in his vineyard ; and he came and sought fruit there- 
 ON AND FOUND NONE. ThEN SAID HE UNTO THE DRESSER OF HIS 
 
 VINEYARD, Behold, these three years I come seeking fruit on 
 
 THIS fig-tree and FIND NONE : CUT IT DOWN : WHY CUMBERETH IT 
 THE GROUND ? AnD HE ANSWERING, SAID UNTO HIM, LORD, LET IT 
 ALONE THIS YEAR ALSO, TILL I SHALL DIG ABOUT IT AND DUNG IT : 
 AND IF IT BEAR FRUIT, WELL: AND IF NOT, THEN, AFTER THAT THOU 
 SHALT CUT IT DOWN. LvM XIII. 6 9, 
 
 Our Saviour's style of preaclimg is peculiar. He 
 abounds in metaphor and similitude. His imagery is 
 mainly derived from objects that are well known to 
 the people at large, and as they are an agricultural 
 community, he alludes freely to those things which 
 are closely connected with fields, and vineyards, and 
 gardens, and the arts of husbandry. These pecu- 
 liarities of style render his preaching both intelligi- 
 ble to the mass, and highly attractive to all. There 
 is also a peculiar pertinency in his discourses. On 
 one occasion, when he addressed the people, it is re- 
 4 
 
38 SERMON ir. 
 
 marked by the inspired historian that the Scribes 
 and Pharisees perceived that he spake of them. It 
 is manifest that it must have been equally clear to 
 his auditors when he uttered the words of our text 
 that he intended a direct application to themselves. 
 The Jewish people were well represented by such a 
 tree, thus planted out in a vineyard, in circumstances 
 most favorable to the production of fruit. God has 
 given them distinguished advantages. He has waited 
 for a long period to see the happy results of his care 
 and culture. No suitable fruits of holiness appear. 
 Justice demands their destruction. Mercy interposes 
 and pleads for delay, but pleads with an express pro- 
 mise to submit to the fatal stroke upon her favored 
 people, without remonstrance, if they be not soon re- 
 covered from their sins. Such was the primary ap- 
 plication of this parable. 
 
 It will be readily perceived, however, that prin- 
 ciples are here involved which are perfectly applica- 
 ble to a large class of individuals. Probably, many 
 such are now before me. The parable draws our 
 attention to a single tree. From this I take the hint 
 to address myself to an individual. Allow me, then, 
 my friend, to single you out by a description of your 
 character and state, and then to call your attention 
 to the struggle which is now going on between Jus- 
 tice and Mercy in relation to your present position. 
 
 God has given you distinguished privileges. Your 
 lot has been cast in a favored nation. The highest 
 degree of civil freedom has been secured to you. 
 
STRUGGLE BETWEEN JUSTICE AND MERCY. 39 
 
 You command your own time; you choose your own 
 profession ; and in a greater degree than the citizens 
 of any other country in the whole world, you give 
 shape and character to your worldly fortune. You 
 enjoy the most perfect religious liberty. You are 
 not subjected to a priesthood who are interested in 
 binding you in the chains of superstition, and in claim- 
 ing the power of absolution from sin, and consequently, 
 the power of withholding it, and leaving you to pe- 
 rish eternally. On the contrary, your religious teach- 
 ers and pastors claim only to be helpers of your 
 faith, and urgently commend to your study the word 
 of God, and beg of you to search the Scriptures 
 daily, and to see whether the things which they teach 
 are so, that your faith may stand not in the wisdom 
 of men, but in the power of God. You are de- 
 scended from a religious ancestry. The good habits 
 engendered by the piety of your progenitors have 
 been transmitted in some degree to yourself. These 
 influences have imparted sentiments of respect for 
 the Sabbath, for the gospel, for the public worship of 
 God. They have brought your feet this morning 
 within the precincts of the sanctuary. You have 
 enjoyed liberal advantages for obtaining Christian 
 instruction. It may be that the Sunday-school, or 
 even the rich advantages of the catechismal in- 
 struction of pious parents, have exerted their influ- 
 ence in enlightening your understanding, and in 
 quickening your conscience. But, whether you have 
 enjoyed all these advantages or only a considerable 
 
40 ■ SERMON II. 
 
 proportion of them, you are a highly favored person. 
 You are like a fig-tree -which a certain man planted 
 in his vineyard. 
 
 Time, also, has been allowed you to make reason- 
 able returns to God of gratitude and holy obedience. 
 Instruction has been imparted; various and salutary 
 providential discipline has been administered ; a sea- 
 son, sufficiently long to warrant the most happy re- 
 sults, has passed. God has sought for fruit. He 
 has found none. Another period has elapsed. The 
 means of grace have been multiplied. Instruction 
 has distilled like the dew. The divine Spirit has 
 come upon you like the warm breath of summer. 
 God comes a^ain seekino^ fruit and finds none. Yet 
 forbearance is manifested. Another year has elapsed. 
 God has multiplied the appliances of his grace. The 
 calls of the gospel have sounded through all the 
 chambers of your soul. Conscience has been loud in 
 her remonstrances. Warnins^s have sometimes ere- 
 ated great apprehensions lest abused mercies should 
 turn to vengeance. Others have been converted; 
 you are left. Some who slighted the overtures of 
 grace have been cut down during the past year. 
 The year has come to its close. God approaches 
 you, my unconverted friend, seeking fruit this morn- 
 ing, lie finds none. 
 
 One result, which was reasonably to have been ex- 
 pectod long since, is that you should, renounce this 
 world as your portion, and consecrate yourself en- 
 tirely to God. No such fruit is discoverable. You 
 
STRUGGLE BETWEEN JUSTICE AND MERCY. 41 
 
 still cling to earthly things as jour highest means of 
 happiness. You have never declared the Lord to be 
 your portion ; you have never maintained for one 
 day, nor one hour, nor one moment, the sentiment 
 expressed by an apostle: "I will glory in nothing 
 save the cross of our Lord Jesus Christ, bv whom 
 the world is crucified to me and I unto the world." 
 You have made no efforts to promote the spiritual 
 interests of your fellow-men. You have made no 
 faithful offers of the gospel to your impenitent friends. 
 Y'our dearest kindred have been left by you to the 
 same unbroken slumber in sin as if you had not pos- 
 sessed the means of influencing them. You have not 
 uttered one warning, proffered one invitation of mer- 
 cy, breathed one prayer for them, or evinced the least 
 anxiety for their salvation. In this respect you have 
 manifested none of the fruits of holiness. Nor have 
 you done anything to cause your Saviour's name to 
 be honored, or to promote the spiritual well-being of 
 his church. God comes seeking fruit and finds none 
 — absolutely none at all. 
 
 Kor are you merely destitute of fruit, but being so, 
 you exert a baneful influence. The tree in the para- 
 ble cumbered the ground ; or as the original phrase 
 means, rendered the ground sterile ; did positive 
 harm. Thus, have you diffused your sentiments of 
 worldliness, and encouraged others in sin by your ex- 
 ample of delay, if not even by an openly wicked con- 
 duct. Xow, my friend, have I described your state? 
 
 Have vou cniovcd sireat advantacres? Have vou re- 
 
 4>:< 
 
42 SERMON ir. 
 
 ceived from the hand of your heavenly Father a 
 thousand mercies, felt the influence of Christian in- 
 stitutions and Christian instruction, and been the 
 subject of great forbearance ? Has God borne long 
 "with you, and called you often, and come seeking 
 fruit; and now "when this year has just drawn to a 
 close, must it be said that you yield absolutely no 
 fruit ; but that, on the contrary, you are exerting an 
 influence positively hostile to piety? Be assured, 
 then, justice demands that you should be cut down. 
 Yet mercy pleads for delay. You are the object of 
 a deeply interesting struggle. 
 
 I assume here, that it is of no consequence, in 
 the application of this parable, to determine whether 
 the certain man who said ''cut it down, why cumbereth 
 it the ground," represents God the Father, or whether 
 the dresser of the vineyard who pleads for delay, means 
 Christ. It is enough to say that God, as one that 
 vindicates his holy law, demands your instant punish- 
 ment, and yet, as a matter of forbearance and mercy, 
 he finds reason for delay, in the desire that you may 
 be brought to repentance. The struggle is in the 
 same bosom, and is analogous to that sometimes ex- 
 perienced by a just and benevolent human being, who 
 is at the same time urged by the claims of law and 
 order to inflict deserved punishment, and yet is im- 
 pelled by the desire of reforming and saving, to delay 
 the stroke of justice. But, the thought will be clothed 
 with a peculiar dramatic interest, if you will contem- 
 plate the struggle, which is a real one, under a ^;£?r- 
 
STRUGGLE BETWEEN JUSTICE AND MERCY. 43 
 
 sonification of justice and mercy, and an ardent conflict 
 between them. 
 
 Suppose, then, that your senses are locked up from 
 all commerce with worldly objects. You lie in one of 
 those rapt states into which the ancient prophets were 
 wont to be thrown when God presented his truth to 
 them, in the most vivid manner. Your attention is 
 directed to the heavens. You perceive, descending 
 towards the earth, two bright angelic beings, one fol- 
 lowing the other at a distance. The foremost alights 
 and stands by your side. The form is masculine and 
 gigantic. He is girt with brilliant steel armor, and 
 bears in his right hand a sword of terrific brightness. 
 An expression of mingled purity and sternness beams 
 from his countenance. He surveys you attentively, 
 and his very look arouses your slumbering conscience, 
 and assures you, beyond the possibility of mistake, that 
 it is Justice come down on purpose to cut you in sun- 
 der and appoint you your portion with hypocrites and 
 unbelievers. The sword is slowly, and calmly lifted 
 up. The compressed lips and flashing eye declare 
 his determined purpose. You lie helpless and speech- 
 less at his feet. At this moment, the being whom 
 you had seen following Justice at a distance, alights 
 by his side, and seizes the blade and draAvs it away 
 from its threatening posture. Her whole action is 
 marked by an indescribable sweetness. The pure 
 draper}^ of heaven floats around her form. Her coun- 
 tenance is full of benevolence and compassion. Her 
 lips quiver with emotion, and tears trickle down her 
 
44 SERMON II. 
 
 cheek. Justice exclaims, ''Let me alone; I will 
 strike ; I -will cut liim down. Law has been outraged 
 long enough. Blessings bought with blood have 
 been despised. The Saviour's entreaties have been 
 basely slighted, and you, yourself, have fallen into 
 contempt, as if you possessed no other quality than an 
 amiable weakness, and could not withdraw and leave 
 the sinner to his deserved doom." " Hold, Justice ! I 
 have, in my hand, a pardon for that offender. I im- 
 plore you to spare him, till he be further treated with. 
 Perhaps he may be brought to repentance. Then a 
 soul shall be saved from death. Then, the heavenly 
 harps shall all be tuned anew. Then the glorious 
 Saviour shall have another bright gem in his crown, 
 and even you, yourself shall be satisfied. Spare him 
 for the sake of the good that shall follow." " The good 
 that shall follow,'' rejoins the stern executioner; "the 
 good that shall follow ! Evil, and only evil has been 
 the consequence of all former delay. Ilis example of 
 deliberately preferring earthly things to the things 
 that are above, has been most baneful. His deliberate 
 slighting of the overtures of grace hasemboldened hun- 
 dreds in the same neglect. Many a giddy youth is this 
 day deferring repentance because he has seemed to do 
 it with impunity ; because forbearance has been so long 
 protracted in this instance. Others shall be brought 
 to feel salutary apprehension by a prompt execution 
 in this instance. It is a necessary procedure. He 
 will neither enter the kingdom of heaven himself, nor 
 suflfer those that were cntorino; to go in. He stands 
 
STRUGGLE BETWEEN JUSTICE AND MERCY. 45 
 
 like a barren fig-tree in a vineyard, destroying the fer- 
 tility of lands that had else produced the choicest 
 fruit ; let me cut it down. Why cumbereth it the 
 ground?" "Yet," says Mercy, " more culture may se- 
 cure the expected fruit. Let me employ the appropri- 
 ate means for securing a sincere repentance. Let truth 
 be made to shine into that dark heart. Let his un- 
 derstanding be more thoroughly convinced. Let 
 conscience be appealed to. Let apprehension be 
 awakened. Let the love of God, and the bleeding 
 compassion of Christ, be brought before him. Perhaps 
 he may repent ; there is, at least, a possibility that 
 the lost soul may be recovered." 
 
 "Possibility!" cries Justice; "and do you expect 
 me to delay execution for the hundredth time because 
 there is a bare possibility of repentance? What are 
 the probabilities ? Have not the means of grace all 
 been exhausted on this undeserving subject? He 
 has been instructed till he knows all the leading 
 truths of the gospel. For a long time he has not 
 depended upon the presence of the living teacher to 
 make the appeals of religion to his heart. The great 
 truths of revelation have taken up their residence in 
 his soul. When he is alone amid his usual avocations, 
 in his chamber, or on his bed by night, these truths 
 speak to his heart and awaken his conscience. He 
 has listened to preaching till it has lost its eifect. 
 Instruction falls upon him like dew on a rock. Ex- 
 hortation he regards as a weak attempt to work upon 
 his feelings; an attempt which he has too much ex- 
 
46 SERMON ir. 
 
 pericnce to be Influenced by. Warnings he has learned 
 to esteem as threatenings used for effect; threatenings 
 that will not, at the most, be executed speedily. He 
 has been chastened in vain. Sickness, and bereave- 
 ment by death, have again and again clad his soul with 
 sackcloth, and compelled him to weep over the empti- 
 ness and uncertainty of earthly good. Yet he clings 
 to his remaining idols. Sorrows have been removed 
 again, and prosperity, like the smileof God, has beamed 
 upon him. Yet he has only been glad. Not one re- 
 turn of heartfelt thankfulness has been made, nor 
 has he once asked, ' Where is God, my Maker, who 
 giveth me songs in the night?' 
 
 " Christ has called him a hundred times by his Holy 
 Spirit, and all in vain. He has come to his door and 
 knocked. No answer. The Saviour has waited. 
 He has stood there all night. His head has been 
 wet with the dews, and his locks with the chilly drops. 
 The ungrateful soul would not arise and let his Sa- 
 viour in. No, his bands are made strong ; his heart 
 is growing more callous. He holds a relation to the 
 assaults of gospel influence, such as Leviathan held 
 to his enemies, when it was said, * His heart is as 
 firm as a stone, as hard as a piece of the nether mill- 
 stone. The sword of him that layeth at him cannot 
 hold; the spear, the dart, nor the habergeon. He 
 estcemcth iron as straw, and brass as rotten wood. 
 The arrow cannot make him flee ; sling-stones are 
 turned with him into stubble. Darts are counted as 
 stubble; he laughed at the shaking of a spear.' 
 
STRUGGLE BETWEEN JUSTICE AND MERCY. 47 
 
 And yet, you speak of the possibility that such an one 
 will repent under an application of the same means." 
 
 "But, 0," says Mercy, "spare him but a little 
 longer ; one year more, one short year ; allow him 
 one more good opportunity for making his peace with 
 God." 
 
 "No," says Justice, "he has been spared too long 
 already. He uses delay only to harden himself. 
 This very method of procedure to which you would 
 persuade me, aggravates the same difficulty in the 
 case of others. Besides, he is only learning from 
 forbearance to defy me, and treat you with contempt. 
 Let me alone ; my hand has taken hold on judgment." 
 So saying, he wrenches the blade from the hand of 
 Mercy and lifts it high in air, and the fatal stroke is 
 just ready to descend. Mercy rushes between him 
 and the stroke, and seizing his arm exclaims, " Yet 
 hear but one plea more. Spare him for a single 
 year, only one year more. Then all my importunity 
 shall end. If repentance does not ensue during this 
 year, then, after that thou shalt cut him down. I 
 will interpose no obstacles. I shall consider that 
 longer delay will impede my work in regard to more 
 hopeful subjects. If, then, you come and lift up 
 your sword over him, as now, I promise to be silent. 
 I will not cast one look towards him. I will sit down 
 veiled at your feet, and when the blow descends, and 
 I hear his death-groan, I will say. Amen ! And when 
 I hear him shriek and wail as he shall fall down by 
 the sides of the pit, I will calmly say. Justice is 
 
48 SERMON II. 
 
 right; God is good; the sinner has destroyed himself; 
 he has scorned, and he alone must bear it." 
 
 The countenance of Justice relaxes. He accepts 
 the petition. The conference breaks up, and you 
 are spared still to be pursued with offers of pardon 
 and urgent motives to repentance. My unconverted 
 friend, do you not know that such a struggle has ex- 
 isted for a long time in relation to you ? The fact 
 that you have not been thrown into such a state, and 
 seen such a vision, makes no difference in regard to 
 the reality of the conflict. The condemnatory sen- 
 tence of God's law rests upon you. There are strong 
 reasons for a prompt execution. Yet, up to the pre- 
 sent moment, the pleadings of Divine compassion 
 have secured delay. The spiritual privileges of an- 
 other year are exhausted. Its last Sabbath is past. 
 Fifty-two of these hallowed seasons have been se- 
 cured for you by the Divine forbearance. The calls 
 of grace have been multiplied and various. How 
 many clear lessons of instruction have come into 
 your understanding! How many plain admonitions 
 have visited your conscience! How many solemn 
 appeals have been made to your heart? Mercies 
 have been multiplied; various chastisements have 
 been mingled with them. The Spirit of God has 
 called. Yet you are unconverted. You bear no 
 fruit. Why has all this forbearance been exercised? 
 Not that you may be profitable to God. He can fill 
 his kingdom with joyful subjects, and his courts with 
 eternal praise, without your aid. He has not for- 
 
STRUaGLE BETWEEN JUSTICE AND MERCY. 49 
 
 borne with you, because his church cannot go forward 
 without your help. He can raise up converts and 
 useful defenders of his religion from men in less fa- 
 vored conditions. When the Jews judged themselves 
 unworthy of eternal life, God turned to the Gentiles, 
 and raised up a new class of defenders and propa- 
 gators of his religion. So now he can pass you by, 
 and call that foolish scoffer, and make him a thought- 
 ful man and a serious Christian. He can leave you 
 in your respectability and your pride, and take that 
 poor vagrant, whose mind is obscured by squalid 
 poverty and want of early culture, and make him a 
 subject of grace, and adorn his soul with learning, 
 and make it fragrant with piety, and honor him as 
 the instrument of promoting his cause. He bears 
 with you only for your good. He bears with you 
 because he would secure your repentance and conse- 
 quent happiness. He sees the fearfulness of your 
 doom if the sword of justice be once permitted to 
 fall. To cut off hope forever is fearful. He knows 
 that the pangs of impenitent remorse are unuttera- 
 ble ; that the worm that dieth not, and the level lake 
 that burneth are terrific, and that despair eternal, is 
 an evil far, far beyond all your most awful anticipa- 
 tions. He is reluctant to surrender you to such a 
 doom; and he is saying now of you, as he said of his 
 people of old, "How shall I give thee up, Ephraim; 
 how shall I deliver thee, Israel? My heart is turned 
 within me; my repentings are kindled together." 
 He knows also the full advantages of your being re- 
 5 
 
60 SERMON ir. 
 
 covered from that lost estate by a genuine conver- 
 sion, lie appreciates the advantages to your own 
 happiness, of your being turned to God. He knows 
 that there is peace and joy in believing in Christ ; 
 that a quiet conscience is worth more than heaps of 
 gold and silver, and that gushes of grateful joy spring 
 from a trustful reliance on a Saviour's merits. He 
 sees the value of a triumphant Christian death ; an 
 acquittal at the judgment-seat; a robe of innocence, 
 a palm of victory, a crown of glory, and a golden 
 harp, and a companionship with the blest, and a seat 
 with Christ on his throne. He cannot bear that you 
 should lose all this; lose it, too, when it can be had 
 for nothing but the mere willingness to accept it. 
 
 Are you not aware, my dear friend, that there is 
 an unspeakable aggravation of guilt, in neglecting 
 opportunities thus secured by the pleading of Divine 
 forbearance ? Men are deceived respecting degrees 
 of guilt, by associating it with crime. Guilt, as con- 
 nected with overt action, and especially with violence 
 and bloodshed, appeals to our passions, and makes a 
 strong impression. Yet a little reflection may con- 
 vince any one, that the greater degrees of guilt are 
 incurred when the soul is in the most calm and deli- 
 berate state. 
 
 To make clear the distinction here referred to, let 
 mo state a supposed case. A man of depraved cha- 
 racter, in the gratification of a revengeful spirit, has 
 wantonly destroyed the life of one of your dearest 
 friends. He is arrested, and condemned. The day 
 
STRUGGLE BETWEEN JUSTICE AND MERCY. 51 
 
 of his execution is appointed. Before the fatal period 
 •arrives, your feelings of indignation are cooled, your 
 heart sickens at the thought of such a punishment, 
 with all its eternal consequences. You seek gene- 
 rously to secure the pardon of the offender. Suppose, 
 now, you find that there are two difficulties in the 
 way; one in the government, and one in the continued 
 revengeful feelings of the condemned man. Law 
 will be relaxed, and government will lose its restrain- 
 ing power, if something be not done for its protection. 
 You devise a scheme by which the law may be honored, 
 but it is a scheme which will cost you personal sufferings 
 that are nearly equivalent to death itself. Your com- 
 passion and benevolence have carried you so far, how- 
 ever, that you have met and endured the suffering. 
 But one thing now remains to be done, to secure the 
 liberation of the ofi'ender. He must be willinoj to ac- 
 cept the pardon as your gift thus purchased. Ilis 
 cheerful, heartfelt, grateful acceptance of the pardon 
 shall be accounted as a sentiment which involves all 
 the principles of a thorough reformation. You go to 
 his prison and bear the offer of pardon in your hand. 
 He is reading a tale of fiction, and will not stop to 
 listen to you, beyond the bare noticing of the facts, 
 and admitting their truth. The day of execution 
 comes, and you plead that it may be delayed for a 
 year. Your request is granted. Now you visit him 
 every day. You find him at different times engaged 
 in various occupations. At one time he is engaged 
 in lucrative labor, and shows you his gains. At an- 
 
52 SERMON 11. 
 
 Other time, he is making himself merry with a friend 
 that has been permitted to visit him. He listens to. 
 your proposals "with more attention than formerly, but 
 defers compliance. The time of execution draws near. 
 Again you plead for delay, and delay is granted. 
 After repeated reprieves of this kind, he begins to 
 flatter himself that the delay of justice will be indefi- 
 nite. The more assiduous you become, the more does 
 he acquire confidence to slight your offers. If you 
 talk of justice, he smiles at the thought that you 
 should hope to alarm his fears, after all that has 
 passed. You speak of compassion, and kindness, and 
 suffering on his behalf, and he wonders that you should 
 think he possesses such a woman's heart, as to be sub- 
 dued by tears. Now do you not perceive that the degree 
 of guilt, in persisting in that revengeful feeling, un- 
 relaxed, is greater, and implies more depravity, than 
 the original crime. The stormy temptation of the 
 violent passion has subsided, and yet he will not sur- 
 render the wicked principle that governed him. On 
 the contrary, he has added to it a perpetual contempt 
 of justice, and the deliberate insult of mercy and for- 
 bearance. He may be less addicted to crime, but his 
 guilt has gone on gaining power, like an increasing 
 river, flowing more smoothly and calmly, as it dis- 
 tances its native hills, but moving with a vastly aug- 
 mented volume, and increased though quiet vigor of 
 current. 
 
 I am aware that this representation may seem hard, 
 but, my fellow-traveller to the bar of God, you must 
 
STRUGGLE BETWEEN JUSTICE AND MERCY. 53 
 
 allow me to be plain with you. As a transgressor of 
 the Divine law, you are justly exposed to he cast off 
 from the Divine favor, forever. But your guilt lies 
 mainly in your calm neglect of the overtures of mercy. 
 The blood of Christ is by you virtually cast contempt 
 on. Justice is despised. Mercy is insulted; and the 
 more so by reason of the long-protracted forbearance 
 of God. But this course is as rash and hazardous as 
 it is sinful. You are employing all the moral powers 
 that God has given you in tempting Justice to cut 
 you down. You have no assurance of another hour's 
 delay. Mercy may have pleaded that you should be 
 spared this year only. She may have stipulated to 
 interpose no further. She may be turning away and 
 veiling her face this very hour, knowing that Justice 
 is about to strike — that you will utter one convulsive 
 sob, and then wail among the lost. When Mercy will 
 thus withdraw you know not. God intends that you 
 shall feel all the influence of a total uncertainty with 
 respect to the time. Some who were warned at the 
 beginning of the last year have fallen in their sins. 
 You can give no reason why Justice has not cut you 
 down. I remember to have witnessed an instance in 
 which this thought was overwhelming. I met a 
 friend of about forty years of age. He was pale 
 and trembling, and a tear glistened in his eye. 
 ^'What is the matter, my friend?" I asked. ^'0," 
 said he, " I have just heard of the death of a ne- 
 phew of about eighteen years old. He was a dis- 
 solute and profane young man, and has been sud- 
 
 5* 
 
54 SERMON II. 
 
 (Icnly cut down in his sins. But what affects me most 
 is the reflection that at his age I was like him. If I 
 had died then thus suddenly I should have been now 
 in hell." 
 
 Let me say in conclusion, my beloved friend, you 
 have stood in jeopardy long enough. Beware of that 
 uplifted sword of Justice. Trust not to coming years. 
 " Now is the accepted time — now is the day of salva- 
 tion." God has not promised to spare you longer. 
 You are not certain that you shall see the end of this 
 year. Mercy may have pleaded for forbearance in 
 your case only for a stipulated period. This may be 
 the last Sabbath of that period ; this may be the last 
 gospel invitation up to the point of time of which it 
 has been said, after that thou shalt cut it down. Cer- 
 tain it is that I am not authorized to offer you salva- 
 tion for one hour beyond the present. Remember, 
 that now you are invited to come to your Saviour and 
 receive a full and free pardon. You may go quietly 
 away from this sanctuary this morning, and there 
 shall be nothing in your conduct or appearance to 
 attract attention. No man may be able to say, see 
 how he stifles conviction, and resists the Holy Spirit 
 — but, men may say of you before another warning 
 shall fall upon your ear — 
 
 " Ilis quivering lip hangs feebly down, 
 His pulse is faint and few, 
 Then, speechless Avith a doleful groan; 
 He bids the world adieu. 
 
STRUGGLE BETWEEN JUSTICE AND MERCY. 55 
 
 *' But, oh, the soul that never dies ! 
 Soon as it leaves its clay, 
 Ye thoughts pursue it where it flies, 
 And track its wondrous way. 
 
 ** Up to the courts where angels dwell 
 It mounts and triumphs there, 
 Or devils plunge it down to hell. 
 In infinite despair." 
 
SERMON III. 
 
 THE IMPETRATION OF MERCY J OR, THE BLIND BEGGAR. 
 And they came to Jericho : and as he went out of Jericho, 
 
 WITH HIS disciples, AND A GREAT NUMBER OF PEOPLE, BLIND BaRTI- 
 
 meus, the son of timeus, sat by the highway side, begging. 
 And when he heard that it was Jesus of Nazareth, he began 
 
 TO CRY OUT, AND SAY, JeSUS, THOU SON OF DaVID, HAVE MERCY ON 
 
 ME. And many charged him that he should hold his peace ; 
 
 BUT HE CRIED THE MORE A GREAT DEAL, ThOU SON OF DaTID HAVE 
 MERCY ON ME. AnD JeSUS STOOD STILL, AND COMMANDED HIM TO BE 
 CALLED ; AND THEY CALL THE BLIND MAN, SAYING UNTO HIM, Be OF 
 GOOD COMFORT, RISE ; HE CALLETH THEE. AnD HE, CASTING AWAY 
 HIS GARMENT, ROSE, AND CAME TO JeSUS. AnD JeSUS ANSWERED 
 AND SAID UNTO HIM, WhAT WILT THOU THAT I SHOULD DO UNTO THEE? 
 The BLIND MAN SAID UNTO HIM, LORD, THAT I MIGHT RECEIVE MY 
 
 SIGHT. And Jesus said unto him, Go thy way; thy faith hath 
 
 MADE THEE WHOLE. AnD IMMEDIATELY HE RECEIVED HIS SIGHT AND 
 
 FOLLOWED Jesus in the way. — Mark x. 4G — 52. 
 
 The wisdom of our Saviour is strikingly exemplified 
 in his accomplishing a great variety of momentous 
 results by a single act. The miracle recorded in our 
 text subserves a highly useful end in evincing the Di- 
 vine authority of the mission of Christ. . Besides this 
 main design, however, it accomplished several other 
 important objects. It relieved extreme suffering, and 
 
THE IMPETRATION OF MERCY. 57 
 
 elicited gratitude and praise to God. Not less im- 
 portant to us is the influence of the recorded narra- 
 tive, in encouraging all the needy to make application 
 to Christ for relief; and in illustrating the principles 
 according to which God bestows his gifts upon sup- 
 pliants. 
 
 I SHALL LIMIT MYSELF TO THIS ONE DESIGN OF THE 
 PASSAGE, AND ASK YOUR ATTENTION TO SEVERAL FEA- 
 TURES IN THE STORY, BY WHICH I HOPE TO SHOW YOU 
 IN AN INTELLIGIBLE LIGHT HOW TO OBTAIN THE FAVOR 
 
 OF God. 
 
 It can scarcely be doubted by any reflecting mind, 
 that one object in restoring this blind man to the use 
 of his eyesight, and in preserving a record of the 
 deed, and of the circumstances attending it, was to 
 set forth clearly the principles according to which 
 God bestows gifts upon men. I shall assume, there- 
 fore, in this discourse, that all who now hear me need 
 favors from God; that your condition by nature is 
 not less necessitous than that of Bar-Timeus, and that 
 the principles brought to view in this narrative are of 
 universal application. Let it be observed : — 
 
 1. First of all, then, that a view of his necessities as 
 being very great, moved this blind man to his earnest 
 and successful endeavors to obtain relief from the Sa- 
 viour. Perhaps there are no suff*erers among our un- 
 happy race that can awaken deeper sympathy and a 
 more tender pity in our bosoms than the blind. They 
 are cut ofi" from so many innocent delights, so inca- 
 pacitated for useful employments, and exposed to so 
 
58 SERMON III. 
 
 many dangers, where others walk in safety; that we 
 can scarcely look upon a blind man Avithout an in- 
 voluntary yearning for his restoration to the light of 
 day. This poor beggar betokens, by the earnestness 
 and irrepressible importunity of his cry, that he has 
 pondered deeply the gloomy necessities of his case. 
 He was each morning awaked by the hum of human 
 voices, and the songs of birds, and the stir of business; 
 but the same darkness ever remained to him. He 
 knew from others that the light silently climbed up 
 the sky every day, and threw its golden robes over 
 the mountains, and spread green carpets upon the 
 lawns, and rich embroideries upon the fields and gar- 
 dens ; yet, to him, over all this was thrown a black 
 pall, wrapping alike universal nature and his own soul 
 in impenetrable gloom. His desires were mocked by 
 the suggestions of one sense and the stern denials of 
 another. If he heard the notes of music, and those 
 most musical of all sounds the tones of affection and 
 friendship, yet he saw not the more interesting play 
 of the gentler sentiments as they come and go with 
 smiles and tears, with pensive marches, and jubilant 
 dances, upon the human countenance. He might feel 
 the sun's heat only to be reminded that its light availed 
 naught for him, and thus address it, as Milton did, in 
 his blindness. 
 
 " But thou rcvisitest not these eyes, that roll in vain 
 To find thy piercing ray, and find no da%n^ 
 So thick a drop serene hath quenched their orbs, 
 Or dim suflfusion veiled ; — thus with the year 
 
THE IMPETRATION OF MERCY. 59 
 
 Seasons return, but not to me returns, 
 Day, or the sweet approach of e'en or morn, 
 Or sight of vernal bloom, or summer's rose, 
 Or flocks, or herds, or human face divine ; 
 But cloud instead, and ever-during dark 
 Surrounds me, from the cheerful ways of men 
 Cut off, and for the book of knowledge fair, 
 Presented with a universal blank; 
 Of Nature's works to me expunged and rased. 
 And wisdom at one entrance quite shut out." 
 
 But, besides being deprived of these pure pleasures, 
 he was incapacitated for the ordinary avocations of 
 life. Destitute of worldly possessions, he had no hope 
 of acquiring wealth, nor even of securing a comforta- 
 ble competency. On the contrary, he depended on 
 the charities of a cold world. The self-respect that 
 belongs to ordinary independence was denied him. 
 If he went abroad, every step was attended with dan- 
 ger. He sat, therefore, by the way-side and begged. 
 
 Is it wonderful that " the darkness of his dull abode, 
 fell on him as a heavy load?" Is it wonderful that 
 he was aroused when he heard the footsteps of a pass- 
 ing multitude, and that, on learning that Jesus of 
 Nazareth, who had relieved so many of the wretched, 
 was going by, he cried aloud and said, "Jesus, thou 
 son of David, have mercy on me!" Here was the 
 spring of his desires, his first motive to exertion. He 
 had contemplated his real condition. He felt that it 
 was wretched. There was light enough. The world 
 was full of it. But it was of no avail to him. The 
 earth was adorned with beauties, and the heavens were 
 
60 SERMON III. 
 
 ever and anon hung all about with a gorgeous tapes- 
 try ; but, to him, it was all a dark and naked waste. 
 The world was a storehouse of food and raiment ; but 
 he was in beggary and rags, because he could not de- 
 scry the paths of successful industry. He had eyes 
 to see, but their vision was veiled, and he saw not. 
 These views prepared him to make strenuous exertions 
 for relief. 
 
 Precisely in the same manner, my friends, must the 
 work begin with you if you ever find relief for your 
 spiritual necessities. Contemplate your religious state. 
 If unconverted, you are blind alike to the beauty of 
 heavenly things, to the means of supplying your spirit- 
 ual wants, and to the dangers which beset your path. 
 There are other objects for the mind to look upon be- 
 sides those of the senses; and these objects are as 
 much above material things as man's intellectual and 
 spiritual nature is above his physical organs. There 
 are high orders of pure intelligences rising in succes- 
 sive grades of excellence from redeemed saints to 
 angels, and archangels, and thrones, and dominions, 
 and powers. Among all these there is one law of im- 
 partial benevolence, one universal sympathy. In- 
 finitely above the highest rank of created beings is 
 God, the maker and monarch of all. His government 
 possesses overpowering attractions. Its end is high, 
 involving the well-being of the universe ; the glory of 
 liis own diaracter. Its laws are simple, imposing the 
 obligations of universal love and good-will. The 
 penalty is as satisfactory as possible, and as terrific 
 
THE TMPETRATION OF MERCY. .61 
 
 as it is satisfactory, giving to the transgressor the 
 very position which he has himself chosen, separation 
 from his God; and rendering that separation eternal. 
 His system of grace and mercy is amazing. Its first 
 revealment in heaven filled that blessed world with 
 astonishment and delight. Its most sensible com- 
 mencement, in the incarnation of the Son of God, drew 
 the angelic choirs down to earth, and every sinner 
 that has been converted since, has caused a new thrill 
 of joy among the angels of God. All the saints in 
 heaven and on earth, and all the heavenly hosts unite 
 with God himself in contemplating these glorious ob- 
 jects. 
 
 These are the visions of those who have been brought 
 out of darkness into God's marvellous light. Like 
 Moses, they endure as seeing him who is invisible. 
 Like Paul, they say, amid the sharpest trials, " our 
 light affliction, which is but for a moment, worketh for 
 us a far more exceeding and eternal weight of glory ; 
 while we look not at the things which are seen, but 
 at the things which are not seen; for the things which 
 are seen are temporal; but the things which are not 
 seen are eternal." To the beauties of these high 
 objects, as an unconverted sinner, you are blind. 
 God's character does not attract your delighted gaze. 
 The principles of his government do not win your 
 attention. If you turn your thoughts towards your 
 Maker you do not catch the right view of his character. 
 Your position is wrong for beholding the object aright. 
 If you stood before him as his people did when in 
 6 
 
62 SERMON III. 
 
 obedience to liis command thejleft the house of bond- 
 age, you should, like them, recognize his presence like 
 the cloud of mercy that embosomed them by day, and 
 "was as a wall of fire for their defence at night. But, 
 you are on the Egyptian side of it; you see only 
 frowns and darkness. If your attention be directed 
 towards Christ, he is as a root out of dry ground, and 
 there is no form nor comeliness in him, nor beauty 
 to your eye, that you should desire him. Did it never 
 occur to you, my impenitent friend, that what Paul 
 said of a large class of sinners might apply most ex- 
 actly to your own case ? "When they knew God they 
 glorified him not as God, neither were thankful, but 
 became vain in their imaginations, and their foolish 
 heart was darkened." Did you ever reflect upon 
 what is contained in the fourth chapter and eighteenth 
 verse of his Epistle to the Ephesians? If you will 
 think carefully of what he there says, you will per- 
 ceive that he could not have drawn the picture more 
 accurately if you had yourself sat for the portrait. 
 His language is, " Having the understanding dark- 
 ened, being alienated from the life of God through 
 the ignorance that is in them, because of the blind- 
 ness of their heart." And, certain it is that you do 
 not view aright the means of supplying your spirit- 
 ual necessities. You endeavor, by some slight amend- 
 ment in morals, to meet the wants of your spiritual 
 nature. Experience is against your success, and ought 
 to cut off all hope from this source at once. You 
 look for light, and behold darkness. You seek to keep 
 
THE IMPETRATION OF MERCY. 63 
 
 the law as a ground of justification. It cannot be 
 done ; poor, blinded soul, desist from the vain attempt. 
 The Lord shall smite thee with madness and blindness 
 and astonishment of heart, and thou shalt grope at 
 noonday as the blind gropeth in darkness, and thou 
 shalt not prosper in thy ways. 
 
 Equally blind are you to the real dangers of your 
 state. You know neither the number nor the power 
 of the temptations that may assail you, nor the strength 
 of your own corruptions. But God has taught us that 
 the way of the wicked is as darkness ; they know not 
 at what they stumble. Their way, says the Psalmist, 
 is dark and slippery ; and Jeremiah says : " Give glory 
 to the Lord your God before he cause darkness, and 
 before your feet stumble upon the dark mountains, 
 and while ye look for light he turn it into the shadow 
 of death and make it gross darkness." No, you will 
 never seek and find the blessing of God till you will 
 fully contemplate your blind, and guilty, and needy 
 state. Say not that you are not, and cannot be sen- 
 sible of your spiritual necessities. Only ponder the 
 character of God, and the methods of his grace, and 
 you shall soon be conscious of your blindness. Bring 
 yourself to the study of the Divine word, and you shall 
 learn that your soul is full of midnight. Carry your- 
 self forward to death and the judgment, and you shall 
 perceive that you are poor, and miserable, and blind, 
 and naked, and in want of all things. Especially 
 will this be so if you will dwell upon these truths with 
 
64 SERMON III. 
 
 fervent prayer for the illuminating influence of the 
 Divine Spirit. 
 
 II. Anotlicr tiling wldcli marked ilie course of the 
 blind mendicant, and was essential to his relief, ivas 
 his application to Clirist alone. He may have tried 
 all prescribed remedies. He may have listened to a 
 hundred advisers, and found them " physicians of no 
 value." But now Jesus, the anointed son of David, 
 is passing. Others have been healed by him. The 
 dead have been awaked by his power. Hope springs 
 up in his heart. A power is present that can unbar 
 the dungeon windows of his imprisoned soul. Cast- 
 ing away all other hopes, and all delay, he seizes the 
 opportunity and cries to the Saviour : "Jesus, thou 
 son of David, have mercy on me.'' He made his 
 application to the right source and at the right time. 
 No other power in the universe can relieve him. No 
 other power is so ready to interpose in behalf of the 
 wretched. 
 
 But you must take the same course if you will find 
 relief for your spiritual necessities. No other means 
 can avail for you but the intervention of the Son of 
 God. No forms of devotion can cause you to see the 
 light of your Father's countenance. No priestly ab- 
 solution can save you ; Christ alone hath power to 
 forgive sins. No sacrifice of innocent animals can 
 meet your necessities. 
 
 " Not all the blood of beasts 
 On Jewish altars slain, 
 Could ;];ivc the guilty conscience peace, 
 Or wash awav the stain. 
 
THE IMPETRATION OF MERCY. 65 
 
 "But Christ, the heavenly Lamb, 
 Takes all our sins away ; 
 A sacrifice of nobler name, 
 And richer blood than they." 
 
 No intercession of your Christian friends or your 
 pastor can by themselves avail for you ; but you have 
 an High-Priest that can be touched with the feeling 
 of your infirmity. He ever liveth to make pre^vailing 
 intercession for all who come to him. Go, then, to 
 your mere forms of devotion, and you shall be sent 
 away unhealed and unblessed. Go to your solemn 
 ritual, with reliance upon it for peace, and your sins 
 shall still lie heavy on your soul. Rest upon the 
 correctness of your doings, your external morality, 
 and you lean upon a spear that shall pierce your own 
 soul. Go to the law of God, and attempt by keeping 
 it to find the light of life, and you shall find that you 
 have come to blackness, and darkness, and tempest; 
 and the thunders and lightnings of Sinai shall serve 
 only to fill your soul with terror and tenfold night. 
 But come to Jesus, the mediator of the new covenant ; 
 come to the blood of sprinkling ; come to him who 
 healed every applicant that approached him in the 
 days of his flesh; to him who hath said: " Come unto 
 me, all ye that labor and are heavy laden, and I will 
 give you rest." Come to him, in your darkness, and 
 blindness, and guilt, and say: ''Lord, that I may 
 receive my sight," and, like this poor blind mendi- 
 cant, you shall rejoice in your recovered vision, and 
 gratefuly follow your Deliverer. 
 
6Q SERMON III. 
 
 III. Another thine/ worthy of notice in the conduct 
 of Bartimcus^ as intimately connected ivitli his success, 
 7vas his 2^(''^'seve7'ance. It is according to a general 
 arrangement of Divine providence that perseverance 
 is necessary to the accomplishment of desirable ob- 
 jects. God will not violate this general law in the 
 methods of his grace. How shall it be known to the 
 multitude that the blind man really confides in Christ 
 for healing? How shall his own faith be invigorated 
 and proved but by his being left to utter earnest and 
 repeated and importunate cries for relief? This he 
 did at the first; for we read: " He began to cry out," 
 implying that his cries were reiterated. Such was 
 his earnestness, too, that the multitude were disturbed 
 by it, and many charged him to hold his peace. Here 
 was a powerful influence to cool his ardor, and repress 
 his exertions. If he had not been in a most deter- 
 mined state of mind, and possessed a deep sense of 
 his necessities, and a firm confidence in the Saviour, he 
 had desisted under such discouragement. But no, 
 his need is great; he is blind; none but Christ can 
 restore him, and he can ; but he is passing. Shall 
 he heed the opposition of the unpitying multitude ? 
 '' He cried the more a great deal — Jesus, thou son of 
 David, have mercy on me." 
 
 On the same principle, if you will find mercy with 
 your Saviour, you must persevere. You must count 
 the cost. You must ask: '' What will it profit a man, 
 if he gain the whole w^orld and lose his soul?" 
 If temptations assail, and worldly influences and avo- 
 
THE IMPETRATION OF MERCY. 67 
 
 cations seem to charge you to hold your peace, you 
 must cry the more a great deal : " Jesus, thou son of 
 David, have mercy on me." If you find the subject 
 of your eternal interests easily sliding away from 
 your mind, every day displaced by worldly things, 
 you must rush away from them to your retirement 
 and read the word of God, and ponder the darkness 
 and guilt and wretchedness of your lost estate, and 
 beg of your Saviour to deliver you from such insensi- 
 bility. You must think of Christ as passing by, in 
 these precious moments of trial, moments which will 
 decide your eternal state. You must resist all diverting 
 influences, as the voice of a senseless throng charging 
 you to hold your peace, and you must so much the 
 more a great deal cry to Christ for help on account 
 of the power of such temptations. 
 
 Believe me, my friends, there is no other way for 
 you to enter the kingdom than by very great earnest- 
 ness and perseverance. Bunyan,in his divine allegory, 
 represents the man that would enter into the spiritual 
 kingdom of Christ, as stopping his ears, and running, 
 that he might not be diverted from his course. And 
 our Saviour says : *' Strive to enter into the difficult 
 gate." In the original it is aycovtlao^f, agonize to 
 enter the strait gate. The difficulty is set forth by 
 two expressions. The word strait here is used in 
 the sense of narrow, or straitness, as when it is said 
 by the sons of the Prophets to Elisha, " the place where 
 we dwell is too strait for us;" and the word agonize 
 is borrowed from the struggle of contending armies, 
 
68 SERMON III. 
 
 and the contest of the Grecian games. You must 
 agonize, then, for an entrance into the kingdom of 
 heaven. '' The kingdom of heaven suffereth violence, 
 and the violent take it bj force." Not one lost sinner 
 shall find favor with Christ, who does not evince, by 
 his earnest importunity and perseverance, that he 
 prizes that favor above all things. " Except a man 
 forsake all that he hath (saith the Saviour) he can- 
 nut be my disciple." 
 
 IV. Finally^ the hind of jjlea with which the sub- 
 ject of this narrative approached the Saviour was 
 such as became a guilty and helpless sinner. He 
 asked for mercy. He complained not of his sufferings, 
 as if undeserved. He pretended not to the least 
 claim upon the Saviour. He pleaded no services ren- 
 dered to God ; no good intentions in the past, no 
 promises of amendment for the future, as reasons for 
 granting his request. On the contrary, his sad con- 
 dition and the compassion of Christ were his only 
 plea. This is the only plea by which any soul of 
 our lost race can successfully approach the Saviour. 
 *' God be merciful to me a sinner," is substantially 
 the only prayer that can avail for the relief of your 
 necessities. " Jesus, thou son of David, have mercy 
 on me," becomes every sinner of our lost race, as 
 well as it became the poor blind man that sat by the 
 way-side and begged. 
 
 This short period of trial may be regarded as the 
 period in which Christ is passing by. If you do not 
 
THE IMPETRATION OF MERCY. 69 
 
 see clearly your own state, and the passing Saviour 
 and his train, yet, do you not perceive, as if with the 
 less vivid sense of hearing, the passing of a multitude? 
 Listen ; it is the tramp of a thousand millions pass- 
 ing on to the judgment. There is a confused murmur 
 of voices. Some are conversing and laughing in 
 thoughtless mirth. Some are bewailing the loss of 
 their first-born and their loved companions. Some 
 are murmuring against God's providential dealings in 
 taking away their estates. One group is scoffing at 
 the religion of Christ, and profaning his name ; an- 
 other large company are chanting impure songs to 
 heathen deities. Here are Christian worshippers sing- 
 ing the praises of God ; there is a band of youthful 
 converts praying, and asking, with the converted Saul, 
 "Lord, what wilt thou have me to do ?" Here are 
 preachers of the everlasting gospel, endeavoring to 
 make their message heard amid the noisy throng by 
 lifting up their voices like a trumpet : " Ho ! every 
 one that thirsteth, come ye to the waters, and he that 
 hath no money, come ye, buy and eat ; yea, buy 
 wine and milk, without money and without price." 
 The Saviour is moving on with his people. The 
 Lord their God is with them, and the shout of a king 
 is among them. Ask you, poor blind sinner, what 
 meaneth this? I tell you, Jesus of Nazareth passeth 
 by. Now call upon him. Sit not idly there begging 
 a poor pittance of comfort from this cold world. If 
 you are wretched, your very miseries will move him. 
 If you are guilty, that guilt is the foundation of a 
 
70 SERMON III. 
 
 plea for mercy. lie has saved others. He has 
 power to save you. He has never been known to 
 refuse an earnest and persevering suppliant for his 
 mercy. Cry to him alone for help. Look not to 
 your "works, to your amiable feelings, to your good 
 intentions. Look to " the Lamb of God, which 
 taketh away the sins of the world." Go not to your 
 Christian friends merely. Rest not on the intention 
 to visit your pastor, and seek his instruction. Go 
 to your Saviour himself, the friend of sinners. Tell 
 him of your blindness ; tell him of your guilt ; tell 
 him of that strange insensibility which has fallen like 
 a palsy upon your spiritual being. 
 
 If temptations assail ; if like an insolent mob 
 they charge you to hold your peace, then cry so 
 much the more a great deal, " Jesus, thou son of 
 David, have mercy on me." Rush away from teinp- 
 tations. Go into your closet and shut the door ; yes, 
 bolt it, bar out secular cares, and pray in secret. Be 
 earnest. Be importunate. Be persevering. Take 
 the kingdom of heaven by violence. Beg for mercy 
 alone. That is the plea which is never ineffectual. 
 But, oh ! be determined, lest you lose your precious 
 soul. Cast yourself, in your helplessness and guilt, 
 at your Saviour's feet, and say in the language of the 
 hymn: " And if I perish, I will pray, and perish only 
 there." But then you shall not perish. Then the 
 people of God shall have reason to say : " Be of good 
 comfort ; rise, he calleth thee." Put yourself in the 
 place of that poor blind beggar. Ask, may I not be 
 
THE IMPETRATION OF MERCY. 71 
 
 as bappj as lie ? Yes, you may. You may apply 
 the whole narrative to yourself, by adopting as your 
 own the divine hymn of Newton, founded on this 
 interesting and instructive story. 
 
 *' Mercy, oh, thou son of David, 
 Thus blind Bartimeus prayed ; 
 Others by thy grace are saved, 
 Now to me afford thine aid. 
 
 " Many for his crying chid him, 
 But he called the louder still ; 
 Till his gracious Saviour bid him, 
 Come, and ask me what you will. 
 
 ** Money was not what he wanted. 
 Though by begging used to live ; 
 But he asked, and Jesus granted. 
 Alms which none but he could give. 
 
 *' * Lord, remove this grievous blindness. 
 Turn this darkness into day ;' 
 Straight he saw, and, won by kindness, 
 Followed Jesus in the way. 
 
 " Now, methinks, I hear him praying. 
 Publishing to all around, 
 ' Friends, is not my case amazing. 
 What a Saviour I have found.' 
 
 "0, that all the blind but knew him, 
 And would be advised by me ; 
 Surely they would hasten to him, 
 lie would cause them all to see." 
 
SERMON IV/'= 
 
 THE CHRISTIAN FALLING ASLEEP. 
 And when he had said tuis, he fell asleep. — Acls vii. GO. 
 
 The history of our race is so ordered by an all- 
 "wise Providence, as to awaken a perpetual interest. 
 We live amid changes. We have scarcely a day of 
 unvarying experience. Those changes possess the 
 more power over us because they are replete with 
 contrast. If the morning beams brightly, and soft 
 airs breathe around — ere one brief day is past, this 
 scene of quiet beauty is often changed to a raging 
 tempest. If the rising sun be veiled in sackcloth, and 
 fierce winds howl along the sky, a few hours may 
 suflSce to paint the bow upon the pile of sleeping 
 vapor and to cheer us with a fair day. 
 
 The organized substances around us suggest con- 
 tinually contrasts of an equally striking character. 
 By the side of playful infancy, we meet decrepid age. 
 
 * Preached on tlic occasion of the death of.Mr. Bennington 
 Gill. 
 
THE CHRISTIAN FALLING ASLEEP. 73 
 
 The flexible sapling grows near the sturdy oak. The 
 smooth pebble lies close by the granite cliiF. The 
 tiniest animals walk beside the huge elephant, and 
 the little minnows surround the monsters of the deep. 
 There is a similar contrast among the mental and 
 moral qualities of men. Pure taste is found in im- 
 mediate proximity with vulgar coarseness. Ethereal 
 genius appears beside a plodding dulness. So, also, 
 are kindly sentiments contrasted with savage ferocity, 
 and the violence of sin with the attractive gentleness 
 of virtue. Such a contrast lends a peculiar sweet- 
 ness to the closing scene in the life of Stephen. 
 
 When you have contemplated the violence and rage 
 of his enemies, when you have seen them stopping 
 their ears, shouting with a loud voice and rushing on 
 him with one accord, hurling their missiles and impre- 
 cations upon his innocent head, you are prepared to 
 appreciate the vivid contrast in the spirit and beha- 
 vior of the first Christian martyr. While they fasten 
 their eyes upon the object of their hate with fierce 
 aspect, he is calmly looking up to heaven, beholding 
 the glory of God, and Jesus standing on the right 
 hand of God. While they are rushing forward, with 
 murderous purpose, he is meekly kneeling and wor- 
 shipping his Maker. While they are breaking forth 
 in violent invective, he is praying, "Lord, lay not 
 this sin to their charge." In short, while the restless- 
 ness and violence of a sinful temper waken our ab- 
 horrence, we are prepared to discover an inimitable 
 ■7 
 
74 SERMON IV. 
 
 beauty in the inspired description of the martyr when 
 it is said, "lie fell asleep." 
 
 I am led to invite your attention to this text, by 
 the most solemn and afflicting event which has occur- 
 red in relation to this church since its organization. 
 One of its original twenty-six members has been re- 
 moved by death. I do not consider myself called 
 upon to deliver funeral discourses whenever members 
 of the church shall decease. Such a practice is 
 adapted to create the impression that a service of this 
 nature is demanded by the respect due to the dead, 
 and that a want of sympathy with bereaved mourners 
 would always be implied in neglecting it. An un- 
 reasonable restraint, therefore, would be placed upon 
 a pastor in instructing his charge, if it should come to 
 be considered an indispensable duty to deliver a fune- 
 ral discourse whenever an esteemed Christian might 
 be called away to his final rest. But, in this instance, 
 there are, in my view, peculiar reasons for endeavor- 
 ing to make a practical use of the providence of God. 
 
 Mr. Gill was one of the founders of this church, a 
 member of the respected Board of Trustees, a teacher 
 in the Sabbath-school, and a man whose presence and 
 voice in the devotional meetings of the church con- 
 tinually aided in supplying with oil the lamp upon our 
 altars. He was at the head of a numerous family, 
 and exercised a paternal influence over an interesting 
 circle of youthful females during the most important 
 period of their education. In addition to these cir- 
 cumstances, his years and maturity of Christian 
 
THE CHRISTIAN FALLING ASLEEP. 75 
 
 character, and his peaceful and sudden exit, render 
 this a highly favorable period for contemplating 
 
 THE CHRISTIAN FALLINa ASLEEP. 
 
 From the obvious analogies that exist between these 
 two states, it has been common, wherever the doctrine 
 of immortality has been received, to speak of death 
 as a sleep. The ancient patriarchs are represented, 
 in sacred history, as having successively fallen asleep 
 and been gathered to their fathers. 
 
 The death of a good man is analogous to sleep in 
 the willingness with which he yields to it. We do 
 not mean to say that a Christian mind in the warm 
 pursuit of those objects which awaken holy enterprise 
 ever really courts death. It is only when depressed 
 and weary, or when sinking under diseased sensibili- 
 ties, or when he has received an intimation from God 
 that he will call him hence, that the Christian looks for- 
 ward to death as an object of immediate desire. Yet, 
 the Christian is willing to depart and to be with Christ. 
 That is to say, he is willing in the sense in which an 
 industrious man is willing to sink down in natural 
 sleep. The man of enterprise, in the earnest prose- 
 cution of his proper calling, does not desire in the 
 early morning, or even late in the afternoon, abruptly 
 to desist from his unfinished labor, and to be overcome 
 with slumber. But he looks forward to the hour of 
 retirement and repose, and feels not a little cheered 
 in his toil by the hope of rest. As the labors of the 
 
7G SERMON IV. 
 
 (lay draw near to a close, and as tlie purposes of 
 watchful care have been mainly accomplished, the 
 approach of drowsy feelings is not unwelcome. So 
 we have seen an aged servant of God, after having 
 *' accomplished," according to the language of the 
 patriarch, " as an hireling his day" retiring to his 
 final rest with a calm satisfaction. He has educated 
 his children. He has blest his generation. He has 
 prepared the account of his stewardship. He has fin- 
 ished his work. To him the approach of death, with 
 its benumbing slumbers, is not unwelcome. It is 
 pleasant to fall asleep. 
 
 The willina^ness of the Christian to enter on his 
 final rest, extends further than we have now de- 
 scribed. He is willing to retire before all the labor 
 which he had sought to accomplish could be achieved. 
 One who is in the most earnest pursuit of a secular 
 end may strongly desire to be able to hold out 
 through the whole day in the severest toil, but if he 
 find a weariness coming over him, and if a heavy 
 lethargy pervade his frame, he will yield to the 
 necessities of tired nature, and give himself up wil- 
 lingly to sleep. So a Christian, when he finds in him- 
 self the indications of the approach of his final rest, 
 when, in an unexpected hour, the intimation is given 
 from his Master that the period of rest is approach- 
 ing, though it may require a short interval to detach 
 his thoughts from the objects and employments that 
 immediately surround him, though some reflection 
 may be needful to compose his mind, he is ready. 
 
THE CHRISTIAN FALLING ASLEEP. 77 
 
 He may say to his friends, it is sudden, it is unex- 
 pected. I had thought it probable that I might 
 spend a few more years with you, but it is all right. 
 All you can do is to pray for me. I have not neg- 
 lected a preparation for this hour. Jesus Christ is 
 my only trust. I rest on the mercy of God, in the 
 atoning sacrifice of my Saviour. Then, he may turn 
 his regards for a moment to the interests and the 
 friends whom he is about to leave, and in few words 
 make all needful arrangements, and leave farewell 
 messages of love and spiritual counsel. This work 
 finished, he can surrender his mind more completely 
 to the things of another world. He now anticipates 
 meeting dear relations and friends that have long since 
 fallen asleep. The sweet "fields of living green," 
 and the pure river of the water of life present them- 
 selves to his quickened faith. The bright forms of 
 angels and saints pass before him. He sees, as did 
 the dying martyr, heaven opened, and Jesus standing 
 on the right hand of God. He is more than willing 
 to depart ; he begins to feel the sentiments that 
 glowed in the breast of John, when he said, " Come, 
 Lord Jesus, come quickly." He peacefully falls 
 asleep. 
 
 One of the things which prepares the Christian to 
 depart with such readiness, is an acquaintance with 
 the fact that he is about to escape from great evils. 
 The contrast between earth and heaven must be very 
 great and truly delightful. A languid and diseased 
 body is laid aside for a purely spiritual and health- 
 
78 SERMON IV. 
 
 ful state. Degrading propensities and sin arc ex- 
 changed for pure desires, and unwearied and uninter- 
 rupted holiness. The conflict with temptation gives 
 place to the sweet constraints of heavenly influences. 
 Death is the very last conflict that a Christian shall 
 he called on to endure, in the whole eternity of his 
 being. 
 
 How delightful must have been the escape of Ste- 
 phen from the power of all his foes. His persecu- 
 tors fancied that they were effecting his ruin, yet 
 they were only the instruments of translating him at 
 once into the New Jerusalem. Before, he was like 
 the helpless mariner, when cast from his bark upon 
 the angry ocean. His enemies were as mighty bil- 
 lows, rolling on with tempestuous rage. Their moun- 
 tain height, and dark forms and menacing roar por- 
 tend destruction, but the excess of their anger only 
 contributes to his safety. He is buoyed up by their 
 swell, and carried clear over the rocky cliffs and left 
 in a beautiful garden. He is safe forever from their 
 assaults. Though Christians, generally, at the pre- 
 sent time, are not called on to endure such a conflict 
 in the last hour, yet their sins, the temptations of 
 worldly cares, and the assaults of their great adver- 
 sary can do much to break their peace. But death 
 completes all their warfare. This one conflict ends 
 in eternal peace. Though the last appeal made to your 
 senses as a spectator might be a distorted visage and 
 a deep groan, yet, to the vision and the hearing of 
 faith, a bright immortal spirit is disclosed, and an as- 
 
THE CHRISTIAN FALLING ASLEEP. 79 
 
 cending shout is heard of victory, victory, victory ! 
 Long before the arrival of such a crisis the mature 
 Christian has often reflected on the deliverances 
 which death shall bring, and this has prepared him to 
 welcome the hour of final discharge. 
 
 But the positive anticipations of his future state 
 have created real yearnings for another world. 
 Whatever the sensual and worldly mind may think 
 of it, the spiritual believer in Christ has thought 
 much of the nature of his heavenly inheritance. 
 While it seemed distant, while he did not regard the 
 time of his departure as likely to arrive till seve- 
 ral more years should elapse, he was scarcely aware 
 himself of the strength to which his cherished inter- 
 est had arisen. As one residing in a foreign country 
 may feel quite content, and may be subject to very 
 little comparative excitement in respect to his return, 
 yet, when the day of embarkation for his native land 
 has come, all his former reflections crowd into his 
 mind, and he is himself surprised at the strength of 
 attachment which he feels for the place of his desti- 
 nation. The institutions of his country never seemed 
 so beneficent. Its mountains and valleys and streams 
 never appeared so beautiful. The family mansion, 
 and the dear familiar faces, never before awakened 
 such a home affection. So, I say, the Christian, who 
 has long regarded himself as a stranger and pilgrim 
 on the earth, and who has been looking for a city 
 which hath foundations, whose maker and builder is 
 God, feels a fresh and greatly augmented delight in 
 
80 SERMON IV. 
 
 contemplating his heavenly inheritance in such a near 
 prospect. He is ready to say in the poetic language 
 of Tupper's Proverbial Philosophy : — 
 
 " My trust is strong to dwell in many -worlds, and 
 cull of many brethren there, sweet knowledge ever 
 new. I yearn for realms where fancy shall be filled 
 and the ecstasies of freedom shall be felt. And the 
 soul reign gloriously, risen to its royal destinies. I 
 look to recognize again, through the beautiful mask 
 of their perfection, the dear familiar faces I have 
 somewhile loved on earth. I long to talk with grate- 
 ful tongue of storms and perils past, and praise the 
 mighty Pilot that hath steered us through the rapids. 
 He shall be the focus of it all, the very heart of glad- 
 ness. My soul is athirst for God, the God who 
 dwelt in man. Prophet, Priest, and King ; the Sacri- 
 fice, the Substitute, the Saviour. Rapture of the 
 blessed in the hunted one of earth, the pardoner 
 in the victim. How many centuries of joy concen- 
 trate in that theme. How often a Methusalem might 
 count his thousand years, and leave it unexhausted. 
 And lo ! the heavenly Jerusalem, with all its gates, one 
 pearl, that pearl of countless price, the door by which 
 we entered. Come, tread the golden streets, and join 
 that glorious throng, the happy ones of heaven and 
 earth, ten thousand times ten thousand. Hark, they 
 sing that song, and cast their crown before him. 
 Their souls alight with love, glory, and praise and 
 immortality! Veil thine eyes; no son of time may 
 
THE CHRISTIAN FALLING ASLEEP. 81 
 
 see that holy vision. And even the seraph at thy 
 side hath covered his face with his wings." 
 
 If these anticipations are interrupted by looking 
 back upon the church, and upon dear Christian 
 friends, it is but for a moment. The thought again 
 recurs that the time is short, that very soon dear 
 friends will follow, and that they will be reunited in 
 a happier sphere, never more to be separated. Why 
 should not the Christian die calmly ? Why should 
 not his decease be analogous to his sinking sweetly 
 into sleep ? 
 
 " How blest the righteous when they die ; 
 When holy souls retire to rest, 
 How mildly beams the closing eye, 
 How gently heaves the expiring breast. 
 
 *' So fades a summer cloud away, 
 
 So sinks the gale when storms are o'er, 
 So gently shuts the eye of day, 
 So dies a wave along the shore.'^ 
 
 How inestimable the privilege of meeting death in 
 such a state. I am sure that any one of you that 
 should seriously reflect on it, would give more to be 
 sure of such a death-bed than you would give for all 
 the- treasures and honors and worldly enjoyments that 
 earth can bestow. What would be the richest diadem 
 ever worn in this world compared with beholding by 
 a strong faith a crown of glory laid up in heaven for 
 you ? What would be the company of princes and 
 their courts, all proffering you their highest regards, 
 compared with a discovery, from the death-bed, of the 
 
82 SERMON IV. 
 
 angels that Lore Lazarus to Abraham's bosom ? 
 What are the robes and costly decorations that gold 
 and silver can procure, compared with the pure white 
 robe of holiness, the wedding garment ? What are 
 the music and festive conversations of the most bril- 
 liant circles in the saloons of pleasure, compared 
 with the death-bed praises and triumphs of a dying 
 believer? Tell me, gay and thoughtless one, could 
 you deliberately prefer all earthly good to one happy 
 last hour ? If you could make it sure, by a formal 
 written contract with Christ, that you should have all 
 the riches and honors and pleasures of earth for a 
 hundred years, on condition that you should not 
 have a happy Christian death-bed, would you put 
 your name to such a contract? But just such a 
 happy death, such a falling asleep in Christ, can be 
 secured. I do not deny, indeed, that, if you are a 
 Christian, you may die in an unconscious state. Pos- 
 sibly in an hour of mental derangement, or by a sud- 
 den stroke, you may be removed so unconsciously 
 that you shall enter upon the heavenly state by a 
 surprise as great as it would have been if you had 
 found yourself among the blest when you awoke in 
 your chamber this morning. Still, I say, such a 
 quiet, happy death-bed, or what may be even better, 
 a translation into the kingdom of heaven without any 
 conscious struggle with the king of terrors, may be 
 secured to you. 
 
 Christianity has often come with its comforts in the 
 last hour, where the most fearful apprehensions had 
 
THE CHRISTIAN FALLING ASLEEP. 83 
 
 been previously entertained. It has promised much. 
 " I am the resurrection and the life," said its divine 
 Founder: "if a man believe in me, though he were 
 dead, yet shall he live again." But Christianity has 
 not barely made rich promises, it has performed even 
 more than its promises. It has sustained those who 
 by diligence have acquired a strong faith not only, 
 but it has also opened the portals of immortality to 
 the dying eyes of those who have just embraced its 
 provisions. Old King Manassah, laden with crimes, 
 found pardon and sanctification, and went to dwell 
 with God. The dying thief turned his regards to the 
 Lamb of God, which taketli away the sin of the 
 world, and received assurance that he should that 
 day enter the heavenly Paradise. Many a poor 
 sinner has found the grace of Christ to transcend, by 
 far, all the conceptions which he had entertained of 
 his promises. But in no case has he fallen short of 
 them. Every confiding disciple that has heeded the 
 warning to watch and pray lest he fall into tempta- 
 tion, has neither watched nor prayed in vain. Every 
 one that has given all diligence to make his calling 
 and election sure, has been able to say, with Paul, '' I 
 know whom I have believed, and am persuaded that 
 he is able to keep that which I have committed to him 
 against that day." 
 
 Yet a peaceful death ought not to be expected 
 without a prompt and diligent and long-continued 
 attention to the subject. The grace of the gospel is 
 not so dispensed as to encourage delay and foster an 
 
84 SERMON IV. 
 
 indolent spirit. It is by constant culture that piety 
 grows to a mature state, and maturity of Christian 
 character is the only means of securing for every 
 one a perfectly satisfactory assurance. If you begin 
 to-day, then, to act with decision and persevering in- 
 dustry, you will find the labor sufficiently difficult, to 
 acquire that symmetry of character which shall be 
 demonstrably the legitimate fruit of the gospel. It 
 is only by a toilful and long-continued effort that a 
 selfish habit can be made to give place to one of phi- 
 lanthropy and benevolence. It is no small labor to 
 displace all irascible tempers by the spirit of meek- 
 ness. Much discipline is demanded to induce the 
 soul to wear as its every-day dress the garment of 
 humility. Time is required to store the mind with 
 those thoughts, and to inspire the heart with those 
 sentiments, which shall lead the soul to have its con- 
 versation in heaven. You need many calls and 
 admonitions, and much spiritual instruction in the 
 sanctuary, connected with a serious purpose on your 
 part to improve them. You require the sympathy 
 and counsel and prayers of experienced Christians. 
 You need the influence of solemn and tender sacra- 
 mental seasons; the discipline of the Divine provi- 
 dence in chastisement and mercy, and the plentiful 
 eifusions of the Holy Spirit. All these privileges, long 
 enjoyed and properly improved, may render it com- 
 paratively certain that you shall enjoy a peaceful and 
 happy death. 
 
 Among the means for inducing you to aim at such 
 
THE CHRISTIAN FALLING ASLEEP. 85 
 
 a result, and for aiding you in securing it, no one is 
 more effective than the example of one who has suc- 
 cessfully sought this very end. When such a living 
 example has been removed, therefore, an irreparable 
 loss is experienced. Those that sustain peculiar re- 
 lations to such a removed example, as in the case 
 •which we contemplate to-day, are suffering a bereave- 
 ment more sad than they themselves can imagine. A 
 mourning family, though wounded so deeply, and 
 suffering such a sudden interruption in a large part 
 of their enjoyment, even they can scarcely appreciate 
 the extent of their loss. How, then, shall those young 
 females in the family and in the Sunday-school class 
 appreciate it. Their minds are less mature. Their 
 conceptions of the worth of a moral influence which 
 they have susceptibility enough to feel, are limited. 
 They will feel it keenly. The youthful circle will 
 pour forth showers of tears when they see the vacant 
 place at the table, and are reminded that those simple 
 strains and gentle tones shall never greet their ears 
 again in the room where the family devotions were 
 offered up. 
 
 The orphan class in the Sabbath-school, where 
 shall they find another such a teacher? a teacher who 
 shall unite to such a degree the wisdom of a father 
 with the familiarity of a companion? I am not con- 
 cerned lest they should not feel sufficiently ; but their 
 sobs and tears are no indication of their having ap- 
 preciated their real loss. And who shall supply the 
 place in the church, or estimate our loss ? You will 
 8 
 
86 SERMON IV. 
 
 pardon me, my brethren, if I say to you, I am afraid 
 that not one of you Avill do it. I am afraid I do not 
 myself appreciate it. Many of the best religious 
 influences are quiet in proportion as they are power- 
 ful, so that they are but slightly observed. When a 
 Christian's influence is not connected with official sta- 
 tion, when he is not visibly leading others in some 
 great moral enterprise, he may be exerting the most 
 benign influence, in such a way that it will scarcely 
 attract attention till it ceases. Such a Christian's 
 usefulness is like a quiet stream that swells and over- 
 flows its banks. Its refreshing irrigations steal away 
 to a great distance, secretly imparting verdure and 
 bloom to a thousand plants that had else never swelled 
 from their germs. Multitudes who admire the beauty 
 of the cascade, and are astonished at the power of 
 the useless or even harmful torrent, never discover the 
 utility of that quiet stream till its waters are dried 
 up and the fertility of its banks is disappearing. 
 Would God, my brethren, that we might all see 
 enough of our loss to lead us to emulate the example 
 of doing good always in a blameless way. I am aware 
 that variety in gifts and in the cast of Christian 
 character is demanded by the interests of the church. 
 But no character is more useful, though by that 
 means it may elicit more attention, for its moral obli- 
 quities. The headlong rashness of a Peter may 
 impart a sort of pungent interest to his character as 
 a vigorous reformer. The irascibility of Paul and 
 Barnabas when they quarrelled about taking John and 
 
THE CHRISTIAN FALLING ASLEEP. 87 
 
 Mark as the companion of their travels, did not it is 
 true destroy their usefulness, but it marred it. The 
 unoffending, blameless John was a better character. 
 Oh, that God would impart to his church grace to 
 honor and emulate those who are meek and gentle, 
 and long-suffering and blameless. He has com- 
 mended such in his word : " Blessed are the peace- 
 makers." " God will beautify the meek with salva- 
 tion." 
 
 This solemn and unexpected bereavement makes a 
 most affecting appeal to us all. Let me say to all 
 those young female members of the family of our 
 friend who heard his voice daily in prayer, and 
 those who were under his teaching in the Sunday- 
 school, God has spoken to you, in this act of his 
 providence, with an earnestness and solemnity that is 
 quite uncommon. I know how quickly most impres- 
 sions pass from your young and susceptible hearts. 
 But an impression has now been made that will, I 
 trust, never be wholly effaced. You will remember 
 not merely that a great shock was produced by such 
 a sudden removal of one you so dearly loved, but, 
 you will remember (whatever effect subsequent defec- 
 tive examples of Christians may produce on your 
 mind), that you once knew one in whom the Christian 
 religion was exemplified as everything that is lovely 
 and amiable. You will remember that you have 
 seen piety united with such native qualities as did 
 not prevent a clear disclosure of its beauties. You 
 will not forget the nature of true religion, as you 
 
88 SERMON IV. 
 
 could not forget the verdure and bloom and fragrance 
 of a plant that should really excel every other plant 
 in the vegetable world, if you had seen one specimen 
 of it growing in a genial soil and developing itself 
 in full proportions. What use will you make of this 
 impression? I charge you, as you fear God, and 
 would hope to meet that friend in heaven, now 
 commence, this very hour, seeking the grace of 
 Christ. Go to your Christian parents, to your pious 
 teachers, to your pastor, for that counsel of which you 
 have been suddenly and forever deprived. Go to your 
 Saviour, as he has counselled you, whose lips are 
 sealed, whose voice is hushed, whose tongue is fettered 
 in death. Go now, too. Take up a course of earnest 
 inquiry and fervent prayer, lest you never have from 
 God another call of such tender solemnity and power. 
 Sabbath-school teachers, this event speaks a 
 peculiar language to you. One of your fellow- 
 laborers has fallen asleep. He was the oldest of 
 your number, yet he was obedient to your arrange- 
 ments as any child. There were none among you 
 that he did not love, and none that did not love him, 
 that knew him. His heart was with you in this work. 
 His influence was of such a quiet and gentle kind, 
 that you never could appreciate it till it was removed. 
 The vacant seat in that room, I think I may say 
 without any apprehension of your thinking otherwise, 
 created a deeper sensation than any other vacancy 
 created by an absent teacher could have done. The 
 voice of that beloved fellow-teacher you will hear no 
 
THE CHKISTIAN FALLING ASLEEP. 89 
 
 more. His sudden departure bids you to work -while 
 the day lasts. This is the second bereavement of the 
 kind since the organization of this church. Both 
 were remarkably intelligent, remarkably blameless, 
 and remarkably beloved; both possessed the appear- 
 ance of remarkable health, and both were taken away 
 with a suddenness which created the most surprising 
 shock to your feelings. What, my beloved friends, 
 do these providences teach you ? Do they not bid 
 you to do what you have to do quickly? Do they 
 not admonish those who have the best prospect of 
 continuance in life to be always ready for their de- 
 parture ? 
 
 A vacancy is created in our board of trustees. 
 The record of the manner in which that vacancy 
 occurred will not be made without deep emotion. 
 Will it not also be thought upon with a solemn self- 
 application, by every one of them, that God is ad- 
 monishing the associates of this removed member to 
 be also ready? Will not that part of the church 
 which may be emphatically termed the praying band, 
 those who aim to be always in their place in the 
 meeting for prayer, will not they especially endeavor 
 to improve by this solemn providence? Will none of 
 those who have comparatively neglected this duty, 
 come forward and fill the vacant place? Would God 
 that many new voices might be heard in our social 
 devotions on account of this bereavement. In fine, 
 let all be admonished to act with promptness in regard 
 to their spiritual interests. Two weeks ago, this 
 
 8* 
 
90 SERMON IV. 
 
 morning, there sat in yonder gallery, one of the stated 
 worshippers in this sanctuary, in the care of the 
 Sabbath-school children. Probably not one person 
 within the sound of my voice has a more remarkable 
 glow of health. Ilis countenance beamed with that 
 peculiar brightness which is produced by the union 
 of fine physical health, and intelligence and an habi- 
 tual cheerfulness. On the last Monday morning, even 
 though indisposed, not the least apprehension existed, 
 either in his own mind or that of his physician and 
 friends. Yet early in the evening of the same day 
 he resigned his spirit to God who gave it. The call 
 is as distinct as though a voice from heaven had 
 uttered it: " Be ye also ready, for in such an hour as 
 ye think not the Son of Man cometh." Yes, the 
 Son of Man cometh; he is on his way to arrest your 
 earthly career, and bring you to his bar. If your 
 ears were a little more opened, you might perhaps 
 hear his chariot wheels. If your vision were cleared 
 you might see his bright train, and hear the distinct 
 utterance: " Behold, I come quickly, and my reward is 
 with me." If you are now unprepared for the change, 
 let me implore you to make no delay. Look at your 
 sins, your worldliness, your unbelief, your cold rejec- 
 tions, and your perpetual neglects of your Saviour. 
 Let conscience do its office, and its upbraiding voice 
 be heard, "What .meanest thou, sinful soul, to 
 slumber in sin?" — "Awake, thou that sleepest, and 
 rise from the dead, and Christ shall give thee light." 
 If you are now unprepared, and the ordinary minis- 
 
THE CHRISTIAN FALLING ASLEEP. 91 
 
 trations of the gospel have to this hour failed to rouse 
 you, let the vacant seat in the sanctuary make its ap- 
 peal. Let the quiet death-bed scene of one whose 
 face so lately beamed with health lead you to contem- 
 plate the difference between the righteous and the 
 wicked. Catch the vision of one who said: "I saw 
 the dwellings of the blest. They glided on, hushing 
 as they went. Yet further under the sun, at the 
 roots of purple mountains, I noted a blaze of glory as 
 night-fires on northern skies ; and I heard the hum of 
 joy as it were a sea of melody ; and far as the eye 
 could reach were millions of happy creatures basking 
 in the golden light; and I knew that land was heaven. 
 When the hill whereon I stood split asunder, and a 
 crater yawned at my feet, black, and deep, and dread- 
 ful, fenced round with ragged rocks ; dimly was the 
 darkness lit up by spires of distant flame: And I saw 
 below, a moving mass of life, like reptiles bred in 
 corruption, where all was terrible unrest, and shrieks, 
 and groans, and thunder!" 
 
 Alas ! poor sinner, when wilt tliou be wise ? Death 
 calls. He will soon call for tliee^ either as an angel 
 of peace, or as a grim executioner : — 
 
 "His time there's none can tell ; 
 He'll in a moment call thee hence, 
 To heaven or to hell.'^ 
 
SERMON V. 
 
 CONCEALED RELIGION. 
 
 But Peter followed iiim afar off, unto the high-priest's 
 palace, and went in, and sat with the servants, to see the 
 END. — Matthew xxvi. 58. 
 
 It is not an easy thing for any person to occupy, 
 for a considerable time together, a position between 
 two contending parties. If both parties be in the 
 wrong, on a subject in which you feel a deep interest, 
 and you desire to maintain a strict neutrality, you 
 will find it difficult to do so, because there will com- 
 monly be such appeals made to your feelings as will 
 destroy the balance of impartiality. If, however, 
 moral principles be clearly involved, moral principles 
 that are diametrically opposite to one another, it is 
 impossible to maintain neutral ground, with respect 
 to them, for a single moment. The reason is obvious. 
 There is no neutral ground between right and wrong. 
 A moral being always occupies either a right or a wrong 
 position in regard to a moral question which has been 
 pressed upon the attention. Yet there are times and 
 
CONCEALED RELIGION. 93 
 
 crises in our history when ahuost every one is tempted 
 to make the vain endeavor to be neutral. 
 
 Amid the tragic scenes of our Saviour's arrest and 
 trial, and execution, occurred many and various de- 
 velopments of character. In the first alarm, all the 
 disciples forsook their Master, and fled. The pious 
 females who had been warmly attached to our 
 Saviour's ministry, with a fortitude characteristic of 
 their sex in times of trial, followed him, everywhere, 
 as open, undisguised friends, and stood by his cross 
 bewailing his mortal agonies. Two of the disciples, 
 Peter and John, recovered from their first paroxysm 
 of alarm, and followed with anxious solicitude their 
 captive Master. But though they acted together, 
 in this respect, they were in widely different states of 
 mind, states tending to very different results. John 
 was a man of a calm and sweet spirit. He was the 
 disciple whom Jesus loved. A tender a3"ection for 
 Christ led him to follow him to the judgment-hall, 
 and to Calvary. He attempted no concealment, and, 
 by his urbanity and his gentleness, and his acquaint- 
 ance with the high-priest, who probably knew him as 
 an amiable man, he passed on unmolested, a pitying 
 spectator of the whole scene. Peter, on the other hand, 
 though a sincere friend of Christ, was a bold, rash man, 
 and apt to engage in a course of conduct without well 
 considering what would be the ultimate consequences. 
 In his earnestness, he resolved that he would not, like 
 others, utterly abandon the Saviour. Yet as he had 
 cut off" the servant's ear, and made himself prominent 
 
94 SERMON V. 
 
 on other occasions, he saw that he might he involved 
 in trouble if his true position were understood. He 
 determined, therefore, upon attempting to be prudent. 
 He will not jeopard everything for Christ, by being 
 found too near to his sacred person, so he follows him 
 afar off. When mingling with the enemies of our 
 Lord, he will not hazard a discovery of his relation 
 to the prisoner, by remaining among those who are 
 active and prominent in the awful scene ; so he sits 
 down with an air of affected indifference, with the 
 servants, and seems to be employed in warming him- 
 self by the fire. The result of this experiment you 
 all know. Peter is tempted to deny his Master. After 
 the denial is once made, he is led to repeat it with 
 base and profane imprecations. With this experi- 
 ment of concealed religion before us, I invite your 
 attention to 
 
 TJie influence of concealment in respect to one's 
 religious character and relations. 
 
 That the subject may be practically and profitably 
 applied, let me place before you as clearly as possible 
 
 I. What may be properly regarded as conceal- 
 ment IN RESPECT TO ONE'S RELIGIOUS CHARACTER AND 
 
 relations. 
 
 A clear distinction may be made between conceal- 
 ment and a modest diffidence and unobtrusiveness. 
 The publican, who stood afar off and smote upon his 
 breast, and cried, "God be merciful to me, a sinner," 
 was modest and unobtrusive, but he was as far from 
 
CONCEALED KELIGION. 95 
 
 practising any concealment as was the Pharisee who 
 gave to himself such a boastful prominence. When 
 Zaccheus came down from the tree at the Saviour's 
 bidding, and received him joyfully, and promised, in 
 the presence of the multitude, to make restitution for 
 all unjust gains, his conduct was as free as possible 
 from everything like an indecorous and proud obtru- 
 siveness. Indeed, his frank and beautiful behavior 
 contrasts delightfully with the conduct of Nicodemus, 
 that Master in Israel, who went, we must use a low 
 word for the want of any other to convey the idea, 
 who went sneakingly under the cover of night to hold 
 a conversation with our Saviour. So when the be- 
 loved disciple went boldly and calmly in to the 
 high-priest's palace, and followed his Master to Cal- 
 vary, and stood by his cross, and received from his 
 dying lips the charge to protect and sustain the be- 
 reaved mother of Christ, he was equally as unobtru- 
 sive and modest as Peter was when he was slinking 
 away in the distance, or stealthily creeping into the 
 palace, and retiringly sitting down with the servants 
 before the fire. 
 
 When one acts openly because his duty calls, he 
 cannot be properly charged with a want of modesty 
 and humility, and self-distrust. But when one shrinks 
 from appearing openly as the friend of those good 
 principles and persons for whom he means to cherish 
 a secret regard, he is guilty of practising a conceal- 
 ment which is alike unworthy in itself and disastrous 
 in its influence. But let us contemplate 
 
96 SERMON V. 
 
 II. The means by which such a concealment 
 
 EXERTS AN UNHAPPY INFLUENCE. 
 
 1. It takes away self-respect. It is not to be denied 
 that there are secrecies belonging to all subjects of a 
 ■warm affection. The soul that is united to Christ, 
 with the confidence of an affianced bride, possesses 
 many bosom thoughts that are entrusted to no other 
 ear save that of her Redeemer and best friend. But 
 she does not, on that account, feel it to be allowable to 
 conceal her attachment on those occasions when there 
 is a public taking of sides for or against the Saviour. 
 When the good Simeon took the infant Jesus in his 
 arms, he said to Mary, his mother, "Behold, this child 
 is set for the fall and rising again of many, and for a 
 sign which shall be spoken against." So it has always 
 been. Some have openly gloried in his cross, others 
 have scorned his claims as the Son of God. 
 
 Our Lord has established a public social ordinance, 
 in which those who participate acknowledge their 
 dependence upon the sacrifice of his body and blood 
 for eternal life. If one attempt to practise conceal- 
 ment, and to stand afar off while some own and others 
 deny him, he cannot but feel an impairment of his 
 self-respect. If remorse of conscience only were pro- 
 duced it would be an unhappy influence. But there 
 is mingled with the conviction of wrong a conviction 
 of dishonor. The man that cherishes in his heart the 
 secret hope that he is a friend of Christ, and yet does 
 not avow it by his conversation and his open conduct, 
 exerts a peculiar influence upon his own character. 
 
CONCEALED RELIGION. 97 
 
 He feels an Interest in the things of Christ. He fol- 
 lows afar off. He retires and sits down away from 
 those that express themselves warmly on either side, 
 and then he bethinks himself of his position. He 
 always knew that he was a sinner, but now, he seems 
 to himself to be guilty of an unmanly timidity. He 
 fears that there is a cherished hypocrisy in his cha- 
 racter. He endeavors to resist the impression, and 
 says, ''No, I am really friendly to Christ. I love him 
 and confide in him, but I do not avow myself and fol- 
 low him openly through good report and evil report, 
 because if I once take such a position I must maintain 
 it.'' Then, again, the reflection will arise; but, if I 
 am unwilling to maintain such a position, am I not 
 acting a double part? No, I decline a public and 
 open acknowledgment of attachment to my Saviour, 
 because so many of his professed followers are incon- 
 sistent in their professions. Yet, if a great many of 
 my professed friends had proved treacherous, I should 
 desire that those who are really sincere would be the 
 more frank and prompt in acting openly in my be- 
 half. 
 
 Thus convicted of insincerity, a man naturally feels 
 that he will not be materially worse if he openly deny 
 his Saviour; and hence, he is prepared to disown him. 
 When the act has been performed, he naturally con- 
 soles himself with the reflection that, if he is more 
 glaringly wicked, he is less chargeable with a mean 
 and degrading insincerity. In this manner, the love 
 of consistency and self-respect furnishes a premium for 
 9 
 
98 SERMON V. 
 
 denying the Saviour. A man feels that he is acting 
 consistently with himself when he lays aside all pre- 
 tence of being secretly influenced by better principles 
 than he dares openly to avow. 
 
 2. Concealment, in respect to one's religious charac- 
 ter and relations, takes aiuay the influence of friends 
 who entertain and express kindred sentiments. We 
 are so constituted that the approbation of our fellow- 
 men is a powerful incitement to action. The warrior 
 moves calmly up to the imminent deadly breach, be- 
 cause he fancies that his countrymen are beholding, 
 and that a thousand applauding voices are ready to 
 exclaim, "Well done, brave soldier, and self-sacrificing 
 patriot." We never think, in such a case, that the 
 patriotism is not genuine, because the sentiment is 
 stimulated by the approbation of all the friends and 
 admirers of that virtue. On the contrary, the man 
 has proved himself a true lover of his country by 
 seeking the rewards of patriotic virtue, and by pur- 
 posely surrounding himself with incitements to its 
 hiixhest exercise. So, when a man has chosen Christ 
 as his commander, and has openly laid aside every- 
 thing inconsistent with such a purpose, that '' He 
 may please him who has chosen him to be a soldier," 
 he purposely surrounds himself with the friends of 
 the Redeemer, avows his design of meeting, in the 
 open field, every assault, and of boldly endeavoring 
 to conquer temptation in the name of Christ. 
 
 The deserved confidence of the people of God is a 
 high and holy object of desire. And since the 
 
CONCEALED RELIGION. 99 
 
 strenfrtli of our attachment to a virtue is measured 
 bj the earnestness "with which we bring around our- 
 selves the motives for its practice, it is obvious that 
 an undisOTised frankness in res^ard to our relio-ious 
 character and relations brings to us this twofold ad- 
 vantage. Fii'st, the exercise of the principles of holi- 
 ness by a manly and open assertion of them enhances 
 their vigor. Secondly, the circle of faithful friends 
 of holiness that are thus brought to stand around the 
 soul with approving eyes, and cheering voices, to 
 commend every successful struggle for the right, 
 affords one of the most efficient motives for steadfast- 
 ness in well-doing. But the moment that a man 
 attempts to practice concealment, he loses both of 
 these advantages. His principles are relaxed by de- 
 clining such an action as the crisis demanded, and 
 the incitements of human approbation are removed. 
 When Peter followed afar off, and when he sat down 
 w'ith the servants, waiting to see the end before he 
 should commit himself, his principles of attachment 
 to Christ became languid. Then, too, when he more 
 needed, than ever before, the encouragements of the 
 avowed friends of his tried principles, he had separated 
 himself from all such influences. If he had stood close 
 by the calm and heroic John, and watched for an en- 
 couraging look, ever and anon, from his patient Mas- 
 ter, he might have risen above that miserable craven 
 fear which led to the denial. Persons, of the slightest 
 degree of physical courage, have met a martyr's doom 
 with firmness in preference to disowning their Sa- 
 
100 SERMON V. 
 
 viour, when the friends of Christ, with whom they 
 have been openly associated, have bid them to re- 
 member their good confession before many witnesses. 
 But when one places himself alone, or where he 
 fancies himself alone, by his concealment, he takes 
 away one of the strongest incitements to fidelity in 
 a time of trial. 
 
 3. Concealment in respect to ones religious charac- 
 ter and relations increases the poioer of intimidation 
 in a mans spiritual enemies. This it does in two 
 ways. It renders the subject more susceptible to in- 
 timidation while the cause remains the same ; and it 
 augments the amount of intimidating influence. If 
 Peter had acted manfully — if he had followed in the 
 crowd close by his Master, without any thought of 
 concealment, what possible eff*ect would have been 
 produced by a servant-maid's saying, ^'Surely thou 
 art one of them?" Had Peter been moving forward 
 then, with an open, manly ardor, such a speech had 
 not been heard at all when coming from such a 
 source ; or, if heard, it would have been looked on as 
 one of those petty assaults which a roused and earn- 
 est spirit regards as of too little consequence to com- 
 mand the least attention. But, as it is, the attempt 
 at concealment has unmanned a bold heart, and 
 caused a spirit of great native energy to quail and 
 prevaricate, and utter falsehood, to meet the scofling 
 inquiry of a little girl. 
 
 The susceptibility to intimidation is greatly aug- 
 mented by the attitude of cowardly concealment. 
 
CONCEALED RELIGION. 101 
 
 Thus, have we often seen those who make private in- 
 timations of a cherished devotion to religion, when 
 thrown into a mixed company, take special pains to 
 make it understood that they were not open professors 
 of godliness. A word of reproach, upon their Saviour 
 or his disciples, is enough to lead them to deny him 
 before men. This conduct is often shaped with a 
 wonderful adroitness and skill. The man declares 
 that he is a friend of Christianity, that he thinks well 
 of its influence upon public morals, and speaks in tones 
 of commendation of certain ministers of the gospel, 
 and of Christian institutions, but if he see a suspicion 
 rising that he may be a spiritual believer, he is careful 
 to make the impression that he is not, by denying, as 
 he can do with truth, that he is a professor of religion. 
 But, besides this susceptibility to intimidation, con- 
 cealment augments the intimidating influences. It 
 does not appear that a word was said to John respect- 
 ing his being one of the disciples. There is a com- 
 manding dignity in a courageous deportment. But 
 cowardice always awakens contempt, and, at the same 
 time, inspires weak antagonists with courage. If a 
 man but evince fear of wild animals, those which have 
 but little native fierceness will be incited to attack 
 him, and, if a man take the attitude, in a mixed com- 
 munity, of one who would be the friend of Christ, and 
 who is yet afraid to be openly so, attempts will be 
 made to draw him aside which would not be thought 
 of if he were an avowed disciple of the Lord Jesus 
 Christ. 
 
 9* 
 
102 SERMON V. 
 
 4. Concealment prepares the mind for open de- 
 nial, because it is the same thing in p)rincip)le. There 
 are no means by ■vvliicli men are so effectually deceived 
 and prepared for a wicked and dishonorable action as 
 by alloAving the governing principle of such an action 
 first to gain strength through a passive indulgence. 
 Let one suppress the truth, in certain portions of a 
 relation of facts -where he was plainly bound to narrate 
 the w^iole, and he will easily learn to discolor actual 
 facts, and to utter palpable falsehoods. Let a man 
 neglect to meet his pecuniary engagements. Em- 
 barrassment is his apology, but if he do not chasten 
 himself by making great sacrifices and securing to his 
 creditor such remuneration for the wrong as shall 
 make himself the chief loser, then he will inure him- 
 self to that insensibility to the rights of others which 
 prepares him for every species of fraudulent and 
 knavish transactions. The man that indulges himself 
 in making those representations of facts which create 
 a false impression by neglecting certain material parts 
 of the truth, is prepared to utter falsehood, because he 
 has already cherished and cultivated the habit of de- 
 ceiving. Now, precisely analogous to this relation 
 which the suppressing of truth has to the uttering of 
 falsehood, is the relation of the concealment of one's 
 religious principles to the actual denial of them. 
 Peter had, in spirit, denied his Master, when he pur- 
 posely slunk away in the distance, and tardily came 
 in and sat doAvn to see the end before he should take 
 any open action. Jlis concealment had just such a 
 
CONCEALED RELIGION. 108 
 
 relation to his denial, as a genuine faith has to a public 
 profession of love to Christ. Here is a man who has 
 received the gospel into a good and honest heart. 
 When the occasion arrives which demands an open ex- 
 pression, that expression is made, for " out of the 
 abundance of the heart the mouth speaketh." He con- 
 fesses Christ before men. But he only makes a more 
 extended declaration of what he had said before bj his 
 prayers, and conversation, and changed demeanor. 
 Behold the exact counterpart of this. Here is a man, 
 Peter, who in his heart is shrinking from the responsi- 
 bility of being the friend of Christ. The crisis arrives 
 which demands an open profession. He makes it. He 
 declares, " I know not the man." Thus it is that a 
 concealment of one's religious character and relations 
 exerts a disastrous influence by taking away self-re- 
 spect, by removing the encouragement of approving 
 friends, by augmenting the influences of intimidation, 
 and by secretly cherishing the very sentiments which 
 are openly professed in a disowning of Christ as a 
 Saviour and friend. From these views we may easily 
 discover, 
 
 1. Why our Saviour laid so miicJi stress on confess- 
 ing him before men. "Whosoever," says he, "shall 
 confess me before men, him will I confess also before my 
 Father Avhich is in heaven. But, whosoever shall deny 
 me before men, him will I also deny before my Father 
 which is in heaven. ' ' In another place, when speaking 
 of suff'ering persecution for his sake, he says, " He that 
 taketh not his cross and followeth after me, is not 
 
104 SERMON V. 
 
 •worthy of me." And then, as if the question whether 
 a man should lose his life as a consequence of this 
 open action were of no importance compared with the 
 momentous interests affected by an open confession, 
 he adds, " lie that findeth his life shall lose it, and he 
 that loseth his life for my sake shall find it." Our 
 Saviour well knew that right principles could not be 
 maintained in the absence of all open expressions and 
 manifestations of them ; that concealment destroys 
 the self-respect of one who secretly pretends to be his 
 friend. He knew that it took away the salutary en- 
 couragement found in the approbation of • the pious, 
 that it increased the power of intimidation, and, that it 
 involved the very principle expressed in an open denial 
 of him. Hence, he desired men to count the cost of 
 discipleship, and not to flatter themselves with the 
 least hope that they should be owned as his disciples 
 at last, unless they could willingly encounter all the 
 difficulties connected with an open avowal, on all 
 suitable occasions, of attachment to Christ; unless 
 they could own him not only, but also glory in his 
 cross. 
 
 You will inquire, then, if I mean to maintain that 
 a connection with the visible church is essential to 
 salvation. By no means. On the contrary, we make 
 probable evidence that the soul is in a state of salva- 
 tion, a prerequisite to admission to the visible church. 
 That is to say, if we do not judge that God has re- 
 ceived the applicant by a spiritual adoption, we do 
 not admit him to the ordinances of the church. 
 
CONCEALED RELIGION. 105 
 
 Certainly, then, if a man apparently converted, sud- 
 denly decease without an opportunity to become con- 
 nected with the visible church, the fact that he is not 
 a member of the visible church furnishes no presump- 
 tion against his salvation. Nor will a delay from any 
 physical difficulties, such as sickness or distance from 
 a community of professed Christians, create a pre- 
 sumption against him. We go farther, and say, if he 
 entertain mental difficulties arising from early preju- 
 dices or nervous depression, his neglecting to unite 
 with the church furnishes no strong presumption 
 against his piety, unless he hesitates, by other methods, 
 to bear an open testimony of love to Christ. I have 
 two cases in mind, that came to my knowledge some 
 years since, with which I will illustrate these excep- 
 tions. One was a gentleman of a highly cultivated 
 mind and great influence in the city of his residence. 
 He had received his early education among the society 
 of Friends. From that source he had derived a tena- 
 cious prejudice against the ordinances of baptism and 
 the Lord's supper. He was hopefully converted to 
 God. So thought his pious acquaintances, and so he 
 himself thought. But, though he did not confess 
 Christ in that peculiar manner, by publicly and 
 formally covenanting with the people of God, and 
 sitting down with them at the Lord's table, yet he 
 practised no concealment. His reason for inaction 
 in that method was found in scruples of conscience, 
 arising from a defective education. But he did act 
 in other things so undisguisedly in behalf of Christ 
 
lOG SERMON V. 
 
 and his cause, that the whole coramimitj thought of 
 him as a professor of religion. lie was accustomed 
 liumbly to kneel at the family altar, and offer prayer 
 to God. His voice was heard in supplication at the 
 meeting for social prayer, and both Christians and 
 unbelievers concurred in the approval of his warm 
 and earnest exhortations addressed to his friends and 
 fellow-citizens to persuade them to become reconciled 
 to God. If anything was to be done by wise asso- 
 ciated endeavor to repress vice or to advance piety, 
 he was among the first to act, and that, too, whether 
 such action was likely to bring upon himself honor or 
 obloquy. Such a man cannot be said to be practising 
 concealment, or to be guilty of doing anything which 
 in principle involves a denial of Christ before men. 
 The other case to which I referred, was that of a dear 
 friend, now I trust in heaven. He had an overwhelming 
 sense of his sinfulness. A morbid apprehension that 
 he might become guilty of the body and blood of the 
 Lord prevented his union with the visible church for 
 many years. He listened to evangelical instruction 
 with great delight. He offered the morning and 
 evening sacrifice in his family, and often have I seen 
 him rise up in a meeting for prayer and religious con- 
 ference, and exhort the youth of the parish to make 
 their peace with God. I recollect one occasion, in par- 
 ticular, on which he adverted to the apparent incon- 
 sistency of a man of his years, whom they had all 
 known from their childhood, exhorting them to come 
 to their Saviour, while he himself was not a member 
 
CONCEALED RELIGION. 107 
 
 of the visible church. *'Be it so," said he; "grant 
 that I am inconsistent in that particular, yet I 
 beg of you, my young friends, to consider that your 
 souls are riot the less valuable on that account, nor is 
 the blessed Saviour less worthy of your love." Now 
 let it be admitted that such an one was a Christian, 
 and I have no doubt of it, yet, though a Christian 
 without literally belonging to the church, he was not a 
 Christian practising concealment in respect to his 
 religious character and relations. He did not refuse 
 to own Christ before men. On the contrary, he 
 witnessed a good confession. Thus it is doubtless a 
 fact that there are true Christians who are not, at 
 the present moment, professing Christ before men in 
 one specific and important method of doing so, 
 namely, by a visible union with the church. Yet, we 
 have no reason to think that those are Christians who 
 refuse to take up the cross in any way, and who do 
 not with undisguised frankness avow themselves the 
 friends of their Redeemer. There are persons that 
 seem desirous of knowing to how great an extent they 
 can avoid committing themselves before the world as 
 spiritual Christians, and yet be in a state of accept- 
 ance with God. If I were to answer such an inquiry, 
 I would say, just as long as Peter could sit with the 
 enemies of his Master, virtually pretending to be an 
 indifi'erent spectator, without involving himself in all 
 the essential guilt of the denial. That is, not one 
 moment. The slightest analysis of such a desire 
 
108 SERMON V. 
 
 shows it to be at war with that sincerity which is in- 
 dispensable to the lowest degree of Christian virtue. 
 
 2. TJie subject suggests the importance of an im- 
 mediate enti'auce upon all active duties hy those who 
 think to maintain a Christian life. Activity in the 
 cause of Christ is the highest kind of profession. We 
 are more anxious that our conduct should be consistent 
 with former actions than that it should be consistent 
 with the mere expressions of our lips. AYe know that 
 '' actions speak louder than words." If one of you 
 were to perform some act that implied a denial of your 
 Saviour, it would mortify you more deeply to know 
 that some observer were contrasting this conduct with 
 your having prayed in public, and with your having 
 exhorted him to make his peace with God the day 
 previous, than it would to reflect that it disagreed 
 with certain engagements formally entered into. 
 There is no pledge to future obedience to God that 
 can operate with such power as that which is implied 
 in a course of manly Christian action. 
 
 3. A Cliristian is never in greater danger than 
 when tempted to conceal his religious character and 
 relations. Let me advise you. Christians, whenever 
 you change your residence, take your place at once 
 among the people of God. If you stay but a few 
 weeks even among strangers, make yourself responsi- 
 ble in some way to Christians, and to those with whom 
 you associate, for your religious behavior. And, if 
 you stay long, connect yourself visibly with the people 
 of God. 
 
CONCEALED RELIGION. 109 
 
 4. In conclusion, let me say that perfect frank- 
 ness and openness are indispensable to success in 
 seeking salvation. Surely, if a Christian must suffer 
 as Peter did for practising concealment, then an un- 
 converted sinner can never find salvation while pursu- 
 ing such a course. No, my friend, your hope of going 
 to heaven unseen, as if by a subterranean passage, is 
 a vain hope. You cannot, by such endeavors, rise 
 any higher than you now are. You must be willing 
 that your pious friends, your pastor, your enemies, 
 even, should know that you are seeking salvation. 
 You must be willing, if needs be, that the wicked 
 should scoff at, and persecute you. You must be 
 willing to take Christ for your Master, and to follow 
 him through good report and evil report, to own him 
 openly as your Saviour. You must assume the truth 
 of his declaration : " Whosoever confesseth me before 
 men, him will I also confess before my Father who is 
 in heaven." 
 
 10 
 
SERMON VI. 
 
 THE GREAT SALVATION. 
 
 HOW SHALL ATE ESCAPE, IF WE NEGLECT SO GREAT SALVATION? 
 
 Ileb. VII. 3. 
 
 This text suggests at once three important thoughts, 
 each one of which may be profitably made the ground 
 of a separate discourse. First, we may consider the 
 greatness of the Christian salvation. Secondly, the 
 impossibility of escaping the severest doom, except 
 by means of this salvation. And thirdly, the reason- 
 ableness and propriety of God's leaving men to perish 
 for the mere neglect of the gospel. 
 
 At this time your attention is solicited to the first 
 of these themes. 
 
 I. The greatness of the Christian salvation. 
 
 The magnitude of an object may be indicated by a 
 variety of means. If it be the production of an ele- 
 vated mind, the length of time employed in accom- 
 plishing it, the various agencies of subordinate coad- 
 jutors, the power and influence of the prime actor in 
 the achievement, the conservation of other great 
 interests as subsidiary to the work, the nature of the 
 work itself as involving great power, the struggle with 
 
THE GREAT SALVATION. 1 1 1 
 
 antagonist influences, the benefits of the enterprise to 
 individuals, and the numbers that share its blessings, 
 are all indications of its greatness, its true importance. 
 There can be no doubt, if we acknowledge the sacred 
 Scriptures as authority, that the scheme of salvation 
 began to be developed immediately after the fall of 
 man. Then it was promised that " the seed of the 
 woman should bruise the head of the serpent." That 
 is, to divest the thought of its figurative costume, an 
 incarnate Redeemer should come, and should gain a 
 complete conquest over the powers of evil in our world. 
 The coming of this Saviour, the work of his mediation, 
 as far as it was performed between the time of his 
 coming to earth in the person of Jesus of Nazareth, 
 till he ascended and sat down again upon his throne 
 in the heavens, and the scheme of grace connected 
 with his mission, and the result, constitute the great 
 salvation referred to in the text. 
 
 Now, observe the labor and the time employed 
 in preparing the way for the coming o£ Christ. A 
 course of instruction was commenced with the early 
 patriarchs. A system of family religion was esta- 
 blished. Institutions were founded. The State arose, 
 with its legislation and its magistracy. A church 
 was constituted, with its order of service, its sacred 
 liturgy, its priesthood and its symbols prefiguring the 
 Lamb of God, who should take away the sins of the 
 world. This church was preserved and carried through 
 the most astonishing changes for a period of full four 
 thousand years. The most stupendous judgments 
 
112 SERMON vr. 
 
 were inflicted on the world as a means of preserving 
 the race, and of protecting the church and preparing 
 mankind for the reception of the Messiah. 
 
 When the population of the globe had become 
 numerous, many suppose far more so than it has ever 
 since been, a single family was shielded by a Divine 
 interposition, and the entire population of the world 
 besides destroyed by a flood. Then, the work of ad- 
 vancing the race, and preparing for the advent of the 
 Messiah was begun anew in the family of Noah. 
 Corruption and idolatry again became ascendant. 
 Abraham was called. This father of the faithful was 
 begirt by a peculiar Divine protection. He and his 
 posterity received repeated direct communications 
 from heaven. God " rebuked kings for their sake, 
 saying : Touch not mine anointed, and do my pro- 
 phets no harm." By a remarkable judgment, the 
 cities of the plain were destroyed, and righteous Lot 
 was delivered. This served, as we are taught in the 
 Epistle of Jude, as a specimen of the nature of the 
 Divine government in delivering the righteous and 
 overthrowing the wicked. Then, by a singular train 
 of providences, the church went into Egypt. While 
 there, the ascendency of Joseph, with his influence, to 
 protect his people in the midst of a great nation, was 
 a beautiful type of the coming of the Messiah and of 
 the influence of his mediation in behalf of his people. 
 The church sank into a state of civil bondage, under 
 which it groaned for nearly four centuries. Then 
 Moses was raised up as a deliverer. Signal miracles 
 
THE GREAT SALVATION. 113 
 
 were again employed to deliver the people of God 
 and overthrow the wicked. Thence arose the song 
 of Moses at the passage of the Red Sea, giving a 
 still deeper tone to the sentiment of the church, in 
 her reception of the truth that God is a God of mercy 
 and of judgment. 
 
 Indeed, all the signal deliverances of the people of 
 God seem to have been intended to deepen and extend 
 this impression. The salvation of Noah, and the 
 destruction of the old world ; the exodus of Israel 
 from Egypt, and the death of the first-born ; the 
 passage of the Red Sea, and the overthrow of Pharaoh 
 and his hosts ; the triumphs of Joshua, and the crush- 
 ing of idolatrous tribes ; the deliverances by the 
 judges; the subjugation of the land by David, and 
 the subsequent recoveries from captivity, seem to 
 have been intended to make this one impression, that 
 God will deliver his people and destroy his enemies. 
 
 Another grand conception, as preparing the way 
 for the coming of the Messiah, was dependence upon 
 a single distinguished deliverer. This thought was 
 generated in the mind of the church, and rendered 
 familiar by a succession of individuals achieving the 
 deliverance of the church, and thus gradually pre- 
 paring the human mind for one great deliverer in 
 the Messiah. Such were Moses and Joshua, and the 
 Judges, and David, and the distinguished reformers 
 that recovered Israel from the captivities. 
 
 Then, there was a system of sacrificial offerings of 
 innocent victims, prefiguring the Lamb of God, and 
 
 10* 
 
114 SERMON VI. 
 
 an interceding high-priest, and an entrance into 
 
 the most holy place, symbolizing the intercession of 
 the Redeemer. In addition to this, there were types 
 of the Saviour's universal conquest in the influence 
 of the ascendency of Joseph, and of the pacific and 
 wide dominion of Solomon. To complete the whole 
 of this preparatory influence, a class of prophets was 
 raised up, the influence of whom was a sort of embryo 
 evangelism, and synagogues were brought into exist- 
 ence, with their readers of the law and their elders, as 
 embryo Christian churches. Now, let me ask you to 
 glance at a brief summary of what was done, and the 
 means by which it was accomplished. To prepare 
 the way of the Lord, for announcing distinctly and 
 clearly the great salvation, five principal ends were 
 attained. 
 
 1. A distinct and deep impression was created, in 
 respect to the great primary truth that lies at the 
 basis of all government, that God was a God of mercy 
 and judgment. This end was secured by actual 
 deliverances, and judgments of a signal character. 
 The deliverance of Noah, and the destruction of the 
 old world; the deliverance of Lot, and the destruction 
 of Sodom and Gomorrah; the exodus of Israel, and 
 the slaying of the first-born ; the passage of the Ked 
 Sea, and the overthrow of Pharaoh; the conquest 
 of Joshua ; the successive deliverances by the Judges, 
 and the subjugation of the land in the reign of David; 
 these great movements, interspersed with providences 
 of a diff"ercnt character, and extending through more 
 
THE GREAT SALVATION. 115 
 
 than twenty centuries, acted on the human mind as 
 a series of chemical or philosophical experiments in- 
 fluence us, when they place before us a single great 
 truth, in concrete forms and interesting varieties. 
 
 2. The idea of a single great deliverer was ren- 
 dered familiar. Moses, Joshua, successive judges, 
 and David, as signal instances, created an impression 
 so distinct and deep, that not only the Jews expected 
 a deliverer, but even heathen philosophers were 
 speculating upon the probability of God's sending 
 some one great reformer that should change the moral 
 state of mankind. Such an one was even confidently 
 expected, waited for ; Christ was the desire of all 
 nations. 
 
 3. The idea of a sacrificial ofi"ering, and the eifectual 
 intercessions of another on our behalf, was implanted 
 and strengthened in the minds of men. Lambs and 
 bullocks, turtle-doves, and young pigeons, were sacri- 
 ficed. Altars, smoking daily with the blood of inno- 
 cent victims, burnt-off'erings, and the entrance of 
 priests into the holy place — all these imposing sym- 
 bols, accompanied with the declaration that without 
 shedding of blood there was no remission, were 
 maintained with more or less fulness from the time 
 of Abel's offering till " Christ our passover [was] 
 slain for us," and our great High-Priest passed into 
 the holy place above, to intercede for his people. 
 
 4. The completeness of our Saviour's ultimate con- 
 quest was impressed on the minds of his people by the 
 
116 SERMON VI. 
 
 influence, the perfect ascendency, of Joseph and of 
 Solomon. 
 
 5. The evangelism of the later prophets, and the 
 establishment of the synagogue, gave the finishing 
 stroke in the preparation for the appearance of the 
 Messiah. Surely, that is a great salvation which is 
 ushered into the world with such grand preparations. 
 If a monarch were coming to perform some great 
 enterprise ; if he had been long preparing the way for 
 his advent ; if he were preceded by a resistless force 
 in glittering armor, extending thousands of miles ; if 
 an equal army of scholars followed them, and a still 
 longer line of statesmen and princes succeeded, and 
 this great procession were fortyyears in passing before 
 you, though you had not yet seen the king himself, 
 nor even his chariot, or his immediate attendants, you 
 could not fail to regard such precursors as indications 
 of the magnificence of the work for which all this was 
 a mere preparation. The precursors of Christ, in his 
 great salvation, are immeasurably more imposing and 
 grand. They are deliverances and judgments ; a 
 train of successive conquerors; monarchs that have 
 exercised the most pacific and happy supremacy; 
 prophets, speaking of his kingdom as if its history 
 were already written. This procession, extending 
 through a period of four thousand years, and in all 
 its length sprinkled with the blood of innocent victims, 
 proclaims the grandeur of the Messiah's mission ; the 
 greatness of the Christian salvation. 
 
 II. The agency of subordinate coadjutors is another 
 
THE GREAT SALVATION. 117 
 
 striking indication of the greatness of the salvation 
 of the gospel. I do not here refer to the instrumen- 
 tality of legislators, conquerors, poets and reformers 
 among men, nor to the subsidizing of the powers of 
 nature in ushering in or aiding the progress of the 
 kingdom of Christ. These have just been presented 
 in a different connection. I refer rather to angelic 
 agency. While we possess no minute and detailed 
 information respecting the mode in which angels act 
 in the work of redemption, we are distinctly informed 
 that they take a deep and earnest interest in the 
 salvation of the gospel. In one place, the apostle 
 Peter intimates that the scheme surpasses their com- 
 prehension. " Which things," says he, " the angels 
 desire to look into.'' These holy beings possess 
 capacities and powers far beyond what is attributed to 
 them by those cursory and careless readers who have 
 not felt an interest in pondering upon those glimpses 
 of their character which we incidentally catch in the 
 word of God. Angels were originally superior to men. 
 I infer this from the words of the Psalmist, where he 
 says of man: ''Thou madest him a little lower than 
 the angels." This cannot mean less than an intima- 
 tion that the feeblest of the holy angels is superior to 
 the highest of the human race. But there are superior 
 angels, archangels, great in strength. As Milton says, 
 in the characteristic stateliness of his prose composi- 
 tion : " The angels themselves, as the apostle that saw 
 them in his rapture describes, are distinguished and 
 quaternioned into the celestial princedoms and sa- 
 
118 SERMON VI. 
 
 trapies, according as God himself has writ his imperial 
 decrees, through the great provinces of heaven." 
 Such being their original superiority, and the period 
 of their existence being indefinitely long, we cannot re- 
 sist the impression that they are beings of vast power. 
 Some of them, we are sure, were in being previously 
 to the creation of the world, and they may have ex- 
 isted for many thousand centuries before. The great- 
 est works ascribed to them in the Scriptures seem to 
 have been performed with the utmost ease. 
 
 I cite but a single instance, out of many that might 
 be selected. It is that of the angel of the Lord, 
 going out and slaying, in a single night, a hundred 
 and eighty-five thousand men in the camp of the As- 
 syrians, mentioned in 2 Kings xix. 35. The particular 
 to which I wish to call your attention, is this. His 
 dreadful dealing out of death was not like a slaughter 
 produced by the superiority of an antagonistic force. 
 It was a single stroke, performing the work with such 
 a silent power that the effect was not perceived, by 
 survivors, till the following morning. I am aware 
 that it may be said that the phrase, angel of the Lord, 
 may be employed here figuratively, to represent some 
 sudden and fatal disease. Still, the borrowing of the 
 word angel to represent such a power is an intimation 
 that angelic agency possesses a greatness correspond- 
 ing with this effect. That I may fix upon your minds 
 a distinct impression of the greatness of the effect, and 
 of the ease witli which it was produced, let me recite 
 
THE GREAT SALVATION. 119 
 
 to you a graphic description of it, from one of the most 
 brilliant poets in the language. 
 
 " The angel of death spread his wings on the blast, 
 And breathed in the face of the foe as he passed ; 
 And the eyes of the sleepers waxed deadly and chill, 
 And their hearts but once heaved, and forever grew still. 
 
 " And there lay the steed with his nostril all wide, 
 But through it there rolled not the breath of his pride ; 
 And the foam of his gasping lay white on the turf, 
 And cold as the spray of the rock-beating surf. 
 
 ** And there lay the rider distorted and pale, 
 With the dew on his brow and the rust on his mail ; 
 And the tents were all silent, the banners alone. 
 The lances unlifted, the trumpets unblown. 
 
 *' And the widows of Ashur are loud in their wail, 
 And the idols are broke in the temple of Baal ; 
 And the might of the gentile unsmote by the sword, 
 Hath melted like snow in the breath of the Lord.^' . 
 
 There is one other instance of angelic greatness 
 mentioned in the apocalypse, in respect to which I 
 make a passing remark. His appearance was one of 
 such majesty and glory that the apostle John, who, 
 we must believe, had elevated conceptions of the Deity, 
 mistook him for God himself, and fell at his feet to 
 worship him. The angel forbade him, assuring him 
 that he was only a fellow-servant. 
 
 These glorious beings are represented as existing 
 in vast numbers, and as exercising an important 
 agency in ushering in and promoting the Christian 
 salvation. The law was given through their instru- 
 
120 SERMON VI. 
 
 mentality. Thus it is said, in the Acts of the Apos- 
 tles, that the Jews had received the law by the dispo- 
 sition of angels. According to Calvin, Beza, and, 
 indeed, all the best commentators, this means that 
 angels were the instruments in giving the law at 
 Mount Sinai. In Ps. Ixviii. 17, it is said : " The cha- 
 riots of the Lord are twenty thousand, even thousands 
 of angels : the Lord is among " them as at Sinai, 
 in the holy place." Moses, in referring to the same 
 event says : " The Lord came from Sinai and rose up 
 from Seir unto them: He shined forth from Mount 
 Paran, and he came with ten thousands of saints 
 (that is, angels); from his right hand went a fiery 
 law for them." Angels often appeared to the patri- 
 archs and prophets ; they instructed Daniel andJohn 
 in their prophetical communications. They came 
 down in a multitude and celebrated, by an anthem of 
 praise, the birth of the Messiah. They were with 
 him in his temptation. An angel strengthened him 
 in the prayer of agony preceding his crucifixion. 
 An angel rolled the stone from the door of the sepul- 
 chre and told the disciples of the resurrection of Christ. 
 An angel brought Peter from prison, dissolving the 
 fetters of iron and opening the prison doors. So 
 deep and universal is their sympathy in the work of 
 man's salvation, that it is represented by describing 
 them as thrilled with joy when a single sinner is con- 
 verted. They shall also take part in the final judg- 
 ment. Christ shall then be seated on his glorious 
 throne, and all his holy angels with him. That must 
 
THE GREAT SALVATION. 121 
 
 be a great salvation, which enlists the energies of 
 such beings in such numbers, and through such a 
 period of time. 
 
 III. The greatness of the salvation of the gospel is 
 indicated by the character and work of Christ. Our 
 Saviour speaks of his pre-existent state in the most 
 extraordinary manner. He does not attempt any proof 
 of his former existence, but he assumes it in the most 
 familiar manner, speaking of the glory which he had 
 with the Father before the world was, and of the Son 
 of Man's ascending up where he was before, as truths 
 of an undeniable character, and to be received on his 
 veracity. The apostle Paul also speaks of Christ as 
 the Creator of all things. " By him (says he) were all 
 things created that are in heaven and that are in earth, 
 visible and invisible, whether they be thrones or 
 dominions, or principalities, or powers — all things 
 were created by him and for him." This power of 
 the Son of God has been concentrated on the work 
 of redemption. He became incarnate to promote it. 
 He wrought his stupendous miracles for the same 
 end. His earnestness was manifested in his teach- 
 ings, his sufferings, his death. In all the Sa- 
 viour's work, of creating and governing physically 
 the universe, there is no appearance of any struggle 
 of earnest endeavor. The work of creation, as far 
 as we can judge, was performed with infinite ease. 
 The physical universe is upheld without effort. But 
 the work of redemption costs a sacrifice on the part 
 of the same Being; he condescended, he became 
 11 
 
122 SERMON VI. 
 
 subordinate, obedient unto death. That must be a 
 great work which called forth the energies of such a 
 Being for its accomplishment. 
 
 IV. It is an indication of the greatness of the salva- 
 tion of the gospel that the world itself is preserved for 
 the sake of accomplishing its objects. In the second 
 epistle of Peter, that apostle adverts to the destruction 
 of the old world by a flood, and then informs us that 
 the same heavens and earth which now are, are reserved 
 unto fire against the day of judgment and perdition 
 of ungodly men. He then intimates that the delay 
 of this judgment is to be accounted for simply on this 
 ground, that God is not willing that any should perish, 
 but that all should come to repentance. That is to 
 say, the earth itself is preserved that the great salva- 
 tion may be carried out in its glorious results. Is 
 not that a great movement, a magnificent enterprise, 
 for which the earth itself is kept in being? 
 
 V. The greatness of the Christian salvation is 
 further indicated by the value of the benefits which it 
 confers on every human being who becomes the object 
 of its saving power. These benefits are often pre- 
 sented to you in the preaching of the gospel. They 
 scarcely require to be mentioned, were it not for the 
 fact that our very familiarity with them demands of 
 us that we pause for a moment and dwell upon their 
 overwhelming import. The Christian salvation de- 
 livers the soul from sin — recovers it from a habit of 
 transgression in which it must sink in eternal degra- 
 dation unless it be reclaimed and sanctified by the 
 
THE GREAT SALVATION. 123 
 
 gospel. In the place of being left to such a degraded 
 state, it is brought to a state of perfect and eternal 
 purity ; every power is exalted, every affection is 
 ennobled: and the entire character restored to the 
 perfect moral image of God. The gospel saves the 
 soul from unutterable and eternal torment. I need 
 not dwell upon it. You know the fearful imagery, 
 the fire, the remorse, the prison, the companionship, 
 and the wailing and gnashing of teeth by which the 
 unhappy state of the lost is represented. From all 
 this the gospel saves the soul, and places it in a con- 
 dition fitly represented by a residence in a city paved 
 with gold, by rivers of pleasure and transporting 
 songs of praise, and an uninterrupted companionship 
 with saints and angels and Christ himself, and im- 
 mortal joys. That is a great salvation which can 
 deliver men from such evil, and raise them to such 
 blessedness. 
 
 VI. I mention but one more indication of the 
 greatness of the Christian salvation. The extent of 
 this salvation in the subjugation of the world to Christ 
 and in the largeness of the numbers saved. Christ, 
 we are told, was manifested to destroy the works of 
 the devil ; and in many ways, we are taught, that his 
 conquest over the world shall be complete. It will 
 silence the clarion of war, by its pacific influence. It 
 will melt the sword of the magistrate, and unbar the 
 door of the prison. It will change the cottage of 
 squalid poverty into an ample and cleanly mansion, 
 and the rags of beggary into garments of fine linen 
 
124 SERMON VI. 
 
 and scarlet. It will place the lowest stratum of so- 
 ciety on the same platform of refinement and charac- 
 ter which the highest now occupies. It will make 
 holiness universal, and crowd the whole earth with 
 teeming millions of happy population. You would 
 think a scheme of earthly ambition a great one which 
 should be of such a nature, planned with such wisdom 
 and executed with such vigor as to bring every earthly 
 monarch in chains to grace the triumph of the con- 
 queror. You would say it was great, if it thus sub- 
 jected all the earth to one political head. But Christ 
 shall cause every monarch on earth to follow his trium- 
 phal chariot, and that without chains. He will 
 subdue without degrading — subjugate to exalt: he will 
 divest princes of their crowns only by giving richer 
 ones, alike to them and each one of their subjects. 
 He will rule the world by the simple power of charity. 
 Y^ou may listen to such statements now with a smile 
 of incredulity. Y^et principles are at work which are 
 with the utmost certainty leading to these results. 
 The knowledge of the Lord shall cover the earth as 
 the waters cover the sea. Where darkness covered the 
 earth, and gross darkness the people, there the light of 
 the moon shall be as the light of the sun, and the light 
 of the sun shall be seven-fold, as the light of seven 
 days. Then, who can estimate the number that will 
 be ultimately reached, blessed, and eternally saved 
 by the gospel ? It will be a great multitude which 
 no man can number. When they shall all stand on 
 the heavenly hills with harp and song, when the 
 
THE GREAT SALVATION. 125 
 
 shouts of the ransomed shall rise as the sound of 
 many waters, and all this blessedness shall be seen as 
 the result of the Saviour's mission, then it will be 
 acknowledged that this is a great salvation. I close 
 with a single reflection. How vast and solemn the 
 responsibility of those who enjoy the institutions of 
 the gospel. This salvation, my friends, is a magni- 
 ficent system of grace, intended to promote the present 
 and eternal well-being of each one of you. Shall four 
 thousand years of judgment and mercy be employed 
 to usher in the full announcement of it, and can you 
 with impunity neglect it? Shall a succession of great 
 deliverers be raised up to prepare the way for the 
 great Deliverer, and will you refuse to be rescued by 
 his grace ? Shall victims bleed daily for forty centu- 
 ries to familiarize the human mind to the idea of an 
 expiation by an innocent victim, and you decline to 
 avail yourself of an atoning sacrifice made by the Son 
 of God ? Shall myriads of holy angels manifest an 
 interest in a scheme of redemption not intended for 
 them, but for you, and you yourself neglect it ? Shall 
 the Son of God come down from his glorious throne, 
 and work stupendous miracles, and teach heavenly 
 doctrines, and bleed and die for you, and the rocks be 
 rent, and the earth quake from sympathy with him, 
 and you, bought with his blood, feel no sympathy, no 
 interest in his scheme of mercy ? Shall this salvation 
 ransom men from the power of sin, rescue them from 
 eternal death, and exalt them to heaven, and you, the 
 very object of its regard, slight it ? Shall it conflict 
 
 11* 
 
126 SERMON VI. 
 
 TN'ith the antagonist powers of darkness, and go on 
 from conquering to conquer, till a world sits at the 
 Saviour's feet clothed and in its right mind, and will 
 you, in the very midst of the conflict, allow yourself 
 to be so occupied with trifles as to be unaware of the 
 glorious movement ? Shall a great multitude of our 
 lost race, a multitude which no man can number, enter 
 the heavenly Jerusalem, with songs and crowns of eter- 
 nal glory, and you be cast out, because you luould not 
 think of the things that belong to your peace? I 
 conjure you to meditate upon the position which you 
 occupy. If the scheme is too large for your faith, 
 God will not belittle it, to please you. Your views 
 must be enlarged to meet it. If its results are too 
 glorious for your unused vision, he will not dim its 
 brightness for your accommodation. As soon would 
 he veil the sun, and diminish his benign influences, to 
 suit it to the disordered organs of an individual. You 
 must seek instruction ; anoint your eyes with eye- 
 salve, that you may see. If you think that the plan 
 of salvation ought to be a compulsory scheme, making 
 its blessings to possess the nature of a necessity, and 
 rendering misery impossible, yet God will not divest 
 his government of the freedom and voluntariness that 
 belongs to it, to suit himself to your metaphysical 
 difiiculties and objections. You can have no excuse 
 for living in the neglect of this grer.t salvation. Your 
 position, in respect to it, is very different from those 
 who lived during the preparatory period, before the 
 coming of the Messiah. Thev saw onlv the morning 
 
THE GREAT SALVATION. 127 
 
 star, or the early dawn. You bask in the broad sun- 
 light. Christ has been exhibited as the Lamb of God. 
 His bleeding sacrifice has made such an appeal as was 
 never known before his advent. His profound, wise^ 
 sweet instructions have a claim upon you, such as the 
 law and the prophets never exhibited. His resurrec- 
 tion and ascension have introduced a new and won= 
 derfully attractive interest. His Holy Spirit has been 
 sent to speak to your heart. He will come to judg- 
 ment. You shall stand before him. Beware, then^ 
 beware how you treat this great salvation. 
 
SEEMON VII. 
 
 THE GREAT SALVATION — THE ESCAPE. 
 
 MOW SHALL WE ESCAPE, IF AVE NEGLECT SO GREAT SALVATION? 
 
 Heb. II. 3. 
 
 In addressing you from this text on a former oc- 
 casion, I invited your attention to the greatness of 
 the Christian salvation. Let me now offer some sug- 
 gestions in relation to the impossibility of escaping a 
 fearful doom, except by carefully availing ourselves 
 of the advantages of this great schem.e of mercy and 
 grace. 
 
 By a system of beautiful analogies, those great 
 principles that come into action in securing our ever- 
 lasting well-being, are continually exercised in rela- 
 tion to our ordinary daily interests. We are familiar 
 with the idea of danger, because we are constantly 
 exposed to it. Our fears are addressed daily. "We 
 lose property, friends, reputation, and health. Our 
 very life is in constant jeopardy. These dangers often 
 exist unseen. Sometimes they are suddenly revealed 
 because immediately impending. Sometimes the}'' are 
 made to appear with a fearful clearness, though lying 
 yet far in the future. By a simihir influence of sur- 
 
THE GREAT SALVATION. 129 
 
 rouncling circumstances, "we are made familiar with 
 the idea of escape. Sometimes we see no escape from 
 an impending evih We are apt, however, in such a 
 case, to look back upon the past, and to indulge in 
 vain regrets that we had not earlier taken wise pre- 
 cautions, and avoided what, by our neglect, has be- 
 come inevitable. How wisely has God thus prepared 
 us to understand what is meant by the soul's being 
 in danger ; a method of escape, and the possibility of 
 so neglecting the means of escape as to render our 
 final doom inevitable. As preliminary to a practical 
 consideration of this subject, let us dwell for a few 
 moments, on the nature and reality of the danger 
 referred to in the text. If you have fled to Christ 
 for refuge, you are safe. He is a covert from the 
 storm. But if you have not fled to Christ, you are 
 in danger. You are in danger of becoming confirmed 
 in the habit of sin, and of rejecting the gospel until 
 you are totally insensible to its claims. You are in 
 danger of imbibing such feelings in relation to the 
 Christian salvation that its claims shall become more 
 and more repulsive to you. You are in danger of 
 being abandoned by the Holy Spirit, and of being 
 given over to a reprobate mind. You are in danger 
 of dying suddenly in your sins. You are in danger 
 of going to the judgment-seat of Christ unpardoned 
 and guilty; of standing there, like the man who had 
 not on the wedding garment, speechless. You are in 
 danger of losing your soul. These dangers are as 
 real as the danger of losing property, reputation. 
 
130 SERMON vir. 
 
 friends, health, and life. Some of them you have 
 experienced. You have actually lost moral sensibility, 
 susceptibility of being impressed by the gospel. 
 Perhaps you have lost the habit of prayer, and of 
 serious contemplation of your spiritual interests. 
 You may have less solicitude for your salvation than 
 formerly. Why may not the danger of losing the 
 soul be real? Do you say you cannot make it seem 
 so ? There is a similar difficulty in making the 
 danger of a premature death seem real. Y^et, if you 
 ^ill reflect on it, the difficulty may be in a great 
 measure removed. Reflect on the frailty of your body, 
 the influence of disease on it ; the fact that the great 
 proportion of the race are dying prematurely. Think 
 of the disease of your father or mother, of the brother 
 whose eyes you closed. Survey the monuments of 
 death. Let your mind take time to ponder these in- 
 teresting and solemn realities, and you will feel a 
 growing assurance of your own mortality, and that 
 there is a reality in your exposure to death. So, if 
 you will think of it ; if you will read the teachings 
 of Christ with respect to men's dying in their sins, 
 with respect to the worth of the soul ; and ponder his 
 solemn inquiry. What shall it profit a man if he shall 
 gain the whole world and lose his own soul, you will 
 perceive the reality of your danger. Equally fami- 
 liar are we, with the idea of escape. There is 
 scarcely one of all our earthly interests, the ruin of 
 which has not at some time seemed inevitable. 
 When the possessions of men are preserved to them, 
 
THE GREAT SALVATION. 131 
 
 there have been seasons in which many have, for a 
 time, seen nothing but bankruptcy before them. 
 They have been delivered from ruin by a mere escape. 
 What hair-breadth escapes can almost every man who 
 has a good character relate in respect to its preservation. 
 What temptations beset you in youth ! How many 
 of your companions fell under them. It is amazing 
 to any man of good moral character, who has arrived 
 at the age of fifty, to look back and reckon up his 
 acquaintances that have made shipwreck of character, 
 and sunk in infamy and ruin. Then, you can see 
 special temptations from which you were delivered, and 
 many a man of good character, is overwhelmed when 
 he thinks how he was carried round and round on the 
 wdiirlpool of dissipation, and yet escaped being drawn 
 down into the engulphing flood. There are few, of an 
 advanced age, or even in middle life, that cannot look 
 back to tlie most narrow and surprising escapes from 
 death. The idea of escape is thus rendered familiar, 
 and God has made use of this idea in revealing a 
 method of deliverance from the fearful dangers to 
 which the soul is exposed. But the text plainly in- 
 timates that the great salvation is a sure method of 
 escape. So our Saviour has taught us elsewhere. 
 He has represented himself as being the friend of 
 sinners. He has evinced that friendship, by making 
 the greatest sacrifice on their behalf. He came to our 
 world from love to men. He befriended the most lowly 
 and the most guilty. He forgave every sincere peni- 
 tent, relieved every miserable suppliant for his favor. 
 
132 SERMON VII. 
 
 He was accessible to all classes, and he assures us 
 
 that whosoever comes to him, he will in nowise cast 
 
 out. He invites the weary and heavy laden to come 
 
 to him, and promises rest to all such. Whosoever 
 
 will confide in him as their friend and Saviour, he 
 
 assures us shall not perish but receive everlasting life. 
 
 Now it is in full view of these assumed truths, that 
 
 the inquiry of the text is pressed upon us. It is as 
 
 if the apostle had said : " So much I assume." We 
 
 are in danger ; in danger of losing everlasting life, 
 
 of sinking down into eternal death. If we are ever 
 
 saved, it will be by a mere escape from this terrific 
 
 jeopardy. Yet there is a system of grace provided, 
 
 a system most ample and free. A system such that 
 
 no man can be lost who will properly avail himself of 
 
 it. But suppose you neglect it, of what possible 
 
 advantage will it be to you ? Is it of any use that 
 
 rich stores of provisions are brought to you while in 
 
 a state of starvation, if you will not eat of them ? 
 
 Suppose the most nutritious viands are profi'ered to 
 
 you in a kind and even tempting manner. They are 
 
 brought to you in a service of silver, presented by the 
 
 hand of friendship, and accompanied with tones of 
 
 love, saying : "Eat, friends, drink, beloved." Yet 
 
 if you ivill not partake of them, their adaptation to 
 
 your necessities, and the kindness with which they 
 
 are profi'ered, will be of no avail. Now the provisions 
 
 of salvation, through Christ, are made. They are 
 
 ample ; they are free. But what if you neglect them ? 
 
THE GREAT SALVATION. 133 
 
 Where is any other refuge ? What other ground have 
 you for expecting that you shall escape at last? 
 
 Can you hope to escajje on the ground of your good 
 qualities P Remember that the Divine law requires 
 perfect holiness. It is as plainly unsatisfied in its 
 demand if one-half of your actions are holy and one- 
 half sinful, as it would be if they were all sinful. It 
 no more demands holiness at one moment, than it 
 demands it for every other moment of your existence. 
 If you sin at all, therefore, you fall under its curse. 
 But, besides this, you ought to remember that sin 
 cuts you off from spiritual communion with God, and 
 without that spiritual communion your sin is per- 
 petuated, and you are left to a sinful unspiritual state 
 of mind. Let me ask you, then, are you not con- 
 scious of living without God in the world ; of deriving 
 your happiness from the things that are seen and 
 temporal, rather than from communion with your 
 heavenly Father? Do you not know, with an intui- 
 tive certainty, that you are a miserable sinner ? How, 
 then, can you expect to escape on the ground of the 
 excellency of your character? Is your character 
 purer and better before God, than was that of the 
 apostle Paul? Yet he would glory only in the cross 
 of Christ, and hoped to stand before God in peace 
 because we have forgiveness through the blood of 
 Christ, and counted himself totally unworthy of the 
 Divine favor. The saints in heaven are represented 
 as clothed in garments purified and made white in the 
 blood of the Lamb. They sing praises to him who 
 12 
 
134 SERMON Yll, 
 
 redeemed them to God, and cast their crowns at the 
 feet of the Redeemer, as signifying that they are in- 
 debted to him for them. Do you seriously think that 
 you can escape the doom of the lost, without wearing 
 the same blood-washed robes, and joining in the same 
 song, and casting down your crown in token of 
 acknowledgment of your dependence on Christ. The 
 most pious and devout Christians have often doubted, 
 notwithstanding their attainments in Christian virtue, 
 whether they should find acceptance with God; and 
 indeed we are plainly taught that the righteous are 
 scarcely saved. Can you hope, then, that, by the 
 superiority of your character, you can escape the 
 doom of the lost? 
 
 Can you liope to escape by the cultivation of the 
 sentiments of natural religion? There is something 
 in our nature that may be termed the religious pro- 
 pensity. Just as we are constituted for the exercise 
 of domestic affections, such as parental and filial love, 
 and as we are constituted to exercise emotions of 
 taste, when we look out upon the beauties of the 
 physical world, so we are constituted to venerate, to 
 worship, a superior being. Many have been led to 
 suppose from this circumstance that all men are 
 religious by nature, in the only sense in which any 
 one is religious, and that the difference that exists in 
 religious character depends upon the development 
 and cultivation of this propensity. Hence we often 
 meet with the most complacent remarks made by 
 worldly men in respect to the emotions they have 
 
THE GREAT SALVATION. 135 
 
 experienced when visiting ancient cathedrals and 
 witnessing religious ceremonies performed with a 
 grand and imposing magnificence. And hence, too, 
 the prevailing belief that those who worship heathen 
 gods are accepted as possessing true religious senti- 
 ments. But let us inquire — may not the religious 
 propensity be perverted ? May not a man give the 
 glory that belongs to God to graven images ? May 
 he not bow down to vile reptiles, as did the Egyptians, 
 and be degraded just in proportion to the degree of 
 his worship, and the cultivation of this perverted 
 propensity? May he not regard a wafer as con- 
 taining a mysterious power, and bow before it and 
 substitute the mutterings of a puerile superstition in 
 the place of an intelligent and affectionate and re- 
 verent address to the true God in his revealed char- 
 acter through the mediation of the Lord Jesus? Or 
 may he not, even, put a reverent behavior in the 
 sanctuary in the place of the spirit of adoption, and 
 endeavor to substitute this reverence for a sincere 
 and unshaken purpose to do the will of his heavenly 
 Father? The demand made upon us in the sacred 
 Scriptures is a demand for a new quality of religion, 
 and not an increased quantity of natural religious 
 sentiment. God requires not merely that we should 
 worship, but that we should worship him^ and that 
 we should worship him in his true character — in 
 spirit and in truth. Let me make this point plain, 
 if possible. There is scarcely anything, in my opin- 
 ion, in which men of a worldly spirit more readily 
 
136 SERMON VII. 
 
 deceive themselves, than in placing a false estimate 
 upon what is sometimes called religious sentiment. I 
 cite as an instance of this the opening stanza of Pope's 
 universal prayer. Observe the language : — 
 
 "Father of all, in every age, 
 In every clime adored, 
 By saint, by savage, or by sage, 
 Jehovah, Jove, or Lord/' 
 
 The prominent idea of this verse is simply this — 
 "worship is rendered to God acceptably by men of all 
 different characters of religion. God is worshipped 
 by saints with the most enlightened views — by savages 
 under the forms of heathen idolatry, and by philoso- 
 phers in the study of his works. It is intimated 
 that they all mean substantially the same thing, and 
 render to God a service which he will accept because 
 it is characterized by devout sentiments. The mis- 
 take is an extremely gross one, and the ground of it 
 very obvious. Virtue does not consist in the exercise 
 of any propensity, but in its being cherished in its 
 proper relations. There is a propensity in our nature 
 which leads to filial affection and deference. If a 
 child exercises that propensity in a proper manner 
 towards a good parent, he is a dutiful child; but if he 
 allow himself to be led away from a good father, in 
 the bestowment of that affection upon a vicious old 
 man who promises him sinful indulgence, his affection 
 towards this Avicked and unprincipled substitute is not 
 filial virtue. So if the same propensity which was 
 intended to awaken exalted sentiments of homage 
 
THE GREAT SALVATION. 137 
 
 towards the Supreme Being be directed towards 
 another being, or towards God in name, with a char- 
 acter radically different from that which he has re- 
 vealed to us, there is plainly no true piety in such an 
 exercise. If that connubial love which hallows the 
 matrimonial relation, be directed away from its 
 proper object and fixed upon another, although the 
 propensity is the same, this allowed vagrancy becomes 
 a crime. Hence the inspired writers refer to this 
 very idea as a means of exemplifying the sinfulness of 
 a wrongly directed exercise of the religious sentiment. 
 They represent God as having espoused his church, 
 and censure her defection, her going after idols, as the 
 grossest conjugal infidelity. And hence also the 
 apostle James refers to this very imagery to reprove 
 the guilt of misdirected spiritual affections. His 
 language of rebuke is strong: "Ye adulterers and 
 adulteresses, know ye not that the friendship of the 
 world is enmity with God. Whosoever, therefore, will 
 be the friend of the world is the enemy of God." 
 According to these views, the love and worship of 
 Jove are not an acceptable service to the Father of 
 all. On the contrary, a misdirected devotion, like a 
 misdirected filial or connubial affection is vile in pro- 
 portion to its intensity. No cultivation of the senti- 
 ments of natural religion, then, can prepare you for 
 communion with the true God, or secure your escape 
 from the most dreadful inflictions of his displeasure. 
 Can you hope to escape hy some other provision of 
 mercy if you neglect the great salvation revealed in the 
 
 12* 
 
138 SERMON VII. 
 
 gospel. The testimony of the Sacred Scriptures is 
 very full and explicit on this point. Our Saviour says : 
 "If ye believe not that I am he," that is, if you do not 
 receive me as the true Messiah, "ye shall die in your 
 sins, and whither I go ye cannot come." It is clearly 
 taught in this passage, that those who neglect the 
 salvation provided in the gospel shall die in a guilty 
 and unpardoned state, and that such shall never enter 
 heaven. There is a class of persons spoken of in 
 another place, of whom it is said that they shall never 
 have forgiveness, neither in this world nor in that 
 which is to come. How certainly are such cut off 
 from the hope of heaven ! In the Acts of the Apostles 
 we are told that Peter said to the Jews, in speaking 
 of Christ : "Neither is there salvation in any other: 
 for there is no other name under heaven given among 
 men whereby we must be saved." Here it is plainly 
 asserted that salvation cannot be found except in Jesus 
 Christ. If that salvation be neglected, therefore, 
 there is left no ground of hope. There is no escape, 
 if we neglect this great salvation. In our text, there 
 is a comparison instituted between the effect of violat- 
 ing the law and neglecting the gospel. In the pre- 
 ceding context, it is said: " The word spoken by angels 
 (that is the law published at Sinai) was steadfast, and 
 every transgression and disobedience received a just 
 recompense of reward." Then the text is introduced 
 as an argument a fortiori: " How shall we escape, if 
 we neglect so great salvation; which at the first 
 began to be spoken by the Lord, and w^as confirmed 
 
THE GREAT SALVATION. 139 
 
 unto US by them that heard him.'' The force of the 
 argument is this: The transgressors of the law were 
 signally punished. Escape was impossible. But this 
 salvation imposes higher obligations than the law. 
 The law was announced by angels, the gospel was pro- 
 claimed by the Lord from heaven. The law could be 
 repaired, and was repaired by the atoning sacrifice of 
 Christ. But, when the remedy for deliverance from 
 the penalty of a violated law is despised, neglected, 
 there can be no escape. A similar argument, founded 
 on this very comparison, is adduced in the 12th chapter 
 of the same epistle. "See that ye refuse not him 
 that speaketh ; for if they escaped not who refused him 
 that spake on earth, much more shall not we escape 
 if we turn away from him that speaketh from heaven." 
 In Heb. x. 26-29, we have a still stronger and clearer 
 expression of the same truth. Let me recite to you 
 the whole passage. " For if we sin wilfully after that 
 we have received the knowledge of the truth, there re- 
 maineth no more sacrifice for sins;" that is to say, there 
 will be no new provision made ; " there remaineth no 
 more sacrifice for sins, but a certain fearful looking 
 for of judgment and fiery indignation, which shall de- 
 vour the adversaries. He that despised Moses' law, 
 died without mercy under two or three witnesses : of 
 how much sorer punishment, suppose ye, shall he be 
 thought worthy, who hath trodden under foot the Son 
 of God, and hath counted the blood of the covenant, 
 wherewith he was sanctified, an unholy thing, and hath 
 done despite unto the spirit of grace ?" Yes, my im- 
 
140 SERMON VII. 
 
 penitent friend, the gospel is the one only remedy. 
 You cannot escape an awful doom if you neglect the 
 gospel. The goodness of your character will not pro- 
 tect you. It is madness to hope for it. The most 
 pious Christians on earth have never dared rest their 
 hopes on their personal goodness. The cultivation of 
 the religious sentiment will not save you. There will 
 be no other provision made. Accept the proffered 
 grace of Christ. '' He that helieveth shall be saved, 
 but he that belie veth not shall be damned." 
 
SEEMON YIII. 
 
 THE GREAT SALVATION — NEGLECT. 
 
 HOW SHALL WE ESCAPE, IF WE NEGLECT SO GREAT SALVATION. 
 
 Eeh. II. 3. 
 
 In two discourses previously delivered on this text, 
 I have discussed the greatness of the Christian salva- 
 tion, and the impossibility of escaping a fearful doom 
 except by a careful attention to the provisions of mercy 
 and grace in the gospel. One other topic remains, 
 the just consequences of neglect. 
 
 We are not called upon to prove that crime ought 
 to be punished. Human nature is so constituted that 
 no man can avoid the conviction that it is right to 
 follow some kinds of action with an infliction of suf- 
 fering. If one should call in question this principle, 
 it is only necessary that prowling assassins should 
 put his dearest friend's and his own life in jeopardy, or 
 that the midnight robber should filch from him his 
 estate, and he will immediately become the advocate 
 of retributive justice. It is very natural that men 
 should see and feel the propriety of penal inflictions 
 in proportion as crimes are striking, and, in their 
 immediate consequences nearly related to theif indi- 
 
142 SERMON VIII. 
 
 vidual interests. Yet, it often happens that a less 
 striking injury is greatest in character, and really 
 most deserving of punishnient. If a burglar enter 
 your counting-house by false keys, and purloin a thou- 
 sand dollars, you have a keen sense of his ill desert. 
 If a gentleman corrupt the moral principles of your 
 son by leading him into fashionable vice, you are not 
 Apt to feel that that same gentleman has inflicted upon 
 you the deeper wrong. The injury is less striking in 
 the manner of its visitation. In the case of this cor- 
 rupter of youth, no civil law is violated, no sudden 
 infraction of the rules of courtesy is made. The evil 
 steals upon you by little and little. Your censures 
 do not rest on the tempter alone, as in the case of the 
 burglar. They are distributed among several persons. 
 You justly blame your son for yielding to the tempta- 
 tion, and yourself for not having more firmly esta- 
 blished him in the principles of virtue, or for a too 
 negligent guardianship over him. In this distribution 
 of blame you are likely to take lenient views of the 
 very serpent that came into your paradise and de- 
 stroyed it. Yet there is no wrong ever inflicted on a 
 family that will compare with corrupting its mem- 
 bers. 
 
 Some sins are also under-estimated, just because they 
 do not appear in an overt act upon which the mind 
 can fasten and fix its censure. Such is that whole 
 class of moral delinquencies which consists in omissions 
 of duty. If a man neglect to arouse the energies of 
 his being and employ them in a useful occupation, he 
 
THE GREAT SALVATION. 143 
 
 may seem to do nothing wrong, yet God has treated 
 such conduct as highly criminal, and has ordained that 
 he that dealeth with a slack hand shall be punished 
 with the ills of poverty, and that he that sleepeth in 
 harvest shall be accounted as a son that causeth shame. 
 All real good is the product of labor. In creation, 
 and in the operation of what are termed the laws of 
 nature, God is continually putting forth his energies. 
 Our Saviour came to earth to perform a work ; a great 
 work of suffering and toil ; a work in which his holy 
 energies wrought vigorously, till it was accomplished. 
 "My Father," says he, "worketh hitherto, and I 
 work." All things are full of labor. The productions 
 of the earth are by the throes and throbbings of nature. 
 Redemption is wrought out by the energies of one 
 travailing in the greatness of his strength, mighty to 
 save. The regeneration of the soul, is by the inener- 
 gizing work of the Holy Spirit, and the means of 
 grace are produced by the sympathies of the church 
 with her Head, by which her members are workers 
 together with him. All the beneficence in the uni- 
 verse is by action, and hence God has established a 
 universal law that activity must be encouraged, and 
 that any interest may be lost by simple neglect. 
 Thus, in our text, the Apostle has intimated that the 
 salvation of the soul may be lost by mere negligence. 
 
 My object shall be to evince the reasonable- 
 ness OF THIS arrangement, TO SHOW YOU THAT IT IS 
 RIGHT, THAT IT IS ACCORDING TO OBVIOUS AND ADMIT- 
 
144 SERMON VIII. 
 
 TED PRINCIPLES, THAT MEN SHOULD BE LOST IF THEY 
 NEGLECT THE GREAT SALVATION OP THE GOSPEL. 
 
 No blessing can be of great value unless it be 
 highly estimated. It must be looked upon by the 
 mind as a treasure, or cherished with a fond affection 
 ere it can minister enjoyment. But the estimate of 
 a blessing depends greatly on a perception of the 
 necessity of exertion to attain it. The first thing to be 
 done for achieving any practical end is the securing of 
 attention to its real importance. Earnest endeavor 
 is always preceded by a perception of the real or sup- 
 posed reason for exertion. The incipiency of every 
 important undertaking, therefore, is attention to the 
 subject. Hence, if you would secure any great effort 
 on the part of others you always begin with solicit- 
 ing their attention. If the interest be truly import- 
 ant you are confident of success only in proportion 
 as you can awaken thought. On the other hand, if 
 you would thwart any great movement, no other 
 means are so effectual as the diversion of the minds 
 of the principal agents from the subject, the lulling 
 of the powers of attention to indolent repose. 
 
 This law of our nature, by which attention is neces- 
 sary to success, and according to which neglect 
 secures defeat, is universal. No interest is too great 
 to be governed by it, none too minute to be subject 
 to it. If you will but have a honeysuckle twine it- 
 self over your window, and display its graces to your 
 eye, and breathe into your chamber its fragrance, you 
 must think of it. You must dwell upon the degree 
 
THE GREAT SALVATION. ' 145 
 
 of pleasure which it will afford, and upon the means 
 of securing it. If you will accumulate an ample estate, 
 your mind must be awakened in some degree to the 
 advantages of affluence. You must see your comfort- 
 able mansion rising in prospect, your abundant sup- 
 plies for coming want, your elegant gratifications of 
 taste, your lavish hospitalities, or generous acts of 
 beneficence, or your enjoyment of the consequence 
 which wealth will give you in the estimation of the 
 world. Some, or all of these desired advantages 
 must be looked upon, and then you must perceive how 
 it is that eating the bread of carefulness and employ- 
 ing the hand of diligence will secure worldly fortune. 
 Thoughtfulness in this larger interest has precisely 
 the same relation to success as it has in securing the 
 lesser advantage referred to in the vine to be trained 
 up to your window, and neglect will be in each case 
 alike fatal to the interest in question. 
 
 The most important and the smallest self-culture 
 are subject to the same law. If you will attain the 
 comparatively small accomplishment of an elegant 
 chirography, you must think of the advantages that 
 accrue from it. You must feel the gratification of 
 taste or perceive its influence in awakening the admi- 
 ration of others, or its connection with general im- 
 provement. So, also, if you will fill your mind with 
 ancient lore, and make it opulent in stores of science 
 and various learning, your powers must be summoned 
 to attend to the subject, and in both cases alike, in 
 13 
 
1±6 SERMON VIIL 
 
 the smaller and the larger interest, a negligent inat- 
 tention is the sure precursor of failure. 
 
 This arrangement operates as a constant encourage- 
 ment to mental activity. Why should it not bear upon 
 the highest possible interest ? Why should not thought 
 and attention be as needful to the largest, as to the 
 minutest desirable objects ? Add another, then, to 
 the physical objects just presented. The fragrant 
 vine can afford you real pleasure; the affluent estate 
 "with its elegant mansion, and full supplies, and means 
 of hospitality and beneficence, can afford more rich 
 and varied and permanent gratification; the heavenly 
 mansions in the midst of a city ^vith golden pavements 
 and trees of unfading verdure, a mansion in which 
 you shall entertain angelic companions, and through 
 the halls of which entrancing song shall flow, can 
 afford still higher and purer, and more enduring enjoy- 
 ment. Can any good reason be shown why these 
 should not all alike demand attention — why they 
 should not all alike be liable to be lost by neglect ? 
 If each of the first two is a premium to mental 
 activity, why should not the latter be so too ? The 
 fact that an ample fortune affords greater and more 
 lasting good than the fragrant vine is no reason why 
 the larger and more enduring blessing should not de- 
 pend on thought and attention, and be equally liable 
 to be lost by neglect. The greater superiority and 
 endurance of the heavenly treasures suggest no reason 
 why they too should not demand thought and be ex- 
 posed to loss from the same cause, from neglect. 
 
THE GREAT SALVATION. 147 
 
 We can see no reason why man's moral agency should 
 not be commensurate with his being, and have respect 
 to all conceivable blessings, great and small, tempo- 
 rary and eternal. 
 
 By parity of reasoning it is manifest that the 
 mind's attention is alike necessary to the attainment 
 of subjective good, whether it be of higher or lower 
 degree, of briefer or more enduring continuance. You 
 must give some thought to attain the smallest personal 
 accomplishment. You cannot acquire a graceful pen- 
 manship without first giving it importance in your 
 mind's estimate. You cannot become an accomplished 
 artist, and place the productions of your pencil, or 
 your chisel, by the side of those of the great masters, 
 without first securing, in your own mind, a high esti- 
 mation of the value of the attainment. You cannot, 
 without attention, ever be led to dive into profound 
 authors and bring up the pearls of literature, or to 
 make bold incursions upon the realms of nature, and 
 come back like a successful warrior laden with the 
 spoils of ravished provinces. You must first summon 
 your powers to think of the importance of such achieve- 
 ments. Indeed, the greater the mental accomplish- 
 ment which you seek the more earnest is the attention 
 which it demands. Now, what reason drawn from 
 earth or heaven can be shown, why those higher 
 qualities of our spiritual being, such as love to God 
 and hearts attuned to his praise, and affections that 
 ally one to holy beings forever, should not, also, de- 
 mand attention, and be liable to be lost by neglect ? 
 Let these interests, rising one above another in ira- 
 
148 SERMON VIII. 
 
 portance, be <arranged in order, as we just now pre- 
 sented them as objects of desire. Here is a small per- 
 sonal accomplishment, an elegant chirograph j ; a larger 
 one, extraordinary attainment in the higher walks 
 of art, and in liberal learning; a still larger, the ac- 
 quisition of those qualities and relations which may 
 be attained through a mediator, and which clothe the 
 soul in robes of eternal honor. Can any reason be 
 shown why attention should not be demanded alike 
 for all three of these interests ? Why they should 
 not all alike be liable to be lost by neglect ? The 
 larger interests of general learning do not less require 
 attention than the attainment of an inferior art. 
 Neglect of the greater is as sure a precursor of failure 
 as neglect of the less. The same principle is only 
 carried out when men lose their eternal well-being by 
 neglecting to secure the spiritual qualities that are 
 inseparable from it. 
 
 But if the attainment of good is justly made to de- 
 pend on the arousing of the attention, on a quickening 
 of the mental energies, to perceive its value, not less 
 does it depend on continuous endeavor. You must 
 think of that fragrant vine not only, you must also 
 exercise a care about its planting, its nutriment, and 
 its training. 
 
 Continuous labor is necessary both to the well de- 
 veloping of the object and the fitting of your own 
 mind to derive pleasure from it. It is true, that all 
 agreeable objects afford some degree of delight, as 
 affording the first stimulus of endeavor either in their 
 
THE GREAT SALVATION. 149 
 
 production or in augmenting hj culture our own sus- 
 ceptibilities for enjoying them. But, there is a pecu- 
 liar relish belonging to an object which you have 
 yourself had an agency in producing. That vine 
 possesses a peculiar interest because your own right 
 hand planted it. Its curvatures and twinings seem 
 more graceful because you trained them. Its flowers 
 look out from among the green leaves with smiles, 
 and seem to bid you good-morrow as their patron, 
 because your fingers placed them in such tasteful col- 
 locations, and your quickened fancy can easily think 
 of the dew-drops upon their petals as tears of grati- 
 tude for your affectionate care. The fragrance seems 
 sweeter because Avithout your agency it had never 
 existed. 
 
 It is not less evident that continuous labor is neces- 
 sary to the production of v/ealth, nor that industry 
 and frugality, in its acquisition, are the m^eans of 
 enhancing its enjoyment. That house has richer 
 associations of sweet home connected with it if it be 
 the purchase of your industry, and more still if you 
 contrived its architectural arrangements and labored 
 personally in the superintendence of its erection. 
 That furniture is more pleasing to a family if it bear 
 the marks of the taste and skilful arrangement of its 
 female members, and especially if every apartment be 
 embellished with the products of their industry. The 
 enjoyment of these objects, and their possession, de- 
 pend on protracted endeavor. They are the rewards 
 of industry, premiums for the encouragement of labor 
 
150 SERMON VIII. 
 
 "We never think of these as hard conditions. Yet 
 they are indispensable. If they be pretermitted the 
 rewards are lost. Kow place in the same range with 
 these as before the heavenly mansion, and it is obvious 
 that the same law ought to belong to the higher ob- 
 ject, as to the two inferior ones. You have again 
 (the vine) the earthly estate, and the heavenly riches. 
 "We can see no reason why the greater should not 
 depend on strenuous endeavor as well as the two lesser 
 interests. The enjoyments of the heavenly state 
 though in the most important sense a gratuity, as 
 purchased by the sacrifice of our Redeemer, are never- 
 theless enhanced by the strenuousness of the effort 
 made necessary for their attainment. 
 
 You know that the apostle Paul has represented 
 the securing of salvation by the achievement of the 
 successful competitor in the Olympic games. The 
 Christian is represented as contending for a heavenly 
 crown. He must practise a self-denial analogous to 
 the severe discipline of one preparing for the race, 
 when he keeps his body under by restraining all ener- 
 vating passions by taking a simple diet, and by those 
 athletic exercises which turn all his corporeal energies 
 into one direction. He must circumspectly survey 
 the dangers of his career, and stimulate his energies 
 by a salutary apprehension, and contend with manly 
 vigor till the crown is attained. The competitor for 
 the earthly crown summoned all his powers, divested 
 himself of entangling garments, and united caution 
 with earnestnesslest heshould fall, and then contended 
 
THE GREAT SALVATIOK. 151 
 
 "Vvitii such competition that he could barely throw him- 
 self past the goal covered with sweat and dust and 
 ready to faint for joy, if he escaped being made a 
 cast-away, if he received the crown. Such earnest- 
 ness, such strenuousness and protraction of endeavor 
 are made necessary to the attainment of a crown of 
 glory. 
 
 The impression made by this representation might 
 be deepened by dwelling upon another class of images 
 adduced by the same apostle to evince the necessity 
 of earnest endeavor to secure the bliss of heaven. 
 The life of the Christian is compared to a warfare. 
 He is presented to us as covered with a complete coat 
 of mail. His antagonists are principalities and powers. 
 He is surrounded with the strategy of infernal cun- 
 ning, and assailed with darts of fire. When, howeverj 
 the terrible missiles come thick and fast, the shield of 
 faith is interposed, and quenched are all the fiery 
 darts of the adversary. When the battle-axe of 
 Apollyon is uplifted, so that the head of his victim 
 seems about to be cloven at a stroke, its edge is turned 
 by that impenetrable helmet, the hope of salvation. 
 Yet the conflict continues. The Christian warrior is 
 sometimes seen with waving plume and drawn sword 
 charging the foe, and causing whole columns to fall 
 back in confusion. Sometimes he is seen retreating. 
 Sometimes he is down, covered with dust and blood, 
 and groaning under the wounds he has received ; anon 
 he is up, following the Captain of his salvation, utter- 
 ing shouts of defiance, and easily hewing out for himself 
 
152 SERMON virr. 
 
 a passage throngli the thickest ranks of the enemy. 
 There is no discharge in this war while life lasts, but 
 when the warfare is accomplished he bears a victor's 
 palm. But his triumph is sweet, because his conflict 
 has been severe. The palm of victory is valuable 
 because obtained with difficulty. The righteous are 
 scarcely saved, and the crown, the harp, the repose, 
 the purity, and the songs of heaven are all enhanced 
 in value by the strenuousncss of the endeavor by 
 which they were obtained. 
 
 And why should it not be so. The smallest of the 
 three objects mentioned, is rendered the more a bless- 
 ing because depending on labor, and because the 
 mind can think of it as a good which had not been 
 obtained but by exertion. The ample estate and its 
 comforts are proifered in such a manner as to demand 
 exertion, and attended with such conditions that they 
 may be lost by neglect. Why should not all possible 
 blessings be a means of similar discipline ? Why should 
 not the value of heaven be forever enhanced in the 
 mind's estimate by its being the reward of strenuous 
 exertion, by a keen and never-ceasing remembrance 
 of the fact, that it might have been lost by neglect? 
 
 But there is yet another great end to be achieved 
 by those arrangements, according to which blessings 
 may be secured through thoughtfulness and exertion, 
 and may be lost by neglect. I mean a training of 
 man to the habit of forecast, and to a disciplined en- 
 ergy in forming and executing lofty purposes. Such 
 is the constitution with which God has gifted us, that 
 
THE GREAT SALVATION. 153 
 
 we find the cliief stimulus to exertion in the prospective 
 consequences of present action. You wouhl never 
 lend either thought or muscle to the planting and 
 training of that vine, if you did not see it flourishing 
 in prospect, and anticipate its fragrance and beauty. 
 You would not toil with patient industry and husband 
 your gains with care if you did not see that accumu- 
 lated wealth would confer advantages, nor even then 
 would you make exertion if you did not believe that 
 these advantages would be lost by neglect. A fore- 
 casting faith is essential to the very nature of the 
 principle motives to human action. Moses had re- 
 spect to the recompense of reward, when he refused 
 to be called the son of Pharaoh's daughter. That is, 
 he saw the alternative before him. If he preferred 
 the reproach of Christ to the treasures in Egypt, he 
 foresaw a bright career of honor, a crown of eternal 
 glory. If he should prefer the earthly kingdom, 
 and refuse to suffer affliction with the people of God, 
 he saw that heaven would be lost. He felt' the power 
 of this alternative. He was swayed by it. To sup- 
 pose him acting without it, is to suppose he is swayed 
 without the action of any great motive. 
 
 Now we find in fact, that God leaves men to the 
 action of this faith in all the great interests of life, 
 and their chief discipline depends on it. Here is a 
 man just commencing the navigation of a ship be- 
 tween two distant ports. His object is gain. The 
 means by which he expects success are, skill in traffick- 
 ing, and a cheap transportation of his merchandise. 
 
154 . SERMON virr. 
 
 He can pursue a circuitous and comparatively safe 
 navigation, and secure small pecuniary advantage ; 
 he can make a more hazardous voyage with the pros- 
 pect of larger profits. God will not interpose to in- 
 form him which course he must take, much less will 
 he compel him to choose that which is best. He in- 
 tends that these circumstances shall discipline the 
 powers and draw out the energies of the man. He 
 must make his own estimate of the value of his life, 
 and of the degree of jeopardy to Vvhich it is to be ex- 
 posed. He must calculate the value of his skill in 
 making the more hazardous passage. He must bal- 
 ance the difference of his prospective gains against 
 the difference of dangers. In this estimate of alter- 
 natives, and this decision of a great practical question, 
 and the enterprise of pursuing the more difficult course 
 there is a vast amount of discipline. If he is wise, and 
 does not undertake more than a man of his powers 
 may hope to achieve, he is a gainer for himself, he 
 improves his art for succeeding navigators, he aug- 
 ments the advantages of that species of commeic?. 
 If on the other hand he has made a rash decision, and 
 is not equal to the task which he has undertaken ; if 
 he finds himself on a lea shore and loses his ship, his 
 cargo, and the lives of all on board, God ^\l\\ not in- 
 terpose by miracle to save him. If he should do this 
 in the case of every rash and foolish enterprise, he 
 would be, in effect, offering a premium for rashness 
 and folly. He would take away the incentive to in- 
 dependent thinking, to caution, to enterprise. 
 
THE GREAT SALVATION. 155 
 
 This kind of discipline pervades the entire provi- 
 dential and moral government of God. It is not 
 limited to objects of slight importance. It belongs to 
 the greatest. It is intended to qualify man for act- 
 ing in relation to high objects. It is not limited by 
 the shortness of the period in which an enterprise is to 
 be accomplished. It belongs to the -whole of life, the 
 whole of eternity. God would form human character 
 for the greatest undertakings, for a career of honor, 
 glory, and immortality. He has pointed out a course 
 of perfect safety. He has left us free to hazard 
 everything by our rashness and our untractable tem- 
 per. 
 
 Let me now proceed to a practical application of 
 this reasoning. It is not to prove to you that men 
 will be lost, if they neglect the gospel. Our text 
 teaches this doctrine clearly ; the fact that God has 
 so taught, I consider ample proof of the justice of 
 the arrano-ement. I have aimed rather to counteract 
 that easy credulity by which men hope to escape the 
 operations of those principles in another world, which 
 act on them continually in this. Did you never hope, 
 my unconverted friend, that God would, by some 
 means, render your eternal interests secure ? Did 
 you never fancy that, because this interest was so 
 large and so enduring, God would not intrust it to 
 your choice? That he would not stake its attainment 
 on exertion, nor make it liable to be lost by neglect ? 
 Now let me suggest some friendly cautions by asking 
 you to look well to the evidence before you trust to 
 
156 SERMON VIII. 
 
 such a belief. What proof can you adduce to show 
 that God does not intend to awaken thousjht, to rouse 
 the mental energies of men, by making his highest 
 and most enduring blessings to depend on attention. 
 What evidence have tou that he does not desi^jn to 
 employ such vast alternatives to give consequence to 
 vour intellectual beinsr? How know tou that he 
 does not consider neelifrence so sreat an evil in moral 
 frovernment as to make it worth while that eternal 
 death should be its consequence ? He certainly has 
 not revealed to you that eternal happiness, like eter- 
 nal existence, is secure without exerrion on your part. 
 The fact that all his other crifts, small and ^reat. are 
 liable to be lost by neglect, certainly does not prove 
 that it will not be so with this. What assurance 
 
 have TOU that God does not intend to encourage exer- 
 » t. 
 
 tion by making heavenly treasure depend on it as well 
 as by connecting such conditions with inferior bless- 
 ings ? What evidence have you to show that God does 
 not appoint this high discipline for immortal minds ? 
 that he is not training men for enterprises so lofty, 
 and that anything short of forming a decision and act- 
 ing on questions involving eternal bliss and woe, are 
 adequate means of discipline ? I tliink you have no 
 e\"idence on these points to sustain you. Tour only 
 rational hope is in an immediate and earnest atten- 
 tion to the gospel. Do not let this indefinite hoping 
 that something else will answer the desired end 
 deceive tou. Xeelect is easT. It is like slumber; 
 the more profound it is the less is it observed. Yet, 
 
THE GREAT SALVATION. 157 
 
 when you are borne on a gentle current, you may 
 be near the engulfing cataract. If you will be saved, 
 you must be aroused, you must awake to right- 
 eousness. You must make a strenuous endeavor, 
 you must flee from the wrath to come; you must 
 lay hold on eternal life: you must strive; you must 
 agonize to enter in at the strait gate, for many 
 will seek to enter in and shall not be able, when 
 once the master of the house hath risen up and 
 shut to the door. Speak not of your dependence 
 on Divine grace as a ground for delay. That de- 
 pendence furnishes a reason for instant and ear- 
 nest effort. Now Divine assistance may be afforded. 
 Neglect that grace now, and another opportunity of 
 availing yourself of its proffers may not be granted. 
 Another admonition of the Spirit may never reach 
 you. Xow is the accepted time, now is the day of 
 salvation. God will not depart from those great uni- 
 versal laws by which he governs the universe, to meet 
 your peculiarities. You may lose any interest by 
 neglect. Your gold and silver may canker. Your 
 garments may be moth-eaten. Your health may fail 
 through negligence. Your mental powers may grow 
 dim, through inaction ; your spu-itual faculties may 
 be covered all over with mould, and penetrated with a 
 hopeless decay. Still, the gospel can recover you 
 now. It is adapted to your necessities. But this 
 gospel can be rejected. Its gracious proffers may 
 be treated as a nullity. Then, when the storm of 
 U 
 
158 SERMON VIII. 
 
 the final judgment shall gather, you may hear, 
 in its inarticulate roar, a voice of terror : '• How 
 can ye escape who have neglected so great salva- 
 tion ?" 
 
SERMON IX 
 
 THE GOOD SAMARITAN. 
 
 A CERTAIN MAN WENT DOWN FEOM JERUSALEM TO JeRICHO, AND 
 FELL AMONG THIEVES, WHICH STRIPPED HI3I OF HIS RAIMENT, AND 
 WOUNDED HIM, AND DEPARTED, LEAVING HIM HALE DEAD. AnD BY 
 CHANCE THERE CAME DOWN A CERTAIN PRIEST THAT WAY; AND WHEN 
 HE SAW HIM, HE PASSED BY ON THE OTHER SIDE. AnD LIKEWISE A 
 LeVITE, when he was at THE PLACE, CAME AND LOOKED ON HIM, 
 AND PASSED BY ON THE OTHER SIDE. BUT A CERTAIN SAMARITAN, 
 AS HE JOURNEYED, CAME WHERE HE WAS : AND WHEN HE SAW HIM, 
 HE HAD COMPASSION ON HIM, AND WENT TO HIM AND BOUND UP HIS 
 WOUNDS, POURING IN OIL AND WINE, AND SET HIM ON HIS OWN BEAST, 
 AND BROUGHT HIM TO AN INN, AND TOOK CARE OF HIM. 
 
 And ON THE MORROW WHEN HE DEPARTED, HE TOOK OUT TWO 
 
 pence, and gave them to the host, and said unto him, take care 
 of him ; and whatsoever thou spendest more, when i come 
 again, i will repay thee. 
 
 Which now of these three, thinkest thou, was neighbor unto 
 
 HIM that FELL AMONG THE THIEVES ? AnD HE SAID, HE THAT SHOWED 
 MERCY ON HIM. ThEN SAID JeSUS UNTO HIM, GO, AND DO THOU LIKE- 
 WISE. — Luke X. 30 — 87. 
 
 An interesting conversation once occurred between 
 several clergymen respecting the quality of a distin- 
 guished preacher. It was agreed by all present that 
 he was not remarkable for profound thought, or nice dis- 
 crimination, or logical force ; yet he had great success, 
 
160 SERMON IX. 
 
 and that too with many minrls of a highly respectable 
 order. One gave it as his opinion that men were 
 captivated with the grace of his manner, and that the 
 influence of his ministry was an indication of the 
 superficial character of the public mind. Another 
 alleged that an unusual manifestation of religious 
 feeling was the secret of his influence, and maintained 
 this position by alluding to the admitted fact that the 
 female mind, and indeed, all persons who were re- 
 markable for fine sensibilities, most readily yielded 
 to the power of his eloquence. Upon this, another 
 observed that he diff'ered with them all. He allowed 
 that it was true that the preacher in question did not 
 possess any remarkable depth and force of mind, " but," 
 said he, " he always presents a fair amount of good 
 instruction, and exhibits it in a pleasing and attrac- 
 tive manner. Still, there is another quality, which, 
 added to those just mentioned, exerts an influence on 
 every class of minds in a popular assembly." " And 
 what is that?" inquired several voices, at once. "I 
 will tell you," rejoined my friend. '' He is what I 
 should call, in one word, a |nV^077*a? preacher. He 
 presents truth in the concrete. He makes bold 
 sketches, and draws a succession of scenes which serve 
 to interest one, and to hold the mind upon the truth 
 long enough to secure its legitimate influence." 
 
 This quality, by whatever name you may choose to 
 call it, belonged pre-eminently to the preaching of our 
 Saviour. While he was always profound and discrimi- 
 nating, and in these respects spake as never man 
 
THE GOOD SAMARITAN. 161 
 
 spake, yet he was, in the sense just referred to, a 
 pictorial preacher. Our text is one of his scenes. 
 It is a picture true to nature, remarkable for a strik- 
 ing individuality, and full of tender pathos. You 
 can almost hear the heavy breathing of the wounded 
 man, and the soft tones of the compassionate Samari- 
 tan, as his story proceeds. Yet the profoundest prin- 
 ciples are involved in the incidents and characters 
 presented to us in this thrilling narrative. 
 
 That you may perceive the truth and the import- 
 ance of these principles, let me call your attention 
 to the occasion of our Lord's uttering this parable. 
 A certain lawyer — that is, a learned professor of 
 biblical exegesis ; a man of scholarship, and devoted 
 to the interpretation of the Divine law — put to him 
 a question, the object of which was to involve our 
 Saviour in difficulty. A certain lawyer, it is said, stood 
 up, and tempted him, saying, " Master, what shall I 
 do to inherit eternal life?" Christ replies by asking 
 another question, a question directly in the line of his 
 own profession. "What is written in the law? How 
 readest thou?" The lawyer responded by reciting a 
 concise epitome of the decalogue: "Thou shalt love 
 the Lord thy God with all thy heart, and with all thy 
 soul, and with all thy strength, and with all thy mind, 
 and thy neighbor as thyself." Jesus said unto him, 
 "Thou hast answered right; this do, and thou shalt 
 live." Here the conversation might naturally have 
 terminated, and the learned professor might have re- 
 tired with the conviction rankling in his bosom that he 
 
 14* 
 
162 SERMON IX. 
 
 had not kept tlie law, and that consequently he must 
 fail of eternal life. But he could not rest thus. He 
 wished to justify himself. He desired to protract 
 the conversation and perplex the subject in some way, 
 so that it might not be so perfectly apparent that he 
 was involved in guilt and condemnation. Willing to 
 justify himself, he said unto Jesus, " And who is my 
 neiglibor?" Upon this, our Saviour adduced the 
 narrative which I have read as my text. His object 
 was plainly threefold. 
 
 I. To sJiow the hearings of the second table of the 
 lata, in rendering the claims of humanity universal, 
 extensive as the ivants and looes of men. 
 
 II. To depict the character of those ivho decline 
 responding to these claims, ayid 
 
 III. To exhibit, in a striking instance, the truth 
 that obedience to these claims is both practicable and 
 obligatory. 
 
 There is a question arising from this narrative to 
 which I wish to call your attention for one moment. 
 It is this. Why did this conversation terminate on 
 the second table of the law? The learned antagonist 
 of our Lord had plainly stated that there were tWo 
 departments in the Divine law. The one demanded 
 supreme love to God, the other required a love to our 
 neighbor, measured, as to its degree, by the regard 
 which we cherish for ourselves. The captious debater 
 led the discussion oif into the second table, because 
 there was no room for a question in respect to the 
 first. That all men ought to love God supremely, no 
 
THE GOOD SAMARITAN. 163 
 
 person can doubt. But when it is said thou shalt 
 love thy neighbor as thyself, a broad field for debate 
 is open. Who is my neighbor? Is the term to be 
 restricted to my own kindred — my near family re- 
 lations? Does it embrace no more than those resi- 
 ding in my own immediate locality ? Is it circum- 
 scribed, at least, by the boundaries of my country ? 
 The answer to all these inquiries was fully met by 
 the story of the Good Samaritan. 
 
 From the starting-point, and the destination of the 
 traveller as going from Jerusalem down to Jericho, it 
 is evident that he was a Jewish merchant. The story 
 is so constructed that you cannot avoid the conviction 
 that the Good Samaritan responded to the veritable 
 claims of the second table of the law, when he paused 
 in his journey, and, at great inconvenience, and delay, 
 and expense, ministered to the necessity of this un- 
 fortunate traveller. But why did these claims rest 
 on him ? Was the man one of his near kindred ? No. 
 They were not bound together by those strong ties 
 which are created by domestic affections. They were 
 not linked to each other by the intermarriage of their 
 families. They were mutually strangers. Nor were 
 they of the same nation. The one traced his pedi- 
 gree with national pride back to Abraham, the other 
 was of that mongrel stock that sprung from a remnant 
 of the ten tribes that had long since mingled and lost 
 themselves by intermarriages with their idolatrous 
 conquerors. Their interest in each other was not 
 that national attachment which springs up between 
 
164 SERMON IX. 
 
 those of the same country, though personally strangers, 
 as when two Americans meet in Egypt or in China. 
 Their respective nations were not allied by bonds of 
 confederation, or by similar institutions and religions. 
 On the contrary, the Jews had no dealings with the 
 Samaritans. A bitter and ancient grudge subsisted 
 between the two people. The English and French 
 never cherished a deeper political hate. Protestants 
 and Roman Catholics were never more unrelenting in 
 religious animosities. In short, there were but two 
 things on which the claims of the unfortunate traveller 
 rested. 1. He was a needy, suffering man. 2. The 
 Samaritan had an opportunity to relieve him. The 
 claim of the sufferer was the claim of want. It was 
 not based on his character as a good man, on his re- 
 lationship to the Samaritan as a near kinsman, on his 
 being of the same stock, on any political confederation 
 between the nations to which they respectively be- 
 longed. It rested not on any similarity of institutions 
 and religions. He was a man, and was hence entitled 
 to the sympathy and brotherly affection of his fellow- 
 man. He was a sufferer, and had a claim to compas- 
 sion. His lifeblood was ebbing away from un- 
 stanched wounds. The Samaritan was passing. He 
 had garments that could be torn up for bandages, and 
 oil and wine that could be used to sustain and heal 
 him. The helplessness of the unfortunate stranger 
 demanded aid. His bleeding wounds had a claim for 
 the bandages. His fainting frame demanded the 
 wine. He could not walk, and his weakness, 
 
THE GOOD SAMARITAN. 165 
 
 in this regard, created a claim for the use of the 
 Samaritan's beast; and, inasmuch as he was unable 
 to mount, his inability demanded the requisite assist- 
 ance to remove him to more comfortable quarters. 
 He needed attention still, and that need made it the 
 duty of the Samaritan to stay and take care of him. 
 The next day the exigencies of business, or the claims 
 of others may require that this humane stranger should 
 pursue his journey. The unfortunate man, however, 
 must still be in want, and this creates an obligation 
 to pay his bill, and then to pledge his own credit for 
 such care as may be still necessary for his recovery. 
 The claim, according to the law of God, was a perfect 
 one. Plausible things might be said to set it aside. 
 But nothing that could be said could invalidate it. 
 If the Samaritan had intended, by some means, to 
 escape from the interruption, the labor, the expense 
 of all this charity, he could have said : This man is no 
 kindred of mine. I have more poor relations to care 
 for than my means will well allow ? Besides, this Jew 
 will, perhaps, order me to go out of the inclosure of his 
 sacred temple, and call me a dog, the next time I am 
 in Jerusalem. Why did not the priest and Levite that 
 just passed this way assist him ? He was of their 
 own kindred. Moreover, they are the very rulers of 
 the church, professors of an extraordinary charity. 
 But, if I do help him, I will only take him to the inn. 
 That will be my share. The innkeeper ought to do 
 something, and the people of the neighborhood ought 
 to make a contribution. — I say these and many such 
 
16G SERMON IX. 
 
 like things might be said -svith a degree of plausibility, 
 but they would not have met the demands of the law 
 as expounded by Christ, its original author. The 
 meaning of that law is plainly this. You are to re- 
 gard the interests of any man, and every man as if 
 they were your own. Suffering and want, wherever 
 they may exist, and in whomsoever found, have a 
 claim upon you, just in proportion as the opportunity 
 is presented for affording relief. This, of course, does 
 not imply that you are to neglect a paramount claim 
 that presses itself upon you in your family, and among 
 those with whom you are socially and closely connect- 
 ed ; nor, that you shall distribute your charity so wide- 
 ly that no individual can receive enough to be materi- 
 ally benefited ; nor, that you shall disburse all your 
 stores at once, and so direct your attention away from 
 your proper vocation, as to deprive yourself of the 
 means of a future liberality. The exercise of what 
 we call good sense is needful to a right distribution 
 of labors of love. But still, if parsimony, if the love 
 of accumulating wealth be permitted to come in, and 
 to plead against one object, because it is not of your 
 own household, and another because it is not of your 
 immediate locality, and another because you have a 
 personal dislike to the object of distress or want ; — 
 if you are disposed always to find a reason against 
 making sacrifices, and practising self-denials for the 
 good of others, then I say, are you living in open and 
 wilful disobedience to the second table of the law. 
 Nor is it necessary that the demand should present 
 
THE GOOD SAMARITAN. 167 
 
 itself in immediate proximity with your person, to 
 render it a valid claim. True, the good Samaritan 
 found the unfortunate traveller bleeding in the very 
 path along which he was passing. He must either 
 track through the blood in which the stranger lies 
 weltering, or he must sheer around by the other side 
 of the way, or he must stop and render assistance. 
 But his obligation does not depend on his being so 
 hemmed in, and compelled to contemplate that object 
 of charity. If the same sufferer had been an hun- 
 dred yards distant, out of sight in a thicket, and he 
 had heard his cries for help; or if a trustworthy 
 messenger had informed him of a similar case at half 
 a mile's distance, the claim to assistance would have 
 been substantially the same. Nor is it necessary 
 that the suffering should have been created by maraud- 
 ing robbers. It would have presented an equal claim 
 on human sympathy, if it had been caused by a fall 
 from his own horse, or any other casualty. Neither 
 is it necessary that the injury should appeal to the 
 senses by blood or groans, or indeed that it should 
 possess any physical character. It may be pale famine 
 sending report of its miseries from a distant land ; 
 it may be degrading superstition and spiritual dearth 
 and ruin transmittino; their claims throuo;h the ave- 
 nues of commerce, or along the electric wire, or speak- 
 ing as the man in the vision spoke to Paul, saying, 
 "Come over into Macedonia and help us." If the 
 evils be real and great ; if the knowledge of them be 
 conveyed to those who possess the means of furnish- 
 
168 SERMON IX. 
 
 iiig relief, then is the ohligation perfect. There are 
 a hundred ways in which men can push it aside. But 
 it is God's claim, and it cannot be invalidated. It 
 can be resisted — resisted plausibly. But no plea of 
 indolence can justify inaction. No cunning manoeuvre 
 of debate about who should be reckoned a neighbor 
 can furnish a shield for selfishness ; no shuffling trick 
 of avarice can evade obligation by a reference to the 
 delinquencies of others. If the sufferer is a man, he 
 is your neighbor, your brother. If intelligence of his 
 wants has come to you, or been brought within your 
 reach, and a reasonable channel of relief has been 
 opened between you, the claim on your sympathy is 
 a good one. If you have the power to aid him, with- 
 out injustice to yourself or others, and do it not, you 
 place yourself in company with the priest and Levite 
 that saw the wounded man and passed by on the other 
 side. 
 
 And this leads me to the second part of the three- 
 fold object which our Saviour had in view in this in- 
 teresting narrative. That was, as I have before inti- 
 mated, 
 
 To depict the character of those ivho decline respond- 
 ing to the claims of the second table of the law. And 
 here, I cannot help marking the hand of the Master 
 in describing this class of persons by a single stroke. 
 By chance there came down a certain priest that way. 
 Yes, it was by chance, for if he had known of this 
 case of bleeding humanity, he would have taken an- 
 other road, and not allowed his nerves to be shocked 
 
THE GOOD SAMARITAN. 169 
 
 by such a painful spectacle. However, he obtained 
 a quick relief. No sooner did he see the wounded 
 man than he passed by on the other side, and went 
 on his journey as if nothing had happened. Like- 
 wise a Levite, when he was at the place, came and 
 looked on him and passed by on the other side. 
 
 These, you will say, were hardened men. Yet 
 there is a slight difference observable. The priest 
 did not so much as pause ; perhaps, he did not even 
 slacken his pace, but barely sheered around to the 
 opposite side of the road, and passed on his course. 
 The Levite stopped, and looked on the spectacle, but 
 offered no relief, and also passed on. Which was 
 the worse man ? They both violated the same claim. 
 Yet I think there was a difference. The priest was 
 a more practised transgressor. He had learned that 
 the best way to avoid being overcome by the power 
 of a moral claim was to turn instantly away from the 
 motive to action. It is in accordance with the laws 
 of the human mind that the priest should be repre- 
 sented as excelling in depravity if both are wicked. 
 The reason is obvious. A man that occupies a sacred 
 office, surrounded with everything that is solemn and 
 tender in the motives for doing right, must be a more 
 hardened man to violate all these influences, than one 
 who commits the same transgression under a less 
 degree of moral influence. There are few persons 
 that can contemplate fully a case of suffering and 
 want, and be conscious of a perfect ability to afford 
 assistance, and then deliberately withhold their aid. 
 15 
 
170 SERMON IX. 
 
 The principal thing, then, that characterizes the 
 habitual violators of the second table of the law is 
 their determined avoidance of the motives to compas- 
 sion. 
 
 Behold, then, this priest and this Levite. They 
 are not mere individuals. Thej represent all habi- 
 tual transgressors of the second table of the law. 
 Let us take these as a nucleus around -which we may 
 gather in a homogeneous cluster all who possess the 
 same general character. Here is a man whom we 
 would persuade to take some interest in improving 
 the condition of the poor in our city. We spread 
 before you their state. We show you that what they 
 need is not so much an almshouse and public hospital. 
 They need a friend of intelligence and character that 
 will go and take them by the hand — some one that 
 will lay hold of a family as if they were his own poor 
 relations, whom he meant to do his utmost to raise to 
 respectability and usefulness. Such a family presents 
 itself. The parents are improvident, partly through 
 the want of early instruction, and partly through a 
 moral delinquency and indolence. Yet it really 
 seems to them that they are unfortunate, and that 
 they are constantly in such straits just because society 
 is badly constituted — so constituted as to make it 
 difficult for poor people to acquire a subsistence. — • 
 Their children, naturally bright and promising, will 
 form similar habits, and acquire similar modes of 
 thinking, if something be not done to prevent it. 
 The condition of this family appeals to you, as their 
 
THE GOOD SAMARITAN. 171 
 
 prosperous neighbor, and awakes reflection. It says 
 you may do a world of good, and prevent a world of 
 evil, by forming and prosecuting a judicious plan for 
 the improving the character and state of this poor 
 family. You can, at least for a time, visit them once 
 a week, and manifest your concern for them. You can 
 suggest or furnish employment. You can teach and 
 aid them in their little affairs to make the income of 
 a time of plenty lap over into seasons of scarcity. 
 You can help them to prosecute some plan for per- 
 manently improving their state. If it costs you 
 twenty dollars in a year, and as many hours of 
 thoughtful endeavor, it is a most profitable outlay of 
 charity. Your influence is established in that whole 
 household. Self-respect is awakened on their part, by 
 the consciousness of enjoying your friendship. They 
 are prepared to be influenced by your advice. You 
 may place them in the sanctuary that they had neg- 
 lected; you may become the instrument of moulding 
 their characters. I grant that you may neglect that 
 family through being engrossed in a more important 
 work of charity. But, if you neglect it on the usual 
 pretences — the urgency of your own affairs — the fact 
 that such a family holds no special relations to you — 
 that others may do the work as well as yourself, 
 then I say you are joined to the company of the 
 priest and Levite. You have passed by on the other 
 side. You belong to the class that deliberately neg- 
 lect obedience to the second table of the law. 
 
 But here is another appealed to, to send the gospel 
 
172 SERMON IX. 
 
 to the heathen. Missions to the heathen are one of 
 the first and most natural fruits of Christianity. Our 
 religion travelled westward, from its birthplace, only 
 by means of missions to the heathen. Hence our 
 own ancestors received it, and hence we enjoy to-day 
 these sanctuaries and these Christian institutions. 
 When Christianity had nearly pervaded the civilized 
 world, it received itself an impress from the paganism 
 with which it held so much commerce, and the church 
 sank into a dark and semi-idolatrous state. Since the 
 Reformation, the missionary work has received a fresh 
 impetus. The gospel has gone forth to heathen 
 nations. Hundreds of churches have been gathered. 
 Schools have been established, and printing presses 
 have been set in operation among barbarous tribes, to 
 impart a Christian tone to their nascent civilization. 
 But the cause labors. A Macedonian cry, " Come 
 over and help us," is borne on every breeze. You 
 are asked to compassionate six hundred millions of 
 benighted men. You are invited to come once each 
 month to the sanctuary and unite with the people of 
 God in prayer on their behalf. You are solicited, it 
 may be, to contribute of your funds to sustain laborers 
 in the field, or possibly to give up one of your dear 
 children to the Avork, or to go yourself. It may not 
 be your duty to go, or to send your son, or to devote 
 large amounts of property to this work. But, if your 
 heart never bleeds for the six hundred millions, if you 
 do nothing — if you meet every appeal, with a cap- 
 tious objection ; if you oppose present plans of opera- 
 
THE GOOD SAMARITAN. 173 
 
 tion without devising those that are better ; if you 
 leave this great movement wholly to others, and do not 
 pause to look upon the heathen and weep, and to ask, 
 "Lord, what wilt thou have me to do?" then you too be- 
 long to the same company with the priest and Levite. 
 You pass by on the other side. 
 
 You, again, are solicited to aid a poor church to 
 erect a sanctuary in one of our sparsely populated 
 and destitute counties. You are opposed to aiding 
 anybody in building churches. You think they 
 ought to erect such a one as their means will allow. 
 But the soliciting clergyman tells you that there are 
 only four or five families that feel any great interest 
 in the enterprise ; that a sanctuary is indispensable 
 as a means of bringing the people together to teach 
 them that they need one. All will not do. You 
 have made up your mind beforehand, and you will 
 not so much as pause and look at the distress, as the 
 Levite did — you pass right on with the priest, sheering 
 around to the other side, and thinking as little as 
 possible of the justness of the claim. Now observe, 
 I have not maintained that all persons belong to this 
 class who reject any claim that may be presented. I 
 only say that those who are annoyed by calls of 
 charity — those who desire to avoid looking at them, 
 and who set up such pretences as were just referred 
 to, that they swell the company that are homogeneous 
 with the priest and Levite. 
 
 And this leads me to the third principal point 
 brought to view in the narrative. The truth, that 
 
 15* 
 
174 SERMON IX. 
 
 obedience to the second table of the law, is both 2^raC' 
 ticable and obligatory, is clearly exhibited in the con- 
 duct of the good Samaritan. This point I deem one 
 of great importance, because it is one in respect to 
 which multitudes deceive themselves. There is per- 
 haps no man that has not, at some time, performed an 
 act of generosity. Such a one is apt to think that 
 the only difference that subsists between himself and 
 the good Samaritan, or a man like John Howard the 
 philanthropist, or the missionary Martyn, or Paul, or 
 Christ, in respect to acts of kindness and compassion 
 is, that they more abounded in acts of generosity 
 than himself; that these great philanthropists differed 
 from him not radically, but only in degree. 
 
 I humbly conceive it can be demonstrated to you 
 that this is a grand mistake. This good Samaritan 
 relieved distress where others refused their assistance. 
 There was something in the case of that Avounded 
 man which failed to awaken the compassion and call 
 forth the friendly interposition of the priest and 
 Levite, although they were his countrymen, and pro- 
 bably his fellow-citizens. Perhaps the pausing in 
 that wild place where the outrage had been committed 
 was dangerous. Perhaps the difficulty of removing him 
 to more comfortable quarters was great on account of 
 the distance and the state of the roads. Perhaps his 
 condition was such as to render the necessary atten- 
 tion disagreeable and sickening in its nature. AYhat- 
 ever the cause might have been, there were certain 
 repellencics connected with the case, of such a char- 
 
THE GOOD SAMARITAN. 175 
 
 acter as to prevent any kind endeavor on his behalf 
 by these two selfish men. The Samaritan, with slighter 
 grounds of appeal, took up the matter as if the man 
 had been his brother, and that too though not of the 
 same nation or religion; though he belonged, even, to 
 a people that despised the Samaritans. A man that 
 would do such a work, in such circumstances, was a 
 philanthropist in his whole character. He would 
 have responded to any call of suffering humanity. If 
 he were now alive and here, he would be one of the 
 men to whom every person engaged in works of 
 charity and mercy would go for sympathy and aid. 
 Such a man was John Howard. The most noisome 
 dungeon could not repel him. The dangers of con- 
 tagion could not slacken his zeal. His whole estate 
 and whole time were not too much to contribute to 
 the wants of suffering humanity. Such a man was 
 the missionary Martyn, and such are hundreds now, 
 like him, that have taken their all in their hands and 
 gone forth to raise a degraded people. Such a person 
 was Elizabeth Fry, the self-sacrificing prisoner's 
 friend. 
 
 Nor is this spirit confined to those whose ample 
 estate or learning, or social position, or official 
 station have made them eminent. Thousands of 
 poor men and women — persons devoted earnestly 
 to a secular vocation, breathe the same spirit. It 
 has been my happiness to know many here, and 
 elsewhere, that are philanthropists in character ; 
 persons that will respond to a claim, not merely when 
 
176 SERMON IX. 
 
 it happens to meet their generosity in a peculiar vein, 
 but to any claim of charity. 
 
 The difference between such, and those represented 
 by the priest and Levite, is not that one class is more 
 generous than the other. It is rather this: the one 
 avoids the objects of compassion, the other seehs 
 them. The one inquires: "Who is my neighbor? 
 Is there any special claim on me here ? Ought not 
 others to do this work ? Am I not asked to do more 
 than my part? The calls are too frequent, too many; 
 I am worn out by the number and the urgency of the 
 demands of charity." The other says: "The case is 
 important, truly. I wish there were more time at my 
 command. I must save an hour from my recreations 
 or my business. It demands expense. True. I see 
 it. If the whole church would co-operate liberally 
 what a good work could be done. Well, since they 
 will not, we must do the more. Here is my contribu- 
 tion. This cause must not suffer. If you are not 
 likely to succeed call again, and I will double my gifts." 
 Thus you can sec in the one party a determination to 
 avoid self-denial, to evade the appeal, to pass by on 
 the other side of the calls of humanity, to as great a 
 degree as possible. In the other, you can just as 
 clearly discover a spontaneous yearning over suffer- 
 ing and needy men; an appetency towards the scenes 
 of want; a reluctance to leave the work of doing 
 good to others. 
 
 We have a still higher example than, that of the 
 good Samaritan. When Christ passed in the direc- 
 
THE GOOD SAMARITAN. 177 
 
 tion of our world, he saw our ruined race. He found 
 us in our blood, more than half dead, robbed by sin 
 and sinking into death eternal. He did not pass by 
 like the priest on the other side. He did not pause 
 merely like the Levite and then pass on. He compas- 
 sionated our state, though it cost him humiliation, pain, 
 and death. No mere man ever manifested a love like 
 his, or copied perfectly his compassion. Yet every 
 true disciple of the Lord Jesus does aim, deliberately, 
 to imitate his philanthropy. 
 
 And now let me ask you, my hearers, in conclusion, 
 have you this evidence of being genuine disciples of 
 Christ. Do you aim to keep this second table of the 
 law? I do not ask whether you keep it perfectly. 
 I know you do not. There is an imperfection in 
 the endeavors of the most devout and philanthropic. 
 But do you listen to every call of bleeding humanity 
 as a call to you — a call in which you ought to have 
 and really have an interest? These claims are uni- 
 versal. Every man is your neighbor. Every suf- 
 ferer is your poor relation, your brother. He may 
 have nearer relations; that makes no difference. It 
 may be that some one else is more immediately bound 
 to assist him, and yet will not. It may be that you 
 are asked to do more than your share. I cannot help 
 that. If he is in want, and you can assist him with- 
 out injustice to others or yourself, the case is a clear 
 one. No matter whether his wants be physical or 
 moral — whether he suffers from a bleeding body or 
 '' abounded spirit." If your brother man have need, 
 
178 SERMON IX. 
 
 and you shut up your bowels of compassion, how 
 dwelleth the love of God in you ? 
 
 IIow do you meet these claims. Do you pass 
 around them? Do you ask who is my neighbor? Do 
 you hesitate to look at the wants of your race ? Do 
 you banish the calls of charity from your mind, and 
 complain of the frequency with which they are brought 
 before you by associated endeavor ? Do you pass by 
 the scenes of distress on the other side ? Do not 
 deceive yourself. You may be a reputable professor 
 of religion ; you may fill a sacred office, and 
 not possess the philanthropic spirit of our Master, 
 and so be none of his. I trust I shall not be mis- 
 understood; that none of you will think that I am 
 maintaining that you must yield to every solicita- 
 tion which any one may choose to present — or, that 
 you must bestow liberal gifts on every mendicant, 
 irrespective of the influence whether it foster vice or 
 encourage virtue and relieve distress. I advocate no 
 such weak facility in yielding to the cries of false- 
 hood and imposture. But I do say that you live in 
 a suffering, needy world. That the calls of real 
 necessity are numerous and urgent. The poor ye 
 have always with you. In that alley, your Saviour is 
 sick and in want in the person of an indigent dis- 
 ciple. In yonder penitentiary, he is in prison in the 
 suffering of sinful men for whom he died. In that 
 neglected portion of our population, where no sanc- 
 tuary invites the people to worship, he is represented 
 by those whom he came to save. In those heathen 
 
THE GOOD SAMARITAN. 179 
 
 tribes over which a portion of the visible church 
 yearns with tender compassion, he that died for them 
 invokes your pity. You shall be confronted, one day, 
 by all these neglected poor, at the bar of God. If 
 you meet them as one who was in full sympathy with 
 your and their Redeemer, you shall hear the welcome 
 announcement: " Come, ye blessed of my Father — in- 
 asmuch as ye have done it unto one of the least of 
 these ye have done it unto me." But, if you were 
 not a hearty philanthropist — if you did not walk with 
 Christ up and down in this dying world; if when this 
 good Samaritan, this heavenly stranger was binding 
 up the wounds of men, you did not count it a privilege 
 to be near him — to hold his dossils and bandages, 
 and pour out freely your own oil and wine, then I 
 say it will be found that you have not that sympathy 
 with him which will secure your entering into his joy. 
 Deceive not yourself. The Omniscient God cannot 
 be deceived and will not be mocked. " If any man 
 love not his brother whom he hath seen, how can 
 he love God whom he hath not seen?" 
 
SERMON X. 
 
 SINNERS EMBOLDENED BY FORBEARANCE. 
 
 Because sentence against an evil work is not executed 
 speedily, therefore the heart of the sons of men is fully set 
 
 IN THEM TO DO EVIL. EccUs. \1U. 11. 
 
 Whatever this portion of Sacred Writ teaches is 
 applicable to the human family at large. It belongs 
 not to any class of persons, but to " the sons of men." 
 Three important truths are suggested by the text. 
 
 I. It is implied that the sentence of condem- 
 nation IS already passed upon men. 
 
 II. It is directly taught by the language used, 
 that the execution of the sentence is delayed ; 
 and — 
 
 III. That men take occasion to harden them- 
 selves in sin on account of the forbearance of 
 God. 
 
 Your attention is invited to these topics in the 
 order just stated. 
 
 I. It is hnplied that the sentence of condemnation 
 from Crod is already/ passed upon men. '' Because 
 sentence against an evil work is not executed." This 
 language plainly implies that the sentence has been 
 
SINNERS EMBOLDENED BY FORBEARANCE. 181 
 
 past, and that the delay of justice has occurred pre- 
 cisely between the sentence and the execution. Other- 
 wise the writer would have intimated that the result 
 which he deplored had arisen either from the fact that 
 no law had been promulgated — or from a neglect to 
 arraign and pass sentence upon its transgressor. 
 Instead of this, however, he assumes that the law has 
 been known, but its sacred influence has not restrained 
 from evil doing. He assumes, also, that the sentence 
 of condemnation has been pronounced. This has failed 
 to interpose a salutary check to sin. There is but one 
 more step in the process of justice. This step is 
 delayed, "sentence is not executed speedily." It is 
 not improbable, my friends, that many of you may 
 have inferred from your views of a future judgment, 
 and from the nature of a probation for the formation 
 of character, that you are not yet condemned; and 
 that your condition in relation to the Divine government 
 is analogous to the state of those who have rendered 
 themselves, in some respects, liable to the law of the 
 state, but who, on account of the lenity of the govern- 
 ment, have never yet been arraigned, and who never 
 will be if their character as citizens should be im- 
 proved. If this be your view, let me assure you that it 
 is a total mistake. The law of God has been published 
 not only, but you have also been arraigned before your 
 Lawgiver and Judge, and your eternal doom has been 
 pronounced. 
 
 This truth is very clearly substantiated by our 
 Saviour's reasoning to prove that he did not come into 
 16 
 
182 SERMON X. 
 
 the world to condemn men, but to save them. In the 
 gospel according to St. John, in the third chapter and 
 17th and 18th verses, he sajs: "For God sent not 
 his Son into the world to condemn the world, but that 
 the world through him might be saved. lie that 
 believeth on him is not condemned ; but he that be- 
 lievcth not is condemned already, because he hath not 
 believed in the name of the only begotten Son of God." 
 Here are two reasons given to prove that our Saviour 
 did not come into the world to condemn men. The 
 first is the declaration that his work was of an op- 
 posite character : it was to confer eternal life upon 
 all that should put their trust in him, so that his in- 
 fluence was to remove the condemnatory sentence. 
 The second reason w^as found in the fact that they 
 were condemned already. In the 36th verse of the 
 same chapter he also represents the unbeliever as 
 lying at the present time under the sentence of the 
 Divine law. " He that believeth not the Son (says 
 he) shall not see life, but the wrath of God abideth on 
 him." The sentence of condemnation has gone forth 
 against the unconverted ; and justice cries: " Cut him 
 down; the wrath of God abideth on him." 
 
 In accordance with this view, the apostle Paul 
 speaks of himself and his Ephesian brethren as having 
 once been " children of wrath, even as others." That 
 is, they had once been in a state of condemnation, 
 momentarily exposed to the infliction of the Divine 
 displeasure. The universally declared design of the 
 provisions of grace substantiate the same truth. 
 
SINNERS EMBOLDENED BY FORBEARANCE. 183 
 
 Christ died to redeem us from the curse of the hiw, 
 that is, to deliver us from its condemnatory sentence. 
 We are also said to have forgiveness through his blood. 
 But forgiveness always presupposes condemnation. 
 You cannot easily conceive of a grosser insult than 
 would be conveyed by offering forgiveness to one who 
 was not condemned. Indeed, the whole burden of the 
 gospel, as a scheme of mercy, assumes that men are 
 condemned already. Every soul that implores the 
 Divine grace admits it. Every believer gives his 
 testimony to the same truth when he exultingly ex- 
 claims in the language of the apostle: " There is there- 
 fore now no condemnation to them which are in Christ 
 Jesus, who walk not after the flesh, but after the Spirit. 
 For the law of the Spirit of life in Christ Jesus hath 
 made me free from the law of sin and death." Every 
 saint who lifts his imploring eyes to Christ on the 
 bed of death and cries, ^' Even so, come. Lord Jesus, 
 come quickly," admits that he has been condemned, 
 and that he looks for mercy only through a pardon- 
 ing Saviour. Every sinner that dies in his sins, if 
 he be sensible of his condition, confesses that he "is 
 condemned already," and that " the WTath of God 
 abideth on him." 
 
 II. Tlie execution is delayed. The sentence of the 
 Divine law, though passed, is not executed speedily. 
 The only reason that can be given to show why any 
 unconverted sinner is not this moment among the 
 lost, is found in the forbearance of God. The only 
 question, then, that can be raised respecting the 
 
184 SERMON X. 
 
 treatment of one "wlio is licensed, must refer to liis 
 condemnation. If that point be once settled, and the 
 condemnatory sentence be passed, tlie criminal can 
 set up no claim i'nr the delay of the execution. The 
 very moment in which it becomes right to pronounce 
 sentence, that moment it is right to let fall the axe of 
 justice. Tills tliought is set forth in a beautifully 
 simple and perspicuous light by one of our Saviour's 
 brief parables. " A certain man (said he) had a fig- 
 tree planted in his vineyard, and he came and sought 
 fruit thereon, and found none. Then said he unto 
 the dresser of his vineyard. Behold, these three years I 
 come seeking fruit on this fig-tree, and find none ; cut 
 it down, why cumbcreth it the ground ? And he, 
 answering, said unto him, Lord, let it alone this year 
 also, till I shall dig about it and dung it, and if it 
 bear fruit, wtII ; if not, then after that thou shalt 
 cut it down." Here the barren tree represents the un- 
 converted sinner. The husbandman sparing it, and 
 coming year after year and finding no fruit, is God, 
 preferring his claims. The sentence pronounced, " cut 
 it doAvn," is the demand of justice for an immediate 
 execution of the sentence upon the ungodly. The 
 plea, " Lord, let it alone this year also," is the forbear- 
 ance of God, or the interposition of Christ to delay 
 the execution of justice. To that plea, my impenitent 
 friend, are you indebted for every day's continuance of 
 your life. On that account, alone, are you permitted 
 to visit the sanctuary instead of tenanting the prison of 
 despair ; to listen to the calls of Divine grace rather 
 
SINNERS EMBOLDENED BY FORBEARANCE. 185 
 
 than the wailings of the lost and your own groans of 
 undying agony. 
 
 III. Let us notice the influence of this forbearance. 
 Men take occasion to hay'den themselves in sin on 
 account of God's forbearance. "Because sentence 
 against an evil work is not executed speedily, there- 
 fore, the heart of the sons of men is fully set in them 
 to do evil." The expression of the thought contained 
 in this part of the text, is extremely forcible. Their 
 heart is not said to be the more inclined to evil, merely 
 on account of the delay of punishment, but their heart 
 is set in them ; yes, "fully set in them to do evil." 
 
 This mournful truth is abundantly evinced by his- 
 tory, and by daily observation. It is the nature of 
 the human heart, when indulged in its own career, to 
 lead the soul on in greater boldness in sin. Thus, the 
 wise man says, " The prosperity of fools shall destroy 
 them." Pharaoh had serious thoughts of repentance 
 and reformation, when the rod of chastisement was 
 lifted up, and the prospect was clear that he could no 
 longer be allowed to pass unpunished. But, as soon 
 as judgments were removed, and he had the prospect 
 of present impunity, he hardened his heart. Indeed, 
 through all that interesting series of providences 
 towards him, he inclined towards reformation, in every 
 instance, when his doom seemed to be hastening on, 
 and hardened his heart, in view of the delay of pun- 
 ishment. Thus, he waxed worse and worse, till sud- 
 den destruction came upon him. How often, too, have 
 we seen men in sickness, when present calamities were 
 
 16* 
 
186 SERMON X. 
 
 resting upon tlicm, and when future judgment seemed 
 impending, serious, and even anxiously inquiring what 
 thej must do to be saved ; but no sooner is health 
 restored, than they manifestly begin to grow hardened. 
 They take occasion from the prospect of long life, to 
 indulge in sin against God, and their heart becomes 
 "fully set in them to do evil." Let me ask, have you 
 not been conscious of the same influence, in your own 
 case ? Has the world never appeared dark to you ? 
 Have not calamities sometimes beclouded your earthly 
 prospects ? Has not disease sometimes led you to 
 think of the grave, and to conclude that you might soon 
 stand before God in judgment. In such seasons have 
 you not been inclined to form good resolutions and 
 mend your ways ? But what did you do when your 
 prospects brightened again, and you began to feel 
 that you might have many years of impunity, even 
 though you did spend them in sin ? You became more 
 thoughtless, and your heart was fully set in you to do 
 evil. 
 
 Your secret promises of repentance at the last, all 
 imply the same thing. Perhaps there are few persons 
 within the sound of my voice that do not sometimes 
 look forward to their death-bed, and meditate upon 
 that solemn hour. Most of you, too, probably indulge 
 the hope that, if you do not repent of your sins pre- 
 viously to that period, you will then, at least, confess 
 your guilt and seek for joardon through a crucified 
 Redeemer. Now why do you think of it as a work to 
 be performed then, instead of a duty which must 
 
SINNERS EMBOLDENED BY FORBEARANCE. 187 
 
 receive your attention at the present hour? For no 
 other reason, phiinly, except that the apparent dis- 
 tance from the hour of doom diminishes the motives 
 that act upon you. You now hope for long delay. 
 You hope that sentence will not be executed speedily. 
 You take occasion to think less of sin, and less of your 
 need of repentance, because you know that God is kind 
 and forbearing, and you hope for impunity in sin. 
 
 Our subject suggests several important lessons of 
 instruction. 
 
 1. 3Ie7i only delude themselves ivhen they resolve to 
 give due attention to their spiritual interests after they 
 shall have secured some iynportant woi^ldly objects. 
 Among the good resolutions of unconverted men, per- 
 haps there are none more common than the class now 
 referred to. They fancy that vital religion will im- 
 pede their endeavors to achieve some important secu- 
 lar end. The scholar "is afraid that the gospel, since 
 it is a check upon the ambitious spirit that now incites 
 him to action, will be unfavorable to his attainments. 
 The man of business firmly resolves that, as soon as he 
 can secure a competency, and divest himself of the 
 perplexities and temptations of business, he will give 
 due attention to his spiritual interests. The young 
 flatter themselves that, when they shall be settled in 
 the domestic state, surrounded with the happy and 
 yet grave and balancing influence of a family, they 
 will then regard the salvation of the gospel as the one 
 thing needful. 
 
 Now here is nothing but delusion in whatever light 
 
188 SERMON X. 
 
 you contemplate the subject. If you do not succeed 
 in securing these secular interests according to your 
 expectations, as you probably will not, you have 
 strengthened the habit of the delay of conversion by 
 long indulgence. If you gain your object, you will 
 probably not be satisfied with it, and so will delay 
 your attention to your soul's eternal well-being till you 
 shall have made a still greater achievement. But sup- 
 pose the best, suppose you have acquired as much 
 fame for your learning, as much renown in political 
 life, or as much wealth as satisfies you. Then you 
 have also worldly prosperity, and with it the hope of 
 a present impunity in sin. Now you are in the most 
 dangerous position of all. You resemble those of 
 whom David speaks in the 73d Psalm. " I was en- 
 vious at the foolish, when I saw," said he, '' the pros- 
 perity of the wicked ; they are not in trouble as other 
 men, neither are they plagued like other men, there- 
 fore pride compasseth them about as a chain; violence 
 covereth them as a garment. Their eyes stand out 
 with fatness ; they have more than heart can wish." 
 As surely as you succeed in placing yourself in a state 
 of prosperity, you place yourself in a condition in 
 w^hich you will be more likely to exemplify the truth 
 of our text: ''Because sentence against an evil work 
 is not executed speedily, therefore the heart of the 
 sons of men is fully set in them to do evil." 
 
 2. Oif?' subject suggests a peculiar view of the guilt 
 which attaches to the delay of repentance. You delay 
 because God is forbearing. Because your Saviour 
 
SINNERS EMBOLDENED BY FORBEARANCE. 189 
 
 has shed his blood for you, you feel safe in neglecting 
 his salvation. You rightly infer that one who would 
 make such a sacrifice to save his enemies will bear 
 long with them. If you knew that you should have 
 one offer of salvation at this hour, and never have 
 another opportunity of making your peace with God, 
 you would regard it as a most solemn and awful crisis. 
 But you hope that if you now make light of Christ, 
 yet, he is so gracious towards sinners that he will pre- 
 serve you, and will say to Justice, Spare him this year 
 also. You are aware that sin provokes his displeasure, 
 and that a refusal to accept overtures of mercy, 
 bought with his precious blood, is sin of the most 
 aggravated character; but you reflect that that same 
 Saviour was smitten in the face and spit upon, and 
 bore it with meekness ; and then, when he was cruci- 
 fied by the malignity of his enemies, he prayed for 
 them with his dying breath ; you hope, therefore, that 
 he will bear with you. You are aware that you are 
 called upon to consecrate your youth to his service ; 
 but you reflect that many have made light of Christ 
 in all their early days, and yet, through his great for- 
 bearance and grace, they have been brought late in 
 life to taste the joys of his salvation. You trifle with 
 him — you grieve him — you insult him, because you 
 know there is good reason to believe that he will bear 
 all this and still be willing to save you. What ingrati- 
 tude! what a peculiar aggravation of guilt. How 
 would all your feelings be shocked, to see one man 
 treat another in such a way on the same principles. 
 
100 SERMON X. 
 
 There is an instance in modern history that approx- 
 imates nearer to it tlian anything else in my recol- 
 lection. It is the treatment which the celebrated 
 James Crichton received from his pupil. Crichton 
 was one of the most extraordinary men which the 
 world ever produced. lie was a Scotchman by birth, 
 born about the middle of the sixteenth century, and 
 his extraordinary adventures and endowments pro- 
 cured for him the name of " The admirable Crichton." 
 At twenty years of age he had run through the whole 
 circle of the sciences, and could write and speak ten 
 languages in perfection. He visited the universities 
 on the continent, and foiled all of the learned profes- 
 sors in debate, on theses of their own choosing. He 
 was as remarkable for his bodily agility, and his 
 power in athletic exercises, as he was for the endow- 
 ments of his mind. Nor was he less distinguished for 
 elegance of manners and a singular amenity of temper. 
 While travelling in Italy, the Duke of Mantua was so 
 well pleased with him that he appointed him tutor to 
 his son, who was a youth of dissolute manners and 
 unprincipled heart. One day subsequent to this 
 appointment, while walking in the streets of Mantua, 
 Crichton was suddenly attacked by six men in masks. 
 Their number proved no defence against his dexterity 
 and strength. They Avere all disarmed. The leader 
 then threw off his mask, and, falling on his knees, beg- 
 ged for his life. It was Crichton's pupil. The aston- 
 ished master, overwhelmed with the discovery, pre- 
 sented his own weapon to his pupil, and, baring his 
 
SINNERS EMBOLDENED BY FORBEARANCE. 191 
 
 bosom, told him to take his life if he desired it. The 
 ungrateful wretch plunged the weapon to the heart of 
 Crichton. He first assailed his best friend for envy 
 of his great popularity. When the prospect was in 
 favor of summary vengeance upon himself, he could 
 beg for life, and reveal himself as his pupil, to secure 
 forbearance; when that forbearance was manifested, 
 in a most unparalleled manner, he took occasion to use 
 it against his friend. 
 
 Impenitent sinner, behold in this scene embodied 
 the very principles which actuate you in your treat- 
 ment of your Saviour. You are opposed to him at 
 first, it is true, not for envy, but it is for no more 
 worthy reason. You are opposed to Christ, because 
 his pure and holy character reproves and restrains 
 you. If you think of him at any time as about to 
 enter into judgment with you, you are ready to im- 
 plore his forbearance, and to ask for length of days, 
 that you may be prepared to meet your God. But if 
 you are in prosperity, and are thinking of that inno- 
 cent one as buffeted and insulted, without resenting 
 it ; if you view him as bleeding and praying, at the 
 same moment, for those who inflicted his wounds ; if 
 you reflect that his gracious nature will probably lead 
 him to bear long with you, then are you comforted, 
 and encouraged to treat him, if not with scorn, at 
 least with cold neglect. But there is another element 
 in this delay from the hope of impunity. You would 
 not readily allow your heart to be fully set in you to 
 do evil, if it were not for the cherished hope that you 
 
192 SERMON X. 
 
 shall apply to that very mercy which you now slight, 
 and find salvation. You coldly neglect your Saviour, 
 because he is holy and his laws will restrain you if you 
 yield to them. You tread under foot his precious 
 blood, because you are assured that sentence is not 
 executed speedily. You are encouraged farther 
 in that delay, from the confident expectation that 
 mercy may be found after the highest possible provo- 
 cation. 
 
 3. The condition of impenitent sinners is not less 
 distill guished for its pitiablenesSj than their character 
 is for its guilt. They are condemned already. They 
 are in the custody of the executioner. Why are you 
 so deeply moved with seeing a condemned criminal in 
 his cell ? The darkness of his abode tells of the 
 dreadfulness of his doom. The massive walls and 
 clanking chains speak of the impossibility of escape. 
 But, if you see him under a strong escort, fettered and 
 handcuffed, on his way to the fatal gallows, your feel- 
 ings of pity are more deeply moved. It is true, the 
 condemned and unconverted sinner is not surrounded 
 with such visible tokens of his approaching doom. 
 But he is condemned already, and the wrath of God 
 abideth on him. He that believes the gospel sees 
 him already in custody. He is on his way to execu- 
 tion. If he passes by a route ever so long and circui- 
 tous, an Almighty keeper attends him. If he turns 
 aside to the amusements of the world, the officer of 
 justice is by his side. If he laugh in the theatre, or 
 dance in the gay assembly, and you ask his keeper 
 
SINNERS EMBOLDENED BY EORBEARANCE. 193 
 
 whither he is conducting his charge, his answer is — to 
 execution, he is condemned already. If he engage 
 in his ordinary avocations, that same Almighty hand 
 is upon him, bringing him every hour nearer to the 
 execution. Does he repose upon his bed, his keeper 
 sleeps not, but remains by his charge. Does he visit 
 the sanctuary of God, he is still in custody. The 
 preacher of the gospel assures him- that he is con- 
 demned already — speaks to him of terms of mercy 
 and forgiveness, and solemnly warns him: '^ Agree 
 with thine adversary quickly, while thou art in the 
 way with him, lest he deliver thee to the judge, and 
 the judge deliver thee to the officer, and thou be cast 
 into prison." His keeper whispers to his inmost soul, 
 *' condemned already." The oilers of mercy affect 
 his heart ; yet he rises to depart from the sanctuary, 
 saying to the Saviour, '' at a more convenient season 
 I will call for thee." Then conscience, aroused, utters 
 the solemn warning : " Thus it ever is with thee, 
 made confident by impunity ; because sentence against 
 an evil work is not executed speedily, thy heart is 
 fully set in thee to do evil." Follow him in all the 
 changes of his earthly condition, yet in this, there is 
 no, change ; he is still on his way to execution. ! 
 dying sinner, that you would now turn to Christ ! 
 You should exult in his delivering grace, and exclaim : 
 " There is therefore, now, no condemnation to them 
 which are in Christ Jesus." 
 
 4. Finally^ observe that toliile Crod delays execu- 
 tion, it is done in such a way as to leave the impenitent 
 17 
 
194 SERMON X. 
 
 sinner continually in a crisis of tlie most awful hind. 
 Forbearance is exercised, but the subject of it is warned, 
 both by the word of God and by the action of Divine 
 providence, that there is not the least degree of cer- 
 tainty with regard to the period of its continuance. The 
 Psalmist, speaking to God of the state of the wicked 
 in this world, says: " Thou didst set them in slippery 
 places." The interpretation of this passage, according 
 to Pres. Edwards, is this. Sinners are represented as 
 walking upon a sloping verge, which overhangs a 
 gulf of fire. The path slopes not only, but is slippery. 
 God sets them there; that is, it is as if he passed 
 along with them, and with his hand against their foot 
 in every step kept them from sliding and falling into 
 hell. Let him that thinketh he standeth, take heed 
 lest he fall. You may seem to yourself to be in a 
 very safe position, merely because you have not fallen ; 
 and yet, if God remove his hand, you sink by your 
 own weight — sink never to rise again. Think of it, 
 dying man ; I conjure you to think of it; forbearance 
 will not last forever. 
 
SERMON XI. 
 
 THE POWER OF THE WORD OF GOD. 
 
 The prophet that hath a dream, let him tell a dream ; and 
 he that hath my word, let him speak my word faithfully. 
 What is the chaff to the wheat ? saith the Lord. Is not my 
 word like as a fire ? saith the lord ; and like a hammer that 
 BREAKETH THE ROCK IN PIECES ? — Jeremiah XXIII. 28, 29. 
 
 Power is often mightiest where there is the least 
 appearance of it. We witness daily the most stupend- 
 ous results, without the least thought of the amazing 
 energy by which they were achieved. We see the 
 excavated channel of a great river, and the up-piled 
 masses of a huge mountain, without reflecting at all 
 that — 
 
 *' The Rhone 
 Ilath spread itself a couch, 
 The Alps have reared a throne." 
 
 We think not of the vast power that wrought in 
 scooping out the one, and upheaving the other. 
 
 On the other hand, it is very common to fancy the 
 presence and action of some vast energy, where there 
 is comparatively little else than a delusive appearance. 
 When the prophet Elijah witnessed a great tempest, 
 
196 SERMON XI. 
 
 and an earthquake followed with burning fire, he re- 
 mained unmoved ; but when he heard the still, small 
 voice that betokened the Divine presence, he was awe- 
 struck, and hid his face in his mantle. 
 
 To a mind unaccustomed to commune with God, 
 those visible movements of the great agencies of na- 
 ture would have been overwhelming, and the still, 
 small voice would have been disregarded. That 
 which creates an immediate, and visible, and palpable 
 change in the things around us, is regarded as power- 
 ful ; while that which operates with a silent energy, 
 is apt to be unseen except by wise and contemplative 
 minds. In our text, the false estimate of the deluded 
 and unfaithful prophets is sought to be corrected. 
 They could tell a dream, and affix their own inter- 
 pretation, and thus fancy that they gained a great 
 influence over the people. But they did not perceive 
 that the word of God, faithfully proclaimed, would be 
 vastly more influential, and of far greater value to all 
 their true interests. " The prophet that hath a 
 dream," says God, "let him tell a dream;" that is, 
 let him employ the suggestions thence derived, ac- 
 cording to their real importance ; but do not let him 
 compare them with the clear and settled truths of 
 revelation. On the contrary, " He that hath my 
 word, let him speak my word faithfully. What is 
 the chaff to the wheat ? saith the Lord. Is not my 
 word like a fire ? saith the Lord ; and like a hammer 
 that breaketh the rock in pieces ?" 
 
 The force of the whole appeal rests on the assump- 
 
THE POWER OF THE WORD OF GOD. 197 
 
 tion that there is vast power in the revealed word of 
 God. 
 Let ME SHOW you the nature of this power, 
 
 AND suggest some OF THE METHODS BY WHICH ITS 
 GREATNESS IS EVINCED. 
 
 Every well-informed man will admit that the 
 sacred Scriptures have exercised a very great and 
 widely-extended influence. The nature of that in- 
 fluence is not SO generally appreciated. It is 
 wholly spiritual. That is to say, it is an influence 
 on mind. Remotely, indeed, it changes the phy- 
 sical condition of things. As far as it favors mental 
 culture, and creates refined sentiments, and gives 
 birth to pure human charities and heavenly de- 
 votion, it indirectly improves civilization, and its 
 external advantages. It erects temples of justice, 
 and sanctuaries of religion, and gives prominence to 
 the arts of peace, turning " swords into ploughshares 
 and spears into pruning-hooks." Still, it achieves 
 these results only by acting on the human mind — 
 moulding its character and directing its energies. 
 But, while the influence of the Bible is limited in 
 respect to the subjects of its influence — while it acts 
 directly only on the human mind — it is unlimited in 
 two important respects. It acts on all classes of 
 mind ; and it influences all our mental faculties. It 
 enlightens the understanding. It presents to the 
 contemplation objects that are at once elevated, pure, 
 and endlessly diversified. It furnishes a vast amount 
 of information in regard to the character of God, the 
 
 17* 
 
198 SERMON xr, 
 
 nature of man, the origin and destiny of the race^ 
 and the best methods of securing the well-being of 
 communities and individuals. It develops and ¥ecti- 
 fies the human conscience, furnishing a moral code 
 that commends itself to our nature, and enforcing it 
 by adequate motives. It solicits the affections of the 
 human heart, by presenting objects of the purest 
 moral beauty. It aims to control the will, by reveal- 
 ing the authority of God, the sanctions of his law^ 
 and the methods of his grace. In short, the word of 
 God asserts an absolute supremacy over all the powers 
 and faculties of the human mind. 
 
 Nor is the Bible, like most other books, limited to 
 a particular class and order of minds. A book that 
 should set forth the exact sciences in the most clear 
 and beautiful light, would be utterly inefficacious in 
 its influence on a large class of minds. A philoso- 
 phical treatise of superior excellence and fine adapta- 
 tion to persons of a cultivated intellect, would exercise 
 no influence on multitudes that possess less compass 
 of understanding. But the Bible is adapted to all 
 classes. It has simple narrative and infant biogra- 
 phies, and lofty sentiments, and profound doctrines, 
 wrapped up in the tragical story of the cross, to 
 interest childhood and untaught adults. It has sub- 
 lime and beautiful poetry for the imaginative. It has 
 pointed and weighty apothegms to aAvaken reflection. 
 It has deep logical discussions, and an immense field for 
 critical and philosophical study for the learned. Its 
 sixty-six books, written by at least thirty-five different 
 
THE POWER OF THE WORD OF GOD. 199 
 
 autlioi^s, and extending through a period of fifteen 
 centuries, have secured a vast variety of style. There 
 is also a remarkable variety in the characters, em- 
 ployments, and circumstances of the writers. Among 
 them we have one educated as a statesman in the 
 court of a great monarch ; another brought up as an 
 ecclesiastic from his infancy, and possessing such 
 capacity as caused him, in his youth, to be regarded 
 as the guiding mind for the whole Hebrew common- 
 wealth. Two royal poets, a gifted father, and a more 
 learned, and wise, and cultivated son, arrayed the 
 truth of God in kingly robes. Herdsmen set it forth 
 in rustic simplicity. Unlearned fishermen told the 
 story of the birth and life, the miracles, and death, 
 and resurrection of the Son of God, and recorded the 
 parables and conversations of him who " spake as 
 never man spake." An accomplished scholar and 
 beloved physician penned the narrative of the first 
 dissemination of Christianity by the apostles, while a 
 profound dialectician drew out in his homiletic epis- 
 tles the great principles of systematic theology, and 
 the transcendental deep-thinking John set forth the 
 life-principles of Christianity, in a manner that will 
 always give plenty of employment to those who love 
 to contemplate truth in a mystic garb. 
 
 These varieties in revelation, like the varieties in 
 nature, have adaptation to all classes and orders of 
 mind. Hence there is no book so popular in its cha- 
 racter as the Bible. It is relished and comprehended 
 by the feeblest minds. It furnishes exhaustless 
 
200 SERMON XL 
 
 themes for the profoundest geniuses. In its limpid 
 ^vate^s, a lamb may safely wade and seek refresh- 
 ment ; in its depth, an elephant may swim. 
 
 The kind of power claimed for the sacred Scrip- 
 tures, then, be it remembered, is a spiritual power, 
 an influence on mind. The domain over which this 
 influence extends itself is unlimited in two respects. 
 Firsts it asserts its supremacy over all the faculties 
 of the human soul. Second^ it adapts itself to minds 
 of all classes. 
 
 Let me solicit your attention, now, to some of the 
 indications of the greatness of this power. I will 
 speak first of the general influence of the word of 
 God, and then of its power over individuals. Divine 
 revelation has exerted an influence to impress upon a 
 vast mass of minds common sentiments, and, also, to 
 secure the growth and perpetuation of such sentiments. 
 
 This power is the more remarkable, in proportion 
 to the resistance which it was necessary to overcome. 
 When the first books of holy Scripture, the Penta- 
 teuch, w^ere issued, it is manifest that their primary 
 aim was to oppose idolatry. Idol-worship had en- 
 trenched itself in every great city. A grovelling 
 sensuality loved licentious gods and goddesses. The 
 refinements of art endeared it to one class; the 
 charms of poetry commended it to another ; and a 
 grovelling superstition pervaded all nations. The 
 propensities that led to idolatry were powerful to 
 perpetuate it. The priests and learned men main- 
 tained their ascendency by pandering to the super- 
 
THE POWER OF THE WORD OE GOD. 201 
 
 stition of the people ; the shrine-makers had their 
 bread by their craft. 
 
 Yet the decalogue makes an assault upon idolatry, 
 and the whole Jewish institute is constructed to op- 
 pose it. The progress was slow. The Jewish mind 
 itself was deeply tinged with the prevailing polytheism. 
 But the decalogue maintained its authority. The law 
 which made it imperative on parents to imbue the 
 minds of their children with the ten commandments, 
 by a perpetual inculcation, augmented its power over 
 the people. The successive revelations of the pro- 
 phets expanded and illustrated the principles con- 
 tained in the earlier books of Scripture. The advance 
 of the Hebrew state to its acme, in the splendid 
 reign of Solomon, and the erection of the magnifi- 
 cent temple, imparted a public, visible honor to the 
 pure theism of the sacred writings. The conflict of 
 the Jewish people with their heathen neighbors, and 
 especially their captivities, and their pensive songs 
 by the rivers of Babylon, endeared to them the dis- 
 tinctive characteristics of the religion of their fathers. 
 
 When they had thus become determined in their 
 resistance to idolatry, the great conquering power of 
 the world, the Romans, took possession of Palestine, 
 and the synagogue, with its book of the law^ and its 
 prophetic rolls, bore a feeble, but constant testimony, 
 in a thousand little points of radiance, all over that 
 mighty empire. Then came Christianity, with its 
 augmented light, completing the whole volume of ro 
 velation within a single century. 
 
202 SERMON XI. 
 
 And now the word of God begins to display its mighty 
 power. It assails idolatry where it has concentrated 
 its force, more than it had ever done, in any place, dur- 
 ing the whole of the world's history. Idolatry was 
 the religion of the most cultivated people on earth. 
 It was inwoven with a classic literature of most extra- 
 ordinary character. The Romans had, just before, 
 taken into their possession those writings of the Gre- 
 cian orators, and poets, and historians, and philoso- 
 phers, which have ever since defied all competition in 
 respect to their classical beauty and finish. By the 
 help of these they had advanced their own majestic 
 tongue to its highest cultivation. Into all this ele- 
 gant literature there was breathed as base a polythe- 
 ism as ever degraded a polished mind. This same 
 polytheism was, also, the religion of the state. It 
 seated itself with gorgeous and solemn pomp in the 
 senate chamber; it approached the emperor with art- 
 ful flattery, and promised him a glorious apotheosis, 
 a place among the gods, as one justly entitled to be 
 worshipped. Idolatry was the old religion of the 
 wdiole Roman people ; the religion under which its 
 victories had been achieved, and its greatness attain- 
 ed. It was loved by the multitude, praised by the 
 poets, endeared by flatteries to the emperor, and de- 
 fended by the conquering legions. Yet, did the 
 word of God, as a fire and a hammer, break in pieces 
 that mighty iron power of idolatry. 
 
 It is sufficiently obvious that it was the word of 
 
THE POWER OF THE WORD OF GOD. 203 
 
 God, and nothing else, which accomplished this re- 
 sult. 
 
 It is worthy of being noticed in this connection, 
 also, that another effective force was brought to act 
 against idolatry, which, though not so directly from 
 the influence of the word of God, cannot be im- 
 puted to any other primary source. I mean the 
 Mohammedan power. The Arabs were the cousins 
 of the Jews, and partook of the characteristics of the 
 Hebrew stock. When Ishmael was sent away, he 
 doubtless bore with him some of those constitutional 
 tendencies to theism, which were among the reasons 
 for selecting and calling Abraham. 
 
 The mission of Abraham was to give a death-blow 
 to idolatry. Isaac was the chief branch in the family 
 for accomplishing the work. But Ishmael inherited 
 some of his father's idol hatred. His posterity, it is 
 true, fell into idol worship ; but, then, they never 
 lost the tendency to theism, and when Mohammed 
 borrowed from Judaism and Christianity the doctrine 
 of the Divine unity, he easily moulded the Ishmaelitish 
 stock into his doctrines. 
 
 What the word of God has achieved, in this respect, 
 it has perpetuated. The Jews and the Mohammedans 
 are, to-day, as firm in their resistance of idolatry as 
 they ever have been in any former period of their 
 history. It is true, there has been a reactive force 
 towards idolatry, on the area of the old Roman em- 
 pire, as indicated in the images in Christian churches, 
 and the worship of the mother of Jesus ; but this 
 
204 SERMON XI. 
 
 could only take place wlien the Bible was locked up 
 in the cloister, and forbidden to the common people; 
 but the word of God could not be bound. Wickliff, 
 and the Monk of Erfurth, Ileuklin, and Melancthon, 
 Calvin, and Farel, and Zuingle, and Knox, read the 
 word of God, and it kindled a fire in their souls. 
 They gave it to the people, and, wherever it went, 
 the altars of an idolatrous Christianity crumbled, and 
 the images of the saints were ground to powder. As 
 a result of this attainment, the Christian world is 
 now assailing, in an effective manner, the idolatry of 
 every heathen nation. No idolatrous people, now on 
 the earth, can be called a conquering people. No 
 system of idol-worship possesses the spirit of propa- 
 gandism. The Romish church is not, strictly speak- 
 ing, an idolatrous power. Its state is like that of 
 Jacob's family, when Rachel hid the images among 
 her travelling baggage, or like that of the children of 
 Israel, when they danced around the golden calf, with- 
 out abandoning the worship of Jehovah as the only 
 supreme God. They were struggling with idolatrous 
 tendencies, tendencies which were destined, one day, 
 to be overcome. So the Romish church has always 
 carried in her bosom a repellent force, that shall, one 
 day, secure the putting away of all her idols. Pro- 
 testantism itself, with all its active energy, grew out 
 of these tendencies in the mother church. The reac- 
 tion from the impostures respecting the holy coat of 
 Treves, the march of science, and of political liberty, 
 and the mixing of Romanists with enlightened people 
 
THE POWER OF THE WORD OF GOD. 205 
 
 in Protestant countries ; all these things are limiting 
 the power of the idolatrous tendencies in the church; 
 and the time cannot be far distant, when the whole of 
 Christendom shall be as free from idols as the Jewish 
 and Mohammedan races are to-day. 
 
 The reason why the Christian church is tinged with 
 this form of error is obvious. In the first four centuries 
 of the Christian era, idolaters were brought into the 
 church by such rapid conversions, that multitudes im- 
 ported with them a measure of that love of image- 
 worship, in which they had been bred and born. 
 
 There is another impression which the word of God 
 has made upon immense masses of mind, and which 
 it has perpetuated to the present time ; I mean the 
 law of marriage. Polygamy and idolatry have always 
 been united ; their union is not accidental ; they pos- 
 sess mutual affinities. The gods and goddesses of the 
 heathen are distinguished for their licentiousness. 
 Polygamy, and a general concubinage, naturally grow 
 up out of idolatry, while, by a reciprocal tendency, 
 licentiousness conduces to the worship of voluptuous 
 divinities. The word of God from the beginning, 
 and by the very history of the first pair, repressed 
 this tendency. The progress was slow, it is true, 
 during the existence of the Jewish dispensation ; but 
 still, there was progress, and our Saviour's teachings 
 in respect to marriage and divorce, and Paul's Epis- 
 tles, in settling the practice of the primordial Christ- 
 ian church, laid the foundation of a new public sen- 
 timent in respect to polygamy, and the proper, and 
 18 
 
206 SERMON XL 
 
 life-long connection of one man and one Tvoman Ly 
 the sacred bonds of Christian marriage ; it is true, 
 this sentiment is not so widely extended as that which 
 has respect to idolatrous worship ; for, pure as was 
 the Mohammedan religion in respect to one object of 
 worship, it had not sufficient moral purity and force 
 to resist the tendencies to polygamy in the oriental 
 mind. But, wherever the whole word of God has 
 gone, with its accompanying Christian institutions, it 
 has created and established the general impression, that 
 the marriage of one man with one woman is divinely 
 authorized, and that all other alliances of the sexes 
 are an offence against good morals. That there are 
 multiplied violations of this law in Christendom is 
 not, indeed, denied ; but it is, nevertheless, an indica- 
 tion of the mighty power of the word of God, that it 
 has created this law of marriage and impressed it so 
 widely, and given it such a sanctuary in social life, 
 and armed all the governments of Christendom in its 
 defence. 
 
 The power of the word of God is not less clearly 
 indicated in the influence which it has infused into 
 civil government. The decalogue, and that portion 
 of the civil code of the Jews, under the theocracy, 
 which grew out of the decalogue, exercise a leading 
 influence in all constitutional Christian governments. 
 Nor can there be any doubt that everything worthy 
 of the name of civil liberty has its origin in the word 
 of God. The government of the judges^, during the 
 period of the Hebrew commonwealth, was the first 
 
THE POWER OF THE WORD OF GOD. 207 
 
 experiment of which we know anything of a free 
 government. There, all the people, except a small 
 number of domestic servants, whose condition was 
 very much like that of minor children in the family, 
 all the people, with this trifling exception, were in the 
 enjoyment of equal rights. The government was 
 strictly elective, and qualifications rather than birth 
 placed men in all the offices of the state. The des- 
 potisms by which that little hated Palestine was sur- 
 rounded were most iron-handed governments. The 
 Grecian republic was not much better. We are de- 
 ceived by the name of a republic, till we reflect that 
 when the population of Attica consisted of five hun- 
 dred thousand, there were only twenty thousand free 
 citizens managing and enjoying the government for 
 themselves. That is to say, more than twenty human 
 beings, subjects of the government, labored for the 
 support of each free citizen. The democracy of 
 Athens difi'ered from a monarchy only in this : twenty 
 thousand autocrats were to be supported by the people 
 instead of a single royal family. 
 
 After the example of a free elective government 
 had been exhibited in the Hebrew commonwealth for 
 four centuries, the word of God achieved nothing 
 directly for civil liberty till the church gradually 
 absorbed into itself the power of the western empire. 
 When the western empire was subverted by the incur- 
 sions of the Northmen, the church softened the power 
 of the conquerors, and lined with velvet the yoke 
 which it could not at first break or remove. As the 
 
208 SERxMON XI. 
 
 church gained in power she created a despotism of her 
 own ; but it was a milder despotism than the secular 
 powers with which it was in conflict. 
 
 Let me pause here, one moment, to remark on a 
 general delusion which exists in respect to the despo- 
 tism of the Romish church. Despotic and cruel, in- 
 deed, it is, in comparison with English monarchy and 
 American republicanism. But Popery was a mild, 
 and gentle, and people-loving government compared 
 w^ith the insolence and selfishness of the old barons, 
 and kings, and the powers of the empire. In the old 
 Guelph and Ghibeline controversy there was more of 
 right, or at least less of selfish ambition in the Guelph 
 than in the Ghibeline party; there was more regard 
 for the popular well-being in the church than in the 
 empire. Hence, though a haughty and imperious am- 
 bition dictated the act when the Roman pontiff placed 
 his foot on the neck of the prostrate monarchy apply- 
 ing to himself the prediction found in the ninety-first 
 Psalm, " Thou shalt tread upon the lion and adder," 
 still, it was true that of the two despotisms that ruled in 
 Christendom the gentler oi:^ then had the- ascendency. 
 
 But no sooner had the Bible been brought out to 
 the people thaa the cause of civil liberty began to 
 revive. 
 
 Any one at all acquainted with history can see that 
 the British constitution is the product of the word of 
 God. Our own free republic sprang up most mani- 
 festly and directly from the same source. There was 
 a remarkable analogy between our government and 
 
THE POWER OF THE WORD OF GOD. 209 
 
 that of the Hebrew commonwealth. Like that, it 
 consisted originally of thirteen States, including 
 twelve tribes and the half tribe of Manasseh, united 
 in one general government. So constant were the 
 allusions to Israelitish liberty in our colonies that a 
 member of our Congress once remarked that, in his 
 native New England, during the years of boyhood, 
 he had no other idea than that we, as a people, were 
 the real literal Israel of which he had read in the Old 
 Testament. 
 
 It ought to be mentioned in this connection that 
 the power of the word of God is indicated by the fact 
 that it has passed along in the current of the most 
 vigorous races, and swayed most perfectly those na- 
 tions which possess the greatest power. The Bible 
 began its work in a race of inconsiderable culture. 
 But it raised the Jewish people in no inconsiderable 
 degree. Then it seized on the Roman mind and mas- 
 tered it. Thence it entered the households of the 
 Northmen, in the garb of a conquered power, and 
 Christianized its masters. When it made its way out 
 of the monastery it acted not on effeminate Chinese, 
 or indolent and unthinking Hindoos. On the con- 
 trary, it laid hold of the German, the English, and 
 the Scottish mind. Into this vigorous mass it has 
 infused a mighty power. It has imbued their litera- 
 ture, gained a sway over their universities, moulded 
 their social and civil institutions, and given character 
 to their worship. 
 
 Nor is the power of the Bible less conspicuous in 
 
 18* 
 
210 SERMON XI. 
 
 its influence on individuals. See its action on Saul 
 of Tarsus. His mind certainly was no ordinary one. 
 He was acute, educated, and firm of purpose. As a 
 religionist he was zealous, and pledged to oppose 
 Christianity. He was exceedingly mad against the 
 church, and verily believed that he ought to do many 
 things contrary to Jesus of Nazareth. He was proud 
 and self-sufficient, and fancied that he could justify 
 himself before God by his shining virtues. Yet all 
 this opposition was subdued. He was made to glory 
 in nothing but the cross, and to count not even his 
 life dear to him if he might successfully publish the 
 gospel. 
 
 Augustine was another instance illustrating the 
 power of the word of God. He was famous already 
 for his learning, and equally famous for his pride and 
 self-consequence, till the word of God, accompanied 
 by a mother's prayers, constrained him to bring all 
 his high mental endowments, and learning, and influ- 
 ence, and lay them on the altar of Christianity. 
 Place beside these such minds as those of Grotius, 
 and Melancthon, and Luther, and Calvin, and Boyle, 
 and Bacon, and Locke, and Cuvier, and Brougham, 
 and Chalmers ; and who can doubt that there is a 
 mighty power in the word of God ? These great 
 minds did not embrace Christianity as a matter of 
 policy, as many ambitious ecclesiastics have done. 
 On the contrary, the Bible commanded their faith, 
 and controlled their mental powers. By a similar 
 power, the sacred Scriptures have met the most stub- 
 
THE POWER OF THE WORD OF GOD. 211 
 
 born and gifted unbelievers; and even many who 
 united vicious propensities with their scepticism, and 
 changed them into humble and teachable disciples of 
 Christ. 
 
 To all this might be added the wonderful influence 
 of the word of God in sustaining men in suffering, 
 and in death. But I hasten to conclude, with briefly 
 remarking on the power of the Bible to multiply and 
 spread itself. There are plants in our botany that 
 possess a remarkable power of self-semination. Some 
 are inclosed in a pericarp that bursts with an elastic 
 spring, and throws the seed in every direction, and to 
 a great distance. Other seeds are mounted on wings, 
 by which they are borne on the winds to distant 
 localities. The Divine providence has an analogous 
 contrivance in the power of the Bible to secure its 
 dissemination. Its truths spring up and ripen in 
 individual minds. They generate dispositions to 
 spread the word of God. The Bible has made Bible 
 Societies. The Bible has called forth Bible distri- 
 butors. The Bible has awakened a liberal spirit and 
 unclasped a thousand hands of avarice, to furnish 
 means for translating, printing, and disseminating the 
 word of God. The Bible is ordained to give itself to 
 all nations, to plant itself in every family, to take 
 possession of every mind. Its power is ultimately to 
 achieve a conquest over the human race. Who of 
 you will help it, by your contributions, your prayers, 
 your inculcations of its holy doctrines ? Take cou- 
 rage in your work. The word of God is not bound. 
 
212 SERMON xr. 
 
 It goes forth from conquering to conquer. Its pro- 
 gress, in some respects, is slow. It has enemies still 
 to contend with. The powers of darkness will not 
 yield merely because idolatry has received a death- 
 blow, and social life is becoming sweetened by the 
 prevalence of a just law in relation to marriage ; nor 
 because civil liberty has received its life from the 
 Bible. Pseudo-philanthropists and smatterers in sci- 
 ence will assail it as a good book that has lived long 
 and done well ; but as a book which has had its day. 
 They will propose an eclectic system of morality and 
 religion. They will allow Christian precepts to be its 
 basis, because these have acquired too much honor to 
 be openly despised. The battle with this mongrel 
 system of religion and philosophy is the last conflict. 
 The best way to meet it is to spread the word of God. 
 Put it into the hands of all the people. It will work 
 its own way. It is as a fire, and as a hammer that 
 breaketh the rock in pieces. Meantime let us see to 
 it, as individuals, that we receive the Divine word in 
 its simplicity into our hearts. It will mould our cha- 
 racters. It will sanctify our souls. It will be in us a 
 w^ell of water, springing up into everlasting life. The 
 Bible contains a full supply for all your wants, as a 
 moral, an accountable, and an immortal being. It 
 can break up the slumbers of a self-complacent spirit, 
 by the power of its holy and heart-searching law. It 
 reveals a bleeding Saviour, and leads you to his cross 
 for pardon. It directs you to plead for the illumina- 
 tions of the Divine Spirit. Yet, with all its power, 
 
THE POWER OF THE WORD OP GOD. 213 
 
 it has created no necessity for your salvation. It 
 can enlighten benighted minds ; and you, as an indi- 
 vidual, may grope in spiritual midnight. It may 
 inspire others with hopes of glory, and you may be 
 wrapped in eternal despair. You may behold, and 
 wonder, and perish. 
 
SERMON XII. 
 
 A father's influence. 
 
 But as for me and my house, we will serve the Loud, — 
 Joshua XXIV. 15. 
 
 What a noble resolution ! At any time such a 
 purpose would do honor to the heart that should adopt 
 it. But at the time, and in the circumstances, in 
 which this purpose was announced, it Avas a delightful 
 instance of godliness and manly zeal. 
 
 The people of Israel had just passed through a se- 
 ries of peculiar trials and temptations, and were now 
 about to enter upon a condition which, above all others, 
 is apt to become a snare to the careless. They were 
 entering upon their goodly land, and confidently an- 
 ticipating the utmost prosperity. Under these cir- 
 cumstances, Joshua recounted to them the Divine 
 mercies, in delivering them from their enemies, and 
 in bringing them to the peaceful possession of their 
 promised inheritance. "Now, therefore," said he, 
 "fear the Lord, and serve him in sincerity and truth: 
 and put away the gods which your fathers served on 
 the other side of the flood, and in Egypt; and 
 serve ye the Lord. And if it seem evil unto you 
 
A father's influence. 215 
 
 to serve the Lord, choose you this day whom ye will 
 serve ; whether the gods which your fathers served, 
 that were on the other side of the flood, or the gods 
 of the Amorites in whose land ye dwell : but as for 
 me and my house, we will serve the Lord." The 
 propriety of one's resolving, in humble reliance on 
 Divine grace, to serve the Lord, will scarcely be ques- 
 tioned by any that have been instructed in the doc- 
 trines and precepts of Christianity. But the wisdom 
 of associating one's family with himself, and pledg- 
 ing himself alike for his own future character, and 
 that of his household, will appear to many as a more 
 doubtful matter ; yet, I hope, when the influences for 
 securing such a result shall have been fully set forth, 
 the Christian father will be enabled to speak confi- 
 dently, both for himself and for his children, and to 
 say, with Joshua, " As for me and my house, we will 
 serve the Lord." Our subject is, 
 
 THE POWER OF A FATHER TO BLESS HIS FAMILY. 
 
 In the prosecution of my design, I shall be led to 
 speak of the structure of family government : the se- 
 curities that exist against the abuses of its powers 
 and privileges : the identity of household interests : 
 the advantao-es of a father for formino- the character 
 of his children by instruction, and the promised aids 
 of the Holy Spirit. The father of a family occupies 
 a station full of dignity and honor. To his household 
 he is, in a more important sense than Moses was to 
 the people of Israel, in the place of God. Though in 
 
216 SERMON XII. 
 
 the elevation of his being and character, infinitely 
 below his Maker, he holds relations to his offspring 
 strikingly analogous to those of Creator, Lawgiver, 
 and Judge. They depend on him, implicitly, to sup- 
 ply their daily wants ; and regard him as the source 
 of all authority, and all right instruction. These 
 analogies impart a solemnity to paternal authority, 
 and give to it a sway which thousands feel, without 
 ever having analyzed the influence that thus binds 
 them as with a secret and mysterious spell. 
 
 As the head of a little kingdom, the father com- 
 mences the exercise of his government over an empire 
 of very limited extent. His authority is commonly 
 exerted, in the first instance, over a solitary child. 
 While the affairs of his realm are in this nascent and 
 simple state, he has the advantage of leisure for a 
 calm self-discipline, and for deliberately settling great 
 first principles. As his subjects become more nume- 
 rous, and some of them are advancing into the regions 
 of independent thought and action, his work becomes 
 more complicated and difficult. It would now afford 
 scope for the wisdom and accomplishments of Solo- 
 mon ; and really demands the lofty purpose and un- 
 complying firmness of Joshua, when he exclaimed, 
 "■ As for me and my house, we will serve the Lord." 
 Paternal government, according to the constitution 
 wiiich God has given it, is a wonderful instrument. 
 It brino;s together and holds in harmonious action 
 principles, which, under every other kind of earthly 
 dominion, are destructive of one another. It is at 
 
A father's influence. 217 
 
 once absolute and flexible, invested with awful power, 
 and yet breathing a spirit of gentleness. Its pecu- 
 liarities, however, may be most happily portrayed by 
 comparing it with the modes of government that have 
 obtained in other relations. 
 
 For the exercise of civil rule God has not ordained 
 any specific form. It may be a monarchy, absolute 
 or mixed. It may be an oligarchy, in which the few 
 of a privileged class govern the many. It may be a 
 representative popular government, like our own : or, 
 it may be a pure democracy, originating all laws, 
 and framing all important decisions in the primary 
 assemblies of the people. Some of these forms, it is 
 true, are less liable to abuse than others. But they 
 are all begirt with dangers. A vigorous sustentation 
 of authority may be easily hardened into an iron 
 despotism. The love of freedom may with equal fa- 
 cility degenerate into licentious misrule, terminating 
 in the horrors of anarchy. Civil government, then, 
 is not a single divinely constituted mode of exerting 
 good influences. It is rather an ever-varying result 
 of the various feelings, and principles, and characters 
 of the nations. 
 
 In contrast with this, household government stands 
 forth as a Divine institute. Like a machine constituted 
 independently of the material upon which it is des- 
 tined to act, it is prepared before its subjects are in 
 being, and then they are created, and brought and 
 placed under its dominion successively, one by one, to 
 be controlled and moulded by its influence. 
 19 
 
218 SERMON xir. 
 
 If the government of the family be compared Avith 
 that of the church, the result is not dissimilar. 
 
 No exact and divinely authorized form of ecclesias- 
 tical polity has been given to mankind. General prin- 
 ciples only, in relation to this subject, are set forth in 
 the sacred Scriptures. The parity of the clergy is 
 maintained. Ministers of the word are required to 
 be faithful as the bishops of their own congregations, 
 and if they obtain any distinction among their breth- 
 ren, they are at liberty to seek it only by becoming 
 more manifestly the servants of all, and by surpassing 
 others in works of humility, benevolence, and self- 
 denial. The right of acting by representation, also, 
 is clearly recognized in the appointments made by the 
 first Christian churches, both of officers to act for 
 them in discipline, and also of spiritual teachers to 
 given fields of missionary labor, and to special commis- 
 sions of almsgiving to destitute and distant churches. 
 But in the Scriptures there are no enactments laying 
 down a detailed form of ecclesiastical government. 
 Indeed, it is quite manifest that God intended no such 
 thing, from the undeniable fact that the principal 
 portion of the church, in every Christian country, has 
 taken on a form analo<]rous to the civil organization un- 
 der which it exists. In despotic countries, it is mainly 
 papal ; in the monarchy of England, prelatical ; and, 
 in this country, the tendency is nearly as strong to- 
 wards some modification of presbytery. It is true, 
 the character of civil government, in various parts of 
 Christendom, may have been formed, in a considerable 
 
A father's influence. 219 
 
 degree, by the previously existing ecclesiastical go- 
 vernments. It is equally obvious, however, that the 
 ecclesiastical has been modified by the civil. They 
 act reciprocally upon each other. In this interaction, 
 sometimes one predominates, and sometimes the other ; 
 but, after all the experience and investigations of men, 
 for centuries, there seems to be no tendency even to- 
 wards a uniform system of church government, as 
 sustained in all its peculiarities by the authority of 
 God ; on the contrary, in every church w^here freedom 
 of thought prevails to any considerable extent, there 
 is a portion, and that the more intelligent and liberal 
 portion, which maintains that even its own chosen 
 system of ecclesiastical polity cannot be sustained as 
 divinely authorized in all its details. 
 
 But there is a broad and palpable distinction be- 
 tween both of these kinds of government, civil and 
 ecclesiastical on the one hand, and family government 
 on the other. 
 
 Family government is by a Divine right. Its form 
 is that of an absolute monarchy. The father is a 
 sovereign. His will is law, and from his decisions 
 there is no appeal. The entire interests of the house- 
 hold are under his control. The subjects are all 
 peers. Among them there are no inequalities of 
 rights ; no oflSces. The superiority of influence which 
 belongs to some members, arises only from seniority, 
 and a consequently superior advancement in expe- 
 rience, and in wisdom, and virtue. There can be no 
 question that such a government is divinely consti- 
 
220 SERxMON XII. 
 
 tuted. The monarch, by the vast superiority of his 
 age and physical vigor, as Tvell as by the maturity of 
 his intellectual powers, and his heartfelt interest in 
 the well-being of the household, is best fitted to 
 govern. Obligated by marriage vows, and solemnly 
 installed in the headship of his government, he goes 
 forth from the matrimonial altar as Abraham did 
 from his kindred, trusting to a Divine promise that 
 subjects shall be given him over whom he may exer- 
 cise his kingly power. Nor are the indications of 
 Divine providence less clear in regard to the relative 
 position of the governed. They are under the abso- 
 lute necessity of being directed by a mind superior to 
 their own ; and hence their circumstances necessarily 
 create a sense of dependence. 
 
 The government thus constituted, though it secures 
 the highest possible degree of human authority, and 
 is perfectly despotic in its form, is yet wonderfully 
 protected against the tyrannical exercise of power, and 
 the abuse of privileges. To protect the subjects, 
 there is associated with this absolute control of the 
 monarch a peculiar and bland medium of governmental 
 influence ; a power equally absolute over the governed, 
 and yet more gentle in its action. The mother soft- 
 ens the exercise of authority, and enhances all the 
 motives to obedience by the place wdiich she holds in 
 the confidence and affection of both parties. The 
 mother, more than the father, leads the children to 
 the fountains of instruction, and is in closer compan- 
 ionship with them in early life. She is to the house- 
 
A father's influence. 221 
 
 hold what Joseph was to the realm of Pharaoh, the 
 direct administrator of the government, the dispenser 
 of its chief blessings, and the conservator of its in- 
 terests during the earlier and most important crisis of 
 its history. The occasional immediate exercise of 
 paternal authority augments the dignity of her rule, 
 while she sustains the father's supremacy by her own 
 perpetual sway, in connection with her example of sub- 
 mission to the same authority. " Wives, submit your- 
 selves to your own husbands," says an inspired apostle, 
 adding as a motive for so doing, '^ as it is fit in the 
 Lord." Can it be doubted that a principal ground of 
 that fitness is found in these two considerations, viz. : 
 first, such a submission renders the highest govern- 
 mental authority one; and, therefore, absolutely in- 
 capable of divided counsels ; and, secondly, the 
 government is thus sustained by the peculiar and 
 mighty influence of an example of submission to its 
 authority in a high place. 
 
 A still stronger security against the abuse of power 
 is laid in the affections of the ruler. Although 
 clothed with an authority which, if perverted, might 
 render him the most merciless of all tyrants, yet, 
 such is the influence of parental affection, that chil- 
 dren are quite as liable to be injured by an over-fond 
 indulgence, as by an undue severity. 
 
 The abuse of privileges is equally guarded against 
 in the relative position of the governed. The feeble- 
 ness and dependence of the subjects, not less than the 
 power of the ruler secure a non-revolutionary state. 
 
 19* 
 
222 SERMON xir- 
 
 During a period of nearly six thousand years, embrac- 
 ing the history of millions of these little dynasties, not 
 a solitary case has arisen, in which internal peace has 
 been marred by the tumults and strifes of a popular 
 election. God has appointed and defined the govern- 
 ing power in a manner so marked, that none are able 
 to call it in question, much less to meditate its over- 
 throw. Nor has an instance occurred in which the 
 weakest and worst has by low cunning and sly dema- 
 gogical arts placed himself at the head of the govern- 
 ment in its incipiency, and henceforth controlled it 
 and moulded its character. The unity of the govern- 
 ing power, and its strength, surpassing as it does the 
 combined power of all the subjects, discourage, at 
 once, every idea of revolt. Moreover, if tempted to 
 such an act, obligations of gratitude and love towards 
 the powers that be, forbid it. Instances of filial ingra- 
 titude when approaching the period of manhood, and 
 just merging from domestic to civil government, are not 
 inconsistent with the foregoing statements. They are 
 only mournful proofs that the powers of the govern- 
 ment were not properly wielded when they had the 
 advantage of their own early vigor, and of the infan- 
 tile feebleness of the governed. 
 
 The family is the most perfect government on 
 earth. It is the nursery in which the immortal being 
 receives its first impressions of obligations and author- 
 ity, of law and its sanctions. It is the arena where it 
 is first trained before it is allowed to go forth under 
 ecclesiastical and civil dominion ; where God leaves the 
 
A father's influence. 223 
 
 human mind to a severer probation, to wrestle with 
 peculiar temptations and to enjoy greater freedom by 
 being subjected to greater hazards. Family govern- 
 ment, far more than any other, is analogous to the 
 government of God. Like his, it has one monarch, 
 one lawgiver, and one judge, and all united in the 
 same person. Like his, it has one mediatorial influ- 
 ence, at the same time wielding the authority of the gov- 
 ernment, and yet feeling the tenderest sympathy by 
 a peculiarly close union with the subjects. Like his, 
 the principal element of its power is love. Indeed, 
 family government is the government of God epitom- 
 ized. It is the government of God adapted to child- 
 hood, by its objects addressing themselves to the 
 senses, and by the nearness and visibility of its influ- 
 ences. The principles to which it is intended to give 
 birth in the bosoms of the subjects are eternal. The 
 habits which it engenders are immortal as the nature 
 that imbibes them. What limit, then, can be set to 
 the power for good which is intrusted to the hands of 
 a father ? 
 
 Yet we may be more deeply impressed with the 
 extent of this power by contemplating the identity of 
 the interests of a household. Like the members of 
 the human body, the members of a family are closely 
 united. Their characters, their interests, their sym- 
 pathies, are so interlinked that one cannot sufi'er with- 
 out the others sufi'ering with it. If the father himself 
 exert his high authority to conduct his elder children 
 along with himself in a right direction, a current will 
 
224 SERMON XII. 
 
 be created and a channel worn, along which all the 
 household will be drawn towards the same quiet desira- 
 ble haven. Thus paternal power wisely exerted, will 
 be continually augmented by its exercise, till it yields 
 up its individual subjects to become respectively the 
 heads of similar governments, which in their turn 
 shall multiply the numbers of useful and happy fami- 
 lies. 
 
 Distinct from the influence of supreme authority, 
 the father possesses another power of inestimable 
 value ; the power to instruct his offspring. The in- 
 fluence of authority and the influence of instruction 
 are clearly distinguishable ; yet each implies some 
 degree of the other. " Authority is that right to 
 command which imposes an obligation to obey." 
 Some instruction, with reference to law and its 
 sanctions, and the nature of the governing power, is 
 indispensable to a proper susceptibility of being in- 
 fluenced by authority ; and yet the sway of authority 
 differs from the direct influence of instruction. Au- 
 thority may compel the mind to pause and receive 
 moral enlightenment, and authority is that, in direct 
 view of which the mind always acts, when it goes 
 forth in the way of obedience. But instruction is the 
 liberalizing power that renders the reverence for au- 
 thority more profound, and suggests a thousand inci- 
 dental motives for the performance of noble deeds, 
 and the cultivation of excellent and lofty principles. 
 Indeed, character cannot be well formed, and adorned 
 with its deeper and richer shades, but by the light of 
 
A father's influence. 225 
 
 various and extended instruction. Cliildhood, it is 
 true, may be restrained by authority in its strongest 
 and simplest exercise, with the least possible instruc- 
 tion ; and a degree of control may be maintained 
 through life by the same influence. This is done by 
 the papal priesthood. But it is done by a protraction 
 of mental childhood all through life to old age. No- 
 thing can secure the living green, the verdant thrifty 
 growth of good character, but the clear sunshine of 
 truth — the power of moral teaching. 
 
 The father holds in his hands the highest con- 
 ceivable advantages for achieving this end. He has 
 an authority which is supreme, and by which he may 
 exert the highest influence, in its kind, that the mind 
 of childhood can receive. He has the best possible 
 means of instruction at his disposal, and has access to 
 the mind in the most favored period. Whoever else 
 may be denied the access, a father cannot be pre- 
 vented from approaching the mind of his child. 
 Clothed with supreme authority, armed with " the 
 rod and reproof," and yet breathing the spirit of 
 parental afiection, he brings with him all the appli- 
 ances which may be found between the extremes of a 
 stern severity and the most loving tenderness. 
 
 The means of instruction are as good as God can 
 give, or he employ. He holds in his hands the sacred 
 Scriptures ; their principles are simple and far-reach- 
 ing, and easily communicated. Their history is enter- 
 taining, and blended with the sweetest fountains of 
 secular learning. Their poetry possesses all the ad- 
 
226 SERMON XII. 
 
 vantages of a splendid imagery, and an ornate style 
 and simple truth. Their doctrines are heavenly and 
 sublime. Scenes of the most pathetic interest glow 
 upon their pages, while they exhibit at once the gen- 
 tleness and benignity of infinite love, and the awful- 
 ness of God's authority. What an instrument of 
 moral power is here placed at the disposal of a father, 
 and given to him too for the express purpose of incul- 
 cating its sacred lessons upon the minds of his chil- 
 dren ! It is illuminating as the sun, winning as the 
 smile of God ; subduing as the death-groans and tear- 
 ful importunity of Jesus ; and more terrific in its 
 restraints than were the thunders and lightnings and 
 trumpet voices of Sinai. This is the very instrument 
 which God employs in subduing and ruling, and sanc- 
 tifying and elevating human minds, after they have 
 been thrown into stubborn rebellion and degraded by 
 sin. The Holy Spirit uses no other truths than those 
 found in the sacred volume, in the conversion and 
 sanctification of men. By these '' He raiseth up the 
 poor from the dust, and lifteth up the beggar from the 
 dunghill, to set them among princes, and to make 
 them inherit the throne of glory." As a means of 
 influence, therefore, instruction, the very best possible 
 in kind, and that in an inexhaustible quantity, is 
 placed at the disposal of a f^ither. He has this means 
 of instruction, also, under the most favorable circum- 
 stances for rendering it eff'ectual. He has the entire 
 preoccupancy of the mind of the child. When he 
 first approaches it, there is not one position defined 
 
A father's influence. 227 
 
 and fortified, in that mind, to conflict with the prin- 
 ciples which he would introduce. Not a cavil is 
 uttered against the truth. There is no ability in the 
 infant mind for such a work. God has placed it in 
 the father's hand empty, and bidden him to furnish 
 it. It is not so much as required to be first " swept 
 and garnished," for it is new. Its inner chambers 
 are walled all about with mirrors of reflection. Its 
 active powers are 'running out on nature's sympathies 
 as on a railway, to bring in whatever is new and 
 strange in this world of wonders. The parent must 
 seize this golden opportunity, and stand by and load 
 down the trains with gospel truth, and direct the now 
 nimble and docile faculties in assorting and packing 
 them. Truth will now be received with gladness. 
 For though the mind is entirely depraved, like the 
 stock whence it is derived, yet it feels no active oppo- 
 sition to the truths of the gospel till it is so far deve- 
 loped as to perceive their moral bearing. 
 
 This thought is deemed of the greater consequence, 
 because that philosophy which would be wiser than the 
 teachings of the simplest facts in nature, in their full 
 agreement with revelation, has maintained that a de- 
 praved mind rejects religious truth instinctively, and 
 with the same spontaneousness as we reject food for 
 which we have a native disrelish, or a nauseous me- 
 dicine. This is certainly a mistake. It is true that 
 ^'men love darkness rather than light," but it is for a 
 reason. It is ''because their deeds are evil." That 
 is, they hate the light of truth, because they see that 
 
228 SERMON XTI. 
 
 it exposes their wickedness, and will prove to tliera an 
 unwelcome restraint. But, wlienever truth is taught 
 in such a Avaj, or is inculcated upon a mind in such a 
 state, that the reproving influence is not for the pre- 
 sent seen, it meets with no repugnance in the most 
 sinful mind. Thus Nathan went to David with a par- 
 able, and gained a ready assent to certain principles 
 before he disclosed their application to his delinquent 
 sovereign. He then unfolded theii* bearings b j fixing 
 upon the monarch his reproving look, and exclaiming, 
 with emphasis, " Thou art the man." While the truth 
 was not seen as bearing upon his own selfishness and 
 guilt, it was not unwelcome. And thus it is univer- 
 sally. There are other things in the mind of man, by 
 nature, besides depravity. As Milton has finely said : 
 ^'The wisdom of God created understanding fit and 
 proportionable to truth, the object and end of it, as 
 the eye to the thing visible." Thus, in the early 
 religious instruction of children, the great and glorious 
 truths of the gospel may be introduced while the mind 
 is in such a state, from the limited development of its 
 powers, that it feels no more objection to truths that 
 will one day pierce it as a two-edged sword, than 
 David felt to the principle which was so beautifully 
 wrapped up in the parable of the prophet, while the 
 applicableness of that trutli to himself was undiscov- 
 ered. 
 
 The father may place in the mind of his child one 
 of the most important doctrines of the gospel, and not 
 an objection shall be raised against its introduction. 
 
A father's influence. 229 
 
 Then he may introduce another and another. Each 
 one may be regarded as an object of intrinsic beauty. 
 Every grand doctrine of Christianity may thus be 
 brought into the mind, and, thus moved about on those 
 polished hinges of instruction, the answers of the ca- 
 techism, they may be matched together as a complete 
 and beautiful and well-proportioned temple. Does 
 the mind of childhood object to this edification? No ; 
 it rather claps its hands for joy when "the head- 
 stone" is brought forth with shoutings, crying, " Grace, 
 grace unto it." Suppose, now, that as the mind ap- 
 proaches maturity, its terrific proclivity to a course of 
 open rebellion against God appears in the strength of 
 its manhood to contend against the restraints of reli- 
 gion. There stands the soul a temple of gospel truth. 
 The Saviour knocks at the door, and with authority 
 demands an entrance. The Holy Spirit claims it as 
 his proper dwelling-place. The youth, recreant to his 
 own and his father's God, may now war with the 
 gospel, but it is too late to deliver himself from its 
 influence. He may hate it, but he knows it is true. 
 His very opposition confirms his conviction. He may 
 now run from the sanctuary, but he carries its holy 
 instructions in his bosom. He may spurn ministers 
 of the gospel for a time, but there is a preacher within 
 whom he cannot despise. He may turn away his ear 
 from those w^ho warn him, and remind him of his fa- 
 ther's faithfulness, but he cannot escape the whisper- 
 ings of a still, small voice in his own heart, saying, in 
 the language of those solemn declarations of holy writ 
 20 
 
230 SERMON xir. 
 
 early embalmed in his memory : " Prepare to meet 
 thy God;" "He that, being often reproved, hardeneth 
 his neck, shall suddenly be destroyed, and that without 
 remedy." 
 
 If, however, a judicious exercise of authority under 
 circumstances so favorable to its sway, and the most 
 faithful instruction at the favored period of childhood 
 be by themselves insufficient, as they certainly are, to 
 secure the happiest results, there is one grand aug- 
 mentation of paternal power which crowns all other 
 endeavors with success. I mean, the impetration of 
 the covenant mercies of God. In strict truth, it is 
 God's power and not his ow^n. Yet it is his. Jacob 
 had power with God; and the Christian parent, when 
 pleading with his Maker in behalf of his children, whom 
 he has governed and instructed for the very purpose 
 of qualifying them to serve the Lord, "moves the 
 hand that moves the world." " The promise is to you 
 and your children." God is ready to give his Holy 
 Spirit to them that ask him. The father that has 
 consecrated his infant child at the baptismal font, and 
 exercised aright his authority and his power of in- 
 structing, may be well assured that God will not 
 disregard his prayer for Divine interposition. His cove- 
 nant-keeping heavenly Father regards his faithful serv- 
 ant and his offspring as being so closely united, that 
 he cannot well allow them to be separated. The same 
 spirit of supplication that secures persevering grace 
 for himself, secures also converting grace for his child ; 
 and he that has properly embraced God's covenant 
 would as soon give up the former as the latter. 
 
A FATHER'fci INFLUENCE. 231 
 
 Taking into the account, then, all the various faci- 
 lities committed to paternal hands, may not a Christ- 
 ian father be justified in speaking in the confident 
 tone of Joshua, and saying, '' As for me and my house 
 we will serve the Lord?" 
 
 From these views, it is obvious that it can never be 
 a light matter to trifle with parental authority and 
 influence^ The very first lesson in morals and religion 
 is to learn submission to authority- In the family, 
 God commences with our nature in its infancy to in- 
 culcate that lesson. So sacred does he regard it, that 
 he has nowhere prescribed any course to be taken by 
 the ckiM to secure its rights in case of the most de- 
 spotic enielty on the part of the parent. It cannot 
 be denied that mental derangement, or sallies of uii- 
 governed anger, might be properly resisted by a child 
 when resistaffiee is the only means left for the protec- 
 tion of life. But the fact tlxat no instruetion is given 
 in the Scriptures defining the circumstances in which 
 such re^sistance may be justified, is a strong intimation 
 that it is not t@ be thought ©f till the most pressing 
 exigency compels it. Indeed, the sentiments of filial 
 piety are of such a mature that we can scarcely con- 
 ceive of any extreme of yielding which will not 
 awaken o^r admiration. A case in point is related 
 of a mother and her daughter, in which the sad evils 
 of uncontrolled passion and the sweetness of filial 
 piety are alike exemplified. The mother, from early 
 habit, indulged herself in cruel outbreaks of rage and 
 violence against her child- The spirit of the little girl 
 
232 SERMON XII. 
 
 possessed an uncommon share of native gentleness, 
 and had also been greatly softened by the heavenly 
 influences of religion. After she had attained her 
 fourteenth year, she was one day assaulted by her 
 mother with brutal violence for some slight oversight 
 of which she had been guilty. After beating her till 
 w^ary and exhausted with the exercise, she observed 
 that the child wept and sobbed aloud. It was unusual, 
 and the mother inquired the reason of it. With 
 the utmost simplicity, the affectionate and aggrieved 
 child informed her that the excess of her sorrow arose 
 from observing with how much less vigor of arm she 
 corrected her than formerly. When such a veneration 
 and affection for a parent leads a child to not even 
 observe or seem to know the injustice under which it 
 suffers, we cannot fail to be impressed with the love- 
 liness of filial submission, and to feel that it can 
 scarcely be carried to an extreme. 
 
 Nor does this reasoning apply to parental govern- 
 ment merely. It has an analogous application to the 
 exercise of authority generally. There are no instruc- 
 tions given in the word of God respecting the circum- 
 stances in which it may be resisted, and nothing is 
 said of the mode in which such resistance may be 
 made ; while the subjection of children to parents, 
 wives to husbands, church members to them that have 
 the rule over them, and citizens to magistrates, is 
 often and earnestly inculcated. The principle as- 
 sumed by our Saviour and his apostles seems to be 
 this. There are two evils which inhere more or less, 
 
A father's influence. 233 
 
 in all modes of government, among sinful beings — the 
 insubordination of the governed, and the oppression 
 of the governors. Of these two evils insubordination 
 is immeasurably the greatest. Where there is no 
 subordination, there is no place for God himself to set 
 up his claims. There are no sure resisting tendencies 
 in a state of anarchy to the evils of that state. Its 
 very action is to perpetuate the principle that '' might 
 makes right," and to bring back such a reign of " chaos 
 and old night" that no security of life or property 
 shall exist,, but every man shall be subjected to suifer 
 from the hand of his brother. But in a wide-spread 
 despotism, however oppressive, there must be some of 
 the blessings of order ; and that quietness and con- 
 tinuity of the same things which prevail are favorable 
 to a silent spread and growth of principles that will 
 ultimately assert the rights of the oppressed. Hence 
 our Saviour and his apostles everywhere inculcate 
 obedience to rulers irrespective of their character, 
 enjoining subordination to their authority and endea- 
 voring to change the tone of the public sentiment, so 
 as ultimately to secure the lenient exercise of the gov- 
 erning power. Hence, too, an apostle gave it out as 
 one of the strongest marks of the depravity of a cer- 
 tain class, that they " despised dominions and spake 
 evil of dignities." Nor were just and praiseworthy 
 rulers alone referred to. The dominions of the Cae- 
 sars and the dignities of the Herods were included, 
 and men were rebuked for trifling with authority, even 
 
 20* 
 
234: SERMON xri. 
 
 "when it was exercised with most unreasonable sever- 
 
 The spirit of Christianity is very peculiar in this 
 respect. Infidelity has almost always made it a main 
 stroke in its policy, to appear to be foremost in the 
 defence of human rights against the undue exercise of 
 governmental power. On the same field Christianity 
 has aimed to cultivate respect for authority, and to 
 promote the growth of knoAvledge and holiness as the 
 remedy for its abuses. It is sufiiciently obvious which 
 has really achieved the most towards securing the 
 rights of the people. Our puritan ancestors, among 
 whom one might not address a disrespectful word to 
 the lowest parish magistrate, nor approach a school- 
 master, but as a superior being, laid the foundations 
 of liberty broad and deep, while the French philoso- 
 phers, with all their boasted attachments to human 
 rights, and their real hatred of arbitrary power, when 
 not exercised by themselves, have not as yet secured 
 the state against the most fearful tendencies to revo- 
 lution. Assassins even now stalk among the tombs of 
 the philosophers of the French revolution, threatening 
 the overthrow of existing authority without the least 
 prospect of anything better in its place. And who 
 has done most to elevate her sex, Mary Woolstencraft, 
 prating about woman's rights, and urging them to 
 wrestle with men for equality on the arena of political 
 strife ; or Hannah More, commending the domestic 
 virtues, and assuring her sex that their highest glory 
 
A father's influence. 235 
 
 is attained in their loved and honoured subordination 
 to their husbands? 
 
 . With such views of the power of a father to bless 
 his family, before the mind, how mighty do the motives 
 for parental faithfulness become ! It must exert a 
 vast influence upon a parent to reflect how perfectly 
 God has subjected the minds of his children to his 
 forming hand. His authority is absolute. In this 
 respect he cannot possibly have any higher advantage. 
 As a ruler no one questions his right to entire obedi- 
 ence. There is no thought of displacing him by elec- 
 tion. There are no tendencies to revolution in his 
 little empire. His subjects are so manifestly inferior 
 and dependent that there is no necessity for tumults 
 within, nor is there any considerable danger of inter- 
 ferences from without. He has the power of com- 
 pletely controlling their instruction. Furnished with 
 the richest stores of knowledge in the Divine w^ord, he 
 employs the same truths in the same Divine connec- 
 tions which God employs in the conversion and sanc- 
 tificatlon of men. He makes the authority of God 
 himself subserve his purpose. He has the preoccu- 
 pancy of the mind and the promised aid of the Holy 
 Spirit. It is, perhaps, impossible for us to appreciate 
 the advantage of an access to the mind in precedence 
 of all others, and the value of the opportunity of intro- 
 ducing the doctrines of the gospel, before depravity 
 has had sufficient time, and acquired skill enough, to 
 bar up the avenues of truth. It is obvious that Christ- 
 ianity, though in every other respect the same, would 
 
236 SERMON XII. 
 
 have been placed under peculiar disadvantages, if the 
 human family had been all created, as we suppose 
 angels were, in the maturity of their powers. We 
 know not that the gospel could be propagated at all 
 in a world full of mature beings involved in a common 
 rebellion. The power of God, it is true, is not to be 
 limited, but we do know at least that his power and 
 wisdom are both magnified by spreading the triumphs 
 of his religion through the influence of instruction 
 introduced in the happy, favored period of childhood. 
 It is a high motive also to parental faithfulness to 
 know that it exerts a wide influence in sustaininor the 
 
 o 
 
 blessings of civil government, and in the advancement 
 of spiritual religion. It is highly probable that there 
 would be no civil government on earth, if it were not 
 for family government, and it never will be known, till 
 the light of eternity reveals it, how much a few well- 
 governed and well-instructed families do to prevent 
 states and empires from rushing into the horrors of 
 anarchy. Then the example of parental faithfulness, 
 with the blessings that are seen to attend it, power- 
 fully draws men to Christ. Kor does it merely at- 
 tract men as individuals to a spiritual worship of God. 
 It leads families to their Saviour. Many a parent 
 has been won to Christ, by seeing how a Christian 
 family is blest through the influence of family religion. 
 And when such a one is turned to God, it is like the 
 conversion of a kino^ amons^ idolatrous tribes. The 
 whole government becomes a sanctified one, and entire 
 households are trained up for the service of the Lord. 
 
A father's influence. 237 
 
 Besides, no mortal can estimate the influenee of pater- 
 nal faithfulness upon future generations. To a reflect- 
 ing mind, that is a mighty scheme of influence which 
 is indicated by the words of the prophet : " Tell ye 
 your children of it, and let them tell their children, 
 and their children another generation." That is to 
 say, let holy sentiments, sound instruction, stern princi- 
 ples of right, pass from lip to lip, from an individual 
 to a family ; from each one of its members to their 
 families; from all their members to a wider circle, 
 and so on, increasing in a rapidly augmented ratio, 
 till a multitude like a nation, shall have their minds 
 and hearts cast in the mould of a godly ancestor. 
 
 What a weight of responsibleness rests upon a 
 Christian father I Household piety lies at the found- 
 ation of all rio-ht religious culture, and of the success 
 of the church of .God. There the influence of the 
 gospel appears in its might, exerting itself under the 
 most advantageous circumstances possible. There is 
 authority absolute, yet tempered with parental 
 affection, softened by maternal kindness, and enforced 
 by a mother's echo of paternal authority, and by the 
 example of a dignified Sarah-like submission. There 
 is instruction, rich, various, and solid, introduced into 
 the mind in the most favored period. Let parents 
 then address themselves to their chief work on earth, 
 the training of their children for the service of God. 
 Let them wait upon the Lord for the aids of his grace. 
 Let them remember that the time is short, that their 
 influence must be exerted now ; that they shall soon 
 
238 SERMON XII. 
 
 meet tlicir dear ones at tlie.bar of God; that they 
 shall see them there polluted with sin, scathed with 
 thunder and crushed to hell, or they shall meet them 
 clothed in robes of unsullied purity, with crowns of 
 gold on their heads, and entering with songs and 
 transports into the kingdom of Christ. 
 
SERMON XIII. 
 
 IMPORTANCE OF GENTLE VIRTUES. 
 
 Whose adorning, let it not be that outward adorning op 
 plaiting the hair, and of wearing of gold, or of putting on 
 
 OF APPAREL ; But let it be THE HIDDEN MAN OF THE HEART, IN 
 THAT WHICH IS NOT CORRUPTIBLE, EVEN THE ORNAMENT OF A MEEK 
 AND QUIET SPIRIT, WHICH IS IN THE SIGHT OF GOD OF GREAT PRICE. 
 —1 Pet. III. 3, 4. 
 
 The apostle is here addressing himself to Christian 
 wives in regard to the best method of exerting a good 
 spiritual influence upon their unconverted husbands. 
 He first recommends a dutiful subjection, so that their 
 husbands, if not subdued bj the word (that is, if not 
 converted bj means of the preaching of the gospel), 
 may be won by the conversation of the wives. While 
 they behold, says he, your chaste conversation coupled 
 with fear. The word, translated conversation, has a 
 more extensive signification than we give to the Eng- 
 lish term at the present day. It means behavior ; 
 so that the idea intended to be conveyed by the se- 
 cond verse is this, while they behold your pure beha- 
 vior coupled with a reverent obedience to their own 
 authority. He then proceeds to magnify the beauty 
 and power of the inward spiritual graces of the Christ- 
 
240 SERMON xrri. 
 
 ian when compared "with the most captivating out- 
 ward ornaments. 
 
 Doubtless there is such a thing as extravagance in 
 personal decoration ; but I do not think that the 
 apostle intended in this place to say an^^thing upon 
 that subject. His view may be expressed in a para- 
 phrase like this. You may have thought that you 
 could obtain a powerful sway over the minds of your 
 unconverted husbands by a tasteful attire and capti- 
 vating ornaments ; but let me assure you that there 
 are ornaments which far surpass the plaiting of the 
 hair, and the wearing of gold and the putting on of 
 apparel, however beautiful and becoming. It is the 
 ornament of a meek and quiet spirit ; an ornament of 
 such high charms that even God himself esteems it of 
 great price. Adorn yourselves, then, with the gentle 
 and lovely graces of piety, esteem nothing else of any 
 worth in the comparison. 
 
 By this, certainly, the apostle would not restrict 
 these virtues to females. But as Archbishop Leigh- 
 ton on this passage has beautifully said: ''This orna- 
 ment is withal the comeliness of every Christian in 
 every estate. It is not a woman's garment, or orna- 
 ment improper for men. There is somewhat, as I 
 may say, of a particular cut or fashion of it for wives 
 towards their husbands and in their domestic affairs ; 
 but men, all men ought to wear of the same stuff, yea, 
 if I may so speak, of the same piece, for it is all one 
 and the same spirit, and fits the stoutest and greatest 
 commanders. Moses was a great general, and yet 
 
IMPORTANCE OF GENTLE VIRTUES. 241 
 
 not less great in this virtue, the meekest man on 
 eartlu' 
 
 Christianity is the friend of everything that is 
 good, but it evidently gives most consequence to those 
 gentle, and quiet, and retiring qualities for which the 
 world has little regard. Incidentally, a chaste and 
 refined taste is promoted by the gospel. Public 
 spirit, patriotism, a wide-spread philanthropy, and 
 a high regard for honor are virtues which spring up 
 and flourish most luxuriantly under Christian culture. 
 But meekness, quietness of spirit, patience, penitence, 
 humility, and indeed the whole family of gentler virtues 
 are the peculiar glory of our religion. That the apostle 
 should have selected from all the good qualities by 
 which religion is commended, the ornament of a meek 
 and quiet spirit; and that he should have spoken of 
 these as jewels to adorn the soul, and that he should 
 have represented them as high-priced in the estima- 
 tion of God ; these facts will more than justify me in 
 deducing from the text the following 
 
 PROPOSITION. 
 
 The GENTLE AND UNOBTRUSIVE VIRTUES OF CHRIST- 
 IANITY ARE OF PARAMOUNT IMPORTANCE. 
 
 It will scarcely be doubted by any attentive reader 
 of the New Testament that our Saviour and his apos- 
 tles gave great prominence to these virtues. They 
 certainly did not discourage patriotism, and boldness, 
 and a manly sense of honor. They did not advise 
 21 
 
242 SERMON XIII. 
 
 magistrates to allow their authority to fall into con- 
 tempt by too much indulgence of evil-doers. On the 
 contrary, they approved of their maintaining the ma- 
 jesty of the law by inflicting capital punishment. 
 They commended magistrates for bearing the sword, 
 tlie instrument by which death was inflicted, not in 
 vain. And Paul alleged that he was ready to sustain 
 the law against capital off'ences by submitting himself 
 to death if he had done anything deserving such a 
 punishment. 
 
 What a remarkable cluster of these gentler quali- 
 ties has our blessed Saviour brought together in that 
 beautiful strain of beatitudes in the commencement of 
 his Sermon on the Mount. His blessing rests on the 
 poor in spirit, the penitent mourner for sin, the meek, 
 the merciful, the pure, the peace-makers, and those 
 who sufi*er bitter persecution with patience. How 
 earnestly does he inculcate the duty of forgiving in- 
 juries and loving our enemies. When Christ is held 
 up to us as a pattern by the inspired writers, it is 
 with reference to these peculiar qualities. He acted 
 with a holy and vigorous zeal when he made a whip 
 of small cords and drove the cattle from the court of 
 the temple, and purged the holy inclosure by compel- 
 ling the trafiickers and money-changers to withdraw. 
 But in this point of his example our imitation is not 
 insisted on. When he rode into Jerusalem as a king, 
 and awed the multitudes of his enemies, and com- 
 manded a deserved homao;e from the hearts of thou- 
 sands, he asserted his proper dignity ; but no care is 
 
IMPORTANCE OF GENTLE VIRTUES. 243 
 
 taken to urge upon us to assert at suitable times our 
 dignity. But his meekness and lowliness are often 
 placed before us for the express purpose of being 
 copied. He exhibited these qualities almost exclu- 
 sively. If his dignity and glory gleamed forth at the 
 purgation of the temple, at the riding in kingly state 
 into Jerusalem, and at the glorious transfiguration 
 upon mount Tabor, yet almost the whole of his life 
 was an exemplification of those virtues which may be 
 exercised and evinced in the life of a poor laborer or 
 the humblest domestic. Indeed, he took upon him- 
 self the form of a servant, and made nearly the whole 
 of his life an exemplification of the gentle and unob- 
 trusive virtues. 
 
 The discipline to which divine Providence has sub- 
 jected the church, whenever the Lord has improved 
 her character, evinces the same thing. Aflfliction has 
 been employed to inure the soul to patience. Per- 
 secution has been permitted to cultivate the spirit of 
 meekness, and subordination to produce quietness. 
 The fruits of the divine Spirit are also characterized 
 as possessing this same gentle, quiet character. '' The 
 fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, long-suffering, 
 gentleness, goodness, faith, meekness, temperance." 
 
 Let me suggest some reasons why Christianity 
 gives such prominence to the gentler and unobtrusive 
 virtues. And, 
 
 I. There is more simplicity and purity of character 
 secured hy the exercise of the gentler virtues. 
 
 In the manifestation of shining qualities, and the 
 
244 SERMON XIII. 
 
 exercise of high public virtues, the best men find in 
 connection with their love of what is right a strong 
 mingling of self-interest. Those actions which glare 
 before the public as great and splendid achievements, 
 bring after them certain secular rewards which corrupt 
 the simplicity of the actor, or at least strongly tend 
 to such a result. The love of gain stealthily insinuates 
 itself. An eye to one's reputation mars the purity of 
 his motives. Vanity is flattered by what men say of 
 such actions. But one is less tempted to this mingling 
 of selfish feelings, with patience and meekness, and 
 uniform gentleness, and humility, and forbearance. 
 Hence the truth of the language of the poet, 
 
 "The private walks, the secret acts of men, 
 If noble, far the noblest of their lives." 
 
 The retired virtues of a meek and quiet spirit are less 
 likely to be corrupted than those high qualities that 
 come more abroad ; as the fountain, that bubbles up from 
 the deep recess of a rock, is more likely to send a pure 
 current over its pebbly bed in that retirement, than 
 the river is to continue pure when it has cut a channel 
 for itself in the earth for the space of a thousand miles. 
 
 II. The gentler and more iinohtrusive virtues are of 
 more general utility. 
 
 There are, comparatively, few persons that occupy 
 positions which will demand anything very striking or 
 imposing from them. But a meek and quiet spirit be- 
 comes the king on his throne, the statesman in the 
 senate chamber, the scholar in his closet, and the ar- 
 
IMPORTANCE OF GENTLE VIRTUES. 245 
 
 tisan in his slioj). Yes, and it equally well becomes 
 the prince and the beggar. 
 
 So the gentler virtues may be brought into profit- 
 able exercise on all occasions. You may repent, and 
 meekly forgive injuries, and be patient every day — 
 nay, almost every hour. While what are termed high 
 and shining qualities are conspicuous only on the 
 great occasions that demand them, while they are 
 put on like the uniform of the military on days of re- 
 view, and in the time of battle, a meek and quiet spirit 
 may be worn as the perpetual ornament of the soul. 
 They send forth a pure light, and exhibit a simple 
 goodness, which benefits every beholder. 
 
 III. As this class of virtues is of more general util- 
 ity^ so tliey are afar more poiv erf ul means of useful- 
 ness. 
 
 Other virtues that manifest themselves in splendid 
 achievements, exhibit a greater show of strength. They 
 move with armies, and sit in cabinets, and walk in the 
 high places of ofiice, and show themselves in halls of 
 legislation. They are associated with "the mighty 
 man and the man of war, the judge and the prophet, 
 and the prudent and the ancient, the captain of fifty 
 and the honorable man, and the counsellor and the 
 cunning artificer, and the eloquent orator." But pa- 
 tience under injuries, forgiveness, and a meek and 
 quiet spirit, possesses far greater power. The gentle- 
 ness of this temper causes it not to be seen by the 
 thoughtless and the superficial. But its unobtrusive- 
 ness prevents men from guarding themselves against 
 
 21* 
 
246 SERMON XIII. 
 
 its influence, and gives it a silent power wliicli no 
 human mind can estimate. The apostle, in our con- 
 text, places it (in respect to its power) above the 
 preaching of the gospel. He represents it as coming 
 in and winning an unconverted soul after the preach- 
 ing of the word had failed to accomplish the end — 
 "that if any obey not the word," says he, "they also 
 may, without the word, be won by the conversation of 
 the wives." The subsequent verses indicate that he 
 means by conversation, here, the manifestation of a 
 meek and quiet spirit. 
 
 Every unconverted sinner guards himself vigilantly 
 against the preaching of the gospel, and all those con- 
 spicuous means which are connected with the reputa- 
 tion and other temporal rewards of the actors. But 
 no man can o-uard himself af!;ainst the influence of a 
 meek and quiet spirit, manifested by a friend or a 
 member of his own household — and manifested only 
 because, unobtrusive as it is, it cannot be hid. The 
 quiet shining of such a spirit compares with the more 
 spirited action of high public endeavor as the influ- 
 ence of the sun compares with that of the wind, in the 
 fable, when they vied with each other in efforts to take 
 the cloak from a pedestrian traveller. The wind made 
 the first attempt. By a sudden gust he lifted the 
 loose garment, but the man feeling himself in danger 
 of suff'ering loss, caught again his flying mantle and 
 gathered it more closely about him. The wind blew 
 more fiercely. The traveller only gathered more 
 closely the folds of his cloak. The wind collected all 
 
IMPORTANCE OF GENTLE VIRTUES. 247 
 
 its force, and came in a wliirling tornado. The trav- 
 eller buckled his cloak tightly about his person, and 
 rendered it easier to take cloak and traveller away 
 together than to separate them. No effect had been 
 produced except to stimulate the man to the most de- 
 termined and successful resistance. The sun com- 
 menced his effort. The traveller perceived no effort 
 at all. He saw only a quiet beauty and brightness in 
 the heavens. He walked on with elastic step, and all 
 unconscious to himself, unbuckled the closest band of 
 his cloak. Onward he passed, the sun's beams still 
 baptizing his entire person with its noiseless flood. 
 Tlie traveller loosened another fold of his mantle. The 
 sun made no demonstration of increased effort. He 
 only continued the same meek and quiet shining. The 
 traveller came to the shadow of a great rock, and 
 paused, and deliberately laid off his cloak, folded it, 
 and sat down upon it to rest. He knew that the w^ind 
 had made an unsuccessful endeavor to take from him 
 his garment — but he scarcely knew that the sun had 
 sought for it, and yet he had cheerfully given it to 
 him, and was almost ready to impart his coat also. 
 Thus is it with the influence of a meek and quiet 
 spirit. It is gentle, and noiseless, and mighty. It 
 achieves the most majestic results without advertising 
 those upon whom it acts of the influence by which their 
 hearts are w^on to the Saviour. 
 
 IV. The superior excellency of these gentler virtues 
 is also seen in the fact, that they distinguish the truly 
 jpious, the children of Qod^from other men. 
 
248 SERMON xiir. 
 
 The fire may be taken from other altars than that 
 of Christianity, to kindle the flame of patriotism. 
 Human culture of some of the nobler qualities of our 
 nature can produce honorable sentiments and many 
 of the social virtues. But nothing less than the grace 
 of God can subdue the soul in genuine penitence, and 
 inspire an unresisting meekness under injuries and a 
 forgiveness of wrongs, and clothe the whole man with 
 the garment of humility. A meek and quiet spirit was 
 never manifested by the legislators, the philosophers, 
 or the people, among the heathen. It never existed 
 among; Mohammedans. A ferocious and reveno;eful 
 temper is even inculcated by their religion. Infidels 
 never pretend to be influenced by such a temper ; nor 
 do those of our great political men, who claim to have 
 rendered the most important service to their country, 
 but who are confessedly not spiritual Christians, pre- 
 tend to possess a meek and quiet spirit. But there 
 have been individuals in every age of the world, some 
 in high stations, and many more in the humbler walks 
 of life, that have always manifested this spirti. Yet 
 in every instance, whether it were Joseph in Egypt, 
 or Moses in the wilderness, or Stephen, kneeling with 
 bright face before his murderers, or the publican, 
 smitino; on his breast, or the obscurest female that dis- 
 tributes tracts in the city, and repeats visits of kind- 
 ness to those who requite them with sour looks and 
 unkind expressions, in every instance that spirit bears 
 the impress of God's workmanship and grace. 
 
 V. The gentler and more unobtrusive virtues im- 
 
IMPORTANCE OF GENTLE VIRTUES. 249 
 
 part the greatest consistency and the most enduring 
 and extensive usefulness to that class of good actions 
 tvhich we have denominated shining qualities. 
 
 Moses was a wiser legislator, a more skilful gene- 
 ral, and possessed more power in his public character, 
 because he was meek and patient in his spirit. Joseph 
 and Daniel were fitted to shine in courts, and to ex- 
 ert a mighty influence by their public virtues, because 
 they possessed, in a pre-eminent degree, a meek and 
 quiet spirit. When St. Paul was running a splendid 
 career of public usefulness, God in his holy providence 
 so ordered events that he should be continually afflicted 
 to secure his continued humility. And when there 
 was danger that he might be lifted up with vanity on 
 account of his great public distinction, he informs us 
 that a messenger of Satan was sent to buflfet him. 
 This contributed to that meekness and quietness of 
 spirit, which gave new and wonderful power to his 
 public action. 
 
 VI. Again, Grod has promised the highest rewards 
 to the exercise of the gentler virtues. 
 
 There is very little of anything like direct promises 
 to those who shall deliver their country from oppres- 
 sion, or break the political bondage of communities 
 or perform any other great public work. " To this 
 man," says God, "will I look, even to him that is poor 
 and of a contrite spirit, and that trembleth at my 
 word." " He that is slow to anger is better than the 
 mighty, and he who ruleth his spirit, than he that 
 taketh a city." There are no marked promises in the 
 
260 SERMON XIII. 
 
 sacred Scriptures, to one who, like Lord Bacon, clianges 
 the philosophy of the world. But God will beautify 
 the meek with salvation. Blessed are the meek. 
 Forgive, and ye shall be forgiven. If a servant only 
 suffer wrongfully with patience, God will reward it. 
 From these views we propose to deduce very briefly 
 several lessons of instruction. And, 
 
 1. Christianity must he from Crod. 
 
 No other system of religion has ever given promi- 
 nence to a meek and quiet spirit. No other system 
 has so much as professed to do so. Even under the 
 teachings of Christianity, the great mass of men mani- 
 fest no relish for this feature of gospel inculcation 
 and Christian character. In no country, in no nation 
 under heaven, have men been willing to bear with one 
 another so much as to allow the free toleration of all 
 religions, except where the spirit of the gospel pre- 
 vails, and the people drink in gospel instruction from 
 the Scriptures themselves, the sacred fountain of Di- 
 vine truth. 
 
 Who invented a system that thus strikes primarily 
 at pride, resistance, and intolerance. Was it the devil, 
 or was it wicked men, or was it an emanation from 
 the mind of a holy God ? 
 
 2. Persons in the narrowest circumstances^ and in 
 the humblest walks of life, may he greatly useful if 
 they will. 
 
 The secluded female, shut up to the care of her 
 little ones, struggling with poverty to earn their daily 
 bread, may manifest as meek and quiet a spirit as her 
 
IMPORTANCE OF GENTLE VIRTUES. 251 
 
 move wealthy fellow-disciples ; and if she toil on with 
 holy gentleness, contented with God's dealings, unen- 
 vious of those possessing more worldly fortune, she 
 may do more good than many a disciple of less humil- 
 ity, whose name always stands among the foremost in 
 great enterprises for the church of God. The gentler 
 virtues are the highest means of usefulness. God 
 will exhibit the result. It is in his sight of great 
 price. 
 
 3. It 18 hazardous for Chinstians generally to 
 exercise themselves in high matters. 
 
 Moses may go to Pharaoh and attempt to control 
 the counsels of a nation. His mind was familiar 
 with great national movements ; he could aim at such 
 an influence without endangering his meekness, and 
 was especially safe, because he acted under an imme- 
 diate Divine direction. So Daniel may exert a pow- 
 erful sway at the court of Babylon, when the Lord 
 has given him great influence, and great wisdom, and 
 courtly manners, and the favor of the monarch. But 
 when a passion rises in the bosom of multitudes of 
 Christians to guide the national counsels; when our 
 young men and females, of limited education, under- 
 take to direct the whole popular will in regard to 
 vexed questions — questions, with respect to which our 
 wisest men, in church and state, have been at their 
 wits' end, I can but tremble with apprehension, lest 
 the meek and quiet spirit through which good influ- 
 ence is mainly exerted, should be lost sight of. 
 
 4. Christian ge7itleness is a highly impoi^tant test of 
 
252 SERMON XIII. 
 
 character. In my opinion, nothing can so quickly 
 and fatally mar our Christian comfort, as the exercise 
 of harsh passions : and nothing so invites and cherishes 
 all Christian graces in the heart as the possession of 
 a meek and quiet spirit. 
 
 5. Finally. The way of salvation is alike plain and 
 delightful. Be quiet, be gentle, and unresisting. If 
 reproof comes from the word of God, take it as a 
 favor. If a Christian friend administer a rebuke, 
 consider it as an excellent oil. If God chasten you, 
 kiss the rod and bless him that hath appointed it. 
 Sit down at your Saviour's feet with the teachableness 
 of a little child, and it shall be well. You shall pos- 
 sess a meek and quiet spirit, which in the sight of God 
 is of great price. 
 
SERMON XIY. 
 
 MARRIAGE OF THE KING S SON. 
 
 And Jesus answered and spake unto them again in parables, 
 AND SAID, The kingdom of heaven is like unto a certain king, 
 
 WHICH MADE A MARRIAGE FOR HIS SON. AnD SENT FORTH HIS SER- 
 VANTS TO CALL THEM THAT WERE BIDDEN TO THE WEDDING : AND THEY 
 WOULD NOT COME. AgAIN, HE SENT FORTH OTHER SERVANTS, SAYING, 
 
 Tell them which are bidden, Behold, i have prepared my din- 
 ner; MY oxen and my FATLINGS ARE KILLED, AND ALL THINGS ARE 
 
 ready: come unto the marriage. But they made light of it, 
 
 AND WENT their WAYS, ONE TO HIS FARM, AND ANOTHER TO HIS 
 
 merchandise: And the remnant took his servants, and en- 
 treated THEM spitefully, AND SLEW THEM. BuT WHEN THE 
 KING HEARD THEREOF, HE WAS WROTH : AND HE SENT FORTH HIS 
 ARMIES, AND DESTROYED THOSE MURDERERS, AND BURNT UP THEIR 
 
 CITY. Then saith he to his servants. The wedding is ready, 
 
 BUT THEY WHICH WERE BIDDEN WERE NOT WORTHY. Go YE THERE- 
 FORE INTO THE HIGHWAYS ; AND AS MANY AS YE SHALL FIND, BID TO 
 THE MARRIAGE. So THOSE SERVANTS WENT OUT INTO THE HIGH- 
 WAYS, AND GATHERED TOGETHER ALL, AS MANY AS THEY FOUND, 
 BOTH BAD AND GOOD : AND THE WEDDING WAS FURNISHED WITH 
 GUESTS. And when the king came in to see the GUESTS, HE 
 SAW THERE A MAN WHICH HAD NOT ON A WEDDING GARMENT: AnD 
 HE SAITH UNTO HIM, FrIEND, HOW CAMEST THOU IN HITHER, NOT 
 HAVING A WEDDING GARMENT? AnD HE WAS SPEECHLESS. TlIEN 
 SAID THE KING TO THE SERVANTS, BiND HIM HAND AND FOOT, AND 
 TAKE HIM AWAY, AND CAST HIM INTO OUTER DARKNESS : THERE 
 
 22 
 
254 SERMON XIV. 
 
 SHALL BE WEEPING AND GNASHING OF TEETH. FOR MANY ARE 
 CALLED, BUT FEW ARE CHOSEN. Mat. XXII. 1 — 14, 
 
 Tins parable ought not to be confounded with that 
 of the great supper, found in the 14th chapter of the 
 gospel according to Luke. Though alike in the gene- 
 ral idea of representing the provisions of the gospel 
 by a feast, its promulgation by invitations sent out, 
 and the sinfulness of those that reject it by the un- 
 grateful neglect of the invited guests ; still, there are 
 several striking points of difference between the two. 
 They were not spoken on the same occasion. The 
 parable of the supper was uttered at a feast to which 
 our Lord was invited by one of the chief of the Pha- 
 risees. That of the marriage of the king's son was 
 spoken in the temple. There are several points of 
 difference, also, in the character of the two composi- 
 tions Avhich show conclusively that they are not differ- 
 ent versions of the same discourse. One describes 
 an ordinary banquet of some opulent citizen. A feast, 
 as we may well suppose, very much like that at which 
 our Saviour was then sitting. The other sets before 
 us the marriage festival of the son of a great monarch. 
 In the former, the sinfulness of declining the provi- 
 sions of grace is portrayed, and the intimation is 
 made that those distinguished and privileged classes, 
 the Scribes and Pharisees, should be deprived of its 
 eternal blessings, while those in the streets and lanes, 
 persons of an inferior condition, publicans and har- 
 lots, should enter into the kingdom of God. In the 
 latter, an exhibition is made of the more active wick- 
 
MARRIAGE OF THE KINU'S SON. 255 
 
 edness of the Jewish people when that spirit of vio- 
 lent hate was rising which terminated in their crucify- 
 ing the Son of God, and putting to death the early 
 propagator of Christianity, and the calling of the 
 Gentiles, is predicted. In addition to this, the parable 
 of the marriage feast introduces a new discrimination 
 of persons not at all alluded to in the parable of the 
 supper. It sets forth two distinct and successive ex- 
 ecutions of judgment. In the JSrst, our Lord speaks 
 of the punishment of those who persecuted and put to 
 death the messengers of salvation, by saying that the 
 king "was wroth, that he sent forth his armies, and 
 destroyed those murderers, and burnt up their city." 
 In the second, he alludes to the punishment of such 
 as nominally comply with the invitation, without pos- 
 sessing the qualifications requisite to be admitted to a 
 place among the blest, under the figure of a man in 
 the festal hall who had not on a wedding garment. In 
 other words, he first distinguishes between those who 
 openly despise the gospel, and those that publicly 
 and openly receive it. When he has drawn a lively 
 picture of the destruction of all those open despisers, 
 he proceeds to make a closer discrimination, and to 
 sliow^, in the character and destiny of an individual, 
 that some who had found a place among the righteous, 
 would be cast out. This last separation between true 
 and spurious Christians is a sufficient basis for a dis- 
 tinct discourse. I shall, therefore, at this time, limit 
 my exposition to the first part of the parable, ending 
 with the judgment executed on open despisers, and 
 the sending of the gospel to others. 
 
256 SERMON XIV. 
 
 Contemplating this portion by itself, a complete 
 dramatic effect is produced. The piece has three dis- 
 tinct acts. In the first, the king, and his servants, 
 and their action in providing the feast, represent 
 God, and those subordinate agents that act with him 
 in making provision for the salvation of man. In this 
 act, but one class of persons appears. A party is to 
 be introduced, it is true, of a very different character 
 — one that will appear in violent conflict with the 
 king and his servants. But throughout the first act 
 everything is harmonious and delightful. One great 
 and pleasing end is before the mind. It is the honor- 
 ing of the king's son, and the securing a large parti- 
 cipation in his enjoyment on the part of favored sub- 
 jects of the government. One means is proposed for 
 achieving this object. The preparation of a banquet, 
 the magnificence of which shall become the royal 
 state of him that provides it, and the occasion that 
 gives it rise, and the end to be achieved. 
 
 The servants obedient to the behests of one wise, 
 benevolent, and glorious monarch, are all alert in ac- 
 tion, and every endeavor concurs to produce the one 
 happy result. The scene is laid in the metropolis of 
 a great empire. As we approach it, we behold a 
 kingly palace. Its lofty dome glitters in the sun. 
 As we come nearer, we descry througli the Elysian 
 groves that encircle it, brilliant walls of marble and 
 splendid colonnades. We enter through corridors 
 paved with mosaics, and pass by elegant statues, and 
 perceive the sharp sound of our footfalls muffled in 
 the soft tones of murmuring fountains. Thence we 
 
MARRIAGE OF THE KING'S SON. 257 
 
 pass into the great festal chamber. The looms of 
 Persia have been laid under contribution for its rich 
 carpets and the pictured tapestry of its walls. From 
 the vaulted ceilings depend lamps glittering with gems 
 and gold, while magnificent mirrors multiply a hun- 
 dredfold this array of sumptuous elegance. Tables 
 curiously wrought and inlaid with ebony, and ivory, 
 and precious stones, are extended through the long 
 apartment, making room for a thousand guests. The 
 active servants are seen everywhere bringing out the 
 service of gold, and arraying it in the best manner 
 for individual and general effect. Some are abroad 
 making purchases of spices and various condiments 
 that will be needed in the preparation of the feast ; 
 some are ordering ornaments and flowers for garnish- 
 ing the tables, and some are practising their parts in 
 the preparation of an orchestra of delicious music, 
 while others are going forth with notes of invitation. 
 The king himself comes in, and surveys the scene, and 
 beholds with satisfaction the progress of the work. 
 Everything in these general preparations is in perfect 
 order. The day of the feast approaches. The in- 
 terest deepens. The oxen and fatlings are killed. 
 All things are ready. The servants are now dis- 
 patched according to custom to inform the previously 
 invited guests that the dinner is prepared, and to bid 
 them come now to the marriage feast. 
 
 Thus far we have placed before us the king, his 
 benevolent provision, and the harmonious unresisted 
 action employed in preparing for such an august and 
 
 22* 
 
258 SERMON XIV. 
 
 happ)^ occasion. The spiritual instruction intended to 
 be conveyed by all this is exceedingly obvious. By the 
 king is intended the infinite God. This, on many ac- 
 counts, is one of the best images by which to represent 
 the Deity. Yet it must not be forgotten that all those 
 figurative representations are defective. God is an 
 infinite king. His moral character is one of supreme 
 goodness. His monarchy is commensurate with the 
 whole universe ; his resources are boundless. 
 
 The feast sets forth the provisions of the gospel. 
 The analogies subsisting between such a festive enter- 
 tainment, and the spiritual blessings adumbrated by it, 
 must not be traced out with too much minuteness. It 
 is enough to say that a general resemblance between 
 the two is plainly perceptible. In both, the enjoyment 
 is rich and various ; the free intercourse of congenial 
 minds is involved and reciprocal sentiments of good- 
 will are implied as existing between him that provided 
 the feast and his favored guests. 
 
 The utmost harmony has prevailed in the progress 
 of these preparations. The counsels of the king have 
 imparted unity to the whole plan of the operations, 
 while the unquestioning obedience and alacrity of the 
 servants have rendered all their practical movements 
 perfectly harmonious. 
 
 Precisely such has been the preparation of the pro- 
 visions of grace. The disturbing element which ap- 
 pears in the second act of this wonderful drama is not 
 developed — is not exhibited in the least degree in the 
 devising and preparing the provisions of Divine mercy. 
 
MARRIAGE OF THE KINg'S SON. 259 
 
 The scheme originated in the unsolicited benevolence 
 of God. His unaided wisdom formed the plan and 
 holy subordinate beings co-operated in its accomplish- 
 ment. 
 
 This brings us to a new and extraordinary devel- 
 opment — to what I have termed the second act of the 
 drama. An element which has not hitherto appeared 
 is introduced. It is an element of discord, changing 
 this scene of love into an arena of strife. The first 
 occasion of this conflict is the going forth of the ser- 
 vants of the king, in that very spirit of love which 
 had wrought with such sweetness in preparing the 
 feast, to inform the invited guests that the banquet 
 was now ready and awaiting their arrival. The call 
 is slighted. They would not come. The invitation is 
 renewed with the same kindness, and as a second in- 
 vitation, in such cases, implies, with increased urgency. 
 This urgency becomes the occasion of the moral con- 
 flict's being exchanged for violent hostilities. The 
 invited guests, provoked by the reiteration and urgency 
 with which the king's claims are presented, strike the 
 first blow. Blood flows. The innocent servants of the 
 king, while the messages of love are on their lips, are 
 seized and murdered. The king, incensed both by the 
 contempt of his generous provisions, and by the atro- 
 cious murders committed, sends an overAvhelming force 
 and destroys the assailants, and burns up their city. 
 We have here a lively picture of the first preachers of 
 the gospel, of the opposition made to them by the 
 Jews, and of the destruction with which they were 
 
260 SERMON XIV. 
 
 overwhelmed as a consequence. There are certain al- 
 lusions in this part of the story which belong to the 
 persons and circumstances then existing — but it will 
 be seen, as we proceed, that great principles are in- 
 volved in the narrative — principles that find an illus- 
 tration in the conflict of Christianity with the world in 
 every subsequent age. 
 
 The first invitation of the servants may be regarded 
 as having reference, primarily, to the calls of the pro- 
 phets, and all those previous intimations made in the 
 Old Testament scriptures, that they should believe on 
 him that was to come, while the early preachers of the 
 gospel, that spoke plainly of Jesus and the resurrec- 
 tion, are the servants referred to when it is said of the 
 king "He sent forth other servants, saying. Tell them 
 which are bidden. Behold, I have prepared my dinner; 
 my oxen and my fatlings are killed, and all things 
 are ready: come unto the marriage." 
 
 There is something analogous to this double call 
 now, in the manner in which the invitations of mercy 
 are brought to bear on individual minds. Spiritual 
 instruction is infused into the minds of sinners gradu- 
 ally, so that, though the provisions of grace were, in 
 themselves, rendered complete when our blessed Sav- 
 iour bowed his head and said, "It is finished,'' yet they 
 do not appear in their completeness, to an individual 
 mind, till the elements of the Christian system have 
 been successively received. While this process of ac- 
 quiring the elementary conceptions of the gospel 
 
MARRIAGE OF THE KING'S SON. 261 
 
 scheme is going on, the individual is in a state analo- 
 gous to that of the whole Jewish mind previously to 
 the coming of Christ. The teachings of childhood, in 
 the case of those who have a Christian education, have, 
 at least, accomplished the object of the first call. In 
 their maturer convictions they hear the declaration, 
 all things are ready — they perceive that nothing is 
 wanting for their salvation but that they should cor- 
 dially comply with the invitations of the gospel. How 
 often has this statement been verified in the experience 
 of those who now hear me. Christian instruction, as 
 it has fallen from the lips of parents, and teachers, 
 and pastors, or as it has beamed into the mind from 
 the perused chapters of the Bible, has made a distinct 
 impression that you were invited to the gospel feast. 
 The conviction, however, was not deep and urgent. 
 Other objects occupied your mind, and you easily re- 
 sisted the call, and "would not come." Then came a 
 more pressing invitation. Some special and peculiarly 
 adapted appeal was made. The providence of God 
 and the strivings of the Holy Spirit concurred. It 
 was to your convictions a golden opportunity, a favor- 
 able time. It was as if new messengers had come, 
 saying, "Behold, now is the accepted time; behold, 
 now is the day of salvation." Then you took a course 
 which seems as if you had intended to illustrate what 
 follows. "But they made light of it, and went their 
 ways, one to his farm, and another to his merchandise." 
 This is not a mere history of the action of the Jewish 
 
262 SERMON XIV. 
 
 mind in certain circumstances. It is an exemplifica- 
 tion of the workings of human depravity. Men do 
 naturally, and as is said in another place, "with one 
 consent," make light of the provisions of mercy by 
 indicating a clear preference of worldly good, over 
 the rich gifts of the heavenly grace. The force of the 
 statement, "they made light of it," is to be estimated 
 by what it was that they thus lightly esteemed, and 
 the comparative value of the consideration to which 
 they gave the preference. To make light of a small 
 proffered favor might be a comparatively trifling of- 
 fence. But when a subject, in an humble and depend- 
 ent condition, makes light of an invitation to the mar- 
 riage festival of the son of his king, the ingratitude 
 and wickedness of such a contempt bears some propor- 
 tion to the excellency of the provision, the design with 
 which it was made, and the greatness and goodness — 
 the real glory of the reigning monarch. But what is 
 the provision which God has proffered you in the gos- 
 pel? It is a provision as rich as infinite wisdom and 
 benevolence, with boundless resources and unlimited 
 power, could make. As a great earthly king puts in 
 requisition all his power and skill in making a mar- 
 riage feast for his son, so God is represented as spar- 
 ing nothing in his provisions of grace. He proffers to 
 you a full participation in the glory that belongs to 
 the union of Christ and his church. He invites you 
 into his own mansion. As Solomon show^ed the queen 
 of Sheba "his wisdom, and the house he had built, and 
 the meat of his table, and the sitting of his servants, 
 
MARRIAGE OF THE KING'S SON. 263 
 
 and the attendance of liis ministers, and their apparel, 
 and his cup-bearers, and his ascent by which he went 
 up into the house of the Lord" — so does God show you, 
 in the proffers of his grace, all the glory of his realm, 
 and then invites you to the full and free participation 
 of it all. 
 
 This it is, of which you make light, when you de- 
 cline the provisions of the gospel. In doing this 
 you do not simply undervalue the objects. By the 
 most obvious construction you make light of the glori- 
 ous author of these provisions. You make light of the 
 goodness that prompted the scheme, of the wisdom that 
 contrived it, of the power that energized it, and the 
 compassion that bled in its accomplishment. And 
 what is the object of your preference — the considera- 
 tion for which you renounce the glorious provisions of 
 divine grace ? If the consideration were a great one 
 — if it were an ample possession of the goods of for- 
 tune, with the enjoyments of science, and literature, 
 and refined society, and an eternal round of earthly 
 pleasures, accompanied Avith perfect health, and an 
 immortal existence, the prospect of obtaining so great 
 an end by neglecting heaven, might seem to palliate 
 the guilt and folly. But nothing of this kind is once 
 thought of. The gospel feast is made light of, for the 
 mere purpose of enjoying or seeking the most tran- 
 sient and uncertain wordly good. No other earthly ad- 
 vantage is referred to in the text but possessions. This 
 is natural, because wealth stands as the representative 
 of all the earthly good w^hich man can attain to. 
 
264 SERMON XIV. 
 
 Hence mammon is called the god of this world, and 
 an apostle has told us that the love of money is the root 
 of all evil. 
 
 The servants that trifled with the invitation of their 
 king, however, did not possess the apology of a need- 
 ful care of their possessions. The farm and the mer- 
 chandise may probably refer to an estate in the one 
 case, and in the other to the means of acquiring one. 
 The farm is the villa to which a wealthy man retires 
 to enjoy his gains. The merchandise is the active 
 business which is prosecuted for the purpose of amass- 
 ing a fortune. Each alike becomes the occasion of 
 making light of the provisions of the gospel. Hence, 
 the rich and the poor slight the heavenly treasure for 
 the same reason. One for the country-seat already 
 in possession, another for the commerce by which he 
 means to buy one. One for gold in the bank, another 
 for gold in California. One for a large estate, an- 
 other for a more limited possession. All, however, are 
 swayed by the same spirit — a preference of worldly 
 good over the rich and eternal provisions of God's 
 grace. 
 
 In all this it is easy to be deceived. It is not sin- 
 ful to be rich. It is not a crime to enorao:e in com- 
 merce and to gain a standing with our merchant princes. 
 It is not wicked to pick up gold on the placers 
 where God has scattered it. But it is wicked to take 
 the gifts of a bountiful Providence and to allow them 
 a place in the mind superior to that of the treasures 
 of the gospel. No form of wickedness is more deeply 
 
MARRIAGE OF THE KING'S SON. 265 
 
 censured in the Scriptures than this over-estimate of 
 worldly good, when compared with heavenly treasures. 
 The marriage feast is now easily slighted. A few 
 paltry gains -are preferred to it. But, ah! beloved 
 friends, another estimate shall be made. The time of 
 the dread assize comes on apace. 
 
 The heavenly treasures are revealed, in their glory ; 
 and earthly good, in its emptiness. Look, now, thou 
 profane Esau, upon thy bright and glorious birthright, 
 and the mess of pottage for which thou didst barter 
 it. Look, covetous Achan, on the silver and the 
 goodly Babylonish vest and wedge of gold which thou 
 didst prefer to the favor of the Grod of Israel. Look, 
 ye worldly Christians, Ananias and Sapphira, upon 
 the paltry price kept back, the price for which ye 
 sold your inheritance among the blest. Look, thou 
 treacherous Judas, at the thirty pieces of silver told 
 out in thy hand as that for which thy cunning traffick- 
 ing spirit could deliberately sell its Saviour and all 
 the eternal blessings of his grace. Look, thou retired 
 man of wealth, who dost prefer thy gains to treasures 
 laid up in heaven — look at thy grounds and buildings, 
 held by others ; at thy body, shut up in the narrow 
 grave ; and thy unforgiven spirit, barred out of the 
 heavenly mansion. Look, thou busy merchant, at 
 thy commerce and its uncertain profits, and contrast 
 these with thy spiritual estate, and tell us, if thou 
 knowest, what will it profit a man if he gain the 
 whole world and lose his soul? Look, all ye that 
 have made light of God's feast of love, because ye 
 23 
 
266 SERMON XIV. 
 
 preferred the trifles of earth to the heavenly riches; 
 because ye chose those glittering toys in preference to 
 the eternal favor of your Maker — look at j^our work 
 of self-destruction, and tell us if it be' not folly in 
 those invited to the marriage to make light of it, and 
 to turn one to his farm, and another to his merchan- 
 dise. 
 
 In addition to this turning away from the provisions 
 of mercy, a portion of those that received the mes- 
 sage persecuted to the death the preachers of the gos- 
 pel. " The remnant took his servants and entreated 
 them spitefully, and slew them." 
 
 To those who have the least acquaintance with the 
 history of the early church, nothing need be said to 
 justify this prediction. The beheading of John and 
 the stoning of Stephen, and the cruel murder of thou- 
 sands of the servants of God, during the first centu- 
 ries, are most exact fulfilments of what is here de- 
 clared. If it be asked what we have to do with 
 this ; I answer, the passage is, at least, a standing 
 monument of the tendencies of human depravity. As 
 the dilapidated temples and broken statues of Egypt 
 and Athens are proofs of human genius, and of the 
 tendencies of the human mind to produce works of art, 
 so these records of ancient persecution are monuments 
 of the native tendencies of the human heart to resist 
 with a deadly hate the claims of God. If such de- 
 velopments seldom appear in our happy country, at 
 the present time, it is because Christianity has dis- 
 placed cruel superstitions, and infused a portion of its 
 
MARRIAGE OF THE KING'S SON. 267 
 
 gentleness into our civil and political institutions. 
 But human nature in its tendencies is the same. 
 There is a depth and power in depraved principles 
 which might fill any reflecting mind, lest, like Hazael, 
 Avhen the prophet predicted that he should murder his 
 royal master, he might think himself safe, Avhile the 
 seeds of deepest crime were sprouting in his heart. 
 
 As a dreadful finale of this second act of the drama, 
 we have the terrible retribution of the incensed sove- 
 reign. " When the kino; heard thereof, he was wroth : 
 and he sent forth his armies, and destroyed those mur- 
 derers, and burnt up their city." 
 
 A primary reference is had here to the destruction 
 of the Jewish state. The Roman legions were his 
 armies. The investment of Jerusalem by Titus, the 
 sack and burning of the city, and the slaughter of 
 more than eleven hundred thousand of Jews, made 
 good the prediction. Yet, we are not to suppose that 
 this temporal judgment was all. This destruction was 
 but the door of entrance to an everlasting destruction 
 from the presence of the Lord and the glory of his 
 power. The judgments of God, like his mercies, are 
 on a scale of immense magnificence. When he calls 
 Abraham, and makes a covenant with him, it is that 
 his spiritual offspring may become more numerous than 
 the stars. When he gives dominion to Christ, it ex- 
 tends over the whole earth, and his ransomed people 
 are a great multitude which no man can number. So 
 his judgments are a flood brought upon the world of 
 the ungodly — fire from heaven upon the cities of the 
 
268 SERMON XIV. 
 
 plain, and Jerusalem sacked by the Roman armies; 
 and, in the final day, all nations are gathered before 
 him, and divided into two great companies, and made 
 respectively the objects of his never-ending blessing 
 and curse. Yet, in this broad sweep of judgment, in- 
 dividuals can never be neglected. Each individual 
 sinner that has heard the invitation to the marriage 
 feast, and would not come, is involved in the general 
 overthrow of God's enemies, and every one of us will 
 be either one of these objects of the Divine displea- 
 sure, or one of those that have been constrained to 
 accept the invitation of mercy. 
 
 After this dreadful conclusion of the struggle be- 
 tween the king and those invited to his banquet, the 
 story proceeds with the account of the successful part 
 of the work of calling in the invited guests. 
 
 Here, also, as in what we called the first act of the 
 drama, we have the description of a delightful work. 
 " The servants went out into the highways, and ga- 
 thered together all as many as they found, both bad 
 and good : and the wedding was furnished with guests." 
 That is, the messengers of salvation turned to the 
 Gentiles. They found some, like Cornelius the centu- 
 rion, who seemed to be w^aiting for the kingdom of 
 God. Others, of the most abandoned character, lis- 
 tened to the call, and gladly complied with the invi- 
 tation. Multitudes from every class of society and 
 every grade of moral character, embraced the gospel 
 and became participants in all its benefits. The be- 
 
MARRIAGE OF THE KING'S SON. 269 
 
 nevolent design of God in making the provisions of 
 grace is not frustrated. If some count themselves 
 unworthy of eternal life, the gospel is made effectual 
 for others. Here the Divine goodness appears again 
 successfully working, as it did in the first part, in 
 making the provisions. To Christ it was promised 
 that he should have a seed to serve him. That pro- 
 mise is fulfilled. The word of God, though resisted, 
 is not hound. It has free course and is glorified. A 
 mad and persecuting Saul is subdued, and sits like the 
 recovered demoniac, at the feet of Jesus, clothed and 
 in his right mind. A polluted idolater is washed and 
 sanctified. A proud philosopher is made an humble 
 disciple. Lofty princes and lowly peasants, persons 
 of probity and honor, publicans and harlots, all, as 
 many as the messengers find, both bad and good, are 
 gathered, and are seen pressing into the heavenly 
 banquet. 
 
 It is so still. You may decline the invitation, yet 
 the gospel shall not be proclaimed in vain. While 
 you fancy yourself too good to need the gracious pro- 
 visions of the gospel, others of higher quality shall 
 shame your pretensions by confessing humbly to God 
 that they are among the chief of sinners and " less 
 than the least of all the saints." While you regard 
 yourself as being too wise to embrace a system which 
 was to philosophic Greeks foolishness, others, from the 
 highest walks of science, shall bring their laurels and 
 lay them at the feet of Christ, and confess themselves 
 only childlike learners in his school. While you shall 
 
 23* 
 
270 SERMON XIV. 
 
 think of yourself as too highly elevated in your social 
 position to embrace the Christian faith, others from 
 higher stations shall count it their greatest honor to 
 \)e permitted to come to the marriage feast. Moses 
 refused to be called the son of Pharaoh's daughter, 
 and preferred affliction with the people of God to all 
 the treasures of Egj^pt ; and from that day to the pre- 
 sent hour kings have been glad to reckon themselves 
 among the servants of God, and to hope in the Divine 
 mercy as displayed in the provisions of the gospel. 
 Or, if you think of yourself as too inconsiderable to 
 make it reasonable that you should be the object of 
 such a provision, you may reflect that the condescen- 
 sion of God is as extraordinary as his greatness, that 
 he feeds the raven and sustains the sparrow. It is 
 equally manifest from the workings of his providence 
 and the revelations of his word, that " he lifts up the 
 poor from the dust, and the beggar from the dung- 
 hill, to set them among princes, and to cause them to 
 inherit the throne of glory." Or, if you regard your- 
 self as too sinful and unworthy ever to be made a par- 
 taker of his grace, you may remember that our Re- 
 deemer came to call sinners to repentance, and that 
 many who have been sunken down into the lowest 
 depths of depravity have been recovered by the gos- 
 pel. The scheme of mercy has no respect to the pre- 
 vious differences existing among men. The feast is 
 provided for all. The invitation is universal. The 
 servants gather together all, as many as they find, 
 both good and bad. 
 
MARRIAGil OF THE KING'S SON. 271 
 
 But let every one invited to partake of the provi- 
 sions of the gospel remember this, too, that if he does 
 not choose to come, the scheme of grace will not fail. 
 If you make light of the provision, your poor servant 
 may receive it. If you sit in the sanctuary and hear 
 the gospel, and turn from it to your farm or your mer- 
 chandise, distant heathens will embrace it. If you 
 make light of it, some d^ang malefactor will be called 
 in and enjoy the provisions which you scorned. You 
 have been often called. In the name of the Master of 
 the feast, I invite you again. " All things are ready : 
 come unto the marriage." Yes, all things in this pre- 
 paration for conferring heavenly blessings, are ready. 
 Christ has appeared, fulfilling the types and predic- 
 tions of the ancient Scriptures. The Lamb of God 
 that taketh away the sins of the world has been sacri- 
 ficed. The offering is complete. He bowed his head 
 and said, ''It is finished." The volume of inspired in- 
 struction is completed. The messengers have gone 
 forth. The Holy Spirit has seconded their endeavors. 
 The call has reached your understanding, quickened 
 your conscience, and touched your heart. I charge it 
 on you who have been instructed in Christianity, that 
 you know your duty. Though you may not be always 
 alike sensible to its claims, yet often, when the calls 
 of this gospel sound in your ears, you are fully aware 
 of your obligations to comply with them. Through 
 long custom, it may seem a small matter to make 
 light of it. Yet, in making light of it, you make 
 light of the great God that formed the scheme; of the 
 
272 SERMON XIV. 
 
 Saviour that died to carry it into practical operation, 
 and of all that long-suffering, and those heavenly 
 agencies, that are employed in it. You do this, too, 
 for a most unworthy and paltry consideration, the 
 mere possessions and enterprises of a few years, the 
 farms and merchandise of a brief, uncertain existence. 
 And yet, judgment lingers not. Mercy despised, 
 will bring awful retribution. Deep will be your sor- 
 row, and unavailing your regrets, when you shall see 
 that the blessings which were provided for you, arc 
 lost, and that others entered in and enjoyed them. 
 "When you shall see white robed millions of ransomed 
 souls standing within the battlements of heaven, and 
 yourself cast out. 
 
SERMON XY. 
 
 THE SPEECHLESS GUEST. 
 AND HE "WAS SPEECHLESS. Matthew xxii. 12. 
 
 This text is a part of that beautiful parable upon 
 wliicli the preceding discourse is founded. The pro- 
 visions of the gospel, the publishing of its invitations, 
 and the results, are set forth, as before stated, in the 
 story of a king making a wedding feast for his son. 
 The explanation is briefly this. The king preparing 
 the feast, represents God making the provisions of the 
 gospel. The sending forth of the servants to call 
 the invited guests, refers to the commissioning of the 
 living preachers as the messengers of Divine grace. 
 By those first invited making light of the invitation, 
 and persecuting the servants till the king Avas wroth, 
 and sent forth his armies and destroyed those mur- 
 derers, and burnt up their city, are intended the 
 Jewish people rejecting the gospel, and the conse- 
 quent destruction of themselves and of Jerusalem by 
 the Roman armies. The servants thence going into 
 the highways, and gathering together all as many as 
 they found, both bad and good, represents the gather- 
 ing of the Gentile nations to a participation of the 
 
274 SERMON XV. 
 
 blessings and institutions of the true religion. Ob- 
 serve, then, that this gathered multitude is not as- 
 sorted by any discriminations of character. The 
 servants gathered all, both bad and good. The cha- 
 racter of the assembly is represented by the whole of 
 Gentile Christendom, or by any Christian community, 
 be it large or small, where merely nominal and real 
 believers are mingled together. The result, then, of 
 the call has been seen. The Jews have been rejected, 
 and made the subjects of overwhelming judgments, 
 and the Gentiles have been called in and gathered 
 around the great festal board. 
 
 But another division is to be made, on the basis of 
 a difference of individual character. The king will 
 come in to see the guests. The last judgment is 
 obviously referred to. Instead of dwelling upon the 
 separation of the two great companies, the righteous 
 and the wicked, and their opposite destiny, he directs 
 our attention to an individual as being unfitted for 
 the blessings of his spiritual kingdom. This indivi- 
 dual is set before us, not as a remarkably sinful man, 
 not as stained with crime, or even as chargeable with 
 any immorality. He is simply unprepared. He has 
 not on a wedding garment. Force is added to this 
 feature of the parable, by adverting to the fact that 
 it was customary for the kings of the East to furnish, 
 gratuitously, all the guests on such occasions with 
 changes of raiment. This is the specific reason why 
 the unhappy person referred to was speechless when 
 
THE SPEECHLESS GUEST. 275 
 
 tlie king only said to liim, " Friend, how earnest thou 
 in hither, not having on a wedding garment?" 
 
 It is strictly accordant with the spirit of this part 
 of the parable to say, that if God should propose such 
 a question to you, ray unconverted hearer, this hour, 
 you would be speechless. How came you in this 
 Christian community, in the midst of these religious 
 privileges, in this sanctuary of God, without a prepa- 
 ration to enter into a spiritual participation of the 
 gospel feast ? You can give no reason that will 
 satisfy yourself. But a period will arrive when this 
 identical question will be propounded. You will not 
 be passed by in a crowd. God will ask you as an 
 individual, if you remain unconverted : "Friend, how 
 camest thou in hither, not having a wedding gar- 
 ment?" 
 
 YOU WILL BE SPEECHLESS. 
 
 A very little reflection luill serve to convince you 
 tJiat you cannot claim deliverance on any ground 
 according to latv. You have been for a long time 
 placed under the dominion of the law of God. You 
 have seen that its precept is exceeding broad. It 
 has demanded of you a supreme love to your Creator, 
 and a love to your fellow-men, equal to the love you 
 bear to yourself. It has perfectly commended itself 
 to your conscience, so that you have never in one 
 instance felt yourself bound to violate it from a sense 
 of duty. The authority from which this law has 
 emanated has been revealed to you as being as high 
 
276 SERMON XV. 
 
 and sacred as the law is holj. The rewards and 
 punishments by which that authority is sustained are 
 as influential as possible, rich as everlasting life, ter- 
 rific as eternal burnings. 
 
 If God, then, ask you, "Friend, how earnest thou 
 in hither, not having on a wedding garment?" you 
 will surely be speechless rather than attempt to set 
 up a plea oi not guilty. You have the most distinct 
 consciousness of having lived long in the habitual 
 transgression of the law of God. There will, then, 
 be no lack of testimony encouraging such a plea. 
 You will know that the omniscient Judge sees at a 
 glance every purpose of your heart. You cannot, 
 even now, retire to your chamber, and kneel down 
 alone before your Maker, and plead not guilty. You 
 cannot look up to him and say, Lord, thou knowest 
 that I have never violated thy holy law; that I have, 
 like the angels that are about thy throne, lived in 
 innocency, and now I come to present my nature to 
 thee all unsoiled and pure, and I expect to be received 
 and admitted to thy kingdom, because I am not guilty 
 of any transgressions against thee. If you can make 
 no such plea on your bended knees, alone in your 
 chamber, can you make it now when God asks you in 
 the judgment, " Friend, how camest thou in hither, 
 not having on the wedding garment?" No. You 
 are speechless. 
 
 Nor can you tuith any letter success attempt to plead 
 a justification before your Maker. A man may be 
 charged before a human tribunal with having violated 
 
THE SPEECHLESS GUEST. 277 
 
 tlie law, and yet, when the deeds which he was alleged 
 to have done are proved, and not denied, he may 
 sometimes set up a plea of justification and fully sus- 
 tain it, and demand and obtain a verdict in his own 
 favor. To illustrate this point let us contemplate an 
 instance, which is not unusual before our criminal 
 courts. A man is charged with deliberately taking 
 the life of a fellow-man. The facts alleged in the in- 
 dictment are proved, and not denied. But now, if the 
 counsel for the prisoner can show that the accused 
 was threatened by his victim with instant death, that 
 he was pushed to the very last extremity, and yet that 
 he forbore violent resistance, and that, when no other 
 alternative was left him but to suffer himself to be 
 basely murdered, or to strike at the life of his adver- 
 sary, he first warned his victim, and begged of him 
 not to compel him to spill his blood, and that only 
 when not another moment was left to protect himself 
 he struck the fatal blow : I say in such a case the 
 counsel will sustain the plea of justification, and 
 demand and obtain from an impartial jury the verdict 
 of justifiable homicide and the release of the prisoner. 
 So, also, if it can be made out clearly that the per- 
 petrator of the deed was deranged^ and fully believed 
 himself to be doing an act of kindness to his victim, 
 the plea of justification would be sustained, and the 
 release of the prisoner would be successfully sought. 
 In short, as our laws justly regard the guilt or inno- 
 cence of an accused party to depend upon the " qico 
 aiiimo,^' or the state of mind in which an act was 
 24 
 
278 SERxMON XV. 
 
 performed, any plea which fairly makes out that the 
 act of killing did not arise from malice aforethought, 
 or something equivalent thereto, is a successful plea 
 of justification. But you can set up no such plea 
 and defence for having transgressed the law of God. 
 
 You have not been compelled to violate the Divine 
 law in self-defence. You have not turned away from 
 your Maker, and clung with idolatrous fondness to 
 his gifts, as a necessary means of self-protection. 
 You never seriously thought for one moment that a 
 filial, childlike trust in your Heavenly Father would 
 do you any harm. You cannot plead that you have 
 been driven on by a mad delirium to violate the Divine 
 law. Indeed, your transgression cannot be charac- 
 terized as an act, or any number of acts ; it has been 
 rather a continuous state — you have deliberately lived 
 in sin, cherishing a spirit of alienation from God, re- 
 fusing overtures of grace, and saying to him, in the 
 cool deliberateness of a practical career contrary to 
 his commandments, Depart from me, for I desire not 
 the knowledge of thy ways. The more you inquire 
 into the state of mind with which this course is 
 taken, the more overwhelming will be the conviction 
 that you can maintain no plea of justification. If 
 you attempt it, you are speechless. 
 
 Nor can you 'plead any palliation in mitigation of 
 the severity of 2yunish7nent. It sometimes occurs, 
 when an accused person has been proved to be guilty 
 of all that has been alleged against him in the in- 
 dictment, that various palliations may be suggested 
 
THE SPEECHLESS GUEST. 279 
 
 in mitigation of the punishment. Thus, extreme 
 youth and mental imbecllltj, or great provocation, or 
 numerous and powerful temptations, are urged with 
 greater or less success. But can you, my impenitent 
 friend, bring forward any palliating circumstances in 
 relation to your sins against God ? You have known 
 enough to feel your obligation to cherish the sincere 
 intention of serving and pleasing your Maker. If 
 you had but one talent, you knew better than to hide 
 that in a napkin. Indeed, the more feeble and limited 
 your powers, the more obvious, in some sort, are the 
 motives for placing yourself under the wing of the 
 Divine protection. The government of God is so con- 
 stituted that those of -the most limited capacities can 
 serve him with equal acceptance to those possessing 
 the most exalted genius. It is not the vigor and 
 elevation of intellectual powers with which God is 
 pleased, but the sweetness of humility and the sim- 
 plicity of a teachable spirit. There can be nothing 
 to palliate the sin of pride and self-consequence in the 
 very feebleness that encourages humility and child- 
 like dependence. 
 
 Nor can you ]jilead as a palliation that you have 
 been exasperated and proiwked to sin against Grod. 
 In all the providences of the Lord towards 3^ou there 
 has been a strong preponderance of mercies over 
 chastisement. Every morning has shed upon you a 
 fresh baptism of sunlight, and given you new air to 
 breathe, and new supplies of food, and instruction, 
 and social blessings. The gospel has every day sent 
 
280 SERiMON XV. 
 
 new gleams of light into your mind ; or, if it has not 
 clone this, at least some of its great principles pre- 
 viously learned have attained to a resurrection from 
 " the burial-places of the memory," and in bright 
 garments, and with angel footsteps, have quietly 
 moved to and fro through all the chambers of your 
 soul, now hushing unruly passions, and now charging 
 upon the busy attention that she keep swept and 
 garnished every apartment for the reception of a 
 heavenly visitor, the entertainment of the Holy 
 Spirit. 
 
 And can you with any better grace plead a pallia- 
 tion from the temj^tations that beset youf To obtain 
 just views on this point, you must set over against 
 each other the temptations to sin and the induce- 
 ments to holiness. Contrast, then, for a moment, the 
 motives to right and wrong by which men are respec- 
 tively influenced. On the side of sin, the world has 
 set up its claims. On the side of holiness, God has ex- 
 ercised his authority and uttered his commands. The 
 world proifers its wealth, and pleasures, and honors. 
 These objects are made to glow before the minds of 
 men with a wonderful charm. But they are known 
 to be transient, and to fail of meeting human expec- 
 tations. On the other hand, God proffers peace of 
 conscience, the enjoyment of benevolent aflections, 
 and treasures laid up in heaven. The world offers 
 you the applause of a crowd of stupid admirers, if 
 you will walk in the ways of sin. God, to draw you 
 into the paths of holiness, proposes to invest you with 
 
THE SPEECHLESS GUEST. 281 
 
 bright garments, to put an immortal crown upon your 
 head, and to lead you on past the ranks of angels and 
 shining seraphs, and to cause you to sit down with 
 Christ upon his throne. The world may attempt to 
 deter you from the way of holiness, by pointing the 
 finger of scorn at you, and threatening you with its 
 curse. But its scorn is impotent, its curse is mo- 
 mentary. It can only kill the body, and after that it 
 hath no more that it can do. But God, to deter you 
 from sin, brings far higher motives. He threatens 
 to abandon you forever to raging passions, and keen 
 remorse, and black despair, and all the eternal agonies 
 of tK^ second death. The motives to sin are tran- 
 sient, feeble, human. The motives to holiness are 
 eternal, omnipotent, divine. They are high as God's 
 authority, pure as his character, charming as his voice 
 of mercy, and terrible as his eternal curse. The 
 motives to holiness vastly preponderate over the mo- 
 tives which exist in favor of sin. 
 
 A comparison of agencies on either side, also, shows 
 a similar result. The agency of wicked men, though 
 they be superior in point of numbers, is inferior in 
 power. Sin and violence are often victorious in the 
 onset ; but holy influences are permanent, and gain 
 a vast ultimate advantage. Pharaoh's influence was 
 once great, kingly, and formidable; while that of 
 Moses seemed weak and contemptible. But the in- 
 fluence of Pharaoh in favor of sin has been dead for 
 thousands of years ; or, rather, it has reacted against 
 sin itself, and Pharaoh's whole character and history 
 
 24* 
 
282 SERMON XV. 
 
 have stood forth as a fiery beacon to warn men to 
 beware of mad and imj^ious ambition. But the in- 
 fluence of Moses has been increasing from that day 
 to this. When he laid his body down in the grave, 
 the influence of his character, example, history, and 
 laws, was in its youth's first freshness. Now, it has 
 arisen to a vigorous and hardy manhood. It is seen 
 to-day moulding the legislation of all Christian states. 
 It gives character to the domestic arrangements of 
 millions of families. It sits on the benches of justice. 
 It pleads for international rights in the cabinets of 
 princes. Herod, and Julian, and Nero, have lost 
 their influence in favor of sin. Their very iTames 
 make transgressors shudder and turn back from the 
 way of death. But Paul and Augustin still exert 
 a powerful and wide-spread influence. Paine, and 
 Hume, and Voltaire, are suff'ering a constant diminu- 
 tion of influence in favor of sin; but Newton, and 
 Locke, and Butler, and Baxter, and Edwards, have a 
 fresh and youthful influence this very hour. The 
 ao;encies of men in favor of holiness are of a higher 
 and more permanent character than those in favor of 
 sin. " The righteous are had in everlasting remem- 
 brance, but the name of the wicked shall rot." 
 
 Then, as to spiritual agencies of a higher nature, 
 the preponderance is vast on the side of holiness. 
 Admit that Satan is a mighty being, and that men 
 have so easily and to such an extent yielded to his 
 influence, as to procure for him the title of the God 
 of this world, yet the agencies that act against him 
 
THE SPEECHLESS GUEST. 283 
 
 are incomparably more powerful than his own. For 
 there are also angels of light, strong and mightj ; and 
 besides, God the Holy Spirit is acting constantly 
 against him, aided by a perfect knowledge of all men, 
 and of the devices of the Tempter ; and with the ad- 
 vantages of unbounded resources and a perfect ubi- 
 quity. Plainly, then, there is a vast preponderance 
 of influence against sin compared with the influence 
 in its favor. Should you attempt, therefore, to plead 
 a palliation in mitigation of punishment, all this supe- 
 rior influence in favor of holiness would rise up be- 
 fore you to prevent it. The superior motives to holi- 
 ness would again recur, and fill you with shame. 
 The higher, and more permanent, and ever accumu- 
 lating influence of good men, and the remembered 
 power of the Holy Spirit, would cause to pass before 
 you the beautiful robe and the heavenly eternal feast 
 which had been so often and so winningly presented, 
 and your utterance would be choked before you could 
 speak a single word in palliation of your sins. Ag- 
 gravation alone would be the thought which would fill 
 your mind. That you would suppress, except an in- 
 articulate wail should indicate its presence. You 
 would be speechless. 
 
 But if you can plead nothing in you own favor on 
 the ground of law — if you can neither plead not 
 guilty, nor sustain a plea of justification, nor say one 
 word in palliation of your off'ences, it is equally clear 
 that you can utter no com'plaint of a ivant of means 
 to frepare for that day of scrutiny and trial. Could 
 
284 SERMON XV. 
 
 you complain of anything like scantiness in the pro- 
 visions of Divine grace ? As well might you complain 
 of a want of means for physical cleansing, when the 
 broad Pacific ocean laves your very feet ; or lament 
 your want of natural light, when the meridian sun 
 beams down upon you from a cloudless sky. None 
 have ever applied to that Saviour for cleansing or in- 
 struction, and been sent away unsatisfied. You have 
 known this. You have been taught it in his word. 
 You have read it in the history of his providence. 
 The wedding garment was prepared for you ; i/ou 
 declined to put it on. When God shall say: "How 
 camest thou in hither, not having on a wedding 
 garment?" you Avill be speechless. 
 
 And can you complain that you enjoyed 7io good 
 opportunity for obtaining the benefits of these pro- 
 visions ? What were all those sacred sabbaths which 
 you have been permitted to spend among a Chris- 
 tian people? If you are now twenty-one years 
 of. age, you have had three entire years of sabbaths. 
 If you are forty-two years old, you have had six. If 
 you are fifty-six years of age, you have enjoyed 
 eigJit such years: a time sufficient to acquire a public 
 education, and qualify yourself for one of the learned 
 professions. During all these years of sabbaths your 
 time has been secured to you for this express object, 
 both by the habits of the Christian community, and 
 the authority of God. This amount of time has been 
 much more valuable for such a purpose, too, on ac- 
 count of its being distributed along one day in seven, 
 
THE SPEECHLESS GUEST. 285 
 
 leaving in the intervals seasons for reflection, and 
 for the practical application to the ordinary duties 
 of life of the lessons of the Sabbath. Nor have you 
 been barely permitted to enjoy these opportunities. 
 The Divine authority has solemnly forbidden you to 
 use these years of sabbaths for any other purpose 
 than the making a sure preparation for meeting your 
 God in judgment. But besides this, it ought to be 
 said that all your years and days have been one con- 
 tinuous good opportunity for making your peace with 
 God. The command to labor and the necessities of 
 toil tend to promote your spiritual good. This is 
 manifest from the fact that the gospel does in reality 
 act more successfully upon the industrious classes 
 than it does upon persons of great leisure. The com- 
 mand to seek first the kingdom of God and his 
 righteousness covers every day and every hour of 
 your life. If you attempt to say, I have had no good 
 opportunities, one glance at the past will render you 
 speechless. 
 
 And can you with any better grace pretend that 
 you have had no generous and earnest offers of salva- 
 tion? How many faithful sermons have made their 
 appeals to your understanding, your conscience, and 
 your heart? How many admonitions have you been 
 favored with from Christian parents or Christian 
 friends? How many times has the word of God, in 
 all the authority of its solemn commands and in all 
 the tenderness of a Saviour's invitations, fallen upon 
 your ears? How often have solemn, providential 
 
286 SERMON XV. 
 
 Avarnings roused your slumbering conscience, and the 
 Holy Spirit convinced you of sin ? Will you say that 
 you have cause for complaint because you had no 
 generous and earnest offer of salvation? No, you 
 will be speechless. 
 
 But can you say that God was not forbearing ^ 
 You could certainly have no just ground of com- 
 plaint if the provisions of salvation had never been 
 made. The law is righteous that condemns you. 
 But if provisions the most ample have been made, 
 and numerous and golden opportunities have been 
 granted for profiting by them, and their benefits have 
 been generously offered, and earnestly urged but for 
 once, and you have declined them deliberately, you 
 must most unquestionably be speechless. But, oh, 
 when you reflect on the forbearance of God, how 
 must it overwhelm you? Thousands younger than 
 yourself have been cut down in their sins. You have 
 been spared. When your neglect of your Saviour 
 and your deliberate refusing of his offers of mercy 
 have demanded instant judgment, the sword has been 
 held back, and you have been spared. When pesti- 
 lence has passed over the community, and, like the 
 destroying angel in Egypt, scarcely left a house in 
 which there was not one dead, you have been pre- 
 served, though you performed no act of faith like the 
 people of God, sprinkling the blood of their passover 
 upon the lintel of their doors. When disease has 
 brought you down to the gates of the grave, you 
 have been spared. When a hundred offers of salva- 
 
THE SPEECHLESS GUEST. 287 
 
 tlon have been made, and every one of them coldly 
 slighted, God has still waited to be gracious : and 
 your insulted Saviour has pleaded, as in the parable 
 of the barren fig-tree. Spare it this year also. If, 
 after all this, you shall be found without the wedding 
 garment, you can never say that no forbearance was 
 manifested towards you. You will be speechless. 
 
 But, if you cannot claim deliverance in any way 
 on the ground of law, nor complain of any want of 
 means to prepare for the last trial, neither can you 
 cry for mercy at that late period. Then there is no 
 encouragement for hope. No declaration of ''he 
 that calleth on the name of the Lord shall be saved." 
 Probation is closed. The silver trumpet of the gos- 
 pel has ceased to sound. Every mouth is stopped, 
 and all the world is guilty before God. 
 
 And yet, here is an unconverted sinner, one of a 
 mixed multitude of bad and good which the servants 
 have gathered. The king has not yet come in to 
 see the guests ; and far from being speechless, he is 
 uttering himself with the greatest readiness and self- 
 possession. And how is he employing his lips dur- 
 ing the brief period allotted him? Is it in crying for 
 help from above, and in asking of those that have 
 obtained such a blessing, hoAV he shall become clothed 
 with the wedding garment? 0, no! he is endeavor- 
 ing to justify himself. He is making complaints. 
 He is sustaining himself in present neglect by pro- 
 mising a gradual improvement and a cordial recep- 
 tion of the wedding garment at a future day. He is 
 
288 SERMON XV. 
 
 acting tlie part of an impudent and indolent servant, 
 •who boasts before strangers of his foresight, of the 
 manner in which he will be prepared to meet his 
 Master, and justify himself, when he knows that the 
 first glance of that Master's eye will fill him with 
 confusion, and palsy his tongue for very shame. 
 How easily, and fluently, and even plausibly he can 
 defend himself against all our reasoning and remon- 
 strances. His tongue is as the pen of a ready writer. 
 But hark! it is announced that the king has come in 
 to see the guests. The voice of the poor, self- 
 deluded sinner falters. His parched tongue cleaves 
 to the roof of his mouth. The king fixes his eye 
 upon him: ^'Friend, how camest thou in hither, not 
 having on a wedding garment?" He is speechless. 
 The command is given: "Bind him hand and foot, 
 and cast him into outer darkness ; there shall be 
 weeping and gnashing of teeth." Must, then, every 
 tie be broken that bound him to that favored com- 
 munity? May he not cling to a brother or sister, 
 the loved companions of childhood? May he not 
 hold by the hand a father or mother, and for their 
 sakes be led along to the feast? May he not then 
 plead the prayers of a sainted wife, and cling to her 
 loved form, and walk close by her side ? No — the 
 command is imperative: ''Bind him hand and foot." 
 But may he not abide in their presence, though in 
 chains? No: "Cast him out." And shall not he, 
 the wretched sufferer, at least have the poor conso- 
 lation of uttering his complaints? No, there shall 
 
THE SPEECHLESS GUEST. 289 
 
 be no complaining there; no, nothing but "wailing 
 and gnashing of teeth." My unconverted friend, 
 may not this be your case ? Speak, then, while you 
 can, in the only way which wisdom or propriety can 
 dictate. Ask of your pastors and spiritual guides, 
 "What shall I do to be saved?" Go to your Christian 
 friends, especially to those in whom you confide, and 
 beg of them to pray for you. Tell them that you 
 have not asked it as a mere form, but that your eter- 
 nal interests are at stake, and that you desire to 
 secure the fervent and efiectual prayers of the righte- 
 ous on your behalf. Go to the throne of the heavenly 
 grace, and implore the mercy of your God. Adopt 
 the resolution so well expressed by the poet : — 
 
 " I'll go to Jesus, though my sin 
 Hath like a mountain rose ; 
 I know his courts, I'll enter in, 
 Whatever may oppose. 
 
 " Prostrate I'll lie before his throne, 
 And there my guilt confess ; 
 I'll tell him, I'm a wretch undone 
 Without his sovereign grace." 
 
 Yes, go, while you are not compelled to be speech- 
 less; and the Lord be with thy spirit. 
 
 25 
 
SERMON XYI. 
 
 REQUITAL OF GIFTS DEMANDED. 
 
 If there be first a willing mind, it is accepted accorditJg 
 TO that a man hatii, and not according to that he hath not. 
 ^2 Cor. viii. 12. 
 
 There is a beautifully exact correspondence be- 
 tween our duties and our privileges. If God demand 
 of us a particular service, it will be found that tlie 
 requirement has been always py^eceded by a corre- 
 sponding he7iefit. Hence, every good act performed 
 by man is induced by prevenient grace, inclining him 
 thereto not only, but it is, also, a result of a pre- 
 venient, providential bestowment, rendering the duty 
 performed a mere requital, a paying back to God 
 w4iat was originally rnd really his own. 
 
 In our text, the apostle refers to one specific gift 
 of God, and to the obligation devolving on us from 
 its possession. The gift is that of property, and the 
 corresponding duty is alms- giving. He had just be- 
 fore called their attention to the example of Christ, 
 and intimated that their Saviour had given up his 
 possessions for the good of others, and that the large- 
 ness of his sacrifice, in this respect, corresponded 
 
REQUITAL OF GIFTS DEMANDED. 291 
 
 with the magnitude of his estate. '' For ye know," 
 says he, '' the grace of our Lord Jesus Christ, that 
 though he was rich, yet for your sakes he became 
 poor, that ye through his poverty might be rich." 
 He then adverts to the desire which the Corinthian 
 Christians had manifested a year before to contribute 
 to the relief of the poor, and calls upon them to give 
 expression to that desire now, in action. '' Now, 
 therefore," says he, *' perform the doing of it; that, 
 as there was a readiness to will, so there may be a 
 performance also out of that which ye have." Im- 
 mediately upon this, he takes occasion to make this 
 general and broad statement ; a statement which will 
 apply to other gifts and corresponding obligations, as 
 well as to the possession of property and the duty of 
 alms-giving. " For if there be first a willing mind, 
 it is accepted according to that a man hath, and not 
 according to that he hath not." With this explica- 
 tion of the text, I am prepared to state my object. 
 It is to unfold and apply the truth contained in the 
 following 
 
 PROPOSITION. 
 God claims from men nothing but a proper 
 requital for gifts which he has first be- 
 stowed upon them. 
 
 I do not mean to maintain that no other motives 
 are to be urged upon us but such as are drawn imme- 
 diately from the Divine beneficence. But I do not 
 intend to show you that every claim, which God has 
 
292 SERMON XVI. 
 
 preferred, has come to you as the embassy of a noble 
 prince, preceded by a royal present. These gifts in- 
 timate both the kind and the amount of the requital 
 ■which ought to be rendered back, and often their 
 silent influence is the only specific call that is made 
 for the corresponding obligation. The refreshment 
 which they bring insinuates the obligation to make a 
 return; and the elastic joy which they inspire inti- 
 mates the duty of grateful praise. 
 
 A few select instances will serve to set the fact 
 which we have asserted in a perspicuous light, and 
 prepare the way for exhibiting some of the beneficent 
 influences of such a palpable correspondence between 
 the gifts of God and the duties of men. 
 
 Your corporeal frame is a wonderful specimen of 
 the Divine skill. It is adapted alike to minister to 
 your good and to requite its Maker with a service 
 corresponding to its nature. Creative power, and a 
 kind and w^atchful providence, have compacted and 
 trained that frame, and imparted to it powers of great 
 vigor and elasticity. For, though your body may be 
 feeble compared with that of some of the species, yet 
 it is capable of such varied and useful action, and, when 
 badly directed, possesses such a power for evil, that 
 it may well be said of it that it is " fearfully and 
 wonderfully made." Now, we all say of these powers 
 that they evince an intention of providing for the 
 preservation and protection of this tent of the soul, 
 and also for the happiness of the interior inhabitant. 
 
 But, while it is adapted to this end, it is equally 
 
REQUITAL OF GIFTS DEMANDED. 293 
 
 well adapted to a corresponding service of God. If 
 you employ those limbs in going about doing good ; 
 if your hands are occupied in relieving the neces- 
 sitous, or in active toil to acquire the means of serv- 
 ing God; and if your tongue be occupied with in- 
 structing the ignorant, pleading the cause of right- 
 eousness, and praising its Maker, you are only 
 making a proper requital. You are but rendering 
 back to God what was his by the highest of all rights, 
 the right of creation. You may, then, in application 
 to these returns, with equal propriety employ the lan- 
 guage of David to God, when he spoke of the rich 
 materials that he had prepared for the temple : ^' All 
 things come of thee, and of thine own have we given 
 thee." 
 
 God has also given you an immortal mind. It is 
 made capable of boundless and unending enjoyment. 
 It is equally capable of rendering back to its Creator 
 a glad requital, corresponding exactly to the nature 
 of the gift. There are spread before it a vast variety 
 of objects. It may derive benefit from them all, and 
 yet bring back all its powers invigorated by action, 
 and enriched by experience, and lay them down as 
 a thankful requital on the altar of the Lord. It 
 may enjoy the things of sense without becoming the 
 drudge of sensual desires. It may rise and luxuriate 
 amid the higher beauties of the physical creation, 
 and only improve its own nature, and acquire higher 
 and purer views of the Maker of all things. It may 
 come to God directly with all its powers employed in 
 
 25* 
 
294 SERMON XVI. 
 
 adoration, and love, and praise. And suet a course 
 of action is only a proper requital for the gifts which 
 God has first bestowed. 
 
 It is equally manifest, also, that the measure of 
 this return is to be proportioned exactly to the large- 
 ness of the gifts. There will be no disproportion in 
 the service, if you make all your corporeal powers as 
 a band of faithful laborers ; and if your understand- 
 ing be employed in making out their work, and your 
 will in leading them to industrious activity. Nor 
 will you render to God aught besides that which was 
 previously his own, if you bring all your intellectual 
 and moral powers to stand ever ready, like the angels 
 by his throne, to do Jiis bidding. 
 
 If you are intrusted with property, whether derived 
 from your parents, or your own industry, it is a gift 
 of the Divine providence. He intended that you 
 should receive blessings by its means, but it is his 
 gift, and all that he requires of you in alms for the 
 poor, in donations for sending the gospel to the hea- 
 then, and in building up the institutions of the 
 church, is really nothing but a requital for his mer- 
 cies, a paying him back that which is his own. Here 
 also, as in the other cases, not only the kind but the 
 measure of the obligation is determined by the bounty 
 of God to you. He has made you his steward. What- 
 ever you possess is a charity fund, intrusted to you 
 by a liberal benefactor. You are to make such 
 appropriations to your own immediate use, as you 
 believe, after conscientious and scrupulous inquiry, 
 
REQUITAL OF GIFTS DEMANDED. 205 
 
 "will further the benevolent intention of the donor. 
 To do this, is only to give to God that "which is his 
 own, to make a fair requital for his benefits. 
 
 Has he among the bounties of his Providence given 
 you children? You cannot do less, if you would make 
 a proper acknowledgment of the gift, than to conse- 
 crate those children to God ; train them for his ser- 
 vice, and seek to impart to their souls such a clear 
 and brilliant polish, as shall make them reflect the . 
 image of their Maker. Such a requital is demanded 
 by the very nature of the gift. 
 
 Has God given you learning, disciplined your men- 
 tal powers, and enriched you with " the gems of wis- 
 dom and the pearls of knowledge ?" You cannot do 
 less than to use these advantages for communicating 
 to others the same treasures. It is only a fair and 
 proper requital, if you will use all those acquirements 
 in diffusing instruction, and especially in making 
 known the unsearchable riches of Christ. 
 
 All our obligations to send the gospel to the desti- 
 tute, meet a similar and delightful correspondence 
 in the gifts which we enjoy. God has imparted to us, 
 without money and without price, the amplest provi- 
 sions for our spiritual wants. He has given us the 
 infinite sacrifice of Christ, to buy our pardon and our 
 redemption from hell. He has given us his holy word, 
 and a living ministry, and a visible church. Without 
 these we had been like the heathen, that have not 
 heard of Christ. He has also given us a holy influence 
 from above to restrain, and enlighten, and sanctify us. 
 
296 SERMON XVI. 
 
 In all of these respects, we are asked only to make 
 a suitable requital to give back to God that "which is 
 his own. In putting into our hands the provisions of 
 his grace, God has treated us as a man would a large 
 company for whom he had made a most hospitable 
 and sumptuous banquet. He has spread his table. 
 It extends around the globe. The entire human 
 family are seated closely on either side throughout 
 its whole length. He has put into our hands the 
 cup of salvation, and bidden us to drink freely, 
 and to pass it on with the charge, always accom- 
 panying its progress, to pass it on still. If we 
 have drunk of it, can we do less than to become par- 
 ticipants of the benevolence that placed it in our 
 hands, and send it onwards till it come around the 
 circle of the earth, bearing the imprint of the lips of 
 every living human being ? Can anything less than 
 such a practical appreciation be a proper requital for 
 God's benevolence to us? 
 
 Thus, though other reasons may be given for the 
 performance of our duties, every act of service which 
 we can possibly render to God may be regarded 
 as nothing else than a grateful response for his gifts 
 to us — a rendering back to him that which was his 
 own. 
 
 One of the good influences of that arrangement by 
 which God's gifts involve our obligations, is observ- 
 able in the happy distribution which it makes of 
 moral duties among men in different conditions. 
 
 The providence of God has distributed blessings 
 
REQUITAL OF GIFTS DEMANDED. 297 
 
 with great munificence not only, but also with aston- 
 ishing variety. 
 
 The human frame possesses in different individuals 
 the greatest inequalities of vigor and alertness, and 
 the most wonderful differences of facility for different 
 occupations. These diverse qualities bring along 
 with them corresponding diversities of obligation. 
 
 So the minds of men are greatly varied both by 
 their original structure and by the influences to which 
 they have been subjected during the successive stages 
 of their development. 
 
 Then again, worldly possessions are distributed 
 with the greatest possible inequality and variety 
 which can exist between the opulence of the wealth- 
 iest princes and the squalid poverty of the most de- 
 graded beggar. 
 
 A similar variety is dispensed in leai'ning, and 
 personal influence, and gospel privileges. 
 
 These varieties impart an equally various distribu- 
 tion of duties. They effectually preclude men from 
 rushing in too great numbers into any particular 
 spheres of usefulness to the neglect of others. If 
 men become enamored with the philanthropy of 
 Howard, and are fired with zeal to " go and do like- 
 wise," and relieve thousands of suffering prisoners 
 by their benefactions and visits of mercy, they find 
 that God has not given them Howard's estate. Then, 
 having imbibed his spirit, they impart according to 
 their small possessions ; and employ their hands, 
 their minds, and their prayers to accomplish in other 
 
298 SERMON XVI. 
 
 ways services equally important to the cause of God, 
 and safer to their humility. So, if men in great 
 numbers burn with ardor to enter the sacred office, 
 on witnessing its untold power for good in some re- 
 markable instance, they become convinced that God 
 has not given them the peculiar capacities that fit 
 men for such a work. Thence they satisfy them- 
 selves by defraying the expense of educating a suit- 
 able candidate, and turn their own minds and hands 
 to such employments as will be a proper requital for 
 God's peculiar gifts to them. And thus it is, that 
 though an enthusiastic rush is ever and anon created 
 for some great department of duty, as if all useful- 
 ness were to be found in that one form of action, the 
 varied distribution of the Divine bounties always indi- 
 cates so clearly a variety of corresponding obligations 
 that extravagance is checked, and a fair proportion 
 of the piety of the church is distributed in all the 
 varied occupations of Christian usefulness. 
 
 A higher and more manifest advantage of this ar- 
 rangement is observable in its influence on our sense 
 of obligation to God, and in enhancing the power of 
 the motives to perform our duty. And here you will 
 allow me to call your attention to several particu- 
 lars. 
 
 I. The ineasure of your duty is re7idered palpably 
 exact. 
 
 You are not asked to render anything which you 
 have not to give. God docs not attempt to reap 
 where he has not sown, and to gather where he has 
 
REQUITAL OF GIFTS DEMANDED. 299 
 
 not first strewn. You would feel it to be hard, in- 
 deed, if, after giving jou one talent, God had required 
 from you ten, and the improvement of ten. But, if 
 he has given you one, and its use, he requires of you 
 nothing beyond. And, certainly, he can demand no 
 less than his own. If it would be absurd and unrea- 
 sonable that he should demand more, it is equally 
 unjust that you should render any less. If what you 
 rendered to God were analogous to dealing out gifts 
 of charity to one who has done nothing for you, there 
 would be no precise and well-defined measure of duty. 
 You might impart freely, and find it a beneficial cul- 
 ture of your nature to exercise a large generosity, 
 but you would have an ever-sliding scale of duty, 
 modified by your own moral states. But, since what 
 you render to God as service is of the nature of ren- 
 dering back a trust, there can be nothing variable 
 in your obligations. They always bear an exact 
 proportion to what you have received. To withhold 
 any part is as plain a dereliction of duty, as palpa- 
 ble rebellion, as it is to withhold the whole. Hence, 
 our Saviour says : "Except a man forsake all that he 
 hath, he cannot be my disciple." You act on the 
 same principle. Suppose you have intrusted a busi- 
 ness agent with a million of dollars. To have such 
 an agency, with its lawful and stipulated rewards, is 
 a great favor, and you expect a faithful return of the 
 whole. If the business is so managed that the com- 
 paratively small sum of one thousand dollars is stealth- 
 ily laid aside for your agent's own use, he has proved 
 
300 SERMON XVI. 
 
 himself un^Y0^tlly of your confidence. And tliougli 
 that one thousand dollars is a trifling proportion to 
 the nine hundred and ninety-nine thousand which he 
 has rendered back, yet he is proved to be as clearly 
 a dishonest man as if he had kept the whole. He 
 may have injured you in a less degree, but he is just 
 as plainly an unfaithful steward, as a man is just as 
 clearly a thief and a robber who has purloined a 
 thousand dollars as he is who has taken a million. 
 It was on this ground that Ananias and Sapphira 
 were smitten dead upon the spot, when they acknow- 
 ledged the entireness of God's claim, and yet deli- 
 berately kept back part of the price. That selling 
 of estates, and bringing all, and laying it down at 
 the apostles' feet, was a meeting of the exigencies of 
 the church, and a clear symbol of what every con- 
 verted soul virtually does when he becomes a Christ- 
 ian. He forsakes all that he hath to be Christ's 
 disciple. To offer to do less is an insult. But 
 you will ask: "Is there not imperfection attending 
 the doings of the best Christians?" Doubtless there 
 is ; and if we had time, in this place, we could 
 show you in what it consists. It is enough to say 
 now, that it does not consist in making false entries 
 in your account with your Maker, and then at- 
 tempting like Ananias and Sapphira, by lying to the 
 Holy Ghost, to gain the credit of making an honest 
 requital to God, while a portion of his gifts are hid 
 away for yourself. The measure of your obligation 
 is always exact. 
 
REQUITAL OF GIFTS DEMANDED. 801 
 
 Those frames of yours, with all their members of 
 joints and limbs and muscles, are to be employed in 
 doing the work of God. Those intellectual powers 
 are to dwell in your body, as in a temple of the Lord; 
 yea, they are to consecrate that temple, and, clad in 
 pure priestly robes, to keep ever burning within it 
 the fires of love, and to fill it with the incense of 
 praise. That worldly estate which you control is 
 God's charity fund, put into your hands to carry along 
 with you, as you pass up and down in this world of 
 tears and sighs, and widowhood and orphanage, and 
 crime and irreligion. No mortal has any right to 
 dictate to you the details of its expenditure, but God 
 takes account of it, and will soon call to you in a 
 voice of irresistible authority and power: ^' Give an 
 account of thy stewardship, for thou mayst be no 
 longer steward." That child is committed to you as 
 a sacred trust; God has said to you, as Pharaoh's 
 daughter said to the mother of Moses, " Take this 
 child away and nurse it for me, and I will give thee 
 thy wages." Your duty is plain. 
 
 I. It is God's property intrusted to you. The 
 proper requital is an offering of it to the giver, and a 
 training it wholly for his service. This gospel, which 
 God has imparted to you as a cup of salvation, in- 
 tended not for you merely, but for your species, is to 
 be drunk freely, and then to be passed on till every 
 famishing soul has had it pressed to his lips with the 
 kind and urgent invitation, " Drink, beloved." In 
 short, you have only to consider what you have, to 
 26 
 
802 SERMON XVI. 
 
 understand what you owe to God. You owe it all. 
 " "What hast thou that thou didst not receive?" The 
 measure of your duty is exactly as the gifts of God 
 to you. 
 
 II. That w^hich creates an obligation in this re- 
 spect, operates also in various ways as an incitement 
 to discharge that obligation. Duty is not presented 
 as an abstraction. The gifts of God touch our senses 
 and affect our conscious enjoyments, and so awaken 
 in the mind a sense of obligation to make a corre- 
 sponding requital. How observable is this when, by 
 the providence of God, men are saved from some 
 great and imminent danger. Let a ship at sea be 
 driven hard upon a lea shore. Let the crew strive 
 in vain, for a dny and a night, to distance the 
 frightful breakers, and yet draw nearer every hour 
 till the sturdy mariners grow pale, and begin to 
 mingle their cries with more timid passengers for 
 mercy ; and now let the wind suddenly haul around 
 and the joyful vessel dance by the jutting rocks, and 
 bound off freely upon the deep again. In such a case 
 men's hearts are softened, and even the wicked are 
 ready to join in the thanksgiving of the righteous, 
 and to say with them : " What shall I render to the 
 Lord, for all his benefits ?" This strong case fairly in- 
 dicates the tendency of those gifts which precede our 
 duties to incite us to their performance. If men are 
 not conscious of such an influence, it is because their 
 awful inurement to sin has induced an amazing and 
 callous insensibility. Our lives are just as manifestly 
 
REQUITAL OF GIFTS DEMANDED. 303 
 
 preserved every night, and every day, and every hour 
 by a Divine hand, as were the lives of that ship's com- 
 pany. If the fact were not lost sight of in the soul's 
 habit of living without God, that preservation would 
 every day produce a similar incitement to render a 
 proper requital to the Lord. 
 
 We may become insensible to the call of the Divine 
 mercy by directing our attention to other objects, and 
 absorbing our minds with other interests. In a great 
 city we learn to become utterly insensible for the 
 greater part of the time to the rattling of vehicles, 
 and the cries of those who are ottering their wares 
 and their services in the streets. The reason is be- 
 cause we have purposely turned away our regards 
 •from these, as matters of little practical concernment 
 to us. Just so, men become insensible to the cry of 
 God's claims — the voices of his thick-coming gifts. 
 
 The sounds are uttered. They fall upon the ear 
 of the soul in gentle and persuasive accents. Pre- 
 serving kindness speaks to it when the body first 
 wakes from its nightly repose, and says: " Now begin 
 anew. Let thy feet run in the way of the Lord's 
 commandments. Employ those hands as day laborers 
 for God. Let those lips speak out for righteousness, 
 and those ears be open to the calls of the needy. Bid 
 that understanding prepare its roomy apartments to 
 entertain the Son of God and his train to-day." Pos- 
 sessions of property suggest the power of doing good. 
 Learning tells the mind of the requital which it owes 
 to God for so valuable a trust; and the means of grace 
 
304 BERMON XVI. 
 
 inspire the soul with an irrepressible desire to run like 
 the woman of Samaria at Jacob's well, and tell of the 
 power and grace of Christ. 
 
 A great incitement to those duties, also, which con- 
 sist in communicating blessings to others, is found in 
 our own previous enjoyment of them. When God 
 requires us to dispense blessings to our fellow-men he 
 permits us first to partake of them ourselves. If we 
 are required to give of our money to relieve men's 
 temporal wants, it is after we have proved its power 
 in the good things, the necessaries, and the comforts 
 which it has purchased for ourselves. Are we asked 
 to impart knowledge ? It is only after we have made 
 our&elves sensible by its enjoyment that it is better 
 than gold or silver. Do we give spiritual instruc- 
 tion? We first learn by tasting that it is sweeter 
 than honey and the honeycomb. So all that class 
 of gifts which we are required to impart to men are 
 first given us to enjoy, so that we may feel a deep 
 sense of their great value, and thence be incited to 
 do good and to communicate. 
 
 But the great incitement derived from this linking 
 of God's gifts and our duties so closely, is found in 
 the universality of the claims made upon our grati- 
 tude. No appeal can be made to our moral nature 
 that is so effective as the claim for gratitude. But, 
 since our duties are preceded by corresponding Wess- 
 ings, this claim may be urged, and is urged, in regard 
 to every one of our obligations to God. Nothing will 
 more readily overwhelm a man with a sense of un- 
 
REQUITAL OF GIFTS DEMANDED. 805 
 
 worthiness than the conviction that he has been un- 
 gratefuh One feels himself deeply degraded by in- 
 gratitude, and no crime shocks the human mind like 
 this. It is this that gives such a dark hue, in our 
 estimation, to filial impiety. When you see a son 
 treating with disrespect his father, or wantonly 
 wounding the womanly sensibilities of his mother, 
 you are shocked; you feel a mortifying shame for 
 your species, and turn away from the sight as from 
 something monstrous. Why is it ? It is because such 
 conduct is characterized by ingratitude. That father 
 has done so much for his son in providing for his child- 
 hood — so much by paternal counsel and care; and 
 that mother suffered for her child, and watched and 
 wept by his sick bed ; and now that all this should be 
 requited with bitter words and an unfilial spirit, strikes 
 us as one of the monstrous forms that iniquity puts 
 on only in its rankest growth. And yet the view 
 which we have taken shows all sin in the light of in- 
 gratitude toward God, the greatest and best Benefac- 
 tor. Hence, in the most pointed rebukes of Scrip- 
 ture, men are accused of ingratitude. God says to 
 the apostate Israelites: "The ox knoweth his owner, 
 and the ass his master's crib; but Israel doth not 
 know, my people do not consider." 
 
 Laying a foundation for gratitude is the most 
 powerful of all means for winning the affections. 
 How well judged was it in Jacob to send a present 
 before him to disarm his brother from an old and long-, 
 cherished resentment ! Christ's miracles of healing 
 
 26* 
 
806 SERMON XVI. 
 
 had an amazing power in eliciting a thankful spirit, 
 and causing the common people to hear him gladly. 
 God has based all his claims, and all the invitations 
 of his gospel, upon this principle. He assumes that 
 " love is the only loan for love." He overcomes evil 
 with good. When he comes to meet us with his 
 claims of reconciliation and peace, he sends his pre- 
 sents before, as Jacob did to his brother Esau. We 
 may be stubborn, and persist in the wrong, but he 
 continues to send them still. A stream of blessings 
 comes pouring in upon us. Their swelling tide bears 
 us up to his very mercy-seat. Their language to us 
 is: " Be thankful unto him, and bless his name." 
 If at any time he withdraws his gifts, and leaves us 
 to bereavement and mourning, it is to make us sensi- 
 ble of our ingratitude, and to lead us to such a new 
 appreciation of his goodness that it may have an in- 
 creased influence and lead us to repentance. 
 
 My impenitent friends, did it never occur to you 
 that the slight manner in which you have been af- 
 fected by the goodness of God evinces a great degree 
 of sinfulness and unworthiness on your part? What 
 have you rendered to your Maker for that curious 
 frame ? How have you requited his preserving care ? 
 W^hat returns have you made when he has raised it 
 from the gates of the grave, where it had been laid 
 by sickness ? How have you kept the vows which 
 you made in the day of trouble? What have you 
 returned to God for those mental powers ; for £reat- 
 
REQUITAL OF GIFTS DEMANDED. 807 
 
 ing them, for preserving them from idiocy and mad- 
 ness ? How have you requited him for your education ? 
 Have you taken all these precious trusts, and made 
 a perverted use of them by setting an example of 
 publicly neglecting the ordinances and blessings of 
 his grace? What use have you made of your pro- 
 perty ? Have you squandered it in your own grati- 
 fication, without anything like a daily asking of wis- 
 dom to use it in such a way as will please its munifi- 
 cent Donor, who intrusted it to your keeping? In 
 what light can you regard such conduct, if you seri- 
 ously reflect, except in the light of what the prophet 
 significantly terms " robbing God?" What have you 
 done with the knowledge, and especially with the 
 knowledge of the gospel, with which you have been 
 intrusted ? Have you taken the cup of salvation, 
 called upon the name of the Lord, paid your vows in 
 the presence of his people, and then passed the rich 
 blessing to others? Or, have you requited him evil 
 for good, and given the whole weight of your example 
 against any such use of his mercies ? And how have 
 you repaid the love and sacrifice of Christ? I am 
 afraid you have requited it with the ingratitude of 
 your neglect. Can it be ? Are you ungrateful for 
 such mercy and grace? Still he waits. He seeks 
 to subdue that unthankful soul, and to win it by kind- 
 ness. Will you not open your heart to the sweet 
 influences of his mercy ? 
 
 I fancy I see you contemplating his goodness, and 
 
308 SERMON XVI. 
 
 in view of the spirit of these instructions you wonder, 
 like some of old, at the gracious words that proceed 
 out of his mouth. Yes, my impenitent friend, Christ 
 has come to you once more with his hands full of 
 blessings, and his heart full of love; and he means 
 you shall have the opportunity of now giving your 
 heart to him, or of again ungratefully slighting his 
 proffered grace. 
 
 *' Behold the Saviour at the door ! 
 He gently knocks, has knocked before ; 
 Has waited long, is waiting still ; 
 You treat no other friend so ill. 
 
 " lovely attitude ! He stands, 
 
 With melting heart and outstretched hands ; 
 matchless kindness ! And he shows 
 This matchless kindness to his foes. 
 
 " Admit him ere his anger burn, 
 His feet departed, ne'er return ; 
 Admit him, or the hoar's at hand 
 You'll at his door rejected stand." 
 
 Yes, fellow-sinner, the time is coming when the 
 remembrance of all God's mercies, and of the calls of 
 his grace, shall rise up before you, and ask: " Why 
 did you requite your Maker evil for good? Why did 
 you rob God of his just claims ? Why did you un- 
 gratefully forget your Heavenly Benefactor?" Can 
 you make a satisfactory answer ? Can you think of 
 meeting such upbraidings without being overwhelmed 
 
REQUITAL OF GIFTS DEMANDED. 809 
 
 ■with sliame and remorse ? Let, then, the invitations 
 and incitements of the Divine goodness lead you, this 
 hour, to the decision, 
 
 " No longer to abuse his love, 
 And weary out his grace.'* 
 
SERMON XYII. 
 
 PRACTICAL ATHEISM. 
 ''Without god in the world," — IJphesians n. 12. 
 
 The meaning of this text will be readily perceived, 
 when viewed in its connection with the context. 
 The apostle, speaking to his Ephesian brethren, 
 adverts to their state previously to their conversion. 
 "At that time," says he, "ye were without Christ, 
 being aliens from the commonwealth of Israel, and 
 strangers from the covenants of promise, having no 
 hope, and without God in the world." The language 
 is descriptive of the spiritual condition of every person 
 who has not been truly converted to Christ. To such 
 I address myself. 
 
 My object is to unfold to you your true spiritual state. 
 May God the Holy Spirit at the same time impart to 
 me the faithfulness and gentleness of Christ, and 
 open your hearts to attend to the things that belong 
 to your everlasting peace. The text implies : — 
 
 I. That you are destitute of all i^ropcr affection 
 towards God. 
 
 It is not denied that you possess sentiments of re- 
 spect for the Divine character. Many of you know 
 
PRACTICAL ATHEISM. 311 
 
 too much of the majesty and glory of God to treat him 
 with contempt. Your souls have often trembled in 
 view of his awful justice. Your hearts have been 
 touched by aifecting instances of his mercy, and 
 your bosoms have been filled with gladness on account 
 of his abundant gifts. You may even have felt those 
 warm sentiments of natural gratitude which flow un- 
 bidden from the heart, on experiencing an unexpected 
 deliverance from some dreaded calamity. Yet are 
 you destitute of all proper affection towards God. 
 
 Supreme love to God is required of you. When 
 the Divine character and claims are unfolded in your 
 presence, you feel that nothing less can reasonably 
 be demanded. You ought to exercise and cherish a 
 love to God which surpasses all other attachments. 
 Your happiness ought to be mainly derived from a 
 conscious exercise of a warm and pure affection 
 towards your Heavenly Father, and corresponding 
 assurances of his love towards you. But such is not 
 your experience. You may flatter yourself that you 
 shall, by some means, obtain the Divine favor at last; 
 but you cannot so far deceive yourself as to think 
 that your heart is habitually warmed by a supreme 
 love to God. The holy Psalmist, when he contem- 
 plated the Divine character exclaimed, "Whom have 
 I in heaven but thee, and there is none upon the 
 earth that I desire beside thee. My heart and 
 my flesh cry out for God. When shall I come and 
 appear before God." You make no such exclama- 
 tion ; nor do you feel compelled to place a strong re- 
 
312 SERMON XVII. 
 
 straint upon your lips, lest the warm feelings of your 
 heart should burst from them in language similar to 
 this. You are without God in the world. 
 
 You have never returned to God, from a life of 
 wandering and of sin. You are acquainted with that 
 touching parable of the prodigal, by which our Sav- 
 iour so beautifully represents to us the process of a 
 sinner's return to God. That lost one thought of his 
 guilt and shame; thought of his perishing condition; 
 his rags, his hunger, and his dark prospects. He 
 thought of his father's house, and its abundance. He 
 thought of his father's kindness. He said, "I will arise, 
 and go to my father." He went; and what joy was 
 there in his heart, in the bosom of his father, and in 
 the entire household. You never thus lamented your 
 wanderings. You never thus returned and found a 
 joyful reconciliation with your Heavenly Father. Let 
 me put to you, then, my impenitent friend, the solemn 
 question. Now, conscience, do thine office, and give a 
 true answer: Have you ever returned from the ways 
 of sin, and said: " I will arise, and go to my father ?" 
 If God should ask you, this hour: "If I be a Father, 
 where is mine honor ?" could you answer him ? You 
 know you could not. You are "without God in the 
 world.'' 
 
 But this alienation of affection is reciprocal. God 
 is as thoroughly destitute of love to you, as you are 
 of love to him. Do not misunderstand me, here, on 
 account of the twofold sense of the term love. In 
 the sense of pity and benevolence, " God so loved" 
 you, "that he gave his well-beloved son" to die in 
 
PRACTICAL ATHEISM. 313 
 
 your stead. But in the sense of complacent affec- 
 tion, God is as far from loving you as you are from 
 loving him. In the 1st book of Sam. ii. 30, God says: 
 " Them that honor me, I will honor, and they that 
 despise me shall be lightly esteemed." In the 10th 
 Psalm, 3d verse, a particular class of sinners is referred 
 to as objects of the Divine abhorrence. "The wicked," 
 it is said, "boasteth of his heart's desire, and blesseth 
 the covetous, whom the Lord abhorreth." Yet this 
 class, the covetous, is not more certainly abhorred, 
 than every unconverted sinner. Hence, the Psalmist 
 says, in the 5th Psalm, 5th verse, " Thou hatest all 
 workers of iniquity." Thus the alienation of affection 
 is complete in both parties. You are alienated from 
 God, and God is alienated from you. how fearful 
 for a worm of the dust to stand in such a relation to 
 a being of infinite holiness and unbending justice ! 
 Reconciliation is demanded. You are "without God 
 in the world." 
 
 II. This text also implies that you are totally desti- 
 tute of communion with God in prayer. 
 
 You may be accustomed to offer in form devotion 
 to God. This habit may be of great advantage in 
 restraining you from vice ; it may lead you to attend 
 more seriously upon the means of grace. But you 
 do not approach God in filial confidence. You do 
 not feel in your devotions that you are unbosoming 
 yourself to a kind and sympathizing friend. You do 
 not confess with sincere and heartfelt grief in your 
 retirement your manifold offences. You do not wait 
 27 
 
814 SERMON XVII. 
 
 upon God for manifestations of his love. You do not 
 plead the blood of Christ, and through it seek earn- 
 estly for the salvation of your friends. In short, you 
 do not really depend upon obtaining your richest 
 blessings by asking them from God. Nor does God 
 meet you with tokens of his love in the place of 
 solemn prayer. Your soul is not there, subdued un- 
 der a sense of the sweetness of Divine mercy and the 
 riches of Divine grace. God does not there lift 
 upon you the light of his countenance. You find 
 no verification of your Saviour's promise: ''If any 
 man love me, my Father will love him, and we will 
 come and make our abode with him." You are "with- 
 out God in the world." 
 
 III. It is also implied in this description of your 
 spiritual coiidition that you do not eontemp)late the 
 character of God as an object of paramount interest. 
 
 The character of God is the most glorious object 
 of contemplation in the universe. The heavenly 
 hosts gaze upon it with unceasing astonishment and 
 delight. Enoch kept it so constantly before his mind, 
 that he is said to have walked with God. The Psalm- 
 ist thought upon it in the night watches, and arose 
 before the dawn to meditate upon God. He says, he 
 set the Lord always before his face. The prophet 
 Malachi characterizes those whom God will make up 
 among the jewels that shall bestud his crown, by 
 speaking of them as " those that feared the Lord, and 
 that thought upon his name." The apostle Paul 
 speaks of the Divine character as being the object of 
 
PRACTICAL ATHEISM. 315 
 
 the Christian's habitual contemplation, and as furnish- 
 ing the transforming influence which imparts to men 
 the same beautiful and holy character. In 2 Cor. 
 iii. 18, he says : "But we all with open face behold- 
 ing as in a glass the glory of the Lord, are changed 
 into the same image, from glory to glory, even as by 
 the Spirit of the Lord." But the unconverted are 
 characterized as those that "forget God." "God is 
 not in all their thoughts." You may, indeed, be 
 visited by thoughts of God obtruding themselves into 
 your mind from the perusal of the sacred Scriptures, 
 from the preaching of the gospel, and from the in- 
 fluence of the Holy Spirit; but you do not apply 
 your mind to the delightful occupation of contem- 
 plating the Divine character. Scenery can please 
 you. Sun- gilded mountains, and verdant vales, and 
 resplendent rivers can charm you ; but their glorious 
 Creator is not thought upon with delight. Wealth, 
 and splendor, and fashion can captivate your heart ; 
 but the thoughts of God are unwelcome intruders, 
 and soon expelled from your mind. Learning and 
 genius can provoke your admiration ; but the infinite 
 stores of Divine knowledge and the depths of Divine 
 wisdom can not withdraw you one hour in a day to 
 your retirement to indulge in thoughts of God. A 
 creature's love secures your attention. Your earthly 
 benefactors and friends, your children and your pa- 
 rents, your husbands and your wives are thought 
 upon when absent in the night watches ; and your eyes 
 are held awake by the action of your social sympathies. 
 
316 SERMON XVII. 
 
 But God, the Giver of all your mercies, is forgotten. 
 Your Creator is neglected. If by his Holy Spirit 
 he presents himself to you, as counselling you like a 
 father, or as offering up his beloved Son as a victim 
 for your sins, the thoughts are quickly repelled. 
 You are "without God in the world." You are 
 aware of the fact ; yet you cast off fear, and restrain 
 prayer. God sees you, poor guilty wanderer. To 
 those who do not know him, he will say at his awful 
 bar: " I know you not." ''Consider this, all ye that 
 forget God, lest he tear you in pieces, and there be 
 none to deliver." 
 
 IV. You have renounced Crod as your ruler and 
 'portion. 
 
 You may not have literally used the language of 
 Pharaoh, and said: "Who is the Lord, that I should 
 obey his voice?" but you have as really renounced 
 the Divine authority. You do not so much as pre- 
 tend to make it your chief object to obey and please 
 God. If any worldly enterprise is recommended to 
 you, you do not first ask counsel of God, and decide 
 whether the proposed course will be pleasing to him. 
 On the contrary, you consult your w^orldly interests. 
 You inquire if it will improve your estate ; if it will 
 enhance your reputation; if it will minister to your 
 ease or your worldly enjoyments. 
 
 You have also deliberately and habitually re- 
 nounced God as your portion. Every man who has 
 any hope of enjoyment chooses some portion for him- 
 self; something on which he relies for happiness. 
 
PRACTICAL ATHEISM. 317 
 
 David says, in the 16th Psalm : "The Lord is the 
 portion of mine inheritance, and my cup ;" and in the 
 73d Ps. 26th verse, the inspired author says : " God is 
 the strength of my heart, and my portion forever." 
 Says the prophet Jeremiah, in his Lamentations : 
 "The Lord is my portion, saith my soul; therefore 
 will I hope in him." You possess no such portion. 
 You have relinquished it of choice. You are one of 
 those of whom the Psalmist speaks under the appel- 
 lation of " men of the world, which have their por- 
 tion in this life." You have not been persuaded to 
 this, and occasionally and for a short time renounced 
 God as your ruler and your portion. On the con- 
 trary, you have deliberately, and for years together, 
 renounced the authority of God, and renounced God 
 as the source of your enjoyments. You are " with- 
 out God in the world." This also is reciprocal. 
 God has renounced and disowned you. He has no 
 gracious covenant with you as with his people. He 
 calls you "men of this world;" "the wicked and 
 children of the wicked one." He acknowledges you 
 not as adopted into his family. He speaks not of 
 you as "dear children." He has never said of you, 
 as the father of his returned prodigal: "Bring forth 
 the best robe, and put it on him." On the contrary, 
 he has described you as "condemned already," with 
 " the wrath of God abiding on you." You are " with- 
 out God in the world." There is a mutual alienation 
 of affection between you and your Creator. There is 
 no intercourse and communion between you. You do 
 
 27* 
 
o 
 
 18 SERMON XVII. 
 
 not make the character of God an object of para- 
 mount interest in your contemphitions. You have 
 renounced God, and he has renounced you; there is 
 a wall of separation, heaven high, between you and 
 Your God. We conclude with a few 
 
 REFLECTIONS. 
 
 1. It is a solemn reflection naturaUy arising from 
 this subject, that you,, my friends, who are yet uncon- 
 verted, possess essentially the same character with 
 those who are already in the ivorld of ivoe. 
 
 I say essentially the same character, because there 
 are strong circumstantial differences. You are re- 
 strained by a thousand good influences which will be 
 removed at death. But we have no reason to think 
 that death will change the character essentially of 
 either the righteous or the wicked. It will only in- 
 troduce each into a state in which they will be under 
 the entire and constant dominion of their chosen 
 principles and chosen objects of regard. The righte- 
 ous love God supremely, and dwell upon his charac- 
 ter as the most delightful of all objects, and choose 
 God as their ruler and their portion. These objects 
 whose influence was partially counteracted in this 
 world will then act on the character, and impart to 
 it a perfect and enduring consistency. But you, my 
 friends, who are yet unconverted, are restrained; you 
 are perfectly conscious of being held back from the 
 full and vigorous action of your sinful principles. 
 Y^ou are just as perfectly without God, just as en- 
 
PRACTICAL ATHEISM. 319 
 
 tirely alienated in your affections, and destitute of 
 spiritual communion with God now as is Judas, or 
 Herod, or any of the lost. Death will not change 
 your character ; it will only give your principles new 
 expansion, and enhanced vigor. You will then be 
 without God. Should you be so unhappy as to make 
 your bed in hell, you will be there alienated from 
 your Maker in your affections, and he will be alien- 
 ated from you. You will have no communion w^ith 
 him by prayer. You will renounce him ; he will re- 
 nounce you ; and this mutual alienation and renounce- 
 ment will be eternal. There will be an impassable 
 gulf between you. 
 
 2. Your condition demands sympathy not less than 
 censure. 
 
 We may not, indeed, conceal your guilt. A 
 heavy curse rests upon that minister who refrains 
 from declaring the whole truth to men concerning 
 their guilty and lost estate. But I rejoice that God 
 has not forbidden us to sympathize with you in re- 
 gard to the sufferings of your condition. He himself 
 has manifested the most tender pity, and I cannot 
 help thinking that one reason why he committed the 
 preaching of his gospel to sinful men is, because they 
 have had experience of the bitterness of sin, and 
 know how to compassionate those that are out of the 
 way. It is obvious that your state exposes you con- 
 stantly to great unhappiness. You are destitute of 
 everything like adequate consolation in affliction. 
 Your worldly prospects may be dark. You may feel 
 
820 SERMON XVII. 
 
 all the evils of pinching want. Your health may be 
 seriously impaired ; with a diseased body your spirits 
 may droop ; yet " you arc without God in the world." 
 Friends may forsake you ; enemies may be permitted 
 to multiply. Now, if you had an almighty Friend to 
 sympathize with you, it would be an unspeakable 
 blessing; but, "you are without God in the world." 
 You may be bereaved. The messenger of death may 
 enter your family circle, and remove a darling child, 
 a fond and venerated parent, or a beloved husband or 
 wife ; then you have no coveyiant God to whom you 
 may go. Y'^es, you may lie very soon on the bed of 
 death yourself. Enter that gloomy place ; the cham- 
 ber where the unconverted sinner is closing his mor- 
 tal career. Crowd among those weeping attendants. 
 Hark! he says: "Not prepared;" he cries for mercy. 
 He desists from prayer. His recollections of the 
 past haunt him. He is quoting from memory a pass- 
 age which has often troubled him : " He that, being 
 often reproved, hardeneth his neck, shall suddenly be 
 destroyed, and that without remedy." His voice fal- 
 ters. His features are distorted for a moment, and 
 death has completed his conquest. My soul draw 
 back — seek not to lift the veil which conceals his 
 eternal state from mortals. He was "without God in 
 the world." He died in his sins. 
 
 But there is a gleam of brightness in this text. 
 Your condition is not as sad as it might be. You are 
 " without God," it is true, but you are " without God 
 in the world.'' You are not " without God," in hell. 
 
PRACTICAL ATHEISM. 321 
 
 You are not necessarily shut up to a state of eternal 
 alienation from your Maker. You are surrounded 
 with examples of the daily recovery of lost sinners. 
 You have the word of reconciliation in your hands. 
 The sweet sounds of gospel grace fall upon your ear. 
 God is lavishing upon you his gifts. The Holy 
 Spirit has not ceased to remonstrate and to plead with 
 you. And it is a fearfully interesting crisis. It is 
 sad to see one in the last stage of disease. Our minds 
 are oppressed with gloom when we perceive such an 
 one constantly advancing towards death. But what 
 a relief is it in such a case to witness the arrival of 
 a skilful physician with the certain means of cure. 
 All hearts are cheered. All are elated with hope. 
 They only inquire if the remedy be sure. The trem- 
 bling wife and weeping children listen in breathless 
 suspense to know if it be absolutely certain that the 
 remedy is a sure one. Is the medicine good ? Is it 
 properly prepared ? Has the physician arrived in 
 time ? All these inquiries are answered in the affirm- 
 ative. Then he may surely recover. But here is 
 another difficulty. The dying man is reluctant to 
 apply the remedy. The physician advises ; friends 
 beseech ; still, all is uncertain. Ah ! pitiable, indeed, 
 is it to see one dying, with abundant means of re- 
 covery before him. Pitiable, to see a drowning man 
 turn and struggle, and push himself away from the 
 life-boat, and disengage the hand from him that seeks 
 to lift him from a watery grave. Pitiable, to see one 
 perishing with hunger, and yet refusing to take bread 
 
322 SERMON xvir. 
 
 "when there is enoufrh and to spare, brought to him 
 by the hand of kindness. But far more pitiable than 
 any of these, is the state of that lost sinner, who is 
 "without God" in this world of probation and mercy 
 and grace. To be without God in hell should not be 
 strange, for there is no gospel, no calls of mercy, no 
 Holy Spirit, no Saviour held up as crucified and slain 
 for you, no voice from the messengers of grace saying, 
 *' Behold the Lamb of God which taketh away the 
 sins" of hell! But what mean you, my dying uncon- 
 verted friend, to be "without God in the world ?" 
 You are "without God" when his gifts are poured 
 into your lap in rich profusion : when health and abun- 
 dance, and friends, and domestic comfort surround 
 you, and solicit your gratitude to the Father of mercies. 
 When he has just restored one of your family from 
 dangerous illness, or has brought up your own feet 
 from the grave's brink ; from the verge of eternal death 
 you are still "without God." You are "without God" 
 in your afflictions. He has lifted his rod of chastise- 
 ment. He has clothed your family in mourning. He 
 has removed your lovely infant, or taken your wife, 
 your husband, and made your house desolate as the 
 temple of the Lord when pillaged of its sacred utensils. 
 Yet you regard not his call ; you are " without God in 
 the world." You are "without God'' in your retire- 
 ment. Without him when mingling with Christian 
 friends. You are " without God" in his holy 
 sanctuary — without him where others are enjoying 
 sweet communion with him. Without him, when 
 
PRACTICAL ATHEISM. 823 
 
 others are turning to him. Without him in revivals 
 of religion, when many are turning to their Saviour, and 
 "when he is saying to them, hy the gracious influence 
 of his Spirit: "Son, daughter, be of good cheer, thy 
 sins be forgiven thee." You are " without God" now, 
 while I offer you salvation freely through the blood 
 of Christ. Yes, here you are " without God in the 
 world." Dying with the remedy before you. Sink- 
 ing beside the very ark of safety. Refusing an of- 
 fered pardon while on the way to execution. 
 
 Awake, sinful soul. Awake from thy guilty slum- 
 bers. Call upon thy God. Be reconciled now in the 
 day of his gracious visitation, lest thou be found to be 
 " without God" at the bar of Christ, and lest thy 
 eternal history be given in a reiterated wail from thy 
 lips: "Without God!" "without God!" "without 
 God!" "without God," forever! 
 
SERMON XVIII. 
 
 FREEDOM FROM SOUL-MURDER. 
 
 I AM PURE FROM THE BLOOD OP ALL MEN. Acts XX. 26. 
 
 The office of the sacred ministry is one of solemn 
 import. The faithful discharge of its duties secures 
 for those who honor and appropriately receive its in- 
 fluence, the highest conceivable benefits. Through 
 its instrumentality, domestic virtues and domestic 
 peace are secured to families. By its means, multi- 
 tudes are saved from vice, and the character of the 
 young is formed to probity and honor. 
 
 But its great power is evinced in securing, through 
 the Divine blessing, the salvation of immortal souls. 
 If such, however, be the consequences of a faithful 
 discharge of the functions of the sacred office, it will 
 also follow that the delinquencies of the minister of 
 Christ may render him responsible for failing to confer 
 these blessings. If one family fails of domestic hap- 
 piness for the want of faithfulness on the part of its 
 pastor, that pastor must be held responsible for the 
 misery that ensues. If one young man becomes the 
 victim of vice, for the want of ministerial fidelity, his 
 
FREEDOM FROM SOUL-MURDER. 325 
 
 pastor must answer for it to God. If a single soul 
 sinks down into death eternal through the delinquency 
 of a minister of Christ, that minister must be answer- 
 able for the blood of him that perishes. 
 
 The truth of these statements being fully admitted, 
 the apostle Paul declares, by the language of our 
 text, that he is not responsible for the death of the 
 souls of any of those whom he addresses. The meta- 
 phorical language employed by him is exceedingly 
 striking and impressive : " I am pure from the blood 
 of all men." 
 
 It has been usual, in all ages, and perhaps among 
 all nations, to represent those who are guilty of mur- 
 der as being defiled by the blood of their victims. A 
 popular impression has also prevailed, that the blood 
 of one that has been murdered cannot be washed from 
 the person or garments of his destroyer. In con- 
 formity with this use of language, and these concep- 
 tions, one strongly declares that he is not guilty in 
 relation to the death of another, when he avers that he 
 is not defiled by his blood. Such a declaration Pilate 
 made, when he washed his hands in the presence of 
 the crucifiers of our Lord, and exclaimed : " I am in- 
 nocent of the blood of this just person, see ye to it." 
 Such a declaration Paul also makes in the 18th 
 chapter of the Acts of the Apostles, where it is said : 
 "Paul was pressed in the spirit, and testified to the Jews, 
 that Jesus was Christ. And when they opposed them- 
 selves, and blasphemed, he shook his raiment, and said 
 unto them, Your blood be upon your own heads : I am 
 28 
 
32G SERMON xviir. 
 
 clean." In tins last instance, the death of the soul 
 rather than the death of the body is referred to. The 
 apostle did not mean to intimate that, if his Jewish 
 brethren had received his testimony with respect to 
 Jesus being the true Messiah, then they should not, 
 on that account, be any more exposed to natural 
 death. He meant rather to teach that, through faith 
 in the Messiah, they should be saved from the death 
 of their immortal souls. But they opposed themselves, 
 and blasphemed, when he employed the best possible 
 means to convince and save them. Hence, they would 
 perish eternally, and it would be entirely by their own 
 fault. Then, adapting forcible symbolic action to the 
 words employed, he shook his raiment, and exclaimed: 
 " Your blood be upon your own heads: I am clean." 
 So, in our text, the apostle means to say, that he can- 
 not be charged with the eternal ruin of any of his 
 hearers. I do not understand him as denying that he 
 may have been the instrument of destroying souls 
 previously to his own conversion. Nor docs ho mean 
 by all men, in this passage, anything more extensive 
 than all of those whom he had been able to reach by 
 his ministry at Ephesus. But lie does mean to say 
 that those who then heard him could bear Avitness that 
 his influence, as a minister of Chri>st, had been such 
 that, if they were lost, it could not be said to have 
 occurred through any defect of his ministry ; but that 
 the undivided blame rested on themselves. 
 
 The example of the apostle Paul is worthy of being 
 deeply pondered and copied. This example, however, 
 
FREEDOM FROM SOUL-MURDER. 327 
 
 was only the legitimate result of a simple faith in 
 Christ. I feel justified, therefore, in deriving from 
 it the following 
 
 PROPOSITION. 
 
 THE FAITHFUL MINISTER OF CHRIST IS CAREFUL NOT 
 TO INVOLVE HIMSELF IN THE GUILT OF SOUL- 
 MURDER. 
 
 I shall endeavor to illustrate this proposition, and 
 evince its truth, by adverting to the means which the 
 faithful minister of Christ employs to avoid the guilt 
 of soul-murder. These means may be all included in 
 three things: — 
 
 His cherished sentimeyits ; . 
 
 His preaching ; a7id 
 
 His conduct. 
 
 I. His cherished sentiinents. — If we wish to achieve 
 an end that demands strenuous effort, the first thing 
 to be done is to form an earnest purpose. This pur- 
 pose is formed, and acquires its needful vigor, by 
 cherishing those sentiments that give birth to it. Thus 
 a skilful general, who would fire his troops with de- 
 termined valor, does not merely exhort them to the 
 performance of their duty: he leads them to consider 
 how brilliant their conquest will be in the eyes of the 
 world. He awakens their desire of military glory. 
 He turns their attention to the mountains, and 
 streams, and loved institutions of their native land, 
 and kindles the glow of patriotic feeling. He adverts 
 to their domestic hearths and altars, to their infirm 
 
328 SERMON XVIII. 
 
 parents, their beloved wives and children, and calls 
 up the lively exercise of domestic affection ; and thus 
 employs these warm sentiments, the love of glory, of 
 country, and of kindred, to create that cool earnestness 
 which is essential to a successful battle. 
 
 We are guided by the same law of our nature in 
 acting upon our own minds when we would secure 
 vigorous and successful endeavor. The military leader 
 has called into action the same principle in preparing 
 himself for successful effort. He has first cherished 
 the same sentiments in his own bosom, that he might 
 give firmness to his purpose, and vigor and persever- 
 ance to his action. In like manner, when we would 
 achieve any difiicult enterprise, we always call into 
 action and cherish those intense sentiments which im- 
 part the needful impulse to our endeavors. In con- 
 formity with this principle, the faithful minister of 
 Christ calls to mind the fact that the souls of his flock 
 are in imminent danger of eternal death. He dwells 
 upon the truth that they clearly deserve such a doom. 
 Their sin is against an infinitely great and glorious 
 God. It is a voluntary departure from all holiness. 
 It is a self-exile, made without any limit, and rendered 
 naturally enduring by the fixed law of habit. In con- 
 nection with this, he remembers that they are actually 
 condemned by the Divine law. He thus cherishes a 
 sentiment of deep compassion. Such guilt, such a 
 just condemnation, such a prospective doom, are held 
 by himself before his own mind, till the desire to do 
 something effective for their rescue becomes as a fire 
 
FREEDOM FROM SOUL-MURDER. 329 
 
 shut up in his bones. He believes, further, that one 
 man may be guilty of the eternal ruin of another ; 
 that there is such a thing as the guilt of soul-murder. 
 He has observed that it is a general law of the Divine 
 government that moral beings socially related act con- 
 tinually on one another's interests. One man may 
 injure another in any of his interests. He may de- 
 fraud him of property, he may mar his reputation, 
 he may deprive him of civil and religious liberty, ho 
 may take away from him the key of knowledge, he 
 may impair his health, maim his person, kill his body, 
 corrupt his principles, and destroy his soul. Nor is 
 there is any more doubt respecting the last-named of 
 these interests than there is in relation to any of the 
 rest. It is as obvious that men act upon one another's 
 character, as that they touch one another's temporal 
 interests in the smallest matter. If one induce his 
 friend to turn away from a single opportunity to hear 
 the gospel, it may prove the means of preventing that 
 friend from ever finding salvation. 
 
 The influence of a calm, protracted, full meditation 
 on this fact, is enough to overwhelm any one, that lives, 
 and moves, and has his being among men, with a sense 
 of his own responsibility. The faithful minister en- 
 deavors by these meditations to cherish, in his own 
 mind, sentiments of the profoundest responsibility to 
 God and man, and to do what he can for the salva- 
 tion of the lost. To bring the subject home to his 
 own heart, he dwells much upon the peculiar respon- 
 sibilities, in this respect, which belong to the sacred 
 
 28* 
 
330 SERMON XVIII. 
 
 office. While others may be as truly guilty of soul- 
 murder, both by their action and their neglect, as the 
 professed minister of Christ, yet no other class of men 
 are charged with such numerous obligations — no 
 others can involve themselves in so much of this kind 
 of guilt by mere neglect. It may be that there are 
 hundreds, or perhaps a thousand souls subject to the 
 influence of his spiritual teaching. He conceives of 
 two widely diiferent results as possible when he shall 
 meet them at the judgment-seat of Christ. He may 
 meet them with his own robes spotless. If some of 
 his former flock shall then be seen bidding a final fare- 
 well to their pastor and their pious friends, he can 
 say: "Your blood be upon your own heads: I am 
 clean." On the contrary, he can conceive that he 
 may meet many of his people, yet in their sins ; that 
 they may look up to him with accusing countenances, 
 and that he may not be able, like Paul at Ephesus, to 
 shake his robes and say: "I am pure from the blood 
 of all men." The sentiments awakened by these re- 
 flections prepare the mind of the faithful minister for 
 acting with determination, with zeal, with energy. 
 It was by this means that Paul was aroused to such 
 intense desire and earnest endeavor on behalf of his 
 Jewish brethren. "I say the truth in Christ," ex- 
 claims he: "I lie not; my own conscience bearing 
 me witness in the Holy Ghost, that I have great heavi- 
 ness and continual sorrow in my heart. For I could 
 wish myself accursed from Christ, for my brethren, my 
 kinsmen according to the flesh." That is to say, as 
 
FREEDOM FROM SOUL-MURDER. 331 
 
 I understand him, I could be willing to be made a 
 curse after the manner of Christ, to be crucified as he 
 was, if by such means my blinded countrymen could 
 be led to see the truth and to find salvation. Thus 
 does every faithful minister of the Lord Jesus endea- 
 vor to avoid involving himself in the guilt of soul- 
 murder, by cherishing those sentiments which will 
 impel him to earnest action. Another means which 
 a faithful minister employs to avoid the guilt of 
 soul-murder is 
 
 II. His preaching. — Under the influence of such 
 sentiments, he endeavors to avoid this peculiar guilt 
 by the manner in which he proclaims the gospel. He 
 is careful not to preach for doctrines the command- 
 ments of men. Aware of the fact that the gospel is 
 not adapted to gratify the corrupt desires of human 
 nature, he does not inquire what will please his hearers, 
 but only what will be most likely to confer upon them 
 lasting benefits. He knows that the same thing is 
 true of him which was true of the apostle Paul ; if he 
 yet pleases men, he cannot be the servant of Christ. 
 Yet, though the offence of the cross has not ceased, 
 he will be careful not to awaken, unnecessarily, pre- 
 judices against the gospel. 
 
 He dares not to magnify the external rites of the 
 church, lest men shall be led to trust in a form of 
 godliness while they deny its power. He cannot trust 
 to human speculations, whether they be those of others 
 or his own. The Bible he regards as his only safe 
 guide, and, praying for the illuminations of the Divine 
 
332 SERMON XVIII. 
 
 Spirit, that he may not be misled in its interpretation, 
 he resolves to preach nothing but the counsel of God 
 as there revealed. 
 
 He is also careful to preach the whole gospel. A 
 vast variety of instruction is contained in the sacred 
 volume. It would be easy for one to preach a whole 
 lifetime, and exhibit in every discourse truth, and 
 pure truth, draAvn from the sacred sources, and yet 
 leave the most prominent truths of revealed religion 
 perfectly untouched. One might preach for fifty 
 years on the precepts of our Saviour alone, and still 
 his themes should be unexhausted; yet he should say 
 not one word of the extent of the claims of the Divine 
 law, or of the ultimate consequences of disobedience, 
 or of the methods of God's grace in the pardon and 
 sanctification, and eternal salvation of men. Thou- 
 sands of true and highly important discourses might 
 be framed on the social duties of men. An indefinite 
 number of pleasing and useful themes might be found 
 in sacred history; and while the preacher should treat 
 these themes with great skill, and educe from them a 
 large amount of valuable instruction, he might not 
 be able to say, after communicating it: "I am pure 
 from the blood of all men, for I have not shunned to 
 declare the whole counsel of God." 
 
 Nor is it enough, in his esteem, that he has not 
 neglected any important truth. He aims to exhibit 
 the truths of religion in their due proportions. If 
 moral duties be exhibited Avith chief prominence, and 
 the principles on which the justification, sanctifica- 
 
FREEDOM FROM SOUL-MURDER. 333 
 
 tion, and salvation of the soul are secured be only 
 cursorily brought forward, and slightly dwelt on, 
 how manifestly is the work of preaching performed 
 in an unfaithful manner ! But the faithful minister, 
 under the influence of those cherished sentiments, to 
 which we have before adverted, cannot avoid giving 
 the first place, as the Bible does, to the claims of the 
 Divine law ; the guilt and condemnation of his hear- 
 ers ; the pardon proffered through the blood of 
 Christ; the sanctifying work of the Holy Spirit, and 
 the eternal judgment. He knows that if these themes 
 are brought to the minds and hearts of his hearers 
 as great and solemn realities, they will produce effect. 
 To give them effect, he is aware that there is one 
 grand central object around which they must all be 
 made to cluster. That object is a crucified Saviour. 
 He knows that if his hearers can be induced to be- 
 hold, with interest, the Lamb of God that taketh 
 away the sin of the world, then they will appreciate 
 all the other great doctrines associated with his cross. 
 If it be once heartily admitted that we have for- 
 giveness through his blood, then it must be conceded 
 that we are condemned by a perfect law, that there is 
 a necessity for trusting in Christ, and for an imme- 
 diate repentance. Then reconciliation with God, will 
 be seen to be the thing first to be sought by every 
 perishing soul. 
 
 These, then, must always be the great and promi- 
 nent themes of him who means to be pure from the 
 blood of all men. He will preach Christ to his hear- 
 
334 SERMON XVIII. 
 
 ers. lie will aim to show them that they need such 
 a Saviour, because they are in a state of condemna- 
 tion by the Divine law. lie will endeavor to con- 
 vince them that forgiveness and justification are 
 entirely gratuitous. No good works, no outward 
 morality can avail anything, either for their justifica- 
 tion directly, or to prepare them to receive it. Good 
 works can avail nothing for their justification directly, 
 because their goodness is not the ground of their jus- 
 tification. They are to be pardoned. Men are never 
 pardoned because they have done right : they need 
 pardon only because they have done wrong. Christ's 
 sacrifice is the only ground of forgiveness ; we have 
 forgiveness through his blood. Good works cannot 
 prepare them for this. Right motives, an humble and 
 subdued temper are indispensable to the acceptable- 
 ness of any act before a holy God, and no man can 
 possess such a temper without being willing to accept 
 of pardon as a gratuitous bestowment through the 
 expiation of the great sacrificial offering, the Lamb 
 of God, that taketh awav the sin of the world. 
 
 Hence, the faithful minister glories in the cross 
 alone, and preaches Christ, the power of God, and 
 the wisdom of God, to every one that believeth. But 
 besides preaching the truth in distinction from error, 
 the whole truth in opposition to partial views, and 
 exhibiting those things that are of chief consequence 
 with the greatest prominence, he aims, by his manner 
 of preaching, to secure the most favorable result. 
 He aims especially, in all his preaching, to impart 
 
FREEDOM FROM SOUL-MURDER. 335 
 
 clear instruction. He has no hope that men will be 
 led to enter upon the way of salvation unless they 
 understand it, and he has no expectation of exerting 
 a powerful influence, but through a clear intelligence 
 in respect to the things of God. In reproof, he aims 
 to be kind and gentle, as well as plain, and endeavors 
 to possess the character described by the Prophet, 
 when he says: ^'He that winneth souls is wise." In 
 his exhortations, he is fervent and importunate. If 
 he does not realize immediate success, he is patient 
 and persevering, testifying, in a great variety of 
 ways, the gospel of the grace of God, freeing his own 
 conscience, and declaring himself pure from the blood 
 of all men. 
 
 III. Seeking to be thus free from. the guilt of soul- 
 murder, by his cherished sentiments and his preach- 
 ing, he carries out the same design in his conduct. 
 He seizes upon the opportunities for exerting a per- 
 sonal influence over the individuals of his flock, and 
 endeavors by conversations and prayers, wherever he 
 can discover a disposition to receive such services, to 
 win men to the love of the gospel. He incites others 
 to similar endeavors, leading each disciple of Christ, 
 as far as possible, to abound in judicious efforts to 
 lead their friends and fellow-men to secure their ever- 
 lasting interests. In short, he manifests, by various 
 and natural methods, that he is seeking the salvation 
 of every individual of his flock. He leaves a convic- 
 tion in the conscience of the reflecting sinner, that 
 he has been dealt with both kindly and faithfully. 
 
336 SERMON XVIII. 
 
 Men of different native powers and habits will 
 doubtless varj;; in their modes of action. Some will 
 be more social in their intercourse with their hearers, 
 and will achieve great results by their personal con- 
 versations ; others will rely more upon their public 
 ministrations. But every faithful minister of Christ 
 will so conduct himself that when he shall say, with 
 Paul, " I am pure from the blood of all men," the 
 hearts of. the people shall respond — thou art pure 
 from our blood; thou hast delivered thy soul. 
 
 These views seem to me to furnish the means of 
 correcting a very common practical error ; I mean 
 the error of supposing that Christianity naturally 
 leads to a course of conduct which almost all judicious 
 men judge to be extravagant. The error alluded to 
 finds its advocates in two widely different classes of 
 persons, namely, very ardent Christians and fault- 
 finding skeptics. 
 
 I will reply to each separately. There are some 
 very ardent Christians, who say, in the language of 
 humiliation and confession : "None of us act as if we 
 believed that sinners were continually exposed to 
 eternal death, and that their rescue depended upon 
 our fidelity. If we fully believed this," say they, 
 *'we could not rest night or day; we should feel bound 
 to warn men continually of their danger. We should 
 arrest every passer by in the street, ask him if he be 
 a Christian, and if not, tell him plainly that he is 
 walking in the way to death, and invite him to come 
 to Christ." It appears humble to confess that it is 
 
FREEDOM FROM SOUL-MURDER. 337 
 
 nothing but our guilty unbelief that prevents our 
 taking such a course. Christians are afraid to reply 
 to the assertions of their ardent brother, lest they 
 should seem to be justifying themselves and repress- 
 ing the self-denial that reproved their inactivity. 
 Now I beg to say that this whole strain of reasoning, 
 notwithstanding it appears so pious, is founded in 
 mistake. The conclusion does not follow at all from 
 the premises. I show it in this way. If we fully 
 believe that men are exposed to eternal death, and 
 that their rescue depends upon their being persuaded 
 to accept the terms of salvation, we shall use the best 
 means in our power to lead them to embrace the gos- 
 pel. In the reasoning just adverted to, it is assumed 
 that the most active means is always the most power- 
 ful. This is by no means the fact. Suppose a friend 
 of yours is dangerously ill. You know that but one 
 remedy can heal him. This remedy is a certain cure, 
 but in order to its efficacy you know that the patient 
 must not only take it willingly, but that he must even 
 ask it as a privilege. This sick friend is in a peculiar 
 state of mind. In the first place, he does not really 
 believe that he is dangerously ill. He wishes to hear 
 nothing about death or danger, and the man that 
 abruptly undertakes to convince him that he must die 
 is almost sure to lose all influence over him. Then, 
 he dislikes your remedy, and may probably feel a 
 deeper dislike if his atteijtion be not drawn to it in a 
 very gentle manner. Then, he has expressed himself 
 against that remedy, and a large circle of his friends 
 29 
 
838 SERMON XVIII. 
 
 know it. His pride of opinion is arrayed against it. 
 In addition to all this, he has a prejudice against you. 
 He knows what you think of this remedy, and he 
 judges you, on that account, to be an extravagant 
 man. Have you not a very delicate as well as great 
 work to perform, to overcome all these difficulties and 
 induce your sick friend to beg for that remedy of his 
 own accord ? You will not run to him like one out of 
 breath, and wake him suddenly, while in the irritations 
 of a fever, and tell him he will certainly die, and that 
 he must take your remedy, and then, if he replies 
 angrily, tell him again, I thought as much ; you hate 
 the remedy, and that is a fatal symptom. It is true, 
 that the alarm and excitement in such a case might, 
 possibly, operate favorably in a given instance. In 
 nine cases out of ten, however, your efforts would 
 prove a failure not only, but they would also operate 
 as a hindrance to the future efforts of others. Now, 
 like the state of mind of this supposed sick friend is 
 the state of very many unconverted men. So the 
 Bible represents them. Such the most successful 
 ministers have found them to be in an intercourse 
 with hundreds, some of whom they have been instru- 
 mental in winning over to a hearty acceptance of the 
 gospel. Do not say, this is discouraging effort. It 
 is only demanding of you that you employ that effort 
 which is most effective. " Wisdom is better than 
 strength." 
 
 The fault-finding skeptic makes, substantially, the 
 same complaint against Christians. "Why," says he, 
 
FREEDOM FROM SOUL-MURDER. 339 
 
 '' if I believed as you profess to do, I would go and 
 wake mj friends at midnight, and warn tliem to prepare 
 to meet God. The thought that one might die unwarned 
 and unprepared would distract me." My reply is, then 
 you would act a very irrational part, and the whole 
 amount of what you say is simply this : " If I w^ere 
 to become a Christian I would becom^e a fanatic, at 
 once, and see how quickly I could destroy my influ- 
 ence with all calm, reasonable, reflecting men, and 
 how quickly I could impair all of that well-poised 
 balance of my own mind, by which mental power is 
 both preserved and augmented." To such a skeptic 
 I reply, that, for myself, I would do no such thing. 
 On the contrary, when I received the gospel, I would 
 endeavor to imbibe a good portion of its gentleness 
 and cool wisdom, as well as much of its ardor and 
 earnestness. I would endeavor so to distribute my 
 labors that in proportion as men reflected deeply they 
 should approve them. I would act like a judicious 
 physician who should be placed amid tens of thousands 
 dying with epidemic disease. I would consider how 
 I could reach the greatest number, and preserve my 
 own energies and influence for the good of others. 
 And I am sure I should be justified by that revela- 
 tion which has said : '' He that winneth souls is wise." 
 2. In this connection, let me say one word in rela- 
 tion to the apparent neglect of ministers in speaking 
 to individuals in relation to their spiritual interests. 
 You may have said in your own mind, it is strange 
 that such or such a minister of the gospel never said 
 
340 SERMON XVIII. 
 
 anything to me personally respecting my spiritual well- 
 being. If you have been on terms of intimacy for a 
 long time with such a minister, and he has said no- 
 thing, it is truly strange. If not, may not a certain 
 shyness and coldness in your behavior have led him to 
 believe that he could not speak plainly without so dis- 
 obliging you as to lose all influence over you for future 
 good ? You say you have not intended any such thing. 
 Yet you may have done it ; and you have no right to 
 judge his motives or his wisdom till you have given 
 some intimations, by words or by actions, that such 
 conversation will be acceptable. Doubtless there is 
 great neglect in this respect in many cases. Yet, if 
 you are living in sin, and declining to approach the 
 minister of Christ for counsel, complaint and censure 
 come with a very ill grace from your lips. 
 
 3. If such be the responsibleness of the minister of 
 Christ, that is not less solemn which rests on others, 
 in their respective spheres of influence. Parents, 
 teachers, and indeed all persons, exercise each an in- 
 fluence on the spiritual interests of those to whom 
 they are socially related. As a specimen, let us 
 contemplate the single instance of the obligation of 
 parents, in respect to the souls of their children. 
 
 Fathers and mothers, you are ministers of God to 
 your children. Your flock is, indeed, less numerous 
 than that of the public preacher of the gospel. But 
 you have, on that very account, a more perfect super- 
 vision over them. Y^'our obligations da not respect so 
 large a number; but you arc under a weightier re- 
 
FREEDOM FROM SOUL-MURDER. 341 
 
 sponsibillty in regard to each one of your little flock 
 than any minister can be in respect to each one of his 
 more numerous charge. The principles that bind you 
 to faithfulness are the same as those that impose obli- 
 gation upon the pastor. You may become guilty of 
 soul-murder. Nor will the fact that you are not a 
 professor of religion diminish, in the least, the guilt 
 of your unnatural neglect of the spiritual well-being 
 of your offspring. Their souls are of unspeakable 
 worth. If you discharge your duty in teaching them, 
 and in praying for the illuminations of the Divine 
 Spirit; if you endeavor, with pious solicitude, to Avin 
 them to their Saviour, you may hope to be, under 
 God, the instrument of their salvation. If you ne- 
 glect them, they may be lost forever, and you may be 
 unable to stand up and shake your raiment, and say, 
 with Paul : ^' I am pure from the blood of all men," 
 or even to say, " I am pure from the blood of my own 
 dear children." 
 
 4. If such be the obligations of ministers, and, 
 by inference, the obligations of all men in their re- 
 spective spheres, each one is under still higher obliga- 
 tions in respect to himself. The obligation to secure 
 the well-being of persons bears some proportion to 
 the degree of probability with which success may be 
 expected. If the minister of the gospel knew cer- 
 tainly that his efforts would be of no avail, then he 
 could not be guilty of soul-murder, because it could 
 not be said that any sinner ever perished as a con- 
 sequence of his want of fidelity. But the probabili- 
 
 29* 
 
342 SERMON XVIII. 
 
 ties are great that he shall succeed in gaining some, if 
 he is faithful and persevering in his efforts. Parents 
 enjoy greater prospects of success. If they are faith- 
 ful, earnest, and persevering in their endeavors, they 
 are almost sure of ultimate success. Yet, neither the 
 devout and faithful minister nor the pious parent can 
 be absolutely certain that they shall have success in 
 a given case. It may be that they shall be compelled, 
 at last, to look on the object of their solicitude and 
 say: "Your blood be upon your own head: I am 
 clean." But there can be no such uncertainty in 
 respect to your own case. The parent has a more 
 complete supervision over his child than the pastor 
 has over an individual of his public charge. If the 
 parent fail, therefore, through his own unfaithfulness, 
 it is a more awful delinquency. He has less exposure 
 to failure. He has better advantages, and better 
 prospects of success. But you have a still more com- 
 plete supervision over yourself than the parent haa 
 over his child. You have greater probability of suc- 
 cess not merely ; you are certain of it, if you will do 
 your best to insure it. You cannot, under any possible 
 circumstances, stand up in your place among the lost, 
 and shake your raiment and say, I am clean from my 
 own blood. On the contrary, if you perish, though 
 others may have contracted guilt, your blood will be 
 pre-eminently on your own head. Let the admoni- 
 tions, therefore, that are contained in this discourse 
 come home to the bosoms of all ; to ministers of the 
 cross, to parents, to unconverted sinners. The souls 
 
FKEEDOM FROM SOUL-MURDER. 343 
 
 of men cannot perisli without involving somebody in 
 the guilt of soul-murder. The body may die by the 
 operations of natural law. Its dissolution may be only 
 a blessing — the taking down of a comparatively in- 
 commodious and even vile tabernacle, that the indwell- 
 ing spirit may go to reside in heavenly mansions; but 
 the soul cannot die but by an unnatural death ; it can 
 perish only by murder and suicide. Take heed that 
 its blood stain not your garments. Apply to Christ 
 for cleansing, and see to it that, through his atoning 
 blood, you may be prepared to walk with him in 
 white. 
 
SERMON XIX. 
 
 THE NATURE OF FAITH. 
 
 VERILY, VEKILY, I SAT UXTO TOU, HE THAT BELIETETH OX ME HATH 
 EVERLASTING LIFE. — Johll VI. 47. 
 
 True piety is simple. Yet it is triform in its mani- 
 festations. It develops itself in faith, prayer, and 
 labor. There is a remarkable beauty in the order 
 and connection of these three things. They are 
 striking and yet mysterious in their individual growth 
 and their interaction. They are like physical nature. 
 A living seed is planted. You see it. But what is it? 
 This is a great question. "VYe do not know what it is. 
 But we know that it is a germ of life. Under appro- 
 priate influences it will dilate, and a stem will sprout 
 forth from it. It will develop itself more and more. 
 It will put forth branches, and become clothed with 
 a beautiful verdure. The final cause of its existence, 
 however, is not yet apparent. After a time it displays 
 its blossoms, and fills the air with fragrance. Still, 
 we have not arrived at the end for which it was created. 
 It produces, at length, an abundance of nutritious 
 fruit. We think we have now reached the final cause. 
 That germ with its peculiar law was created to afi'ord 
 
THE NATURE OF FAITH. 845 
 
 sustenance to man. Perhaps so. Sucli, at least, was 
 one of the ends of infinite wisdom in its production. 
 Other objects, however, were incidentally achieved. 
 Its foliage aftbrded habitations, and play-grounds, and 
 solid food, and sips of dew for millions of rejoicing in- 
 sects. Its fragrance breathed a delicious pleasure into 
 the faces of all that passed by in the season of its 
 bloom. Its growth called forth the fostering care of 
 some human being, and the successive stages of its 
 development aided an analogous unfolding of the quali- 
 ties of an immortal mind. 
 
 It is even so with the germination, the growth, the 
 fruit-bearing of true piety. Faith Is the primordial 
 principle. Prayer sprouts up out of it as the stalk 
 from the seed, and active beneficence is the fruit. 
 We naturally conclude that this doing good, the fruit 
 of piety, is the end for which the germ was created. 
 Perhaps no Christian will doubt that it is the direct 
 end. Faith most naturally flows out in prayer as its 
 first objective endeavor. The cry of its infancy is : 
 " Lord, I believe ; help thou my unbelief." Its next 
 effort is to do good. Incidentally, it is true, other 
 ends are achieved. Faith, as the conscious throb of 
 spiritual life, is itself a good, an enjoyment. There is 
 "peace in believing." Prayer, too, is an outflow of 
 happy desire. Supplication is tinged with the light 
 of hope, and mixed with transports of gratitude and 
 praise ; and both faith and prayer act delightfully on 
 others as examples of the power and sweetness of pure 
 religion. Still, this is the right line of progress: 
 
346 SERMON XIX. 
 
 FAITH, PRAYER, LABOR. TliGSc are the " three words 
 of a believer," as far as the originating and on work- 
 ing of pietj are concerned. 
 
 Let us begin at the beginning. Faith is power. 
 It implies simplicity and energy ; and simplicity and 
 energy are the elements of power. The mind is un- 
 divided in its action when it is trustful. It fixes its 
 regards steadfastly on something which is without. In 
 exercisino; faith, it has nothino; in it of the nature of 
 listless and indolent musing. It thinks. It does not 
 float unresistingly on the current which happens to be 
 passing. On the contrary, it is in a state of exertion. 
 It may, to the unthinking, appear passive because it 
 is quiet. Yet it is energetic in its stillness. Like the 
 rocky cliff which forms a barrier to the ocean it seems, 
 sometimes, to do nothing. Yet, mind never displays 
 more energy than in standing still. You see this in 
 the martyr, when the powers of earth and hell con- 
 spire, in vain, to remove him from his steadfastness. 
 Frowns and threats are nothing to him. Instruments 
 of torture, though they rend his flesh, disturb not his 
 spirit. While the fire riots upon his nerves, and 
 wreaths of smoke ascend from his consuming frame, 
 an incense that fills heaven with fragrance arises from 
 the holy aspirings of his spiritual nature. How sub- 
 limely, too, is the same power of faith exhibited in a 
 thousand every day instances of calm endurance ; 
 instances which, though in comparison with the 
 martyr's sacrifice, they are as humble as the contri- 
 butions of the widow's mite, are, like the giving of 
 
THE NATURE OF FAITH. 347 
 
 tliat mite, manifestations of tlie most exalted princi- 
 ples. Faith takes its tone from the nature of its 
 object. It always has an object outside of the soul 
 itself. It ever rests on something true ; something 
 inspiring. In the patriot, that object is his country 
 or his country's interests, represented in its institu- 
 tions, its physical features, its heroes. In the man of 
 science, it is nature in the exactness of its laws ; the 
 simplicity, the uniformity, the majesty of its move- 
 ments. In the Christian, it is the perfect government 
 of God, the glorious system of his grace, and the re- 
 vealed eternal results of both in a scene of soul trans- 
 forming moral beauty ; or, more philosophically speak- 
 ing, it is Christ, the great author and upholder of that 
 government, the fountain of that grace, and the ever- 
 living dispenser of immortal blessedness. There is a 
 double action in faith. An effect is produced on one 
 when he becomes a believer. He also exercises an 
 influence. He receives something in believing. A 
 door is opened on that side of his nature which looks 
 towards the object of faith. Through that aperture, 
 the object pours in its influence, as the sun pours its 
 flood of light into a window opened towards it. There 
 are openings, also, on all the other sides of his nature. 
 Through each of fliese, there issues a copious, far reach- 
 ing: stream of influence; a stream which blesses thou- 
 sands in its flow, and which goes sounding on as a 
 hymn of praise through eternity. Faith is the life- 
 germ, the embryo form of subjective religion. It 
 exists prior to all those things which are reckoned 
 
348 SERMON XIX. 
 
 among tlic elements of active pietj. It is not some- 
 thing wliicli may exist in a dead form until it has been 
 vitalized by prayer. It is not a cold principle that is 
 to be warmed into energy by active labor. On the 
 contrary, faith imparts all the value to prayer and out- 
 ward acts of obedience which either of them possesses. 
 Without faith, prayer is vain babbling ; without faith, 
 acts of obedience are, at the best, only as motions of 
 an automaton. 
 
 With these general views of faith, it becomes of the 
 highest consequence to understand the precise nature 
 of that faith which the gospel demands. To render 
 the description full and perfectly intelligible, it will be 
 necessary to make a complete analysis, and to expand 
 and illustrate all the parts of the subject. The fol- 
 lowing points, then, must be separately and carefully 
 considered. 
 
 1. Faith must be distinguished as objective and 
 subjective. 
 
 2. Faith implies belief, but includes more than 
 belief. 
 
 3. Faith has respect to two things; to a truth 
 believed, and a person on whose testimony it is be- 
 lieved. 
 
 Faith, then, has two elements, an affectionate trust 
 in a personal being as worthy of confidence, and belief 
 resulting from that trust. Faith may be genuine when 
 it has respect only to an earthly friend. Faith may 
 be genuine, and have respect to Christ, and yet be 
 radically defective. Evangelical faith implies a trust- 
 
THE NATURE OF FAITH. 349 
 
 ing in Christ in Lis true character as the glorious Mes- 
 siah. Evangelical faith is faith in its highest direction ; 
 trust in Christ as worthy of supreme confidence. When 
 these points have been separately examined, they will 
 be better understood in their connections as leading to 
 a single result ; a just and comprehensive view of the 
 nature of that faith which the gospel enjoins. 
 
 For the sake of clearness, let us in the first place 
 distinguish faith as objectively and subjectively con- 
 sidered. The term is employed to denote the credenda 
 of Christianity, or the things which the gospel requires 
 us to believe. Felix heard Paul, concerning the faith 
 of Christ ; that is to say, he heard him discourse re- 
 specting those great Christian doctrines which must be 
 believed in order to one's becoming a true disciple of 
 Jesus. Thus, also, Paul is represented as preaching 
 the faith which he had once destroyed. The meaning 
 is sufficiently obvious. He endeavored by argument 
 to substantiate the truth of those principles which he 
 had formerly opposed. 
 
 The word faith is also employed to denote an affec- 
 tion of the mind, an interior sentiment. Such passages 
 as the following indicate this use of the term : '' 
 woman, great is thy faith ;" the apostles said unto the 
 Lord, "Increase our faith;" Barnabas ''was a good 
 man, and full of the IJoly Ghost, and of faith." " Je- 
 sus said unto them (his disciples) : Have faith in God." 
 Many subdivisions may be made under this twofold 
 designation; but they will all be found to belong 
 to one or the 'other of these departments: to faith 
 30 
 
350 SERMON XIX. 
 
 objectively considered, or the things lying outside of 
 the mind — the things to be believed ; or to subjec- 
 tive belief, a peculiar mental state designated by the 
 same word faith. In this discussion, we have to do 
 with faith only as an interior sentiment; an exercise 
 of the inner man. But what is faith ? What is the 
 precise form of this interior sentiment? The question 
 can be answered. The answer can be made intelligible 
 to such as will consent to think patiently of the sepa- 
 rate elements of the idea. Faith implies belief. You 
 believe that the sun will rise to-morrow. You do not 
 know that it will. But you act on your belief with as 
 much confidence as if you were inspired by the intui- 
 tions of perfect science. The belief that the sun will 
 rise to-morrow is a totally different state of mind from 
 the knowledge of the fact that the sun did rise this 
 morning. For all practical purposes, your convic- 
 tions are equally valuable ; are alike certain. Yet the 
 grounds of them are different. One is knowledge ; the 
 other is belief. This belief, this settled conviction of 
 the mind, with regard to the truth of a given proposi- 
 tion, is implied in faith. But, while belief is implied 
 in faith, and while the words faith and belief are often, 
 in common parlance, used synonymously, faith, as a 
 Christian grace, is the more comprehensive term. It 
 includes belief, but it means more than belief. Re- 
 pentance, as a feeling of the mind, has respect to two 
 objects ; a person and a thing. It has a relation to 
 the sin committed, and to the person against whom 
 the wrong was done. So faith has respect to two ob- 
 
THE NATURE OF FAITH. 351 
 
 jects ; to the thing believed, and to the person on whose 
 testimony and character that belief reposes. This 
 thought may be happily elucidated by instances. When 
 Saul and Jonathan fell in the great battle betAveen Israel 
 and the Philistines, the first intelligence of the sad dis- 
 asters of that day reached David through a young man 
 who had fled from the scene of carnage. This youth 
 informed him of the entire rout of the army, and also 
 of the death of Saul and Jonathan. Nothing was 
 more probable to the mind of the persecuted son-in- 
 law of the monarch than that such a discomfiture had 
 taken place. He knew that God had withdrawn his 
 favor from Saul. But his informant was a stranger. 
 He proceeded, therefore, to question him. He " said 
 unto the young man that told him. How knowest 
 thou that Saul and Jonathan his son be dead ? And 
 the young man that told him said, As I happened by 
 chance upon mount Gilboa, behold, Saul leaned upon 
 his spear ; and, lo, the chariots and horsemen followed 
 hard after him. And when he looked behind him, he 
 saw me, and called unto me: and I answered. Here 
 am I. And he said unto me. Who art thou ? And I 
 answered him, I am an Amalekite. He said unto me 
 again. Stand, I pray thee, upon me, and slay me ; for 
 anguish is come upon me, because my life is yet whole 
 in me. So I stood upon him, and slew him, because I 
 was sure that he could not live after that he was fallen : 
 and I took the crown that was upon his head, and the 
 bracelet that was on his arm, and have brought them 
 hither unto my lord. ' ' David believed this story, though 
 
352 SERMON XIX. 
 
 he certainly had no confidence in the man. It was, 
 in itself, probable that the army should have been cut 
 to pieces. God had forsaken the haughty king. If 
 the fortune of the day had gone against Israel, it was 
 more than likely that Saul and Jonathan were slain. 
 As warriors, they were not accustomed to turn back in 
 the day of battle. Their known bravery would greatly 
 expose them to death in case of defeat. The well- 
 known crown and bracelet lent confirmation strong to 
 the report that the beauty of Israel had been slain 
 upon the high places. Yet there was one circum- 
 stance in the narrative that seemed incredible. It 
 could scarcely be believed that one of Saul's own men 
 could have possessed the hardihood to dispatch the 
 fallen monarch, even at his own request. Hence Da- 
 vid distrustfully questioned the young man further, 
 and said to him: ''Whence art thou?" And he an- 
 swered: "I am the son of a stranger, an Amalekite." 
 This confession removes his doubts. He believes that 
 Saul and Jonathan are slain. Here was belief, but it 
 did not rest upon confidence in the witness. It was 
 not faith in the young Amalekite, though he did be- 
 lieve his story as being substantially true. He be- 
 lieved it, not from reposing confidence in the man, but 
 from the force of the circumstances. Now contrast 
 with this the faith of the Israelites, when it was pre- 
 dicted that Korah, Dathan, and Abiram, were about 
 to be destroyed by the Divine judgment. Moses " spake 
 unto the congregation, saying, Depart, I pray you, from 
 the tents of these wicked men, and touch nothing; of 
 
THE NATURE OF FAITH. 353 
 
 theirs, lest ye be consumed in all their sins. So 
 they gat up from the tabernacle of Korah, Dathan, 
 and Abiram, on every side." Here was faith in the 
 general sense in which the word is employed, when it is 
 used to describe a Christian grace. The congregation 
 believed that the threatened judgment would be in- 
 flicted. They believed this fact on account of their 
 confidence in him who predicted it. They had faith 
 in Moses. David believed the facts related by the 
 young Amalekite, but he had no such faith in the man 
 as the Israelites reposed in Moses. 
 
 This thought possesses another shade and demands 
 further elucidation. Belief sometimes has respect 
 both to a person and a thing ; and yet derives force 
 from the depravity, the untrustworthiness, of the wit- 
 ness. To render this perfectly clear, a different and 
 somewhat extended instance is needful — let it be a 
 supposed one : A wandering prodigal is reduced to 
 the deepest distress ; he approaches a wealthy but 
 hardhearted man, soliciting relief; assistance is coldly 
 refused. Pressed by his necessity, the poor beggar 
 goes again, hoping that his miseries may excite pity 
 and secure the needed aid. He is driven from the 
 rich man's door, with the threat that, if he is ever 
 seen there again, he will inflict on him summary chas- 
 tisement. He now receives an afi'ectionate invitation 
 from his father to return to the paternal mansion, 
 with the assurance that every possible provision is 
 made for his comfort. He believes both. He is re- 
 pelled from the miser's door by the belief that, if he 
 
 30* 
 
354 SERMON XIX. 
 
 returns, he shall meet with personal chastisement. He 
 is attracted to the home of his childhood by the be- 
 lief that all his father's promises are true. He believes 
 equally the promises of the one, and the threats of 
 the other. His belief, also, in both cases, arises from 
 the testimony of the parties. Is each state of mind 
 alike properly denominated faith ? By no means. 
 When he is repelled from the rich man's door, in this 
 instance, he cannot be said to be actuated by faith. 
 He believes, it is true, that the man is cruel, that he 
 "will exercise that cruelty again, if an opportunity 
 offers. Yet he has no faith in him. If the same un- 
 feeling man should ask the prodigal to repose confi- 
 dence in him, to put himself entirely in his power, 
 with a promise that he would take care of all his in- 
 terests, he would not do it. He would distrust him. 
 If, then, he should inquire more fully into that rich 
 man's character, and should learn that others have in- 
 trusted themselves to him, and had, of a consequence, 
 been reduced to the most cruel bondage, he would only 
 distrust him more and more. He would now believe, 
 more strongly than ever, that, if he should go to him 
 for alms, he would only meet with abuse, perhaps with 
 perpetual slavery. Do you not see, now, that the 
 more fully this poor prodigal believes what that man 
 told him in hi"' threat, the more he must distrust him? 
 Yes, the more he believes what the cruel miser says 
 the less faith he has in him. He does not incline to him 
 by anything like a generous confidence. Bat, let this 
 same prodigal commence his journey homeward. The 
 
THE NATURE OF FAITH. 355 
 
 nearer he approaches the paternal mansion, and the 
 more he reflects on his father's character, the greater 
 does his confidence become. He reads the letter 
 which first awakened his confidence. He marks one 
 item of the specified benefits intended to greet his re- 
 turn, and then another, and another. It seems, al- 
 most, as if the promises contained in the communi- 
 cation were too good to be true. He can scarcely 
 believe for joy. But he does believe that they will 
 every one be fulfilled, because he confides in his fa- 
 ther's power and goodness. As he dwells more on 
 that father's character, the specific promises grow 
 less and less important in his esteem. A general 
 filial confidence makes him satisfied with the bare 
 fact that he is soon to meet his father. Owned as a 
 child by such a parent, he knows that everything 
 will be right. A general confidence in him leads 
 him joyfully to commit himself to his paternal coun- 
 sel and care. This is faith. A belief in the truth 
 of the specific declarations and promises is im- 
 plied; but more than this is included in the whole 
 mental state referred to. There is a confidence 
 reposed in that father. What he has said is believed 
 not only, but also his character, his personal being, 
 has become to his child an object of loving trust. 
 Faith, then, as an inner sentiment, consists of these 
 two elements — an affectionate trust in a personal 
 being, as worthy of confidence, and a belief of facts, 
 as associated with it. These two elements always ex- 
 ist together, and act upon each other, where there is 
 
356 SERMON XIX. 
 
 true faith. One cannot be said to be the cause of the 
 other. They are strictly concomitant. Yet, in the 
 generation and growth of faith, they act unequally. 
 Belief of facts and principles sometimes exercises a 
 leading influence, and confidence in the personal 
 being is sometimes ascendant. But, whenever they 
 act upon each other reciprocally, they augment the 
 power of the whole complex sentiment. These two 
 elements may be termed the body and soul of faith. 
 Trust in a worthy personal being, is the life and soul ; 
 the virtuous element. Belief is the form wiiich this 
 confidence inhabits. Belief may exist without one 
 particle of this Divine life — this vital power. But, 
 this life-element of faith cannot exist without belief. 
 The devils believe ; are persuaded of indubitable 
 truths; but they have none of the life of faith. 
 Christians, on the contrary, repose trust in their Di- 
 vine Saviour, and this confidence in him is indissolu- 
 bly connected with the most implicit belief in what 
 he has said. 
 
 Another point demands especial attention, in order 
 to a clear idea of faith as a Christian grace. It may 
 be briefly denominated the extent of evangelical faith. 
 But explanation is necessary. An incident m. New 
 Testament history may be employed to unfold the idea, 
 and to render it intelligible. In the preparation for 
 the last passover, our Lord told his disciples to go into 
 the city, and that a man should meet them, bearing a 
 pitcher of water. He directed them to address that 
 man, and informed them that he would make all need- 
 
THE NATURE OF FAITH. 357 
 
 ful preparations. They believed all this. They be- 
 lieved it on Christ's statement alone. He had, often 
 before, predicted coming events. He had never once 
 deceived them. Anybody acquainted with the history 
 of our Saviour would have believed him. Judas would 
 have believed him. This was faith, to a certain extent. 
 It was genuine. But it was not sufficiently extended 
 to meet the demand, where it is said: " Believe on the 
 Lord Jesus Christ, and thou shalt be saved." Such 
 an injunction requires, not merely a trust in the Lord 
 Jesus, such as will secure a belief that some one thing 
 which he has stated is true ; it demands confidence 
 in him in his whole revealed character. It requires 
 us to repose trust in him as the true Messiah; to make 
 him the object of our supreme confidence. 
 
 This view of the nature of evangelical faith may be 
 completed by comparing the manner in which the 
 apostle Paul enjoined repentance and faith. He said, 
 in his address to the elders of the church at Ephesus, 
 that his former labors among them had been charac- 
 terized by '' testifying both to the Jews, and also to 
 the Greeks, repentance towards God, and faith towards 
 our Lord Jesus Christ." What was the object of the 
 apostle in this testimony ? Of course, it was to secure 
 the exercise of faith and repentance. He spoke of 
 each of these dispositions in their evangelical sense. 
 Hence, he characterized each by the person towards 
 whom it was to be exercised. The repentance, to pre- 
 serve the peculiar force of the Greek text, was a "to- 
 wards God" repentance. The faith was a "towards 
 
358 SERMON XIX. 
 
 Christ" faith. That is to say, each disposition had its 
 most exalted direction. Repentance could not be ex- 
 ercised towards a higher person that had been sinned 
 against. Repentance towards God was a higher grace 
 than it could be when exercised towards any other 
 being. So faith, when exercised towards Christ, can 
 have no higher direction. There is no personal being 
 in the universe more worthy of confidence, or worthy 
 of a higher degree of confidence, than the Lord Jesus 
 Christ. But why did the apostle make this distinction 
 in the personal objects of these dispositions ? Might 
 he not have said, repentance towards God, and faith 
 towards God ? May we not exercise confidence in God 
 as well as repentance towards God ? Undoubtedly we 
 may. Our Saviour himself said to his disciples, " Have 
 faith in God." Might he not also have said, repent- 
 ance towards our Lord Jesus Christ, as well as 
 faith towards our Lord Jesus Christ ? May wx not 
 repent of our sins towards our blessed Redeemer, as 
 well as put our trust in him? Doubtless we may. 
 When Jesus turned and looked upon Peter, " he went 
 out and wept bitterly." Those tears were tears of 
 repentance, repentance towards our Lord Jesus Christ. 
 Yet, it is obvious that the style of this passage had not 
 so well accorded with the nature of the Christian sys- 
 tem, if the persons had been reversed. If he had said, 
 " testifying" faith toAvards God, and repentance to- 
 wards our Lord Jesus Christ, it had sounded strangely, 
 and not in keeping with the whole tone of gospel teach- 
 ing. It is not difficult to discover a reason for this. 
 
THE NATURE OF FAITH. 359 
 
 God was first revealed as a Lawgiver and Judge. We 
 were involved in guilt in this relation, previously to 
 the revelation of a Saviour. It is from our sins against 
 this Lawgiver and Judge that Christ came to save us. 
 He came to lead us to repentance for our sins against 
 God. To do this work successfully, and to secure our 
 pardon, he must needs have our confidence. The mind 
 more readily discovers guilt in the direct contempla- 
 tion of the lawgiver, because " sin is the transgression 
 of the law." Hence, repentance more naturally and 
 primarily flows out towards God in this relation. On 
 the other hand, Christ is a personal manifestation of 
 God, in the exercise of his mercy and grace. Hence 
 faith naturally and primarily flows forth towards 
 Christ. 
 
 How beautiful and powerful is this faith in its inner 
 working. It is not an external gift. God does not 
 make something and impart it to the soul as the reward 
 for previous obedience. He does not bring it to us as 
 parents bring holiday gifts to their children. He does 
 not produce the objects of faith. No new domains are 
 created and covered with verdure, and adorned with 
 villas and palaces, and then given to the soul as a pro- 
 mised possession. The efi'ect is produced only in the 
 mind itself. External objects become the soul's trea- 
 sure, not by creation, but only by discovery. The 
 communication of faith is analogous, in this respect, 
 to unsealing the eyes of one born blind. To such an 
 one, the flowery gardens, and wooded lanes, and green 
 fields, and golden harvests, and lowing kine, and tune- 
 
360 SERMON XIX. 
 
 ful birds, and groups of happy children, present a new 
 scene of beauty. But they existed before. He had 
 even heard of them. The light too which now reveals 
 them had been every day poured over them before his 
 eyes were opened, just as it is at present. Yet, by a 
 change in himself, these objects become to him as a new 
 creation. They existed but were not seen till a change 
 in himself brought them, in all their reality, full upon 
 his vision. This change effects a permanent change 
 in the believer's relations. He takes a filial attitude, 
 and God becomes his father. He assumes a fraternal 
 position towards Christ and his disciples ; and Christ 
 and all his disciples become his brethren. Standing 
 on Calvary, he looks abroad with Jesus, and yearns for 
 the well-being of universal humanity. Yet this inte- 
 rior work of faith is small, at first. It is only as a 
 grain of mustard seed. But it grows. Or, to take 
 another of our Saviour's beautiful images, it is an irri- 
 gating fountain. Christ gives the believing soul to 
 drink. It thence becomes a living spring ; a well of 
 water in him, gushing and springing up into everlasting 
 life. It becomes, also, more copious as it flows, and 
 gradually extends its influence over all the domains of 
 the understanding, the conscience, and the heart. At 
 first, it is as if a slender rill had quickened into life a 
 narrow strip of verdure upon its margin. Thence, as 
 the stream swells in volume, the moisture penetrates 
 to a greater distance, and the fertile portion is ex- 
 panded. As the wideness of the verdant vale is still 
 enlarged, the ratio of increase is augmented, till, anon, 
 
THE NATURE OF FAITH. 361 
 
 every unreclaimed waste of the soul becomes a perfect 
 garden of fruits and flowers. Who, then, would not 
 participate in the faith of Christ ? Its inner workings 
 are satisfying. The principal object upon which faith 
 rests is perfectly glorious. The soul can desire nothing 
 purer, nothing more exalted. Christ, his holy character 
 and work, and the principles and results of his mission, 
 constitute a perfect scene of moral beauty. The soul 
 that drinks in the impressions of such an object with 
 such an environment, shall never thirst. He that feeds 
 upon such food shall never hunger. He that believeth 
 on Christ ''hath everlasting life." 
 
 THE END. 
 
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 We, the subscribers, having examined the Comprehensive Commentary, issued from the press of 
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 Rev. ERSKINE MASON, - « « « - 
 
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 Rev. Dr. BROWN, " Jefferson College, Penn. 
 
 LEONARD WOODS, D. D., Professor of Theology, Aadover Seminary. 
 
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 Rev. RALPH EMERSON, » Eccl. Hist. 
 
 Rev. JOEL PARKER, Pastor of Presbyterian Church, New Orleans. 
 
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 MARK TUCKER, D. D., " " u « « 
 
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 Rev. S. M. NOEL, « u u Frankfort, Ky. 
 
 FYom the Professors at Princeton Theological Seminary. 
 The Comprehensive Commentary contains the whole of Henry's E-vposition in a condensed fbrnij 
 Scott's Practical Observations and Marginal Referfnc*<s, and a large number of very valuable philo- 
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 judgment, fidelity, and care; and will furnish a rich treasure of scriptural knowledge to the 
 Biblical student, and to the teachers of SabbatU-Schools and Bible Classes. 
 
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 Butterworth, Cruden, or any other similar book in the language. 
 
 The value of a Concordance is now generally understood ; and those who have used one, con- 
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 2. A Guide to the Reading and Study of the Bible ; 
 
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 with notes and engravings added. 
 
 3. Complete Biographies of Henry, by Williams j Scott, by his 
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 with sketches of the lives and characters, and notices of the works, of the writers on the Scripturea 
 who are quoted in the Commentary, hvmg and dead, American and foreign. 
 
 This part of the volume not only affords a large quantity of interesting and useful reading for 
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 BIBLIOTHECA BIBLICA, 
 
 or list of the best works on the Bible, of all kinds, arranged under their appropriate heads. 
 
 4. A complete Index of the Matter contained in the Bible Text. 
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 The whole forms a desirable and necessary fund of instruction for the use not only of clergymen 
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 ation introduced into a volume of so moderate a size. It contains a librarv of sacred knowledge 
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 invaluable help to every reader of the Bible." HENRY MORRIS, 
 
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 The above work can be had in several styles of binding. Price varying 
 
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 BAGSTER'S COMPREHENSIVE BIBLE. 
 
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 1st. The SACRED TEXT is that of the Authonzed Version, and is printed from the edition cor- 
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 Tli8 Errors of Modern Infidelity Illustrated and Refuted. 
 
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 7 
 
LIPPINCOTT, ORAMUO & GO'S I'UBLICATIONS. 
 
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 ANECDOTES ILLUSTRATIVE OF THE CHARACTER OF MINISTERS OF RELI- 
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 BY JOSEPH BELCHER, D.D., 
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 clearly than very elaborate essays." — Baltimore American. 
 
 "We regard the collection as highly interesting, and judiciously made." — Presbyterian. 
 
 JOSEPHUS'S (FLAVIUS) WORKS, 
 
 FAMILY EDITION. 
 BY THE LATE WILLIAIW WHISTON, A. IVI. 
 
 FROM THE LAST LONDON EDITION, COMPLETE. 
 One volume, beautifully illustrated with Steel Plates, and the only readable edition 
 
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 As a matter of course, every family in our country has a copy of the Holy Bible ; and as the pre- 
 sunrjption is thai the greater portion often consult its pages, -we take the liberty of saying to all those 
 that do, that the perusal of the writings of Josephus will be found very interesting and instructive. 
 
 All_ those who wish to possess a beautiful and correct copy of this valuable work, would do well 
 to purchase this edition. It is for sale at all the principal bookstores in the United Slates, aiid by 
 U)untry merchants generally in the Southern and Western States. 
 
 Also, the above work in two volumes. 
 
 BURDER^S VILLAGE SERMONS; 
 
 Oi, 101 Plain and Short Discourses on the Principal Doctrines of the Gospel. 
 
 INTENDED FOR THK USE OF FAMILIES, SUNDAY-SCHOOLS, OR COMPANIES ASSEM- 
 BLED FOR RELIGIOUS IN.STRUCTION IN COUNTRY VILLAGES. 
 
 BY GEORCJE BURDER. 
 
 To which is added to each Sermon, a Short Prayer, with some General Prayers for Families, 
 
 Schools, <ic., at the end of the work. 
 
 COMPLETE IN ONE VOLUME, OCTAVO. 
 
 These sermons, which are characterized by a beautiful simplicity, the entire absence of contro- 
 versy, and a true evangelical spint, have gone through many and large editions, and been translated 
 into several of the contmental languages. " They have also been the honoured means not only of 
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 churches, where before it was comparatively unknown." 
 
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 This is a fine library edition of this invaluable work ; and when we say that it should be found in 
 the possession of every family, we only reiterate the sentiments and sincere wishes of all who take 
 • deep interest in the eternal welfare of mankind. 
 
 FAMILY PRAYERS AND HYMNS, 
 
 ADAPTED TO FAMILY WORSHIP, 
 
 TABLES FOR THE REGULAR ^READING OF THE SCRIPTURES. 
 
 By Rev. S. C. Winchester, A. M., 
 
 Late Paator of the Sixth Presbyterian Church, Phil.idelphia ; and the Presbyterian Chorcb at 
 
 Natchez, Miss. 
 Onevoliime,12mo. 
 
 S 
 
LIPPINCOTT, GRAMBO & CO.'S PUBLICATIONS. 
 
 SPLENDID LIBRARY EDITIONS. 
 
 ILLUSTRATED STANDARD POETS. 
 
 ELEGANTLY PRINTED, ON FINE PAPER, AND UNIFORM IN SIZE AND 
 
 STVLE. 
 
 The following Editions of Standard British Poets are ilhistrated with numerous Sveel 
 Engravings, and may be had in all varietif!s of binding. 
 
 BYRON'S WORKS. 
 
 COMPLETE IN ONE VOLUME, OCTAVO. 
 
 INCLUDING ALL HIS SUPPRESSED AND ATTRIBUTED POEMS; WITH SIX UEAUTIFUL 
 
 ENGRAVINGS. 
 
 This edition has been carefully compared with the recent London edition of Mr. Murray, and 
 made complete by the addition of more than fifty pages of poems lieretofcjre unpublished iu Eng- 
 land. Among these there are a number that have never appeared in any American edition ; and 
 the publistiers believe they are warranted in saying that this is the most complete edition of Lord 
 Byron's Poetical Works ever publislied in the United States. 
 
 t l^ortli'ul Sorks of Mrs. lenmns. 
 
 Complete in one volume, octavo; with seven beautiful Engravings, 
 
 This is a new and complete editicm, with a splendid engraved likeness of Mrs. Hemans, on steel, 
 and contains all the Poems in the last London and American editions. With a Critical Preface bjr 
 Mr. Thatcher, of Boston. 
 
 "As no work in the English language can be commended wath more confidence, it will argue bad 
 taste in a female in this country to be without a complete edition of the writings of one who was 
 an honour to her sex and to humanity, and whose productions, from first to la.st, contain no syllable 
 calculated to call a blush to the cheek of modesty and virtue. There is, moreover, in Mrs. Hemans's 
 poetry, a moral purity and a religious feeling which commend it, in an especial manner, to the dis- 
 criminating reader. No parent or guardian will be under the necessityjof imposing restrictions 
 with regard to ihe free perusal of every production emanating from this gifted woman. There 
 breathes throu;,'hout the whole a niost eminent exemption from impropriety of thought or diction; 
 and there is at times a pensiveness of tone, a winning sadness in her more serious compositions, 
 which tells of a soul which has been lifted from the contemplation of terrestrial things, to divine 
 communings with beings of a purer v/orld." 
 
 iVilLTON, YOUNG, GRAY, BEATTIE, AND CQLLINS'S 
 POETICAL WORKS. 
 
 COMPLETE IN ONE VOLUME, OCTAVO. 
 WITH SIX BEAUTIFUL ENGRAVINGS. 
 
 COMPLETE IN ONE VOLUME, OCTAVO. 
 
 Including two hundred and fifty Letters, and sundry Poems of Cowper, never before published in 
 
 this country; and of Thomson a new and intere.sting Memoir, and upwards of twenty 
 
 new Poems, for the first lime printed from his own Manuscripts, taken from 
 
 a late Edition of the Aldiue Poets, now publishing in London. 
 
 WITH SEVEN BEAUTIFUL ENGRAVINGS. 
 The distinguished Professor SilHniaii. speaking of this edition, ol)ser\'es : " I am as much gratified 
 by the elegance and fine taste of your edition, as by the noble tribute of genius and moral excel- 
 lence which these delightful autliors have left for all future generations ; and Cowfier, especially, 
 is not less conspicuous as a true Christian, moralist and teacher, than »s a poet of great power and 
 exquisite ta.ste." 
 
 9 
 
LIPPINCOTT, GRAMBO & CO.'S PUBLICATIONS. 
 
 THE POETICAL WORKS OF ROGERS, CAMPBELL, WONTGOIYIERY, 
 LAMB, AND KIRKE WHITE. 
 
 COMPLETE IN ONE VOLUME, OCTAVO. 
 WITH SIX BEAUTIFUL ENGRAVINGS. 
 
 The beauty, correctness, and convenience of this favourite edition of these standard authors are 
 8o well known, that it is scarcely necessary to add a word in its favour. It is only necessary to say, 
 that the publishers have now issued an illustrated edition, whicii greatly enhances its former value. 
 The engravings are excellent and well selected. It is the best lilirary edition extant. 
 
 CRABBE, HEBER, AND POLLOK'S POETICAL WOEKS. 
 
 COMPLETE IN ONE VOLUME, OCTAVO. 
 WITH SIX BEAUTIFUL ENGRAVINGS. 
 
 A writer in the Boston Traveller holds the following language with reference to these valuable 
 editions : — 
 
 '• Mr. Editor: — I wish, without any idea of puffin;?, to say a word or two upon the 'Library of 
 English Poets' that is now published at Pluladelphia, by Lippiacott, Gramlio <t Co. It is certainly, 
 taking into consideration the elegant manner in which it is printed, and the reasonable price at 
 whjch it is airordcd to purchasers, the best edition of the modern Brili^-h Poets that has ever been 
 published in this country. Each volume is an octavo of about 500 pages, double columns, stereo- 
 typed, and accompanied with fine engravings and biographical sketches ; and most of them are 
 reprinted from Galismani's French edition. As to its value, we need only mention that it contains 
 the entire works of Montgomery, Gray, Beattie, Collins, Byron, Cowper, Thom.son, Milton, Young, 
 Rogers, Campbell, Lamb, Hemans, Heber, Kirke White, Crabbe, the Miscellaneous Works of Gold- 
 smith, and afher masters of the lyre. The publishers are doing a great service by their publication, 
 and their volumes are almost in as great demand as the fashionable novels of the day ; and they 
 deserve tp be so : for they are certainly printed in a style superior to that in which we have before 
 had the works of the English Poets." 
 
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 A Co.'s illustrated editions. 
 
 A COMPLETE 
 
 lictionnri] nf ^^oftiml dliiiofaticns: 
 
 COMPRISING THE MOST EXCELLENT AND APPROPRIATE PASSAGES IN 
 THE OLD BRITISH POETS; WITH CHOICE AND COPIOUS SELEC- 
 TIONS FROM THE BEST MODERN BRITISH AND 
 AMERICAN POETS. 
 EDITED BY SARAH JOSEPHA HALE. 
 As nightingales do upon glow-worms feed, 
 So poets live upon the living light 
 Of Nature and of Beauty. 
 
 Bailey's Festus, 
 
 Beautifully illustrated with Engravings. In one super-royal octavo volume, in various 
 
 bindings. 
 
 niThe publishers extract, from the many highly complimentary notices of the above valuable and 
 beautiful work, the following: 
 
 "We have at last a volume of Poetical Quotations worthy of the name. It contains nearly six 
 hundred octavo jiajes, carefully and tastefully selected from all tlie home and forei;rn authors of 
 celei)rity. It is invaluable to a writer, wliile to the ordinary reader it presents every subject at a 
 glance." — Godei/'s Lcidi/^s Book. 
 
 " The plan or idea of Mrs Half's work is felicitons. It is one for which her fine Inste, her order!/ 
 Iiabits of mind, and her long occupaiion with litcritiiro. has given hor pcriili:(r Ia<Mlilics ; and tho- 
 longhly lias she acoomijlished her task in the work liefore us." — Sartrhn's Mayazijie. 
 
 "It is a choice colleciinn of poetical extracts from overv Enslisli and American author worth 
 |ierusiiig, from tlie days of Chamber to the present lime." — \\'ashinjton Union. 
 
 "Ttiere is notliing ue^'ative about this work ; it is positively good "— Evtning BulUtin. 
 
 10 
 
LIPPINCOTT, GRAMBO & CO.'S PUBLICATIONS. 
 
 THE DIAI^IOND EDITION OF BYRON. 
 THE POETICAL WORKS OF LORD BYRON, 
 
 "WriTH A SKETCH OP KIS LIFE. 
 
 COMPLETE IN ONE NEAT DUODECIMO VOLUME, WITH STEEL PLATES. 
 
 The type of this edition is so perfect, and it is printed with so much care, on fine white paper, 
 that it can be read with as much ease as most of the larger editions. T}iis work is to be had io 
 plain and superb binding, making a beautiful volume for a g\f\.. 
 
 " The Poetical Works of Lord Byron, complete m one volume : pnlilished by L , G. .t Co., Phila- 
 delphia. We hazard uothmg m saying that, take it altogether, this is the most elegant work ever 
 issued from the American press. 
 
 '"In a single volume, not larger than an ordinary duodecimo, the publishers have embraced the 
 Whole of Lord Byron's Poems, usually printed in ten or twelve volumes; and, what is more remark- 
 able, have done it with a type so clear and dislmot. that, notwithstanding its necessarily small size 
 It may be read with the utmost facility, even by failing eye.s. The book is stereotyjx'd ; and never 
 liave we seen a finer specimen of that art. Everything about it is perfect — the paper, the print- 
 mg.the binding, all correspond with each other; and it is embellished with two fine engravings, 
 well worthy the companionship in which they are placed. 
 
 " 'This will make a beautiful Christmas present.' 
 
 " We extract the above from Godey's Lady's Book. The notice itself, we are given to understand. 
 IS written by Mrs. Hale. 
 
 " We have to add our commendation in favour of this beautiful volume, a copy of which has 
 been sent us by the publishers. The admirers of the noble bard will feel obliged to the enleri.rise 
 which has prompted the publishers to dare a competition with the numerous editions of his works 
 already in circulation; and we shall be surprised if this convenient irdvellinK edition does not in a 
 great degree supersede the use of the large octavo works, which have little' advantage in size ana 
 openness of type, and are much inferior in the qualities of portability and lightness." — i;i/eZ/:i;e«C€r. 
 
 THE DIAIVIOND EDITION OF MOORE. 
 
 (corresponding WITH BYEON.) 
 
 THE POETICAL WOREs"OF THOMAS MOORE, 
 
 COLLECTED BY HIMSELF. 
 
 COMPLETE IN ONE VOLUME. 
 
 Tnis work is published uniform witli Byron, from the last London edition, and is the most com- 
 plete printed in the country. 
 
 THE DIAIVIOND EDITION OF SHAKSPEARE, 
 
 (complete IN ONE VOLUME,) 
 
 INCIiXTDXITG IL SKSTCH OF HIS I.IFI;. 
 
 UNIFORM Wrni BYRON AND MOORE. 
 
 THE ABOVE WORKS CAN BE H\D IN SEVERAL VARIETIES OF BINDING. 
 
 GOLDSMITH'S ANIMATED NATURE. 
 
 IN TWO VOLUMES, OCTAVO. 
 BEAUTIFULLY ILLUSTRATED WITH 385 PLATES. 
 
 CONTAINING A HISTORY OF THE EARTH, ANIMALS, BIRDS, AND FISHES; FORMING 
 THE MOST COMPLETE NATURAL HISTORY EVER PUBLISHED. 
 
 This is a work that should he in the library of every family, having been written by one of the 
 most talented authors in the English language. 
 
 "Goldsmith can never be made ob.soleie while delicate genius, exquisite feeling, fine invention, 
 the most harmonious metre, and the happiest dioMon, are at all valued." 
 
 BIGLAND'S NATURAL HISTORY 
 
 Of Animali, Birds. Fishes, Reptiles, and ln.sec:s. lllustratpd with numerous and beautiful Engra» 
 
 ings. By JOHN BiGI.ANI). author of a " View of the Worhl," " Letters on 
 
 Lhiiversitfilisi.iry." »tG Coinpleiu ii> 1 vol , lii.no. 
 
 11 
 
LIPPINCOTT, GRAMBO & CO.'S PUBLICATIONS. 
 
 THE POWER AND PROGRESS OF THE UNITED STATES. 
 
 THE UNITED STATES; Its Power and Progress. 
 
 BY GUILLAUIVIE TELL POUSSIN, 
 
 LATE MINISTER OF THE REPUBLIC OF FRANCE TO THE UNITED STATES. 
 
 FIRST AMERICAN. FROM THE THIRD PARIS EDITION. 
 
 TRANSLATED FROM THE FRENCH BY BDMOND L. DU BARRY, M. D., 
 
 SURGEON U. S. NAVY, 
 
 In one large octavo volume. 
 
 SCHOOLCRAFT'S GREAT NATIONAL WORK ON THE INDIAN TRIBES OF 
 
 THE UNITED STATES. 
 
 WITH BEAUTIFUL AND ACCURATE COLOURED ILLUSTRATIONS. 
 
 HISTORICAL AND STATISTICAL INFORMATION 
 
 RESPECTINa THE 
 
 HISTORY, CONDITION AND PROSPECTS 
 
 OF THE 
 
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 COLLECTED AND PREPARED UNDER THE DIRECTION OF THE BUREAU OF INDIAN 
 AFFAIRS, PER ACT OF MARCH 3, 1&17. 
 
 BT HUN-IfSr H. SCHOOZiCBikFT, Z.I..D. 
 
 ILLUSTRATED BY S. EASTMAN, Capt. U. S. A. 
 PUBLISHED BY AUTHORITY OF CONGRESS. 
 
 THE AMERICAN GAllDENER'S CALENDAR, 
 
 ADAPTED TO THE CLIMATE AND SEASONS OF THE UNITED STATES. 
 
 Containing a complete account of all the work necessary to be done in the Kitchen Garden, Frmi 
 Garden, Orchard, Vineyard, Nursery, Pleasure-Ground, Flower Garden, Green-house, Hot-house, 
 and Forcing Frames, for every month in the year ; with ample Practical Directions for performing 
 the same. 
 
 Also, g;eneral as well as minute instructions for laying nut or erecting each and every of the above 
 departments, according to mwleni tiuste and the most approved plans; the Ornamental Planting of 
 Pleasure Grounds, in the ancient and niwlern style ; the cultivation of Thorn Quicks, and other 
 plants suitable for Live Hedge.s, with the best method* of making them, &.c. To which are annexed 
 catalogues of Kitchen Garden Plants and Herb.s; Aromatic. Pot, and Sweet Herbs; Medicinal 
 Plants, and the most important Grapes, <kc., used in rural economy; with the soil best adapted to 
 their cultivation. Together with a copious Index to the body of the work. 
 
 BY BERNARD M 'MA HON. 
 
 Tenth Edition, greatly improved. In one vohune, octavo. 
 
 THE USEFUL AND THE BEAUTIFUL; 
 
 DH, DOMESTIC AND MORAL DUTIES NECESSARY TO SOCIAL HAPPINESS, 
 
 BEAUTIFULLY ILLUSTRATED. 
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 i 
 
LIPPINCOTT, GRAMBO & CO.'S PUBLICATIONS. 
 
 THE FARMER'S AND PLANTER'S ENCYCLOPAEDIA. 
 
 €^t /armtr's unir ^^Inntrr's (giinirlDpirMa nf iTvurul affairs, 
 
 BY CUTHBERT W. JOHNSOiN. 
 ADAPTED TO THE UNITED STATES BY GOUVERNEUR EMERSON. 
 
 Illustrated by scven^een beautiful Enpravings of Cuitle, Horsos. Sheep, the varieties of Wheat, 
 Barley, Oats, Grasses, the Weeds of Asricuiture, etc. ; besides numerous Engrav- 
 ings on wood of the most important implements of Agriculture, 6ic. 
 
 This standard work contains the latest and best informafion upon all subjects connected with 
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 tobacco, rice, sugar, <fec. <5cc. ; of horses and mules ; of cattle, with minute particulars relating to 
 cheese and butter-making; of fowls, including a description of capon-making, with drawings of the 
 instruments employed ; of bees, and the Russian and other systems of managing bees and con- 
 structing hives. Long articles on the uses and preparation of bones, lime, guano, and all sorts of 
 animal, mineral, and vegetable substances employed as manures. Descriptions of the most approved 
 ploughs, harrows, threshers, and every other agricultural machine and implement; of fruit and 
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 insects, and the best means of getting rid of them ; together with a thousand other matters relating 
 to rural life, about which information is so constantly desired by all residents of the country. 
 IN ONE LARGE OCTAVO VOLUME. 
 
 MASON'S FARRIER-FARMERS' EDITION. 
 
 Price, 62 cents. 
 
 THE PRACTICAL FARRIER, FOR FARMERS: 
 
 COMPRISINQ A GENERAL DESCRIPTION OF THE NOBLE AND DSEFUL ANIMAL, 
 
 THE HORSE; 
 
 WITH MODES OF MANAGEMENT IN ALL CASES, AND TREATMENT IN DISEASE. 
 TO WinCH TS ADDED, 
 
 A PRIZE ESSAY ON MULES | AND AN APPENDIX, 
 
 Ctrntaining Recipes for Diseases of Horses, Oxen, Cows, Calves, Sheep, Dogs, Swine, <tc. iSuj. 
 Formerly of Surry County, Virginia. 
 
 In one volume, 12mo.; bound in cloth, gilt. 
 
 MASON'S FARRIER AND STUD-BOOK-NEW EDITION. 
 THE GENTLEMAN'S NEW POCKET FARRIER: 
 
 COMPRISING A GENERAL DESCRIPTION OK THE NOBLE AND CSEFUL ANIMAL, 
 
 THE HOaSE; 
 
 WITH MODES OF MANAGEMENT IN ALL CASES, AND TREATMENT IN DISEASE 
 
 BV BZGHikRD Itl^SOSr, SS. 2>., 
 
 Formerly of Surry County, Virginia. 
 
 /o which is added, A PRIZE ESSAY ON MULES; and AN APPENDIX, containing Recipes lot 
 
 Diseases of Horses, Oxen, Cows, Calves, Sheep, Dogs, Swine, <tc. &.c. ; with Annals 
 
 of the Turf, American Stud-Bonk, Rules for Training, Racing, <5ic 
 
 WITH A SUPPLEMENT, 
 
 (,omprising an Es.say on Domestic Animals, especinlly Ihe Hor^e ; with Remarks on Treatment and 
 
 Breeding; together with Trotting and Racing Tahles. sliovi ,ng the liest time on record at on» 
 
 two, three and four mile he&Xs ; Poili^'rees of Winning Horses, since 1839, and of the most 
 
 celebrated Stallions and Mares; witli u-sefwl Calving and Lambing Tal)les. By 
 
 J. S. SJilNNEfi, Editor now of llie Parmer's Library, New York, ice. <tc. 
 
 13 
 
LIPPI^X^OTT, GRAMBO & CO.'S PUBLICATIONS. 
 
 HINDS'S FARRIERY AND STUD-BOOK-NEW EDITION. 
 FARRIERY, 
 
 TAUGHT ON A NEW AND EASY PLAN: 
 
 i> BEINO 
 
 % €xn\m m \\)t Bisrnsrs niih arritaiits nf tljB Xmst; 
 
 With Instructions to the Shoeing Smith, Farrier, and Groom ; preceded by a Popular Description of 
 the Animal Functions in Health, and how these are to be restored when disordered. 
 
 BY JOHN HINDS, VETERINARY SURGEON. 
 
 With considerable Additions and Improvements, particularly adapted to this countrv, 
 
 BY THOMAS M. SMITH, 
 
 Veterinary Surgeon, and Member of the London Veterinary Medical Society. 
 
 WITH A SUPPLEMENT, BY J. 8. SKINNER. 
 
 The publishers have received numerous flattering notices of the great practical value of these 
 works. The dL'tinguished editor of the American Farmer, speaking of them, observes: —*' We 
 cannot too highly reconmiend these books, and therefore advise every owner of a horse to obtain 
 thera." 
 
 "There are receipts in those books that show how Founder may be cured, and the traveller pur- 
 8U,e his journey the next day, by giving a tablespoonful of alum. 'I'tiis vv.-us sjot from Dr P. Thorntm. 
 of ^lontpelier, Rappaliannocit county, Virginia, as founded on his own observation m several cases." 
 
 " The constant demand for Mason's and Hinds's Farrier has induced the publishers, Messrs. Lip- 
 pincott, Grambo & Co.,to put forth new editions, with a ' Su[iplenienl' of UK) pages, by J. S. Skinner, 
 Esq. We should have sought to render an accejitahle service to our asmciiltural readers, by giviii!» 
 a chapter from the Supplenieiit, 'On the Relations between Man ami the Doiiii'stic Animals. es)ie- 
 cialiy the Horse, and tlie Obligations thoy impose ;' or the one on 'The Form of Animals;' but that 
 either one of them would overrun the space here allotted to sucli siilijecls." 
 
 " Lists of Medicines, and other articles which ought to be at hand about every trainin?anil livery 
 stable, and every Farmer's and Breeder's establisliment, will be found in these valuable works." 
 
 TO CARPENTERS AND IV1ECKANICS. 
 
 Just Published. 
 
 A NEW AND IMPROVED EDITION OF 
 
 THE CARPENTER'S NEW GUIDE, 
 
 BEING A COMPLETE BOOK OF LINES FOR 
 
 ARPENTRY ANJy JOINERY; 
 
 Treatmg fully on Practical Geometry, SafTu's Brick and Plaster Uroms, Niches of every dt scrix>tion. 
 
 Sky-lights, Lines for Roofs and Domes; with a great variety of Designs for Rou&, 
 
 Trussed Girders, Floors, Domes, Bridges. &c., Angle Bars for Shop 
 
 Fronts, 6lc., and Raking Mouldings. 
 
 ALSO, 
 
 Additional Plans for various Stair-Cases, with the Lines for producing the Face and Falling .Mouldii. 
 never before published, and greatly superior to those Kiven in a former edition of this woik. 
 
 BY WILLIAM JOHNSON, ARCHITECT, 
 
 OF PHIL.VDELPHIA. 
 
 Tht whole founded on true Geometrical Principles; the Theory and Practice w(dl exphiined and 
 fully exem[>lified, on Pic;hty-three copper plates, including some Observatuins and Calculations on 
 the Strenglii of Timber. 
 
 BY PETER NICHOLSON, 
 
 Author of "The Carpenter and Joi ler's Assistant," "The Studtnt's Instructor to the Five 
 
 Orders," &c. 
 
 Thirteenth Kdiiion. One volume, 4to., well bound. 
 
 u 
 
LIPriNCOTT, GRAMBO & CO.'S PUBLICATIONS. 
 
 A DICTIONARY OF SELECT AND POPULAR QUOTATIONS, 
 
 WHICH ARE IN DAILY USE. 
 
 TAKEN FROM THE LATIN, FREJ^CH, GREEK, SPA>fISH AND ITALIAN LANGUAGES. 
 
 Together with a copious Collection of Law Maxims and Law Terms, translated into 
 
 English, witli Illustrations, Historical and Idiomatic. 
 
 NEW AMERICAN EDITION, CORRECTED, WITH ADDITIONS. 
 
 One volume, 12rno. 
 
 This volume comprises a copious collection of leg^] and other terms which are in common use, 
 with English trHiisIiitions and historical illusirations ; and we should judge its author hud surely 
 been to a great "Fe;ist of Languages," and stole all the scraps. A work ol" this character should 
 have an extensive sale, as it entirely obviates a serious difficulty in which most readers are mvolved 
 by the frequent occurrence of Latin, Greek, and French pas.sages, which we suppose are introduced 
 by authors for a mere show of learnmg — a difficulty very perplexing to readers in gencnd. I'his 
 " Dictionary of Quotations," concerning which too much cannot be said<..ni its favour, effectually 
 removes the difficulty, and gives the reader an advantage over the author; for we believe a majority 
 are themselves ignorant; of the meaning of the terms they employ. Very few truly learned authors 
 will insult their readers by mlroduciiig Latin or French quotations in their writings, when "plain 
 English" will do as well ; but we will not enlarge on this point. 
 
 If the book is useful to those unacquainted with other languages, it is no less valuable to the 
 classically educated as a book of reference, and answers all the purposes of a Lexicon — indeed, on 
 many accounts, it is better. It saves the trouble of tumbling over the larger volumes, to which 
 every one, and especially those engaged in the legal profession, are verv often subjected. It should 
 have a place in every library in the country. 
 
 RUSCHENBERGER'S NATURAL HISTORY', 
 
 COMPLETE, WITH NEW GLOSSARY. 
 
 EMBRACING ZOOLOGY, BOTANY AND GEOLOGY; 
 
 FOR SCHOOLS, COLLEGES AND FAMILIES. 
 BV W. S. "W. £lTrSC£IE!£7B£:ilG£:R,3M.D. 
 
 IN TWO VOLUMES. 
 
 WITH NEARLY ONE THOUSAND ILLUSTRATIONS, AND A COPIOUS GLOSS.ARY. 
 
 Vol. I. contains Vertebrate Animals. Vol. II. contains Intervertebrate Animals, Bolajiy, and Greology. 
 
 A Beautiful and Valuable Presentation Book. 
 
 THE POET'S OFFERING. 
 
 EDITED BY MRS. HALE. 
 
 With a Portrait of the Editress, a Splendid Illuminated Title-Page, and Twelve Beautiful Engrav- 
 ings by Sartain. Bound in rich Turkey Morocco, and Extra Cloth, Gilt Edge. 
 
 To those who wish to make a present that will never lose its value, this will be found the most 
 desinible Gift-Book ever published. 
 
 " We commend it t(; all who desire to present a friend with a volume not only very beautiful, but 
 of solid intrinsic valde " — Washmjton Union. 
 
 "A perfect treiisury of the thoughts and fancies of the best English and American Poets. The 
 paper and printing aie beautiful, and the biiiduig rich, elegant, and substantial; the most sensible 
 and attractive of all the elegant giit-books we have seen." — Evtning BuUeLin. 
 
 •'The publishers deserve the thanks of the public for so happy a thought, so well executed. The 
 engravings are by the best artists, and the otlier portions of tlie work correspond in elegance." — 
 Fnbtic Ledfjer. 
 
 " There is no book of selections 50 diversified and appropriate within our knowledge." — Penn^lv'n. 
 
 "It IS One of the most valuable as well as elegant hoo.ks ever published in this country." — Godey's 
 Lady's Book. 
 
 •' It is the most beautiful and the most useful offering ever bestowed on th» public. No individual 
 at literary tafcte will veulore to be wilhoul it "— Ffif Cit'j [tan 
 
 15 
 
LIPPIxNCOTT, GRAMBO & CO.'S PUBLICATIONS. 
 
 THE YOUNG DOMINICAN; 
 OR, THE MYSTERIES OF THE INQUISITION, 
 
 AND OTHER SECRET SOCIETIES OF SPAIN. 
 BY M. V. DE FEREAL. 
 
 WITH HISTORICAL NOTES, BY M. MANUEL DE CUENDIAS. 
 
 TRANSLATKD FROM THK FRENCir. 
 ILLUSTRATED WITH TWENTY SPLENDin ENGRAVINGS BY FRENCH ARTISTS 
 
 One volume, octavo. 
 
 SAY'S POLITICAL ECONOMY. 
 
 A TREATISE ON POLITICAL ECONOMY; 
 Or, The Production, Distribution and Consumption of Wealth. 
 
 BY JEAN BAPTISTE SliTST. 
 
 FIFTH AMERICAN EDITION, WITH ADDITIONAL NOTES, 
 BY C. C. BIDDLE, Esq. 
 
 In one volume, octavo. 
 
 It woultl be beneficial to our country if all those who are aspiring to office, were required by theu 
 constituents to he familiar with the pages of Say. 
 
 The distinguished biographer of the author, in noticing this work, observes : " Happily for science, 
 he commenced that study which forms the basis of his adniirnble Treatise on Political Economy ; a 
 work which not only improved under his hand with every successive edjtion, but has been translated 
 into most of the European languasres." 
 
 The Editor of the North American Review, speaking of Say, observes, that "he is the moat 
 popular, and perhaps the most able writer on Political Economy, since the time of Smith." 
 
 LAURENCE STERNE'S WORKS, 
 
 WITH A LIFE OF THE AUTHOR: 
 
 WRITTEN BY HIMSELF. 
 
 WITH SEVEN BEAUTIFUL ILLUSTRATIONS, ENGRAVED BY GILBERT AND GIHON, 
 FRO.M DESIGNS BY' DARLEY'. 
 
 One volume, octavo; cloth, gilt. 
 
 To commend or to critici.se Sterne's Works, m this age of the world, would be all " wasteful and 
 extra vagrant excess." Uncle Toby — Corporal Trim — the Widow — Le Fevre — Poor Maria — the 
 Captive — even the Dead Ass, — this is all we have to say of Sterne; and iu the memory of these 
 cliaracters. histories, and sketches, a thousand follies and worse than follies are forgotten. The 
 volume is a very handsome one. 
 
 THE MEXICAN WAR AND ITS HEROES; 
 
 A COMPLETE HISTORY OF THE MEXICAN WAR, 
 
 EMBRACING ALL THE OPERATIONS UNDER GENERALS TAYLOR AND SCOTF. 
 
 WITH A BIOG-RAPHY OF THE OFFICERS. 
 
 ALSO, 
 
 AN ACCOUNT OF THE CONQUEST OF CALIFORNIA AND NEW MEXICO. 
 
 Uudor Gen. Keaniy, Cols. Doniphan and Fipmont. Together witli Numerous Anecdotes of tlie 
 
 War, and Personal Adventures of liie OfTicers. Illustrated with Accurate 
 
 I'orlniifs, uiid other Deaulil'iil Engravinjjs. 
 
 In one volume, I'Jmo, 
 
LIPPINCOTT, GRAMK) & CO.'S PUBLICATIONS. 
 
 NEW AND COMPLETE COOK-BOOK. 
 
 THE PRACTICAL COOK-BOOK, 
 
 CONTAINING UPWARDS OF 
 
 ONE THOITSjfkXTB RSCBIPTS, 
 
 Consisting: of Directions for Selecting, Preparingr, and Cooking all kinds of Meats, t'ish, Poultry, and 
 Game; Soups, Broths, Vegetables, and Salads. Also, for making all kinds of Plain and 
 Fancy Breads, Pastes, Puddings, Cakes, Creams, Ices, Jellies, Preserves, Manna- 
 lades, (kc. <tc. <kc. Together with various Miscellaneous Recipes, 
 and numerous Preparations for Invalids. 
 
 BY MRS. BLISS. 
 In one volume, 12mo. 
 
 BY J. B. JONES, 
 
 AUTHOR OF "WILD VV'^ESTERN SCENES," "THE WESTERN MERCHANT," 4ec 
 
 ILLUSTRATED WITH TEN ENGRAVINGS. 
 
 In one volume, 12mo. 
 
 EL PUCHERO ; or, A Mixed Dish from Mexico. 
 
 EMBRACING GENERAL SCOTT'S CAMPAIGN, WITH SKETCHES OF MILITARY LIRE IN 
 
 FIELD AND CAMP; OF THE CHARACTER OF THE COUNTRY, RLA.NNERS 
 
 AND WAYS OF THE PEOPLE, <kc. 
 
 BY RICHARD M 'SHERRY, M. D., U. S. N., 
 
 Late acting edrgeon of regiment of marines. 
 
 In one volume, 12mo. 
 
 WITH NUMEROUS ILLUSTRATIONS. 
 
 MON£Y-BA@S AND TITLES ! 
 
 A HIT AT THE FOLLIES OF THE AGE. 
 
 TRANSLATED FROM THE FRENCH OF JULES SANDEAU. 
 
 BY LEONARD MYERS. 
 
 One volume, 12mo. 
 "'Money-Bans and Titles' is quite a remarkable work, amounts to a kindly exposure of the folly 
 of human pride, and also presents at once the evil and the remedy. If good-natured ridicule of 
 the impostures practised by a set of self-styled reformers, who have nothing to lose, and to whom 
 change must be gain — if, in short, a delineation of the mistaken ideas which prevent, and the 
 means which conduce to happiness, be traits deserving of commendation, — the reader will find 
 much to enlist his attention and win his approbation in the pages of this unpretending, but truly 
 meritorious publication." 
 
 WHAT IS CHURCH HISTOM? 
 
 A VINDICATION OF THE IDEA OF HISTORICAL DEVELOPMENTS. 
 
 BY PHILIP SCHAF. 
 TRANSLATED FROM THE GERMAN. 
 
 In one volume, 12mo. 
 17 
 
LIPPINCOTT, GRAMBO & CO.'S PUBLICATIONS. 
 
 DODD'S LECTURES. 
 
 DISCOURSES TO YOUNG MEN. 
 
 ELUSTRATED BY NUMEROUS HIGHLY INTERESTING ANECDOTES. 
 
 BY WILIilAlVl DODD, LL. D., 
 
 CHAPLAIN IN ORDINARY TO HIS MAJESTY GEORGE THE THIRD. 
 
 FIRST AMERICAN EDITION, WITH ENGRAVINGS. 
 
 One volume, ISmo. 
 
 THE IRIS: 
 
 AN ORIGINAL SOUVENIR. 
 With Contributions from the First Writers in the Country. 
 
 EDITED BY PROF. JOHN S. HART. 
 
 With Splendid Illuminations and Steel Engn-avini^. Bound in Turkey Morocco and rich Papier 
 
 Mache Binding. 
 
 IN ONE VOLUME, OCTAVO. 
 Its contents are entirely origrinal. Among the contributors are names well known in the republic 
 of letters ; such as Jlr. Boker, Mr. Stoddard, Prof. Moffat, Edith May, Mrs. Sigourney, Caroline May, 
 Mrs. Kinnoy, Mrs. Butler, Mrs. Pease, Mrs. Swift, Mr. Van Bibber, Rev. Chuiles T. Brooks, Mrs. 
 Dorr, Era-stus W. Ellsworth, Miss E. W. Barnes, Mrs. Williams, Mary Younj;, Dr. Gardetle, Alice 
 Carey, Phebe Carey, Augusta Browne, Hamilton Browne, Caroline Eustis, Margaret Junkin, Maria 
 J. B. Browne, Miss Starr. Mrs. Brotherson, Kate Campbell, <tc. 
 
 (§>m3 frnm tlie $muh Mine; 
 
 OR, HOLY THOUGHTS UPON SACRED SUBJECTS. 
 
 BY CLERG-YMEN OF THE EPISCOPAL CHURCH. 
 
 EDITED BY THOMAS WYATT, A.M. 
 
 In one volume, 12mo. 
 
 WITH SEVEN BEAUTIFUL STEEL ENGRAVINGS. 
 
 The contents of this work are chiefly by clergymen of the Episcopal Church. Among tiie con- 
 tributors will be found the names of the Right Rev. Bishop Potter, Bishop Hopkins, Bishop Smith, 
 Bishop Johns, and Bishop Doane ; and the Rev. Drs. H. V. D. Johns, Coleman, and Butler ; Rev. G. 
 T. Bedell, .M'Cabe, Ogilsby, <kc. The illustrations are rich and exquisitely wrought engravings upon 
 t.ie following subjects: — "Samuel before Eli," "Peter and John healing the Lame Man," "The 
 Resurrection of Christ," "Joseph sold by his Brethren," "The Tables of the Law." "Christ's 
 Agony in the Garden," and "The Flight mto Egypt." These subjects, with many others in prose 
 and verse, are ably treated throughout the work. 
 
 HAW-HO-NOO: 
 
 OR, THE RECORDS OF A TOURIST. 
 
 BY CHARLES LANMAW, 
 
 Author of " A Summer in the Wilderness," &c. In one volume, 12mo. 
 
 " In the present book, 'Hcno-ho-noo,' (an Indian name, by the way, for America,) the author has 
 Ifathered up some of the relics of his former tours, and added to them other interesting niutler. It 
 contains a numl>er of carefully written and instructive articles upon the various kinds offish in our 
 country, whose capture affoni.s sport for anglers ; reminiscences of unique incidents, manners, and 
 en.stonis in different parts of llie country; and other articles, narrative, descriptive, and sentimental. 
 Ill a supplement are gathered many curious Indian legends. They are related wiili great simplicity 
 and clearness, jind will be of scr\'ice hcreafler to the poem-makers of .Vini^rica. Many of tlMJin are 
 qtiitc bciiiitirul " — Nnlinnul iHldtmmccr. 
 
 18 
 
LIPPINCOTT, GRAMBO & CO.'S PUBLICATIONS. 
 
 LONZ POWERS; Or, The Regulators. 
 A ROMANCE OF KENTUCKY. 
 
 FOUNDED ON FACTS. 
 
 BY JAIVIES WEIR, ESQ. 
 
 LV TWO VOLUMES. 
 The scenes, characters, and incidents in these volumes have been copied from nature, and from 
 real life. They are represented as taking place at that period in the history of Kentncky, when 
 the Indian, driven, after many a hard-fought field, from his favourite hunting-ground, was succeeded 
 by a rude and unlettered population, interspersed with organized bands of desperadr»es, scarcely 
 less savage than the red men they had displaced. The author possesses a vigorous and graphic 
 pen, and has produced a very interesting romance, which gives us a stiiking portrait of t lie times 
 he describes. 
 
 THE WESTERN MERCHANT. 
 
 A NARRATIVE, 
 
 Containing useful Instruction for the Western Man of Business, who makes his Purchases in th« 
 East. Also, Information for the Eastern Man, whose Customers are in the West. 
 Likewise, Hints for those who design emigrating to the West. De- 
 duced from actual experience. 
 
 BY LUKE SHORTFIELD, A WESTERN MERCHANT. 
 
 One volume, 12mo. 
 
 This is a new work, and will be found very interesting to the Country Merchant, <kc. <fec. 
 
 A sprightly, pleasant book, with a vast amount of information in a very agreeable shape. B"jsl- 
 osss, Love, and Keligion are all discussed, and many proper sentiments expressed in regard to each. 
 The "moral" of the work is summed up in the following concluding sentences; "Adhere stead- 
 fastly to your business ; adhere steadfastly to your first love ; adhere steadfastly to the church. " 
 
 A MANUAL OF POLITENESS, 
 
 COMPRISING THE 
 
 PRINCIPLES OF ETIQUETTE AND RULES OF BEHAVIOUR 
 
 IN GENTEEL SOCIETY, FOR PERSONS OP BOTH SEXES. 
 
 18mo., with Plates. 
 
 Book of Politeness. 
 
 THE GENTLEMAN AND LADY'S 
 
 BOOK OF POLITENESS AND PROPRIETY OF DEPORTMENT 
 
 DEDICATED TO THE YOUTH OF BOTH SEXES. 
 
 BY 3VIADAIVIE CELNART. 
 
 Translated from the Sixth Paris Edition, Enlarged and Improved. 
 
 Fiftli American Edition* 
 
 One volume, 18mo. 
 
 THE ANTEDILUVIANS; Or, The World Destroyed. 
 
 A NARRATIVE POEM, IN TEN BOOKS. 
 
 BY JAMES M'HENRY, M.D. 
 
 One volume, 18mo 
 
 19 
 
LIPPINCOTT, GRAM BO & CO.'S PUBLICATIONS. 
 
 Bennett's (Kev, John) Letters to a Young Lady, 
 
 ON A VARIETY OF SLM5JECT3 CALCULATED TO IMPROVE THE HEART, 
 TO FORM THE MANNERS, AND ENLIGHTEN THE UNDERSTANDING. 
 
 "That our daughters may be as poLshed corners of the temple." 
 The publishers sincerely hope (for the happiness of mankind) that a copy of this valuable little 
 work will be found the coui[inniun of every young lady, as uiuch of the happuiHSS of every foauly 
 depends on the proper cultivation of the female mind. 
 
 THE DAUGHTER'S OWN BOOK: 
 
 OR, PRACIICAIj IIIXiS FROM A FATHER TO HIS DAUGHTER. 
 
 One volume, 18mo. 
 
 This is one of the most practical and truly valuable treatises on the culture and discipline of the 
 female mind, which has hitherto Ijecn published in this country ; and the pulihshers are veo' confi- 
 dent, from the grreat demand fur this invaluable htlle work, that ere long it will be found in the 
 library of every young lady. 
 
 ' THE AMERICAN CHESTEimELD: 
 
 Or, "Youth's Guide to the Way to V/ealth, Honour, and DistinctioD/' k. 18mo. 
 
 CONTAINING ALSO A COMPLETE TREATISE ON THE ART OF CARVING. 
 
 "We most cordially recommend the American Chesterfield to general attention; but to youHg 
 persons particularly, as one of the best works of the kind that has ever been published in thw 
 country. It cannot be too highly appreciated, nor its perusal be unproductive of satisfaction and 
 usefulness." 
 
 SENECA'S MORALS. 
 
 BY WAY OF ABSTRACT TO WHICH IS ADDED, A DISCOURSE UNDER 
 THE TITLE OF AN AFTER-THOUGHT. 
 
 BYSIR ROGER L'ESTRANGE, KNT. 
 
 A new, fine edition ; one volume, 18mo. 
 A oop7 of this valuable little work should be found in every family library. 
 
 NEW SONG-BOOK. 
 
 drigg'jj loiitljrrn nii^ Wudm longstrr; 
 
 BEING A CHOICE COLLECTION OF THE MOST FASHIONABLE SONGS, MANY OF \VTI1CH 
 
 ARE ORIGIN.AL. 
 
 In one volume, 18 mo. 
 
 Great care was taken, in the selection, to admit no song that contained, in the slightes|^e^ree, 
 any indelicate or improi)er allusions; and with stoat propriety it muyclaiin the title of "The Pai- 
 lour Song-Book, or Songster." The immortal Sliakspeare observes — 
 
 "The man that hath not music in himself. 
 Nor is not moved with concord of sweet sounds, 
 Is fit for treasons, stratagems, and spoils." 
 
 ROBOTHAM'S POCKET FRENCH DICTIONARY. 
 
 CAREFULLY REVISED, 
 AND THE PRONUNCIATION OF ALL THE DIFFirPLT WORDS ADDED 
 
 20 
 
LIPPINCOTT, GRAMBO & CO.'S PUBLICATIONS. 
 
 THE LIFE AND OPINIONS OF TRISTRAM SHANDY, 6ENTLEIV1AN. 
 
 COMPRISING THE HUMOROUS ADVENTURES OF 
 
 UNCLE TOBY AND CORPORAL TRIM. 
 
 BV If. STEHITE. 
 Beautifully Illustrated by Darlcy* Stitcliecia 
 
 A SENTIMENTAL JOURNEY. 
 
 BY L. STERNE. 
 
 Illustrated as a1>ove by Darley* Stitclied* 
 
 The beauties of this author are so well known, and his errors in style and expression so few and 
 far between, that one reads with renewed delight his delicate turns, (kc. 
 
 THE LIFE OF GENERAL JACKSON, 
 
 WITH A LIKENESS OF THE OLD HERO. 
 One volume, ISmo. 
 
 LIFE OF PAUL JONES. 
 
 In one volume, 12mo. 
 WITH ONE HUNDRED ILLUSTRATIONS 
 
 BY JAMES HAMILTON. 
 
 The work is compiled from his orisin:il journals and correspondence, and includes an account of 
 his services in the American Revohition, and m the war between the Russians and Turks in the 
 Black Sea. There is scarcely any Naval Hero, of any age, who combined in his character so much 
 of the adventurous, skilful aniJ darinsf, as Paul Jones. The incidents of his life are almost as start 
 lin^ and absorbing as those of romance. His achievements diirin;? the American Revolution — the 
 fiRht between the Bon Homme Richard and Serapis, the most desperate naval action on record — 
 and the alarm into which, with so small a force, he threw the coasts of England and Scotland — are 
 matters comparatively well known to Americans; but the incidents of his subsequent career have 
 been veiled in obscurity, which is dissipated by this biography. A book like this, narrating the 
 actions of such a man, ought to meet with an extensive sale, and become as pojuilar as Robinson 
 Crusoe m fiction, or Weenis's Life of Marion and Washington, and similar books, in fact. It con- 
 tains 400 pages, has a handsome portrait and medallion likeness of Jones, and is illustrated with 
 numerous original wood engravings of naval scenes and disthiguished men with whom he waa 
 familiar. 
 
 Or, A Narrative of the Captivity and Escape of Christophoros Plato Castanis, 
 
 DURING THE MASSACRE ON THE ISLAND OF SCIO BY THE TURKS 
 TOGETHER WITH VARIOUS ADVENTURES IN GREECE AND AMERICA. 
 
 WRITTEN BY HIMSKLF, 
 
 Author of an Essay on the Ancient and Modern Greek Languages ; Interpretation of the Attribatea 
 
 of the Principal Fabulous Deities ; The Jewish Maiden of Scio's Citadel ; and 
 
 the Greek Boy in the Sunday-School. 
 
 One volume, 12mo. 
 
 THE YOUNG CHORISTER; 
 
 & Collection of New and Beautiful Tunes, adapted to the use of Sabhath Schools, from some of tn« 
 most distinguished composers; together with ni.u'.y of the author's coiii;'osi:ions. 
 
 EDITED BY MIN.MID W. V/ILSON. 
 21 
 
LIPPINCOTT, GRAMBO & CO.'S PUBLICATIONS. 
 
 CAMP LIFE OF A VOLUNTEER. 
 
 A Campaign in Mexico; Or, A Glimpse at Life in Camp. 
 
 BY "ONE WHO HAS SEEN THE ELEPHANT," 
 
 Tift nf dennnl ^arfjnrii ^nijlDr, 
 
 COMPRISING A NARRATIVE OP EVENTS CONNECTED WITH HIS PROFESSIONAL 
 CAREER, AND AUTHENTIC INCIDENTS OF HIS EARLY YEARS. 
 
 BY J. REESE FRY AND R. T. CONRAD. 
 
 With an original and accurate Portrait, and eleven elegant Illustrations, by Darle/j -^ 
 
 In one handsome 12mo. volume. 
 
 " It is by far the fullest and most interesting biography of General Taylor that we have ever seen." 
 —Richmond ( Whig) Chronicle. 
 
 " On tlie whole, we are satisfied that this volume is the most correct and comprehensive one yet 
 published." — HunVs Merchants' Magazine. 
 
 " The superiority of this edition over the ephemeral publications of the day consists in fuller and 
 more authentic accounts of his family, his early life, and Indian wars. The narrative of liis pro- 
 ceeduiss in Me.xico is drawn partly from reliable private letters, but chietly from bis own ofocial 
 correspondence. " 
 
 " It forms a cheap, substantial, and attractive volume, and one which should be read at the fire- 
 •ide of every family who desire a faithful and true life of the Old GeneraL" 
 
 GENERAL TAYLOE AND HIS STAFF : 
 
 Comprising Memoirs of Generals Taylor, Worth, Wool, and Butler ; Cols. May, Cross, Clay, Hardin, 
 
 Yell, Hays, and other distinguished Officers attached to General Taylor's 
 
 Army. Interspersed with 
 
 NUMEROUS ANECDOTES OF THE MEXICAN WAR. 
 
 and Pei^sonal Adventures of the Officers. Compiled from Public Documents and Private Corre- 
 spondence. With 
 
 ACCURATE PORTRAITS, AND OTHER BEAUTIFUL ILLUSTRATIONS. 
 In one volume, 12mo. 
 
 GENERAL SCOTT AND HIS STAFF : 
 
 Ooinprismg Memoirs of Generals Scott, Twiggs, Smith, Quitman, Shields, Pillow, I.ane, Cad walader 
 
 Patterson, and Pierce; Cois. Childs, Riley, Harney, and Butler; and other 
 
 distinguished officers attached to General Scott's Army. 
 
 TOGETUER WITH 
 
 Notices of General Kearny, Col. Doniphan, Col. Fremont, and other officers distinguislicd in the 
 Conquest of California and New Mexico ; and Personal Adventures of the Officers. Com- 
 piled from Public Documents and Private Correspundence. With 
 
 ACCURATE PORTRAITS, AND OTHER BEAUTIFUL ILLUSTRATIONS. 
 
 In cue volume, 12mo. 
 
 THE FAMILY DENTIST, 
 
 I.VCLUDING THE SURcflCAL, MEDICAL AND MECHANICAL TREATMENT 
 
 OF THE TEETH. 
 
 Illustrated witli thirty-ione En^ravlnjs^s* 
 
 By CHARLES A. DU BOUCHET, M. D., Dental Surgeon. 
 In one volutno, 18mo. 
 
LIPPINCOTT, GRAMBO & CO.'S PUBLICATIONS. 
 
 MECHANICS FOR THE MILLWRIGHT, ENGINEER AND MACHINIST, 
 CIVIL ENGINEER, AND ARCHITECT: 
 
 CONTAINING 
 
 THE PRINCIPLES OF MCHANICS APPLED TO MACHINERY 
 
 Of American models, Sleam-Engines, Water-Works, Navigation, Bridge-building, &c. itc Rf 
 
 FREDERICK OVERMAN, 
 Author of "The Manufacture of Iron," and other scientific treatises. 
 
 Illustrated by 150 Engravings. In one large 12mo. volume. 
 
 WILLIAMS'S TRAVELLER'S AND TOURIST'S GUIDE 
 
 Through the United States, Canada, &c. 
 
 This book will be found replete with information, not only to the traveller, but likewise to th<» 
 man of business. In its preparation, an entirely new plan has been adopted, which, we are con- 
 vinced, needs only a trial to be fully appreciated. 
 
 Among its many valuable features, are tables showing at a glance the dirtance, /ar«, and time 
 occupied in travelling from the principal cities to the most important places in the Union ; so thaV 
 the question frequently asked, without obtaining a satisfactory reply, is here answered in ful'j. 
 Other tables show the distances from New York, <kc.,to domestic and foreign ports, by sea; and 
 also, by way of comparison, from New York and Liverpool to the principal ports beyond and around 
 Cape Horn, <kc., as well as via the Isthmus of Panama. Accompanied by a large and accurate Map 
 of the United States, including a separate Map of California, Oregon, New Mexico and Utah. Also, 
 a Map of the Island of Cuba, and Plan of the City and Harbor of Havana; and a Map of NiagsuTk 
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 No. 14 North Fourdi Su-eet^ Philadelphia. 
 
11 
 
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