yp— 
 
 <:^V , 
 
 ^:.:-^ 
 
 ■Jf^v;., V A 
 
 ■■•''-'■•i^^--*»*»--i-,-«* 
 
 .>^*>^P^V- -.j^' 
 
 
 F-3J 
 K.320S 
 
 
 ^^ ' /• •• 
 
?1>=^ 
 
 i i 
 
 
 ■^OGlCAi^V^'<^> 
 
 
^IIE G05PEL ADAPTED TO THE STATE ANA 
 
 CIRCUMSTANCES OF MAN. ^^^JS^ 0^ ^iHC* 
 
 \ 
 
 ^T 19 1955 
 
 A S E R M O N-^'^"^^^*^*^ 
 
 PJJJEACUED BEFORE 
 
 THE SOCIETY IN SCOTLAND 
 FOR PROPAGATING CHRISTIAN KNOWLEDGE; 
 
 AT TliE?R ANNIVERSARY MEETING 
 
 IN ril^ HIGH CHURCH OF EDINBURGH^ 
 
 Thurfdcy, June S. 1/88. 
 
 BY THE REV. JOHN KEMP, 
 
 ONE OF THE MINISTERS OF EDINBURGH, AND A EIRECTUR OF THE S0CIET7. 
 To wiich arc aiidcd v 
 
 FACTS SERVING TO ILLUSTRATE 
 
 THE CHARACTER 
 
 OF 
 THE RIGHT HONOURABLE 
 
 THOMAS LATE EARL OF KINNOULL. 
 
 EDINBURGH: 
 
 ^T THE SilOKCpJEf^, BY MARTIN AND T.I'DO'.VALL . 
 
 ylnno 1788. 
 
Edinburgh, June 5- 1788. 
 
 jit a General Meeting of the Society in Scotland 
 for propagatifig Chriflian Knoiuledgc^ 
 
 Resolved, 
 
 in A T the Thanks of the Society be gi- 
 ven to the Reverend Mr John Kemp, for 
 his excellent Sermon preached this day be- 
 fore them, and that he be requefted to al- 
 lov^^ the fame to be printed for the benefit: 
 «?f the Society. 
 
 J A. BONAR, Clk. 
 
TO THE RIGHT HONOURABLE 
 
 ROBERT EARL OF KINNOULL. 
 
 My Lord, 
 
 At the defire of your worthy and 
 revered itncle, thejollowingfermon was 
 preached, I had repeatedly declined thai 
 Bffice uponformer occajtons^ but His com^ 
 mands to me zuere f acred ^ for theyzverc 
 ever reafo7iable ami ohliging. 
 
 To him it was my original piirpofe to 
 hmve afked permiljion to addrefs it, not 
 
( vi ) 
 
 merely Jromtherejpe^l dueto him as Pre-^ 
 
 Jident of the Society y hut from a more per ^ 
 
 fonal connexion y leading to warmer fen- 
 
 thnents of gratitude. My obligations to 
 
 that good man were great. He was my 
 
 father s beJiefiSlor and friend. He dl- 
 
 fllngulfoed me In early life by his kind 
 
 notice y — to him I was Indebted for my 
 
 frf preferment In the Churchy and to 
 
 him I was bound by his unhiterrupted 
 
 friendly regards ^ for near twenty years. 
 
 To him, for he feemed anxious to per ^ 
 
 petuate to me the klndnefs of his family^ 
 
 I owe your Lordfjlf s knowledge of7ne^ 
 
 and the polite attentions tvlth which you 
 
 have honoured me 1 am proud to em- 
 
( vil ) 
 
 brace the opporUmity which your perm'if- 
 fion has afforded me of piiklijljing under 
 the JanElion of your nafiiC) my grateful 
 Jenfe of thefe fingular favours. 
 
 It is the conjolation of your country^ 
 my Lordy and it is mincy upon the lofs of 
 that venerable and good man whom you 
 reprefenty that his fucceffor has imbibed 
 his fpiritj and is ambitious offollozving 
 his example, 
 
 And may you indeed y my Lord ^ walk 
 
 In his feps, May equal utility and 
 
 equal honour mark the progrejs of 
 your Ifcy and in late old age^ when it 
 fmllfeem good to Divine Providence 
 to call you hence ^ may your memory be 
 
Oppoiition to the gofpel, however, lias 
 hot ceafed : It has only aflumed a differ- 
 ent form, the more daiigerous, |)erhaps, 
 that it is difguifed. Even among its pro- 
 feffed advocates and defenders, there are 
 not wanting fome moft unfriendly to thofe 
 fublime and important truths, by which, 
 as a fyflem of religion, it is peculiarly di- 
 ftinguiiliedi 
 
 Thefe men, affuming it as a principle, 
 that human reafon is the fole judge of all 
 obje(5ls of faith, make it their endeavour to 
 b^nd Chriflianity into a compliance with 
 the didlates of their own underflanding. 
 They fix the limits even of a divine reve- 
 lation, and whatever exceeds the boun- 
 daries which they have marked out, they 
 fcruple not to reject as incredible, and im- 
 poffible to have qome from God. 
 
 Much learning and excellent criticifm 
 have been employed in defence of the an- 
 cient and generally received fyflem of e- 
 vangelical truth, and to prove tliat it is 
 
( 3 ) 
 
 no lefs really than apparently contained in 
 the word of God. 
 
 But, independent of the plain and di- 
 re(5l teflimony of fcripture and juft rea- 
 foning founded upon it, there is a teft, by 
 which doctrines claiming to be evangeli- 
 cal, may, and ought to be tricd,_a crite- 
 rion to which the advocates for human 
 reafon ought not to objecl, becaufe at 
 lead to a certain extent, it accords with 
 their own plan, and that is the ftandard 
 of human nature ; not, indeed, as it is 
 exhibited in the fancied portraits of poets 
 and philofophers, but as it is feen and felt 
 in obfervation and experience. 
 
 Is the gofpel, in the full extent and con^ 
 nexion of its do£lrines, adapted to the flate 
 and circumflances of man ? Is it fitted, 
 with exquifite fldll, to afford a fupply to 
 his wants, and a remedy to his intelledu- 
 al diforders ? Is its native tendency to e^ 
 levate our fpecies to a rank in the fcale of 
 moral excellence, far beyond what any 
 
 Aij 
 
( 4 ) ' 
 Other fyftem ever propofed or attempted I 
 Then, from its own nature arifes an ar- 
 gument for its Divine Original, amount- 
 ing almoft to demonftration ; and every 
 ferious candid enquirer will acknowledge 
 with the apoflle, in the words of my text, 
 that " Ch7'ijl is the wifdom of Gody^ or, 
 in other words, that thefe doctrines, and 
 that fyflem which have Chrift for their 
 author and objedl, by their ftru6lure and 
 tendency afford evidence of wifdom more 
 than human, and could h^ve proceeded 
 only from God. 
 
 This is the fubjedl to which I wifh to. 
 diredl the attention of my much reipecfl- 
 ed hearers, upon the prefent occafion. It 
 is evidently an important theme. It places 
 the fcheme of the gofpel, not perhaps in 
 a new, yet certainly in a mofl interefling 
 point of light, and feems well adapted to 
 the intention of our prefent affembly. 
 
 And if, upon a fair and candid exami- 
 nation, it fhall appear, that the gofpel is 
 
( J ) 
 
 admirably adapted to the ftatc and cir- 
 cumflances of man, to remove his difor^ 
 ders, to fupply his defecfls, and to carry 
 him forward to the higheft improvement 
 of vv^hich his faculties render him fufcep- 
 tible ; then it follovvrs, that, to convey the 
 knowledge of that fyftem to thofe of our 
 fellow creatures, who either enjoy it not: 
 at all, or but in a very imperfcd: degree, 
 is an undertaking benevolent and laud- 
 able ; and that a fociety which have this 
 for their objedl, are entitled to the ap- 
 probation and countenance of their fel- 
 Jow citizens, 
 
 In the profecution of this fubjedl, I 
 wifli not to attempt a laboured argument 
 addreffed to the mere intellecl : my ap- 
 peal is to feeling and experience, as well 
 as to reafon. I wiih my hearers to retire 
 into their own bofoms, to attend to what 
 pafFes there, — and there to fuffer a plea 
 
( 6 ) • 
 
 in behalf of " Chrifl, as the w'lfclom ofGod^ 
 to reach them. 
 
 Upon an attentive furvey of the natu- 
 ral Itate and circumftances of man, the 
 following proportions, it is imagined, 
 will be found undeniably true. 
 
 Firjl^ That man, altho' indued with 
 the capacity of receiving information, yet, 
 by his own nnaiTifled efforts, is totally 
 unable to acquire the knowledge of thole 
 truths, with w^hich it chiefly imports him 
 to be acquainted. 
 
 Secondly^ That, upon his being enlight^ 
 ened with the true knowledge of God, 
 and of his duty, he mufh necelTarily be 
 impreffed with a deep fenfe of his own 
 depravity and guilt. 
 
 I'birdly^ That he has a confcioufnefs of 
 moral obligation, and ideas of moral ex- 
 cellence, which from experience he finds 
 he never can by his own efforts fulfil and 
 attain. 
 
( 7 ) 
 
 Fourthly^ That he is fubjedled to many 
 afflidions, for which, upon the principles 
 of reafon, he cannot account, nor difco- 
 ver to what good purpofe they tend. 
 
 Lajily^ That, although he feels both 
 prefliges of, and defires after a future ftate 
 of being, yet, from the light of nature, 
 he neither derives aflurance of its exig- 
 ence, nor any certain information con- 
 
 cernmg it. 
 
 Let vis confider thefe proportions, and 
 enquire how far they are founded. If it 
 fhall appear that they are flridlly true^ 
 then let us examine in what manner the 
 gofpel provides a remedy for the difor- 
 ders, and a fupply to the defedls which 
 they imply. The fubjecl, I am fenfiblc, 
 is far too extenfive for the limits of a 
 fnigle difcourfe ; but it was the fubjecl 
 recommended for this occafion by a per- 
 fon to whom both the Society and the 
 Preacher lie under many obligations,-— .a 
 
( 8 ) 
 
 perfon wliofe extenfive knowledge and 
 deep fenfe of religion, vindicated by a 
 correfponding pradlice, gave peculiar 
 "Weight to his opinions, and recommen- 
 dations in matters where religion was 
 concerned ; I mean our late noble and 
 excellent Prefident. Refpedl for the me- 
 mory of this good man is my apology for 
 entering upon fo large a field. It is in- 
 deed but a fmall part of it over which I 
 can hope to travel ; but I may be able, 
 perhaps, to point out to my hearers fome 
 paths by which, with much pleafure and 
 advantage, it may be explored. 
 
 The Jirjt propofitlon is, That man, 
 though indued with a natural capacity 
 of receiving information, yet, by his own 
 unafTifted efforts, is totally unable to ac- 
 quire certain knowledge concerning thofe 
 truths and objects, with which it is of 
 chief importance for him to be acquaint- 
 ed. 
 
( 9 ) 
 
 The caufe of human reafon has been 
 pleaded with abiUty and zeal ; ingenuity 
 and fkill have been exhibited in the con- 
 l\ru6lion of beautiful fyftems of natural 
 religion ; the lovelinefs and obligation of 
 virtue have been displayed in all the glow- 
 ing colours of imagination and languagCc 
 But thefe elaborate efforts in defence of 
 the human underftanding, it is to be ob- 
 ferved, are, almoft all of them, poflerior, 
 not only to the Chriftian aera, but to the 
 period of the Reformation. What nature 
 could, or could not have done, it is per- 
 haps impoffible for us, by an abitrac^ in- 
 veftigation of the queftion to determine. 
 But what fhe has done, and in the moft 
 favourable circumflances we certainly 
 know, and the refult affords no great 
 I'oom for boafting to her advocates. 
 
 Let us look into the ftate of religious 
 knov/ledge among nations unacquainted 
 \vith a divine revelation, not among the 
 rude and barbarous, they might be deem- 
 
 B 
 
( "o ) 
 
 ^d unfair examples ; but in the philofo-^ 
 phical and claflical ages of Greece and 
 Rome, when all the powers of the human 
 mind were cultivated to a degree of per- 
 fedlion, which the efforts of modern times 
 never can furpafs. And yet in thofe re- 
 fined ages, when fcience and art fhone 
 forth with a luftre which does honour to 
 humanity, how grofs and deplorable was 
 the darknefs of even the wifeft of men 
 with regard to the mofl important of all 
 fubjedls, the nature and perfections of the' 
 Deity, the relations which man bears ta 
 God, and the duties which thefe relations 
 infer ? It were indeed highly unbecoming 
 in us, who enjoy fuch fuperior advantages 
 to affedl to undervalue the ancients. In 
 compofition and reafoning, as well as in 
 the fine arts, they will ever be regarded 
 as models even to modern genius. And 
 as to religion and morals, what labour and 
 learning and ingenuity could do, they 
 have done ; yet how miferably they have 
 
( u ) 
 
 failed is known to all who are convei fani 
 in their writings. Their ideas of God 
 were vague, confufed, contradidlory : To 
 the rational homage, due to him as the 
 Creator, Preferver, and Governor of the 
 univerfe, they were ftrangers : Their fyC- 
 tems of morals were confined and defec- 
 tive, being calculated rather for the forms 
 of republican government, than for man- 
 kind at large ; their profpedls of futurity 
 were dark and uncertain. 
 
 Thefe things, it were eafy to prove, by 
 entering into a particular detail ; they of- 
 ten have been proved to a demonflration ; 
 what then fhall we think of the modefty 
 of modern advocates for reafon, who, 
 w^iile they pretend to rejedl the aid of di- 
 vine revelation, lay claim to a knowledge 
 in divine things, more accurate and pro- 
 found than was ever poffeiTed by a Socra- 
 tes or a Plato, a Cicero or an Antoninus? 
 This affumed fuperiority is an infult offer- 
 ed not to revelation only but to reafon itfelf. 
 
( 12 ) 
 
 But if men of profound intelledlual a* 
 bilities, whofe whole time and attention 
 were devoted to abflracfl fpeculations, were 
 ignorant of the leading fundamental prin- 
 ciples of religion, what mud have been the 
 fituation of the great body of the peo- 
 ple ? 'Than the philofophers profe (Ted not 
 to teach, them they regarded, and treated 
 with the mod fovereign conteinpt. The 
 religion of the people was accordingly a 
 motely compofition of fable and fuperlli- 
 tious abfurdity. Their manners corre- 
 fponded ; and what hopes could be en- 
 tertained of their reformation, wdiile, in 
 their moll flagitious enormities, they were 
 vindicated by the example of the gods, or 
 rather the fidlitious monflers of vice and 
 impiety which they adored ? 
 
 What then in refpedl of religious infor- 
 mation conftitutes the aflonifliing differ- 
 ence between them and us ? Nothing it is 
 obvious, but that written revelation with 
 which God has blefTed mankind in the 
 
( >3 ) 
 fcripmres : A fyflem calculated for the hir 
 ftruckion and moral improvement, not of 
 the wife and learned only, but of the peo- 
 ple at large, of mankind in all ages and 
 nations; in every Iphere and condition ot 
 life, and in every itage of intellefluai im- 
 provement. 
 
 Our blelled Saviour and his apoftles held 
 no fecret doctrines with myfterious cau- 
 tion imparted to their iiumediate difciples, 
 and other do(3:rines, which they promul- 
 gated to the people. They addrelled their 
 whole fyftem to the public, and in terms, 
 which, while level to the meaneft capacity, 
 were calculated to enlighten the mofl: pro- 
 found. Hence we account for a fact the 
 moil extraordinary in the hiilory of our 
 fpecies, that a Chriftian of the meanell 
 ftation knows more of God and things 
 divine, than all the wife and learned of Pa- 
 gan antiquity. While they difputed con- 
 cerning the being, perfe(5lions, and govern- 
 Bient of the Deity, and could agree upon 
 
{ H ) 
 nothing; the humble Chriftlan mechanic 
 knows and firmly believes in the one only- 
 living and true God, the Creator, Prefer- 
 ver, and moral Governor of the world. 
 
 While they doubted whether any, or 
 what adls of devotion were proper, be ap- 
 proacheth with humble joy and confidence 
 to the God and Father of the Lord Jefus 
 in thefe exercifes of his worlhip, which 
 
 God himfelf hath prefcribed While 
 
 ibey removed God to an infinite diftance 
 from them, and refolved all events into 
 an unintelligent blind fate, or into gene- 
 ral undiftinguiihing laws of nature origi- 
 nally eflablifhed j be believes and confides, 
 in the conftant prefence and influence of 
 a kind over-ruling and particular provi- 
 dence. — While ancient philofophe^'s de- 
 bated concerning a ftate of future exift- 
 ence, leaning fometimes to the fide of hope, 
 but oftener far to that of doubt, and on 
 the whole confidered death rather as an 
 eternal deep, than an introdudion to ano° 
 
( ts ) 
 
 ther mode of being; the Chrifliian, learn- 
 ed in the fcripturcs alone, regards thiv^ 
 life but as the commencement of his ex- 
 iflence, and death as the gate through 
 which he fhall enter into manlions of im- 
 mortal felicity and perfection While 
 
 the difciples of nature could never con- 
 ceive an idea fo ftrange as that of the re- 
 furredlion of the body, or fo aftonifliingly 
 grand as that of a general judgment ; e- 
 very real Chriftian's mind is eflabliflicd 
 in the belief, that a day is approaching, 
 when the whole human race in one vafl 
 aflembly, and in both parts of their frame 
 reftored to union, lliall Hand before the 
 tribunal of him v/ho made them, fliall 
 each receive from his righteous fentence 
 a portion fuited to his real charadler, and 
 be immediately fent into realms of eter- 
 nal happinefs, or regions of darknefs and 
 defpair. What magnificent, what fub- 
 lime ideas are thefe ! How far beyond the 
 teach of human difcovcry; and how pow-^ 
 
( i6 ) 
 
 erfiil muft be their influence upon every 
 mind which fincerely believes them ! 
 
 But it is not in thefe grand leading prin- 
 ciples alone, that the naturally dark and 
 benighted mind is illuminated by the 
 rofpel ; no truth in religion or morals is 
 left undifcovered which it is neceflary or 
 proper for man to know, and none, per- 
 haps, which, in the prefent flate of his 
 faculties, it is polTible for him to com- 
 prehend. Every thing is revealed which 
 can ferve to enlighten his underftanding, 
 with reipe^l to the great principles of faith 
 and duty, form his heart to the love of 
 God and goodnefs, and train him up in 
 a courfe of progrefiive moral improve- 
 ment, into a fitnefs for being finally unit- 
 ed with the Author of his exiftence. 
 
 Thefe truths, permit me to obferve, as 
 tL matter deCerving particular attention, 
 the Chriftian receives, not as probable 
 Gonclufions from a train of reafoning, in 
 ■which it 13 poflible his own mind may 
 
( >7 ) 
 
 have deceived him ; he afTeiits to them 
 not with a faith, wavering at befl, and 
 always fubjedl to the encroachments of 
 doubt; he receives them upon the tefti- 
 mony and authority of God ; he confides 
 in them as truths, certain as his own ex- 
 iflence, and which, even in his wided 
 deviations from the plan of condud: they 
 prefcribe, it is impoiTible for hini to re-, 
 ject. The experienced Chriflian, in giving 
 credit to this divine fyftem, refts upon e^ 
 vidence, Vv^hich, though he cannot com-^ 
 municate it to other men, is to him de- 
 monftration; by its irrefillible energy and 
 happy influence upon his own heart and 
 life, he knows and feels that it is the poivey 
 and the 'wifdom of God for falvation. 
 
 Thus it appears evident, from the igno^ 
 ranee that preva,iled in the mofl cultivat- 
 ed ages, that reafon alone is a mofl infuf- 
 ficient guide to thofe truths which are of 
 chief importance for man to know, that 
 fupernatural difcoveries were abfolutely 
 
 G 
 
( '8 ) 
 
 necefTary, and that in this refpedl the go- 
 fpci rtveiation is admirably adapted to the 
 circuniflances and neceflities of human 
 nature. 
 
 ,This will appear no lefs evident from 
 coniidering the 
 
 Second propofition, That the human 
 iTiind, upon being enlightened with the 
 true knowledge of God and of duty, 
 muft neceffarily be imprefled with a con- 
 fcioufnefs of guilt, and dread of punilh- 
 ment, for which reafon and nature have 
 provided no remedy. 
 
 That mankind in all ages, and under e- 
 ven the mod imperfecfl: notions and forms 
 of religion, were afFe(fled with a fenfe of 
 their own ill defert from a fuperior be- 
 ing or beings, appears evident from the 
 w^hole train of their hiftory. The great 
 Author of nature never left himfelf with- 
 out a witnefs in the human breaft. The 
 voice of cunfcience " acciifwg or excujifjg*^ 
 
{ 19 ) 
 too mucli accorded with the decifions of 
 the underftanding, to be wholly filenced 
 by bad education, or corrupt fyftems of 
 religion. 
 
 Yet it is certain that our ideas and our 
 feelings of moral turpitude muft always^ 
 in a great degree, depend upon the no- 
 tions of duty which we have formed or 
 received. It follows, therefore, that they 
 whofe minds, inflead of being improved, 
 Were debafed and corrupted by prevailing 
 fyflems, muft have felt comparatively but 
 little unealinefs, in confequence of their 
 deviations from the laws of genuine reli- 
 gion and of pure morality. Hence the i- 
 dea of moral obligation, with the ancient 
 Heathens, was the refult oi feeling rather 
 than of reafon; and their religious fervices 
 the extorted drudgery of mercenary dread, 
 rather than the voluntary tribute of reve- 
 rence and love. It was chiefly their ex- 
 perience of phyfical evil which gave birth 
 to their confcioufnefs of moral guilt, it 
 
 Cij 
 
( 20 ) 
 
 was when lightnings flaflied and thunder^ 
 rolled, when war and famine and pefti- 
 lence fpread devaftation around^ that they 
 were terrified into the belief of having de-* 
 viated from the will, and tranfgrelTed the 
 laAvs of the God of nature. Hence their 
 omens, their augurs and oracles, their 
 priefls and temples, and the whole coftly 
 train of their religious rites ; hence in a 
 a particular manner, their vi6lims offered 
 up in facrifice to obtain the favour, or ex- 
 piate the wrath of offended Deity. 
 
 Sacrifices, as has been often obferved^ 
 afford the mofl unequivocal proof, not 
 only that a fenfe of guilt and of deferved 
 punifliment, but alfo of the necefTity of an 
 atonement, were univerfal among man- 
 kind. At the fame time, it mufl be ad- 
 mitted, that reafon, in vain, feeks to find 
 out a connexion between the fliedding of 
 the blood of an animal, and the remiflion 
 of hviman tranfgrefTion. With much pro^ 
 bability, therefore, it has been conclud-* 
 
( ^I ) 
 
 td, that the idea of facrifices originated, 
 not from the natural dedudions of rea- 
 fon, but from a divine revelation handed 
 down by tradition. Yet ftill the univer- 
 fality of the praftice, while other truths 
 and ordinances of religion were totally 
 obliterated and forgotten, amounts to a 
 proof, that a fenfe both of guilt, and of 
 the neceflity of an atonement is congeni- 
 al to the human mind* 
 
 If fuch was the general conviction of 
 mankind, when guided by nature alone, 
 and with fuch imperfedl notions of God 
 and duty as flie afforded, what mufl be 
 the ideas and feelings of men enlightened 
 in the true knowledge of the Supreme Be- 
 ing, the extent and perfedlion of his laws, 
 and the awful fandlions by which they are 
 enforced ? Many, it is admitted, acknow- 
 ledge thefe truths, who are but little af- 
 fected by their pradical influence. When 
 ftimulated by the impvilfe of paflion, rea- 
 fon, and argument, and even obvious in- 
 
( 22 ) 
 
 terefl plead with them in vain. It is not iii 
 the feafon of health and profperity that 
 we can expe6l, from a man of the world, 
 ferious attention to the reprefentations of 
 another, or even to the convidlions of his 
 own mind, concerning the depravity of 
 his chara(fler. But vifit him in the day 
 of his calamity, when pain of body and 
 angnifli of fpirit have taken hold of him. 
 See him efpecially in the near views of 
 death, roiifed to confideration of his fpi- 
 ritual and eternal (late, forced to look 
 back upon his paft life, and forward to 
 an awful futurity ; alk him then how he 
 is to appear before God, what account 
 he can give of his life, and upon what 
 grounds his hopes are founded ? (No 
 harm, but much good, may arife to each 
 of us, from our fometimes, in imagina- 
 tion, placing ourfclves in thefe circum- 
 flances, 'ere long they will be real to us 
 all, and afldng ourfelves fiich interefting 
 queflions.) 
 
( 23 ) 
 
 The dekiiive hopes which ignorant fa- 
 perliition received from defigning prieft- 
 craft, it is not neceflary in this country 
 and in the prefent age to expofe. Except- 
 ing that of the gofpcl then, there are but 
 two pleas, to which with any probabiUty 
 of fuccefs, man can have recourfe ; his 
 own attainments in virtue ; and the mer- 
 cy of God. As to the firft of thefe, the 
 plea of merit ; who, that is pofTefTed of a 
 found mind, will, for a moment, reft up- 
 on it, as his title to eternal life ? Exa- 
 mine the beft of your actions, analyze 
 the principles from which they proceed- 
 ed, and on which they were conducted ; 
 bring them to the ftandard of confcience, 
 compare them with the pure and fpotlefs 
 precepts of the gofpel, you will find that 
 they come far {hort, that they are full of 
 
 imperfection But had the cafe been o- 
 
 therwife, and had a few adlions of your 
 life been perfectly pure and virtuous, ftill . 
 you are but unprojitabk fervants, and even 
 
( 24 ) 
 
 in thefe have done no more than, your 
 duty. Surely, then, thefe can make no a^ 
 tenement for the innumerable tranfgref- 
 lions which you mull confefs. The plea 
 of merit, indeed, from a creature to his 
 Creator, from a creature, efpecially, fo 
 guilty and depraved as man, is at once fo 
 arrogant and abfurd, that ftupidity and 
 ignorance alone can urge it. 
 
 The other plea to which the finner may 
 have recourfe, — the mercy of God^ — is far 
 more plauiible ; yet neither will this a^ 
 vail him, if raifed on any foundation favc 
 that which God himfelf hath eftabiiflied 
 in the gofpel. In any other way it mud 
 be rejedled as invalid both by reafon and 
 by confcience. For, the Hern demand of 
 reafon is abfolute, unlimited obedience ; 
 and the accufing voice of confcience fills 
 the heart, not with the hopes of pardon 
 and acceptance, but with the fad forci- 
 bodings of impending judgment. What 
 then is the ground upon which the light 
 
( 25 ) 
 
 of nature can dire6l the finner to build his 
 hopes of the divine favour. It is, at leafl, 
 but a faint probability, a prefumptive 
 hope, that in compafTion to his weaknefs, 
 God may be pleafed to pardon his tranf- 
 grefTions, and to accept of his fervices im- 
 perfe6l and unv^^orthy as they have been. 
 But this plea, it is evident, may be urged, 
 and thefe hopes be aflumed, by every of- 
 fender, however enormous, agaiaft every 
 law both human and divine, which is at 
 once to annihilate all dill:in(5lion between 
 right and wrong, virtue and vice. If the 
 extent of the divine favour is to be mea- 
 fured by the unbounded hopes of the iin- 
 ncr, then how are the perfecflions of Dei- 
 ty, and the equity of his moral govern- 
 ment to be vindicated ? How is a difcri- 
 minacion to be made between the righte- 
 ous and the wicked, " between thofe who 
 ferve God and thofe who Icrve him not?" 
 Both reafon and confcicnce concur in 
 condemning the iinners' claim to the mer- 
 
 D 
 
( 26 ) 
 
 cy of God : A claim fuggefted by aii- 
 dacious hope, and founded upon princi- 
 ples too fallible, to afford fuch fecurity, 
 as can bring peace to a mind anxious a- 
 bout futurity, and apprehenfive of juft 
 i-etribution. 
 
 Now, if this fandy foundation be the 
 only one upon which the religion of na- 
 ture fupports the hopes of her votaries, let 
 us enquire, whether the wifhes of the hu- 
 man heart be placed upon firmer ground, 
 by the gofpel itfelf, according to a late 
 fajhionable fyjlem, A fyftem, of which the 
 chief objedl is to exclude from revela- 
 tion the atonement of Chrift, that grand 
 and capital dodlrine, which hitherto, in 
 the general fenfe of the church, was not 
 only its charadleriflical dillinction, but 
 the great pillar on which all its other parts 
 depend. To the abettors of this fyftem, 
 the do(5lrine of falvation by the crofs, in- 
 dead of the wifdom of God, appears, as 
 much as ever it did to the ancient Jews 
 
( 27 ) 
 
 3.nd Greeks, " a Jiumbliug block and foolljlo' 
 *' nefsr 
 
 To enter into the field of controverfy 
 upon this fubje(fl belongs not to my de- 
 sign : Nor is it necejTary : Ability and 
 learning and eloquence have been em- 
 ployed in its defence, at lead in an equal 
 meafure to any which have been oppofed 
 to it, and with this fingular advantage, 
 that in the plain fenfe and common ac- 
 ceptation of words, the uniform language 
 of fcripture is decidedly in its favour. So 
 much, indeed, is this the cafe, that great 
 ingenuity and fkill in criticifm alone can 
 torturq them into a different meaning. 
 " That Chrifl fuffered and died as an a- 
 *' tonement for the fins of mankind," fays 
 a late polite and ingenious lay- writer *, 
 *' is a dodrine fo ftrongly and fo con- 
 " flantly enforced, through every part of 
 " the New Teflament, that whoever will 
 " ferioufly perufe thefe writings, and de- 
 
 Dij 
 
 * Soame Jenyns. 
 
( 28 ) 
 
 *' ny that it is there, may with as mucli 
 " reafon and truth, after reading the- 
 *' works of Thiicydides and Livy afTert, 
 " that in them no mention is made of 
 *' any fadls relative to the hiflories o^ 
 *' Greece and Rome.", 
 
 In behalf of this mod interefting doc- 
 trine, I would appeal, not merely to found 
 criticifm and fair interpretation of fcrip- 
 ture ; I wifii it to be tried not by the un- 
 derflanding and the reafoning powers of 
 the mind only, but alfo by the feelings 
 of the heart, and particularly by the con^ 
 fcience of a finner awakened to a fenfe of 
 guilt, and alarmed by the thoughts of a 
 
 judgment to come Defcribe to a man 
 
 of refle(5lion, in that ftate of mind, the 
 plan of the gofpel when ftripped of this 
 do(51rine ; tell him of the fublimity of its 
 dodlrines, the purity and excellence of its 
 precepts, and the awfulnefs of its fanc- 
 tions ; delineate to him the unexampled 
 iAnocence arid beneficence of the life , o^ 
 
( ^9 ) 
 
 its blcfled Author, the aftonirning mag-, 
 naiiimity and fortitvide of his death, not 
 as a facrificc for ftn, but as a tcJUmony 
 to the truth of his doctrine and niijjlon : 
 Explain to him, if he will liflen to you, 
 the laboured and ingenious criticifms by 
 which you remove the common accepta- 
 tion of words, and prove that the do6lrine 
 of the atonement has no place in the fa?- 
 cred page. But what, may not the a- 
 larmed Iinner juftly reply, does all this 
 contribute to the eafe and comfort of my 
 troubled mind ? The puritj and extent- 
 pf the fyftem of duty enjoined by the go- 
 fpel, its dreadful fancflions, and the fub- 
 lime character of its Author as an exam- 
 ple, only tend to exhibit in more glaring 
 colours, the imperfecftion of my obedi- 
 ence, the greatnefs of my fins, my juft 
 defert of puniihment, and my total inca- 
 pacity of making any fatisfa6lion to di- 
 vine juftice. Toil tell me, that even up- 
 oa yc'ir plan, the gofpel contains th;* 
 
( 3° ) 
 
 ftrongeO: afTurances of mercy and pardon 
 to the fincerely penitent. But does not 
 t!ie fame gofpel, in folemn terms, declare 
 ** That God is of purer eyes than to be- 
 ** hold iniquity, that he will not acquit 
 ** the guilty ; that the unrighteous fhall 
 " not inherit the kingdom of God ; that 
 ** he will render to every man according 
 ^ to his deeds, indignation and wrath, 
 ^ tribulation and anguifli upon every 
 " foul of man that doth evil." Some 
 way there muft be, if the gofpel be in^ 
 ^e^^d. from God, of reconciling thofe con^ 
 tradidiory alfertions. Your hypothelis 
 do^s it not. From it I derive no folid 
 iatisfadiion to my mind. In it I perceive 
 no foundation upon which I can build 
 my hopes of pardon and acceptance with 
 God in any coniiftency with his truth 
 and juflice, with the harmony of his per- 
 feclions, and the equity of his govern- 
 ment. On the contrary, by pointing out 
 the purity and extent of the divine coni- 
 
( 31 ) 
 
 inandinents,rand the terrible punifhmenis 
 prepared for tranfgreflbrs, it only ferves 
 to render my condition more hopelefs and 
 defperate. 
 
 To a perfon in this ftate of mind, what 
 founds can be fo cheering, fo full of con- 
 folation and peace, as thofe which con- 
 vey the true and diftinguifhing dotlrine 
 of the gofpel ? " God fo loved the world, 
 " that he gave his only begotten Son, 
 *' that whofoever believeth on him fliould 
 " not perifh, but have everlalling life — - 
 " Herein is love, not that we loved God, 
 " but that he loved us, and fent his Son 
 " to be the propitiation for our fins, 
 " There is now therefore no condem- 
 " nation to them that are in Chrift Je- 
 " fus. It is God that jullifieth, and who 
 " can condemn ?" 
 
 Where was there ever a dodlrine or an 
 idea conceived or propofed, fo wonderful- 
 ly calculated to give eafe to the foul 
 ■trembling under a confcioufnefs of guik. 
 
( 3^ ) 
 
 as that which is contained in thefe, an<l 
 a thoufand other pafTages equally expUcit? 
 Are the difficulties, wliich the pride of hu- 
 man reafon fuggeilis, unfurmountable ob- 
 ilacles to the reception of this dodlrine ? 
 Shall we renounce, vt'ith difdainj that par- 
 don of fin and that gift of eternal life, 
 which nature mofl vehemently folicits, 
 becaufe offered not in the way which our 
 fhallow underflandings propofe, but in 
 that which infinite wifdom hath chofen, 
 as the purchafe of the obedience and 
 death of the Son of God ? 
 
 In the page or field of controverfy, in thi 
 warmth of angry theological debate, and 
 eager contefl for vidlory, objedlions may 
 appear formidable. But what will be their 
 afpedl to the Chriilian, in his hours of re- 
 tirement and ferious reflection, when me- 
 ditating upon his own character and de- 
 fert, and looking forward to his appear- 
 ance in the prefence of his Maker ? Then, 
 be affured, thefe mountains created by 
 
( 33 ) 
 
 {)ride and contention will dwindle away 
 into nothing, and the mind will return to 
 fentiments more becoming its condition. 
 In thefe feafons, the queftions which ap- 
 pear of chief importance are not, in what 
 niyflefies and difficulties is this dod:rine 
 involved, but, are the faiptures the word of 
 God? and is this dodrine of the atonement 
 there plainly affcrted and maintained? 
 
 Myfterioufnefs undoubtedly attends it, 
 but myfteries inexplicable occur in eve- 
 ry fadl which we obferve in the natural 
 world, and why fnould we preftime to 
 think that in a plan fo grand and fub- 
 lime as that of the recovery of a loll and 
 perifliing world, there fliould not be cir- 
 cumftanccs, which our very limited un- 
 derftandings cannot explain. 
 
 If fatislied that it is the dotlrinc of the 
 word of God, the difficulties attending it, 
 v/ill be eafily overcome ; and with a grate- 
 ful iny proportioned to its value, the hum- 
 
 1^ 
 
( 34 ) 
 ble Chriftian will accept of it " as the un^ 
 ''^ fpeakahk gift of GocT^ for falvation. 
 
 One reitiark, which the ferious con- 
 templation of this fubje(5t fuggefls, is of 
 fuch importance as to deferve your parti- 
 cular attention 5 it is this : That the idea 
 of God reconcihng a loft and guilty world 
 to himfelf through the medium of the o^ 
 bedience and death of his own Son, is in 
 itfelf fo fublime and fo aftonifl^iing, fo far 
 removed from every thing which ever 
 had, or could be fuppofed to have enter- 
 ed into the human mind, that this of it- 
 felf affords a ftrong prefumption, that 
 from human invention it never originat- 
 ed. But now that it is revealed from 
 God, what truth can bring along with it 
 fuch peace and fecurity to the heart ? In 
 the obedience and expiatory facrifice of 
 the Son of God, the true Chriftian fees 
 not only all ground of fear removed, but 
 the moft fublime and fatisfying profpe(5ls 
 opened to his viev/, he beholds all th^ 
 
( 35 ) 
 
 perfev^llons of the divinity harmoiiioiifly 
 engaged in his behalf, and the God of 
 nature bearing to him the relation of a 
 Father, in the nioft endearing fenfe of that 
 expreflion. Full of this idea the Chrifli- 
 an rifes to an elevation of mind and cha- 
 ra(5ler, of which otherwife human nature 
 is incapable. Secured in the divine favour 
 and protection, he feels himfelf excited 
 to every thing great and noble in fenti- 
 ment and adlion ; and refting upon this 
 foundation, he calmly but cheerfully looks 
 forward to that folemn day which w^ill dif- 
 folve his connexion with the world, and 
 admit him into the immediate prefence 
 a.nd enjoyment of his God. 
 
 If fuch are the happy effecfls of this 
 docflrine, and fuch the confolation, which, 
 in circumftances the mofl affecling, it 
 brings to the human mind ; if in paifages, 
 without number of the fcriptures, it is 
 moll exprefsly aflerted; nay, if it be in- 
 deed, what it appears to be, the cardinal 
 
 Eij 
 
( 36 ) 
 
 point upon which the whole fcheme of 
 revelation turns ; and, finally, if it not 
 only gives no encouragement to relaxa- 
 tion of morals, but brings along v/ith it, 
 the flrongeH: and moft afFedling motives 
 to holinefs and purity of heart and life ; 
 then, upon what principles can we ac- 
 count for that zeal, which, with indefa- 
 tigable perfeverance labours to banilli it 
 from the flandards of our faith ? Let it's 
 enemies prove that it is productive of any 
 mifchievous confequences either to focie- 
 ty or to the individual, and we will ex-^ 
 Cufe their hoflile attempts. On this point 
 we appeal in its behalf to fadl and experi- 
 ence. Look around you in life, my bre^ 
 thren, and fay from your own obfervation, 
 whether they who fincerely believe and 
 confide in the merits of the Saviour for 
 acceptance with God, are lefs peaceable, 
 induftrious, and ufeful than others, as 
 members of civil fociety, — lefs faithful, 
 laborious and refpeded as miniflers of re^ 
 
( 37 ) 
 ligion, — lefs confcientious and upright m 
 bufmefs, _lefs attentive and afFedlionate 
 in fulfilling the various duties of focial 
 and domeflic life ? You cannot fay fo ; 
 you know that the very reverfe is the 
 truth. It is impofTible in the nature of 
 things, but that it muil be fo, for the 
 faith of this dodlrine neceflarily leads to 
 the hatred of fin, the love and pradice of 
 hohnefs. " The grace of God, that bring- 
 " eth falvation, hath appeared to all men; 
 *' teaching us, that denying ungodlinefs, 
 " and M^orldly lufts, we fliould live fo- 
 *' berly, righteoufly and godly in a pre- 
 " fent world *, 
 
 * Tit. ii. 1 1. 12. See alfo Rom. vi. i. Ja. ii. 14, tsfc-. 
 A multitude of other pafiages to the fame purpofe oc- 
 curs in the New Teftament- Indeed, one great ob- 
 jea of the apoftle Paul, in all his epiftles, is to fliew 
 the neceiTary and infeparable connexion between the 
 fmcere belief of this doctrine, and holinefs of heart 
 and life. 
 
( 38 ) 
 
 If this is the truth as feen in {aS: and 
 obfervation, where is the benevolence or 
 humanity of attempting to deftroy the 
 peace and darken the profpedls of thou- 
 Iknds of ferious and good minds, found- 
 ed upon this do{5lrine ? Could we fup- 
 pofe it even a dream, a mere phantom of 
 the imagination, yet if it is not only 
 harmlefs but beneficial, is there not cru- 
 €;Ity in diflurbing it, and in endeavouring 
 to awaken the mind from its fancied fecu- 
 rity, to fear and doubt and perplexity? — 
 Bat let us not be too much alarmed ; 
 ^here is no room to apprehend that thefe 
 efforts, however zealoully conducted, fliall 
 operate to any great extent, or that the 
 novv^ fafliionable hypothefis fliall be of 
 feng duration. Like many other opinions, 
 which have had their fucceflive days of 
 triumph in the Chriflian world, it will 
 vanifh and be fprgotten ; other fyflems^ 
 of error may follow, and for a time ob^^ 
 iain, but truth is powerful and fliall 
 
( 39 ) 
 
 at length prevail. When wearied Vv*ith 
 controverfy and mifreprefcntation, men 
 will have recourfe to the fcriptures in 
 their plain and obvious meaning, as the 
 only flandard of faith, and as containing 
 the only fyftem of principles which is a- 
 dapted to the ftate and circumftances of 
 fallen and guilty man. Human pride will 
 bend fubmiffive before the oracles of di- 
 vine wifdom, and the do(5lrine of falva- 
 tion, by the crofs of Chrift, be received 
 with joy as the wifdom and the power of 
 God, 
 
 The third propoiition mentioned in or- 
 der to fhew the peculiar aptitude of the 
 gofpel difpenfation to the ftate and cir^ 
 Cumftances of man is, That he has a con- 
 fcioufnefs of moral obligation, and ideas 
 of moral excellence, which experience tells 
 him he never can by his own efforts fulnl 
 and realize. 
 
I 40 
 
 That irian cannot attain to that excel- 
 lence of character, of which his mind na- 
 turally forms the idea, is evident from 
 facfl and univerfal experience. The mo- 
 ral and religious fyftems of men, guided 
 by the light of nature alone, we have al- 
 ready confidered, and found them to be 
 moft defective and erroneous. The mo- 
 ral feelings of men, it is true, muft cor- 
 tefpond v\^ith their ideas of duty, and 
 moral obligation. Yet limited and im- 
 perfe(5l as were thofe of the ancients, we 
 find many of the befl and wife ft among 
 them, acknowledging the infufhciency of 
 their own powers, and the abfolute ne- 
 cefTity of divine afliflance, to carry them 
 to the heights of even that virtue, of 
 which they had formed the conception. 
 Nay, it is well knov/n to have been a 
 maxim univerfally received even among 
 the Heathens, that Vv^ithout the ajjiatiis^ or 
 infpiration of the Divinity, nothing great 
 in fentiment or action was ever attained 
 
( 41 ) 
 by man *. Such is the natural inftuidlive 
 fenfe of the human mind, of its own 
 weaknefs and conftant dependence upon 
 God ! But if fuch were the conviaions 
 of men whofe ideas of moral obligation 
 were fo exceedingly imperfect, what muft 
 be thofe, which the knowledge of the 
 grand and perfed fyftem of duty enjoin- 
 ed by the gofpel cannot but excite ? A fyf- 
 tem which, taking its rife from God, in- 
 cludes every relation in which man is pla- 
 ced, and every duty which thefe relations 
 infer, which extends even to the regulation 
 of the fecret movements of the heart ? 
 
 * Hymn ofCleanthes^ tranjlated by Gilbert IVeJly Efq, 
 For nor in earth, nor earth-en(;ircling floods, 
 Nor yon ethereal pole, the feat of gods. 
 Is ought perform'd without thy aid divine •, 
 Strength, wifdom, virtue, mighty Jove, are thine. 
 
 West's Works, Vol. II. p. 48- 
 
 The heroes of Homer and Virgil, it is well known, 
 accompliHied almoft nothing without the interpofition 
 pf fome deity. 
 
 F 
 
( 4J ) 
 
 Upon taking a ferious view of thisi 
 great plan of duty, and then comparing 
 it with his own powers and capacities, 
 who will prefume to fay that he is able to 
 realize it in practice ? Folly alone can give 
 birth to fo abfurd and prefumptuous an 
 cxpe(5lation. Every man of candour will 
 feel and acknowledge the declaration of 
 the apoflle Paul, to be far more confer 
 nant tq his own experience. I fee a law in 
 my members^ ivarrlng againjl the law of my 
 iiihid, and bringing me into captivity to the laiv 
 cffui; fo that W'e:-/ 1 would do good evil is pre- 
 fcnt with w7^*o " My reafpr^, {t^^ and ap-= 
 " proves that which is good, and v/hich 
 " the gofpel hath enjoined, but I feel its 
 " authority infinitely too weak to enforce 
 " its own decifions. Paillpn and tempta- 
 " tion lead me aflray, and I yield obedii- 
 "^ ence to the law of fm, at the very time 
 " that my confcienoe didates unlimited 
 " compliance with the law of God. In op-? 
 
 ^ Rom. vU- 23. 
 
( 43 ) 
 
 " pofition to my better judgment I reject 
 " my lawful Sovereign, and obey a ty- 
 " rant and £in ufurper. Though an ad- 
 " mirer of vu-tue, I am a pitiful Have to 
 " vice, and iri every ftep of my condudl^ 
 " my own mind witnefleth againft me. 
 " Wretched man that I am, who, or what 
 " can deliver me from fo deplorable a fi- 
 " tuation ?'* Nothing, fays the voice of 
 his experience, nothing fay the convic- 
 tions of his underilanding, bur the power 
 of that God, who originally gave liinx 
 exillerice* 
 
 But however much the na.tural feelings 
 of its neeefTity may didlate a w'iili for fuch 
 aid, where^ fave in the gofpel of Chrift, 
 is there a ihadow of hope, far iefs fecuri- 
 ty, that it will be afforded ? With what 
 infinite fadsfaclion then, will the ferious 
 mind liflen to the gracious declarations 
 of the Son of God : " That he was mani^ 
 *' fefted not merely to expiate the guilt of 
 '^'^ fin, but to deftroy its dominion in the 
 
 Fij 
 
( 44 ) 
 
 ^' foul ; not only to procure for man a 
 " title to the divine favour, but to qua-» 
 *^ lify him for its enjoyment. He came 
 " to deftroy the work of the devil" — to 
 undo the unhappy effecls of man's origi- 
 nal apoftacy; to remove that depravity of 
 nature which it introduced ; to reflore to 
 the foul thofe moral excellencies which 
 conflituted the image of its Maker ; and 
 to train up the man, in a progreflive 
 courfe of improving virtue, into a fitnefs 
 for admiilion into a flate of felicity con- 
 genial to his rational and moral capaci- 
 ties. 
 
 The immediate agent, by whom thefe 
 grand and noble objedls are accompliih- 
 ed, we are taught by the gofpel, is the 
 third of the facred Three, who bear re- 
 cord in heaven ; that blefTed Spirit of 
 grace, whom, under the charadler of the 
 Comforter, Chrift promifed to fupply the 
 want of his perfonal prefence, to co-nvhice 
 ^f fin^ of righteotifnefs and judgment ^^ and 
 
( 45 ) 
 
 to lead men to the knowledge, love, and 
 obedience of the truth. It is the general 
 afTertion of our Lord, that " except a man 
 " be born of the Spirit, he cannot enter 
 " into the kingdom of God *." It is by 
 the fecret but efFecbual energy of this di- 
 vine Agent, that an entire change is pro- 
 duced upon the natural difpoiition, and 
 a new character formed, of which the 
 particular features are exhibited in th.^ 
 gofpel, and often defcribed by its mini- 
 iters in the detail. 
 
 In general, the great work of the 
 Spirit is, to enlighten the underftand- 
 ing to difcern, and incline the will 
 to confent to the pure and fpiritual fyf- 
 tem of the gofpel: To give, to the dc- 
 cifions of the judgm.ent, authority and 
 force, and to fubject the affeclions and 
 paiTions to its controul : To preferve th;: 
 powers of the mind in their due rank and 
 fubordination, and dired them into th^ 
 
 * John iii. 5. 
 
( 4^ ) 
 
 pi^oper channel for promoting the great 
 
 ends for which they were given, the* 
 
 glory of God, and the eternal liappinefs of 
 the foul. For this purpofe we are taught, 
 that Vvdicn received into our hearts, hd 
 purifies them and renders them a fit ha- 
 bitation for himfelf ; he afTifts our dehre^ 
 and endeavours after religious improve- 
 ment, and renders efFedlual, for aecom- 
 plifliing the ends of their inftitution, all 
 the ordinances of the gofpel. He efla- 
 bliilies our minds in the true knowledge 
 and faith of divine truth ; gives purity to 
 our defu'es, fpirituality to our affeclions, 
 and fervour to our devotion. He affords 
 direclion in difficulties, comfort in aliiic- 
 tion, defence againil temptation : He gives 
 to the confcience, that peace of God which 
 pafTcth underflanding ; and which even 
 the terrors of death cannot iliake. His o- 
 >3erations arc filent and inviiible, yet their 
 effecSls upon the mind and character af^ 
 ford certain evidence of their exiilencej 
 
( 47 ) 
 and what thefe are the fcriptures have told 
 VIS, " love, joy, peace, gentlcnefs, meeknef?!, 
 goodnefs," and in a word, all the mild and 
 amiable virtues w^hich reftore in man the 
 likenefs of his Maker, and form the Chri* 
 ftian to the life of heaven even while on 
 earth. 
 
 This do^rine has been objedlcd to, on 
 account of its myftcrious and inexplicable 
 nature. And in fo far as regards the mmi-- 
 7ier of the Spirit's operations upon the hu- 
 man mind, it is admitted to be inexplica- 
 ble. This is allowed by our Saviour him* 
 felf in his converfation wath Nicodemus *. 
 But the difficulty of accounting for a fatft, 
 is no argument againftits aclual exiflencc; 
 otherwife there is not one facl in the na- 
 tural world w'hich might not be difputcd. 
 We often know that there does exift a con- 
 nexion between caufcs and their cffccfls, 
 when the nature and manner of that con- 
 |iexion, and the reafon why the one ihould 
 
 • John ili. 8. 
 
( 4« ) 
 
 immediately follow the other we cannot 
 explain. We know airurediy that in man^ 
 mind acls upon body, but how it does fo, 
 reafon and philofbphy will fcarcely pretend 
 ta tell us. If this fa.0: then, however dark 
 and inexplicable, muft be admitted, why 
 ihouid it be tl^ought incredible, that mind 
 fliould acl upon, mind? — And prefumptu- 
 oufly to deny, that, that almighty Spirit 
 who gave exiftence to all other beings cor- 
 poreal and incorporeal, who upholds and 
 governs, who actuates and pervades the 
 whole, cannot and does not acft upon tliQ 
 human foul, is as little conformable to the 
 expeclatious of nature and the didlates of 
 found philofophy, as it is to the conftant 
 uniform language of fcripture. 
 
 It is farther objected, that this do^rine 
 is inconfiilent with the freedom of hu- 
 man agency: But, from confidering the 
 nature and objedls of the operations of the 
 Spirit, the very reverfe appears to be the 
 truth. He neither deprives the foul of a- 
 
( 49 ) 
 
 ny of its natural faculties, nor fuperfedes 
 the ufe of them. He only preferves them 
 in their jufl fubordination, and gives to 
 the underftanding that authority and de- 
 cifion, which are neccflary to its purfu- 
 ing with freedom and effect, its pro- 
 per objects. " If be worketh in us," it 
 is only that " we may both will and 
 " do that which is well-plealing to God," 
 and conducive to our own higheft and 
 bed interefl. And who is fo free as 
 be who feels himfelf emancipated from 
 the fliameful bondage of fin, and who 
 Jias voluntarily engaged in the fervice of 
 his Maker. " The man whom the Son of 
 " God hath made free, mufl be free in- 
 " deed." 
 
 Impious wits and libertines have pre- 
 fumed to exhibit this do6lrine of the in- 
 fluences of the Spirit, in forms as ridicu- 
 lous as they are profane. Bvit by fuch 
 attempts, they only expofe the depravity 
 of their own hearts, their ignorance of 
 
 G 
 
( 50 ) 
 
 human nature, and their iliocking ingror 
 titude to God, for thefe much needed in- 
 terpoiitions of his grace. 
 
 And now, let me alk, what there is, in 
 the (late and circumftances of man, which 
 can vindicate the rejection of this moft 
 precious dodlrine ? Who can reilecft up- 
 on the hiftory of ages that are paft, or 
 look around him into real life at prefent, 
 and obferve the general prevalence of de- 
 pravity and vice among mankind, toge- 
 ther with the abfolute inefhciency of or- 
 dinary teachers for their reformation, and 
 not acknowledge the necelTity of another 
 and more powerful in{lru<5lor ? Or, who 
 can attend to his own experience of the 
 extreme imbecility of his nature, as well 
 as the infenfibility and averfenefs of his 
 mind to fpiritual and divine things, and 
 not confefs his entire dependence upon 
 the grace of God, rejoice in the oiFers of 
 it made in the gofpel, and vv^ith earnefl- 
 iiefs, proportioned to the valuq of the 
 
( 5' ) 
 
 gift, implore that it may be vouchfafed ^ 
 to him ? As to the -real Chrijlian^ he needs 
 no other argument than his own experi^ 
 ence. By the happy efFcds which he 
 hath produced upon his heart and Ufe, 
 the Spirit of God witnejfcth to his fpirit, the 
 certainty of his divine influences. They 
 are the foundation of his confidence, the 
 fource of his comfort and hope. Con*- 
 duded by this infallible guide, he trufls 
 to be enabled to advance in thofe paths of 
 pleafantnefs and peace, which lead to the 
 manfions of eternal joy. 
 
 Thus, from the efFedual aid which it af- 
 fords, we difcover, how admirablyj in this 
 refpecEl alfo, the gofpel is adapted to the cir- 
 cumftances and necefTities of human nature. 
 
 The fourth proportion mentioned in 
 order to fhew the aptitude of the. gofpel 
 to the flate and circumftances of man is, 
 That he is fabjecfted to many unavoidable 
 evils, for which, upon the principles of 
 
 Gij 
 
( 5^ ) 
 reafbn, he can neither account, nor dif- 
 cover any important good purpofe to 
 which they tend. 
 
 In no point of view, perhaps, does the 
 gofpel wear a more pleafing afpedl, or ap^ 
 pear more exquifitely fuited to the necef- 
 fities of our nature, and in none does it 
 manifefl a more glorious fuperiority over 
 all the fyftems of reafon and philofophy, 
 than in the confolations which it affords 
 to the affli£led mind. Comfort in afflic- 
 tion was one great obje<5l of ancient phi- 
 lofophy, to the attainment of which its 
 moil ftrenuous efforts were diredled ; but 
 never did it more completely fail, or ap- 
 pear with a more mortifying inferiority. 
 It was impoffible that in this- attempt it 
 could fucceed. While ignorant of the 
 true caufe and origin of evil, while a 
 flranger to the belief of a particular over- 
 ruling Providence, but efpecially while 
 deflitute of all rational and well-founded 
 hopes in the rewards of futurity, upon 
 
( 53 ) 
 
 what bafis could philofophy rear a folid 
 fabric of comfort ? Its boafled confola- 
 tions, accordingly, wc find to be little 
 better, than either unmeaning declama- 
 tion, or the arrogant dicflates of a pride 
 that was never made for man. Bring 
 them to the tefl of real life and experi- 
 ence, and their emptinefs will immedi- 
 ately appear. Try the influence of any, 
 or all of them united, to bring comfort 
 to a man labouring under the complicat- 
 ed ills of pain, poverty, and grief; and 
 judge by the eifedl. Tell him with one 
 fe6l of philofophers, that thefe evils un- 
 der which he groans, are in fa6l no evils^ 
 and are fovinded only in imagination ; 
 that in every fituation of human life, 
 however wretched and miferable in ap- 
 pearance, and however deftitute of hope 
 in a future ftate, ftill to the wife and good 
 man, virtue is its own fuiEcient reward : 
 Or, with another fed, tell him that the 
 evils of life are mevclyforfuilousy the effet^i 
 
{ 54 ) 
 
 bf blind chance, or of an undiftingmllitng 
 iiTefiftible fate, and that to repine is vain ; 
 can you think that afTertions hke thefe 
 will foothe the anguifli of an affli6led 
 mind, will not every fufferer to whom 
 they are addreffed, regard them rather aS 
 infults added to his mifery ? 
 
 Compare^ with thefe fuggeftions of 
 philofophy, the , clear and confiflent, the 
 ^rand and fnblime confolations of the 
 gofpel ; and upon the iffue even of that 
 Gomparifon, I fhould willingly reft the 
 argument for the truth and divine Origi- 
 nal of our holy religion. In the difco- 
 veries of Chrift and his apoftles, what is 
 there wanting, which the underftanding 
 requires, or the heart of man feels to be 
 neceffary for his comfort under affliclion ? 
 In the gofpel, We are taught to believe, 
 that not by general laws originally efta- 
 bliflied, but by a particular watchful ad- 
 miniftration, the Almighty prefides over' 
 the univerfe j — that the care of this Pro- 
 
( ss ) 
 
 vidence extends not to great and import-^ 
 ant events alone, the intercft of nations, 
 or the rife and f dl of dates, but to every 
 the minutcic concern of the meaneil in- 
 dividual, that all being his creatures, are 
 
 the objcdis of his care, and that the infi- 
 nitude of their number produces no anxi- 
 ety or confufion in the divine under- 
 (landing. " Not a fparrow can fall to 
 " the ground without his knowledge, and 
 " even the hairs upon our hsad are all 
 " numbered by him *." 
 
 In the diredlion of human aftliirs ac- 
 cording to our Saviour's doctrine, no- 
 thing is fortuitous, or contingent, and 
 nothing left to the uncontroulcd opera- 
 tion of fecond caufes. Means and their 
 effedls as well in the moral, as natural 
 world are in the hands of the fovereign 
 Ruler of the univcrfc, and arranged by 
 him, in that precife manner, which infi- 
 nite Wifdom knows to be bed calculated 
 
 * Mattli. X. 29. 
 
( S6 ) 
 for promoting his own glory, and the ge-. 
 neral good of his intelligent offspring. 
 
 Thefe are truths, as fublime as they are 
 important, to which the imderftanding 
 gives its willing afTent, and on which it 
 repofes with confidence ai;d fecurity. But 
 our blefTed Saviour hath given a fiill more 
 pkafing view^ of divine Providence, and, 
 a yet more comfortable diredlion to the 
 faith of his difciples. He taught them to 
 regard God as bearing to them the moft 
 amiable and moft endearing characler in 
 which he was ever reprefented to man, 
 even that of a Father tender and aifedli- 
 onate, taking a particular concern in all 
 that regards them, ordering every circum- 
 flance in their lot, and caufing even thofe 
 difpenfations of his Providence, which to 
 them may appear mofl dark, or which 
 they may feel mofl diflrefsful, effedlual- 
 ly to promote their higheft moral im- 
 provement. " Let not your hearts be 
 ^' troubled," faid he to his immediate 
 
( S7 ) 
 
 clifciples in the hour of their forrow, and 
 the fame exhortation he is to be confider- 
 ed as addrefhng to his faithful followers in 
 all ages, " ye believe in God, believe alfo 
 " in me." Read, my brethren, the confo- 
 latory difcourfe of which thefe words are 
 the introduclion, attend to the various fub- 
 lime fources of comfort which are therein 
 opened up, and by thefe fpecimens judge 
 of the confolations which the gofpel at 
 large holds forth to the diftreffed. What 
 fimplicity, what majefty, what authority 
 is confpicuous in every fentence of that 
 admirable difcourfe ! Who that is capa- 
 ble of relifliing the beautiful and pathe- 
 tic, or of admiring the grand and fub- 
 lime can perufe it, in a ferious and efpe- 
 cially in an afflidled hour, without feel- 
 ing the moil: lively emotions of hope and 
 j^y excited within him ? Even tafte and 
 fenfibility, ab(lrad:ing from devotion, 
 muft lead to the acknowledgment, that 
 this difcourfe could have proceeded from 
 
 H 
 
{ 58 ) 
 iione other, than one who intimately 
 knows the recefles of the human heart, 
 and is able to atFord a remedy to its 
 heaviefl woes ? 
 
 To fpecify, in the detail, the various 
 fources of confolation which the gofpel 
 exhibits to the Chriflian mourner, would 
 require a feparate difcourfe, or rather a 
 feries of difcourfes. The gofpel indeed, 
 to every one who ferioufly examines its 
 nature and tendency, will appear to be 
 what its nanae imports ; good news^ tidings 
 of great joy to all people ; but it is in an 
 efpecial manner addreifed to the poor, the 
 perfecuted, the afflicted; and to give them 
 confolation and hope, is one of its prima- 
 ry obje6ls. The ofEce affigned to its di- 
 vine Author in ancient prophetic defcrip- 
 tion of his characfler, and which he both 
 applied to himfelf, and literally fulfilled, 
 was " to preach good tidings to the meek, 
 ^^ — to bind up the broken in heart, — to 
 
{ 59 ) 
 
 " comfort all that mourn *." " Come 
 " unto me all ye that labour and are hea- 
 *' vy laden, and I will give you reft f," 
 was his own kind and gracious invita- 
 tion. And where can the tofTed, per- 
 plexed, agitated foul find peace, but in 
 the bleifed aflylum which he hath opened 
 in the gofpel. 
 
 For the greatefl miferies to which hu- 
 man nature is fabjedled, — ignorance, con- 
 fcious guilt, and moral imbecility, we have al- 
 ready feen the noble and elFecftual reme- 
 dies which it hath provided. And as to 
 affliclion arifing from other caufes, none 
 can be fo fevere and opprefTive, as that a 
 balance, and more than a balance to them 
 is not afforded, by the docflrines, the pro- 
 mifes, and fublime profpedls of the gofpel. 
 
 To go through the melancholy cata- 
 logue of human ills is needlefs ; however 
 varied and however aggravated, in the 
 confolations of the gofpel a remedy is to 
 
 * If. hd. I. nnd Luke Iv. i6. ^c. f Matth. xi. 28. 
 
 Hij 
 
( 60 ) 
 
 be found for them all. Of tliefe conibla- 
 
 tioiis this is the fum Their father in 
 
 heaven fends trials and afflictions to his 
 people, becaufe he loves them : He pro- 
 portions the degree of their fufferings to 
 what he knows to be neceflary in ojder 
 to carry forward their fpiritual improve- 
 ment : He encourages them to fpread 
 their wants before him, and enjoy the ex- 
 quifite fatisfaflion of pouring out their 
 complaints into his compaiTionate bofom : 
 He affords the fupporting aids of his 
 grace, in a meafure correfponding to the 
 feverity of their trials, and he gives them 
 affurance, that, however afflidtive and di- 
 Itreding, " they ihall yet work out for 
 " them a far more exceeding, even an e- 
 " ternal weight of glory." 
 
 How cold and comfortlefs arc the re- 
 fined confolations of philofophy, in com- 
 parifon of thefe noble and refrefliing 
 truths ? It is impoilible not to feel for 
 thofe who had no better to produce. 
 
( 6I ) 
 
 When we fee labour, ingenuity, and elo- 
 quence employed, by the great mailers of 
 reafoning in ancient times, upon this fub- 
 je6l ; when we behold them turning on 
 every fide for comfort, and laying hold 
 of every circumflance which reafon could 
 fuggeft to reconcile tjiem to the evils of 
 life ; and the refult of their painful re- 
 fearch to be only darknefs, gloom, and 
 uncertainty ; we can fcarcely help drop- 
 ping a tear of pity over their unhappy fi- 
 tuation. But, " BlefTed are our eyes, for 
 " they fee, and our ears, for they hear" 
 what thefe great and wife men with tran- 
 fport would have feen and heard, but 
 were not fo highly favoured. 
 
 " Bleifed art thou, O fincere believer 
 " in the gofpel, for to thee, thy Savioiu' 
 " hath revealed all that is neceffary to 
 " reconcile thee to thy lot, however pain- 
 " ful and diftrefling. Much thy heaven- 
 " ly father may call thee to fufler, in the 
 " courfe of his righteous adminiflration ; 
 
( 62 ) 
 
 thy wprldly pofTefTions may take wings', 
 and leave thee poor indeed ; thy good 
 name may be wrefhed from thee by envy 
 and mifreprefentation ; thy friends may 
 prove cold and treacherous, and death 
 may tear from thee, thofe on whom 
 thy heart leaned with fondeft affec- 
 tion ; but flill if thou retaineft thy con- 
 fidence in the dodxrines and promifes 
 of thy Lord, thou canft never be be- 
 reaved of comfort.*' Thefe are confo- 
 Jarions addreffed not to reafon and the 
 pure intelledl alone, but to the flrongefl 
 aJufecftions of the heart. Supported by 
 thefe, feelings m.ay be oppofed to feelings; 
 fuch as are grateful and cheering, to 
 
 thofe that are difmal and fad. The view 
 
 of futurity, in an efpecial manner, un- 
 folded by the gofpel, like the fun burn- 
 ing from behind a dark cloud, will dif- 
 fipate the gloom, and enliven the darkeft 
 fcenes of life. It will fmoothe the pillow 
 of a fick-bed, and reconcile the mind e- 
 
( 63 ) 
 
 yen to poverty and pain. It will bring 
 compofure to the Chriftian when bidding 
 a laft farewell to a dear departing friend ; 
 nay amidft the laft pangs of the diiTolving 
 frame, it will fuftain his fainting fpirit. 
 
 And this naturally introduces the laft 
 propofition ftated in order to prove the 
 fitnefs of the gofpel to remedy the defects 
 of nature, viz. That reafon unaided, af- 
 fords no fixed principles upon which the 
 belief of immortality can be eftablillied. 
 
 There is unqueftionably in the human 
 mind, a capacity of extending its views 
 beyond a prefent world, and the exercife 
 of this faculty is ever accompanied with 
 fecret prefages and hopes of future exift- 
 ence. Anxious wiflies and foreboding 
 fears, it is true, do of themfelves afford 
 no certain evidence of the prolongation 
 of our being, yet it is an undoubted fadt, 
 that the belief of immortality in one form 
 or other has prevailed among mankind ia 
 
( C4 ) 
 
 ■<ill ages and nations ; among the ignorant 
 and rude, as well as the informed and 
 cultivated. 
 
 Whence hath it arifen ? From the con- 
 cluiions of reafon and the dedudlions of 
 argument ? Such never was nor conld l>e 
 the fource of any one general opinion or 
 
 perfuafion For reafonwg^ the great body 
 
 of mankind have neither leifure nor ca- 
 pacity With abilradl arguments they are 
 
 totally Linacquainted, and when propofed 
 to them they have no force or efFecl upon 
 
 their minds As to the immortality of 
 
 the foul, it is certa.in, that fo far was the 
 ])elief of it from originating from learn- 
 ing and philofophy, that fcepticifm with 
 rclpe6l to it never prevailed, till it be- 
 came the fubjecl of reafoning and argu- 
 mentation. 
 
 We are forced, therefore, to feek for 
 another and more probable fource of this 
 
 univerfal perfuafion And no opinion, 
 
 on this point, feems to be fo well fup- 
 
( 65 ) 
 
 ported as that of thofe who maintain that 
 the dodrine of immortality is co-eval 
 with man himfelf, that it was conveyed 
 to him at his creation, by the Author of 
 his being, and handed down by tradition 
 through fucceflive generations. 
 
 Certain it is, that the farther we trace 
 back the hiflory of the human race, the 
 deeper and firmer we find the belief to 
 have been of this great principle of reli- 
 gion and morals. 
 
 But it is natural to fuppofe that all tra- 
 ditional knowledge, the farther it removes 
 from its fource, the more it will be cor- 
 rupted in its purity, and impaired in its 
 influence. 
 
 And fuch was the fate of the doarine 
 under confideration. It degenerated from 
 age to age, till at length, about the time of 
 our Saviour's appearance, it was clothed 
 in fuch extravagant forms, and fo disfi- 
 gured by the abfurdities of vulgar fu- 
 perftition or poetical fidion, that men of 
 
 I 
 
( 66 ) 
 
 fenfe and refleclion were alliamed to adopt 
 it into their fyftems of belief. Unwilling^ 
 however, to renounce entirely the hopes 
 of nature, philofophers enquired with un-* 
 rernitting ftudy, what fupport and encou- 
 ragement they could derive from reafon 
 itfelf, in behalf of an opinion fo conge- 
 nial to the nobleft ambition of man. 
 
 To this mcfh interefting fubje(5l, they 
 appear to have given the whole force of 
 their minds, and all their great powers of 
 reafoning. Every argument which the 
 nature and faculties of the human foul, 
 and their ideas of Deity could fuggeftj 
 were confidered and weighed with all the 
 attention and care which genius and un- 
 wearied application could infpire and be-- 
 flow. And what was the refult ? Greater 
 hefitation, doubtfulnefs, and perplexity, 
 than exifted before. 
 
 Nor would this appear in the Icafl fur- 
 prifmg, did the limits of this difcourfe ad- 
 mit of an inveftigation of the arguments, 
 
( ^7 ^) 
 
 whether phyfical or moral, upon which 
 they relied the proof of immortahty. 
 
 Certain it is that they ferved not to 
 bring convidion to the nnderflanding, 
 or to eftabhih the minds of even thofe 
 who employed them, in the belief of this 
 great fundamental principle. This is ad- 
 mitted by an elegant modern hiftorian, 
 who will not be accufed of prejudice a- 
 gainft them. " The writings of Cicero," 
 fays he, " reprefent in mod lively colours, 
 " the ignorance, the errors, and the un- 
 " certainty of the ancient philofophers, 
 " with refpedl to the immortality of the 
 " foul. When they are defirous of arm- 
 " ing their difciples againft the fears of 
 " death, they inculcate as an obvious tho' 
 ^* melancholy pofition, that the fatal (troke 
 " of our diifolution releafes us from the 
 " calamities of life, and that they can no 
 *' longer fuffer who no longer exifl *." 
 
 * Gibbon's Hlftory of the Decline and Fall of the 
 Roman Empire, Vol- 1, p- 556. 4to. edit. 
 
( 68 ) 
 
 Compare this dark and dlfmal ftate of 
 mind in the mofl enhghtened of men guid- 
 ed by reafon alone, with the clear views, 
 undaunted fortitude, and aflured hopes of 
 the firil Chriflians in midfl of the fufFer- 
 ings, dreadful to nature, to which they 
 were expofed. 
 
 " We are troubled on every fide,*' fays 
 the apoftle Paul of himfelf and his fel- 
 low difciples, " yet not diftrefled ; we are 
 " perplexed, but not in defpair; perfecut- 
 " ed, but not forfaken ; caft down, but not 
 
 " deftroyed ; for we know, that if the 
 
 " earthly houfe of this tabernacle were 
 " diiTolved, we have a building of God, 
 " an houfe not made with hands, eternal 
 " in the heavens f." 
 
 Contrail the fentiments of Socrates with 
 thofe of that apoftle when placed in the 
 fame circumftances, and mark the differ- 
 ence, " I am now ready to be offered up," 
 fays St. Paul to Timothy, " and the time of 
 
 f 2 Cor- iv. 8, p. and chap. v. t» 
 
( 69 ) 
 
 ** my departure is at hand. I have fought 
 " a good fight, I have finilhed my couribj 
 " I have kept the faith. Henceforth there 
 " is laid up for me a crown of righteouC- 
 ", nefs, v^hich the Lord the righteous 
 " Judge will give me at that day *. For 
 *' me to live is Chrift," faid he in ano- 
 ther place, " and to die is gain f ." 
 
 And fee in what fublime and animat- 
 ing drains he writes, not merely of the 
 immortality of the foul, but of the refur- 
 redlion of the body, and its exaltation to 
 a pure and fpiritual mode of exiftence, 
 exempt from fuffering and decay, and 
 qualified for being the habitation of the 
 
 foul perfe(!^ed in holinefs and glory. 
 
 " This corruption," fpeaking of the bo- 
 dy, " mufl put on incorruption, and this 
 
 " mortal fhall put on immortality, then 
 
 *' Ihall be brought to pafs the faying that 
 " is written. Death is fwallowed up in 
 " vicflory — O death, where is thy fling, 
 
 * 2 Tim. iv. 6. is'c^ f Phil. i. 21. 
 
I 70 ) 
 
 '^' O grave, where is thy vicflory !" But 
 i"ead the whole of the noble difcourfe up- 
 on this grand and interefting fubjcdl, con- 
 tained in the fifteenth chapter of the Firft 
 Epiftie to the Corinthians, and then fay 
 whether fuch ideas concerning the invi-^ 
 libk world, could ever have entered into 
 the unaflifled mind of man. 
 
 The contraft might be carried on to a 
 great extent, but I fliall folicit your at- 
 tention to two other paiTages only, in 
 which it is complete. 
 
 " I have great hopes," faid Socrates to 
 |iis judges, " that this fentence of con^ 
 
 " demnation may be to my advantage 
 
 " For either in death all our fenfations 
 *' are extinguiilied, and then it is like 
 " the repofe of a quiet fleep undiflu.rbed 
 " by dreams ; or elfe it is a departure in- 
 " to another (late whether they who have 
 *' left the world arc already gone. And 
 " if this be the cafe^ is it nothing, think 
 ** you, to talk with Orpheus, and INlu- 
 
.{ 7' ) 
 
 ^* faeiis, and Homer, and Hefiod ? I 
 *' could die many times to enjoy thd 
 " pleafure of fucli converfations." 
 
 Who can read this paffage and not feel 
 for this wife and excellent. Heathen, thus 
 exprefTmg the hopes of nature, and. thus 
 uncertain concerning their accomplilh- 
 ment. 
 
 But attend to the animated reprefenta- 
 tions given by the apoftle Paul of the fub- 
 lime fociety, which heaven will afford to 
 the Chriflian. He fpeaks of it with e- 
 qual aifurance, as if he and they to whom 
 he addrefl himfelf, had been already in- 
 troduced into the bright alTembly. " Ye 
 " are come unto Mount Zion, and unto 
 " the city of the living God, the heavenly 
 " Jerufalem, and to an innumerable com- 
 " pany of angels ; to the general aflem- 
 " bly and church of the . firft-born which 
 " are written in heaven, and to God the 
 " judge of all, and to the fpirirs of juil 
 
{ 72 ) 
 *' men riiade perfedl, and to Jefus tlie 
 '* mediator of the new covenant *."• 
 
 Such are the profpe(5ls which the go- 
 fpel opens up, and fuch the hopes which 
 it holds forth to animate the labours, to 
 foothe the affiidlions, and to fupport the 
 patient perfeverance in Well-doing, of all 
 who receive it as a rule of faith. Pro- 
 fpedls thefe and hopes, derived not from 
 the fallible conclufions of reafon, not from 
 the fond wiflies of an afpiring mind, but 
 founded on the teflimony of the infpired 
 oracles of God. Upon this immoveable 
 bailo refts the whole fabrick of our belief 
 concerning the exiftence of the foul after 
 
 death — the refurrecflion of the body a 
 
 day of general judgment the future tor- 
 ments of the wicked, and the glorious im- 
 mortal rewards of the righteous. 
 
 Thefe grand and moll; afFedling doc- 
 trines are revealed, not in the language 
 of mere afhrmation only, but in fo great 
 
 * Heb. xii. 22. ^t-. 
 
( 73 ) 
 
 ft variety of figurative animated reprcfen- 
 tations, as to convey to the imagination, 
 as well as to the reafon and judgment the 
 livelieft and deepefl impreflions of their 
 truth and reality. They are confirmed 
 by the mofl folemn authority which hea- 
 ven and earth could afford by the de- 
 clarations, by the death, and refurrec- 
 tion and afcenfion of God's eternal Son* 
 And what can operate fo powerfully up- 
 on the human mind as thefe views of 
 the moral government of God ? What 
 can ferve fo effedlually to recal men from 
 the grovelling purfuit of objects unwor- 
 thy of their nature, and excite their moft 
 vigorous endeavours for the attainment 
 of thofe moral qualities v/hich will fur- 
 vive the ftroke of death, and conflitute 
 the eternal felicity of intelligent beings ? 
 
 Who can reflecl in particular, upon 
 that happy immortality which Chrift and 
 his apoilles have defcribed as prepared for 
 real Chridians, and not conftantly dif- 
 
 K. 
 
( 74 ) 
 
 Cern its wonderful aptitude to the deiireS 
 and nobleft ambition of our nature ? In 
 fine, who can ferioufly attend to that glo- 
 rious fyftem of which this is the grand 
 objedl and final confummation^ and not 
 acknowledge from the warmefl feelings of 
 his heart, as well as the fuUell: convicflion 
 of his underflanding, that it is the great 
 truth of God for the improvement and 
 comfort of m„an. 
 
 IFIaving thiis offered a very general il- 
 luftration of the feveral propofitions Hat- 
 ed, permit me to give the fum of what 
 has been faid, in a very fliort abftradl. 
 
 Is the mind of man, naturally igno- 
 rant, by its own unaflilied powers totally 
 incapable of difcovering truths in them- 
 felves mofl important, and of mofh effen- 
 t.ial confequence foi* m?ai to know ? Behold 
 the gofpel, like the benign rays of the 
 iTxorning fun on the benighted world, il- 
 luminating his dark underflanding, in- 
 
{ 75 ) 
 Jlruding lilin in every branch of know-r 
 Jedge necellary to inform his judgment, to 
 improve his he^rt, and elevate his fovil to 
 that rank ii> the fcalc of moral exiflience 
 for which it was originally defigned. 
 
 Is man guilty and depraved, condemn- 
 ed by his own mind, and terrified with 
 juft apprehenfions of future and deferved 
 puniihment ? Hear the foul-reviving lan- 
 gui^ge in which the gofpel addreffes him. 
 ^' Believe in the Lord Jefus Chrifl, and 
 " thou Ihalt be f ived *, There is no 
 *' condemnation to them who are in Chrift 
 
 " Jefus It is God that juflifieth: who is 
 
 " he that condemneth f ?" 
 
 Is man not criminal only, and obnoxi- 
 ous to deferved puniiliment^ but to every 
 moral and good purfuit weak and impo- 
 tent, incapable of loving and ferving and 
 .enjoying God ? See the gofpel holding 
 forth, to his acceptance, the fecret but 
 fffeclual energy of the divine Spirit, to 
 
 * Atls xvi. 31. f Roni. viii. i 33, 3.1,. 
 
 Kij 
 
{ 76 ) 
 
 change his difpofition, renew his nature, 
 and by his bleffing upon means adapted 
 to the end, to train him up in a progref- 
 five courfe of moral improvement into a 
 fitnefs for the eternal enjoyment of his 
 Maker. 
 
 Is man by nature the child of fufFer- 
 ing and the heir of forrow, is he fubjedl- 
 ed to a conftant fucceflion of afflictions 
 for which he cannot account, and under 
 which he finds no efFedlual confolation ? 
 Liften to the gofpel alTuring and con- 
 vincing him, that thefe trials are not 
 only no real evils, but bleflings in dif- 
 guife, the medicine of the foul, and means 
 in the hand of God, for purifying it from 
 the drofs of corruption, and preparing it 
 for admiffion into the regions of eternal 
 purity and peace. 
 
 In fine, a.re man's natural profpedls be- 
 yond the grave covered with darknefs 
 which reafon in vain attempts to pene- 
 trate, and is his mind, in confequenccj^ 
 
( 77 ) 
 filled with fear and perplexity ? See life 
 and immortality unveiled by the gofpel,e- 
 very thing difcovered concerning a future 
 and unfeen world which it is necefTary for 
 man to know, or which it is probable he 
 can comprehend : Every thing at leaft, 
 which can ferve to allay his fears, con- 
 firm his hopes, and eftabliih his mind in 
 fecurity and peace. 
 
 Confider then, this grand and wonder- 
 ful fyftem of divine wifdom and grace. 
 Think of it with the ferioufnefs which 
 is due to the importance of the fubjec^ ; 
 view it in its full extent and beautiful 
 connexion of parts ; then turn your at- 
 tention upon your own lituation and cha- 
 racter, lay your hands upon your hearts 
 and fay if you can, that this is not the 
 fyflem which your nature required : Or 
 rather fay, whether it is poflible for the 
 human mind to form the conception of a 
 fcheme of religion, fo admirably calcu- 
 lated to fnpply its defecls, to heal its dit- 
 
( 78 ) 
 
 cafes, to reilore it to its primitive dignity 
 and excellence. Indeed, my friends, to 
 the {iD-tQ and clrcumftances of man it i.^ 
 adapted with fach perfeci and peculiar 
 &iii, that to the mind which feriouily at- 
 tends to both, and compares them toge- 
 ther, this conclufion is irreiiftible, " the 
 - author of oiir nature, and the author 
 *' of our religion is one." 
 
 Let us now attend for a little to the 
 improvement to be made of this difcourie. 
 
 And, in the^r/? place, let me afic whe- 
 ther this Qi^conomy of religion is not wor- 
 thy of all acceptation, as the noblefl and 
 bcif gift which heaven in mercy could 
 beftow upon man ? if fo, hcvv^ enormous 
 is the guilt of thefe men, who, in fpite of 
 evidence the moft fatisfying, and too of.- 
 ten, it is to be feared, in oppof tion to 
 the convictions of tlieir underfcandings, 
 and the feelings of their hearts, not only 
 j'.cjccT: this divine fyfteni, but traduce its 
 
( 79 ) 
 
 Excellence, hinder its progrefs, and ftrlvS 
 to deftroy its influence ? Let them be- 
 ware : Their guilt is great, their danger 
 is extreme. " There is a fin which is un- 
 " to death*; a fin which fhall not be £or- 
 " given either in this world, or in that 
 " which is to come f.'* 
 
 In the fecond place, from the Iketch 
 that has been given of a few of its lead- 
 ing features, it appears, that the gofpel 
 contains an uniform, regular, and har- 
 monious plaUj fo intimately and effenti- 
 ally connected in all its parts, that not 
 one can be taken av^^ay, without a mate- 
 rial injury to the whole. The grand ob- 
 je<5l of the gofpel, as we have feen, is to 
 raife man fallen and apoftate, from igno- 
 rance, guilt, and mifery, to glory and im- 
 mortality. The means employed are Vvor- 
 thy of the end, they are alike from God, 
 and their fuccefs is infallibly certain : 
 for what infinite v^ifdom hath devifcd, 
 
 * J John V. 1 6. f Matth. xii. 3;. 
 
( 8o ) 
 
 omnipotepxt power is able to accompllfhi 
 To alter, or innovate uport this plan, and 
 efpecially to remove any one link of this 
 great chain is dangerous in the extreme. 
 Strip the gofpel, for example, of the doc- 
 trine of the atonement, and what foun- 
 dation remains to the fmner, on which to 
 build his hopes of pardon and eternal life? 
 Remove the influences of the Spirit, and 
 how is it pofhble, that a being {o deprav- 
 ed, fo unlike to God, and fo feeble in his 
 moral and religious faculties can become 
 qualified for the prefence and enjoyment 
 ot his Maker ? Take away any one doc- 
 trine peculiat to the gofpel, and you de- 
 llroy the unity and harmony of the whole 
 fyftem. It becomes broken and disjoint- 
 ed in its members, the means ceafe to be 
 equal to the end, the foul is deprived of 
 the great fouixes of its fecurity, and re-^ 
 lapfes into fearful nels and doubt. In a 
 word, it is no longer the plan of divine 
 wifdom, but of human invention, nor is 
 
(81) 
 
 die honour of the divine perfections con* 
 cerned to crown it with fuccefs. 
 
 Do you wifh then, my friends, to have 
 your minds eftabHfhed in the true know- 
 ledge and faith of the gofpel-fyflem ? 
 Seek it not, I befeech you, in the partial, 
 infidious reprefentations of dehgning men, 
 but in the fcriptures themfelves. There 
 you will fee it in all its excellence, you 
 will admire its apitude to your condition, 
 you will feel its vaft importance and va- 
 lue ; and with joy you will acquiefce in 
 it as the ivifdom and the power ofGodiox 
 falvation. 
 
 Lajllyy If the plan of the gofpel, in its 
 true extent, be indeed fo admirably a- 
 dapted to the flate and circumftances of 
 man ; if it provides a remedy for his ig- 
 norance, guilt and imbecility ; if it af- 
 fords to him, the only effcd^ual confola- 
 tion under the various troubles and for- 
 rows of a prefent life, and the only fure 
 foundation upon wdiich his hopes of ano- 
 
 L 
 
( Sz ) 
 
 ther and better can reft; then it follows, 
 that to extend the knowledge, and to pro^ 
 mote the iniluience of this divine fyftem, 
 r.re the nobleft objedls of hiiman benevo- 
 lence. 
 
 To a dark and benighted world at large, 
 our efforts cannot extend. New arrange- 
 ments of Providence alone, can pave the 
 ^vay for its converfion. But while we 
 ieel for the unhappy Situation of the vail 
 multitudes of our fellow creatures re- 
 maining in ignorance and idolatry, and 
 lament cur incapacity to bring them re^ 
 lief, let us humbly and earneftly recom-r 
 mend them, to the compafTionate regards 
 of the great univerfal Parent; let us plead 
 with him as arguments, his refpccl to his 
 ovv'^n glory, and to the beft interefts of his 
 rational cffsprmg : Let us plead with hiui 
 his ov\'n truth and faithfulnefs in fulfil-^ 
 ling his promifes, that by methods knov/n 
 to his infinite wifdom, he would enlight- 
 en the dark places of the earth, with the; 
 
( 83 ) 
 
 pure ligKt of evangelical truth, and haft- 
 en the happy time foretold, " ivhen the 
 " dominion of Chrift Poall extend from fea to 
 " fea^ and from the liver even unto the ends 
 " of the earth *." 
 
 But although, by good wiflies and pray- 
 ers alone, we can exprefs our Chriftian be- 
 nevolence to the Infidel world at large, yet 
 in behalf of certain corners of it, we may 
 certainly employ more atflive and imme- 
 diate exertions. To the remote, unculti- 
 vated, untutored diftricls of our own 
 country in particular, we may, and every 
 principle of religion, and every feeling 
 of humanity call upon us, to fend relief 
 by fuch means as are within our power. 
 This is the ivell knoivn ohjccf of that Society on 
 whofe account ive have met together^ and at 
 'ujbofc dcfre I have ciddrefed you. Their 
 panegyric vrould come with an ill grace 
 from one of their own body, and who for 
 
 * Zecli. ix. lo, 
 
 Lij 
 
( 84 ) 
 fome yeafs has had a fliare in the direc-* 
 tion of their bufinefs. 
 
 A more particular account, than would 
 become this place, of our procedure, of 
 the fpecial objecls of our attention, and 
 of the fuccefs which ha§ attended our la- 
 bours, will foon, according to ufual prac- 
 tice, be ftibmitted to the infpecflion of the 
 
 public. In general, I have the fatisfac- 
 
 tlon to inform you, that, at no period, 
 were the aflPairs of the Society in a more 
 
 ilourilliing fituation than at prefent, 
 
 at no period did they exhibit a fairer 
 profpe^ of increafing benefit to our coun- 
 try. With the mod lively gratitude, we 
 acknowledge the continuing generofity of 
 the public, and the munificence of indi- 
 vidual benefadlors, in Confequence of 
 which, from fmall beginnings, our funds 
 have arifen to their prefent magnitude. 
 Of the confidence of the public in the in- 
 tegrity with which this facred and im- 
 l^ortant trvift has been conducfled, we have 
 
{ 85 ) 
 
 received, and particularly of late, the moil 
 flattering and fubilantial proofs. Men of 
 the firfl: rank in the kingdom, whofe 
 names are an ornament to their high lla- 
 tion, and others both of this and the 
 neighbouring country, diftinguiflied by 
 the eminence of their talents, and their 
 influence in public affairs, have not dif- 
 dained to enrol their names with ours, as 
 members of an affociation for promoting 
 religious knowledge, and uleful induftry. 
 They have not been afhamed to appear, 
 in an open, avowed manner, as its pa- 
 trons and benefadlors, and with an ac- 
 tive and liberal fpirit, to labour for pro- 
 moting its great and beneficent purpofes. 
 In the confcioufnefs of their own benevo- 
 lence, in the bleifnigs of them who were 
 ready to pcriih for lack of knovdedge, 
 and above all, in the approbation of the 
 great univerfal Parent of mankind, may 
 they find their noble reward ' 
 
( 85 ) 
 
 To a variety of perfons, whom their ii- 
 tuation in life preckided from perfonal 
 fervices, we have lately been indebted for 
 generous donations, to aiTifl in carrying on 
 the good canfe in which we are engaged. 
 With gratitude they have been received, 
 and with fidelity, they Ihall be employed. 
 
 But one donation received fince we had 
 lafl an opportunity of meeting together up- 
 on this occanon, is of too great magnitude 
 to be pad over^ with this general acknow- 
 ledgment. I mean the princely benefac- 
 tion of a Lady*, whofe name will long be 
 precious to the real friends of religion and 
 •their country — a Lady whofe rank and 
 high connections, whofe uncommon na- 
 tural abilities, and acquired accomplifh- 
 ments, would have attracted the notice 
 and commanded the re(pc(5l of the politeft 
 circles, but whofe chief didinclion arof^ 
 from a v/arm and uniform fenfe of piet}'j 
 a heart- felt zeal for the bed interefts of 
 
 * Lady Vifcoimtefs Glcnorchy. 
 
( 8; ) 
 religion and her fellow creatures, and un- 
 wearied, uninterrupted exertions in pro- 
 moting thcni. To thefe important pur- 
 pofes ilie devoted her eminent talents and 
 Jier beneficent life. To thefe objecls, at 
 her death, flie confecrated her ample for- 
 tune : To prornote the ends of this Socie- 
 ty in particular, flie bequeathed a fum * 
 fo confiderable, as greatly to enlarge our 
 fphere of ufefulnefs. 
 
 While we gratefully acknowledge this 
 and other benefaclions, while we give 
 thanks to God, for putting it into tho 
 hearts of thofe to whom he had given the 
 power, to bellow them ; we at the fame 
 time profefs ourfelves to be only ftewards 
 for the pubhc, in employing them. For 
 public purpofes they v/cre given, aiul to 
 the public, we pledge ourfelves, they fliall 
 faithfully be devoted. Be ours the pains- 
 and the labour, be theirs the advantage. 
 We folicit the countenance and aid of our 
 
 * L. 5,000 Sterling. 
 
( 88 ) 
 
 fellow citizens, only in fo far, as our fi- 
 delity to our truft fliall appear to deferve 
 them. The real friends of religion and 
 their country muft be friends to our 
 caufe. They who have feen the excel- 
 lence and felt the power of the gofpel of 
 Chrifl:, mufl be anxious for its extenfion ; 
 their hearts will dictate a benevolent, fer- 
 vent prayer to the Father of Lights, that 
 the glorious Sun of Righteoufnefs may 
 fpeedily arife upon the dark places of the 
 earth ; that upon the remote corners of 
 our own country in particular, where as 
 yet he is feen but obfcurely, his light 
 may break forth in all its luftre, to dif- 
 pel the gloom of fpiritual darknefs, and 
 to alleviate the wretchednefs of penury 
 and toil. 
 
 Real Chriflians cannot fail to regard 
 with approbation attempts to open up pro- 
 fpeds of prefent comfort, and of future 
 joy to our unhappy fellow fubjecbs, hi- 
 therto left in ignorance and poverty, to 
 
( 89 ) 
 <E:onvey to them that peace and animating 
 hope, which the benign influence of the 
 gofpel never fails to infpire. To fuch be- 
 nevolent efforts, in their feveral ftations, 
 and according to their refpe(5live abilities, 
 they will lend their countenance and aid, 
 and to all they will join their earned pray- 
 ers for that blefling which alone can give 
 fuccefs. 
 
 Pray brethren for us, and for all who 
 ^re immediately engaged in promoting the 
 great objedls of this inflitution, that our 
 zeal and abilities may correfpond to the 
 importance of our work, that the effec- 
 tual energy of the Spirit of God may ac- 
 company our endeavours, and that ivc\ 
 however mean and unworthy, may be ho- 
 noured as fellow labourers together with God^ 
 to bring many fouls from darknefs and 
 ignorance, to knowledge and light and 
 life in the Lord. Amen. 
 
 M 
 
FACTS SERVING TO ILLUSTRATE 
 
 THE 
 
 CHARACTER 
 
 OP 
 
 THE RIGHT HG NO URAB LE 
 
 THOMAS EARL OF KINNOULL, 
 
 LATE PRESIDENT OF THE SOCIETY IN SCOTLAND 
 
 FOR 
 
 PROPAGATING CHRISTIAN KNOWLEDGE. 
 
 PUBLISHED BY ORDER OF THE SOCIETY. 
 
 EDINBURGH: 
 
 AT THE ajlOlTc PjeffS, BV MARTIbf AND T'/doWALL. 
 
 Anno 1 7 88. 
 
•the 
 
 CHARACTER 
 
 OF 
 THE RIGHT HONOURABLE 
 
 THOMAS LATE EARL OF KINNOULL, 
 
 A H E Society in Scotland for propagat- 
 ing Chriftian Knowledge, deeply feniible 
 of the lofs which they have fuflained by 
 the death of the Right Hon. Thomas Earl 
 of RinnouU, their late worthy Prefident, 
 Gonfider it as a duty incumbent upon them 
 to teftify to the world their refpe(fl for his 
 memory, and their gratitude for his bene- 
 ficent attention to the obje(fls of their in- 
 ftitution. As a Society, founded for the 
 purpofe of promoting the caufe of reli- 
 gion, they think themfelves called upon, 
 to exhibit to public view a chara(5ler form- 
 ed upon religious principles, and afford- 
 ing a bright example of their influeace* 
 
( 94 ) 
 General panegyric is often the creation of 
 
 fancy The objedl which they have in 
 
 vieWj they imagine will be beft attained, 
 by a plain unornamented detail of a few 
 fadls in the conducfl of this Angularly good 
 man — from thefe his real charader will 
 beft appear. 
 
 The late Earl of Kinnoull was born in 
 1 710, married 1741 to Conftantia, daugh- 
 ter of John Kirle-Earnley, Efq;* by whom 
 he had ifTue one fon who died an infants 
 He was chofen Member of Parliament for 
 Cambridge in 1741, and reprefented that 
 Corporation till he fucceeded his father in 
 the Peerage in 1758. He was alfo chofen 
 Recorder of Cambridge and held that of- 
 fice till his death. He was for many years 
 Chairman of the Committee of Privileges. 
 In 1 741 he was appointed one of the Com- 
 
 millioners of the Revenue in Ireland, in 
 
 1 746, a Lord of Trade and Plantations, — in 
 1754, a Lord of the Treafury, — in 1755, 
 
 * She disd in 1753. 
 
«# 
 
 ( 95 ) 
 Paymafter General of his Majefly's Forces, 
 
 in 1758, Chancellor of the Dutchy of 
 
 Lancafter, and Member of the Privy Coun- 
 cil, and, in 1 759, Ambaflador Extraordi- 
 nary to the Court of Portugal. 
 
 A reprefentation of his condu6l in pub- 
 lic life is not intended by the Society, this 
 they leave to be fought for in the annals 
 of his country. Suffice it in general t© 
 fay, that, guided by the purefl principles 
 of the conftitution, he uniformly exerted 
 himfelf to preferve inviolate the jufl rights 
 and privileges of each part of the Britifli 
 legiflature, to maintain the laws and li- 
 berties of his country, and to promote, as 
 far as lay in his power, the fafety, the 
 honour, and the welfare of the ftate. 
 
 His unremitting attention to public bu- 
 finefs for fo long a period, and in fo many 
 different offices, having greatly impaired 
 his health, in 1762 he refigned all his 
 employments under the crown, and re- 
 folved to dedicate the remainder of hi« 
 
( 96 ) 
 
 life to retirement, at the feat of his ancef-^ 
 tors — A refolution, from which the moft 
 urgent foUcitations and fplendid offers 
 were never able to divert him. 
 
 In January 1768, this Society, with one 
 voice, invited him to be their Prefident. 
 An oiEce for which he was eminently qua- 
 lified, and which, with much credit to 
 himfelf and benefit to the inflitution, he 
 fuflained till his death. 
 
 A liberal annual donation was but one 
 of many favours which he conferred upon 
 the Society. From the time of his elec- 
 tion he entered with fpirit and zeal in- 
 to their objedls, and uniformly exerted 
 himfelf to promote them. When prefent, 
 he prefided with ability and moderation in 
 their councils; and when abfent, replied 
 with fcrupulous puncfluality to their let- 
 ters, and favoured them with his advice 
 and affiftance whenever they were requi- 
 
 fite ^To his talents and influence, as well 
 
 as to bis extenfivq^ knowledge and long 
 
{ 97 ) 
 
 pracllce in buiinefs, the Society were of- 
 ten (ingularly indebted. 
 
 But his conduct, as prefident of thio 
 Society, exhibits only a partial and very 
 limited view of this worthy nobleman. 
 
 His charadler was uniform and confift- 
 ent in all its features, for it was formed 
 by principles which admit of no varia- 
 tion. The Society can trace it only in a 
 few of its outlines ; but what they advance 
 refls either upon fadls of public notorie- 
 ty, or the perlonal knowledge of fome of 
 their own members whofe teftimony is 
 beyond fufp^cion. 
 
 A warm but rational piety was the great 
 leading principle of his characfler, it di- 
 rected and pervaded every part of his con- 
 duct in public and private life. 
 
 Ke made no oitentatious difplay of re- 
 ligion, but he was not alhamed to prac- 
 tife the duties, and avow the feelings 
 which belong to a Chriftian. The appre- 
 henfion of cenfurc or of ridicule from the 
 
 N 
 
( 98 ) 
 
 fafhionable world, deterred him not froin 
 giving regular attendance upon the public 
 ordinances of divine woriliip. This part 
 of his condudl flowed from noble and jufl 
 principles. 
 
 Public homage, he confidered to be in- 
 difpenfably due from every member of 
 fociety, to the great Author of all public 
 as well as private good. He firmly be- 
 lieved in the eflablifhed religion of his 
 country. He felt the reverence which 
 a good citizen owes to its inftitutions. 
 He knew the influence of the example of 
 men of his rank, upon the manners of the 
 inferiour, and great body of the commu- 
 nity. His attendance, therefore, upon 
 public worfliip, was not occafional but 
 regular, and extended to the whole of its 
 ufual and Hated fervices. 
 
 Although, while refident in England, 
 and in a public flation abroad, he was of 
 the communion of the Church of England, 
 (naturally led to this, by his education and 
 
[ 99 ) 
 
 the pra6lice of his family) yet when he 
 came to Uve in this country, he conform- 
 ed to the ufages of the Church of Scot- 
 land. He well knew, that in articles of 
 faith and doctrine, the two filler churches 
 are united, and that matters of form con- 
 ftitute the chief, if not the only difference 
 between them. 
 
 This good man*s deep-felt fenfe of reli- 
 gion was expreffed in a manner flill more 
 fingular, and worthy of admiration. 
 
 When, fi'om the abfence or ficknefs of 
 the minifter, or any other caufe, there was 
 no public worfhip in his parifli-church, it 
 was his regular pra(5lice on the Lord's days 
 to call together his family and domeflics, 
 to read to them a portion of the fcrip- 
 tures, and fuch books of religion as he 
 judged befl adapted to their improvement, 
 and to prefide among them in immediate 
 scls of devotion. And this laft he uni- 
 formly did every Sunday evening through 
 the year. 
 
 N ij 
 
( ioo ) 
 
 It was his opinion, that no elevatidn or 
 rank can be an apology for the negle(ft of 
 the duties which man owes to his Maker; 
 and befldes, that no man can ever appear 
 in a more dignified or graceful attitude, 
 than when at the head of his family, ac- 
 kliowledging the bounties, and foliciting 
 the continuing proteclrtion of their great 
 cotomon Parent. The compofitions which 
 he ufed in thefe acls of fartiily-devotion 
 
 were his own, and finguiarly excellent, in 
 
 reciting them, which he did from memo- 
 ry, the animation and fervour of his man- 
 ner at once demonfirated the v/armth of 
 his own devotional feelings, and excited 
 a congenial fpirit in the breafts of all who 
 heard him. 
 
 When no clergyman was prefent, he 
 always officiated as chaplain at his own 
 
 table, both before and after meals, not 
 
 by the fliort form commonly, and too often 
 irreverently repeated, but by a few fuit- 
 able expreffions pronounced with the de* 
 
( loi ) 
 
 Cent fokmniry which becomes an imme- 
 diate addrefs to the Deity. 
 " ■ He regularly joined in the celebration 
 of the Lord's fupper, in his parifli-church, 
 and attended upon all the religious fer- 
 vices preparatory to, and confequent up- 
 on that ordinance, as ufually obfervcd in 
 the Church of Scotland. The clofencfs of 
 Ills attention, and the ferioufnefs of his 
 mind upon thefe occahons, vifibly aiv 
 peared in his countenance and manner. 
 He had a lingular delight in that ordi- 
 nance, and it always feemcd to produce 
 the happieft effedl upon his mind, __ to 
 give a briilsier flow to his fpirits, and a 
 new degree of vivacity to his converfation. 
 The duties of the clofet he obferved 
 with no lefs care than thofe of the famih/ 
 and church. To fecret devotion a confidcr- 
 able part of his time was daily allotted ; du- 
 ring the time confecrated to this purpole^ 
 no engagements in bufineis, nor hurry of 
 company were fuffercd to intrude. The 
 
C 102 ) 
 
 Icriptiires were the guide and conftatit 
 companion of his devotions. Few had flu- 
 died them with clofer attention, and few 
 had more thorouglily imbibed their fpirit. 
 
 His beUef of Chriftianity was fincere, 
 the refiilt of ferious and careful invefti- 
 gation. Ahnofl every book of charadler, 
 upon the nature and evidences of the go- 
 ipel he had read. with care, and as his me- 
 mory was retentive to an uncommon de- 
 gree, he was never obferved to be at a 
 ]ofs when any branch of that fubject was 
 introduced into converfation. 
 
 Sincere in his profefllon of religion, e- 
 very thing immediately connedled with 
 its interefl engaged his attention. He 
 was, of confequence, a friend to its mi- 
 nillers. They were acceptable guefls at 
 his very hofpitable table, and v/ith the 
 worthy and learned among them he cul- 
 tivated habits of familiar intercourfe. 
 
 Some of the brightcft ornaments of the 
 Church of England he numbered among 
 
( 1^3 ) 
 
 his particular friends ; and of the Scortiil\ 
 clergy diere were not a few whom he ho- 
 noured with diflinguifliing marks of his 
 confidence and efteem. To the miniflers 
 in his immediate neighbourhood, he gave 
 a genera' invitation to his houfe, and to 
 the ufe jf his library ; and encouraged 
 them upon every occafion of moment, to 
 folicit, and repofe upon his advice and 
 aflifliancc 
 
 In all thofe parifhes where he was an 
 heritor, he promoted the augmentation 
 of the livings, and gave liberal afliftance 
 to every plan propofed for the accommo- 
 dation ol the minifliers. 
 
 As he invited the clergy to his fociety 
 and table, fo there was not only nothing 
 to deter, but every thing to induce them 
 to comply, In his prefence nothing was 
 ever permitted which had the remotefl 
 afpedl of indecorum, and fuch was the 
 reverence which his well known charac- 
 ter infpired, that even men of rank, tho' 
 
( 104 ) 
 
 fee in tlieir principles, and in other comw 
 panics licentious in their converfat^on, yet 
 before him were moft guarded and atten- 
 tive to propriety. 
 
 But the Earl of Kinnoull's converfa- 
 tion was not innocent only, it was in- 
 ilrudtive in no common degree. Few 
 men had treafurcd up fo great a (lore of 
 various and important knowledge. He 
 was an excellent clailical fchclar, and 
 while among literary men, his frequent 
 and apt quotations, fliewed his ramiliari^ 
 ty with the befl writers of antiqiity, par- 
 ticularly the P^oman poets. 
 
 With the hiilory and flate of modern 
 literature alfo, his acquaintance was ex- 
 tenfive and accurate. The beft new pub.-^ 
 iications were regularly fent to him, and 
 added to his ample colledlion ; they wer? 
 frequently the fubjeds of his converfa- 
 tion, and vipon none did his memory, 
 taile, and judgment, appear to greater ad- 
 vantage. 
 
{ IC5 ) 
 
 Another ilne of converfation in which 
 he excelled, and for whicli he had an in- 
 cxhauflible fund of materials, was in giv- 
 ing curious and interefting anecdotes con- 
 cerning the diftinguifhed perfonagcs of 
 his time, the political tranfac\ions of that 
 period, and the fecret fprings which pro- 
 duced them. 
 
 The high offices of flate which he had 
 long filled, and the habits of intimacy in 
 which he had lived v/iih people of high 
 rank and confequence, gave him oppor- 
 tunities of knowing, and entertaining 
 his friends with many fa6ls and circum- 
 jftanccs which they could derive from no 
 other fource of information. 
 
 His near relation to Robert the great 
 Earl of Oxford, fufEciently accounts for 
 his early introduc^lion into the political 
 world ; his own ability, integHty, and 
 unremitting attention to bufincfs fecursd 
 and increafed that influence which natu- 
 rally arofe to him from hi- high conncxi- 
 
 O 
 
( io6 ) 
 
 6ns. With the firft men of his time, botll 
 in the poUtical and Uterary world, he liv- 
 ed in habits of familiar interconrfe. Lord 
 Hardwicke, Mr Pelham, the Earl of Manf- 
 iield, Archbifliop Seeker, and Mr Pope^ 
 were of the number, and may ferve as a 
 fpecimen of thofe with whom he chiefly 
 alTociated. 
 
 A confiderable part of a lifetime fpent in 
 fuch fociety, in fcenes of national bufinefs, 
 and in literary pnrfiiits, could not but af- 
 ford ample ftore of valuable information, 
 nor, v/ith his franknefs of communication, 
 fail to render his converfation as entertain- 
 ing as it was inflru(51ive. 
 
 But the Earl of Kinnoull v\i\s not fitted 
 
 only to ihine in converfation, he w^as 
 
 ftill more diftinguiihed by his acJilive, dif- 
 fufive benevolence. His retirement from 
 public bufinefs was not devoted to indo- 
 lence and inaction. The remainder of his 
 life, though in a more contracted fphere^ 
 
( 1^7 ) 
 was afliduoiifly employed in the fcrvice of 
 liis fellow creatures. 
 
 Many evidences of his pubhc fpirit and 
 beneficence he has left behind him. That 
 noble and iifeful work the bridge over the 
 Tay at Perth, it is well known, owes to him 
 
 its exiftence, under his aufpices, and at 
 
 the rifle of his private fortune, it was rear- 
 ed, and will, it is to be hoped, remain to 
 lucceeding ages a monument to his ho- 
 nour. 
 
 At the meetings of the noblemen and 
 gentlemen of that part of the country 
 where he refided, he gave conftant at- 
 tendance, when his health permitted, and 
 the importance of the objecl required his 
 prefence. In their deliberations, the ge- 
 nerofity and difintereflednefs of his views, 
 united to his great talents and experience 
 in buiinefs, never failed to command uni- 
 verfal refpecl. 
 
 The benevolent and Vv'orthy part which 
 he ac^ed towards the Society in Scotland 
 
 Oij 
 
( io8 ) 
 
 fdr propagating Chriftian knowledge, has 
 been already mentioned. To various char 
 ritable inftitutions in England, he was a 
 a regular and liberal contributor. 
 
 But, in no part of his condudl did the 
 excellence of this good man's heart more 
 amiably difcover itfelf, than in his. beha- 
 viour to young people. An old man fur- 
 rounded by young men (Irongly attached 
 to him, affords a pleafing fpedlacle. It 
 was the pidlure frequently exhibited by 
 the Earl of Kinnoull He delighted in 
 their fociety. He encouraged them to 
 come to his houfe — fuperintended their 
 education — examined into their progrefs, 
 and gave them inftrucflion. He ftrove, by 
 every wiiming art and proper indulgence 
 to make himfelf agreeable to them, and 
 to gain their confidence, that he might 
 improve their minds by ufeful knowledge, 
 and form them to the love of religion an<i 
 virtue. 
 
( i^9 ) 
 
 With tliefe difpofitlons it is not to be 
 wondered, that he accepted with pleafure 
 of the office of Cha7icdlor of the Univerftty of 
 St, Andrews^ to which, upon the death of 
 the late Duke of Cumberland, the former 
 Chancellor, he was unanimoufly ele(5led 
 in the year 1 765. 
 
 Having made himfelf mafler of the hi- 
 ftory and conflitution of that ancient fe- 
 minary, he was enabled with knowledge 
 and effedl to interpofe in its affairs ; and 
 to every reafonable proportion for its ad- 
 vancement, he always gave the mofl de- 
 cided fupport. 
 
 The profelTors, encouraged by his en- 
 gaging manners, regarded him as their 
 friend, as v^rell as patron, and were ac- 
 cuftomed in all their affairs of confe- 
 quence to repofe upon his advice. 
 
 For the encouragement of genius and 
 literature among the fludents, he inftitut- 
 ed, at his ow^n expence, annual premi- 
 ums for thofe who fhould excel in the 
 
( iiQ ) 
 difFerent clafTes, and various branches of 
 fcience. At the diftribution of the prizes 
 he attended in perfon. 
 
 Upon a particular and flated day, he 
 went annually to St. Andrews, in his pub- 
 lic chara6ler as Chancsllor, and was re- 
 ceived by the v>^hole members of the uni-* 
 veriity, as v/ell as many af the neigh- 
 bouring gentry and clergy. In a full 
 afTenibly, the young men, to whom the 
 fuiFrages of the profefibrs ha,d adjudged 
 the preference, recited their feveral exer- 
 cifes, and received from the noble Chan- 
 cellor, the applaufe, together with the 
 premium to which merit had entitled 
 them. To this employment, as grateful 
 to his own feelings, as well intended for 
 the benefit of the public, he commonly 
 devoted a week at a timc» 
 
 During this annual vilit to St. Andrews, 
 he never failed to witnefs, and to preiide 
 in a public examination of the grammar,, 
 fchccl. The warm applai^e vrhich hq 
 
( 1" ) 
 
 beftowed upon the ability and fuccefs of 
 the re(5lor *, the animating encourage- 
 ments which he held forth to the boys, 
 and the fatisfacftion which glowed in his 
 countenance on difcovering, from year to 
 year, their rapid improvement, marked 
 the fincerity and ardour of his zeal for 
 the good education of youth, and their 
 progrefs in ufeful and polite literature. 
 
 But his attention to literary merit was 
 not confined to honorary marks of his 
 Approbation. To genius and defert hs 
 always gave encouragement fuited to the 
 fituation in which he found them ; to 
 young men of fortune his countenance 
 
 and praife; to thofe blelTed with talents^ 
 
 but ftruggling with poverty, the means of 
 carrying forward their education. And 
 this he did, fometimes by procuring for 
 them Burfancs^ (correfponding to what 
 in the Engliili univerfities are called Ex- 
 hibitions) fometimes by occafional pre- 
 
 * Mr Halket. 
 
( 112 ) 
 
 fents of money and books, and rometimea 
 by annual penfions. Even when their e- 
 ducation was completed, he deferted not 
 thofe whom he had afTiIled, or of whom 
 
 he had conceived a favourable opinion 
 
 he exerted himfelf to obtain for them a 
 comfortable fettlement for life. For fuch 
 of them as had turned their views towards 
 the church, he had opportunities of pro- 
 viding, by the number of ecclefiaftical be- 
 nefices in his gift. And in this capacity 
 of patron of church preferments ^^ the piety 
 and benevolence of his chara(5ler receive 
 ji new and ftriking iiluflration. 
 
 The Earl of KinnouU was too well ac- 
 quainted with human natitre, not to be 
 convinced that a favourable opinion of tlie 
 teacher, upon the part of thofe whom he 
 is appointed to teach, is as eiTcntial to his 
 tifefulnefs among them, as it is to his own 
 perfonal comfort. He had ftiidied the ge- 
 nius of the people of Scotland, of that 
 part of it in particular, where his intereft 
 
( 113 ) 
 
 lay, and he knew how much of their hap- 
 pinefs depends upon their having mini- 
 flers poffcffing their confidence and re- 
 fpe<5l eftabUfhed ^moilg them. He con- 
 fidered, moreover, the power of appoint- 
 ing the pubhc teachers of rehgion as a 
 facred triilt, v^rhjch with confcientious fi- 
 
 deUty it behoved him to fulfil To con-^ 
 
 dud: himfelf upon thefe principles, was 
 his uniform endeavour, and his fiiccefs 
 correfpOnded to thie purity of his ihten- 
 tiohs. 
 
 Peace to the pariih, and ufefulnefs to 
 the mmifter^ were his great obje<5J:s ; yet 
 he never fufiered himfelf to becoilie the 
 diipe of either unmerited popular ftivour, 
 or caufelefs popular refentment. 
 
 The maxim by which he conducted 
 himfelf, in this part of his duty, will bcft 
 appear in his own words, v.iiich lie often 
 repeated to his friends. *' I will never,'* 
 faid he, " prom.ote a clergyman of vvliom 
 *^ I have not a good opinion, hovrcver 
 
( "4 ) 
 
 ^' earneflly the people may defird it, nait 
 " will I force even a good man into a pa- 
 " rifli, againfh whom the parilliioners 
 " feem to have conceived invincible pre- 
 " judices." 
 
 In compliance with this principle, he 
 fometimes found it necelTary to give way 
 to a general oppohtion from a pariili, to 
 the man of his choice ; but this was an ex- 
 ercife of rnoderation and prudence which 
 he had feldom occalion to employ* Tem- 
 porary difgufls againil: deferving candi- 
 dates, and the factious oppofition of po- 
 pular demagogues, he knew how to over- 
 look, or, by the weight of his authority 
 and influence, to crufli. And fo fuccefsful 
 was this plan of procedure, that during 
 the whole courfe of his refidence in this 
 country, and among many vacant pariflies 
 fuppiied either by his immediate patron- 
 age, or influence, there was not one which 
 did not eventually prove comfortable, mofi 
 
( "5 ) 
 of them from the beginning were accept- 
 able and harmonious. 
 
 As the Earl of KinnouU was a friend to 
 the clergy^ and to the religious interells 
 of the community, fo he zvas a liberal bene- - 
 faclor to the poQr. His private charities 
 were many, fome of them fplendid ; but 
 over this part of his conduct he was care- 
 ful to fpread a veil ; and as few of thefc 
 good deeds as pofhble he fuffered to be 
 known, even by his friends. 
 
 With refped]; to the fupply of the poor 
 in general, he proceeded upon fixed and 
 excellent principles. He judged it a bet- 
 ter fpecies of charity, to prevent^ as far as it 
 could be done, than to relieve neceflities ; 
 he gave encouragement, therefore, to e- 
 very fpecies of ufeful induftry among the 
 poor, and to numbers of them, employ- . 
 ment and bread. 
 
 To common begging he was a decided 
 f nemy ; and to prevent the neceflity of it, 
 always declared that every parilh ought 
 
( ii6 ) 
 
 16 maintain its poor in their own houfes. 
 To affift the feveral parilhes in which his 
 dilates lay, in accompHfliing this objedl, 
 he fent to each of them annually a ftated 
 fum, correfponding to the number of its 
 poor, and the extent of his property. He 
 thought it unreafonable and unjiift, to 
 carry his rents out of a parifli, and leave 
 the whole burden of fupporting the poor 
 upon the tenants ; a pradice too Common 
 in Scotland, where the poor, are in many 
 parifhes, left to be maintained by the con- 
 tributions of their neighbours, fometimes 
 only lefs poor than themfelves. Were 
 Lord KinnouU's principles to be adopted, 
 and his example to be followed, begging 
 would be imknown, poors rates unnecei^ 
 fary, and the poor equitably and fuifici- 
 ently provided for. 
 
 If we view this good man in the Capa- 
 city of a Landholder, conneded with a nu- 
 merous body of tenants, his judgment 
 and prudence will appear no lefs confpi- 
 
{ iiy ) 
 
 puous, than his benevolence and huma* 
 Rity. He proceeded upon the maxim, 
 that to confult the comfort and profperi- 
 ty of his tenants, was the fureft means of 
 promoting his own interefl. He caufed 
 proper plans of agi'iculture to he fuggeft- 
 pd to them, by perfons in whofe flcill he 
 
 had confidence; gave them leafes of a 
 
 proper length and at moderate rents, and 
 built houfes for them in a flile far fime- 
 riour to any that had been ufually given 
 to farmers in that part of the country. 
 He taught theili to refpe^l themfelves as 
 free-born Britons, and to repofe with, 
 unlimited confidence upon their mailer's 
 honour and regard to their interell. 
 
 Under his judicious management, his 
 eftate fpeedily aifumed a new face ; im- 
 provements rapidly advanced^ and his te- 
 nants profpered. Inftead of concealing, 
 they were happy to avo\y to their kind 
 mailer, their improving circumflances, 
 for they knew that no undue advantage 
 
( "8 ) 
 
 would be taken of the knowledge of 
 ^hem. They regarded him as their com- 
 mon father, ever attentive to their fitua-^ 
 tion, an:?i:ious to redrefs their grievances, 
 and to promote their profperity. 
 
 A more particular account of his con- 
 dnO: as a landholder, might afiord much 
 pleaiing, as well as ufeful information, 
 but befides that this is lefs immediately 
 the objedl of tlie Society, it woidd lead 
 to too great prolixity. Suffice it therefore 
 in general to add, that he left to his fuc? 
 ceilor an eftate highly improved, and a 
 mod refpe(ftable fet of tenants, all thrivr 
 ing, and many of them wealthy. 
 
 Their tears, and the deep concern vili-? 
 ble in their countenances, while in filent 
 proceiTion they followed him to the tomb, 
 afforded to beholders a flriking, though 
 melancholy proof, of the place which he 
 had held in their hearts. 
 
 To landholders in general, but particu- 
 larly to proprietors of ext^nfive eftates. 
 
{ ti9 ) 
 
 tlie Earl of Kinnoull, has furniflied by liis 
 example, decided evidence, that to fee with 
 their own eyes the fituation of their te- 
 nants, to hear in perfon their complaints^ 
 to redrefs them when well founded, and 
 in all things to confult their interefl, are 
 the moft infallible means of bringing real 
 and permanent improvement to their pro- 
 perty. 
 
 If we follow this good man into the 
 private fceries of domeflic life, his charac- 
 ter afTumes a ftill more amiably engaging 
 form. 
 
 Having no children of his own bddy, 
 (his only child having died an infant) his 
 paternal afFedlion flowed out in conilant 
 ftreams of tendernefs to his near relations, 
 and the numerous branches of his fa- 
 mily. To all of them his m.anners were 
 afFedlionate, for the fenfibility of his heart 
 was great. 
 
 In the ficknefs or peculiarly diftrefsful fi- 
 tuatmi of fuch of them as lived in his 
 
{ I20 ) 
 
 toufe, his unwearied attentions to their 
 eomfort, marked the dehcacy of his mind, 
 commanded the warmefl; returns of grate- 
 ful affection from them, and excited the 
 admiration of all who had accefs to ob- 
 serve this part of his conduct. It is riot 
 to be wondered, therefore, that his fa- 
 mily and immediate connexions in gene- 
 ral, looked up to him with mingled reve- 
 rence and love. 
 
 But his behaviour to his iiepliew the 
 heir of his title and fortune, (the prefent 
 li,arl of Ivinuoiill) claims a iridre particu- 
 lar notice. Far from regarding him with 
 that jealous feye, with which men advan- 
 ced iri life too bften behold their fuccef- 
 fors, the iate Earl lulifdrmly felt arid ex- 
 prell for b'ls^ the flrongell attachment ; 
 and as the condU(3: of his education in 
 early life, had been the objecl of his 
 uncle's iinxious attention, to^ when grown 
 up to manhood, he aduiitted liirn into ha- 
 bits of the ftricteil intimacy and friend- 
 
( 12. ) 
 
 fhlp; explained to him all his plans of aU 
 teration or improvement, and the princi- 
 ples on which they were foiinded ; con- 
 fulted with him concerning their proprie- 
 ty, and the modes of carrying them into 
 execution. Anxious, at the fame time, 
 about the future welfare of his tenants, 
 while he introduced to them his nephew 
 as their future, mafler, and explained to 
 him their various characfters and circum- 
 flances, he warmly recommended to him 
 that mild and generous plan of conducft 
 towards them which he himfelf had uni- 
 formly obferved. In the latter part of his 
 life, he wifhed his nephew to take the en- 
 tire diredion of his affairs. 
 
 Condudl fo truly generous and parent- 
 al, obtained its natural and juft reward, 
 in the warmell filial afFecftion and reve- 
 rence upon the part of his nephew. As 
 ];io perfon more cordially loved and valu- 
 ed this good man while in life, fo none 
 jnore unaffedledly mourned his death than 
 
( 12- ) 
 
 he who fucceeded to his rank and fortune* 
 In the future condu(5l of that young No- 
 bleman, it is hoped, that his friends and 
 the pubhc will difcern the happy efFe(5ls 
 of thofe excellent principles in which he 
 was in{lru(5ted, and of that worthy exam- 
 ple by which they were enforced. 
 
 As a friend^ the late Earl of KinnouU 
 
 was warm and fteady Though bred a 
 
 courtier, he profeffed no affedlion which 
 he did not feel, and though his language 
 was glowing, it was fincere. Conflant in 
 all his attachments, even in old age he 
 fpoke of his friends with an enthufiafm 
 which would have done credit to the gene- 
 rous feelings of youth. Nothing fave grofs 
 mifbehaviour could alienate his regards 
 from thofe on whom he had beftow^ed 
 them. The ftricftefl integrity, and mod 
 delicate fenfe of honour, appeared in the 
 whole of his intercourfe with all to whom 
 he flood related in any of the connexions 
 of life. 
 
( 1^3 ) 
 
 To his fervants he was a kind maflerj 
 ever attentive to their comfort both in 
 health and ficknefs. He felt the obliga- 
 tion of faithful fervices, and nobly re- 
 Warded them. He knew to whom confi- 
 dence was due, and never indulged fuf^ 
 picion. And fuch was the general mild- 
 nefs and generolity of his condu6l to his 
 domeftics, that to be difmiffed his fervice 
 was ever regarded by them as the fevereft 
 punifhment. 
 
 From the variety of important or inte- 
 t'efcing obje(5ls which conftantly folicited- 
 aud engaged hivS attention, it was impof- 
 fible that time could hang heavy on his 
 hands. To liftleiTnefs and languor, the 
 common attendants of wealth and great- 
 ncfs, he was a (Iranger. His mind natu- 
 rally adive, and habituated to employ- 
 ment, was ever direc?:ed to fomething re- 
 quiring thought or exertion; to every hour 
 was ailigned its proper employment, and 
 in confequenee of a flrici: and perfevering 
 
 OJj 
 
( 1^4 ) 
 arrangement, the quantity of buiiriefs 
 which he difpatched, was great. Though 
 liberal of his inoney, he was a rigid ceco- 
 nomifl of his time. 
 
 Advanced age and growing infirmities 
 interrupted not in him the duties of the 
 man and the Chriftian; unavoidable evils 
 lie fullained with pious refignation, and 
 as it pleafed God to continue with him 
 his intellectual powers unimpaired, to the 
 very concluiion of life, his courfe of ac- 
 tive benevolence fcarcely fuftered an in- 
 terruption. The iafl acls of his life were 
 thofe of friendfliip and charity. 
 
 From theTe imperfect fetches may be 
 formed an idea of the characfter of this 
 truly good man. To lum it up in a few 
 words, his piety was exalted, his bene- 
 volence large, his charity extenfive, his 
 converfation chaile and edifying, his man- 
 ners exemplary. In his vmole deport-^ 
 luPiit were fcen, the dignity of the No- 
 
( m ) 
 
 bleman, the learning of the Scholar, and 
 the virtue of the Chriftian. 
 
 The approaches of death, long forefeen 
 and familiar to his mind, he beheld with 
 ferenity and fortitude, for his confidence 
 relied upon that foundation which he 
 knew death itfelf could not Ihake. No 
 words can do fo much juftice to his fen- 
 timents upon this fubjecl as his own. 
 They were expreft to the Author of the 
 preceding Sermon, in courfe of a long 
 and ferious converfation upon the fubjecl 
 of it, a ihort while before his death. As 
 the general theme was of his recommen- 
 dation, fo he fpecified fome of the parti- 
 cular topics which he willied to be intro- 
 duced in it, particularly the doctrine of 
 the atonement. 
 
 ^'' I have always confidered the a- 
 " tonement of Chrift," laid he, " to 
 " be characSleriflical of the gofpel as a 
 " fyilem of religion. Strip it of that 
 ** dodrine, and you reduce it to a fcheme 
 
( 126 ) 
 
 ^' of morality, excellent indeed, and fuch 
 
 " as the world never faw, but to man in 
 
 *' the prefent ftate of his faculties, abfo- 
 
 ** lutely impracTricable. The atonement 
 
 *' of Chrift, and' the truths immediately 
 
 *' conneded with that fundamental prin- 
 
 *' ciple, provide a remedy for all the 
 
 *' wants and weaknefTes of our nature. 
 
 *' They who drive to remove thefe preci- 
 
 *' ous dodlrines from the word of God, 
 
 *' do an irreparable injury to the grand 
 
 *' and beautiful fyftcm of religion which 
 
 *' it contains, as well as to the comfort 
 
 *' and hopes of man. For my own pai'i^ 
 
 " I am now an old man, and have expe- 
 
 " perienced the infirmities of advanced 
 
 *^ years. Of late, in the courfe of fevere 
 
 " and dangerous illnefs, I have been re- 
 
 *' peatedly brought to the gates of death. 
 
 " My time in this world cannot now be 
 
 *' long. But with truth I can declare, 
 
 " that in midft of all my pad afflictions, 
 
 " my heart vv^as fapported and comforted. 
 
( >27 ) 
 
 " by a firm reliance upon tlie merits ana 
 " atonement of mv Saviour ; and now in 
 " the near profpect of entering upon an 
 " eternal world, this is the foundation, 
 " and the only foundation of my confi- 
 " dence and hope." 
 
 In thefe fentiments he fleadily perfe- 
 Vered till the concluhon of the fcene. Hi§ 
 lad iilncfs continued but a few days, it 
 was a wafting and decline of nature, 
 unattended with pain. On the 27'^'^- De- 
 cember 1 787, without a druggie, or groan, 
 or change of countenance, he expired. 
 
 " MARK THE PERFECT MAN AND BE* 
 
 <( 
 
 HOLD THE upright: FOR THE END OV' 
 *' THAT MAN IS PEACE.'* 
 
THE 
 
 PRESIDENT, DIRECTORS, AND OFFICERS, 
 
 OF THE 
 
 SOCIETY, FOR THE YEAR I 788. 
 
 EARL OF LEVEN, PRESIDENT OF THE SOCIETY. 
 Committee of Directors. 
 
 The Earl of Hopeton Prefident of the 
 
 Committee. 
 Mr John Gloag Merchant hi Edinburgh. 
 Rev. John Erfkine, D. D. Edinburgh. 
 Rev. VV iUiam Gloag, D. D. Edinburgh. 
 Robert M'Intofli, Efq; Advocate. 
 Mr Ifaac Grant, Clerk to the Signet. 
 Mr Horatius Cannon, Clerk to the Signet. 
 Rev. John Kemp, Edinburgh. 
 Rev. Thomas Randal, Edinburgh. 
 Mr Andrew Hamilton. 
 Mr John Moncrieff. 
 Rev. William Paul, St. Cuthberts. 
 Mr Alex. Duncan, Clerk to the Signet. 
 John Dickfon, Efq; Advocate. 
 Mr John Pitcairn, Merchant. 
 
 R 
 
( 130 ) 
 
 Officers of the Society. 
 
 Rev. John M'Farlan, D. D. Secretary. 
 
 "William Galloway,Efq; Merchant in Edin- 
 burgh, Comptroller. 
 
 Robert Chalmers, Efq; Accomptant-Gene- 
 ral of Excife, Accomptant. 
 
 John Davidfon, Efqj Writer to the Signet, 
 Treafurer. 
 
 James Bonar, Clerk. 
 
 Archibald Lundie, Writer to the Signet, 
 Bookholder. 
 
 M.Gray, front of the Exchange, Bookfellen 
 
 Mungo Watfon, Beadle, 
 
 Annual and other Bencf anions are received by 
 the following Perfons* 
 
 In Edinburgh, 
 By John Davidfon, Efq; Writer to the Sig-^ 
 . net, Treafurer to the Society. 
 
( >3i ) 
 
 In London, 
 By Thomas Coutts, Efq; Banker in the 
 Strand. 
 John M'Intofli, Efq; N^ 8, North fidq 
 of the Royal Exchange, Secretary to 
 the Society. 
 ^ William Fuller, Efq; and Son, Bankers, 
 Lombard-Street. 
 
 Fonn of a Bequejl or Legacy, 
 
 Itcm^ I give and bequeath the fum of 
 to the Society in Scotland 
 for Propagating Chriftian Knowledge, to 
 be applied [K.o the purpofes of the firft or 
 fecond patent, as the donor pleafes.) See 
 both patents, p. 54 and 59, of the account 
 of the Society, publifhed in May 1 774. 
 
 Those who may be pleafed to favour 
 ^his Society with Bequefls or Legacies, arq 
 
( 132 ) 
 
 iiitreated to exprefs their intention in tlidi 
 very words above diredled ; and particu-^ 
 larly to take care that the words, in Scot- 
 land, be not omitted. 
 
 N. B. The uncommon length of the 
 Sermon and Appendix, having already ex- 
 tended this publication to a confiderable 
 lize, it was judged proper to omit the ufual 
 Annual Account of the Schools in the So- 
 ciety's fer vice; but this, with other par- 
 ticulars reipecfling the Society, will foon 
 be given to the public in a feparate publi- 
 cation. 
 
 tHE END*. 
 
*> 
 
 n 
 

 
 
 .^.♦.-IM- ■^, .^ 
 
 • :...^iHU«^*'*'^^''' ; 
 
 1 ■■•■;£ '.i;: 
 
 Jt-'*^#^'>,. 
 
 .^t^i^Ai^^saiiULj;^. 
 
 '':4:^.^&^ii^!^