HI 1, <^ BX 9815 .W36 18A6 v. 4 Ware, Henry, 1794-18A3. The works of Henry Ware, jr THE WORKS / HENRY WARE, JR., D. D VOL. IV. BOSTON : JAMES MUNROE AND COMPANY. LONDON . JOHN CHAPMAN, 121 NEWGATE STREET. 1S47. Kntered accordiiijT to Act of Congress, in the year 1SJ7, by Makv L Ware, in the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the Disuricl oi' Massachusetts. STEREOTYPKO AT 'PHK BOSTON TYPE AMD STBREOTVPF. POUNnHY. SERMONS HENRY WARE, JR., D. D. VOL. IL TO WIIICII ARE ADDED HIS WOKK ON THE FORMATION OF THE CHRISTIAN CHARACTER, AND HIS SEQUEL TO THE SAME, NOW FIRST PUBLISHED. NEW EDITION. BOSTON: J A M E S M U N R O R A \ D CO M 1' ANY. LONDON: JOHN' ril.M'MAV, 121 NEWGATE STKEET. 18 41). Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1847. bv Mary L. Wake, in the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the District of Massachusetts. STERKOTYPED AT THE BOSTON TYPE AND 3TE11E0TYPE KOUNDRY. ADVERTISEMENT This volume of Mr. Ware's Works contains his sermons on the Character and Offices of Christ, which were originally published by himself in a separate volume ; a selection from his sermons preached at Ordinations ; two Historical Discourses at the comple- tion of the first century of the New Brick Church ; a Farewell Address to the members of the Second Church and Society ; his work on the Formation of the Christian Character ; and his Sequel to the same, left unfinished at the time of his df Apollos, and I of Cephas," is still a cry too frequently heard. Faith is yet established on the specu- lations of fallible men, and the salvation of the soul rested on the teaching of human wisdom. This is an error frequently and pointedly censured by Jesus and his apostles. It is virtually, though not profess- edly, a renunciation of his authority, a rejection of his rule, a rebellion against his government. The man who surrenders his judgment to the dictation of other men, in- gtead of appealing to the written word of Christ's instruc- tion, and the church which fetters itself by articles drawn up in language which man's wisdom teaches, instead of walking in the wide liberty of the charter of God's truth, have laid another foundation than that wliicli is laid, and are obnoxious to heavy rebuke. 4 CHEIST THE FOU^■DATION. 2. In the next place, Christ is the only foundation, be- cause the Christian religion rests on his authority. He is its prime and only sufficient Teacher. The religion is to be learned from him, and to his word the final appeal must be made. No representations of what it is, or of what it teaches, are to be trusted, except so far as they are per- ceived to be conformable to his own, as uttered in his life, and recorded by his evangelists, or illustrated by his apostles. The wisdom of man is an uncertain and insufficient guide. For Christianity is not something to be discovered by us, but is a revelation from heaven, sent for our accept- ance, concerning which we have nothing to do, but to study and receive it. It affords no scope for invention or dis- covery. We may not add to it, nor take from it. We may speculate concerning it, but may not affix our speculations as a part of it. And if we receive the alterations or addi- tions, which are found in the traditions of the church or the books of its teachers, we may be sure that we receive error. For the greatest corruption in doctrine and murals prevailed when the teachers had hidden the Bible, and set up tradition and authority in its stead ; when they placed themselves in the seat of Jesus, and men obeyed them in- stead of him. In this way, the true light, which ought always to have been set like a city on a hill, was hidden, as it were, under a bushel, and an almost pagan darkness over- shadowed the world — a darkness visible and heavy — a darkness that was "felt" — which was scattered only by uncovering the light of God's holy Word, and restoring the forgotten ascendency of Jesus Christ. The teaching of Jesus must be regarded as the fountain of Christian truth. The instructions of others are but streams flowing from it ; some nearer the source, and some CHfttST TUE FOUNDATION. 5 Wtire distant from it, hut all likely to he more or less affected hy the character of the channel which conveys them, and the soil through which they pass. Even the words of the apostles are not to be taken before those of Christ ; for to them the Spirit was given by measure, to him " without measure." The treasure in them was in " earthen vessels," and they " knew but in part." The Spirit preserved them from injurious errors in communicat- ing and recording the truth ; but still they are not to be put on a level with their infallible Master, nor their epistles to be esteemed and admired beyond his discour.ses. They wrote for particular churches, on .special occasions, often- times on subjects of temporary interest and questions of controversy, now settled and forgotten ; atid this it is which makes some passages in their writings so hard to be under- stood. Jesus, on the other hand, though adaptiiig him.sclf to present circumstances, yet had in general a wider refer- ence to all who should in any age believe on him. He was l.iying the foundation of a temple for all people, while the tlisciples were building upon it for particular communities. Hence he is more easily and generally understood, and his t^'iching is more universally applicable. Not that the epis- tles are to be in any degree undervalued ; for there are lirge portions of them still of universal and most important application. I only mean, we are to bear it in mind that he i^ the Master of the apostles, no less than of ourselves ; and that we are safest in deriving the first principles of our faith from his own lips and life, and then interpreting the apos- tles accordingly. And this is our duty ; not only because, as I said, he is our Master, and not they, but because, also, a great part of the perplexing and unhappy consequences arising from unintelligible and superstitious doctrine, and from misapprehension of Scripture, have sprung from this 6' CHEIST THE FOUNDATION. very source — the leaning on the apostles, instead of on Jesus ; the learning Christianity from their obscure discus- sions of particular questions at Rome, or Corinth, or Gala- tia, instead of taking it from the plain exposition of their Master, who spoke for the edification of all men, in all ages, and under all circumstances. We shall avoid a great evil by going directly to him, first of all. We are, indeed, to build " on the foundation of the prophets and the ajwstles ; " but let no man forget that Christ is the " chief corner- stone," and that it is in him* that "the building, being fitly framed together, is enabled to become a holy temj)le, ac- ceptable to God." 3. Again, Jesus Christ may be considered as the founda- tion, because to believe in him as the predicted Messiah is the fundamintal article of the Christian faith. This is important to be remarked, because it presents an answer to an inquiry often made, in which all are interested — " What doctrine is to be regarded as truly fundamental and essential ? " The manner in which our text is worded fairly suggests a reply. The term Christ, as is well known, is not the name of the person, but the title of office. It indicates the station or character, and is equivalent to the Messiah, or the Anointed. The proper name of our Lord's person is Jesus ; by which he is designated throughout the evangelists. The official title, Christ, did not become a proper name until after the resurrection ; for until then the great unde- cided question among his countrymen was, whether he were truly the Christ or not. It wa3 the belief that he was so which distin;jiiishod his disciples from tlie other Jews, and tliey accordingly called him Jesus, the Christ — the Mes- * Eph. ii. '2\. The pronoun in tlu- original is in the singular number — n u>. CHRIST THE FOUNDATION. 7 si.'ih — the Anointed ', from which use it readily passed into a name, as in our text, and throuirhout the epistles. Tlie primary importance of this article of faith, thus demonstrated by its becoming inseparably associated with the very name of the Savior, points it out to us as the fun- damental article of the Christian's belief All the other truths and doctrines of the Christian system grow out of this and rest upon it. Upon this depend the authority of tiie Master and the allegiance of the disciples. While this stands, those remain. If this be removed, they fall. A slight glance at the history of the New Testament coiitirnis this position. The Messiah had been predicted by many of the prophets, and his coming was anxiously awaited by the Jewish people. At the time of our Lord's appearance, the expectation had become general and impa- tient. Men thronged around him, *' musing in their hearts whether this were the Christ or not." The chief people sent messengers to inquire, and they put the question to himself — " Tell us plainly, art thou the Christ ? " This was the great controversy between the believers and the Jews. Upon the decisi• Xoioiw. 64 JESUS THE MEDIATOR, him, and influenced by the devout dispositions which he requires; "through him," because through the directions he has given for acceptable prayer, and the encouragement he has offered to sincere worshipers ; " in his name," be- cause by his authority, confiding in his warrant, commanded and invited by him, members of that family wliich he ha3 brought nigh to God, and given access to the throne. That this is the general sense of these expressions, will be rendered obvious by observing how they are used in other instances. The Levites blessed the people, and Israel went out to battle, " in the name of the Lord; " that is, very evidently, by his authority and direction, by faith in him. The proph- ets spake "in the name of the Lord;" and our Savior says, " I am come in my Father's name ; " plainly meaning, by his authority and direction, receiving from him their commission. So the apostles preached and wrought mir- acles " in the name of Jesus; " by his authority, under his commission, by faith in him. So they commanded the believers " to do all things in the name of the Lord Jesus; " that is, in compliance with his authority, and conformably to the spirit of his religion. To pray " in his name," is one of the things they were to do, and must have a similar interpretation. It is to pray by his authority, according to his instructions, by faith in him, in the character and with the spirit of his disciples. It is not uncommon in the Scriptures to use the name of a person for his doctrine or religion. Thus it is said, " Moses is preached every Sabbath day ;" meaning the reli- gion of Moses. " We preach Christ," meaning the religion of Christ. We are said " to put on Christ," " to be in Christ," " to profess Christ," and a multitude of similar JESUS THE MEDIATOR. Oo phrases ; by which is intended that we are to embrace, to adopt, to profess, the religion of Christ. So, also, in the instance of prayer through Christ, we may understand throu<^h his religion, or doctrine: since it is entirely through the influence of his religion, its instructions, directions, en- couragements, and promises, that we are enabled to worship God acceptably. It is these which prepare our minds, and lead us to the mercy-seat. We approach, because the instructions which Jesus has given, and on which our faith relies, guide us thither ; that is to say, as before, we come as his disciples, tinder his authority, and by faith in him. It is this coming in the character of his disciples which gives us hope that we shall be heard ; and this hope or expectation is well founded, just in proportion as we are truly his disciples, and pray fervently in his faith. There is no charm in the words, no talisman in the forms we utter, no mysterious eflicacy by which they force their way up- ward, from whatever heart they may rise. We might as well pray in the name of Mahomet, as in that of Christ, if we do not pray as disciples of Christ — not nominally and outwardly, but heartily and consistently, as his disciples. It is in this circumstance that we are to trCist, and not in the belief that Jesus seconds every prayer, and carries it to the Father. For he expressly says, " Ye shall ask in my name ; and I say not unto you, that I will pray the Father for you ; " that is, it is not from this circumstance that you are to take encouragement ; you are not to depend for acceptance on my intercession; — and he adds, "For my Father himself loveth you, because ye have loved me, and have believed (hat I came out from God." Here he states availing prayer in his name to be that which comes from those who love him, and have faith in him ; that is, from his disciples ; not 56 JESUS THE MEDIATOR. that which trusts for acceptance to his interposition only ; for fully as that intercession may be offered for the faithful, it is nowhere promised to the insincere. So also says the apostle John, " Whatsoever we ask we receive of him, because we keep his commandments, and do those things which are pleasing in his sight ; " which likewise conducts us to the same conclusion — that prayer, in the consistent character of disciples, is that prayer in his name which meets acceptance and blessing. In this sense it is that the mediation of Christ opens the way of access to God. And in this doctrine, as there is evidently an admonition for the presumptuous, so there is encouragement for the humble and distrustful. For how abundantly have the instructions, the aids, the invitations of a kind and compassionate God been spread forth, to make the way to his mercy-seat accessible and free, and to remove all impediments which might obstruct or alarm. How gra- ciously has the Mediator toiled, how earnestly entreated, how willingly suffered, that the path of promise might not be hidden, and that none of God's offspring might leave the way of life for lack of a cheering voice or an assisting arm! So eminently is the gospel a system of grace ! And O, with what devout gratitude should we contemplate this evi- dence of it ! Weak, ignorant, sinful, in our best desires and purest offerings, and therefore oftentimes dreading to approach directly to Him who is infinitely pure, and " cannot look on sin," how consoling is it to know, that there is one to offer encouragement and hope, and lead us tenderly by the hand to our Father's feet ; one who himself has shared our infirmities, and can therefore pity them ; who has him- self borne our weakness, and endured temptations, though without sin ; and who, gentle and forbearing, " breaks not JESUS THE .MEDIATOR. 57 tlie bruised reed, nor quenches tlie smoking flax," and utters no accents to the humble and believing, but those of en- couragement and peace ! Brethren, let us remember this in our prayers ; let us be irnboldened and consoled by it in our apprehensions and despondency. " Seeing that we have this great High Priest, Jesus, the Son of God, let us hold fast our profession, and come boldly to the throne of grace, that we may obtain mercy, aiid find grace to help in time of need." SERMON V JESUS THE SAVIOR. MATTHEW I. 21. AND THOU SHALT CALL HIS NAME JESUS ; FOR HE SHALL SAVE HIS PEOPLE FROM THEIR SINS. It was a custom among the Israelites, of which frequent examples are recorded in their sacred books, to bestow upon their children significant names, intimating either the feel- ings of the parent, or the circumstances of the birth, or the character and destiny of the offspring. Such are all the names in the patriarchal history ; some of which, as those of Israel and Sarah, were changed in commemoration of some epoch in their lives, or to mark their altered fortunes. It is further observable, respecting this custom, that the name was often framed by a combination of one of the names of God. Thus Isaiah means the salvation of the Lord ; Elisha, salimtion of God; Elijah, God the Lord, or the strong Lord; Elihu, he is my God himself; Lemuel, God with thrm ; and a child, given as a pledge of deliver- ance to Judah in the reign of Ahaz, was called Immanuel, \.\ni\s, God with us. As this prophecy was also applied to the Messiah, he is on that occasion once called Immauud ; intimatincr that, by his residence among men, the presence JESUS THE SAVIOR. 59 of God would be particularly manifest. There can be no ground, then, for the opinion, that this name implies a divine nature in Jesus, as if the very God, literally and personally, came to abide with us. For, as we see, this application of the name of God to men was a common thirjg ; and if Christ's being once called Immanud could argue that he was truly God, a man's being always called Elijah, Elihu, or Lemuel, would no less certainly prove him to be truly God. It was in liis case, as in the others, a significant name, and not an assertion of personal divinity. The name Jesus is also one of appropriate significancy. It means Savior. It intimates the deliverance which he was sent to accomplish. It designates the sense in which he was to bless the world. Thus his very name is a memo- rial of his oflice ; so that we cannot speak of him without l>eing reminded both of the honor which he had from God, and tiie blessing which he brought to men. We call him Christ, the anointed of God ; Jesus, the Savior of mm. It is in the character of a Savior that we are to consider him at this time; in doing which, we may follow the sug- gestion of our text, and inquire, under three heads, 1. Whom he is to save; 2. From what he is to save ; 3. How he is to save; Or, in other words, we shall speak of the subjects, the nature, and the method of the salvation which he came to effect. 1. We are to consider trhom he is to save. Our text says, " He shall save his people." Who are to be under- stood by this designation ? If we reflect for a moment on the circumstances under which the Messiali came, we shall perceive that the Jewish nation is primarily intended. This had been eminently dis- GO JESUS THE SAVIOR. tinguished as God's people, having enjoyed for ages the peculiar manifestations of liis favor. Prophets from God had spoken of the time when his grace should visit them with yet higher glory, in a prince and deliverer of the house of David, whose splendid reign was always described in closest connection with their destinies. To them, accord- ingly, his mission was addressed. He came not to the Gen- tiles, but to the lost sheep of Israel. Among them, and for them, his personal labors were devoted. For them his prayers and tears were given to the last moment of his life. It was only when they had rejected his gospel with incurable obstinacy, that his apostles were directed to carry its mes- sage to other nations. " It was necessary," as Paul said, " that this word of God should first be spoken to them." It was therefore fitting that he should be announced as the Savior of " his people ; " and this the rather, as their de- liverance, which was the first object, shall be the final effect of his ministry. That alienated and broken family shall be brought back to its inheritance, and " all Israel be saved." This, however, is not a sufiicient answer to our inquiry ; for salvation is not confined to this people. We accord- ingly find it written, that " he came to seek and to save that which was lost." Who are intended by this term? How lost ? By what means, and in what way, lost ? The answer is, lost in sin ; strayed away from obedience and goodness ; lost therefore to happiness. As the younger son, who de- parted from his father's house, and became a wretched vag- abond in a strange land, is on that account described as " lost," so they who have forsaken God's paternal presence and serviQe, and lived in thoughtless and vicious habits of disobedience, till the peace of virtue is gone, and the misery of sin overtakes them, are also said to be " lost." And how JESUS THE SAVIOR. (il truly said ! lost to duty, and therefore to happiness ! lost, tlieir peace of mind, their serenity of conscience, honor, comfort, and hope ; strangers to liis presence who made tliem ; rebels against his grace who loves them; and — if they will not arise and come to their Father, who is ready to welcome their returning and contrite steps — perishing with the famine of the soul, and lost forever. These are the objects of the Savior's compassionate search. " This is a faithful saying, and worthy of all acceptation, that Christ Jesus came into the world to save sinners." lie is also said to be " the Savior of the world." For the world it.self was lost. The knowledge and worship of the true God was gone from it. Men groped after the way of acceptance and truth, but could not find it. Religion, the true mistress of human virtue and happiness, had been thrust aside, and bloody Superstition and impure Idolatry reigned in her stead. " Darkness covered the earth, and gross darkness the people," and sin and misery ruled tri- umphant over the world which God had formed for happi- ness and goodness. Then it was that "the Father sent the Son to be the Savior of the world" — sunk, as it was, in hopeless corruption, from which human wisdom had .striven to raise it in vain. It was an object alone worthy of divine interposition. If mankind had been incorrupt in religion and morals, there had been no occasion for a special messen- ger from heaven, no necessity for his supernatural light, for his instructions in righteousness, for the motives to repent- ance which he furnished, for the solemn warnings which he published, for the holy promises which he proclaimed, for the offers of pardon which he brought. Men might have been ignorant and barbarous, and subjected to all the miseries of this transitory state ; yet if they had been holy, worshipers of God, righteous among men, where could 6 62 JESUS THE SAVIOK. have been the call for the labors and sacrifices of an ambas- sador of God ? It was only because the world was lying in wickedness, and men were dead in trespasses and sins, that God sent forth his Son with the dispensation of truth and grace. And to whom was this dispensation addressed ? To all that have need of it ; to all that are " lost ; " to " the world; " to all men. There is no exception, no limitation. The gracious proclamation speaks indiscriminately to all, and offprs a rich, impartial, unbounded provision for the guidance and redemption of the world. 2. We were to consider, in the next place, the nature of this salvation, or from what Jesus is to save. " He shall save his people from their sins." This is in perfect conformity with the remarks already made. The great root of evil and wretchedness is sin^ and its prevalence is the only cause which renders a Savior necessary. Freedom from sin is freedom from all essential ill. With this, also, the language of Scripture strikingly corresponds. It represents salvation to consist in the re- moval of sin and its consequences, and the substitution in its place of holiness, with its happy consequences and last- ing rewards. Jesus came " to put away sin ; " " to give repentance and remission of sins ; " " to bless in turning away every one from his iniquities ; " " to redeem from all iniquity, and purify unto himself a peculiar people, zealous of good works." This is the constant language of the New Testament, which no man can read without the per- suasion that a moral regeneration, a deliverance from the power of sin, and perfection in purity and holiness, is the purpose to be etfected by tlie gospel ; that in this consists its salvation, commencing upon earth, and consunnnated in the glory and bliss of eternity. A strict adherence to the language of the Scriptures on JESUS THE SAVIOR. 6^ this point will keep us from the error of imagining that the evil from which Jesus saves is the curse of man's original condition, the fearful destiny in which he is involved by nature. Now, it is not only perfectly inconceivable that a benevolent being should have subjected his creatures to such a mi-serable fate i)rior to their sinning, or even to their existing ; but, which is more to the purpose, the sacred writers perpetually teach that the misery to be saved from is that of sin, not of natural condition; that the wrath to be escaped is that which visits their own transgressions, not that which awaits them because they are men, or to which they are naturally subjected. They speak of no evil prior to or greater than that of sin. They speak of no curse antecedent to this, or independent of it. And they propose to save fronj this as the grand, the essential, the all-com- prehensive ill, leading to infinite consequences of wretched- ness and despair. We are very ready to suppose that the work of redemp- tion is some expedient for getting rid of the punishment due to sin — as if that were of all things the most to be de- sired ; and thence we are easily led to persuade ourselves that we may so take advantage of the work which has been wrought as to escape the punishment, though we may not have relinquished the sin. Thus, to avoid the penalty, and yet enjoy the transgression, has always been a chief object of false religions; and men would fain believe that it has been accomplished in the true. But let us not be deceived. No such preposterous compromise has been made. It is inconsistent with all that we have been taught, either by experience or religion. For what says experience? The penalty of sin often continues to visit the sinner long after he has repented and reformed. The impiety, indiscretion, and vices of youth, for example, are followed with sufferino- 64 JESUS THE SAVIOR. and shame through life, and burden the memory with bitter thoughts as long as reflection lives. But it would not be so if the grand design were simply to provide an escape from punishment, or to devise some means of abolishing it. In this case, all such suffering must have been done away at once. Let us not, then, be deceived. Even the assurance of pardon is no assurance that the consequences of trans- gression shall be altogether removed. For what says the Scripture? " Thou wast a God that forgavest them, though thou tookest vengeance on their iniquities." And if we inquire of religion, as taught either by nature or by revelation, what is it, in strict truth, which God designs especially to promote by his government and his dispensations ? Happiness ? Yes, unquestionably. But how ? Happiness only 1 at any rate ? of any description ? If so, there were no need of laws and restraints, and moral means, and institutions of discipline and instruction; for he might by the arbitrary appointments of his will lavish it abundantly on liis creatures. But surely it is not so. Being a holy God, whose abhorrence of sin is equal to his desire of happiness, and in whose view there is no true happiness where there is riot holiness, he, therefore, makes holiness the primary object of his government, and the moral perfection of his offspring the favorite purpose of his dispensations. Nothing will answer in the place of this. . He cannot be satisfied by some plausible device for remit- ting punishment, nor by shifting it off upon some other than the transgressor, nor even by arbitrarily excluding all suf- fering from his universe. It is not suffering, but sin, wliich he would exterminate ; lie could esteem no salvation accom- plished for his children, until this principle of all evil is itself utterly eradicated. Let us not, then, be deceived in regard to the nature of JESUS THE SAVIOR. fi6 this salvation. It is not the abolition of punishment, but of sin. As when a man is saved from a disease, it is by re- moving the disease, — that is, by curing him of it, — so he is saved from his sins by being rid of them. It would avail little to deliver the sick man from his pangs, if his disorder were still unrelieved, and bearing him down imperceptibly to the grave; and it would avail little to deliver the sinner from punishment, and the sufferings which follow in the train of vice, if his evil dispositions were left unrebuked ; for while he remains a moral being, he may choose for himself what happiness he pleases ; yet if he cannot relish that of virtue, he will find no content. Let his fetters be stricken off, let the fire be quenched, and the gnawing worm be dead ; open to him the rich paradise of heaven, and give him place among tlie obedient and holy worship- ers around the throne of God ; yet if he have not been redeemed from sin, nor his affections reclaimed from its love, there is no beauty nor bliss for him there ; but he wanders among them a discontented stranger, self-torment- ing and solitary, without companion, enjoyment, or home; his depraved habits and corrupted taste rendering insipid and loathsome the light and felicity of eternity. 3. We were to consider, in the third place, the manner in which this salvation is effected; or hotv Jesus saves from sin. The main point to be insisted upon under this hend is, that the character of the means must be conformable to that of the end to be gained. The end to be gained, as we have just seen, is a moral salvation. Our Lord must con- scqiiently have employed moral means. The mi.sery from which man is to be delivered, originates in and depends upon the wrong state of his mind and affections. It is to be removed, it can be removed, by no arbitrary appoint- G* 66 JESUS THE SAVIOR. ments of place or condition, by no exertion of absolute power, like the striking off of chains at a blow. It can be only by the operation of spiritual and moral remedies, suited to the spiritual and moral malady, which shall act gradually on the spirit, and restore it to health, vigor, and virtue. The Christian dispensation is a provision of means for the regeneration of free, intelligent, voluntary agents, existing in a state of probation. Now, it is essential to the nature of such beings, in such a state, that they be subjected to a moral government, and be influenced through a moral pro- cess. If it were otherwise, then He who desires the salva- tion of all, and has evinced that desire by the costly appa- ratus of his dispensations from the beginning of the world, need only to have spoken the word, and all would have been changed at once into holy and happy beings. Eut this has not been done, because it would be inconsistent with their very nature ; would defeat the very purpose of probation ; would put an end to their moral agency, and convert them into merely mechanical instruments, incapable of either choosing or attaining virtue. Designing, therefore, to treat them agreeably to the nature which he has bestowed upon them, and which he would not change nor contradict, he has instituted corresponding means of salvation. He has not sent his Son to touch them with a wand, to re-create them by some inexplicable and unparticipated operation, like a spell or charm ; but to " sanctify them through the truth," to "justify them through faith," to regenerate them " by the word of God." It is plain, then, that there is nothing either arbitrary or compulsory in the gospel dispensation, j Sidvation is offered to men, but not forced upon them. It is left to depend upon the use which is made of those privileges and aids rtSPS THE SAVIOR. 67 \«rhich the grace of God has bestowed. It is thus entirely conditional. It is dependent on every man's free choice. If lie will go into the ark, lo, it is open, and there is room enough ; but he is not compelled to go in. The waters of life flow by him in copious and inviting streams ; if he will come and take them, he shall live forever; but let him act his own pleasure; there is no constraint. The table of heaven is spread, and urgent invitations are sent abroad, and a joyous welcome awaits those who will be guests. But it rests with themselves to accept or refuse. Jesus has thrown wide the doors of everlasting day, and poured a strong light on the true path of peace. He has placed him- self at its entrance, to invite, and urge, and warn men — by their allegiance to God, by the miseries of their present condition, by the welfare of their souls, by the inconceiv- able glories of heaven — to pursue the way of holiness and life. He has offered them guidance, direction, aid, and blessing. They need but come to him, and they shall have life. - It is thus that salvation is by grace. Grace provides the mrnns. Sinful and undeserving man, by an act of essential benignity, by the unmerited favor of divine love, is put in the condition to escape from sin, and reach the bliss of heaven. It is a general provision for the human race ; not a plan for the recovery of a selected few, nor a favor be- stowed upon individuals ; but an impartial offer of mercy to all — which offer having been made, and the opportunity having been given, each one is then, separately, to " work out his own salvation with fear and trembling."! The grace of God makes the most ample and munificent provision, even, as it were, tlie wings of an angel for his flight up- ward ; but if he will not stretch them and rise, it sends down no chariot of fire to bear away his reluctant soul. 68 JEStrS THE SAVIOR. I do not know that this portion of the subject needs fur- ther illustration ; but we may readily find it by recurring to the history of the Old Testament. The expressions which are applied to the Christian salvation were also ap- plied to the deliverance of the Israelites from bondage in Egypt. They were said to be "redeemed" and "saved," and the name given to their leader into Canaan was that of Savior. Joshua is the same name as Jesus. Now that people were "saved" and "redeemed" through the mi- raculous means of salvation which God with a strong hand brought to them, and by their using those means according to his commandments. He redeemed them, not by literally paying any ransom to their masters, nor by providing sub- stitutes in their stead, nor by offering in any way an equiv- alent for their service ; but by opening for them a way of escape, through which they might pass to freedom and inde- pendence, and guiding them in it by his presence and power. So does he save us through Jesus Christ — by opening to us a free path of escape from sin and misery, and guiding and aiding us in it, through the perils of life, to our heavenly home. These cases illustrate one another. In each the gracious power of God opened the way and provided the means ; and in each, man must walk in the way and use the means ; else, instead of inheriting the blessing, he perishes in the wilderness. But what are the means of salvation which Jesus has thus instituted ? They are, in one word, the revelation which he lias made of the doctrines and promises of true religion, and whatever provision exists for perpetuating and promoting its influence. Divine truth is the great instru- ment of regeneration and sanctification. Every circumstance in the communication of this which tends to insure its effi- cacy, is part of that great system of means by which Jesus JESITS THE SAVIOR. 69 Would operate for the redemption of man. The ministry and death of our Lord himself, the recorded word of the New Testament, tlie establishment of teaciiers and a church, the institutions of worship, preaching, and ordinances, the arguments which convince the understanding, the com- mandments which control the conduct, the motives which j>ersuade the will and subdue the passions, the entreaties wiiicli move the aiTections, the warnings which assail the fears and the promises which elevate the hopes, all being adapted by a moral operation to lead men to faith, repent- ance, and iioliness, are to be regarded as constituting a vast and universal system of means, which Christ was sent to establish, to maintain, and to superintend; which operates uniformly and uninterruptedly, like the sun, and air, and dew upon the natural creation; always active and fertiliz- ing, but needing the cooperation of human labor for their complete and best effect. The efficacy of these means is essentially promoted by their association with the personal labors and sufferings of Him who died to establish them among men. By that pain- ful but voluntary death, he gave the most solemn proof of the intiuite value of his work. He exhibited the most dis- interested evidence of his own earnestness and love. He made the most affecting manifestation of the strength of the divine abhorrence of sin, and of the greatness of the divine compassion for man. It was thus provided, that, if any had been unaffected by his teaching, unintluenced by his example, unmoved by the wonders of his life, and the holv tenderness and zeal with which he had devoted him- eelf for them, they might at least be touched whon they should see him pouring out his soul for them in deatii, and so be won by his crofis. And with how many has it proved 70 JESUS THE SAVIOR. so! They have resisted all his teaching, persuasion, and entreaty; they have been able to see, without emotion, the beauty of his spotless life, and his laborious benevolence. But when they were brought to his cross, and saw that he was not only willing to teach and rule them, but with unparalleled love to die for them, they have been able to resist no longer. Their hard hearts have melted. Their proud spirits have yielded. In the moment of tenderness, they have abjured their sins, and resolved to live unto Him " who loved them and gave himself for them." Is it thus that we have applied to ourselves the rich grace of the gospel ? Have we thus felt the power of its motives and laws, and surrendered our souls to the influence of its holy and benevolent spirit ? Have we experienced the worth of the doctrines and promises of a gracious Savior ? That we need all this, how can we be ignorant ? Liable, as we are, to infirmity and temptation, subjected to evil pas- sions, exposed to stray from duty, and God, and peace, in pursuing the concerns of the world, how much and how constantly do we need the instructions and sanctions of our divine Master, the encouragement of his promises, and the aid which he provides from above ! If we listen to his awful and delightful revelations, and fill our hearts with a commanding and habitual sense of them, then the power of sin is weakened ; its sceptre and chains are broken ; we go forward in the light and liberty of the children of God. " The Son has made us free, and we are free indeed."! But if, slighting these means of guidance and salvation, we seek to pass forward unsupported and alone, how serious is the danger that we shall be lost in error, overcome by tempta- tion, corrupted by the world, and miserable in the end [• For where is there security, except where Christ has pro- JESUS THE SAVIOR. 71 vided it? Where is there "joy and peace," except "in be- lieving " ? And " how shall we escape, if we neglect so great salvation ? " Is there any. one, then, moved by such considerations, anxious for the welfare of his soul, and earnest to know what he shall do to be saved ? Let him receive in answer the words of the apostle, " Believe in the Lord Jesus Christ, and thou shalt be saved." Every direction and every prep- aration is included in faith ; for when you have gone with faith to the word of the Savior, you trust an infallible guide, who cannot lead you astray. A true faith and reli- ance on him will insure to you the right influence of the means he has provided, and the spiritual aid he has promised. Do you ask, further, how you shall attain, cherish, culti- vate this faith 1 Let it be answered, Bij diligent and ear- nest attention to the means of religion. Hope for no attain- ments, except you use the means for arriving at them. ' Least of all expect a powerful and ruling faith in Christ, without the most devoted use of the means which he has instituted. Be instant in prayer ; be frequent in medita- tion ; study the Scriptures ; be punctual at the worship and^ordinances of God's house ; seek instruction from the works of pious men, and in the conversation of those who are themselves religious. Use these methods vigilantly and perseveringly. It is not the occasional use of them, occa- sional reading, meditation, and prayer, which will keep the heart right, or maintain the ascendency of religious princi- ple. The habjt i»_ necessary. These things must be done customarily and constantly. For the principle of the re- ligious affection, which rests ultimately in God, is like that of the child to its parents. And how is it that that affec- tion, not in a few, but nearly, without exception, in all.chil- 72 JESUS TUB SAVIOK. dren, is rendered so strong, lively, and permanent ? ' The reason is, that the child is always with its parents, continu- ally lives with them and speaks with them ; knows and feels that it receives every thing from them ; their image becomes inwoven with all its thoughts, affections, and plans, and makes part of its essential happiness. Any man that vv^ill take care to be thus always with God, to think of him, and to refer to him, and to make the messages of his love by Jesus Christ as familiar as a mother's accents of love to her child, may render his religious principle as strong and fervent. But the filial affection of the most devoted child in the land might be chilled and destroyed, if he kept him- self as little acquainted with his parents as many men are with God. Learn wisdom from this example. Have not the folly to hope for the great end, except you devotedly pursue the prescribed means. It is these upon which God pours the blessing, and which shall guide us at last " through faith unto salvation.T SERMON VI JESUS THE HIGH PRIEST. HEBREWS IX. 26. BUT NOW, ONCE, IN THE END OF THE WORLD, HATH HE APPEARED TO PUT AWAY SIN BY THE SACRIFICE OF HIMSELF. It is observable of the manner in which the apostles speak of our Lord, that they seem anxious to accumulate expressions which shall evince their admiration and devo- tion ; and in order to excite in others the same sentiments, they take care to select such language and illustrations, as shall convey to their minds the most favorable impressions concerning his excellence and dignity. These are conse- quently varied according to the previous opinions and hab- its of those whom they address ; since that illustration which should ascribe to him the highest honor in the opinion of one, might be associated in the mind of another with very opposite feelings. This is only saying, in other words, that they adapted themselves to the habits of thinking and state of mind of those whom they addressed. This is what Paul means when he says, " that he became all things to all men, that he might by all means save some." It was c>n this principle that he strove to win the attention of the Athe- nians, by representing the God whom he would preach to 7 74 JESUS THK HIGH I'RIEST, them, not as a strange divinity, but as that " Unknown God" whom they already worshiped ; and that he quoted to them, in corroboration of his doctrine, the words of " one of their own poets." It is upon this principle, also, that the epistle to the He- brews is written. It is designed to conciliate the Jews to the new religion, by exhibiting it in such lights, and under such illustrations, as would render it to them most effective. In order to this, the author institutes a parallel between some portions of the Mosaic and the Christian institutions. The Jews would seem to have felt it as an objection to the doctrines of our Lord, that they threatened the abolition of the ancient ceremonials; and many, who could hardly doubt that he was the Christ, were yet ready to regard it as a deficiency in his system, that it provided no splendid temple nor sanctuary, no sacrifices nor priests, like the venerable faith which had been communicated to their fathers. To meet this very natural feeling among his coun- trymen, the apostle explains to them, that these things may be considered as existing in the Christian no less than in the Jewish dispensation. Heaven is a temple, and that part of it which is accounted the peculiar residence of God may be called the sanctuary, or holy of holies. The death of Christ, considering its moral cause and purposes, may be deemed a sacrifice ; and he himself, considering the design of his office, may be regarded as our high priest. And not only so, but it is a more splendid temple, a richer sacrifice, a greater high priest. He would thus make it appear that the Mosaic religion had no advantage over the Chris- tian in respect to ordinances ; that, in truth, it had pos- sessed only the shadow, of which the substance is in the gospel. Under the first covenant there was a tabernacle magnificently furnished, which he describes; under the JF.SUS THE HIGH PRIEST. 75 second covenant there is " a greater and more perfect tabernacle, not made with hands." Into tliat the hij^h priest entered with the blood of beasts; so did Christ into this with his own blood. Under that covenant the sign of cleansing and pardon was *' the blood of bulls and of goats, and the ashes of a heifer sprinkling the unclean ; " under this, it is the blood of Jesus Christ, " who, through the eternal S[)irit, offered himself to God.'j But the Jewish high priest offered for himself as well as for the people; Jesus is greater, who needs no offering for himself The Jewish high priest offered every year; but Christ only •' once, now, in the end of the world, hath appeared, to put away sin by the sacrifice of himself" Upon the parallel thus instituted by the apostle two re- marks may be made. First, it is observable, that, in address- ing the Hebrews, nothing could be more natural, or more likely to attract their regard to the new faith. It was illus- trating the high dignity of our Lord, and tiie purpose of his office, in a manner conformable to their previous religious associations and habits. It thus adapted itself to their sacred prejudices, and prepared the way for the gradurd removal of them. And secondly, 0 gracious promises to men, and of what had been suffered for them. They suppose this perpetual exhibition of the body in which he suffered, to be the essence of that inter- cession which he makes for his church. Others suppose it to consist in his perpetually pleading his merits before God, and claiming the reward of his obe- dience and death, in the salvation of the saints. It is not necessary to discuss all, or either, of the.se opinions. They are merely inferences from single unde- fined expressions, like that of our text, and may seem to be more or less plausible, according to the general notions of that religious system which any one may have adopted. Let us, then, pass by these, and examine the subject for ourselves. To intercede, or to make intercession, signifies to inter- pose, in behalf of another, to some third person, wiio has power to show him favor. This may be done either by action or by word. Whatever, therefore, our Lord has done, by his life, death, labors, or prayers, in behalf of man, may be considered as part of his intercessory onice. For by all these he stepped in, like Aaron with the censer to stay the plague, between man and ruin, and by all helped forward his salvation. It is conscquetitly supposed by many, that this language is only a general expression to signify, that he "exercises kind offices" in behalf of men. In this case, however, it is plain that intercession would be precisely the same thing as the exercise of his mediatorial office. All the services, which Christ has rendered man, are done by him as Mediator. That office comprehends every exercise of his love, every display of his benevolence, every effort to extend salvation. Intercession should be regarded as one of these modes of exertion, rather than as all. Even if it were allowable to consider the term as in- 96 JESUS THE INTERCESSOR. eluding all his" kind offices toward man, or as an indefinite phrase to signify whatever it may be which he does for man in his exalted state ; yet it may be more strictly exact to understand it as intending intercession by prayer. This seems to be the more usual sense of the word, both in our own language and in that of the original Scriptures. The doctrine, then, seems to be, that our blessed Lord, who poured out his prayers as well as his life for men when on earth, forgets not, in his exalted state also, to seek their benefit by his prayers, and thus to express the interest which he s^iil takes in that race for which he labored and died. It will be my object to illustrate the truth of this doctrine, to clear it from objection, to explain its purposes, and un- fold its uses. I. 1. We may remark, in the first place, — that Jesus should be engaged in such an office, is perfectly consonant to all that we know of the mode of the divine administration, and to all that we understand of the method of God's operations in the universe. He has every where established a uniform system of mutual dependence. Nothing stands by itself No being exists alone. All lean upon each other. Every individual is made to help others, and to receive help from others. It is a large, comprehensive arrangement of benefi- cence, in which God's kind purposes are effected by caus- inor his creatures to do kind offices to one another. The very worlds which roll through space are dependent on each other, and influence each other. Men are dependent on one another for existence and for happiness. The parent and cliild, the teacher and pupil, the ruler and sub- ject, the rich and poor, all are needful to each other. And look where we may, every thing and every being seems njade, not for itself only, but for the benefit of others also. JESUS THE INTERCESSOR. 97 The intercessory office of Jesus may be regarded as part of this wide-spread and all-cinbracing system. Agree- ably to this universal law of kindness, God has appointed that his children on earth shall receive fiivor and blessing througli the various instrumentality of his dear Son. It is his favorite procedure to bestow his gifts by means of inter- mediate agents ; to withdraw himself, as it were, from im- mediate action and observation, that he may exercise the virtues and good affections of his children on one another. Thus, in the present instance, he would multiply the objects of their affection and gratitude, by appointing that favors shall be conveyed to them through the intercession of their Savior. This is also conformable to the method of his providence and grace, as recorded in the Scriptures. The frequent examples of prevalent intercession, both in the Old and New Testaments, prove to us that this is one of the means by which God has appointed to dispense blessing. When the destruction of Sodom was threatened, how did his con- descending mercy listen to the importunate pleading of Abraham, and promise to spare at his entreaty ! When the people of Israel had rebelliously sinned, how often were they forgiven, and their punishment delayed, at the interpo- sition of Moses! So, too, the prayers of David and Samuel, of Elisha and Solomon, were acceptable, and the offending friends of Job were pardoned at his intervention. And when the people had transgressed beyond mercy in the days of Jeremiah, the prophet was commanded, as the most de- cided expression of God's displeasure, " Therefore pray not thou for this people, neither lift up cry nor prayer for them, neither make intercession to me ; for I will not hear thee." The authority of the New Testament is even more deci- sive than that of the Old. The principle of acceptable 98 JKSOS THE INTERCBSSOR. intercession is very frequently recognized. Christians are commanded to pray for one another. The apostles request the brethren to pray for thein, and they offer their own prayers for the brethren. Paul directs that " intercessions be made for all men." " Confess your faults one to an- other," says James, " and pray for one another. The prayer of faith shall heal the sick, and the Lord shall raise him up." Paul earnestly prays in behalf of his countrymen, and often assures the churches to which he writes, that he never forgets them in his addresses at the throne of grace. It tlms appears that, among the good services which men are made to render to one another, this of intercession stands prominent and conspicuous. As they are bound to " do good as they have opportunity," so they are taught that they have an opportunity, whenever they hold communion with their heavenly Father. If it be so witii all; if every righteous man have this privilege ; if the ear of the Almighty be thus open to the cry of every benevolent heart, — how much more must it be so to the voice of his chosen, his anointed, his dearly-be- loved Son ! If this be a means of cultivating benevolence and dispensing favor in the hands of all his children, hovr peculiarly must it be so in 7i/s hands, to whom the great work of love was appointed, and whose desire of man's happiness is so earnest and extensive ! How must his heart, overflowing with that love which passeth knowledge delight to pour itself out before the seat of his Father's mercy, in petitions of grace for the erring, of pardon for the penitent, of strength for the weak, of aid for the tempted ! How must he delight to add to all other demon- strations of interest in their souls' well-being, this of a tender recollection of them in his prayers ! Consider how it was during his residence upon earth. JESUS THE INTERCESSOR. 1)9 Several of his prayers are recorded in the Gospels, and among them are prayers of intercession. " The enemy hath ostle had been naming, in the preceding chapter, a long catalogue of those who were eminent for their faith in former days. In the first verse of the present chapter, he represents them as a " cloud of witnesses," surrounding Christians, by whose presence they should be excited to run well the race set before them. In tlms expressing himself, he evidently alludes to the public games, which were of such celebrity and consequence in that age of the world. He urges Christians to persevere, like combatants in the race, who struggled hard for the prize, and to be animated by the attendant crowd of witnesses; and as a further incitement, directs them, in our text, to be also looking unto Jesus, " the Author and Finisher of their faith." Com- mentators, who are skilled in the original languages, and acquainted with the customs of former times, tell us that the titles here given to Christ are those which belonged to him who presided at the games. Mack night accordingly translates, " the Captain and Perfecter of the faith ; " and observes that " the apostle, having exhorted the Hebrews THK EXAMPLE OF UUll LORD. 141 to run the race set before them, compares Jesus to the judge of the games, whose office it was to determine who were tl»e coiuiuerors, and to make them perfect as com- batants by bestowing on them the prizes." But tliere is something further implied than even this. The apostle speaks of him as one who has himself run the siuiie race, in spite of its discouragements and hardships, and is now enjoying its rewards ; " who, for the joy set before hini, endured the cross, despising the shame, and is now set down at the right hand of the throne of God ; " whom we are, therefore, to regard as an example to our- selves, and to animate our flagging spirits by remembering that, as " he overcame, and is set down with his Father on his throne, so, if we overcome, we shall sit down with him on his tlirone." The disciples of Jesus are thus, in the passage before us, directed to " look unto him " as their Leader, their Judge, and their Example; exalted at the right hand of God's throne, because " he endured the cross, and despised the shame." By the example of their Master, thus honored and exalted, the disciples are exhorted to be encouraged and strengthened. It is this exhortation upon which we are to meditate at the present time. Brethren, I wish you to contemplate Jesus to-day as your Example. I wish to bring up to your minds and hearts the pattern of your be- loved and honored Lord, and to show you how great encouragement, aid, comfort, and holy peace, may be ob- tained irj all duty, trial, and sorrow, by habitually and fer- vently kxjking unto him. The power of example is too well known to need to be much insisted on. Man has been called — and with some propriety — the creature of imitation. The character of children is very much formed on the model of their parents, 142 THE EXABIPLE OF OUR LORD and of those companions with whom they familiarly asso- ciate. Every parent knows the importance' of this consid- eration in selecting the person by whom his children shall be instructed, and the school at which they shall find com- panions. The power of example is plainly seen in the formation of national character. Every separate commu- nity among men, whether larger or smaller, is distinguished by certain peculiarities of character and habit. These are to be traced almost exclusively to the influence of example, the manners of one generation being caught by the next, and transmitted down from sire to son indefinitely. The power of example is also seen in the religions of the world. Men have imitated the deities whom they have worshiped, and formed in themselves the characters which they sup- posed to exist in their gods. " The gods of the heathen are vanity and a lie ; they that make them are like unto them ; so is every one that trusteth in them." When the divin- ities, to whom worship and devotion were paid, were be- lieved to be possessed of human passions, and to be guilty of human vices, — when their histories were filled with self- ishness, cruelty, revenge, lust, and every immorality, — it is not strange that men took countenance from their examples, and went to an extravagant dissoluteness of manners, into which, without such encouragement, they could hardly have fallen. As much of the prevalent vice of heathen nations is to be ascribed to this cause, so, doubtless, much of the prevalent virtue of the Christian world is to be attributed to the character of the true God, as he is there worshiped. In Christian lands, too, the efiicacy of example has been witnessed and valued in the use which has always been made of the lives of the apostles, saints, and martyrs. In memory of their excellence, some churches have established festivals, and others have published records of their lives, THE EXAMPLE OF OUR LORD. 14Ji and circulated volumes in their praise. There can be no doubt, that much hafe in this way been done to excite and strengtiien in the practice of religion and virtue. Living and breathing patterns of excellence are placed before the wayfaring Christian. He witnesses their ardor, is made acquainted with their anxious labors, hears of their severe trials and persevering fidelity ; and by observing how they watched and prayed, toiled and suffered, learns to go and do likewise. Our own experience may perhaps confirm to us these remarks. How often has a holy zeal been kindled within us, while we have read of the faith and patience of some eminent servant of God who has gone before us ? How have our resolutions to do and to suffer been confirmed, when we have listened to the story of another's unshaken fidelity and unwearying perseverance ! Next to the reading of the Scriptures, and the appointed preaching of God's word, religion doubtless owes more to the persuasion of pious example than to all other causes. Every Christian can remember instances in which it has given ardor to his faith, and confidence to his virtue, and comfort to his trou- bles. The thought of what Howard did has prompted the benevolence of thousands ; and the zeal of Clarkson has kindled a flame in a multitude of souls. Many are they that have been affected and won by the beautiful life of Fenelon, and caught the contagion of religion from the breathing spirit of Watts, or the singular excellence of Cappe. In a word, whatever other means may have been enjoyed, it is the example of the holy and good, which has excited the energy of their minds, and made them capable of great and perilous enterprises, and filled them with long- ings after perfection. But if such be the value and effect of contemplating 144 THE EXAMPLE OF OTTR LORD, those who have exhibited before us Christian faith and obedience, — if we may be thus moved and animated by the example of imperfect men, who, after all, have fol- lowed their holy Master only at a distance, — what might not be the effect of bringing home to our minds, and set- ting before us in our lives, the perfect example of that blessed Master himself? I fear, brethren, that we place him too far from us. I fear that we too much neglect to bring him near, and keep him before us, and realize the manner of his conversation and life ; and that he requires us, not only to do according to his commandment, but ac- cording to his example. Yet why should we not realize this? Why not literally make him our Pattern? Why not, in every season, " look to him ; " think how he did in a simi- lar situation ; what dispositions he indulged on similar occa- sions ; how he would conduct himself, and how feel, in cir- cumstances like our own ? Is not this practicable? Would it not greatly assist us ? Would it not often deliver us in perplexity and error ? It is true, he lived many ages ago. But time and distance are nothing in a case like this. The mind has power to bring him near, and he is as important and personal a friend now, as if we had lived in his own day. It is true, also, his example is in a sense so perfect, that we may not hope to equal it. But this should be no discouragement. It should rather animate us the more. It is an old proverb, that he who aims at the sun, to be sure will not reach it, but his arrow will fly higher than if he aimed at an object on a level with himself Just so, if other men are our standard, we shall never be better than other men; probably not so good. But if we imitate Jesus, we shall certainly rise above them, though we sh:ill come far short of him. Besides, there is nothing impracticable in the virtues of Jesus ; that is to say, nothing which is THE EXAiMPLE OF OUR LORD. 145 above the earth, and the concerns or wants of the earth, in such a sense as to be unsuitable to men, or to render it romantic for them to practise it. On the contrary, liis is one of the most practical characters in the world ; exliibit- ing specimens of the very dispositions, principles, habits, which are of the most constant and indispensable need in the intercourse and duties of life. What more so than his invariable gentleness, his untiring benevolence, his ready forgiveness, his humility and condescension, his meekness and patience, his cheerful contentment, his activity in duty, his fortitude in suffering, his unreserved trust in divine Providence, his holy submission to the divine will ? These are the prominent features in his human character. These are the qualities in which he should be our example ; they are qualities every day, every hour, needed, and the posses- sion of which would render every day, every hour, tranquil, lovely, and happy. And this example is set before us as one which we should by no means gaze at with despair, because exhibited by one who — in the language of holy writ — "was made in all points like unto his brethren; who took not on him the nature of angels, but the seed of Abraham ; as the children are made partakers of flesh and blood, so he also himself took part in the same ; was in all points tempted like as we are, though without sin ; and, though a Son, yet learned obedience by the things which he suffered." In this language of the sacred volume, we find him represented as passing through the infirmities and trials of life, obeying and suffering in all things like his brethren, and in all things an example to his brethren ; who, by wit- nessing his temptations and trials, his " strong crying and tears," his obedience and faithfulness, may learn what they ought to do, and how they should do it ; and may be com- forted, strengthened, and supported in all, by looking unto 13 146 THE EXAMPLE OF OUK LORIT. him. In respect of such things, says the apostle, " he Is not ashamed to call them brethren ; " and how encouraging to them may be the thought, that, in seeking to become "heirs of God," they are "joint heirs with Christ" ! Is there not something possible — I had almost said, something easy — in setting up before us such a Pattern ! If we should do it faithfully, would not our hearts cleave to it 1 and should we not soon learn to loathe every path, ia which we had not seen his pure feet tread 1 Should we not delight to gaze upon his benevolence and piety, his activity and patience, his humility and fortitude ? and while we contemplated them familiarly, should we not even copy them involuntarily, and grow like him, as a child grows like its beloved parent, — unconsciously, and because we could not escape the celestial contagion ? It must be evident, then, that our Lord's example is not such a one as we cannot follow, but has been most wisely and kindly adapted to our situation and wants. If, then, the power of example over man be great, as we have seen, and that of good men have done so much to influence and form human character, the value of this example, if faithfully applied to our lives, and assiduously followed, must be great beyond all (jjilculation. There is no good feeling which it might not perfect, no amiable virtue which It might not form, no suffering which it would not enable us to hear, no temptation which it might not help us to subdue. It would be a present aid, a sure counsellor, an unerring guide, in every perplexity, trial, and duty. The world migiit fling around you her most fearful shades of darkness and despair, and every human power be ready to shrink from the path in which Providence should lead you ; but yet, steadfastly look- ing unto Jesus, — who once endured it all, — observing how l\e struggled, how he conquered, and how he is exalted. THE EXAMPLE OF OUR LORD, 147 you would feel a strength by wliich you might dissipate the cloud and the terror, and find every mountain and hill brought low; yea, you might even, as the Lord promised his disciples, " tread on serpents^ and scorpions, and all the power of the enemy ; and nothing should by any means hurt you." This may be made yet plainer by observing its operation in a few particular cases. You desire to know by what dispositions toward God you may attain his acceptance. You know, indeed, that su- preme love to him is the commandment ; but you would learn more definitely in what this love consists, and in what kind of demeanor it exhibits itself. " Look unto Jesus, and learn of him " — the fairest, the fullest example of per- fect love. You see it in him an essential, all-pervading, ever-operating principle ; not distinct and separate from every other feature of his character, but inwoven with all the others, and inseparable from them ; the spirit of all, rather than a spirit by itself It is exhibited in a calm, equal, and unwavering contentment; because he entirely trusts Ilim whom he loves ; in quiet, solemn, and constant intercourse with him in prayer ; not in noisy and extrava- gant raptures, but in the deep and fervent communion of a full heart, whose feeling is too real to be loud. Especially it is exhibited in anxious cflbrts and ready sacrifices to do his will, and accomplish the appointed work of his good pleasure. Fix your eye upon this beautiful pattern of per- fect piety, follow these steps, and you will never need be at a loss for the path of the perfect love of God. Perhaps you are beset with teniptation. The world and Bin entice you. They have .spread their snares, and placed you amid bad and seducing companions, from whom you 148 THE EXAMPLE OF OUR LORD. can hardly hope to escape without corruption. Your reso- lutions are assailed, and your faith seems about to be wrecked. " Look unto Jesus ; " remember him, tempted in all points as you are, that he might be able to " succor those who are tempted." Remember how he struggled with the adversary of souls in the desert, and overcame the strongest solicitations — solicitations to which yours are not to be compared. Remember how the trial of his soul wrought an agony in the garden, when so strongly tempted to refuse the cup that was prepared for him. Remember how, in those trying seasons, he summoned to his aid the word of God, and baffled the tempter with this " sword of the Spirit ; " and bow he waxed strong and became con- queror by persevering in prayer. Go thou, and do likewise. No temptation is too powerful for him who will watch and pray like his holy Lord ; and do not thou lose an honorable place in his kingdom by weakly shrinking from a contest, in which he hath taught thee how to fight, and to become more than conqueror. Here is another man, beset by the sin of pride. A lofty spirit and high heart are his glory. He despises others, and lives only to aggrandize himself My friend, " look unto Jesus." He — the Author and Finisher of our faith — the noblest personage that ever walked the earth — who pos- sessed more than human knowledge and wisdom, and wielded the powers of Heaven — are you greater than he, that you should thus exalt yourself, while he was so humble, so lowly, so unassuming ? Behold him, who stripped him- self of his honors, who took "the form of a servant," who came, " not to be ministered unto, but to minister,'" — and blush for your own swelling importance. There is no pride in Jesus. How unbecoming, then, in you ! How despicable TilE EXAMPLE OF OUR LORD. 149 do the vain and haughty appear by the side of the unassum- ing and condescending liumility which graced the life of the Son of God! How little able will you be to indulge emotions of arrogance and self-sufiiciency, if you faitlifully set before you that beautiful and affecting example ! Here is another, the slave of angry and revengeful pas- sions, easily provoked to wrath, and betrayed to violence. " Look unto Jesus; learn of him who was meek and lowly in heart." Is there any thing more lovely than his equable and long-suffering gentleness, " who, though reviled, reviled not again ; though he suffered, threatened not, but submitted himself to Him that judgeth righteously? " Why may not you do likewise? Why icilt you not do likewise? Why should not patience and meekness be honorable in you as well as in him? And why should revenge and passion be less odious ? Be but familiar with his quiet temper, and feel how lovely it is in him, and you cannot cherish those opposite dispositions, which will then be hateful in your sight. Again, you are perhaps suffering from the injuries of men and the injustice of the world ; you have been wronged, or disgraced, or persecuted; and how shall you conduct yourself under these aggravated evils ? " Look unto Jesus," and take instruction from his example. You see in him no boiling indignation, no impatience of revenge, no returning of malice for malice. But his .spirit, though oppressed, still retains its serenity, and, turning from the injustice of man, finds repose on the justice of God. Be not you, then, im- patient. Be not you overwhelmed by passion or despair. Your sufferings cannot compare with his ; and shall you not at least strive to bear them like him ? You cannot meet equal injustice ; and will you not seek at least for equal 13* 150 THE EXAMPLE OF OTJR LORD. composure? Behold him, who had spent the faithful days of a laborious life in doing good ; whose only care was to benefit mankind ; and who displayed an extent of active benevolence never before even imagined ; yet assailed by those very persons for whom he had been laboring, cruelly arraigned before an unfeeling tribunal on a false pretence, and subjected to all the ignominy and torture of a mock trial — smitten — buffeted — scourged — derided — insult- ed — dragged away to a lingering and disgraceful death. Have you endured hardship and injustice to be named with this ? Yet no murmur escapes him ; no passion ruffles his composure ; no resentment flashes from his meek and sup- plicating eye ; no accent of wrath or threatening comes from his oppressed and dying bosom ; but even in the last moment of mortal agony, he lifts his compassionate voice in a prayer of mercy — "Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do ! " In the hour of suffering and despair, reflect upon this scene; try if you cannot catch something of the spirit of your Master, and bear your trial like him. Perhaps you have afflictions of another kir^d. Calamity and death visit your dwelling, and the lights in which you rejoice are quenched by your side. Your friends are re- moved, your hopes are destroyed, and you sit in thick dark- ness, desponding and alone. Here, too, the example of Jesus may clieer and sustain you. Look therefore to him. Call to mind the instructions which he, the Author and Fin- isher of your faith, has given, concerning the government of your Father, and the purposes of his providence. CiUl to mind also the day when he bore the calamities which God had appointed him; when he was emphatically " a man of sorrows r.ml accjuaiuted with grief; " when he might THE EXAMPLE OF OUR LORD. l&l have cried to you and said, " Come and see, all ye that pass by, if there be any sorrow like unto my sorrow." Yet you see him, not giving way to the grief, not overcome by the sorrow, but struggling against it, looking up to God witli serene and holy trust, casting his spirit on his Father with unrepining and tranquil submission. " The cup which my Father hath given me, shall I not drink it?" This is no example of unfeeling composure, of stoical insensibility, of unnatural fortitude. Jesus struggled, even to an agony, that he might attain it. Go, heart-broken mourner, and do likewise. Go, as he did, and pray — not once, but twice, and thrice ; and God will answer you, too, by " an angel from heaven to strengthen you " — not indeed in a visible form, but in an inward peace. It is no sin to mourn and weep. Jesus wept. The sin lies in refusing to look for comfort, in obstinately murmuring against the hand of God, in complaining of his severity. Jesus even prayed that " the cup might pass from him." But not repiningly, not rebelliously. He added, with filial submission, " Nev- ertheless, not my will, but thine, be done." Brethren, this example is of infinite wortli to us. Dwell upon it in the day of your sorrow. Imitate it in the hour of your trouble. You will not fail to attain something of the peace which the Savior promised to his followers, and which God gives to all those " whose hearts are stayed on hira, and who trust in him." In these various ways may the contemplation of our Lord's example help to guide and support us in the weary pilgrim- age of life. Through its vicissitudes of joy and sorrow, duty and suffering, perplexity and fear, it may keep our hearts equal and our faith firm. At its close, it may deliver us from fear, and make us more than conquerors, through 152 THE EXAMPLE OF OUR LORD. him that hath loved us. And in lieaven — it may have helped to prepare us for the peace of that holy rest, wliicli remains for the people of God. Blessed be God, who hath given us such a Leader ! Happy, thrice happy we, if we be enabled successfully to follow him ! SERMON XII. THE OLD NORTH CHURCH. HAGGAI II. 3. WHO IS LEFT AMONG YOU THAT SAW THIS HOUSE IN HER FIRST GLORY I" Tub house, my brethren, in which we assemble to wor- ship, has been occupied a hundred years. It was dedicated to that holy service to which it has always been sacred, on the tenth day of May, 1721 ; a century from which date, al- lowing for the difference of style, is this very day completed. An epoch so interesting, so fitted to recall the remembrance of past years, and to excite to salutary contemplation on the vicissitudes of a transitory world, and the dispensations of an unchanging God, I am not willing to pass without ex- plicit and large notice. It has been customary in our churches, on such an occasion, to review the way through which God has led them, and recount the history of his providence to their fathers. It is a good custom. And I doubt not, brethren, that you will be interested to go back with me, and trace the story of this church, and the char- acter and doings of its ministers and people. To this ob- ject I purpose to devote the discourses of this day ; and though none are left that saw the first glory of this house, we may thus all learn what it was — may find that it has at no ■154 THE OLD NORTH CHURCH. period been withdrawn, and is not, even now, wholly de- parted. We are not confined, however, in this survey, to the his- tory of the last hundred years, but are led back through the seventy years previous. It is well known to many of you, though probably not to all, that the church in this place is formed by the union of two churches. When the Old North meeting-house, which stood at the head of North Square, had been destroyed by the British troops at the commencement of the revolutionary war, the minister and people united with the minister and people worshiping in this house, and became one church and congregation with them. The late venerable Dr. Lathrop, who so long minis- tered here, was ordained, not over the church in this place, but over the church in North Square, and became pastor of the church in this place by the transfer of his relation after his own meeting-house had been destroyed. We are, there- fore, equally interested in the history of the Old North, as of the New Brick * Church, for it was equally the home of our ancestors. It is a history, too, that deserves our atten- tion ; for it was the second religious establishment in this important place, and numbers amongst its ministers some of the remarkable names of New England. To this, there- fore, I ask your first attention. The town of Boston having been settled in 1630, ten years after the landing at Plymouth, the first building for public worsliij) was erected in 1032. This was sufficient for the accommodation of the inhabitants for nearly twenty years. The population had then so increased as to render ■* Tho prosont building retains its original name of the J\'cw Brick. The churcli is known by the style of the Second Church, as it yvas a minister of the Second Church under whom the union was made. The name of the Old A'orth is dropped. THE OLD NOllTH CUURCII. 155 another building necesa.iry ; and accordingly the people in the north part of the town, which was most populous, built tiie second meeting-house, at the head of North Sipiare, in 1049.* The church was gathered there on the fifth day of June the next year, and consisted at first of seven mem- bers. ( I) t A sermon was preached on the occasion by Samuel Mather, — a native of England, but educated at Harvard Col- lege, — who was earnestly solicited'to remain as pastor of the church ; but for reasons of which we know nothing, he went to England, and was for twenty-one years minister in various places, an eminent and respected man. (2) After- ward Mr. Norton, minister of Ipswich, who, two years after, became minister of the First Church in this town, and Mr. Davenport of New Haven, who, seventeen years after, also became minister of the First Church, — both of them among the distinguished men of that period ; and " sundry others who were officers in other churches, but likely to remove from the places where they were, " J — were invited, unsuc- cessfully, to take charge of this infant church. For a few years, therefore, one of the brethren, Michael Powell, con- ducted the worship of God's house, and to such satisfaction that he would have been ordained teacher, had it not been for the interference of the General Court, who " would not suffer one, that was illiterate as to academical education, to be called to the teaching office in such a place as Bos- ton" | — a circumstance which is well worth noticing, as it exemplifies the jealous care with which our fathers guard- ed the dignity and character of the public institutions of " I do not find any account of the dedication, and cannot tell whether tiie meeting-house was first occupied in l(i4i) or IGoO. t The figures refer to the notes at the end ol" sermons XII. and XIII. t Church Records. 156 THE OLD NORTH CUUIICII. religion. After four years passed in this state, Mr. John Mayo, who, on account of some "difficulties and discourage- ments," had left his church at Nosset, in Plymouth colony, was called to the pastoral office here, and ordained the 9th of November, 1055. At the same time, Mr. Powell was or- dained as ruling elder of the church. Mr. Powell was soon after incapacitated for all labor by a paralytic affection, and his office became. vacant.* I do not find that it was ever again filled. About this time,t Increase Mather, brother of him before mentioned, returned to this country, and was soon invited to the office of teacher in the Second Church. After two years' hesitation, he accepted, on certain conditions, and was ordained the 27th day of May, 1G64. The pastor and teacher | continued laboring together un- til the year IGTO, when Mr. Mayo's increasing infirmities made it necessary for his ministry to cease. Three years afterward, he removed to Barnstable, and there spent the remainder of his days with his daughter. He died at Yar- mouth, in May, 1676, advanced in years, but at what precise age is not known. We have no means of acquainting our- selves with his history or character beyond what is here stated. (;J) After the removal of Mr. Mayo, Dr. Mather held his office * He died January 28, lG72-'3. f September, IGGl. t In the early records of the church, these titles are apjtlied alter- nately to the ministers as they were settled, evidently without any difference in the nature, tenure, or duties, of the ollice. Cotton Mather says, (Rat. Disc. p. 42,) that, when the churches had more than one pastor, " one of them formerly was distinguished by the name of teacher ; though, in regard of their work and their power among these churches, it has been so much distinctio sine differentia, that more lately the distinction is less regarded." THE OLD iNORTH ClIURCK. 157 alone, until his son, Cotton Mather, was ordained as a col- league, May 13, 1GS4. During tliese years, the church ap- pears to have been prosperous, growing with the growth of the town, A great misfortune, however, befell them in the burning of the meeting-house in IGTG. (4) It was rebuilt the next year, and then stood for a century. The prosperi- ty of the church, after this event, may be inferred from the circumstance, that within six years it became necessary to build a gallery for the better accommodation of the hear- ers. (5) Indeed, the character and reputation of Increase Mather were such, tliat we should expect to find a crowded attend- ance on his ministrations. He was one of the eminent men of his times, and few possessed and wielded a wider influence. And, although there were those, as there always will be around an elevated man, especially if he take a leading part in political transactions, who were inimical to his authority, yet in church and state, in religious and in civil affairs, he was looked up to as a leader, equally active, distinguished, and trusted. This was partly owing to the peculiar state of society amongst the early Puritan .settlers, who, in their design of forming a " Christian commonwealth," naturally placed much of the power of government in the hands of the rulers of the church ; and the authority, which was in the first years exercised by the holy and able ministers who led the feeble colonists,* and by their energy and prayers sustained them in their dark days of fear and danger, continued to abide to the last with Increase Mather. We must not, how- " No instance of tliis autliority is more remarkable than lliat of Cotton, minister of the First Church. " Whatever," says Hubbard, ♦« Mr. Cotton delivered was soon put into an order of court, if of a civil, or set up as a practice in the church, if of an cccksiastical concernment." 14 158 THE OLD NORTH CHURCH. ever, attribute too much to the character of the age ; much, doubtless, was owing to the rare qualities of the man. For three generations, (6) that family was distinguished by ex- traordinary gifts. There were many men amongst them on whom nature had bestowed the power to be great, and they evidenced that power in the influence with which they swayed their fellow-men. Increase Mather had his full share of these qualities. Ardent, bold, enterprising, and perhaps ambitious ; conscious of his own power, religiously sensible of his obligations to exercise it usefully ; born and trained in a young colony struggling with hardships, and forcing its way through peril and fear ; his mind fashioned by a father, who for conscience' sake had quitted all and settled in this hopeless land, and who had all the zeal and firmness which characterized the Puritans of that age, a race eminently formed " to do and to dare ; " — thus gifted and educated, he became peculiarly fit, and no wonder it was felt that he was fit, to have an ascendency and exercise a control. He had received the best education of his own country ; he had completed it abroad ; he had been driven from place to place, suffering for his religion, and presented with strong temptations to abandon it, thus acting a hur- ried and various part in the most trying times in the mother country ; and after this discipline, so calculated to give firmness and character, he returned to labor in the service of this infant state. (7) Nothing can be conceived more likely to prepare a man to act well his part in so peculiar a scene. He soon became eminent. Talents, learning, and virtue are always commanding. In that age, a religious spirit was indispensable to honor and power. Mather had all. He was conspicuous for rigid piety where all were rigid, and eminent for talents and knowledge where many had been eminent before him. It therefore is not strange THE OLD NORTH CHURCH. 159 that he acquired a control to which few are equa , and re- ceived and held honors which would not now be bestowed upon ministers. We find proofs of his ascendency in several remarkable transactions. When King Charles II., in 1C83, demanded from the colonies an un(iualified resignation of their char- ters, it was principally by the authority and influence of Increase Mather that the people refused to make the sur- render. He not only wrote upon the subject, but went to them in public meeting, and exhorted them not with open eyes to rush upon their ruin, but to do their duty, and trust the event to God.* The e.vample of Boston decided the question throughout the country ; and this is one of the early instances in which the lead was taken by this town in those spirited measures of opposition to arbitrary oppression, for which the descendants of the Puritans have been always distinguished. The charter, however, was forfeited ; and a governor was sent overt with unlimited authority to make and administer what laws he might please. This authority he exercised in a most oppressive manner; which at length so e.xcited the indignation of the people, that it was resolved to send an agent to England to represent their grievances to the king. (8) No one was found so fitted to this important labor as Dr. Mather, who accordingly sailed for England in April, 1GS8. During that year, the English revolution took place, and it was not until four years after that he accom- plished his cofnmission and returned home. Upon his arri- val f with a new governor and another charter, the General * " The clergy," says Hutchinson, " turned the scale for the last time. The balance which they had held from tlie beginning, they were allowed to retain no longer." t By James, in ]6d6. t May 14, 169y. 160 THE OLD NORTH CHURCH. Court appointed a day of solemn thanksgiving, with honora- ble mention of his exertions in behalf of the state. But the satisfaction which it yielded him was not unmixed. Many were dissatisfied with the result of his negotiations,* and parties were formed. Some of his old friends forsook him, and he found, like others before him, that the troubles and anxieties of political eminence are very insufficiently com- pensated by its honors. But his peculiar distinctions and happiness were in the church. He was eminently fitted for the work of the min- istry, and held high rank as a writer and a preacher. His manner is represented to have been grave, dignified, and impressive. He never carried his notes into the pulpit, generally committing his sermons to memory, and often- times preaching extempore, — especially during the years in which he was president of the college, when he had little leisure for writing ; for so devoted to him were his flock, that they would consent to his holding that office only on the condition that he continued their minister : and when it was made necessary for the president to reside in Cam- bridge, he resigned the office for his people's sake. (9) His sermons are written in a manly and forcible style, less marked than might be expected by the peculiar faults of the age, and contain passages of the most powerful elocjuence. His favorite topics ap})ear to have been those of practical religion, which he inculcated in all the severe strictness and occasional superstition of that age, and with great energy * His task was, undouhlcdly, a very ditlicult ono, and he was liinisclf far from being altogether satisfied with the terms he wris able to obtain. This he acknowledges in the ])ainphlet wiiich he published on the subject, but complains of the unreasonableness of those who accused him of having done nothing, because he had not accomplished all that was desirable. THE OLD NORTH CHURCH. 161 and warmth. Few sermons present a stronger image of the entire sincerity of the writer, and the anxious workings of his own feelings. They are remarkable for their copious historical illustrations,* which appear to have presented themselves spontaneously to his mind ; and not less so for their frequent lamentations over the degeneracy and depart- ing glory of New England. He bewailed, in most pathetic strains, the rapid decline, which he witnessed, from the strictness of the first settlers, and was often sounding the alarm of an exemplary vengeance to overtake that evil and perverse generation. " The interest of New England," he says, " is changed from a religious to a worldly interest." " Such sins as formerly were not known in New England have now become common, such as swearing, sinful gaming, &/C. ; yea, the present generation, as to the body of it, is an unconverted generation." He elsewhere adds to this cata- logue of sins drunkenness, tavern-hunting, even on Satur- day evening, and neglect of the Sabbath, the ordinances, and family worship. He cries out also against the lax dis- cipline of the church, and the common substitution of a merely historical belief, for the rigid saving faith which was once regarded as essential. (10) These complaints sound strangely in our ears, who have been taught to believe that the manners of that age were universally pure, and to regard them with veneration, as presenting a model for imitation. But such complaints are made in every age. There are always those that imagine the world is going backward, be- cause it is not guided by their own rule, and does not re- semble the picture their fancy has drawn of times that are past. And we should be comforted amidst the lamentations This is true as a general remark, though particularly so of his occasional sornions. 14* 162 THE OLD NORTH CHURCH, of present degeneracy, that they were equally loud a hun- dred and thirty years ago, and on account, too, of the same sins which are said to be our peculiar curse. No doubt changes were perpetually occurring ; and those who had known the country when it consisted, as we may say, of but one little family, would readily imagine every departure from the simplicity and strictness of family discipline and order to be evil ; and yet it might be not only unavoidable, but upon the whole advantageous. The anxiety of Mather upon this head is a most honorable proof of his devotion to the welfare of religion and of his country ; it was the spirit of genuine piety and patriotism. But it evinced, also, how much he was governed by the impressions of education, and the circumstances of the times in which he lived. And these had made such impression on his mind, that he looked as fearfully on the growing charity as on the grow- ing vices of the age. He does not appear to have been bigoted or uncandid in his own private feelings. While in London, he tells us, " he did his utmost to promote a union between the Presbyterian and Congregational churches ; " and in a neighboring town he assisted to ordain a minister of the Baptist denomination, and spoke with satisfaction of the part he had taken in it. And yet he could declaim loudly against toleration, and pronounce it to be fraught with the deadliest evils. "Toleration," he says, "of all religions and persuasions, is the way to have no religion at all left." "I do believe that Antichrist hath not in this day a more probable way to advance the kingdom of darkness." * (H) This alarm, in regard to the state and prospects of the country, was mingled with that superstition of the age, which likened the Commonwealth to the commonwealth of * Election sermon. THE OLD NORTH CHTRCH. 163 Israel, and which accordingly expected perpetual interposi- tions of Providence in favor or judgment. Every calamity — storm, fire, and sickness — he represented as special vis- itations of God for the sins of the people, and endeavored, with all the energy of his eloquence, to rouse them to a sense of their sins, that they might by repentance avert the wrath.* On the appearance of the comets in 1C80 and 1682, which he verily believed to be the forerunners of calamity, and published a considerable treatise in sup- port of the opinion, (12) he came forward with loud ex- hortations to repentance and reformation, denouncing the irritated anger of Heaven, and confidently predicting a heavy day of vengeance and darkness. It is not at all strange, when we consider the character of the times in which he lived, that his ardent and devout mind, which had been trained to " see God in every thing and every thing in God," should be thus aflfected with super- stitious notions of the government of the world and the ap- pearances of the heavens. The strongest and best minds are as liable as others to submit to the prevalent opinions of the age, and their doing so is no proof of deficiency in talents or in judgment. The character of this eminent man stands upon other grounds ; and while it can be sustained upon them, it is but a small thing that in some points it partakes of the infirmities of the world in which he moved. Such was the man by the light of whose instruction and example our church was blessed for more than sixty-two years, and who for sixty-six years was a preacher of the gospel. He died August 23, 1723, in the eighty-fifth year His sermons on such occasions were principally preached at the Thursday lecture, and appear to have made an impression, as I find some of them passed through two editions, and some through a third. 164 THE OLD NORTH CHURCH, of his age — undoubtedly one of the most distinguished men of the day; "one who was indeed a great man while yet but a young man, and a notable preacher of Christ in some of the greatest churches of England and Ire- land, before he had been twenty years in the world. A great man, and one adorned with great endowments of knowledge, and learning, and prudence, which qualified him for stations and actions, and even an agency for his country, wherein the most eminent persons in the nation, and three crowned heads, took a kind notice of him." Indeed, whether you consider the extraordinary honors that attended him while living, or the general sentiment which has fol- lowed his memory, or consult the writings which he has left behind him, you will pronounce him a man richly en- dowed by nature, richly furnished by education, and de- servedly numbered with the most pious, learned, and useful men of New England. The day of his death was a day of general mourning. An honorable funeral was given him, such as few citizens had been known to receive before, and every testimony of affection and veneration accompanied him to the tomb. The feelings of that day have passed away ; the eyes that knew him and wept for him have long been sealed in death ; and other generations have risen, and gone by, and been forgotten. But the name of Increase Mather still lives ; and when hundreds of generations shall have sunk to irrecoverable oblivion, he shall still be hailed as one of the early worthies of New England. The most important event relating to these churches, which occurred in the latter part of his ministry, was the division of his church, and the establishment of two nevir congregations. With the increase of the town, the Old North had become excessively crowded, and inconvenient for the worshipers. A secession accordingly took place, THE OLD NORTH CHURCU. 165 and the New North was built in 1714. In 1721, a difficulty arose among that people about the settlement of a minister, which issued in a separation and the building of the New Brick. In this difficulty the pastors of the Old North took an almost paternal interest, and the ordination of the first minister of the New Brick was the last which Increase Mather attended. Of these events I shall speak further in another place. Cotton Mather, who had been colleague with his father for thirty-nine years, survived him but four years and a half He died, after an illness of five weeks, February 13, 1728, the day after he had completed his si.xty-fifth year, having been minister forty-four years. He was a man of equal fame with his father ; and although I have already detained you so long, it is impossible to proceed without dwelling at some length on the character of the son. His original powers of mind were doubtless equal to those of his father, and his industry and learning far supe- rior ; but he was deficient in judgment and good taste, and therefore, with all his attainments, became rather an ex- traordinary than a great man. His character was a very mi.\ed one. You would regard him with wonder and admi- ration, but hardly with a feeling of entire confidence. His religious sense was as strong as his father's, but it was min- gled with more superstition, and was perpetually bordering on fanaticism, and running into the unprofitable obser- vances of the ascetics. The desire of being useful was clearly one of his powerful ruling principles, and few men have formed so extensive systematic designs of active use- fulness ; yet he injured this by talking too much about it, and by a little too much parade in it. It is not easy to ar- rive at satisfactory views of his character. There was a mixture in it of so many qualities apparently inconsistent, 166 THE OLD NORTH CHURCH. some exciting your veneration and some your pity, that it is difficult to arrange them in one view, so as to form a con- nected whole. While you look with astonishment at hia labors, and acknowledge his praiseworthy zeal, you are mor- tified and vexed to find the most excellent designs frustrated, and the most indefatigable exertions wasted, through the mere want of a discriminating judgment. It makes you mel- ancholy to observe, that, after a life of almost incredible in- dustry ; after publishing three hundred and eighty-two books, large and small, and leaving others of vast labor behind him ; * after years spent in unwearying efforts to do good, to extend knowledge, and promote religion, which, if well judged, might have placed him in the foremost rank of great men ; — his name and works are viewed by posterity rather as phenomena to be talked about, than as substantial blessings. His principal work, the Magnalia, has been much sought after as a curiosity ; and that it has been so regarded is proof sufficient that its merit is quite equivocal. As a storehouse of documents and facts relating to the early history of the country, it may be consulted with advan- tage ; t but it is so strangely written as to become heavy in the reader's hands, and so mingled with the credulity and puerility of the author's own mind, that even Neal, a contem- porary writer and correspondent, hardly ventured to cite * The principal of these is his favorite work, about wliich he was occupied for many years, Bihiia Jimcricatia, a learned illustration of the Scriptures of the Old and New Testament. It was proposed, after his death, to publish it in three volumes folio; but the design was dropped for want of sufficient encouragement. It is now in the library of tlie Historical Society. t *' He knew more of the history of this country," says Dr. Chauncy, "from the beginning to this day, than any man in it, and could he have conveyed his knowledge with proportionable judgment, and the omission of a vain show of much learning, he would have given the best history of it." THE OLD NORTH ClIURCir. 167 liim as an authority. Indeed, he was credulous to a deplor- able degree of weakness, giving easy credit to all tales of supernatural appearances, providential interposition, and diabolical agency, relating them as matters of sober his- tory, and by his authority and influence feeding the flame of superstition and persecution in which so many unhappy wretches perished on the accusation of witchcraft in 1G92. That he not only fell in with this popular delusion, but rather fostered and excited it,* I am afraid is too plain to be doubted. He set his seal to all that was believed and done, to the shame of himself and his country, by publishing on the subject what aided the fury of the times, and will wit- ness against him to the latest generation. * I confess I have not been able to see so clearly into this matter as I could desire. The whole history of that delusion, it appears to me, lies very much in the dark. In regard to the agency of" Cotton Mather, I presume it will not be questioned, though it may not be easy to decide precisely what was its nature or extent. Ncal makes it evident that he favored the delusion ; and Watts, in a letter to Mather, tells him, " Mr. Neal hopes you will forgive him that he has not fallen into your sentiments exactly." — Hist, of J\'. E. vol. i. Hist. Coll. vol. v. — But there is no necessity of going so far for tes- timony, while we have his " Wonders of the Invisible World," — the work to which I have alluded above. Mr. Brattle, of Cam- bridge, in a letter published in the Historical Collections, says that Increase Mather "did utterly condemn " the proceedings of this pe- riod ; and that " the reverend elders throughout the country, e.xcept three, are very much dissatisfied." Cotton Mather is not named as one of the three, and therefore, probably, when this letter was writ- ten, had clianged his opinion. For he did finally acknowledge, in writing, that things had been urged too far. Yet, in the life of his father, written tliirty-two years after the delusion was at its height, he expressed his firm belief that all was to be attributed to super- natural agency. I wish it were clear that he did not do more than any one in urging this belief to its fatal consequences. 168 THE OLD NORTH CHURCH. As a preacher, he difiercd much from his father ; having less strength, and more rhapsody, less dignity, and more declamation. The quaintness and singularity of his style was not well suited to the gravity of the pulpit, and appears to have been a subject of complaint even during his life- time.* And yet there was so much warmth and zeal, so much earnestness and sincerity, so evident and pious long- ing to do good, " his spirits were so raised and all on fire," — to use the expression of one who knew him well,t — that his faults seem to havesdisappeared in his excellences, and his preaching was impressive and effective. He seems to have been fond of dwelling on doctrinal subjects. " He was a vigorous defender," says his colleague, " of the reformed doctrines of grace, and of the mysteries of revealed reli- gion, which he ever regarded as the excelling glory of the Christian dispensation." In other words, he was a zealous Calvinist, and it is certain that he was quite thorough in its creed. He did not forbear to state its tenets in their most contradictory and revolting form, — as if he gloried in being able to set them before him in full array, and thought to magnify the merit of that faith, which could receive them notwithstanding their intrinsic difficulties.! He was as zealous in his adherence to the Congregational • Neal complains, in a letter to Dr. Colman, of "the puns and jingles that attend all his writings ; " and Mr. Prince, in his funeral sermon, says, that " in his style he was somewhat singular, and not so agreeable to tiie gust of tlie age." t Funeral sermon, by Mr. Prince. X This remark will be found principally exemplified in a sermon on election and reprobation, and his " Address " on Quakerism, entitled Little Flocks sruurdcd against grievous Wolves; also, in the complaints which he makes in the Magnalia of Ba.xter's departing, in some respects, from the strictness of the Calvinistic faith. THE OLD NORTH CHURCH. 169 mode of church discipline, as to tho articles of his creed. This was a matter of great interest at the early periods of our history, when all remembered it freshly as the cause in which their fathers were driven from their homes, and were exccedinor jealous of any attempt to innovate in matters of discipline, or to introduce, under any pretence, the burdens of the Episcopal church. " No church upon earth," he says, " so notably makes the terms of communion run parallel with the terms of salvation." * It was through this watchful and suspicious fear of innovation that the church was induced, in 1697, to send a letter of admonition to the church in Charlcstowii, " for betraying the liberties of the churches by putting into the hands of the whole inhabitants the choice of a minister." (l.'J) The sentiments which he expressed concerning toleration were much more just and rational than those which I have quoted from his father, and mark the growing liberality of the age. " Persecution," he says, " for conscientious dis- sents in religion is the abomination of desolation ; a thing whereof all wise and just men will say, ' Cursed be its anger, for it is tierce, and its wrath, for it is cruel.' " t He says elsewhere that he " abhors it ; has preached against it, and writ against it ; he would have the Quakers treated with all imaginable civility, and not have the civil magistrate inflict the damage of a farthing for their consciences." With an inconsistency, however, perhaps not very rare, he refrained from all " civility" in his own treatment of them, and took every occasion to abuse them and make them odious.| He is not, however, the only man who has imagined nothing * LollLT to Lord Barrinjrton. ! Riglit Hand of Fellowship, at the ordination of Mr. Prince, 1718. t Sec divers passages in the Magnalia, and liis Address, or Qua- kerism Displayed, wliich abounds with soinctliing like scurrility. 15 170 THE OLD NORTH CHURCH. short of imprisonment and the stake to be persecution. There are many, who, with the utmost virulence, have gone on destroying reputation and influence, while they were sedately talking of toleration and the rights of conscience, — as if they thought, with some theorists on government, that life, liberty, and property are the only good of man, and that influence and a good name, which make life, liberty, and property worth having, may be wantonly taken away with- out injustice. In the contrast which I have mentioned, between what is to be admired and what is to be deplored, it would not be strange if we erred in our estimate of his character. His foibles thrust themselves upon our notice, and will not be hidden, — while to learn what should redeem them, we must be acquainted with all the history and habits of the man. That there was something in these to redeem them, is clear from the great influence he sustained both in church and state, notwithstanding his palpable imperfections. He was more than once instrumental of great good to the state by this influence in times of excitement and confusion ; and in the church he was certainly an object of great respect ; and in spite of his assuming, to say the least, all the consequence that belonged to him, yet he was able to retain that conse- quence. Still it is clear, on the other hand, that it was then felt that something was wanting to complete the man; for in two vacancies * in the presidency of the college, when his unquestioned learning, and talents, and age gave him a clear claim to the office, and the people, who regarded him as a prodigy, called aloud for his election, yet the place was * In 170G, when President Leverett was chosen, and in 17*26, when Dr. Colman, Dr. Sewall, and Mr. Wadsworth were Rucces- Bively elected. THE OLD NORTH CHURCU. 171 denied him, and given to men his inferiors -in every respect, except judgment. This failing was palpable, and univer- sally admitted, and this prevented him from being one of the greatest of men. From his very childhood he had been distinguished by his attachment to religion and to books. He was graduated at the age of sixteen, the next year joined his father's church, and began to preach when eighteen, having, by great pains, cured himself of a stammering in his speech, which once threatened to forbid him the profession. Ilis ministerial gifts were at once appreciated, and having been for some time assistant to his father, he was ordained as his colleague May V.i, 1C85. (14) In this situation, the arduous duties of which he was far from slighting or neglecting, he was able to read and write more than any man probably ever did in America. " There were scarcely any books written," says Dr. Chauncy, " but he had some how or other got a sight of them. lie was the greatest redeemer of time I ever knew." This was the opinion expressed by all who knew him, and it gained for him many honors, and an extensive correspondence among distinguished men abroad. In the duties of the ministerial office he appears to have been eminently faithful and successful. He was much in the habit of private admonition and instruction, endeavorinoTj in his own peculiar way, to start some advice or reproof from every occurrence, and perpetually inventing new devices for doing good. " To do all the good he could to all," says one * who knew him intimately, " was his maxim, his study, his labor, his pleasure." — He was full of private labors to this end, and he favored and assisted many public insti- tutions for this object. It was he that, in spite of obloquy, * Mr. Prince. 172 THE OLD NORTH CHURCH. insults, and threats, introduced the practice of inoculation for the sniall-pox as a bar to the fatal ravages of that dis- ease ; and, with the same ardor and disinterestedness, gave his time to other purposes of public good, civil, as well as moral and religious. A book, which he wrote upon this subject of doing good,* is perhaps his most valuable work. Dr. Franklin attributed to it all his usefulness and eminence in life ; and I think no one could read it without receiving enlarged notions of his capacity and obligation to do good, and being stimulated to better attempts. With these active works of religion, he united an austerity of private disci- pline, that would have honored a monastery. He kept frequent days of fasting, and nights of watching, sometimes for two and even three days together — regularly once a month, and occasionally once a week. But it is impossible to proceed in particulars. I have (Tone far enough to show what I intended, that, notwith- standing his great defects, which strike you at first view, and cannot be concealed, he absolutely was, as he was always acknowledged to be, a most wonderful man. It is barely doing him justice to say, in the language of his col- league, t that "the capacity of his mind, the readiness of his wit, the vastness of his reading, the strength of his memory, the variety and treasures of his learning, in printed works and in manuscripts, which contained a much greater share ; the splendor of virtue, which, through the abundant grace of God, shone out in the constant tenor of a most entertaining and profitable conversation ; his uncommon activity, his unwearied application, his extensive zeal, and * " Essays to do Good." It has been republished within a few years, at Boston. f Mr. Gee's sermon on liis death. THE OLD NORTH CHURCH. 173 numberless projects of doing good ; these things, as they were united in him, proclaimed him to be truly an extraor- dinary person." When he died, it was felt as a public loss, and he was honored with a funeral of uncommon splendor. He was mourned, according to Dr. Colman's e.xpression, " as the first minister in the town — the first in age, in gifts, and in grace — the first in all the provinces of New England for universal literature and extensive services." (1-5) Cotton Mather was alone in the care of the church only four months during his whole ministry, Joshua Gee being ordained colleague with him soon after the death of his father. Mr. Gee is represented on all hands as having been a very superior man — not possessing popular talents, but of great profoundness and learning, excelling in argument, and capable of rising to any height of excellence; but, un- happily, of an indolent habit, which prevented his making that use of his advantages which would have secured to him the ascendency for which he seems to have been formed. His character was particularly n)arked with zeal and fervor. He was .somewiiat bigoted to high Calvinism, and somewhat bitter in controversy. He was an earnest promoter of the religious excitement which prevailed throughout the coun- try after Whiteficld's first visit, and refused to open his eyes to the evils which attended it, even after many of its friends had become convinced of their existence. And when the convention, in 1743, felt it a duty to bear testimony against certain errors in doctrine and practice, which prevailed to tlie great confusion of the churches, he warmly, and rather passionately, opposed them, and was the occasion of a separate convention in the following July, which issued a counter testimony. (1()) Witli all his great qu;dities, he was, as this transaction proves, rash and over-ardent; so 15* 174 THE OLD NORTH CHURCH, that Dr. Chauncy, who knew him well, said, " it was happy Mr, Gee had an indolent turn ; for with such fiery zeal, and such talents, he would have made continual confusion in the churches." His ministry in this church continued for twenty-five years. He had been an invalid for many years, and died, after a lingering illness, May 22, 1748, in the fifty-first year of his age. (17) He enjoyed the society of his venerable colleague but four years. When, at his death, the people looked round for one to succeed him, their choice fell upon his son, Samuel Mather, who was ordained over them June 21, 1732, about four years after his father's death, (18) He was recom- mended to them, not only by their respect for the ancient family, but by his own character for diligence, zeal, and learning, of which he certainly possessed an uncommon share. He had already made himself known by several publications, especially by his life of his father. He con- tinued in the ministry but nine years, when, on account of some dissatisfaction with his preaching, which was thought by some to be not sufficiently explicit upon certain points of doctrine, together with some other grounds of uneasiness, a division took place in the church, and he with one party withdrew, and erected a separate place of worship. This was in 1740 and '41, and possibly had some connection with the religious excitements of that period, about which his colleague, Mr. Gee, was so zealous. He continued to be the minister of a separate congregation until his death, at the advanced age of .seventy-nine years.* By his own direc- tions he received a private funeral. Most of those who at that time were worshiping witii him, returned to this church ; and some are with us still. " June 27, 1785. THE OLD NORTH CHURCH. 175 After the removal of Mr. Mather, Gee remained sole pas- tor, until, in his declining health, Samuel Checkley was united with him the year befurc his death. (10) He was the son of an eminent minister of the New South church, and is said to have been distinguished for a peculiar sort of elo- quence, and an uncommon felicity in the devotional ser- vice of public worship. He published nothing, except one sermon on the death of Mrs. Lydia Hutchinson, and left the records of the church so imperfect, that little can be learned from them of its state and fortunes during his connection with it. He died, after a ministry of twenty-one years, on the lUth of March, 17(>8. He was succeeded in the ministry by the late Dr. Lathrop, (20) whom you well knew, and whom all that knew honored. During his ministry, the Old North meet- ing-house was destroyed, and the church and congregation, formed a union with those worshiping in this house. Having thus brought down the account of the ancient church to the period of the union, I leave it for the present, that I may resume it in the afternoon, when I shall first have followed the history of the New Brick to the same period. SERMON XIII. THE NEW BRICK CHURCH. HAGGAl II. 3. WHO IS LEFT AMONG YOU THAT SAW THIS HOUSE IN HER FIRST GLORY i 1 Tins morning spoke to you of the origin, establishment, and history of the Old North church, and of the lives and characters of its ministers, until its union with the New Brick, at the close of the revolutionary war. I now go on to a similar account of the New Brick church. It originated in circumstances not very honorable or happy. It had its birth, not from the regular overflow of increasing popula- tion ; nor was it a separation of brethren in the spirit of Christian love ; but it was the offspring of heated passions and violent dissension. The circumstances, as far as can be positively ascertained, or are important to be known, ap- pear to have been the following : — The New North church was established in 1714. It was regularly and peaceably gathered in the necessary course of a growing population. They had ordained one minister, the Rev. John Webb, and, agreeably to the custom of the times, were desirous of settling another in connection with him. In consetiucnce of some irregularities in the proceed- ings of those who were most active in the affair, " they 7UE NEW BRICK CHURCH. 177 fell," as their records express it, "into unhappy and divided circumstances." The principal ground of division was ia regard to inviting a minister already settled. Many desired to call to this place Mr. Peter Thacher, then over the church in Weymouth, a preacher of great popularity. Oth- ers esteemed it contrary to Congregational usage and prin- ciples; and in this dispute, fermented probably by private and loc;U circumstances, of which we have little account, their passions became heated, and they approached at last, in a state of e.xasperation which gave little promise of niiaiiiinity, to the choice of a minister. The choice fell Ml)oii Mr. Thacher, which was ratified in the congregation by a majority of one, and that, it is said, was obtained by the casting vote of the minister. A great storm of trouble ensued. The ministers of the town, who unanimously agreed in disapproving the measures of the majority, inter- fered, and advised a reference of their difficulties to a coun- cil. This not being done, they gave the church to under- stand that they wished not to be invited to attend at the ordination. The ordaining council wms composed of only two ministers, one of whom came with the consent of his church, accompanied by delegates; and the other alone, in opposition to the vote of his church. The most violent attempts were made to prevent their proceeding, and it was only by being conducted by a private passage, that the council obtained possession of the meeting-house. Here a scene of the most outrageous and disgraceful tumult oc- curred. It is difficult to give credit to all the stories of the indecencies which were acted there ; it is certain, however, that after one more ineffectual attempt at a mutual council, the ordination proceeded in the midst of a disorder little inferior to the uproar in the theatre at Ephesus. The dis- contented members separated themselves, to the number of 178 THE NEW BRICK CHURCH. forty, and in the course of the next year erected the build- ing in which we now worship. ( 1 ) This house was dedicated on the 10th of May, 1721. A day of prayer and fasting was kept on the occasion, and two discourses were delivered, one by Cotton Mather, many of whose congregation were engaged in the new design, and the other by Mr. Wadsworth, minister of the first church, and afterward president of Harvard College. The house appears to have been regarded, at that time and for many years after, as a building of uncommon elegance and taste. The preacher expressed only the common opinion, when he said, "I suppose there is not in all the land a more beautiful house built for the worship of God, than this whereof you now appear to make a dedication to the Lord. But what will it signify," he added, " if the beauty of holiness be wanting?" A church was gathered amongst the worshipers. May 22, of the- next year, consisting of ten persons, six of whom were from the New North, and three of them had been original members of that church. (2) One of the dea- cons chosen at this time, Thomas Lee, lived to be ninety years old, and died in 1769, having survived all the original members of this church and congregation. On the same day, William Waldron was ordained the first pastor. (3) His ministry was short, being only of five years' continuance, when he died at the age of thirty. The interests of the church appear to have flourished beneath his care. If we may judge by the representations of those who knew him, he was a man of uncommon promise. In the many sermons which were published on occasion of his death,* he is spoken of, not in the language of common- * I liavc in my possession a volume containinir sermons on the occasion, by C. Mather, Webb, P'o.xcrofl, (with a dedication by Cooper,) and Wadsworth. Samuel Mather also publislied a sermon. THE NEW BRICK CHURCH. 179 place eulogy, but in the genuine accents of unaffected lamentation, and sincere respect and love. There appears to have been a mixture of the severity and simplicity of an apostle with affability and urbanity, wiiich secured to him respect as a minister and warm attachment as a friend. Ministerial courage was an eminent trait of his character, and this was united, as you might expect to find it, with great activity in the service of the gospel. His death ap- pears to have excited a very unusual sympathy, not solely, it would seem, on account of his own distinguished worth, l)ut as " he was the youngest minister by fourteen or fifteen years that had yet died in Boston," and because there had been, for several preceding years, a succession of deaths among the younger ministers almost as remarkable as that which has desolated our churches for the last twenty years.* These circumstances doubtless contributed, together with the rapidity of his disease, to produce the deep and general feeling with which he was lamented. t * " We have seen, within tliese few 3'ears, many other sorrowful instances of early death among those of the ministerial order, and many more among Christians of a private character. I could reckon up above a dozen in the ministry, that have, in a few years past, been removed by mortality in their youth, or in the meridian of their days, who were all useful in their places, and some of them emi- nently so. — Foxcroft's Sermon. lie gives, in a note, a list of twenty-one who had lately died with- in the state, of whom " several were under thirty, and the most not above forty." Within what period of time, it is not slated. Mr. Coo- per, refering to the same mortality, says, " The removal of valuable and excellent persons is, alas ! no uncommon thing in this land of dying." C. Mather, in the preface to his sermon, speaks in a sim- ilar strain. t Foxcrofl says, " I find his death as much regretted amongst us as almost any I have known ;" and Cotton Mather speaks of the ••sorrow, yea, a general, a very uncommon sorrow." 1,80 THE NEW BRICK CHURCH. After an interval of about six n>onths, William Welsteed, who had been for some time a respected tutor at the college, was invited to fill the place vacated by the death of Mr. Waldron, and was ordained on the 27th day of May, 1728. He preached his own ordination sermon. He continued to hold the office of pastor singly for a little more than ten years, when Mr. Ellis Gray was united with him as a col- league ; in which relation they remained together fifteen years. (4) During this period of time, I am unable to say particu- larly what was the state of the congregation. I cannot learn that it was remarkably flourishing or remarkably otherwise ; but it probably enjoyed about the ordinary share of pros- perity. The two pastors were not among the most distin- guished in town, though faithful and highly respectable men. During the great religious excitements of this period, they appear to have fallen in with the current. I find, how- ever, from a well-written, serious, animated sermon, de- livered in 1742, at an ordination, by Mr. Gray, that he was fully aware of the dangers and evils of that period, and did not hesitate to speak of the "discord, division, bitterness, clamor, wrath, evil-speaking, groundless surmises and jeal- ousies," which prevailed in the churches. Neither of the ministers, however, were among the leaders on either side, though possibly it was to his opinion on this subject that Welsteed alluded, when he said, in his last illness, " I have in some things thought differently from my brethren, but I thank God I have constantly meant well." It was at this period, that our evening lecture before the communion was established ; * and at the same time, the season of the communion was changed from every fourth • March 15, 1741. THE NEW BRICK CHURCH. 181 week, to the first Sabbath of every month. After two months, however, the vote was reconsidered, and the old term of rotation restored, which continues unchanged to the present time. It was during this period, the year after the ordination of Mr. Welsteed,* that the custom was dropped of singing by the separate reading of each line. In 1735, after much debate, it was determined to have two ruling elders in the church — an office which had become almost obsolete, and which, after this attempt to revive it, sunk forever. t In 1751, (July 10,) Watts's Psalms and Hymns were introduced in the worship of the Sabbath, and continued in use until superseded by Belknap's Collection, in 1817, (Nov. 9,) — a period of sixty-six years. The circumstances attending the death of these two min- isters were remarkable and melancholy. Gray died sud- denly on Lord's day, January 7, 1753, in the thirty-seventh year of his age and fifteenth of his ministry. We have little means of knowing intimately his character ; but he is represented to us as a man much respected, of early and uniform piety, remarkably given to hospitality, and direct- ing his life, says Samuel Mather, J as if he had perpetually in view Paul's description of his own conversation — "that in simplicity and godly sincerity, not by fleshy wisdom, but by the grace of God, he had his conversation in the world." If we might judge of his gifts in preaching by the two sermons which I have seen, we should assign him quite a • July 31, 1729. t This matter of the ruling elders was debated at numerous church meetings from March 17, 1735, to November 11, 1736; at which time only oue person (Deacon James Halsy) had been found to accept the office, and the church at last voted not to choose another. t Sermon after the death of Welsteed and Gray. 16 182 THE NEW BRICK CHURCIL respectable rank as a writer, and as a man of talents and piety. His colleague, Welsteed, survived him not quite four months. He died on the 29th of April, having been struck with palsy the preceding Sunday, just after the commence- ment of the morning service, having lived fifty-seven years, and been minister twenty-five. Here was the melancholy spectacle of a church in mourning for two pastors at once, both cut off suddenly in the midst of life. And to render the visitation yet more affecting, they both died of the same disease ; both died on the Sabbath, on the communion Sab- bath, at the same time of day ; each having preached for the last time to his own people, and the last sermon preached by both being on the same subject — " redeem- ing the time, because the days are evil." * Welsteed is characterized as a man of eminent sincerity and integrity, *' good-natured, contented, patient, and always ready to every good office of morality and religion, and conscientiously diligent in his ministerial labors, especially in his preparation for the pulpit." In preaching, it was remarked of him, that " he was careful not to insist on those points, about which wise and good Protestants have different sentiments ; " but confined himself to *' those doc- trines of religion, which are not disputed amongst sound Protestants, and the impressive duties of repentance, faith, love, and universal and constant obedience." This suffi- ciently expresses to us the nature of his views of religion, and it is corroborated by the circumstance that he derived particular support, in his last days, " from his upright walk before the Lord, and his consciousness of it." This fact is mentioned by the preacher, on his death, with emphasis, as if to mark the character of his faith.* * S. Mather's sermon. THE NEW BRICK CH0RCH. 183 After the death of Gray and Welsteed, the pastoral office was vacant eleven months, and was then filled by the instal- ment of Ebenezer Peiuberton, previously minister of a Presbyterian church in New York, and a preacher of un- common popularity, who attracted crowds by his captivat- ing manner. In the earlier part of his life, he had been chaplain at Castle William, and in 1727 * had been or- dained minister of a Presbyterian church^jn New York. The ordination took place in the Old South church, and Dr. Colman preached. After a ministry in that city of twenty-two years, he, together with his colleague, Alexander Gumming, were obliged to relinquish their places on ac- count of dissensions in the congregation, although it is said they took no part in the disputes. This was durincr the vacancy occasioned by the death of Mr. Welsteed, and he was soon invited to succeed him. The installation took place the 6th of March, 1754, and his ministry lasted twenty-three years. (5) It was during his ministry that tiie Old North meeting- house was destroyed ; and when the inhabitants returned to their homes, after the evacuation of the town, this meeting- house being sufficiently large to accommodate both concrre- gations, they worshiped together for three years, and then a junction was formed, which has proved perpetual. (G) Dr. Pembcrton died before this event, at the advanced age of seventy-two.t During the last years of his life, he had lost that extraordinary popularity which followed him at first, and his manner was thought to be even so disagreeable, that the congregation in consequence became extremely thin. lie was esteemed, however, as a faithful minister, and is stated to have been particularly remarkable for a V • August 9. t September 15, 1777. 184 THE NEW BRICK CHCTRCH, " fervid kind " of piety. " He vehemently aspired after the spirit of the gospel, and had the consolations of it during a long and trying sickness." * He was a strict Calvinist, the last minister of that faith in this church, in his earlier days exceeding zealous against heretics, though in later life he grew more candid. In these particulars he resembled Whitefield, of whom he was a warm admirer and adherent, and whose eulog||p he pronounced at his death. He was not a man of remarkable powers of mind, but well acquainted with books, and had the command of a style not only cor- rect, but elegant and oftentimes beautiful. He published a volume of sermons a few years before his death, on salva- tion by grace, which, besides the ordinary views of that subject, which you might expect from one of his faith, con- tain many appeals and exhortations that are not wanting in pathos and power. When Dr. Lathrop took charge of these churches, after their union, he had been ordained over the Old North eleven years ; and he afterward accomplished a faithful and honorable ministry of thirty-nine years. Of his life, char- acter, and labors, you do not need, brethren, that I should speak to you ; for they are familiar to your memories. Many of you have grown up from childhood under his min- istry, and retain for him a filial and affectionate respect ; and all can remember his venerable and serene old age, when for years he presented the only hoary head that ap- peared in our pulpits, was the father amidst a numerous clorcry much younger than liimself, and became an object of increasing interest and value as he drew nearer his home. No one, who ever knew him at all, can forget the benignity of his appearance, the apostolical simplicity of his char- • Dr. Eliot, Biog. Dictionary. THE NEW LliICK CHURCH. 186 RCter, his gentleness and affectionateness of disposition, and his devotion to the best interests of his country and of man. After a long life, in which he give himself much to public cares, and was the faithful patron of many of our best in- stitutions, he passed to his reward on the fourth day of Jan- uary, 181G, at the age of seventy-six years. His successor was ordained on the first day of the next year. (7) The history of the remaining lime I need not repeat. It has been a season t)f tranquillity and prosperity, for which we should be devoutly thankful. And I con- gratulate you, iny brethren, that the century, which began in discord And strife, we have seen close in perfect har- mony ; that the congregations, which separated from each other with hostile feelings and enkindled passions, we see walking together in love, and minding the things that make for peace, and uniting, as sister churches, in the nearest offices of Christian fellowship. Long, long may this con- tinue ; never may it be interrupted ; may no greetings, but those of love, ever pass between thorn; — but when, century after century, to the end of time, this day shall come round, may they be still found striving together only in love and good works — with one faith, one Lord, one baptism, one God and Father of all. We have thus looked back upon the history of this united church through a series of one hundred and seventy years. We have traced its ancient branch from that time, when there was but one otlier in the town, and when the whole neighboring country, instead of a flourishing land of civilized inhabitants, presented to view only an uncultivated desert, trodden by savages, with here and there a few settle- ments, which had been reared as cities of refuge for perse- cuted Puritans, — who tilled the fields with their armor girded on, and kept their Sabbaths and their fasts with 10* 186 THE NEW BEICK CHURCH. muskets by their sides. From that perilous and romantic period we have traced it, step by step, seeing it grow under the abundant blessing of Heaven, and the toils of celebrated men, till it has sent off one after another company to erect new altars to the Most High, and at length blended itself with a younger church, which it had favored in a day of weakness and fear, and then received again to its bosom the remnant of those, who had once gone from it in the day of division. We have traced the other branch from its birth, precisely a century ago, and followed it through the various discipline of God's judgment and mercy ; till at length it was reconciled to its sister, and received beneath its roof its venerable ancestor ; and now, to-day, we rejoice together in the way through which God has led us these forty years of our union. We notice the vicissitudes of the world, the flight of time, the providence of God toward our land, and gather lessons of wisdom from a consideration of the past. We look up to Him who planted and watered this vine, and has caused successive generations to see its beauty and partake of its fruit, and exclaim w^ith the pious king of Israel, The Lord our God be with us, as he was with our fathers; let him not have us nor forsake us! In the period which we have been thus surveying, two changes have taken place of such magnitude and impor- tance, that they cannot escape our observation. The first is in regard to the ol)servance of the ordinances of our faith. In the d:ivs of our fithers, the number of those, who felt so far bound to their religion as to observe its peculiar rites, was much larger than amongst ourselves. During the min- istry of the Mathers, the average number of those amuially admitted to the communion of the church was twenty ; in several years, rising above fifty ami in that preceding the death of Cotton Mather, amounting to seventy-one. The THE NKW BRICK CHURCH. 187 number during his ministry was eight hundred and forty- eight — more than the whole number of communicants for the last seventy years. With respect to the other ordinance, the difference is quite as remarkable. The number of bap- tisms during the last thirty-nine years of the period just mentioned, was three thousand tliree hundred and eighty- four ; being a yearly average of eighty-six, and rising, in several instances, to more than one hundred and thirty. This shows the difference of Christian fidelity in regard to the positive appointments of religion. Not that there is probably less real Christianity. There is no reason to believe that the general mass of the community is worse in faith or in practice than at that time ; in many respects, it is certainly better. But in those days, there was a strict adhe- rence to all the forms and externrJ observances of the gospel, on which it was the character of their faith to lay peculiar stress ; whilst we are too much satisfied with a very general regard to what we call the spirit of religion, and are i)rone to undervalue its positive institutions. So that, while our places of public worship are as fully and seriously attended, and the purposes of Christianity, in ordi- nary life, as well accomplished, the table of the Lord witnesses a thinner attendance,* and more of our children grow up without baptism. It is undoubtedly a better under- standing of the nature of our Lord's kingdom, which ele- vates the spirit above the form. But why will not men * Thoiiirh I spoak liore in genoral terms, 1 refer particularly to this church; for 1 am not able to decide how far it may be warrant- ed as a general remark. I know myself of many exceptions. To take, for e.xample, the church In West Boston : it appears from a sermon lately published by the pastor, that the admissions to that church for the last sixteen years have been twenty on an average ; which is equal to the best days of the Mathers. 188 THE NEW BEICK CHURCH. learn, that they may avoid one extreme without rushing to the other ? When will they feel the force of that admoni- tion of our blessed Lord — These ought ye to have done, and not to have left the other undone 7 The other change to which I alluded is that which has taken place in the views of religious faith, which have been here presented and professed. This is a most important and happy change. The church was established on those doctrines, into which men settled when they first broke from the Romish domination, which had been confirmed amidst the passion and excitements of contention with the English hierarchy, and were finally set in an authorized form during the violent storms of a civil and religious war. These doctrines our ancestors held, and the founders of this church received them as they were fashioned and ex- hibited by the assembly of divines at Westminster. One of the eminent Puritans, the minister of the first company of pilgrims, had warned our fathers not to bind themselves to the faith as then established. His great mind perceived that the reformation was not yet accomplished. He was as- sured, he said, that God had still more light to break forth from his holy word ; and he exhorted them not to stick where Calvin and Luther had left them, for they saw not all things. And yet, for a long time, there they did stick. But at length the light he had predicted broke forth, and the eyes of one church after another were opened. For nearly fifty years, the doctrines of Calvin have not been heard within these walls ; but a milder, happier faith has won sinners to iieaven, and comforted the hearts that tremble at God's word. Brethren, I congratulate you on the change. I rejoice with you that we are not bound down to any form of words of human device, nor enslaved, by the fear of man, to any set of opinions published to the world by THE NEW BRICK CHURCH. 18d pope, council, or assembly. I joy with you, that we can say o-day, " The Bible only is our creed ; we drink from none bul this fountain of living waters ; we have not committed, and we will not commit, either of the two evils, the forsaking this, or the going to other cisterns, broken cisterns, that can hold no water." You cannot value your privilege too highly. If there be any loud call for your gratitude to-day, it is for this blessing, in which it has pleased God to distinguish you beyond your fathers. And I entreat you, consider, if they, less favored in the rights of conscience and the inestimable blessing of religious liberty, were yet so devoted and zeal- ous men, of whom the world was not worthy, — consider what manner of persons you ought to be in all holy conver- sation and godliness. Put not from you their love of the Scriptures, their faithful attendance on the public and pri- vate worship of God, their eminent and firm attachment to principle, their fidelity in the religious education of their children. Let it never be said, that with increasing priv- ileges there is a decreasing religion. But, as you hope at last to join them in that world, where your errors and their errors shall be alike removed, and all shall see with one eye, let it not be then found, that with your better knowledge you have fallen short in the race, while their higher attain- ments rise up to your shame and condemnation. The occasion reminds us what a changing and dying world we live in. This house has stood for a hundred years ; and who is there left amonff you that sair it in its ^rst glory ? Every one of the crowd that thronged it then has long since departed to his eternal home. Five succes- sive ministers have labored here, and gone to their account. Even in the memory of many present, every scat has changed its occupant. You seek the friend.s whom you once met here, and they are gone. Time has more than 190 THE NEW BRICK CHUECH. once swept clean these seats; and how soon will it be done again ! The celebration of a day like this no man can hope to see twice. When Xerxes looked upon his immense army, and thought that in a hundred years not one of that multitude would be living, he was overcome by the reflec- tion, and wept aloud. I would not have you ivcrp, brethren, as the same thought passes your mind in looking round you now, — for the Christian in his church should regard time and death with other views than the heathen at his army's head, — but I would to God you would pause and consider. The time is short. A century ! What is a century 1 Ask the man of eighty, who has almost seen that term, and he will tell you it is as yesterday when it is past ; it is but as a day and a night, and he that has survived it does not feel that he has lived longer than when he had lived but twenty years. Yet in that space what changes occur ! The strong men and women, and the very children of this assembly, shall in that time be no more numbered among the living ; the youngest child here, yea, the very infant "that we have this day offered in baptism shall have witnessed all the for- tunes of life, and perhaps worn a gray head for years, and perchance grown weary of a helpless and burdensome old age, and then slumbered for years in the mighty congrega- tion of the dead, before a century shall close. In a century, cities flourish and decay, the boundaries of nations are broken up, and the earth changes all its inhabitants again and again. Observe what has taken place just around you during that vvliich has now passed. Instead of eleven churches in this town, you find twenty-eight, and all have been built or rebuilt within that time excepting two.* You find a flourishing city instead of a small town, a sovereign state * The New Brick and the Old South. THE NEW BRICK CHORCII. 191 for a dependent colony, a mighty nation for a few scattered provinces. And who can number tlie changes in the old eastern world ! — the improvements that have carried the sciences and arts to an uneiiiiuUed perfection, and the con- vulsions and revolutions that have removed again and again the landmarks of empire, and elevated the low and depressed the high amongst the nations, like the heaving of the earth in the throes of an earthquake ! All this has been ; and yet what is a century ? He that should have lived through all, and look on the world in its present state, would almost feel as if the whole had been eftected in a moment, by the wand of enchantment : — the time has fled like a dream. What, then, will time be to those, who know, as we do, that we have probably a small part of such a period to live! O that we miffht learn so to number our days, that we should apply our hearts unto wisdom ! Finally, brethren, permit me to congratulate you on the prosperous condition in which this day finds you. These walls have stood a hundred years, — and they still stand firm. Whilst you have seen most of your sister churches compelled to destroy the ancient temples, in which they and their fathers had worshiped, lest they should fall upon them in ruins, and burdened with the costly labor of rearing other places of worship, you have the privilege of still assembling in this hou.se of your ancestors, consecrated by age, and by the devout breathings of great and pious men of the times that are gone by ; where the word of life has been preached to four successive generations, where every spot is hallowed as your appropriate religious home, and the very ground on which you stand is holy. There is something solemnly pleasing in the thought, that the walls which are echoing back the voice of your preacher and the songs of your praise, have resounded with those of venerable men, whose praise 192 THE NEW BRICK CHURCH. is in all the clmrches, that have long been sleeping in the dust, and are strangers to all themes but those of jreligion. And there is something delightful in the hope, that our children and children's children shall sit where we have been sitting, and seek the inspiration of Heaven on the same spot where we have found it. This hope, my friends, is yours. God, it is true, may commission his elements, and they shall shake this house to its foundations at once. The earthquake and storm have hitherto assailed it in vain, and it has thrice been rescued from devouring flames.* Another visitation may destroy it without remedy. But in the ordi- nary course of Providence it may see this day return, and listen to the devout thanksgivings of those who shall assemble here — without one of us amongst them — to cele- brate the mercy of Him, who, in the midst of change and death, is forever the same. And when that day shall come, O, may it find our children wiser, and purer, and worthier than we. If God have any more light to break forth from his Word, may it be theirs to see it and rejoice in it. And we too will rejoice in it, — as we doubt not the spirits of the good men that came up here to dedicate this house are rejoicing in the greater light which God has poured upon us. May that day find all the darkness of error and super- stition which clouds our faith removed, and all the sins which defile our lives banished, and as many surrounding the table of their Lord, as worship at the altar of their God. Happy they that shall see that day ! Thrice happy they that shall walk in that light! Yea, hapj)y even these * A memorandum of Deacon Tudor, in 1779, informs us that "the sudden judgments of an earthquake, terrible storm, and fire have all three done damage to the meeting-house within his remem- brance ; " and records three instances in which it was in imniinent danger of being consumed by fire. THE NEW BRICK CHURCH. 193 venerable walls, that shall have witnessed the gathering knowledge and growing virtue of many generations, and shall then hear prayers of warmer devotion, and the out- pouring of hearts lifted nearer to heaven, and shall learn something of that purer and more perfect worship, which is to be the employment and glory of the temple above ! In that temple there shall be no change of day and night, and no revolution of time ; a thousand years shall be but as one uninterrupted day; and no returning century sh;dl warn us that life is drawing nearer to its close — for that life shall have no close. In that glorious temple, in that unchangincr day, may it be our happiness to meet those venerable saints, who have crowded these courts before us, and the multitude of our posterity, who shall have received the beginning of that life on this spot, where their fathers worshiped. This is our heart's desire and prayer — that the power of the gos- pel may always be exhibited here in preparing men for salvation. " And in that great, decisive day, When God the nations shall survey, May it before the world appear, Thousands were bokn to cLoKr here ! " 17 NOTES TO SERMON XII. (1) p. 155. The names of those first gathered in the church were, Michael Powell, James Ashwood, Christopher Gibson, John Philips, George Davis, Michael Wills, John Farnham. The original cove- nant is an instrument of some length, not at all in the manner of articles of faith, but simply an expression of unworthiness, of de- pendence on Jesus Christ, and of resolutions to walk agreeably to the gospel. The form, which was adopted and used in the recep- tion of members afterward, was in these words : — " Tou do, in this solemn presence, give up yourself, even your whole self, you and yours, to the true God in Jesus Christ, and to his people also, according to the will of God, promising to walk with God, and with this church of his, in all his holy ordinances, and to yield obedience to every truth of his, which has been or shall be made known to you as your duty,- the Lord assisting you by his Spirit and grace. " We, then, the church of Christ, in this place, do receive you into the fellowship, and promise to walk towards you, and to watch over you as a member of this church, endeavoring your spiritual edification in Christ Jesus our Lord." (2) p. 155. Samuel Mather was the son of Richard Mather, who came from England, for conscience' sake, in 1635, and was for many years a worthy minister in Dorchester. He was nine years old when he accompanied his father to New England, and was m the second class tliat was graduated at Harvard College. He was so much be- loved as an instructor afterward, tliat, on his quitting the place, the students " put on tokens of mourning in their very garments for it." He went to England in 1650, to the disappointment of more than one church, which had greatly desired his settlement. After five years spent in England and Scotland, he went to Dublin, and be NOTKS TO SERMON XJI. 195 came senior follow of Trinity College. Here, upon the king's restoration, he preached two sermons against the revival of the ceremonies of the English church, which were full of power and spirit, for which he was silenced.* He then returned to England, and preached with great reputation, until the act of conformity, in 1662, under which he was one of the two thousand sufferers. He then returned to his church in Dublin, and preached to them with- out molestation, in a private house, the remainder of his life. He died October 29, 1671, aged 45, greatly respected, and of extensive reputation as a preacher. During his last residence in Dublin, he had a pressing invitation from one of the churches in this town, according to Dr. Calamy, to become their minister. (3) p. 156. There is little known of Mr. Mayo, excepting what is contained in the records of the church, in the handwriting of Increase Mather. I copy it here, because it has often been said, that nothing is known of him, e.tcept that he was minister of the Second Church; and the records have been so carelessly examined, that in the " Collections of the Historical Society," (iii. 258,) it is asserted, that " neither the time of his ordination, nor decease, is to be found in the records of the church." " In the beginning of which year, [1672,] Mr. Mayo, the pastor, likewise grew very infirm, inasmuch as the congregation was not able to hear, and be edified ; wherefore the brethren (the pastor manifesting his concurrence) desired the teacher to take care for a supply of the congregation, that the worship of God maybe upheld amongst us, which was, for the present, by him consented to, as Christ should enable him. " On the 15th day of the 2d month, 1673, Mr. Mayo removed his person and goods also from Boston, to reside with his daugh- ter in Barnstable, where, (and at Yarmouth,) since he hath lived a private life ; as not being able (through the infirmities of old age) to attend the work of the minstry. The day of 3d month, [May,] 1676, he departed this life at Yarmouth, and was there buried." • These sermons I met with in the Boston Athenaeum, and found in them passages in the finest style of that peculiar Puritan eloquence which is so happily imitated in Walter Scott's romances. 196 NOTES TO SERMON XII. I will add, here, that, through the kindnoss of the Rev. E. Q. Sewall, who examined, at my request, the church and town rccordfl of Harnstable, I have learned that Mr. Mayo was one of the original settlers of that town, but from what place he came, does not appear. The Hon. John Davis has also favored me with the sight of a pas- sage, in the records of the Plymouth church, which informs us that Mr. Mayo was teacher in the church at Barnstable, while the Rev. John Lothrop was pastor there, and was thence removed to East- ham, [Nauset,] upon the gathering of a church in that place, and was afterward settled in Boston. The Rev. Mr. Shaw, of Eastham, in- forms me that he cannot find that such a person ever was minister in that place ; that, previous to his own settlement, there had been but three ministers, Mr. Treat, Mr. Webb, and Mr. Cheever, with the exception of Mr. Osborn, who removed to another part of the town, now called Orleans. He thinks, therefore, that Mr. Mayo's residence must have been only occasional in the town. That noth- ing of Mr. Mayo's ministry appears on the church records of East- ham, does not, I think, argue any thing against his having been minister there ; for he left no records at all of his ministry in Bos- ton, and, if it were not for the testimony of other men, would not be known to have resided here. (4) p. 157. This fire broke out at five o'clock in the morning, No- vember 27. It burnt forty-five dwelling-houses, and several ware- houses, besides the meeting-house. Its progress was stopped by a heavy rain. The following vote is all the notice contained in the records of this event. It would appear from the last clause, that it was customary, at that time, for some of tlie pews to be entered by a door through the side of the house. '♦ At a church meeting at our Deaqon Philips his house, 3 of tenth month, 1676. " Voted and agreed, tliat Mr. Richards, brother CoHicot, brother Philips, brother Tyrii, brother Hudson, be appointed as a committee, in order to the rebuilding of a meeting-house, for the comfortable attending the public worship of God, and that Mr. K , Mr. W. Taylor, Mr. Middiecot, and Mr. Anthony Clieckley, be desired to join with the committee, in order to the transacting tiiis affair. It was also agreed, that, in case any that built pews in the meeting- house should see cause afterwards to leave them, the pews should NOTES TO SERMON XII. Id7 be disposed of, not by them, but as the church should see cause. And that no petes should be made with a door into the street." (5) p. 157. This was in 1682. Whether there were no gallery before, or whether this were an additional gallery, is not absolutely certain. The records of the church only say, " It was agreed that a gallery should be built for the boys to sit in, and that the place where they at present sit should be improved for pews." The probability is, that this was the gallery, which, as 1 have been told, ran along behind the pulpit. (G) p. 158. The first was Richard Mather, born in 1596, who, hav- ing suffered for nonconformity, came to New England, in 1635, and was ordained pastor of the church in Dorchester, August 23, 1636. He was "a distinguished ornament of the churches," very useful in the several synods of that century, an able writer in their defence, and a solid, judicious preacher. Mr. Higginson, of Salem, speaking of his reply to Mr. Davenport, said, that " he was a pattern to all the answerers in the world." He died April 22, 166'J, while mod- erator of a council in Boston, — which occasioned the following epitaph : Vixerat in sijnodis, moritur moderator in illis. He left four sons : Samuel, the first, was mentioned in a former note. The second, Nathaniel, born in England, March 20, 1630, and graduated at Harvard College, 1647. He was minister, for some years, in England, and being ejected among the two thousand, in 1662, went to Holland, and settled at Rotterdam ; succeeded his oldest brother, at Dublin, in 1671 ; afterward took charge of a church in London ; and died July, 1607, aged 67. "There is upon his tombstone a loner Latin inscription by Dr. Watts, which ascribes to him a high character for genius, learning, piety, and ministerial fidelity." The tliird son, Eleazar, was born May 13, 1637, and graduated at Har- vard College, in 1656 ; was ordained first minister at Northampton, in 1661 ; and died July 24, 166!>, aged 32. He appears not to have been inferior to either of his brothers. The fourth son was Increase, born June 21, 163'.), graduated 1656. (7) p. 158. Increase Mather began to preach tlie year after leaving college, and, upon invitation from his brother, in Dublin, sailed for England, July 3, 1657. He proceeded master of arts, in Trinity 17* 198 NOTES TO SERMON Xll. College, Dublin, the next year, "performing the usual exercise with great applause," * and was chosen fellow ; but not being able to remain on account of ill health, went to England, and for some time preached at Torrington ; then went to the Island of Guernsey, as preacher, on invitation of the governor ; from thence, at the solici- tation of his friends, removed to Gloucester, and again, after some time, returned to Guernsey, where he was at the time of the resto- ration. It was then required that he should conform to the estab- lished church, or give up his living, and he accordingly returned to England. Here " he was offered a living of several hundreds a year, if he would forsake his principles ; but he chose rather to trust God's providence than violate the tranquillity of his own mind; " * and therefore he returned to New England, after an absence of four years. In a memorandum now before me, written with his own hand, he says, "Providence so ordered, that, the bishops and cere- monies prevailing in England, I was constrained (that so I might keep my conscience pure) to leave tliat land ; and being strangely disappointed and released, as to an engagement I was under to go for Holland, I was returned to New England in September, 1661." He was, the next week after his arrival, invited to preach at the North Church, and continued preaching until ordained. May 27, 1664. His father gave him the charge. I have said, in the sermon, that his settlement was conditional. The conditions were, " If hereafter the Lord should call me to greater service elsewhere, or in case of personal persecutions, wherein not they, but I, shall be aimed at, or of want of health, or if I should find that a competent maintenance for me and mine should not be offered, — then (my relation to them notwithstanding) I would be at liberty to return to England, or to remove elsewhere." From tiie account of his son in the Remarkables, it seems that he was far from having a comfortable mainteniftice during many years, and was even distressed witli poverty. (8) p. 159. This is according to the representation of Hutchinson and others. The following minutes in the church records would aeem to give a little different complexion to the affair: — " October 30, 1687. After the sermon and service of the after- noon ended, I desired the brethren of the church to stay in the * Nonconforraist's Memorial, ii. 246, 24C. NOTES TO SERMON XII. 199 metituag-houBC, and proposed to them, that their o&cers might, in thi'ir name, draw up an address of tJianks to the king for his decla- ration, wherein he does promise us the free exercise of our religion, and that he will maintain us in the enjoyment of our rights and pos- sessions. I told the bretliren I would take their silence for coa- eent. All were silent. Nemine contradicente. "December 11, 1G87. I desired the brethren to stay, and ac- quainted them that it was thought needful that some one should be sent with an address of thanks to the king, for his gracious decla- ration ; and that it had been proposed to nie that I should go on the service. I told them, if they said to me, go, I would cast myself on the providence of God, and go in his name ; but if they said to me, stay, I would not stir. " Major Kichards and Way declared their willingness and free consent tliat I should go. I said to the brethren, if any of them were otherwise minded, I desired they would express them- selves. Also, I would take their silence for consent. They were, then, all silent, and so did unanimously consent." The account in the Remarliuhlcs agrees with this: "The supe- rior gentlemen thought that a well-qualified person, going over with the addresses of the churches to the king, miglit obtain some relief to the growing distresses of the country." The voting of addresses was strenuously opposed by many, who thought they discovered Fopery at the bottom. Hutchinson quotes a letter from President Danforth to Mather, dated November 8 of this year, in which he expresses his apprehensions very strongly. (9) p. 160. He was twice chosen president of the college ; first in 1681, when he declined the office, because his church refused to part vvitii him ; and again in 1684, when he accepted it on the con- dition of still retaining his relation to his church. He relinquished the place in September, 1701, on account of an act of the General Court, requiring the president to live at Cambridge. In the Re- markables of his life, it is intimated that this vote was aimed against him, personally, and was a measure which his enemies carried for the very purpose of removing him. Dr. Eliot, in his Biographical Dictionary, attributes his resignation to the pressure of age and infirmities. I find only the following vote of his church on this subject : — 200 NOTES TO SERMON Xll. "The brethren of the church, being assembled, at the desire of the governor and the General Assembly, and messengers from both houses in the General Assembly coming to them with a motion that they would consent unto the removal of their teacher's residence to the college in Cambridge, — the ensuing vote was passed: Being under the sense of the great benefit we have long enjoyed, by the labor of our reverend pastor, Mr. Increase Mather, among us, it must needs be unreasonable and impossible for us to consent that his relation to us, and our enjoyment of him and them, should cease. " Nevertheless, the respect we have to the desire and welfare of the public does compel us to consent that our good pastor may so remove his personal residence to the college at Cambridge, as may be consistent with the continuance of his relation to us, and his visits of us with his public administrations, as often as his health and strength may allow it." (10) p. 161. The expressions quoted in this place are from his Election Sermon, 1677. Sentiments and passages of a similar char- acter may be found in his two sermons on the Comets, 1680 and 1682, in his volume of sermons on Providence, 1688, and in his series of discourses on the Beatitudes, 1717. When I made this reference, I intended to quote here a few re- markable passages of some length ; but my Notes are swelling to such a size, that 1 am forced to omit them. (11) p. 162. It was not till after the sermons were in the press, that 1 was al)le to procure the Rcmarkahles, or I should have modi- fied the statement in this paragraph. In the thirteenth article of that book, we have an account of his change of sentiments on the subject of toleration ; by which it appears that the expressions I have quoted represent him only as he was in the earlier part of his life. This article is by far the best and most eloquently written passage which 1 have met with in all Cotton Mather's works. Probably much of the illustration, and even the language, is taken from his father. (12) p. 163. The treatise here referred to was published in 1683, and gives "an historical account of all the comets which have appeared from the beginning of the world," together with "the NOTtS TO SEEMON XII. 80Jl remarkable events which liave followed them," and, as he supposed, were predicted by tliem. It is a work of considerable labor, show- ing an extensive acquaintance with history, and written in a very good style. The credulity of the age peeps out in some curious stories, wiiich I intended to copy when I referred to this place, but am compelled to omit for want of room. (13) p. 169. "1697, 4d. Gra. [August.] This day the church voted a letter of admonition to the church in Charlestown, for be- traying the liberties of the churches in their late putting into the hands of the whole inhabitants the choice of a minister." I have noticed this vote particularly, because it is sometimes at- tempted to make us believe that the choice of ministers by the people, instead of tlie church, is a modern innovation, opi)Osed to the uniform usage in times past. Here is an example to the con- trary, of as long ago as one hundred and twenty-four 3'ears ; and the example and opinion of the church in Charlestown are as valu- able in settling the question of usage, as those of any other church. It satisfies us that usage is not invariable, and that the principle, so far from being settled, was actually contested from the first. Ac- cordingly, Cotton Mather acknowledges, " Many people would not allow the church any privilege to go before tliem in the choice of a pastor." — Ratio Discipline:, p. 16. — And from the following passage, (^Rat. Disc. p. 17,) it is evident that the congregation had not only, in some instances, claimed and exercised the right against the church, but that the church had often found it necessary, in order to pre- serve the appearance of a control, which they lelt they could not exercise, to resort to so numerous a nomination, as to leave none for the people to choose whom they had not chosen. "The churches do sometimes, by their vote, make a nomination of three or four candidates, for whom the majority of the bretliren have so voted, that whomsoever of these the choice falls upon, it may still be said, the church has chosen him." So that, even at that lime, the prin- ciple was so far acknowledged unsound, as to be satisfied with a mere form and show. (14) p. 171. Cotton Mather was invited to assist his father in preaching once a fortnight, September 27, 1680, (having been grad- uated two years.) The following February, he was requested to 202 NOTES TO SERMON XII. do it " once every Lord's day." In December, 1682, the church expressed their great satisfaction, and desired that his labors might still be continued, with a view to his settlement. In January, 1683, they gave him a unanimous call, and another impatient one in August, 1684. There is an error in the sermon respecting the date of the ordination. It was in 1685, as will be seen by the fol- lowing extract from the church records : — "2d month, [April,] 5th day, 1685. The brethren staid in the meeting-house, and unanimously consented that the 13th day of May should be the day for my son Cotton's ordination as their pas- tor ; and that letters should be sent to the two churches in Boston, to Charlestown, Cambridge, Roxbury, Dorchester, to desire them to send their messengers to give us the right hand of fellowship ; that Mr. Allen and Mr. Willard should be desired to join with myself in imposing hands." (15) p. 173. The ministry of the two Mathers continued during sixty-four years, besides nearly three years that passed before the ordination of Increase. The record of church members during this period is very careful and complete, there being no less than three separate catalogues. The whole number is eleven hundred and four. The record of baptisms is complete only after the year 1689, from which time to 1726, (thirty-nine years,) the whole number re- corded is three thousand three hundred and eighty-four. The first instance of any one being received to baptism by the half-way covenant, as it is called, appears to have been January 15, 1693, when I find the following minute : " Received into cove- nant Mary Sunderland ; and her son John baptized. They being the first so admitted, in pursuance of the church's addresses unto me for that purpose and practice." The half-way covenant has been laid aside since April, 1786. Collections for charitable and religious purposes were frequent dnrinf this period, and I have been surprised at the amount of them. £62 for redeeming captives from the Indians ; Jt53 for redeeming two persons from Turkish captivity ; £80 for relieving three young men from the same ; £AA for the relief of the poor inhabitants of frontier towns in the east ; £53 at fast for the poor ; and £60 the same year, at thanksgiving, for propagation of the gospel ; and in 1726, a large contribution was distributed, partly for the support of NOTliS TO SERMON XII. 203 the niinistry in destitute places, and partly for the distribution of Bibles and other pious books. The church had an " Eran^rlical Treasury," for the purpose of promoting religious objects, and dis- tributing Bibles, from which considerable sums were frequently ap- propriated. Tliis was not very different from a Bible society. It may gratify some to see, in this connection, a copy of a mem- orandum, which I. found amongst Deacon Tudor's papers, of the collections in the different churches "for the sufferers in the great fire, March 20, 1760, on and round Oliver's Dock, part of King Street, &c." It may serve as another link between the charity of Boston, at the present day, and the year 169d, when C. Mather said, m a sermon, " For rhtirltij, — ! may, indeed, speak it without flat- tery, — this town has not many equals on the face of the earth." Brattle Street, £3407; Old South, 1860; King's Chapel, 060; West Church, 'JO'2 ; First Church, 1050 ; New Brick, 445; Old North, 418; New North, 1467; Mr. Mather's, 140; Federal Street, 209; Mr. Cundy's, 188; Mr. Bound's, 145. (16) p. 173. The pamphlet published by the Convention was entitled " The Testimony of the Pastors of the Churches in the Province of the Massachusetts Bay, in New England, at their an- nual Convention in Boston, May 25, 1743, against several Errors in Doctrine, and Disorders in Practice, which have of late obtained in various Parts of the Land, &c." Mr. Gee published " A Letter to the Rev. Nathaniel Eells, Moderator of the late Convention, &c., containing some Remarks on their printed Testimony." In this he complains that the title of the pamphlet was calculated to mislead ; that the pamphlet itself was adapted to give false impressions abroad and at home of the state of the churches ; tliat, owing to the thin- ness of the Convention, the real opinion of the ministers of the province was not represented ; and that no testimony was suffered to be brought forward in favor of the revivals in the land ; and, in order to attain these objects, he publishes the design of another meeting of ministers, to be held the day after Commencement, [July 7.] The result of this meeting was "The Testimony and Advice of an Assembly of Pastors of Churches in New England, &c.,y which, at the same time that it spoke favorably of the great religious work, acknowledged that it was accompanied with evils and dangers, and warned against them. It was signed by fifty-three NOTES TO SERMON XII. ministers, and by fifteen others, who added a stronger protest against itinerancy, and the intruding into parishes without consent of their ministers. Besides these, separate testimonies to about the same purport, from absent ministers, were added in an appendix, and increased the whole number of names to one hundred and eleven. Gee's attack upon the Convention was answered very satisfac torily by Mr. Prescott of Salem, and Mr. Hancock of Braintree, who make it evident that he wrote in great hastiness of temper, and under the influence of what he regarded a personal affront. They prove several of his statements to be incorrect, and completely de- fend the doings of the Convention. Dr. Chauncy, who had been personally assailed by Mr. Gee, defended himself in a letter pub- lished in the Boston Evening Post, of June 24th, and Mr. Gee, according to Mr. Hancock, retracted. Another meeting of the " Assembly " was held in September, 1745, when a further defence was attempted of the religious excite- ments of the country. This second " Testimony " was signed by Prince, Webb, and Gee, of Boston, and twenty-one others. There were also published, in this feverish season, two " Testi- monies " of laymen against the prevalent evils of the churches. (17) p. 174. Mr. Gee's parents were members of this church, to which they were admitted by dismission from the old church, May 2, 1697. He was himself admitted to the church. May 13, 1716; was graduated at Harvard College, 1717 ; called by the church, October 22, 1723; ordained December 18. [He had been a candidate at the New Brick, with Mr. Waldron, in 1721, and had a call to settle in Portsmouth in 1723.] The council consisted of " the six churches of the united brethren, in this town, and the church in Roxbury." C. Mather gave the charge. On the llHh day of the next February, I find tlie following record of C. Mather : " The first baptism ad- ministered by Mr. Gee ; and, indeed, the first that has been admin- istered bj' any hands but those of Mather, (father and son,) in the Old North Church, for more than half a hundred years together." It would seem, from the records of the church, that Mr. Gee wns a great promoter of prayer meetings for the revival of religion, which were frequently held during his ministry. The church is also indebted to iiiin for the establishment of a library, for the U8c NOTES TO SEHMON XII. 20ft of its pastors, to wliich he made large donations of valuable books. The church originally exercised a constant superintendence over its concerns by a committee, and provided, occasionally, for its in- crease. For a long time, however, this has been neglected, and many of the books have been lost. There are now about a hundred volumes, principally old folios, and many of them very valuable. It was during the ministry of Mr. Gee, in 1733, that the cele- brated difficulties in the first church in Salem occurred, which occasioned its exclusion, for some time, from the communion of many of the churches of the state. The Old North Church, aa appears from the records, which are full and minute upon this sub- ject, took an active and leading part in this work of incjuiry and discipline. After writing to and visiting the church and minister in Salem, it summoned an ecclesiastical council to proceed in the business, and "join with us in taking the second step of the third way of communion, wherein we have been visiting the first church of Christ in Salem." The minister and church refused to be dis- ciplined, and were, in consequence, shut out from Christian fellow- ship for many years. It is not until October, 1745, that I find a letter of penitent acknowledgment, entreating to be restored to communion, was received and acted upon by the Old North Church, who took off the sentence of non-communion, with the express exception of the late niinister. (18) p. 17-1. Mr. Mather was chosen Jaifuary 28, 1732, by sixty- nine votes out of one hundred and twelve. The council at his or- dination was composed of the churches of Boston, Roxbury, Charles- town, and Cambridge. Dr. Colman gave the charge. Tlie number of the church that withdrew with him were thirty men and sixty-three women ; the number that remained were eighty men and one hundred and eighty-three women. The date of their dismission is December 21, 1741. The house which they built [at the corner of North Bennct Street] is now occupied by a society of Universalists. (19) p. 175. Mr. Checkley wag ordained September 3, 1747. The churches invited to the council were, the First Church, the New South, the Old South, Brattle Street, New North, New Brick, and the church in Charlestown. The church in Hollis Street was 18 206 NOTES TO SERMON XII. afterward added. Mr. Gee being at this time confined by sickness, the father of the candidate was requested to give the charge. The conjunction of church and society in the management of their temporal concerns first took place in May, 1760 ; at which time, it was' agreed, that tlie committee, chosen annually on the first Tuesday of May, should consist of the deacons, together with five members of the church, and four of the congregation. (20) p. 175. The preliminary steps to the choice of Dr. Lathrop were taken by the church and society March 10, 1768. It was in- tended to ordain him as colleague to Mr. Checkley, who had been for a long time dangerously ill, and died on the 19th day of the same month. The election was made by a unanimous vote, both of church and congregation ; the number of the former being twenty- five, and of the latter sixty-seven. The ordination took place May 18, 1768. The council was composed of the churches of Norwich and Lebanon, Connecticut ; the Old South, the New Brick, the New North, and the churches in Mollis Street and Brattle Street. Dr. Sewall was moderator. Dr. Eliot introduced the service with prayer ; the pastor elect preached from Philip, i. 17, — Knowing that I am set for the defence of the gospel ; Dr. Pemberton prayed and gave the charge ; Dr. Sewall then prayed ; and Mr. Byles gave the right hand of fellowship. The practice of reading the lines of the psalms separately was abolished May 26, 1771. In January, 1773, a monthly church meeting was established for encouragement and assistance in matters of religion. April 16, 1786. After several meetings, the church renewed their covenant engagements, with a new " declaration of faith, and form of confederacy-" At the same time, a system of discipline and order in regard to baptism and the Lord's supper was drawn up and established. The chief design of this was, to remove the obstacles which prevented the access of Christians to the table, to abolish the half-way covenant, and provide for the baptism of the children of every baptized parent, receiving no public confession of faith, except from those who design to keep all the ordinances of the Lord. Up- on this system the church has ever since acted. NOTES TO SERMON XIII, (1) p. 178. I BELIEVE that I have fairly stated the controversy at this time, which has not, even yet, lost all its interest. Some small circumstances I have gathered from tradition, but principally from the pamphlets published on this occasion, which I found in the Bos- ton Athcnroum, — to which copious repository of choice and rare publications relating to the history of this country I am under many obligations. The first is, " An Account of the Reasons why a con- siderable Number, (about fifty, whereof ten are Members in full Com- munion,) belonging to the New North Church, in Boston, could not consent to Mr. Peter Thacher"s Ordination." It has this motto : " Ministers shall not be vagrants, nor intrude themselves of their own authority into any place which best pleaseth them." It is a pamphlet of sixty pages, being a collection of documents interwoven with an angry history of the whole matter. In reply, there is " A Vindication of the New North Church from several Falsehoods spread in a Pamphlet lately published, &c. ; by several Members of that Church ; " to which are added two postcripts, by Mr. Webb and Mr. Thachcr. Then was advertised, but I do not know whether it was published, " An Answer to a scandalous and lying Pamphlet, intituled A Vindication, «fcc." The New North people wrote with most moderation, though they were clearly in the wrong ; while the advocates of the New Brick, though on the right side, lost all com- mand of their temper, and wrote with great heat and passion. Tiiere was also published " A brief Declaration of Mr. P. Tliach- er and Mr. J. Webb, in Behalf of themselves and their Church." This was in reply to a pamphlet of Increase Mather, entitled " A Testimony to the good Order of the Churches; " blaming the pro- ceedings of the New North as anti-Congregational, and threatening them with ecclesiastical discipline and censure. Webb and Thach- 208 NOTES TO SERMON XIII. er declared their intention to conduct regularly, according to Con- gregational discipline, and defended their doings as such. The two Mathers sent a letter to the dissatisfied party the day pre- ceding the ordination, earnestly entreating them to be quiet, and do nothing disorderly. It appears to have had no effect. " July in, 1722. It was agreed upon, and voted, that the sacra- ment of the Lord's Supper should be administered in the revolution of every fourth Sabbath, from August 12, 1722." (2) p. 178. The names of those gathered into a church state, at this time, were, Alexander Sears, Solomon Townsend, William Lee, Nathaniel Loring, Moses Pierse, Daniel Pecker, Josiah Baker, Henry Wheeler, John Waldo, James Tilestone. S. Townsend and W. Lee were chosen the first deacons. The original covenant is not a profession of faith, except so far as a belief in the Christian religion, and in the doctrine of the Trin- ity, is asserted ; but is rather an engagement to walk strictly in the commandments and ordinances of the gospel. It being the custom of many churclies, at that time, to require a relation of the religious experiences of those who offered themselves for admission, a vote was passed, (August 9, 1722,) " that we would receive them with, and encourage their making of relations according to the usage of many of our New England churches ; but will not impose them on such as we shall find averse to them. But, upon having our charity satisfied any other way, we will look upon them meet for our fel- lowship, and admit tliein to it." The persons who commenced the building were in number twen- ty-four, whose names are recorded in the proprietors' books. The number increased to forty before the work was completed. The building committee (chosen December 12, 1720) consisted of John Frisel, Thomas Lee, Jonathan Montfort, Alexander Sears, James Tileston, James Pecker, and Edward Pell. This last-named gen- tleman drew the plan of the house. The choice of pews was made May 8, 1721, the first choice being given to John Frisel and William Clark, " for their good- will and great benefactions to said work ; " then to the building committee ; and then to the other proprietors, in an order determined by lot. At the dedication. Dr. Increase Mather was first desired to preach but excused himself on account of his great age. He commenced NOTES TO SERMON Xllt. 209 the morning service with prayer, wliich was closed with prayer by Mr. Cooper. The afternoon service commenced with prayer by Dr. Cohnan, and was closed by Mr. Prince. A timepiece was presented to the church, by Mr. Barret Dyre, in June of this year. It kept its place in the meeting-house until 1820, when it was removed, and its place supplied with a new one, at the expense of Samuel Parkman, Esq. There was no cellar under the house until the year 1762. It was completed at the cost of a thousand pounds, and, after some ditiicul- ties, paid for by subscription. In front of the pulpit were originally two pews, the one for the elders' seat, the other for the deacons' seat. They were thrown into one in 1766, "as has been lately aone at the Old North, and at Mr. Cooper's," (Brattle Street.) A second gallery was originally built only at the west end, and never, I believe, on either of the other sides. This was closed up and converted into a hall for a singing-school, and other purposes, in 1808. A vote passed in January, 1751, " to build an upper gal- lery for the women at the east end of the meeting-liouse, if the money can be raised by subscription." This, however, was not accomplished. There was no access to the gallery, originally, ex- cept by stairs within the meeting-house, of which there were three flights ; at the north-west, south-west, and south-east corners. The stairs in the north-west corner were removed in . The south porch was so altered as to contain stairs for the accommodation of the singers in 1801. In 1821, it was taken down, rebuilt of a larnrer size, so as to contain stairs of an easy access, and those which re- mained in the soutii-east and south-west corners were removed. At the same time, all the remaining square pews were taken down, and long pews erected in their room. The first bell was hung in 1743, and the same year the meeting- house was for the first time painted. This bell was removed and sold in 1780, and the bell of the Old North, which was larger, was hung in its place. It M-as injured in ]7!)2, and forbidden to be rung, except in case of fire, till it was recast in the same year, and was the first bell from the foundry of the late Paul Revere, Esq., which appears by the following inscription upon it : " The first church bell cast in Boston, 1702, by P. Revere " 18* 210 NOTES TO SERMON XIIl. (3) p. 178. Mr. Waldron was chosen minister September 26, 1721, by a vote of the proprietors, fifty out of sixty-three. The other votes were for Mr. Gee. At his ordination, Mr. Sewall com- menced with prayer ; Dr. Cotton Mather preached from 1 John iv. 7 ; Dr. Increase Mather gave the charge; Mr. Wadsworth the right hand of fellowship; and Mr. Waldron closed with prayer. " August 23, 1725. Voted, that Mr. Waldron be supplied with constant help for six months ensuing from this day." A vote of this nature was frequently passed in both churches, while there was but one minister ; it being thought that the strength of one was in- adequate to the whole duty. Mr. Waldron died September 11, 1727. (4) p. 180. January 16, 1727. Mr. Welsteed was chosen by a vote of fifty-four out of sixty-four. At his ordination, Mr. Sewall and Mr. Cooper prayed ; Dr. Colman gave the charge ; and Mr. Walter the right hand of fellowship. " One of the first acts of the church after this ordination was, to reconsider and renew the vote about relations, passed August D, 1722. A truly Christian act." The reading of the Scriptures, as part of the public service, com- menced in 1729, as appears by a vote of April 14, — "That the Bible Captain Henry Deering has made an offer of to the church, in order for Mr. Welsteed's reading and expounding, be accepted." December 22, 1736. Mr. William Hooper received a unanimous call to settle as colleague with Mr. Welsteed. He, however, on the 3d day of the next month, received a unanimous call from the West Church, on that day gathered, over which he was ordained. May 18, 1737. He afterward received Episcopal ordination, and was rector of Trinity Church. In January, 1731, fifty pounds were collected at a contribution for the relief of the inhabitants of Marblchead, distressed by the small- pox. Mr. Gray was elected by a unanimous vote, April 3, 1738. The council at the ordination consisted of " the united churches in Boston, the churches of Runmy Marsh, (Chelsea,) Roxbury, Cam- bridge, and Charlcstown." The pastor elect preached from Isalih vi. 5 — 8 ; Mr. Welsteed and Mr. Webb prayed ; Dr. Colman gave the charge; and Dr. Sewall the right hand of fellowship. The part NOTES TO SERMON XIII. 211 t&ken by Mr. Webb is, the earliest notice we have of a reconciliation with tlie New North Church. "August 22, 1739. Unanimously voted, to desire Mr. James Halsy to take his proper place in the eider's seat, " Voted, to leave tlie affair of making a stairway In the western- most porcli with the committee." Tliis was never done. (5) p. 183. Dr. Pemberton was chosen, December 31, 1753, by a vote of fifty-four out of fifty-six, two persons not voting. The vote uf tJie ciiurch was unanimous. He had resigned his charge at New York, by advice of the synod, on the 18th of November, and was at tiiat time in correspondence with this church, who had expressed their strong desire to receive him as their minister. Part of this correspondence appears on the pages of the proprietors' records ; as also a copy of the doings of the synod, by which he was dismissed with honor, and recommended as " a regular minister, of an exem- plary, pious conversation ; who has, to an uncommon degree, main- tained the dignity of the ministerial character; eminently endowed with ministerial abilities, whose labors have been acceptable and highly esteemed throughout these churches." The council at the installation, March 6, 1754, consisted of the First, tlie Old South, and the New North churches. By whom the several parts wej-e performed I cannot learn. No entry is made Upon the church book of records during Dr. Pemberton's ministry, except the names of a few baptized and admitted to communion. The catalogue of church members, from the beginning, is exceed- ingly imperfect, so that no estimate at all can be made of the number. It was during his ministry, [August, 1757,] that taxes were first laid for the support of the gospel in this society. Dependence had been previously had upon voluntary contributions collected every Sunday ; but this mode had been found the occasion of so much confusion, embarrassment, and debt, that it was now abolished. For many years, the income was insufficient to pay Dr. Pember- ton's salary, and he every year generously relinquished his claim to the deficiency. " October 7, 1762. Voted, that the singers sound the base at the end of the lines whenever they think proper." I copy this vote simply because I do not know what it means. 212 NOTES TO SERMON XIII. In 1763, an attempt was made to settle a colleague with Dr. Pera- berton, and Mr. Tennant was the man intended for the place. Cir- cumstances, however, prevented the design from being accom- plished. In May, 1771, the First Baptist Church requested that the use of the New Brick meeting-house might be allowed them for worship, during the time that they should be building ; and accordingly, from June 23 to December 8, the two congregations worshiped together, their ministers preaching alternately the half of each Sabbath. Dr. Stillman's first sermon was preached from Psalm cxxxiii. 1, and his last from 2 Corinthians xiii. 11. In this place, also, it may be men- tioned, that in June, 1802, when the New North society were about rebuilding their meeting-house, an invitation was given them to attend worship with this church, and the two congregations united in the services of the Sabbath until the completion of the new meeting-house, in May, 1804. (6) p. 183. The British troops, during the blockade of Boston, treated the churches with particular disrespect. The steeple of the West Church they destroyed, because they supposed it had been used as a signal-staff; the Old South tliey turned into a circus or riding-school ; the Old North they took down for the sake of the fuel, of which its massy timber atforded abundance; "although there were then large quantities of coal and wood in the town. The house, which was built in 1677, was in very good repair, and might have stood many years longer, had not those sons of violence, with wicked hands, razed it to the foundation." — Church Records. The two societies worshiped together from the 31st of March, 1776; but the plan of perpetual union was not proposed until May 6th, 1771). On that day, which was the day of the state fast, a vote was passed, " that the two said churches should be united as one body," and a committee was appointed, of three from each society, with the deacons, to take the necessary measures toward accom- plishing the nfi'air. The committee on tlie part of the Old North were, Samuel Austin, Colonel Proctor, and Joseph Kittel ; of the New Brick, William Paine, Newman Greenough, and Thomas Hichborn. The deacons were three ; John Tudor, Brown, and Greenougli. The committee reported on the 27th of June, and the union took place without one dissenting voice, in the most am- NOTES TO SERMON XIII. 31^ icable manner, and under the ntjost auspicious circumstances. Tlie wliole proceedings are recorded by Deacon Tudor, witli great minuteness. In January, 1780, Dr. Lathrop's salary was raised from one hun- dred to two hundred dollars a week ; in May to four hundred; in September to eight hundred. In December, JC2000 were raised to purchase his winter's wood. The large Bible, which was used in the Old North Church, was presented by the committee, in behalf of the society, to the Second Church in Newton, at the time of Mr. Greenough's settlement there, in Ijftil. In \~6l, I find record of a baptism, by immersion, of a child about ten years old, at the particular request of the mother, " a bathing- lub being prepared for th;it purpose in the meeting-house." (7) p. 185. On this occasion, the Rev. President Kirkland in- troduced the religious service with prayer ; Dr. Ware preached from Phil. iv. 17: I desire fruit that may abound to your account; Rev. Mr. Fiske, of West Cambridge, made the ordaining prayer; Dr. Allyn, of Duxbury, gave the charge ; Rev. Mr. Parkman pre- uented the right hand of fellowship ; Dr. Holmes, of Cambridge, made the concluding prayer. 1 have said nothing in the sermon of the synods in which In- crease Mather was engaged. At the time of his arrival from Eng- land, in IGGvJ, till' country was much excited and divided about the result i)f the synod whieii had set in the spring of that year, and which had published certain propositions relating to church mem- bership. The firth of these, which provided, that the children of all who have been baptized in infancy, and are not scandalous in life, and make public profession of faith, are entitled to baptism, — was the occasion of warm discussion. Mr. Mather, thojigh but a 3'oung roan, distinguished himself in the opposition to the sj-nod, who ap- pointed Mr. Mitchel, of Cambridge, so much praised by Baxter, to answer him. Mather was convinced by the arguments of Mitchel, and afterwards published in defence of the proposition he had op- posed. The other writers in the controversy were Dr. Chauncy, president of the college, against the synod, who was answered b/ 214 NOTES TO SERMON XIII. Mr. Allin, of Dedham ; and Mr. Davenport of New Haven, who was answered by Mr. Mather the elder, father of Increase. He was also an important member of the synod of 1679, by which he was appointed one of the preachers, and moderator at its second session, in 1680. This was the Reforming Synod, called together to consider " What are the evils that have provoked the Lord to bring his judgments on New England .' and what is to be done that so those evils may be reformed.' " Mr. Emerson, in his History of the First Church, informs us, that this was occasioned by the long- continued controversy between the First and Old South Churches, and that the inquiry was, in fact, aimed against the Old South. SERMON XIV* MEANS OF PROMOTING THE SPREAD AND GLORY OF THE GOSPEL. 2 THESSALONIANS III. 1. BRETHREN, PRAY FOR US, THAT THE WORD OF THE LORD MAY HAVE FREE COURSE, AND BE GLORIFIED, EVEN AS IT IS AMONG YOU. The design for which the public institutions of our re- ligion are maintained, and its teachers set apart, is so well expressed in these words, that they offer a suitable introduc- tion to our remarks on the present occasion. They declare the object which we purpose to promote, in ordaining our brother to the work of the holy ministry. They describe the end for which he is to labor in the fulfilment of his min- istry. They express that spirit of devout dependence upon God, which should occupy the hearts of those who are this day to receive a pastor. " Brethren," says the apostle, " pray for us," the ministers of Christ, " that the word of the Lord " — that word which we preach, which is God's truth, and the sanctification of man — "may have free • Delivered at the ordination of the Rev. WilHatn Henry Fur- ness, as pastor of the First Congregational Unitarian Church in Philadelphia, January 12, 1825. 216 MEANS OF PROMOTING THE course and be glorified " — may have a wide and unob- structed prevalence, and be an object of the admiration, aP- fection, and faith of mankind. This is the object of our prayers and labors. This is the object to which we devote our brother. It may not be un- suitable to the occasion to remark on some of the means by zohich this object may be effected ; which I shall attempt to do under the two divisions suggested by the text. I. 1. In the first place, the circulation of the Scriptures is a powerful means of effecting this object. They are, in one sense, the word of God, though not in the sense of our text, as the New Testament did not exist at the time of the apostle's writing this epistle. This volume is the repository of those facts and instructions on which the whole system of our religion rests. The more widely, then, it is known, and the more carefully it is studied, the ,more generally will religious truth prevail; and if any errors have been mingled with it in its passage down to the present age, the more readily will they be removed. One chief cause of error is want of knowledge. Men uphold false systems, because they are ignorant of the true. And the great book of truth cannot be familiarly in the hands of all, exercising its rightful influence over minds and hearts, and yet the do- minion of error and falsehood stand. The evil at present is, that the Scriptures are neither suthciently read, nor with sufficient freedom. The many still pay too great deference to their theological standards and religious superiors, and to the impressions of early years. They suppose that they know their religion already, and, therefore, either do not study the Bible at all, or they study it for some other pur- pose than that of learning. So that the light of truth is prevented from reaching their understandings and hearts, either by closing the volume which contains it, or by clos- SPREAD AND GLORY OF THE GOSPEL. '217 ing their eyes when the volume is opened. Whatever is done, then, toward promoting the frequent, studious, intelli- gent perusal of the sacred volume, is so much for the ad- vancement and influence of the gospel ; and as it was the bringing out of the Scriptures from their hidden places, which shook the power of the Papal throne, so it is the thorough removing of the veil from them, and introducing them freely and fearlessly to the understandings of men, which shall insure the dominion of the consistent and glo- rious gospel. 2. The prevalence of religion is to be ensured by the maintenance of public worship — a means the more partic- ularly to be noticed, as it is the principal object for which Christian societies are organized. The influence of this is incalculable. No one can doubt, who reflects but for a moment, that more is owing to it than to all other causes ; and that no mode of diffusing and perpetuating knowledge, and the influence of knowledge, has ever been devised, to be compared with the wisdom of this. Public worship among the heathen was quite a different thing; for it was not familiar, social, and personal, and, above all, it was not attended with regular instruction concerning truth and duty. It was rather the magniticent spectacle of a high festival, which gratified the senses with its opulence and pomp, but had no concern with the intellectual and moral nature. In the Christian system, it addresses itself to the hearts of men, to their interests, feelings, and wants. It exercises its power over individual character. It meets the people in all their little communities, renews, at short intervals, its les- sons on the most important truths, and maintains an unin- termitted oversight of their moral sentiments and habits. It is impossible that the effects should not be vast. This silent, steady, uniform operation must act upon the moral 19 218 MEANS OF PROMOTING THE world, like the quiet and equal warmth of the sun upon the vegetable creation. The action of one day may seem insig- nificant ; but the constant and permanent action works won- ders. Men are sometimes led, doubtingly, to complain, that no greater effects are witnessed. They should con- sider that this institution of our religion is a vast and ex- tensive machine, operating on an immense scale. A single congregation is but one of the little wheels in the compli- cated arrangement, and may seem to move on without bring- ing much to pass. We must survey it in its connection with the whole. We must think of this action as exerted upon a whole people, and as going on from year to year, and from generation to generation. We must consider what society would be without it. Level with the ground your places of social worship. Let the voice of the preacher be hushed. Let the people be no more collected to hear of their duties to God and to one another. Let the seventh day be undistinguished — no respite from the vain pleasures and passionate bustle of worldly pursuits ; no intermission of the eager chase of enjoyment and gain ; but from year to year, generation after generation, let the whole community be given up to temporary interests, unrcminded of God and eternity. It is ca.sy to conjecture the religious ignorance and moral desolation that would ensue, and how rapidly the march would be taken backward to the melancholy condi- tion of the heathen. AVhat reflecting man is not aware that a large portion of the Ciiristian connnunity have no knowledge of their religion, except what they gain from the weekly services of God's house? They are excited to read the Scriptures only by the impulse which is given there. And therefore the institution of public worship is that which sustains among men, certainly the salutary innuencc, and probably the very existence, of Christianity itself Without SPREAD AND GLORY OF THK GOSPEL. 219 this, indeed, it might be known to the studious and inquir- ing, just as the systems of Plato and the Stoics ; but its blessings would not be diffused, nor its holy and rejoicing light be shed upon the dwellings and poured into the hearts of its now countless votaries. There is a striking illustration of the truth of these remarks in the history of the Jewish people. Th'S OF PROMOTING THE the mind which heartily receives them with holy and pure devotion. Such is the simplicity of the gospel in those doctrines through which it operates on men. This representation, I am aware, does not acknowledge in the Christian system some of those features which are by many thought to belong to it, and to constitute its essen- tial glory. It may seem to such less imposing ; it certainly offers less gratification to that thirst for the mystical and mysterious, which some are so anxious, to gratify, and which is so strong a propensity in the human constitution, that, if I believed in the original corruption of human nature, I might be inclined to number this among those depraved passions which are inimical to the truth. I certainly con- ceive it most consistent with the character of a revealed religion, that its revelations be clear and distinct, not wrapped up in obscurity and mysticism. They may not be within the grasp and full comprehension of the finite mind ; but the mind must be able to know tchat they are ; other- wise they are not revealed. Yet there has always been amoniT men an unwise cravinor for what is mysterious, va?Tue, inexplicable ; for whatever oppresses and overwhelms the imagination, and is in some degree an object of terrific emotion. It is this which has in all ages created the insati- able curiosity to search the secrets of the grave : which has called forth the tales and terrors of supernatural apparitions, and the cruel and bloody superstitions which appertain to sorcery and magic. It is the same propensity which has led to the loading of all religions with fearful and dismaying appendages. A plain religion, which men can understand and explain, seems to them not sufficiently removed from human things, not sufficiently awful and distant, too well adapted to poor human understanding. They would have SPREAD AND GLORY OF THE GOSPEL. 233 shadows, clouds, and darkness rest upon it ; they would believe and worship they know not what. When, therefore, Christianity came to them, plainly and frankly, to walk with them and converse with them as a familiar friend, they were both astonished and dissatisfied : they thought it ought not to be so. simple as it appeared, and soon persuaded them- selves that it was not ; then they obscured it under the fol- lies and fancies, mysteries and forms, notions and specula- tions, which they had brought with them from their heathen faith and heathen philosophy. History tells us how sadly the pure doctrine soon became disfigured by the incorpora- tion of pagan rites and philosophical dogmas; more and more obscured as the age grew darker and darker, until, in the midnight of the barbaric ages, it could hardly be dis- tinguished, amid its disguises, for the plain system of Christ. A single example of this may well illustrate this general position. In the early day. of Christianity, a synopsis of the Christian doctrine was drawn up, which has come down to us under the name of the Apostles' Creed. This describes what, was then thought to be the orthodox faith ; and it represents the gospel so nearly according to its Master's sim- plicity, that at this day the heterodox Unitarian subscribes it as heartily as the orthodox Trinitarian, and with far more consistency. But at the council of Nice, so great progress had been made in adapting the gospel to the human love of the marvellous, that a new creed was fashioned, containing many very subtile and unintelligible distinctions. After a yet further lapse toward barbarism, a yet further adapta- tion was requisite ; and then came forth the full maturity of the Athanasian Creed, containing not only the most wonder- ful mysteries which a degenerate age could express, but the most hearty curses a profligate age could utter. These three creeds may be fairly regarded as three raonuraeuls, by 20* 234 MEANS OF PROMOTING THE which the ingress of the dark ages was marked. And in like manner they may serve to signify the progress of the light of the reformation. The Athanasian Creed is hardly named among Protestants, except with pity and horror. For even the members of that church which still commands it to be read thirteen times a year, pay it neither deference nor respect. The Nicene symbol is fast losing its authority and veneration. As knowledge and candor gain ground, the churches are more and more satisfied with the plain exposition of the Apostles' Creed ; many have even gone back to the true creed of the apostles in the Holy Scriptures. Would to God that the progress of the reformation had been more rapid and more thorough ! But the same causes which rendered it necessary have contributed to retard it. We are not to expect, therefore, that the church will return at once to the simplicity that is in Christ. It is too plain and unpretending : yet, in truth, -this is its glory ; at present too little recognized, too much despised; yet a wonderful and unspeakable glory. There have been those who would not believe in the remedy which God has in late years pro- vided for the most loathsome of diseases, because it is so simple; and just so, many will not believe that so simple a gospel can work the regeneration of the world, and there- fore they would fill it with wonders. Let ns, brethren, re- ceive it as it is, as it lies in the Scriptures of truth. Let us not be anxious for other wonders ; the greatest of all won- ders-is its simplicity. And nothing which the invention of man has added, or can add, could so demonstrate " the wis- dom of God and the power of God." Besides the doctrinal portion of our religion, there is, I observed, its preceptive portion, which also operates as a chief means towards effecting its great design. Under this division there is a simplicity equally remarkable, though it SPREAD AND GLORY OF THE GOSPEL. 235 is unnecessary to enter into so full an illustration. Nothing can be less complicated or obscure. The directions con- cerning duty are plain and comprehensive ; not needlessly multiplied, and so referable to a few great principles, as to be liable to no doubt, forget fulness, or mistake. Love to God and to men is their substance. Whatever is inconsistent with this is forbidden ; whatever is conformable to this is duty. Love is the fulfilling of the law : he who cherishes the principle will never be guilty of a breach of the law. There is needed no extensive learning, no deep and labori- ous investigation, no profound and intricate ratiocination, to ascertain what the Lord requires of us; no volumes of refined casuistry, or metaphysical discu.'ssions, which should make it a " very learned, subtile, and ingenious thing to be a Christian." But the path is plain, and the directions unembarrassed ; and the wayfaring man, though a fool, need not err therein. Such is the character in which the gospel must be pre- sented, if we would secure its true and permanent glory. I pass to remark more briefly, in the next place, that, if we would cause it to be glorified, we must advocate it with zeal. The success of every cause, of whatever nature, is greatly dependent on the spirit of its friends. It is for them to present its claims, to urge them on the notice of nien, to awaken attention to them, and to excite interest in others by evincing that it has had power to interest themselves. IIow many arduous and almost impossible enterprises have been achieved by the simple force of the ardor with which their conductors prosecuted them ! IIow many excellent plans, of no very dilHcult accomplishment, have been suf- fered to fail merely for want of zeal and enterprise in their behalf! With this truth impressed upon us by all the experience of the past, we cannot look for the gospel to pre- 236 MEANS OF PROMOTING THE vail, in an opposing world, except it call forth the zealous co- operation of its friends. It never has been so, it never can be so. God has made the energy of man to work its preva- lence in .times past, and he has not changed the constitu- tion of things. Throughout the history of the church, it has been the " fervent in spirit" who have commanded the attention and homage of men. Zeal, even when degener- ated into fanaticism, and separated from the aids of reason, has gathered followers and gained power. And reason, except when allied with zeal and active perseverance, has been little able to maintain, much less to extend, her rightful dominion. God forbid, then, that the greatest and most important of all causes should be treated by its friends lightly and coolly ; and that, through any apprehension of being charged with " madness," they should avoid the earnest and burning "words of truth and soberness," and the ready self-devotion of those who "spend and are spent" to promote magnifi- cent designs. A man without zeal lives to the condemna- tion either of his own heart, which is incapable of high moral fervor, or of his profession, which is unworthy of it. Zeal is doubtless a different thing in different men. In some men, it cannot be excited to that passion which it displays in others. But every man is susceptible of a moral energy of action, a devotion of spirit to some favorite object ; and this is zeal — capable of cultivation and growth. Let it be cultivated and grow in the friends of religion, if they would advance tiicir religion. It excites attention, sympathy, and cooperation. It is the spring of successful action. It is in character wliat eloquence is in language. It gives a man surprising power over the minds of otliers ; it enables him to excite the hearts of the coolest, and engage the exertions of the most indolent. To act for a great cause coldly is as SPREAD AND GLORY OF THE GOSPEL.. 237 disgraceful as to plead for it sluggishly ; and to do either is lo aid in defeating it. It were better to be fanatical than in- diflfereut ; for then it might at least be seen that our religion has power to move and agitate. But where reason presides over the religious affections, tlie last thing to be appre- hended is fanaticism ; and success is not to be hoped or expected, except men be addressed with fervor and earnest- ness, and their moral feelings be engaged by the beauty, grandeur, and excellence of what is in itself so holy and sublime, and so fitted to insure the perfection of the human cliaracter. At the same time, if we would cause the truth to be glo- rified, it must be advocated with charity. There must be no bitterness, nor clamor, nor wrath, nor malice, nor evil speaking, in the Christian's zeal. All these are contrary to his Master's spirit, and hinder his cause. The spirit of intolerance and bigotry has been one of the principal ob- stacles to the progress of the church and the improvement of man. It has led to the assumption of authority which Christ never delegated, to the uttering of anathemas which his word does not warrant, to the imposition of creeds which bind ihe truth in fetters, and deprive the soul of its lawful light and liberty. Let all this be discouraged, here and elsewhere. Wherever Christ's proclamation of liberty has been heard, let not the pretensions of human bigotry be tolerated. It has shed the best blood of the church, and impiously striven to blot out the names of good men from the Lamb's book of life. In this blessed land its dungeons have been destroyed, and its fagots extinguished, and it has been cast down from the throne of power, where it wielded the magistrate's sword. But it still lodges in many an unhappy bosom, and blasts, with the venomous breath of its mouth, reputation, influence, and peace. As we honor 238 . MEANS OF PROMOTING THE the name of our Lord, let us wage against this foe a war of extermination. Let us not rest, nor hold our peace, till its power be utterly trodden under foot. Watch against it, pray agauist it, preach against it. Let not a word nor a thought plead for it in this holy place. No, my brother, though your people, with the madness of Israel when he asked a king, should clamor for a creed that might exclude their own faith from improvement, and other be- lievers from their fellowship, or should press you to fulmi- nate from this place the denunciations of reviling and ill-will which have sounded from other pulpits, resist them to the utmost, and pay any price rather than so far forget the spirit and example of your Lord. And if you, brethren, should ever find in your pastor this sad breach of holy charity, fail not to remind him that he is unfaithful to his trust, and enter your loud protest against this dishonor to a good cause, this desecration of a holy office. True religion will triumph only as it is free. You set limits to its empire whenever you abridge the right of free inquiry, or allow any man to place himself on the judgment-seat of Christ, or nourish in your own bosoms a censorious temper and a spiritual ambition. But, above all, in the last place, there is nothing which will so tend to promote the honor of the true gospel, as the faithful and consistent lives of its friends. Its highest eu- logy is read in their elevated and uniform devotion, their trust in God, their equanimity in change and trial, their fidelity in every relation, their integrity, purity, humility, benevolence. To form these virtues in them, to render them " perfect in every good word and work," is the very object to be effected by their adherence to the gospel. If it be not effected, discredit is brought upon the religion itself, which they profess to advocate, for the sake of a good in- SPREAD AND GLORY OF THE GOSPEL. 239 fluence, which their own lives dedare it does not possess. But when their conversation is according to the blanieless- ness and purity of the Christian doctrine, fashioned upon the model of Jesus Christ, and illustrious with the consist- ent beauty of his excellences, it is a livinor and breathino- eulogy of their faith, which every one sees, understands, feels, and acknowledges. The profound scholar, the learned theologian, the eloquent orator, may demonstrate, illustrate, and adorn ; but the devout and humble believer, who " shows hi^! faith by his works," will do far more to con- vince and win. Has it not always been so ? Is it not when adorned by the charitable and unspotted lives of its friends, that the religion of Jesus has been most glorious and admi- rable ? And has it not been cast down from its honorable place, whenever worldliness and hypocrisy have marked the character of its advocates ? Does not the history of the church, in all ages, teach us, that, however glorious our re- ligion may be in itself, yet the ill conduct of its friends may obscure that glory, and their exemplary lives render it more conspicuous ? So that we are to regard it as given into our hands, a precious, solemn, awful charge, to be by us adorneu and recommended to mankind, or to be by us disfigured, obscured, and made a reproach among men ; — even as it is written, " My name is blasphemed among the nations be- cause of you." What a responsibility, then, is ours ! God grant that we may be able faithfully to sustain it ! In occupying the time allotted me on this occasion, I have endeavored to point out the principal means which it suggests of advancing religion through its public institu- tions, and of recommending it to the faith and admiration of men through the character of the doctrine preached, and by the zeal, liberality, and consistency of life, with which the great cause is advocated. To you, my dear brother, 240 MEANS OF PROMOTING THE these topics particularly address themselves. They concern your duties, your happiness, your success, in that calling to which you now devote yourself in the presence of God and man. It becomes the object of your life to uphold the wor- ship and ordinances of the gospel, and to labor for the ad- vancement of its glory in the world. May God grant you a great blessing ! May he give you zeal, charity, and piety, and make you eminently serviceable to the cause of divine truth and human salvation. In the situation to which you have been called, there are circumstances of peculiar trial. They fill your mind with solicitude, and they demand from us expressions and acts of sympathy and aid, which I trust we shall not fail to render you. May they never be with- held, and never be ineffectual ; and in every trial, may He especially be your support, who is nearer and greater than all earthly friends. There are also peculiar circumstances of encouragement and grounds of hope, which may well cheer and animate your exertions. May your best hopes of usefulness and happiness be fulfilled. May you find your separation from the friends of your youth compensated in the kindness and fidelity of those who welcome you as one of themselves. May you have the great happiness of wit- nessing the prevalence of pure and undefiled religion in all its heavenly and holy doctrines, in all its pure and comfort- ing influences, in all its correcting and regenerating power; and having been with this people " fellow-helpers to the truth" on earth, may you and they see the full glory, and partake the unspeakable felicity of the blessed in the eternal kingdom of God. Brethren of this Christian society : We offer you our congratulations on the auspicious occurrence of this day. Long and faithfully have you persevered in administering the worship and ordinances of God's house, according to SPREAD AND GLORY OF THE GOSPEL. 241 the dictates of your consciences ; and, faithful to their dic- tates, you still persevere. You have the good wishes and prayers in your behalf of your si.ster churches. May God smile upon you, and send you prosperity. May he abun- dantly reward " all your patience of faith and labor of love," and cause this day to be remembered with devout gratitude, by you and your children, not only during this pilgrimage of your probation, but in the future world of eternal rec- ompense. And in order to this, let me exhort you in the words of the apostle — Brethren, pray for tis — pray for your pastor; let your devotions encourage him ; and, by your zealous and hearty cooperation, may you cause that the word of the Lord have free course, and be glorified, around you, beyond you, and throughout the world, even as it is amongst you. 21 SERMON XV.* THE OBJECT AND MEANS OF THE CHRISTIAN MINISTRY. COLOSSLVNS [. 28. WHOM WE PREACH, WARNING EVERY MAN AND TEACHING EVERY MAN IN ALL WISDOM, THAT WE MAY PRESENT EVERY MAN PERFECT IN CHRIST JESUS. The apostle, in these words, makes a comprehensive state- ment of the object and the means of the Christian ministry, which may afford suitable hints for our meditation on the present occasion. Its object is human perfection, and the means, such a preaching of Christ that every man shall be taught and warned. "Whom we preach, — warning every man and teaching every man in all wisdom, that we may present every man perfect in Christ Jesus." I shall attempt nothing more than to develop and apply the ideas thus suggested. The Christian ministry has for its Object, human perfection; and for its Means, the preaching of Christ. Human perfection : What is it ? In what does it consist? Where is it to be found ? * Pr(!aclied at the ordination of the Rev. Cyrus A. Bartol, as junior pastor of the West Church, in Boston, Wednesday, March 1, 1837. OBJECT AND MEANS OF THE CHRISTIAN MINISTRY. 243 Certainly it is not divine perfection. The finite and mortal does not compete with the infinite and immortal. But there is to the works of God, as well as to himself, a perfection appertaining, suitable to their own nature and end — a perfection which is impressed upon them at their orig- inal formation, or to which they are led by a process of devel- opment and growth. The beautiful order of the planetary worlds was probably made perfect when those worlds were first cast out upon their courses, and that light, which is the glorious emblem of its wondrous Former, burst into being in the fulness of its glory. But the plant that comes up from the bosom of the earth, and the animal that is to enjoy life amid its abundance and beauty, these, in all their tribes and orders, arrive at their perfection by an appointed prog- ress. God has richly provided the means of that progress in the arrangements of his common providence, — where the warmth and the moisture of the sun and the air, the rev- olutions of the seasons, and the fertility of the earth, carry forward to their destined perfection the vegetable and the animal races. These provisions would be sufficient for man, if he too, like them, were merely the creature of this earth ; but, as he has a higher nature, and is capable of a higher perfection than they, something further is needed, an intellectual and spiritual providence, — the sun, and rain, and dew, and nurture of a spiritual life, — leading forward to a perfection in man, as superior to that of the animal, as immortal mind is superior to decaying matter. This spiritual providence, designed to effect for the soul what an earthly providence effects for the body, is to be found in the operation of the gospel of Jesus Christ. Not exclusively ; for the great Father never left his children without witness and without care. But the chief, the fa- vorite, the all-comprehending institution is that system of 244 OBJECT AND MEANS OF THE CHRISTIAN MINISTRY. grace and truth which came by Jesus Christ, and which makes wise unto salvation ; the efficient instrument of whose operation is the ministry. What, then, is this perfection for which man is made, in aid of which the gospel is established, and for which all in- stitutions of human origin had proved inadequate 1 They had proved inadequate because of the inadequate notions of human perfection on which they were founded. The leaders of society, the founders and guides of nations, the patriots, the lawgivers, the philosophers, who made men their study and their care, all failed of introducing a perfect social condition, because they misapprehended man, his capacity, his destiny. They regarded him as a creature of time, and as a component part of the state. They legislated for him, they educated him, they provided for him, simply as holding a certain place in the commonwealth, as having a certain part to perform in the machinery of society, to which he was to be precisely fitted as a moving wheel, or a stationary beam ; and society was accounted perfect and prosperous, when, through this process, every thing was in orderly operation, and the engine of state " worked well." This has been the idea of the worldly and the politicians in all ages ; and it was inadequate, because it left out of view the two essential elements on which the true concep- tion of human attainment rests, namely, the spiritual equal- ity and immortality of all men. Hence men have always been treated as having relation to time only, and without any regard to their capacity for progress. Provided the state was served and society prosperous, no one cared for the condition of the individual, lie might be a mere tool, a machine, a slave, an engine for working mines or mak- ing pins. His intellect and his character were matters of no consequence ; and it was held as absurd to raise any OBJECT AND MEANS OF THE CHRISTIAN MINISTRY. 245 from the accidental rank which their birth had assigned them, as to elevate the lower animals to an equal place with man. There was no recognition of the innate equality and immortality of the human soul. Christianity recognizes both. It sees in every individual man a partaker of the di- vine image, capable of infinite progress, certain of an infinite duration. It demands that perfection which belongs to the spiritual nature and the spiritual life ; it would make each man perfect as an individual being; not in his relation to an accidental rank in this world, but absolutely; a thinking, self- governing, worshiping, heaven-destined creature ; fitted for any position in society in this world, content with any that is allotted him, and dignifying the meanest by carrying into it the disinterested rectitude and piety which adorn the highest. This is the perfection which Christianity proposes, and of which it exhibits a pattern in Christ, the meek and lowly, the holy, harmless, undefilcd, and separate from sinners ; whose spirit was that of active and universal love; whose life was philanthropy ; whose death was a sacrifice of him- self, the just for the unjust; whose kingdom was not of this world, and yet the greatest benefaction of this world. This Son of God, contented with any condition, ready for any service, superior to all temptation, despising all selfishness, patient of any suffering, who walked among men more as some guardian angel from some superior sphere, than as sharer of their lot, and yet who felt with them, lived for them, planned, toiled, denied himself for them, more than any of the race had ever done ; — this is the pattern of human perfection which God has placed before his children. To be thus is to be what the text calls " perfect in Christ Jesus." To make men such is the object of the spiritual providence administered through the gospel. When it has achieved this object, it will have created a condition of so- 21 * 246 OBJECT AND MEANS OF THE CHRISTIAN MINISTRY. ciety well worthy to be called " a new creation ; " surpass- ing the best-regulated communities the earth has yet seen, iu those very requisites of social order and worldly prosper- ity, for the sake of which the leaders of the world have been willing to stigmatize Christianity as an impracticable theory and a melancholy delusion. And yet this is not the chief nor the final object. As the gospel does not approach men as the children of earth, but as children of God, not as subjects of human society, but as heirs of an immortal inheritance, so it is not satisfied with fitting them for the most perfect society on earth. It has thus accomplished its promise of the life that now is; there yet remains that of the life which is to come. The human being enters upon its spiritual career on earth, and enjoys it, — breathing the gales and odors of heaven even amid the fogs and darkness of these sublunary valleys. But its ful- ness of glory is in reserve ; the work of its spiritual eman- cipation is complete only when it is presented faultless there before the presence of his glory with exceeding joy ; when it has entered upon the joys which eye hath not seen, ear hath not heard, nor the heart of man conceived ; joys which God hath prepared for those who love him, and which behmg to the spirits of just men made perfect. Sucli being the object, our text designates the " preaching of Christ " as the means of the Christian ministry. This expression is used in a twofold sense in the New Testament, referring sometimes to the Savior himself in his character and offices, and eometimes to his religion. When we apply it to his religion, and say that it has power to accomplish the great end of which we have spoken, the important idea to be kept in view is this — that we are to preach religion as peculiarly and distinctly his religion, resting on his authority as a divine messenger ; that we OBJECT AND MEANS OF THE CHRISTIAN MINISTRY, 247 represent his doctrines as matters of revelation, not as truths to be sustained by human reason ; his precepts as commands from the Supreme Lawgiver, to be obeyed, on the crround of rightful law, not on the ground that we can show them to be right or expedient ; his sanctions as annunciations from the Judge of all the earth, not as the conclusions of a probable reasoning, or the suggestions of enlightened conscience. This is the thought to be insisted on. We are to preach Christianity. Man requires a law ; Christianity is the supreme law, and it must be so pre- sented in order to its full effect. No man preaches Christ who contents himself with setting forth the specula- tions and conclusions of his own mind on the great ques- tions of divinity and ethics, with discussing and teaching theories of the divine government and human nature, the excellences and obligations of virtue, and the ingredients and methods of spiritual advancement and happiness. He may do this correctly, and yet, having done it on grounds of argument independent of the Savior's authority, it wants a Christian Savior, and is by no means preaching Christ. And, for this reason, though he may do it correctly, he can- not do it with effect, for he wields no power but his own adroitness in argument, and his own reputation for wisdom. He is backed by nothing stronger than himself. He stands in need of a far mightier power, — the power of express revelation, the authority of a divine teacher. While men had nothing better, nothing else, than their own exertions of mind to depend upon, it was right that they should rely on them ; and they did so with a sagacity and eloquence which have made the names of many ancient sages immortal. But it all resulted in nothing. It will result in nothing now, if the teachers of morals, like them, rely on their own minds. They cannot hope to argue with 248 OBJECT AND MEANS OF THE CHRISTIAN MINISTRY. greater ability, or plead with greater impressiveness, than Socrates, Plato, Seneca, or Tully, to mention no more; but the least in the kingdom of heaven are greater than they, and have won more souls to virtue, — for they have appealed to an authority which these men possessed not, and have had their weakness made strong in a divine power, to which those more gifted worthies could not appeal. It is not ancient Platonism, nor modern Eclecticism, neither the dogmas of the dark ages, nor the metaphysics of the eighteenth century, nor the mysticism of any century, that is to speak strongly to the hearts of men, and bring them home to God. It is Christianity. It is the simple truth of Jesus, spoken on his authority, proclaimed as a direct mes- sage from God, illustrated and made effective by his life and death. Illustrated and made effective by his life and death ; — this is essential to the full preaching of his religion. Such is the inseparable connection of the Savior with his doctrine, that it can never be appreciated or effective, unless accom- panied by the preaching of himself in his character and offices. For, as we have already seen, Christ is the pattern of the perfection to be wrought out. There is no other model with which men can compare themselves ; the idea of what they are to arrive at is nowhere else portrayed in a distinct, vivid, encouraging form. Men must distinctly know what they are to become ; and no description in words, no command or exhortation, could so inform them, as that living example. They might read their duty in his word — " Bvit in his lifo the law appears Drawn out in living characters." Christ is also a Lawgiver, bringing to us, from tne univer- sal Father, that rule of holiness, without conformity to OBJECT AND MEANS OF THE CHRISTIAN MINISTRY. 249 which no one can see the Lord. This authority of the law- giver must be proclaimed, and acknowledged, and submitted to, or the law of perfection never can be observed. Christ is also the divine Teacher; and there is no acqui- sition of the wisdom requisite to guide and prompt the soul in its spiritual aspirations, except from the sublime truth and inspiring promises which he promulgates. Christ is the Savior, the suffering and the interceding; and there is no motive to soften the human heart, subdue the wayward will, overcome the earthly and selfish tenden- cies of its perverse nature and a corrupting world, like those drawn from his constraining love, his disinterested toils, his death of agony, and his offices of perpetual grace. Christ is the Judge of men; the Father hath given him authority to execute judgment ; and if they are to stand before his bar to receive at last according to the deeds done in the body, it is needful that they now acknowledge and honor him; that now, walking by that word of his which is to judge them at the last day, their consciences may anticipate his decision and save their souls from shame. It is by thus setting Christ before men as their Teacher, their Example, their Lawgiver, Redeemer, and Judge, and as most intimately related to them in all his offices of power and love, that men are to be brought to understand and aspire after the perfection which he sets before them. Reverence for his commission, admiration of his divine purity, gratitude for his inestimable services, love for his love, and a longing to know and dwell with him, — these, and all the sentiments which belong to so high, so peculiar, so affecting a relation as that of a soul to its Redeemer, operate as nothing else has ever done to excite the undy- ing desire and determination to live the life of the Spirit, that, when absent from the body, they may be present with 250 OBJECT AND MEANS OF THE CHRISTIAN MINISTKY, the Lord. And, O, how marvellously has this connection with Jesus wrought upon the human character ! Mistaken as it may have been, obscured by mystery, made wild by fanaticism, forced into the service of hypocrisy, supersti- tion, and spiritual pride, — yet never has it failed to exalt and purify the souls in which the sense of it resided; err as men might, their nearness to him had a sanctifying pow- er; by being with him, they became like him; if they only touched the hem of his garment, virtue came out to them ; and whenever and wherever, with simple-hearted reliance, they have taken him for their Master and walked in his path, they have seemed like a company of angels returning to their home. We have seen what is that perfection of which the text speaks as the object of the Christian ministry, and how the preaching of Christ is to be the means of effecting it. There is still another point, thrown out by the apostle, necessary to be attended to, in order to the full develop- ment of his idea. If the perfection to be wrought out be, as we have seen, that of individual character, then, not only is Christianity to be preached in the manner described, but also with a particular view to that specific result ; " warning every man and teaching every man." This is a view to which too great importance can hardly be attached. If, as unquestionably is the fact, Christianity can accomplish its purpose in the world only by its influence over individuals, then it is essential that those who administer it take care to direct its influence to individuals. And it may be fairly inquired, when we speak of the causes of the yet unsatis- factory ascendency of the gospel in the world, whether much is not to be attributed to the neglect of this consider- ation ; to the circumstance that Christian truth is ad- dressed to society as a mass, rather tlian to its individual OBJECT AND MEANS OF THE CHRISTIAN MINISTRY. 251 members ; that the congregation is preached to, rather than the persons who compose it ; and that, through this general- izing process, tliis failing to individualize, and circumscribe, and apply, the truth is diluted and enfeebled. Religion is a personal thing ; character, accountableness, reward, punishment, happiness, all are personal things. If one have not personal religion, he has no religion. He can have it only by the immediate application of Christian truth to his own heart and character ; and it is the business of him, who dispenses that truth, to do it in such manner, as to insure that immediate application. So true is this, that of all the phrases which have been used to express the design of the ministry, there is no one that so exactly describes it as this, — the design of the min- istry is, the promotion of personal religion. What else shall we say ? Is it to uphold the church ? to spread Christianity ? to maintain the order of society ? to save souls ? to make men better ? to regenerate the world ? How is either of these to be done, except by making individual men religious ? State the case as we please ; extend the sphere of action and influence as widely as wc may; make it to cover nations and stretch through ages, to overturn univer- sal heathenism, and bring on the full millennium of the hu- man race, — it all comes back to this, personal religion; for it is just so far as this prevails, and no farther, that Chris- tianity spreads, and its benign effects are realized. Let the minister, then, direct his efforts to this one object ; let this be the alpha and omega, the beginning and the end, of all his work. If any one supposes that this would be to narrow the sphere of ministerial action, which ought rather to be con- strued as extending to all the institutions of man and so- ciety, to letters, and science, and education, in all their 252 OBJECT AND MEANS OF THE CHRISTIAN MINISTRY, forms ; that the rule just laid down would withdraw the patronage and service of the minister from all but the little round of technical church duty, — I reply, Not at all. This has been provided for in the spirit of the remarks already made. There is no project devised, no enterprise set on foot, for the elevation of man, that should not have Christ's servant for its advocate. If he be found lagging behind when society is pressing on, he is false to his profes- sion and to his Master. Earth has no such friend to uni- versal human improvement as Christianity. But, then, he is equally false, if he substitute those means of improvement which ought to be the accompaniments and result of reli- gious principle, in the place of that religious principle which is before all, beyond all, and above all ; if he allow this sec- ondary action, this external, and it may be superficial, it may be unprincipled, devotion to intellectual and social ad- vancement, to usurp the place and the honors which are due to devotion to God. No. These are all well ; but they might have existed without a revelation from God, or the toils and sacrifices of the Redeemer. They are all well ; but they are compatible with a heathen state of society, and are upheld by many in Christian lands who pretend not to be more sanctified than heathen, or to think that the civilization of a Christian people is better than that of a pagan. Tliey may be, they must be, brought into subjection to religious truth, made subsidiary to the grand ends of the Christian institutions, " schoolmasters, to lead to Christ ; " but they are not the peculiar object of these institutions. First the kingdom of God, then these. They will help to strengthen, establish, adorn that kingdom ; therefore they are to be advcv cated by the servants of the kingdom ; but that kingdom it is which is first of all to be built up, its spiritual life first of all to be kindled ; and all the glories of all the kingdoms OBJECT AND MEANS OF THE CHRISTIAN MINISTRY. 253 of the earth would poorly compensate the apostle of Christ, who should substitute the other inferior means of human perfection in the place of this. And it must not be forgotten, that the method we speak of was that of Jesus Christ himself. He called Nathanael by name, he summoned Levi from his seat of public office, he took Peter and John from their fishing-boats, and sepa- rated Paul from the Pharisees. Bent as he was on affecting the whole world, powerful to this end as was his public ministry when he spake words of divine eloquence, and did works of divine power in the presence of wondering thou- sands, yet he. knew that the strength of his action and the hope of his success lay in obtaining a lodgment for his sys- tem in individual minds ; in enlisting, not the general good- will of society, but the whole souls of a few of its members. And it needs but a cursory reading of the Acts and the Epistles to perceive how the apostles also laid stress on individual action. "They taught publicly and from house to house." Paul said to the Ephesians, " I ceased not day and night to warn every onr of you with tears." Indeed, how otherwise could the new religion prevail, than by being received by one individual after another? The general mass of hearers might be affected to a certain degree by the reasonings and appeals which they heard ; and it is doubtless true that pagan doctrines and pagan morality were modified by this circumstance ; but the pagan world did not become believers through this operation. So, also, at the time of the reformation, the preaching of the re- formers produced a salutary effect on the mass of the com- munity beyond the Protestants themselves, and modified the condition of the Catholic church. But Christianity and Protestantism never prevailed a step beyond the list of indi- vidual converts. In all our congregations, in like manner, 254 OBJECT AND MEANS OF THE CHRISTIAN MINISTRT.- there is a general salutary influence from the preaching of the gospel on the mass of the hearers ; the standard of thought and of action is higher with them than it would otherwise be. But it does not rise to the Christian measure ; it does not pretend to do so. This secondary effect of Christian institutions is not to satisfy us, as if it were the whole effect designed. We want the direct effect ; and we may be sure that religion is successfully administered only when this direct effect is discerned. Yet we are too ready to rest content with the secondary, the reflected, neutral- ized, negative operation ; as if this divine apparatus, with its power to re-create the dead, were put into our hands only to bring about that moderate morality which the pru- dence of this world teaches ; as if the charge of souls were committed to us only that we might be able to say, " To be sure, we cannot name any individuals that have been affected by the truth we preach, but we hope that we have not wrought in vain." God forbid that this hope, indefinite as it may be, should be taken away from us ; it is too precious. In the weakness of our hearts, in the trials of our toil, in the weariness and despondency of our too often disappointed souls, this vague hope that we have not labored in vain is someiimes the only balm that remains to cheer us, and in our secret thanks- givings we bless God that even that is vouchsafed to us. But is it not worth inquiry, whether, if we aimed at more, we should not attain more ? If our object is general and vague, must not our effect be such? If it be no part of our plan to produce individual results, is it strange that we do not produce them ? As we sow we must reap. I have thus glanced at the several points suggested by the pregnant words of our text. They are points of urgent interest to all who are concerned in the prosperity of our OBJECT AND MEANS OF THE CHRISTIAN MINISTRY. 255 religious institutions, and the progress of Christianity in the world. They are peculiarly interesting on an occasion which calls to mind the importance and duty of the Chris- tian minister. We remind ourselves, and we tell our young brother, that the end of our calling is the spiritual progress and perfection of men ; that he and we are agents in carry- ing forward that great moral re-creation of the world which Christ began, and for which the saints have toiled and suf- fered in all ages ; that we are operators in that course of spiritual providence, by which God has ordained to accom- plish in his children the end of their being ; that the means to be used by us are, the faithful promulgation of that doc- trine which Christ taught with authority from God, accom- panied by all the influences of light, attraction, and power, which are imparted to it by his own character and his rela- tions to man ; and that the manner of effecting this is by its adaptation and application to men ; not in the general mass, but as individuals, independent, responsible individ- uals. That ministry cannot be wholly unblest which is conformed to this idea. Those institutions cannot fall \vhich are built upon this model. But when we say this, we bear in mind, and must not leave the subject without remarking it, that these institu- tions are not simply that of public worship, and that the power of the office is to be found elsewhere as well as in the pulpit. It resides in the whole influence of that sacred connection which binds pastor and flock in one spiritual bond. We always remember this when we speak of the efficacy of preaching. For what is preaching ? Not the oratory of a high pulpit, the formal rhetoric of an official man in his public place, the elaborate discussion of a holy day. Many seem to think that there can be no preaching except in the church, before a great congregation, with a 256 OBJECT AND MEANS OF THE CHRISTIAN MINISTRY. chosen text, and a stately array of method and periods. But is the preaching of the servants thrust into such narrow limits, when the Master preached on the mountain, in the boat, by the way-side, in the court of the Pharisees, and in the sitting-room of Mary and Martha? Surely the servant is a preacher every where ; his whole pastoral walk is a ser- mon, every house in his parish is a church, every parlor a pulpit, every day a Sabbath. He may deliver no sermon out of season, but he will preach in season and out of season ; and being able, in this more private ministry, to adapt him- self more entirely to the wants of those whom he addresses, he will teach and warn every man more successfully, with closer appeals to the conscience, with heartier urgency to the affections, with more irresistible arguments for truth and God. The faithful pastor is the most powerful preacher. There are no sermons, in chapel or cathedral, like those which drop from his loving lips when the child is on his knee, or the silence of the death-chamber is broken by the low tone of his prayer. He who thus preaches every where, by example as well as by word, by life as well as by doctrine, preaches better also in the pulpit ; for then his voice is not that of a public orator, but of a friend and brc».her ; his counsel is not the official dictation of a public functionary, but the advice of a sympathizing friend. Hence the power of the ministry is as much out of the pulpit as in it, and we are always to include the pastoral work in that preaching of Christ by which the salvation and perfection of men are to be effected. Let us have faith in its power. Why is it powerless, except through our skepticism and timidity ? how hindered, but by the unbelief of those who speak and those who hear 1 Let us reverence the great end for which it was instituted. Of what use to us the mighty apparatus, excepting as we are OBJECT AND MEANS OF THE CHRISTIAN MINISTRY. 257 led by it to know and seek our personal sanctification and perfection 1 Let us realize the connection into which it introduces us with the Son of God. Of what avail to us his mediation, his law, his example, his encouragement, if we follow him not into the spiritual life, and fail of becom- ing joint heirs with him of the kingdom of heaven, and the eternal benediction of the Father ? Let the servants of Christ take heed how they speak ; let the people take heed how they hear. Let them go hand in hand, following " the Lamb whithersoever he goeth,'' and helping each other onward till they arrive together, perfect in Christ Jesus, to take their place with the re- deemed and glorified in heaven. 22 • SERMON XVI.* THE CHRISTIAN MINISTER A DEFENDER OF THE GOSPEL. FHILIPPIANS I. 17 I AM SET FOR THE DEFE^■C•E OF THE GOSPEL. In the act for which we are now assembled, we commem- orate the grace of Almighty God in making to mankind a revelation of his will, and in establishing through Jesus Christ those institutions which shall conduct to salvation and heaven. We do something, in this act, towards per- petuating those institutions and rendering them effectual. When Jesus, their founder, left the world, he committed them, and with them the hopes of the human race, to his eleven apostles. They were his ambassadors to the world. They were guardians for him of the dispensation which he had set up. And when they went to their rest, — some by fire, and some by crucifixion, and one by a good old age, — they transmitted the holy charge to other hands, and thus sent it down from age to age. The race of those who have taken it up has never become extinct. Every man who * Deli\erod at llie ordination of Rov. Cliandlor Robbins, over the Second Congregational Church, in Boston, December 4, 1833. THE CHRISTIAN MINISTER A DEFENDER OF THE GOSPEL. 259 joins himself to the company of the preachers, and takes charge of one of the Savior's little flocks, is one more added to the band of those who are " set for the defence of the gospel." Another joins that sacred band to-day ; and as we help him to gird on his armor, and lay upon him the hands of charge and congratulation, it may not be unsea- sonable to speak of the nature of his enterprise and office, under the point of view presented by the apostle in our text. What is it that he is to defend? Against what enemies? With what modes of action and influence? These are the three points of my discourse. I. WJiat is it icJiich he has undertaken to defend? Of what is he the minister ? The answer is, A revelation FROM God ; a revelation of truth, duty, and eternal life. This he is pledged to proclaim and advocate. He is to pro- pound its doctrines, enforce its law, excite by its sanctions. Herein lies the peculiarity of his position. Other men have taught truth, have inculcated duty, have argued for im- mortality. But he speaks of them as matters of revelation ; he speaks as bearing communications respecting them from God. And thus he is set apart from all other teachers, as the gospel is set apart from all other systems. He does not advocate it, because he judges it to be upon the whole a bet- ter doctrine than that of the Stoics or Epicureans ; or as one which is very likely to be true, or, if not, so useful that it may be well to teach it to common people as true. But he takes it, explicitly and absolutely, as the revealed truth of God; not as human opinion, but as divine law; not as what he has reasoned out, but what he has received. This is the circumstance to which it owes its value. It Mould be worth little more than the venerable philosophy of the an- cient sages, if it were, like them, the mere offspring of human opinion. To this, too, it owes its power ; for its 260 THE CHRISTIAN MINISTER doctrine comes with authority ; not as the intuitive wisdom of this man, or the plausible theory of that, dependent on the logical skill of him who advances it, having, therefore, no more weight than is derived from his power of reasoning, and which may be reasoned down as it was reasoned up ; but an authoritative message from the infinite Father of truth. Undoubtedly there are propositions relative to the gospel which are mere matter of opinion, and which must be dis- cussed as such, if discussed at all, with great self-diffidence. But that the gospel itself is a revelation of truth, a law of duty, and a promise of life, is not one of those propositions, and ought not to be so regarded by him who has undertaken its ministry. Hence, in preaching its doctrines, they are to be treated in the way of explanation and application ; — not to be taught as the instructions of human intellect, and shown to be probably true according to the light of nature ; — but simply proved to have been taught by Christ, and then from other sources illustrated. Its duties he will treat in the same way, as binding, because the commandment of God, — not simply as what is advisable and expedient for the good of man, and the sanctions of a future state, — not, like the arguing of the old sages, as being probably thus and thus, according to the best light we have, but as being cer- tainly thus, because we have absolutely the best light. This is what is done by him who defends the gospel. And he, who, instead of this, puts the whole up to debate, states it all as so much matter open to discussion, on which either side may with almost equal propriety be defended, — that man betrays the cause which he undertook to advocate ; he tre.ats as an unsettled question what he engaged to enforce as di- vine truth, and places the whole at the mercy of his own didactic skill. And what can be the result in the minds of A DEFENDER OF THE GOSPEL. 361 liis hearers, but a state of indifference and uncertainty T There can be no strong faith, — therefore no strong interest — therefore no strong influence of Christian principle — no high action of Christian hope. There are grand but simple verities, through whose power the soul becomes mighty ; but if they are regarded only as theses for discussion, problems for theoretical solution, they have lost their soul-moving and life-giving energy. Faith is powerful just in proportion as it becomes assurance. If ever Christian truth has reformed the sinful and strengthened the tempted, given comfort to the desponding and triumph to the martyr, overcome the world and regenerated kingdoms, it has been because it was received as the certain declaration of God, — because his voice was heard uttering the law, proclaiming the promise, and issuing the threat. If the minister is ever to see the fruit of his labors in conversion from sin, in the growth of holiness, in the consolation and peace of a heavenly hope, it must be, it can only be, by persuading his hearers to re- ceive what he delivers as the disciples received the preach- ing of Paul, — " not as the word of men, but as it is in truth, the word of God." And if, with intent to redeem the world, ambassadors should go forth merely declaring to men what are their own opinions on great subjects of truth and duty, instead of announcing the message as from God, the disciples of Plato or Confucius would convert the nations as soon as they. No ; Christ has taught us better. " I have given to them the words thoc gavest to me, and thev have known surely that thou didst send me." And therefore they are not to take a place among the wise and the dis- puters of this world. They are to be preachers of a rev- elation. II. Against irhat enemies is the minister to defetid this revelation ? This was our second question ; and the answer 262 THE CHRISTIAN MTNISTER. is, Against all who oppose its truth, neglect its duties^ and despise its sanctions. These are the enemies of the gospel. They are to be answered, rebuked, converted, made its friends. He has taken up the great defence of Christianity, and placed himself on the rampart of its institutions. He has devoted himself to the promotion of its interests. Fervent- ly persuaded that it is from God — that it teaches the truth of truths — that it is the great moral power of the world — that it is the great sustaining hope of the human soul ; — having deeply experienced the illumination of its doctrine, the sanctification of its law, and the glorious peace of its promise, he longs to extend its benignant sway ; and he ear- nestly inquires what are the hinderances which need to be removed. First, he discovers those who set themselves against its truth. Infidelity stands in the way; — assuming some- times the garb of Philosophy, speaking lofty words of wis- dom, and pretending to look down .contemptuously on reve- lation as unfavorable to the development of the intellect and the culture of manly virtue ; sometimes in a garb of depraved and coarse malignity, — hating the gospel for its purity, and loud in its words of audacious calumny and obscene blasphemy. Side by side with this bold assailant of all that is sacred and good, he sees Indifference, stand- ing in the way of the light, and hindering the influence of the truth. And what a formidable portion of the commu- nity does this characterize ! resolutely sunk in apathy, wholly unconcerned for spiritual good, impeding all prog- ress, discouraging all exertion, neither entering into life themselves, nor permitting others to enter. How many, alas 1 of such does he behold among those who rank them- selves as Christians ! How many of his Master's foes does A DEFENDEE OF TIIK GOSPEL. 263 he discover to be of his own household ! — thwarting by their worldliness and coldness all projects for the promotioa of that cause which nominally they favor ! Witli these, and besides these, he beholds the chief enemy, — the miny-hcad- ed, the omnipresent foe, Sin, — in its infinite forms and in- scrutable disguises, — subtle as the serpent in the garden, and venomous as°the sting of death. How it blinds the under- standing, hardens the heart, perverts the conscience, makes truth distasteful, and the thought of God unwelcome ! How it rides triumphant in high places, spreading around oppres- sion and blighting, turning power into a curse, and wealth into a fountain of corruption ! How it steals, like a pestilence, into low places, and rears those seminaries of depravity, which make the good tremble for the very existence of the social fabric ! So that, with the institutions of the gospel flourishing, the will of God every where published, the won- derful fact of a future life familiarly known, — society yet lies deep sunk in selfishness, earthliness, and sensuality. There is much to be done, — blessed be God, there is much doing ! but much remains to be done to make the community Christian, in that true and sufficient sense which shall satisfy the wishes and hopes of a philanthropic mind, and accom- plish the purpose of the Savior. Much is to be done before public opinion will be always right, every man honest and temperate, every family well ordered and peaceful, and pen- itentiaries and prisons unnecessary. Alas! to look even upon our stated, sober, church-going congregations, how much is to be done before the power of the gospel shall be over them universally and purely ! before all shall have parted with their sins, and become devoted followers of Jesus ! before every house shall be a temple, every heart an altar,- every hand a fountain of charity and trutli, duty and heaven become the favorite concerns of all minds ! 264 THE CHRISTIAN MINISTER And who is to bring on that happy day? Who is to watch and toil for the accomplishment of that desirable con- summation ? Certainly every good Christian and good man will join his prayers and his labors. But if it be asked, whose duty it is to be foremost in devising and effecting measures for the enterprise, — certainly it must be answered. The minister of Christ. By his very office it appertains to him. He is not to wait till he is called forth by the public voice ; he is not to hold back till urged on by the quicker zeal of others ; he is not to consult first of all his own rep- utation and the fear to jeopard his influence. He is to be the first to speak. He is to stand in the front rank of all opposition to the foes of religion and man ; and while he seeks to " give offence in nothing, that the ministry be not blamed," he will yet be prompt to cry aloud and spare not, as a leader, not a follower, in the camp of the Lord, against all the hosts of infidelity, indifference, and sin. HI. This brings us to our third question, — By what method is he to effect the work thus allotted him 7 And here I cannot avoid beginning with a passing remark relative to that prime, essential matter, the spirit which he is to main- tain. The weapons of his warfare are not carnal, but spirit- ual ; and if he contend against infidelity, worldliness, or sin, with carnal weapons, — that is, in any spirit but the se- rious, devout, forbearing, gentle spirit of Christ, — he be- comes himself an enemy, instead of a defender. If he assail infidelity with the ribaldry and indecency with which infi- delity assaults Christianity ; if he denounce his erring fellow-men with the disingenuousness and reviling of a vul- gar political partisan ; if he treat even abandoned sinners (whom he ought to convert) with indignant outcry and vio- lent abuse, — he fights the battle for Heaven in the armor of the prince of darkness ; he takes a tone no more A DEFEIiDER OP THE GOSPEL. 265 tolerable in a messenger of the cross, than would be the blas- phemy of the damned on the threshold of heaven. Let him remember the motto given by the aposlle, — In meekness in- structing those that oppose themselves ; and that other say- ing, — If any man have not the spirit of Christ, he is none of his. When we pass beyond this remark respecting the general spirit of his ministry, we find ourselves embarrassed by the vastness of the field we enter. The methods by which he shall advocate and advance the gospel, whose whole life and business are consecrated to that work, are too various to allow of even enumeration in the time before us. His own personal character and familiar example in the world, are to be made a standing argument for the power and beauty of Christian principle. His conversation among men must be always directed with ready speech to recommend and strengthen the cause he serves. His voice, his pen, his time, his services, his purse, must be ever at the command of any projects which are advanced for the good of man- kind ; and he must show that Christianity is the friend of every thing excellent by being himself its friend. In his pastoral walks, where he moves among his people as their confidential religious friend, he has peculiar opportunities for advancing the interests of religion, — such as no other being on earth can possess, and such as he could possess in no other relation. For, on all the most momentous and trying emergencies of life, when the heart is most suscepti- ble, and cries out after its God ; in the sanctuary of do- mestic life, in the privacy of the sick chamber, at the bed- side of the dying, — wherever and whenever the soul feels most, — there he may be; there he may plead for Christ and heaven ; there he may take hold of immortal sympa- thies and immortal wants, and win those to God who might 23 266 THJ-, CHRISTIAN MINISTER elsewhere be inaccessible. And besides these varioua means and occasions, there still remains the public assembly and the house of prayer, where he stands forth as the rec- ognized ambassador of Christ, pleading, in the face of heaven and earth, the cause of truth, duty, and life. On all these points, it is impossible, as I said, to dwell. I make a selection, and illustrate but one of them, — the last. T would show how this important function of preaching will take its character from the consideration that he is set for the defence of the gospel ; and this both as regards the sub- jects and the manner of it. With respect to the subjects, it will be, as already inti- mated, the preaching of the gospel ; not of his own opinions gathered from observation and reflection ; not of disquisitions in ethical philosophy ; not of the minor pro- prieties and conventional courtesies of life, or the superficial moralities of society ; but of the written gospel, as a reve- lation from God ; expounding its records, illustrating its propositions, developing and elucidating its eternal princi- ples, upholding them in their evidences against cavil and objection, and urging them in their in^ftuences on the reason, affections, and conscience, as the only truth which can make wise unto salvation. In like manner he will treat its duties ; not as diffidently advising that course which seems to him on the whole expedient, honorable, or rational ; but as pronouncing the law of God, declaring the eternal rule of right. He will do this, not in general terms, but in the specific peculiarities which the precepts and example of Christ have imparted to it ; and will thus present to men a practical morality, far different from that of the he;ithen philosophy, and far higher than the acknowledged standard of even the Christianized community. He will treat also of the sanctions of a future retribution. He will always A DEFENDER OF THE GOSPEL. 267 accompany the doctrines of truth and righteousness with that of a judgment to come. lie will never allow himself to recognize man in any other character than that of an ACCOUNTABLE IMMORTAL, or to addrcss him from the pulpit in any other relation; for he remembers that the kingdom of his Lord is not of this world, and that he toiled and suffered for men only because he felt for them as destined to eternity. He is thus evidently prohibited much of that dreamy and speculative discussion about secondary matters which has ren- dered so many pulpits unfruitful and sleepy. There are per- mitted to him only the strong, stirring, urgent subjects which make preaching seem a matter of life and death. Those vast, sublime, searching, thrilling topics, — God, eternity, and judgment, repentance, faith, and immortal progress, — which are mighty to work upon the soul and call it out to a new life; — topics of a magnitude and interest needed by him who is to throw down in one day all the evil influences on character which the world has been building up for six, and to establish in one day an influence which the world for six, with a thousand hands, will be striving to overthrow. With such a work before him, he has no time, (God forbid that he should have a heart!) for any less important exhibition, — for preaching any thing but the word. God forbid that he sliou'ld have a moment's solicitude for the petty elenrances of speech, or the good-will of a frivolous and worldly assem- bly. Let him be solicitous only to declare the counsel of God, to divide rightly the word of truth, and if he can win men to receive and honor it by an evident attachment and a consistent life, he may despise the contempt of the superfi- cial, and thank God that his work is blest. Then as to the manner in which this must be done. It must, in the first place, be rational. No part of the gospel THE CHRISTIAN MINISTER can be irrationally defended ; certainly not at the present day. This is neither the age nor the country for a religion built upon assumption to be received upon assertion. In- deed, it never was true of Christianity, that it demanded any other than a rational defence ; as Paul well knew, when he so constantly "reasoned from the Scriptures" in his preaching, and filled his epistles with close and earnest argument. Preaching, therefore, must be reasoning; it is not declamation, nor exhortation, nor fine description, nor the mere outpouring of a burning mind, though sometimes they are made to pass for it. In no other department of serious eloquence would these modes of address be thought sufficient. Neither in the senate, nor at the bar, nor in the popular assembly, would it be tolerated, that men should deal only in flowery elegance, hortatory harangue, or mere entreaty. They are required to show reason for the part they take. They are required to make business-like speeches. The speeches of the great Grecian were little else than close and rapid argument. They owed their heat and force to the impetuosity and compactness of the reasoning. 'And surely the greatest of subjects, the most momentous of hu- man interests, is not to be enforced with less appeal to sound reasoning. Men must be addressed in a practical, business-like way here as well as elsewhere. Accustomed to reason and to hear reasoning on all other subjects, they cannot, they ought not surrender their understandings, their consciences, their wills, their characters, their all, to the entreaties or the assertions of any man, without good reason given and received. They cannot, and they ought not, take any man's word for any view of any important truth. True, as we have insisted, the minister of Christ speaks from authority. But not his own ; it is his Master's author- ity. And he must prove that he has his authority before he A DEFENDER OF THE GOSPEL. 209 can use it. Even the divine Master hiniseil" employed argument and proof to establish his authority ; and is the minister to do less now? Is he to hope tliut even a cordial fellow-disciple will acknowledge the obligation of what he teaches, unless it be proved that his master taught it? Will he convince the cool-hearted atheist, the sophistical skeptic, the honest doubter, the eager and keen-sighted inquirer, without reasoning? Can he hope that the worldly, the sen- sual, the devotees of pleasure, the dead in trespasses and sins, will be turned to duty and faith, unless he can show them reasons for turning ? And still further ; when the growing inquisitiveness of the times has imparted to men so much more real or fancied acuteness of mind, can he expect that they will yield to the arguments or embrace the doc- trines of darker ages, on the ground of their sacredness and antiquity, without investigation ? Surely not. The minis- ter who thus judges takes a false position, and palsies his own right hand. He forgets thiit he no longer occupies an office of power, that he now stands on a level with his fel- low-men, that his adventitious advantages are few. Those few are invaluable, indeed; but they will avail him little, unless, like other men in important affairs, he exhibit a sound mind and rational judgment, and treat his fellow-men as beings of intelligence. The most powerful preaching, therefore, will be that of argument ; not of subtilties and refinements, of formal technicalities, and metaphysical ab- stractions. Theology, unhappily, has been so much at the mercy of the scholastics, who have dissected it and anato- mized it, and laid it by in dry preparations and naked skel- etons, that the word argument in religion is apt to bring up the idea of what is forbidding. But it is not the arguments of pedantry that we speak of There are other sources and forms of reasoning than those of the schools, — 23* 270 THE CHRISTIAN MINISTER from which Jesus drew and which the apostles used ; the inexhaustible premises of nature, the affluent fountains of human affection, the character of God, the history of his providence, the declarations of his word, the promises of immortality, the destinies of the intelligent soul. These, and such as these, are sources of arguments for the pulpit, within the comprehension of all, and interesting to the af- fections of all. Let them be applied to with the earnestness which indicates deep interest and affectionate zeal, and they cannot fail to convince, to move, and to persuade. For this is an equally important consideration, — Earn- estness. What will the preacher do without earnestness? what justice to himself, to his hearers, to his argument, to the cause he has espoused 1 Speakers upon all other sub- jects are earnest. When they would convince or move men, they talk as if they were themselves convinced and moved ; they throw their mind and heart into their words, and thus make way into the mind and heart of others. Will it do for the preacher to be less earnest ? Are his topics less mo- mentous ? or is the cause which he pleads more easily won than that of the statesman and barrister? Are men more readily persuaded to love God and work out their salvation, than to vote with their own party or give a righteous verdict in a suit at law ? And shall questions of property, interest, or politics, be discussed with the warm energy of a glowing mind, — and are the attributes of the adorable God, and the destinies of immortal souls, to be coldly treated in formal dissertations? There is no advocate who pleads a cause like the advocate of the gospel. He stands in the place of Jesus Christ ; to maintain and render effective those benefi- cent institutions, by him founded, on which rests the hope of the human race through all ages and nations, and of the human soul throughout eternity. He sees and knows that A DEFENDER OF THE GOSPEL. 371- except so far as they prevail, darkness is over the earth and gross darkness over the people; he knows that just so far as they prevail, light breaks upon men, and earth becomes heaven. Yet he sees their blessed influences opposed. The state of society, the pursuits of present interest, the prin- ciples of a sensual life, the depravity of many, and the ig- norance of more, perpetually thwart their gracious operation, and they are sustained and powerful, if at all, through a perpetual struggle. Intermit the struggle, and their light flickers, and the darkness comes over the land again. Who but the minister is to sustain that struggle ? Who but he is set for the defence of that beacon light? And when, there- fore, he reflects what a responsibility is laid upon him, — when he looks on his fellow-men groping in darkness and folly, turned into brutes by the horrible enchantments of earth and sense, and knows that to him is committed the talisman by which they are to be rechanged to their human and celestial dignity, — must he not feel that he is to be up and doing ? that his most strenuous zeal is demanded ? that the most piercing and thrilling cry of his voice must be lifted ? How else shall he so much as catch the attention of those slumbering and giddy souls ? How else can his voice be so much as heard amid the loud din of business and the resounding choruses of pleasure? How else can he hope to arrest the thoughtless throng of triflers, and per- suade to listen the scornful doubter, or put to shame the coarse blasphemer, or call into life the dead in trespasses ? O my brethren ! what a work is that of the ministry, when we observe what is to be done, and what obstacles there are to doing it ? One would think that earth and heaven would be moved by our endeavors. Yet how little do our pulpits exhibit of the great commotion ! How seldom are the thun- ders which shake the senate-house and the forum heard 272 THE CHRISTIAN MINISTER pealing through the temple of God ! How rarely are the passions which weep and tremble at the fictions of the stage called on for a tear at the foot of the altar, or niadQ to glow or tremble at the realities of eternal truth ! We are all cor- rectness, decorum, and sobriety. We are careful to commit no faults, we shock nobody's taste, we roughly waken no one's slumbers. To be sure, we know that men ought to be interested in heavenly things, and that, if they do not count religion the one thing needful, they will be ruined. But we think it would be risking a great deal to tell them so, blunt- ly ; and if our plainness should chance to offend them, why, then our influence over them is gone, and we can never do them any more good. And is influence worth having, if we may not use it to bring men to God? As if the ministry were worth maintaining, if it be only an institution for bringing men together once a week, to be entertained with pfeasant pieces of composition ! As well might we flee away from our mission, like Jonah, as thus render it ineffi- cient by a timid and time-serving delivery. There is, therefore, one further thing to characterize the preacher, — plainness; and this in two senses; — that of speaking plain truths, and that of speaking them in plain terms. Very little is effected toward establishing over men the authority and influence of the Christian religion, by him who will not in perfect simplicity teach its plain truths, pre- cepts, and sanctions ; but who, instead of this, only philos- ophizes about them ; or amuses his hearers with speculations and treatises on far-sought questions of curiosity ; or charms their ears with musical periods, and the careful pomp of mafrniloquent declamation ; or uses the language of the learned for the instruction of the ignorant. If truth is to be communicated, it must be made easily comprehensible by those to whom it is addressed. If hearts are to be won, A DEFEJSDER OF THE GOSPEL. 273 they must be spoken to in the language of tlie heart. And so long as Christian congregations are composed of all orders and classes of society, of women and children as well as of men, and of the unlearned more than the learned, so long they must be addressed in terms of the most intelligible plainness on those plain and simple subjects, which not only alone interest, but alone concern them. Is it not mortify- ing, when an assembly of waiting and needy souls is look- ing up to learn of Christ and heaven, to hear the wise man read to tiiem some elaborate dissertation, like a univer- sity prize essay, for which it is impossible that tliey should feel more interest than for a paper in the Philosophical Trans- actions respecting the atmosphere of the planet Saturn ? Is it not mortifying to observe a sensible man, who, if he had been a lawyer, would have spoken to a jury sensibly, as a man speaks to men, — now, because he is a theologian, talk solemnly to his bewildered and yawning congregation on some subject in which they have no concern, and in some phraseology which he himself would not dream of employ- ing on any other occasion of real life? Of what value are subtile and ingenious disquisitions to souls that have not yet mastered the elements of religious truth? Of what account the most acute and convincing argumentation, if so put that it cannot be apprehended by the hearers? Of what avail the heartiest zeal, if it be wasted on a topic inappropriate, or cloked by unfamiliar speech, which falls dead upon the ear? Yet how much of this has there always been in the Christian church! How has the simplicity of Christ been corrupted by the pedantry of mistaken learning, or buried beneath the mass of cumbrous verbiage ! How often has the most complicated instruction been given on subjects which required the simplest, and to those audiences which needed the plainest ! 374 THE CHRISTIAN MINISTEK But I must pause ; — for who can speak worthily of this great function, by which God has appointed to convert and save the world ? Who, brethren, has not in his mind an idea of the power, grandeur, efficiency, of this divine in- strument, which has never yet been realized ? Who does not look with dissatisfaction on what he has already done, and with despair on what he is likely to do? Yet, blessed be God ! he requires of us no extravagant and impossible attainment. Nor are we to fancy that none are true preach- ers of his word, who do not arrive at a certain excellence in a certain way. The gospel is not so stinted a field as that would imply. There are diversities of operations and gifts, all equally valuable, and all of the same spirit. We cannot suppose that the quiet and affecti^onate John preached like the impetuous Peter, or that James rushed upon the souls of men with the torrent and tempest of the impassioned Paul, — or that those whom Jesus called sons of thunder were just such preachers as those whom the disciples called sons of consolation. There is no one standard. There may be, as there must be, differences. But it was required then, it must be required now, that all preach the gospel, — rationally, earnestly, plainly. It is not necessary that all be masters of an impetuous, exciting, overwhelming elo- quence. The gentle and quiet, the still small voice, may save as many souls as the imposing and magnificent. But, whether loud or soft, whether in thunders or in whispers, there must bo the same life-giving truth — the same spiritual unction — the same simple-hearted earnestness. These it is that will be owned and blessed. These it is that will win souls to heaven, and accomplish the mission of the Son of God. Of the things which we have spoken, this, then, is the sum. The minister of Christ advocates his gospel as a K DEFENDER OF THE GOSPEL. 275 rf.velation; making known truth, proclaiming a law, an- nouncing eternal sanctions. He upholds it as such against infidelity, indifference, and sin, by every effort of a de- voted heart and life ; especially by vindicating it from the pulpit with the utmost earnestness and plainness. May it be your happiness, brethren of this church and society, my very dear friends, to find in your pastor such a defender of the faith ; and may you and he rejoice in it to- gether until the day of the Lord! Brethren, I cordially congratulate you on the prospects of the occasion. It has pleased the Lord to try you by vicissitude and apprehension, but he has brought you to see their end in light and hope. And it cannot but add to your satisfaction, in receiving your present pastor, to enjoy the hearty sympathy and receive the cordial God-speed of those who once stood among you in the same relation, and now are separated from you. They look back to those days when they lived among you and shared your life, with remembrances full of gratitude to God and to you. They bear thankful testimony to you in presence of the churches ; and they commit to you this, our younger brother, assured that his labors will be kindly ap- preciated and his happiness affectionately guarded. My young friend, I am sure that this people deserve, that they will respond to, that they will second, the best work you can do for them in this blessed cause j and they will be, I KNOW, as forbearing and tender, as a minister, conscious of infirmities and often needing forgiveness, can desire. Go among them, therefore, witliout fear. Give them your confidence and your strength. Labor for them and for God in a zealous and plain ministry ; encouraged that they will be your reward here, and he your recompense in heaven. A FAREWELL ADDRESS SECOND CHURCH AND SOCIETY IN BOSTON, DELIVERED OCTOBER 4, 1830. Brethren and Friends : The course of providence has brought us to the day in which I appear before you in the relation of your minister for the last time. I cannot suffer it to pass by and separate us without a parting word. The bond which has so happily connected us, was consecrated in this holy place with formal ceremony, and many words of religious solem- nity. It ought not to be severed in silence. And I would make an unaccustomed effort, that these walls may once more resound with my voice, while I commune with you on the past, and utter the sentiments which belong to the present. The bond between minister and people is near and pecu- liar. It ought not to be formed inconsiderately ; it must not be broken rashly. Strong, deep, fervent affections are bound up with it; tender and intimate feelings surround and hallow it. When confirmed by time and intimacy, if it should be rudely ruptured, many hearts are torn ; even when gently severed, many hearts bleed. Our separation A FAREWELL ABDRESS. 277 — blessed be He who in judgment always remembers mercy - — is not sudden nor abrupt — is not the consequence of dissension, dissatisfaction, or division — has not been sought or desired on either side. It is the gradual result of cir- cumstances, ordered not by man, but by an uncontrollable Providence, which arrested the minister in the midst of his labors, when he was engaged in them with more than usual satisfaction, and more than usual encouragement; — a prov- idence, which, having withdrawn him from your service, presented to you, at once, a man on whom your hearts could rest, and provided for him another sphere of duty. We separate, therefore, in unbroken good-will ; and commend each other to God as we part, not only from a sense of Christian duty, but with a warm sentiment of brotherly af- fection. It is a reason for devout gratitude to-day, that, with all the trials which have borne upon us, and intro- duced this event, we have been spared that bitterest of all — alienation and dissension. It is impossible, on the arrival of a moment like this — when one scene of life closes, and one long period of ac- countableness is made up for judgment — not to look back and survey that period with anxious retrospection. In doing this, many reflections crowd upon the mind which may not be communicated to others ; and some which it would be wrong not to utter. Of such I would speak briefly, as in the midst of friends who will not misunderstand me, nor require an apology for the egotism of the occasion. If I were to mention all that I discern in the past, of error, negligence, unfaithfulness, on my own part, I should only unnecessarily pain you, and perhaps seem to be making an exhibiti(m of humility. But some of you will under- stand me when I say, that I feel I need their forgiveness for instances of what must have seemed to them culpable '2i 278 A FAREWELL ADDRESS, remissness; and I cannot be at ease, except by hoping that they have granted it. Indeed, no one, who has not expe- rienced the difficulty of always doing all that is to be done in the complicated and trying walks of the pastoral office, can guess with what bitterness a minister is sometimes com- pelled to reproach himself, and how the kind approbation of his friends serves only to humble and rebuke him under a consciousness that he ill deserves it. For you — you have borne with my weakness, overlooked my neglects, been liberal to my necessities, candid to my faults. I can only thank you for that indulgence which has made my path pleas- antness and peace ; and beseech you to cheer the way of my successor with similar kindness. Yet, whatever may have been my failure in executing the plan of my ministry, with the plan itself I perceive no rea- son to be dissatisfied. Being persuaded that the private duties of personal and pastoral intercourse are, at least, as important as the public exercises of the pulpit, and in fact necessary to their efficiency and success, it has been my wish and purpose to give much of my time and affections peculiarly to this sphere of action. If I have done any good, I attribute it almost entirely to the opportunities and power which I have in this way gained. That I have done no more, I feel now to be mainly owing to remissness, irres- olution, and want of exact method in prosecuting this, the most difficult as well as important department of the minis- ter's labors. The same may be said in regard to the instruction of the children and youth of the congregation, — always an es- sential and favorite part of my plan, though pursued with so little systematic perseverance. As regards the manner in which I have proposed to dis- charge the great function of preaching God's word, it has A FAREWELL ADDRESS. 279 simply been my endeavor to administer a suitable mixture of doctrinal instruction and moral exhortation ; to state dis- tinctly what seem to be the truths of revelation, accom- panied always with expositions and illustrations from the Scriptures, and with explicit application to the characters and consciences of those who hear. I have wished to give you neither doctrinal discussions nor moral speculations in any other form than as drawn from the gospel of Jesus Christ, and singly designed to affect our hearts and lives. Undoubtedly I have failed of realizing my own standard; but I look back with shame to every instance in which I allowed any circumstances to lead me astray from this right and true path into a more showy but less profitable method. If I thus survey with mixed feelings the conduct of my ministry, in a similar manner do I regard its success. In some respects it is grateful to me, in some respects it is sad. I think that I have seen, upon the whole, a general improve- ment in the religious condition of the congregation. Some individuals I have witnessed making noiseless, and steady, persevering progress in a religious character. Some I have seen reformed from worldliness and sin, and changed into conscientious followers of the Christian life. Some I have seen growing up from childhood to manhood, uniformly at- tached to the truth, and influenced by a regard to God. I have witnessed, in general, a punctual attendance on public worship, and have found encouragement from many who sought edification at more private religious exercises during the week. A larger proportion than formerly have been in- duced to profess their faith at the Lord's tal)le ; and if many still refrain without sufRcient apology, I am willing at least to share the blame of their neglect; for if I had done my whole duty in regard to that ordinance, who can tell but they might have done theirs ? Finally, in plans of general 280 A FAREWELL ADDRESS. good, and contributions for religious charity, I have never wanted countenance and aid ; and though not among the wealthiest, I will not deny myself the pleasure of saying, that the Second Church has been among'^the readiest and most liberal of givers. In these particulars I have expressed, and do express, my satisfaction — devoutly thankful to God that he appointed me to labor where my labors were seconded, and I could see that I did not toil wholly in vain; Yet, friends and brethren, I should be false to you and to the truth, should I leave you with the pleasant impression that there is nothing to be rebuked, lamented, or improved among you. Alas ! it cannot be so; and it will be a useful exercise for you also to look back impartially to-day, and awaken your consciences ; for you are no less accountable than your minister for the connection which is now closing. I exhort you, therefore, as in the presence of Him who sees all hearts, and as those who must give account, to give one hour to consideration to-day. Ask yourselves how far you have been faithful to your privileges — how far you have used them diligently to promote your religious knowl- edge, and advance your Christian standing? Can you perceive that you are better men, more devout, benevolent, and thoughtful? Or have all these years, with their Sab- baths, prayers, and exhortations, passed over, and left you as you were ? Alas ! is it not to be feared that there are many among you who can answer these questions with little satisfaction? who have moved on year after year unim- proved, and are going down to their graves as ignorant and imperfect as they were fourteen years ago? Will they not look at themselves now ? Will they not heed a parting exhortation, though they have heard so many in vain? To- A FAREWELL ADDRESS. 281 day, at least, let them not harden their hearts. " For what shall it profit a man if he gain the whole world, and lose his own soul ? " * But there are others to whom I look with pleasure and congratulation. I have witnessed the growth of their faith, I have seen the advancement of their virtue, I have known their perseverance in good works. To them I say, Go on, and the Lord go with you in peace and strength. And yet, what I say unto all, I say also unto them — Watch. And now, brethren, my work among you is ended. Such as it has been, it is over. For you, and for me, the account is sealed up for a solemn judgment. The day is coming which will try it as with fire, and disclose to us its true character, with all its lasting consequences. Join me, brethren, in the prayer, that God will show mercy in that day ! Meantime, we are to finish our mortal probation apart. Yet I cannot feel that I shall be separated from you. This house will long seem to me my own religious home, and those who worship here, the members of my own religious household. Still, as returns the hallowed day, my spirit will come up among you, as it has done from across the ocean, and amid the worship of strange lands, to join in your praises, and bend with you at the mercy-seat. And when the day shall arrive that these temples have mouldered, and all earthly worship ceased, — when the scattered con- Tregations of the saints shall assemble together with the church of the first-born in heaven, — then, too, it is my hope and prayer that we shall be found side by side in the wor- ship of eternity, and accompany one another still in that * These words were the text of Mr. Emerson's sermon preached just before the delivery of this Address. 24* 282 A FAREWELL ADDRESS, career of infinite progress and spiritual glory which we commenced together here. In this hope, I bid you — as your minister — farewell. I rejoice that I do not leave you alone, but to the guidance of able hands, and the instruction of faithful lips. God bestow upon your minister, and upon you, the choicest of spiritual blessings ! May he lead, support, encourage, cheer, and save you ! May the spirit of Christ dwell in you richly with all wisdom ; and the peace of God, which passeth all understanding, abide among you, and sanctify vou always! ON THE FORMATION CHRISTIAN CHARACTER ADDRESSED TO THOSK WHO ARE SEEKING TO LEAD A RELIGIOUS LIFE. AUTHOR'S PREFACE. In presenting to the religious public this little book,* the writer has only to say, that he undertook it because he thouglit that a ■work of this character was needed and would be welcome. During his active ministry, he had often felt the want of a book on per- sonal religion, different, in some respects, from any which had fallen in his way ; and when compelled by ill health to relinquisli hia pastoral cares, he attempted to beguile some of the languid hours of a weary convalescence by efforts at composing such a one. The result has come very far short of the idea which he had formed in his mind. The book was written at distant and uncer- tain intervals, upon journeys and in public houses, and has been now revised for the press in tiie midst of other cares, which have allowed no time for giving it the completeness he desired. Yet, as it belongs to a class of writings of whose importance he has the highest sense, and the multiplication of which, as well as the in- crease of a taste for their perusal, he esteems in the highest measure desirable, — he ventures to hope that tliis slight effort will not be wholly lost ; and that it may at least do something towards exciting others to a preparation of more efficient works, which shall nourish the spirit of devotion, and extend the power of practical faith. CAMBRlUCiK, Mui/ IG, 1831. * The "Christian Character" was originally published in a small volume. CONTENTS F&GE. Introdoction, 287 CHAPTER I. The A'ature of Religion, and what we are to seek. — Religion de- scribed — exemplified in the character of Christ — an ardu- ous attainment — caution against low views, 269 CHAPTER II. Our Power to obtain that which we seek. — The capacity for re- ligion in human nature — education — the natural and the spiritual life — man's ability to do the will of God — false humility — salvation by grace, 297 CHAPTER III. The Slate of Mind in which the Inquirer should siistuiti himself. — Sense of unworthiness — anxiety of mind — rulers to be observed respecting retirement, conversation, public Tuoet- Jngs, 30G CHAPTER IV. The Means of Religious Improvement, 3] 4 I. Reading. — Duty of seeking religious knowledge — its ad- vantages — time to be given to it — the Bible — to be read 286 CONTENTS. tkOt, for instruction in truth — for self-application — selection of other books, 314 II. Meditation. — Its object — habitual thoughtfulness — sea- sons of meditation — enjoyment to be expected in them — caution — three purposes to be answered, 'V27 III. Prayer. — Its necessity and value — importance of set times — method to be observed — subjects — posture — lan- guage — frequency and brevity — ejaculatory prayer — faith, fervor, perseverance — answers to prayer — topics — in the name of Christ — caution — spirit of devotion, 336 .IV. Preacliing. — A divine institution — necessity of prepara- tion for hearing — a critical disposition — reflection on what has been heard — on keeping a record of sermons — weak- ness of memory — a taste for preaching to be preserved,. . . 357 V. The Lord's Supper. — Its object twofold, profession of faith, and means of improvement — who to partake, and ^Jien — an affecting and comprehensive rite — an opportu- nity for silent worship — conclusion, 367 CHAPTER V. Tkc Religious Discipline of Life. — The means of religion not to be mistaken for the end — watchfulness, daily duties and trials — discipline of the thoughts, dispositions, passions, appetites — conversation — ordinary deportment — guard to be kept over the principles — and over the habits, 375 FORMATION CHRISTIAN CHARACTER INTRODUCTION. I AM anxious to bespeak the reader's right attention before he enters on the following pages. They have been written only for those who are sincerely desirous of knowing them- selves, and are bent upon forming a religious character. They can be of little interest or value to any other person, or if read with any other view than that of self-improve- ment. I venture, therefore, to entreat every one, into whose hands the book may fall, to peruse it, as it has been written, not for entertainment, but for moral edification; to read it at those seasons when he is seriously disposed, and can reflect upon the important topics presented to his view. I am solicitous to aid him in the formation of his Christian character, and about every other result I am in- different. I would even presume, further, to warn one class of read- ers, and that not a small one, against a danger which lurks even in their established respect for religion. That general regard for it, which grows out of the circumstances of edu- cation and the habits of society, may be mistaken for a re- 288 INTRODUCTION, ligious state of mind ; yet it is perfectly consistent with religious indifference. A man may sincerely honor, advo- cate, and uphold the religion of Christ on account of its general influence, its beneficial public tendency, its humane and civilizing consequences, without at all subjecting his own temper and life to its laws, or being in any proper sense a subject of the peculiar happiness it imparts. This is perhaps not an infrequent case. Men need to be made sensible that religion is a personal thing, a matter of per- sonal application and experience. Unless it is so consid- ered, it will scarcely be an object of earnest pursuit, or of fervent, hearty interest, nor can it exert its true and thor- ough influence on the character. Indeed, its desirable in- fluence upon the state of society can be gained only through this deep personal devotion to it of individuals ; because none but this is genuine religion, and the genuine only can exhibit the genuine power. 1 know of nothing to be more earnestly desired, than that men should cease to look upon religion as designed for others, and should come to regard it as primarily affecting themselves ; that they should first and most seriously study its relation to their own hearts, and be above all things anxious about their own characters. His is but a partial and unsatisfactory faith, which is concerned wholly with the state of society in general, and allows him to neglect the discipline of his own affections and the culture of his own spiritual nature. He is but poorly fitted to honor or promote the cause of Christ, who has not first subjected his own soul to his holy government. There are men enough, when Christianity is prevalent and honorable, to lend it their countenance and pay it external homage. We want more thorough, consistent exemplifications of its purity, benevo- lence, and spirituality. These can be found only in men, THE NATURE OF RELIGION. 289 who love it for its own sake, and because it is " the wisdom of God and the power of God unto salvation," and not simply because it is respectable in the eyes of the world, and favorable to the decency and order of the common- wealth. It is for those who are seeking this end, and for such only, that I write. CHAPTER I. THE NATURE OF RELIGION, AND WHAT WE ARE TO SEEK. Tn order to the intelligent and successful pursuit of any object, it is necessary, first of all, to have a definite con- ception of what we desire to effect or obtain. This is especially important in the study of religion, both because of the extent and variety of the subject itself, and because of the very different apprehensions of men respecting it. Many are di.sheartened and fail, in consequence of setting out with wrong views and false expectations ; from which cause religion itself suffers, being made answerable for failures which are entirely owing to the unreasonable anti- cipations and ill-directed efforts of those who enlisted in her service, but did not persevere in it. Let us begin, then, with considering what is the object at which we aim when we seek a religious character. Religion, in a general sense, is founded on man's relation and accountableness to his Maker; and it consists in cher- ishing the sentiments and performing the duties which thence result, and which belong to the other relations to other beings which God has appointed him to sustain. 25 290 THE NATURE OF RELIGION, Concerning these relations, sentiments, and duties, we are instructed in the Scriptures, especially in the New Tes- tament. Religion, with us, is the Christian religion. It is found in the teachings and example of Jesus Ciirist. It consists in the worship, the sentiments, and the character, which he enjoined, and which he illustrated in his own person. What you are to seek, therefore, is, under the guidance of Jesus Christ, to feel your relation to God, and to live under a sense of responsibility to him ; to cultivate assid- uously those sentiments and affections which spring out of this responsible and filial relation, as well as those which arise out of your connection with other men as his off- spring; to perform all the duties to him and them, which appertain to this character and relation ; and to cherish that heavenward tendency of mind, which should spring from a consciousness of possessing an immortal nature. He who does all this is a religious man, or, in other words, a Christian. You desire to be a Christian. To this are requisite three things : belief in the truths which the gospel reveals ; pos- session of the state of mind which it enjoins ; and perform- ance of the duties which it requires : or, I may say, the subjection of the mind by faith, the subjection of the heart by love, the subjection of the will by obedience. This uni- versal submission of yourself to God is what you are to aim at. This is religion. Observe how extensive a thing it is. It is a principle of the mind: founded upon thought, reflection, inquiry, argu- ment; and leading to devotion and duty as most reasonable and suitable for intelligent beings. It is a sentiment or affection of the heart ; not the cold judgment of the intellect alone, in favor of what is right; THE NATUKE OF RELIGIOX. 291 but a warm, glowing feeling of preference and desire; a feeling which attaches itself in love to the Father of all, and to all good beings; which turns duty into inclina- tion, and pursues virtue from impulse; which prefers and delights in that which is well pleasing to God, and takes an affectionate interest in the things to which the Savior de- voted himself It is a rule of life; it is the law of God ; causing the external conduct to correspond to the principle which is established, and the sentiment which breathes, within; bringing every action into a conformity with the divine will, and making universal holiness the standard of the character. The Scriptures represent religion under each of these ditferent views. As a principle, it is called Faith ; and in this view is faith extolled as the essential thing for life and salvation. We are to " walk by faith." We are " saved l)y faith." As a sentiment, it is styled Love. Love to God and man is declared by the Savior to be the substance of religion, and the apostles, especially John and Paul, every where represcnl this universal affection as the essence and the beauty of the Christian character. No one can read their language, and compare with it the life of Christ, with- out perceiving how essentially true religion is a sentiment of the heart. As a law or rule, it is spoken of throughout the Scriptures. It is a commandment of God, requiring obedience. We are " to do his will." Christ is the " au- thor of salvation to those that obey him." " If thou wilt enter into life, keep the commandments." " He who keep- eth my connnandments, he it is that loveth me." In the general complexion of Scripture, and in many particular passages, these several views are united : thus we are told that " the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, 292 THE NATURE OF RELIGIOX. long-suffering, gentleness, goodness, faith, meekness, tem- perance ; " that the blessing of God belongs to the humble, penitent, meek, pure in heart, merciful, and peaceful ; that the Christian character consists in " whatsoever is true, hon- est, just, pure, lovely, and of good report;" in adding to " faitli, virtue, knowledge, temperance, patience, godliness, brotherly kindness, and charity ; " and " in denying ungod- liness and worldly lusts, and living soberly, righteously, and godly." * You see, then, what is the character of the religion which you are seeking. You perceive that it implies the absolute supremacy of the soul and its interests over all the objects and interests of the present state ; and that its primary characteristic is a certain state of mind and affections. It is not the external conduct, not the observance of the moral law alone, which constitutes a religious man ; but the prin- ciples from which he acts, the motives by whicli he is gov- erned, the state of his heart. A principle of spiritual life pervades his intellectual nature, gives a complexion to his whole temper, and is the spring of that moral worth, which is in other men the result of education, circumstances, or interest. He is actuated by a prevailing sense of God, and the desire of a growing resemblance to his moral image. He is possessed with the perpetual consciousness of his im- mortality, and is not ashamed to deny himself any of the gratifications of the present hour, when thereby he may keep his mind more disengaged for the study of truth and the contemplation of his highest good. Living tluis with his chief sources of happiness icithin him, he bears with equanimity the changes and trials of earth, and tastes some- • Gal. V. 22, 23; Matt. v. 3—9 ; Phil. iv. 8; 2 Pet. i. 6, 7; Tit ii. 12. THE NATURE OK RELIGION. 293 Ihing of the peculiar felicity of heaven, which is " right- eousness, and peace, and joy in a Holy Spirit;" and, like his Master, who sojourned below, but whose affections were above, he does his Father's will as he passes through the world, but has treasured up his supreme good in his Father's future presence. But if you would discern the full excellence and loveli- ness of the religious life, do not rest satisfied with studying the law, or musing over the descriptions of it. Go to the perfect pattern, which has been set before the believer for his guidance and encouragement. Look unto Jesus, the Author and Finisher of your faith. In him are exhibited all the virtues which you are to practise, all the affections and graces which you are to cultivate. In him is that rich assemblage of beautiful and attractive excellences, which has been the admiration of all reflecting men, the astonishment and eulogy of eloquent unbelievers, and the guide, con.sola- tiou, and trust, of faithful disciples. In the dignity and sweetness which characterize him, how strongly do we feel that there is much more than a display of external qualities, conformity to a prescribed rule, and graceful propriety of outward demeanor ! Nothing is more striking xhan the evi- dent connection of every thing which he said and did with something internal. The sentiment and disposition which reign within are constantly visible through his exterior de- portment ; and we regard his words and his deeds less as distinct outward things, than as expressions or representa- tions of character. As, in looking on certain countenances, we have no thought of color, feature, or form, but simply of the moral or intellectual qualities which they suggest, so, in contemplating the life of Jesns, we find ourselves perpetually looking beyond his mere actions, and fixing our thoughts on the qualities which they indicate. His life is 294 THE NATURE OF RELIGION. but the expressive countenance of his soul. We feel that, though in the midst of present things, he is led by princi- ples, wrapped in thoughts, pervaded by sentiments, which are above earth, unearthly ; that he is walking in commun- ion with another sphere ; and that the objects around him are matters of interest to him no further than as they afford materials for the exercise of his benevolence and opportuni- ties for doing his Father's will. This is the personification of religion. This is the model which you are to imitate. And it is when you shall be im- bued with this spirit ; when you shall be filled with this sen- timent ; when your words, actions, and life, shall be only the spontaneous expression of this state of mind, — it is then that you will have attained the religious character, and be- come spiritually the child of God. You will have built up the kingdom of God within you; its purity, its devotion, and its peace, will be shed abroad in your heart, and thence will display themselves in the manners and conduct of your life. To attain and perfect this character is to be the object of your desire, and the business of your life. You must never lose sight o^ it. In all that you learn, think, feel, and do, you are to have reference to this end. Whatever tends to promote this, you are to cherish and favor. Whatever hin- ders this, or in any degree operates injuriously upon it, you are to discountenance and shun. All that gives bias to your passions and appetites, to your inclinations and thoughts, to your opinicm of yourself, to your conduct toward others, your private or public employment of your time, your business and gains, your recreation and pleas- ures, is to be judged of by this standard, and condemned or approved accordingly. You are to feel that nothing is of Buch consequence to you as the Christian character ; that to THE NATURE OF RELIGION. 295 form this is the very work for which you were sent into the world ; that if this be not done, you do nothing, — you had better never have been born ; for your life is wasted without effecting its object, and your soul enters eternity without having secured its salvation. The provisions of God's mercy are slighted, and for you the Savior has lived and died in vain. It is plain, then, that the work to which you address your- self is arduous as well as delightful. It is not to be done in a short time, nor by a few indolent or violent efforts ; not by an exercise of speculative reason, nor by an excitement of feeling, nor by assent to professions, forms, and rites ; not by a love of hearing the word preached, nor by atten- tion to the morals of ordinary life, nor by steadfastness in the virtues which are easy and pleasant ; but only by a surrender of the whole man and the entire life to the will of God, in faith, affection, and action; by a thorough imita- tion of Jesus in the devout and humble temper of his mind, in the spirituality of his affections, and in the purity and loveliness of his conduct. Any thing less than this, any partial, external, superficial conformity to a rule of decent living or ritual observance, must be wholly insuthcient. For it cannot mould and rule the character, cannot answer the claims of the Creator upon his creatures, cannot pre- pare for the happiness which Jesus has revealed ; — a happi- ness so described, and so constituted, that none can be fitted for it, or be capable of enjoying it, but those who are earnestly and entirely conformed to the divine will. Who can relish the spiritual pleasures of eternity, that has not become spiritually minded ? Who could enjoy admission to the society of Jesus, and the spirits of the just made perfect, that is not like them? Why should one hope for heaven, 296 THE NATURE OF RELIGION. and how expect to be happy there, if he have not formed a taste for its habits of purity, worship, and love ? Be on your guard, therefore, from the first, against setting your mark too low. Do not allow yourself to be persuaded that any thing less is religion, or will answer for you, than its complete and highest measure. Remember that these things must be " in you and abound." The higher you aim, the higher you will reach ; but if content with a low aim, you will forever fall short. The scriptural word is perfection. Strive after that. Never be satisfied while short of it, and then you will be always improving. But if you set yourself some definite measure of goodness, if you prescribe to yourself some limit in devotion and love, you will by and by fancy you have reached it, and thus will remain stationary in a condition far below what you might have attained. Remember, always, that you are capable of being more devout, more charitable, more humble, more de- voted and earnest in doing good, better acquainted with religious truth ; and that, as it is impossible there should be any period to the progress of the human soul, so it is im- possible that the endeavor of the soul should be too exalted. It is because men do not think of this, or do not practically apply it, that so many, even of those who intend to govern themselves by religious motives, remain so lamentably defi- cient in excellence. They adopt a low or a partial stand- ard, and strive after it sluggishly, and thus come to a period in religion before they arrive at the close of life. Happy they who are so filled with longings after spiritual good, that they go on improving to the end of their days. OUR POWER TO OBTAIN THAT WHICH WE SEEK. 297 CHAPTER II. ovn I'owr.K to ohtain that wjikii we seek. The account which has been given of religion in the preceding chapter shows it to be consonant to man's nature, and suited to the faculties with which God has endowed him. Ilis soul is formed for religion, and the gospel has been adapted to the constitution of his soul. His under- standing takes cognizance of its truths, his conscience applies them, his affections are capable of becoming inter- ested in them, and his will of being subject to them. There can be no moment of existence, after he has come to the exercise of his rational faculties, at which this is not the case. As soon as he can love and obey his parents, he can love and obey God ; and this is religion. The capacity of doing the one is the capacity of doing the other. It is true, the latter is not so universally done as the former; but the cause is not, that religion is unsuited to the young, but that their attention is engrossed by visible objects and present pleasures. Occupied with these, it requires effort and painstaking to direct the mind to invisible things; to turn the attention from the objects which press them on every side, to the abstract, spiritual objects of faith. Hence it is easy to see that the want of early religion is owing, primarily, to the circumstances in which childhood is placed, and, next, to remissness in education. Worldly things are before the child's eye, and minister to its gratifi- cation every hour and every minute ; but religious things are presented to it only in a formal and dry way once a week. The things of the world are made to constitute its pleasures ; those of religion are made its tasks. It is made 298 OUR POWER TO OBTAIN THAT WHICH WE SEEK to feel its dependence on a parent's Jove every hour ; but ia seldom reminded of its dependence on God, and then, per- haps, only in some stated lesson, which it learns by com- pulsion, and not in the midst of the actual engagements and pleasures of its little life. It partakes of the caresses of its human parents, and cannot remember the time when it was not an object of their tenderness ; so that their image is interwoven with its very existence. But God it has never seen, and has seldom heard of him ; his name and presence are banished from common conversation, and inferior and visible agents receive the gratitude for gifts which come from him. So also the parent's authority is immediate and visibly exercised, and obedience grows into the rule and habit of life. But the authority of God is not displayed in any sensible act or declaration ; it is only heard of at set times and in set tasks; and thus it fails of becoming min- gled with the principles of conduct, or forming a rule and habit of subjection. In a word, let it be considered how little and how infrequently the idea of God is brought home to the child's mind, even under the most favorable circumstances, and how little is done to make him the object of love and obe- dience, in comparison with what is done to unite its affec- tions to its parents ; while, at the same time, the spiritutility and invisibility of the Creator render it necessary that even more should be done ; and it will be seen that the want of an early and spontaneous growth of the religious character is not owing to the want of original capacity for religion, but is to be traced to the unpropitious circumstances in which childhood is passed, and the want of uniform, earnest, per- severing instruction. I have made this statement for two reasims. First, be- cause I tliink it points out the innnense importance of a re- ligions, education, and is an urgent call upon parents for OUR POWER TO OBTAIN THAT WHICH WE SEEK. 299 greater diligence in tliis duty. No parent will deliberately say, in excuse for his neglect, that his children arc inca- pable of apprehending and performing their duty to God. lie will perceive that the same operation of circumstances and of unceasing influences, which has made them devoted to him, woidd make them devoted to God ; and religion is that state of mind toward God which a good child exer- cises toward a parent. It is the same principle and the same affections, fixing themselves on an infinitely higher object. Let parents be aware of this, and they will feel the call and the encouragement to a more systematic and affectionate attention to the religious instruction of their children. I have made this statement, moreover, because it offers a guide to those who have passed through childhood without permanent religious impressions, and are now desirous of attaining them. It is principally for such that I write. They maybe divided into many classes; some more and some less distant from the kingdom of God ; .some profli- gate, some indifferent ; some with much goodness of out- ward performance, but with no internal principle of faith and piety ; and some without even external conformity to right. But however differing in their past course of life, and in the peculiar habits and di.^positions which charac- terize them, in one thing they now agree, — they are sen- sible of their errors and sins, and desire to apply themselves to that true and living way, which shall lead them to the favor of God and everlasting life. They feel that there is a great work to be done, a great change to be effected, either internally or externally, or both, and they are desirous to learn in wliat manner it shall be accomplished. To such persons the statement which I have made above may be useful. Let them look back to it, and reflect upon 300 OUR POWER TO OBTAIN THAT WHICH WE SEEK. it. God has given them powers for doing the work which he has assigned to them. That work is expressed in one word — the comprehensive name Religion, That work they should have begun and perseveringly pursued from their earliest days. But tliey have done otherwise. They have wandered from duty, and been unfaithful to God. They have gone far from him, like the unwise prodigal, and wasted the portion he gave them in vicious or unprofit- able pursuits. They have cultivated the animal life; they have lived " according to the flesh." They need to culti- vate the spiritual life; to live "according to the Spirit." There is an animal life, and there is a spiritual life. Man is born into the first at the birth of his body ; he is born into the second when he subjects himself to the power of religion, and prefers his rational and immortal to his sen- sual nature. During his earliest days, he is an animal only, pursuing, like other animals, the wants and desires of his body, and consulting his present gratification and immediate interest. But it is not designed that he shall continue thus. He is made for something better and higher. He has a nobler nature and nobler interests. He must learn to live for these; and this learning to feel and value his spiritual nature, and to live for eternity — this change from the animal and earthly existence of infancy to a rational, moral, spirit- ual existence, — this is to be born into the spiritual life. This is a renovation of principle and purpose through which every one must pavss. Every one must thus turn from his natural devotion to things earthly to a devotion to things heavenly. This change it is the object of the gospel to effect ; and we seek no less than this, when we seek the influence of the gospel on our souls. Now, the persons of whom I am speaking have not yet acquired this new taste and principle. It has made, with OUR rOWEK TO OBTAIN THAT WHICH WE SEEK. 301 tliein, no part of the process of education. It is yet to be acquired. They are desirous of acquiring it. Let them first be persuaded of its absolute neccssiti/. Until this is felt, nothing can be etFoctually done. Without it, there will be no such strenuous effort for religious attainment as is necessary to success. Many persons have at times, some have frequently, a certain conviction upon their minds, that they are not passing their lives as they ought, and they make lialf a resolution to do differently. They are ill-content with their condition ; they long to be free from the re- proaches of conscience ; tiicy wish to be assured that their souls are safe. But, although uneasy and dissatisfied, they take no steps toward improving their condition, because they have no proper persuasion of its absolute necessity. They must be deeply convinced of this. They must strong- ly feel that a state of indifference is a state of danger ; that they are on the brink of ruin, so long as they are alienated from God, and governed by passion, appetite, and inclina- tion, rather than a sense of duty. And such is the power of habit, that they in vain hope to be delivered from its bondage, and to become consistent followers of Christ, unless a strong feeling shall lead them to make a resolute, energetic effort. If they allow themselves to fancy that it will be time enough by and by ; that, after all, the case is not very desperate, but can be remedied at any time ; and that it would be a pity yet to abandon their pleasant vices — then there is no hope for them. They are cherishing the most dangerous of aJl states of mind — a state which pre- vents all real desire for improvement, is continually weak- ening their power of change, and absolutely destroys the prospect of amendment. They must begin the remedy by a persuasion of its necessity. They must feel it so strongly, that they caimot rest content without iinmcfyatcly subjecting 302 OUR POWER TO OBTAIN THAT WHICH WE SEEK. themselves to the dominion of religion, — as a starving man feels the necessity of immediately applying to the search for food. No man will give himself to the thoughts, studies, devotions, and charities, of a religious life, who does not find them essential to the satisfaction and peace of his mind ; that is, who is satisfied without them. Cherish, therefore, the conviction of this necessity. Cultivate by every pos- sible means a deep persuasion of the truth, that the service and love of God are the only sufficient sources of happiness ; and that only pain and shame can await him who withholds his soul from the light and purity for which it was made. Feeling thus the importance of a religious life, let them next be persuaded that its attainment is entirely in their power. It is but to use the faculties which God has given them, in the work and with the aid which God has ap- pointed. No one will venture to say that he is incapable of this. A religious life, as we have seen, grows out of the relations in which man stands to God and his fellow-men ; and as he is made accountable for the performance of the duties of these relations, it is impossible that he is not cre- ated capable of performing them. It were as reasonable to urge that a child cannot love and obey its father and mother, as that a man cannot love and obey God. Yet it so happens, that some profess to be deterred from a religious course by the apprehension that it is not in their power ; it is something which it must be given them to do ; a work which must be wrought in them by a supernatural energy ; they must wait till their time has come. But every apology for irreligion, founded on reasons like this, is evi- dently deceptive. It proceeds upon wrong notions respect- ing the divine aid imparted to man. That this aid is needed, and is given in the Christian life, is a true and comforting doctrine. But yiat it is to supersede human exertion, that it OUR PUW'KK TO OBTAIN THAT WHICH WE SEEK. 333 18 a reason for indnlciice and religions neglect, is a false and pernicious notion, — countenanced, I will venture to affirm, by no one whose opinion or example is honored or followed in the Ciiristian church. On the contrary, ail agree in de- claring, with the apostle, that, while " God works in us to will and to do," we are to " work out our own salvation ; " and to do it with " fear and trembling," because, after all, these divine influences will be vain without our own dili- gence. In some persons, this notion takes the form of a real or fancied humility. They fear lest they be found seeking sal- vation through their own works, and relying on their own merits. But what a strange humility this, which leads to a disregard of the divine will, and disobedience to the divine commands ; which virtually says, " I will continue in sin, that grace may abound" ! Let me ask, too, Who will trust to receive salvation without actual obedience ? Where is it promised to those who will do nothing in the way of self- government and active virtue? Where is it oifered to any, but those who seek it by " bringing forth fruits meet for re- pentance," and by "patient continuance in well-doing"? And let none fear lest this make void the grace of God. For how is it that grace leads to salvation? Is it by arbi- trarily fitting the soul for it, and ushering it into heaven without its own cooperation 1 Or is it not rather by open- ing a free highway to the kingdom of life, through which all may walk and be saved? This is what the Savior has done; he has made the path of life accessible and plain, has thrown open the gate of heaven, has taught men how to enter in and reach their bliss. Whoever pursues this path, and enters " through the gate into tiie city," is saved by grace. For though he has used his own powers to travel on this highway, yet he did not e.^^tablish that highway ; nor 304 OUR POWER TO OBTAIN THAT 'WHICH WE SEEK. could he have traversed it without guidance and aid ; nor could he have opened for himself the door of entrance. Heaven is still a free gift, inasmuch as it is granted by infinite benignity to those who did not, do not, and cannot deserve it. Yet there are certain conditions to be per- formed ; and to refuse the performance of those condi- tions, on the plea that you thus derogate from the mercy of God, and do something to purchase or merit happiness, is a madness which ought to be strenuously opposed, or it will leave you to perish in your sins. These two things, then, may be regarded as axioms of the religious life; first, that a man's own labors are essential to his salvation ; second, that his utmost virtue does noth- ing toward purchasing or meriting salvation. When he has done all his duty, he is still, as the Savior declares, but an " unprofitable servant." lie has been more than recom- pensed by the blessings of this present life. That the hap- piness of an eternal state may be attained, in addition to these, is a provision of pure grace ; and it is mere insanity to neglect the duties of religion through any fear lest you should seem to be seeking heaven on the ground of your own desert. Virtue would be your duty, though you were to perish forever at the grave ; and that God has opened to his children the prospect of a future inheritance infinitely disproportioned to their merit, is only a further reason for making virtue your first and chief pursuit. It is true, there is great infirmity in human nature ; and you will find yourself perplexed and harassed by tempta- tions from without and within. Passion, appetite, pleasure, and care, solicit and urge you, and render it not easy to keep yourself unspotted from the world. But what then ? Does this excuse the want of exertion ? Is this a good reason for sitting idly with folded arms, and saying. It is all vain ; OUR POWER TO OBTAIN THAT WHICH WE SEEK. 303 1 am wretchedly weak ; I cannot undertake this work till God gives me strength? Believe nie, there is no humility in this. Think of yourself and of your deserts as humbly as you please ; but to think so meanly of the powers God has given you, as to deem them insufficient for the work he has assigned you, is less humility than ingratitude and want of faith. Nothing is truer than this, — that your work is proportioned to your powers, and your trials to your strength. *' No temptation hath taken you but such as is common to man ; but God is faithful, who will not suffer you to be tempted above that ye are able ; but will, with the tempta- tion, also make a way to escape, that ye may be able to bear it." Here is the manifestation of peculiar grace; when a sincere and humble spirit, in its earnest search for the true way, encounters obstacles, hardships, and opposition, at this moment it is that aid from on high is interposed. The promise to Paul is fulfilled, " My strength is made perfect in weakness." " The Spirit helpeth our infirmities." Let it be, then, that human nature is weak ; no work is appointed greater than its power, and it " can do all things through Christ, who strengtheneth." Be thoroughly persuaded, therefore, that the work before you is wholly within your power. Nothing has a more palsying effect on one's exertions in any enterprise, than the doubt whether he be equal to it. Something like confi- dence is necessary to enable him to pursue it vigorously and perscverinixly. It is as necessary in action as the apostle represents it to be in prayer. " He that wavereth or doubteth is like a wave of the sea, driven by the wind and tossed." But when he has confidence, as the Christian may have, that his strength is equal to his task, that he cannot fiil if he resolutely go forward, and that all hiuder- ances must disappear before a steady and industrious zeal, •20* 306 STATE OF MIND NECESSARY FOR THE INQUIRER, which leans upon God, and is strong in the power of the Lord, then he presses on with alacrity, encounters trials without alarm, and is " steadfast, immovable, always abound- in the work of the Lord ; knowing that his labor is not in vain in the Lord ; " for that nothing but his own fault can bar him out of heaven, or cause him to fail of eternal life. And all this is perfectly consistent with the deepest humility, and the profoundest sense of dependence on God. CHAPTER III. THE STATE OF MIND IN WHICH THE INQUIRER SHOULD SUSTAIN HIMSELF. All this, I say, is perfectly consistent with the deepest humility and most unassuming dependence upon God. If it were not, it would be false and wrong ; for an humble and dependent disposition is a prime requisite in the Christian — a grace to be especially cultivated at the beginning of the religious course. It is concerning this state of mind that we are now to speak. Deep religious impressions are always accompanied by a sense of personal unworthiness, and not unfrequently com- mence with it. It is man's acquaintance with himself which leads him most earnestly to seek the acquaintance of God, and to perceive the need of his favor. The sense of sin; the feeling that his life has not been right; that his heart is not pure ; that his thoughts, dispositions, appetites, passions, have not been duly regulated ; that he has lived STATE OF MIND NECESSARY FOR THE INQUIRER. 307 according to his own will, and not that of God ; that, if taken from his worldly possessions, he has no other object of desire and affection to which his heart could cling ; if called to judgment for the use of his powers and privileges, he must be speechless and hopeless ; — all this rises solemnly to his mind, and sinks him low under a sense of ill desert and shame. He sees that he might have been, ought to have been, better; that he might have been, ought to have been, obedient to God, and a follower of all that is good. He cannot excuse himself to himself Every effort to palli- ate his guilt only shows him its aggravation ; and he cries out, with the penitent prodigal, " Father, I have sinned against Heaven, and in thy sight, and am no more worthy to be called thy son." He has offended against knowledge and opportunity, and in spite of instruction and warning. He looks back to the early and innocent days, when, if his Savior had been on earth, he might have taken him to his arms, and said, " Of such is the kingdom of God. ' But, alas! how has he been changed! He has parted with that innocence, he has strayed from the kingdom of heaven, he has defiled and lost the image of his Maker. While he dwells on this thought of what he was, and what he might have become, and contrasts it with what he is, he is filled with remorse. He exaggerates to himself all his failings ; paints, in blacker colors than even the truth all his iniqui- ties ; counts himself the chief of sinners; and is almost ready to despair of mercy. When the mind is strongly agitated in this way, it is sur- prising how the characters of very different men become, as it were, equalized. Of niany individuals, differing in the most various ways as regards the number and nature, the magnitude and circumstances, of their offences, and most widely separated in the actual scale of demerit, each, at such 308 STATE OF MIND NECESSARY FOR THE INQUIRER. a season, regards himself as the most guilty of men. Some- times the liigh-wrought expressions, in which the victim of remorse vents the excruciating anguish of his mind, are accounted affectation and hypocrisy. But there can be no good reason to doubt that they are entirely sincere. The man honestly describes himself as he seems to himself at the time. He is, in his own eyes, the wretch he draws. And this is very easily explained. He sees, at one view, all his past sins, open and secret; his thoughtlessness, ingrati- tude, negligence, and omissions ; his depraved inclinations, evil desires, and cherished lusts ; which no one else knows, and which no one else could compare, as he can, with his privileges and obligations. All these he sets by the side, not of the hidden and private life of others, but of their decent public demeanor. He compares them, too, not with the standard of worldly, outward morality, but with the strict, searching, holy requisitions of the law of God. And in such a comparison, at such a moment, he cannot but re- gard himself as most unworthy and depraved. And we need not be too anxious at once to correct this feeling. The abasement is well ; for no one can feel guilt too strongly, or abhor sin too deeply. The time will come when he will learn to follow the direction of the apostle, and " think of himself soberly, as he ought to think." But at this first fair inspection of the deformities of his charac- ter, it is not to be expected that he should make his estimate with perfect sobriety. Only let every thing be done to guide, and soothe, and encourage him, and nothing to ex- asperate his self-condemnation, or drive him to insanity or despair. But such a state of mind as I have described, though not uncommon, and by many cherished as the most desirable and suitable at the commencement of the religious life, is STATE OF MIND NECESSARY FOR THE INQ0IRER. 3C9 by no means universal at that period, and cannot be regard- ed as essential. The experience of difTerent individuals in this respect greatly varies, and is much affected by temper and disposition, as well as by other circumstances. Many excellent Christians have never been subjected to those violent and torturing emotions, which have shaken and con- vulsed others. Tlieir cour.se has been placid and serene, though solemn and humble. They have felt their sin, and have mourned beneath it, and in deep humiliation have sought its forgiveness; but without any thing of terrified emotion or gloomy despondency. They have been gently won to truth by the mild invitations of parental love, with- out needing the fearful denunciations of punishment and wrath to awaken them. This difference among individuals is owing partly, as I said, to constitutional difference of tem- perament, which renders it impossible that the same repre- sentations should affect all alike; and partly to the differ- ent modes in which religion is presented to different minds; having first appeared to some in its harsher features, as to the Jews on Sinai, and to others in the milder form of a Savior's compassion. But, however this may be, and how- ever the humiliation of one may wear a different complex- ion from that of another, it is a state of mind sincere and heartfelt in all, to be studiously cherished, and to be made permanent in the character. In the beginning of the Christian life, this feeling assumes the form of anxiety, as it afterward leads to watchfulness. This word may, perhaps as well as any, describe the state of those for whom I am writing. They are aniiuus about themselves, about their characters, their condition, their prospects. They are anxious to know what they shall do to be saved, and to gain satisfactory assurance that they shall be pardoned and accepted of God. This is a most reason- 310 STATE OF MIND NECESSARY FOR THE INQUIRER, able solicitude. What can be more reasonable than such a solicitude for the greatest and most lasting good of man ? What more becoming a rational creature, whose eternal welfare is dependent on his own choice between good and evil, than this desire to know and pursue the right? this earnest thoughtful ness respecting his condition? and this inquiry for the true end of his being ? If a person, hith- erto thoughtless, is in this state of mind, he is to be con- gratulated upon it. We are to be thankful to God in his behalf, that another immortal soul is awake to its responsi- bility, and seeking real happiness. We would urge him to cherish the feelings which possess him; not with melan- choly despondency ; not with superstitious gloom ; not with unmanly and unmeaning debasement; but with thoughtful, self-distrusting concern, with deliberate study for the path of dirty, and a resolute purpose not to swerve from it. Remember that much depends, I might say every thinor depends, on the use you make of this your present disposi- tion. Be faithful to it, obey its promptings, let it form in you the habit of devout reflection and religious action, and all must be well. The issue will be the Christian character, and the soul's salvation. But refuse to cherish this disposi- tion, drive it from you, smother and ^ilence it, and you will probably do yourself an everlasting injury. It is like put- ting out a fire which has just been lighted, and which n)ny with difficulty be kindled again. It is trifling with the sen- sibility of conscience, it is bringing hardness upon your heart ; and there is less prospect that you will afterward arrive at an habitual and controlling regard for your reli- gious interests. This it is to " quench the Spirit." Be sensible, therefore, that this is a critical moment in the history of your character ; that it is in many respects tl-.o decisive point at which your destiny is to be determined. STATE OF MIND NECESSARY FOR THE INQUIHER. 311 For now it is, in all probability, that the bias of your mind is to be determined for good or evil. Be sensible, then, how necessary it is that you keep alive, and cultivate by all possible means, this tenderness of heart. Avoid every pur- suit, engagement, and company, which you find to be inconsistent with it, or unfavorable to it, or tending to de- stroy it. Scenes at other times innocent should now be shunned, if they operate to turn the current of your affec- tions ; for you are engaging in a great work, the giving your heart a permanent bias toward God, and it ought not to be interrupted. While this is doing, you can well afford to withdraw from many scenes you might otherwise fre- quent ; and, indeed, you can ill afford the risk of exposing yourself to their influence. It may be well to observe another caution. Say nothing of your thoughts and feelings to any, but one or two confi- dential friends. Many a religious character has been spoiled in the forming, by too much talk with too many persons. The best religious character is formed in retire- ment, by much silent reflection, and private re.ading and prayer. What the soul needs above all things, is to com- mune with itself and with God ; then it is established, strengthened, settled. But if a man go out from his closet, and seek for instruction and guidance by talking with all who will talk with him, he fritters away his feelings; his frame becomes less deeply and essentially spiritual ; words take the place of sentiment ; and ho is very likely to become a talkative, fluent, superficial religionist, with much shaw of sound doctrine, and a goodly readiness of sound speech, but without substantial principle. Shun, therefore, rather than seek, much communication with many person.s. But some counsel and encouragement you may need. Apply, therefore, to your minister. He is your legitimate and true 312 STATE OF MIND NECESSARY FOR THE INQUIRER. counsellor, and he will be glad, in friendly and confidentid intercourse, to lead you on. You may have also some pious friend, to whom, possibly, you may unbosom yourself more freely than you have courage to do to your minister ; and he may, in some particulars, give you aid, which the situa- tion of the pastor may put it out of his power to afford. In this manner, feel your way along quietly, silently, steadily. Let the growth within you be like that of the grain of wheat, which germinates in secret, and springs up without observation, and attracts little notice of men, till it shows " the ear and the full corn in the ear." Be anxious to establish yourself firmly in the power of godliness, before you exhibit its form. In connection with this, it may be well to add a caution on a kindred point. Do not spend too much time in public meetings. You will, of course, be desirous to hear the preaching of the gospel. You feel as if you could not hear it too often or too much. You wonder that preaching should never before have seemed so interesting. You listen with unstopped ears ; and prayers, hymns, and sermons, fall upon your spirit as if you had been gifted with a new sense. It is well that it is so. By all means cherish this ardent interest in public worship. But do not indulge it to excess. Let your moderation be seen in giving to this its proper place and importance in your time and regard. It is not the only religious enjoyment or means of improvement in your power ; and it may possibly be mere self-indulgence which carries one from meeting to meeting. Remember that no duty towards others is to be neglected in the search for j)ersonal improvement : this would be sin. And it is at times a higher duty to attend to your family, to be with your friends, to instruct your children, to consult the feelings and yield to the prejudices of a husbund or wife, a parent, STATE OF MIND NECESSARY FOR THE INQUIRER. 313 brother, or sister, tliaii it is to pursue your own single ad- vantage, it may be your own gratification, by going out to social worship. And if it be your object to please God or discipline your own spirit, you will better eflfect that object by this exercise of self-doiial, than by doing what would give uneasiness to others, and perhaps even alienate them from you, and render them hostile to religion itself. The advice of the apostle to wives is in force on this point, and is equally applicable to the other social relations : " Ye wives, be in subjection to your own husbands ; that if any obey not the word, they may, without the word, be won by the conversation of the wives ; while they behold your chaste conversation coupled with fear." Be warned, therefore, against this error. And what are you to lose by the course which I recommend? Believe nie, however much may be gained by the sympathy and e.xcitement of a public assembly, quite as much is gained by the sacrifice of your inclinations to duty and to the feel- ings of others, and by the silent, unwitnessed exercises of retirement, which no one can torbid you. Look not at the present moment, but at the end. Your desire is to form a genuine, solid, thorough, permanent character of devotion. Well ; try to form it wholly in the e.xcitement, and beneath the external inlluence, of public meetings, and it will be such a character as can exist only in such scenes. Your ])icty will always need the presence and voice of men to keep it alive, and, unstistained by them, will sink away and die. This, at least, is the danger to be apprehended ; and experi- ence declares that it is no slight one. But form your char- acter in private, build it up by the action of your own mind, under the direction of the Bible, and by intercourse with the Father of spirits, — and then it will always be independ- ent of other men and of outward circumstances. It will be 314 MEANS OF RELIGIOUS IMPROVEMEMT. self-sustained on a foundation which man and earth cannot shake, alike powerful in the solitude and in the crowd, and immovable in steadfastness, though all other men prove false, and faith have fled all other bosoms. It is such a piety that belongs to the Christian ; it is such that you are to seek ; and you may well be apprehensive of failure, if you neglect this salutary caution. CHAPTER IV. THE MEANS OF RELIGIOUS IMPROVEMENT. The means to be used in order to render permanent your religious impressions, and promote the growth of your char- acter, are now to be considered. They may be arranged under the following heads: — Reading, Meditation, Prayer, Hearing the Word preached, and the Lord's Supper. I. Reading. I begin with the more private means ; and I speak of reading first, because it is in the perusal of the Scriptures that the beginning of religious knowledge is to be found. It is they which testify of Christ, and have the words of eternal life. It is they which make wise unto salvation. And it is through a devout acquaintance with them, that the mind and heart grow in the knowledge and love of God, and that the dispositions are formed which prepare for heaven. Every one may read the Bible; and, such is its plainness and sim- ])licity in all matters pertaining to life and godliness, that if he be able to read nothing else, he may yet learn all that is READING. 315 essential to duty and acceptance. Hence it has happened, tliat many, to whom circumstances have interdicted all gen- oral ac(iuaintance with books, have gathered, from their solitary study of the Bible alone, a wisdom which has expanded and elevated their minds, and a peace which has raised them above the darkness and trials of an unhappy worldly lot. There are those whose condition in life is such that they have very little time or means to devote to books; and it were vain to recommend to them that they should seek in- struction beyond the sacred pages, and the simplest ele- mentary works of devotion. While, therefore, it is the undoubted duty of every one to make the utmost possible ]irogress in religious knowledge, no one is to be condemned for that omission of study and ignorance of books which are rendered unavoidable by circumstances. We must make a distinction, it has been truly said, between that which is the duty of all, and may be done by all, — that is, a careful and devout perusal of the Scriptures, — and that which is the duty, because within the ability, only of a more limited number, — the study of other sources of knowledge and virtue. These every one must pursue in proportion to his leisure and means. The class of those who have the leisure and means is large and numerous ; it is to be wished that thoy were more alive to their obligation to improve themselves accordinglv. I know not how it happens that serious and devout persons are so content to be ignorant on those great topics which they truly feel to transcend all others in importance. It certainly deserves their consideration, whether this inditTer- cnce be either creditable or right. Capacity and opportu- nity form the measure of duty; and if they have received the power and means of cultivating their minds and adding 316 BIEANS OF RELIGIOUS I3IPR0VEMENT. to their treasures of truth and thought, they should regard it as an intimation that this is required of them. They should not esteem it enough to be sincere and consci- entious ; they should desire to be well-informed : well- informed respecting the interpretation of the more difficult and curious portions of holy writ, respecting the history and transmission of the records of their faith, the fortunes of the church in successive ages, the effects of their religion and of other religions on the world, the past and present state of religious opinions, the past and present operations of Christian benevolence, the means of doing good, and the lives, labors, and speculations of the eminent professors of their faith. Now, all this is to be known only through books; and in order to attain it, a judicious selection of books, and an appropriation of certain seasons for reading, are primarily requisite. The bare importance and interest of these subjects ought to be a sufficient inducement to the adoption of this course. There are many other considerations which render it wortliy of attention. The preaching of divine truth be- comes far more profitable to those who have prepared them- selves for it by the information thus acquired. Words are used in the pulpit, modes of speech occur, allusions are made, and facts and reasonings referred to, which presup- pose an acquaintance with certain subjects, and which are entirely lost to those who never read. The better a hearer is furnished with preliminary knowledge, the greater pleas- ure will he derive from the pulpit; because the better will he understand and appreciate the sentiments expressed. At present, such is the uninformed character of a large portion of ordiliary congregations, that a minister is compelled to pass by many modes of illustration, and many representa- tions of truth and duty, because they would be, to a great REAPING. 317 majority unintelligible, and therefore unprofitable. Instead of going on to perfection in the proclamation of higher and wider views, he is compelled, as the apostle complained in a similar case, to contine himself " to the first principles of the oracles of God." Some teachers, unwilling or unable thus to adapt themselves to the actual stature of their hearers' minds, pursue their own modes of thought and expression, without regard to their audience; and, while they gratify a few reading and thinking men, leave the mass of the people uninstructed and unaffected. Herein is a sad error. But if the preacher must adapt himself to the hear- ers, the hearers ought to prepare themselves for the preach- ing. This is to be done by greater familiarity with reli- gious books. They would then be ready for higher and more extensive themes, and for a wider scope of illustra- tion, while the preacher would cease to feel himself fettered. At I resent, warmed and filled, as his mind must often be, by large contemplation and exalted study, he sometimes un- consciously speaks that which is an unknown tongue to the unlettered man, though delightful and wholesome to him whose habits of reading have prepared him to receive it. Further still. It might do for mere men of the world, who professedly seek only worldly good, and hold of little worth the goods of the mind, — it might do for them to neg- lect books and thinking, and spend all their precious leisure in idle recreations. They are living for the body. But it is the distinction of the Christian, that he lives for the soul, for his intellectual and moral nature, for that part of him which is noblest now, and which alone shall live forever. He has passed out of the animal into the spiritual life. It is not for him to omit or neglect any suitable means of in- tellectual or moral cultivation. He is guilty of criminal inconsistency, he is a traitor to his own mind, if he refuse 27* 318 MEANS OF RELIGIOUS IMPROVEMENT. to nourish it, systematically, with knowledge and truth. To keep it inactive and ignorant, is to keep it degraded. Jesus lived and died for it, that it might attain the truth, and that the truth might make \ifree. But what is the freedom of the mind bound in the fetters of ignorance ? Freedom and elevation can come to it only through knowl- edge, and one chief fountain of knowledge is books. These inform and excite it, and furnish food for thought. Thought is exercise; it is to the mind what motion is to the body. Without it, there is neither health nor strength. And when God has graciously ordered that your lot should be cast umid the abundance of books, where you need only put forth your hand and be supplied; when he thus makes easy to you that intellectual and moral attainment which is the soul's dignity and happiness ; I see not how you can answer it to your conscience, if you do not sacredly devote to this object a certain portion of your leisure. In regard to the quantity of time to be thus employed, no uniform rule can be given. Men vary so much in occupa- tion, opportunity, and leisure, that, while one may easily command hours, another can with difficulty secure minutes. On this point every one must be left to the decision of his own conscience. Inquire of that, impartially and seriously, and then determine how large a portion of time you can daily give to this great object. I believe it may be laid down as certain, that most persons may afford to it a great deal more than they imagine. Some make no effort to do any thing, because tliey can effect so little that they account it not worth the effort. But they should remember that duty does not consist in doing great things, but in doing what we can; and that, if they would redeem from the hurry of business and the relaxation of slee[i one quarter of an hour a day, it would be a more praiseworthy offering than READING. 319 the many hours which are given by others. Even five minutes a day would be worth something, would be invalu- able to one who was earnestly bent on using it. It would amount in a year to about thirty hours ; and who will say that it is not better to improve the mind for thirty hours than not at all ? But I am persuaded that there is scarcely any one, however engrossed in necessary cares, who may not find much more time than this — who may not find an hour a day. By greater care of the minutes which he wastes, by abridging a little from his meals, a little from his pleasures, and a little from his sleep, it would be easily ac- complished. If one be in earnest, as he should be, if he seek for wisdom as for gold, and for understanding as for hid treasure, it will be no impossible thing to find the re- ipiisite time. Few men but could readily gain an hour a day, if they were to gain by it a dollar a day. Indeed, it is often seen, in actual life, that a person to whom religion has become an object of deep concern, contrives to devote to his books more time than this, though before he would have thought it impossible. Nothing is wanting but the " willing mind." If one feel the necessity, every thing else will give way. Rather than remain ignorant and without progress in the truth, he will cheerfully watch an hour later at night, and rise an hour earlier in the morning. The gain to the mind will more than balance the inconvenience to the body. You may regard it, then, as some proof of the sincerity and earnestness of your desire for improvement, if you find yourself able to appropriate a certain portion of time to profitable reading. It is important that you select for this purpose those hours which shall be least liable to interrup- tion, and that you allow nothing to infringe upon them. 320 MEANS OF RELIGIOUS IMPROVEMENT. Keep this as holy time. Be punctual and faithful to it, as the banker to his hours of business. There are seasons in every one's vocation, at which his business is less pressing than at others ; and there are also seasons of leisure, which he feels at liberty to take for rec- reation and amusement. As you will have lost all taste for frivolous amusement and unprofitable pleasures, you will be able to devote all such seasons to the improvement of your mind ; and, instead of the theatre and the ball-room, from which you would have returned fatigued in body and dis- tracted in mind, and to some extent unfitted for duty, you will enjoy the converse of the great minds which have blessed the world, and, after filling your soul with their thoughts, will go back to your ordinary duty with a spirit refreshed and invigorated, and a body unwearied. During the season of long evenings, especially when so many are hurryino- from diversion to diversion, as if this long leisure were provided them only that they may contrive how in- geniously they can throw it away, — you will perceive that you have a most favorable opportunity for pursuing exten- sive researches, and making large acquisitions of knowl- edge. Evening after evening, in your own quiet retirement, you will sit down to this instructive application. By this diligence wliat progress may you make ! what volumes may you master ! to what extent may you penetrate the secrets of science, acquire a knowledge of history and of letters, and become enriched with those great and various treasures of intellect, which are subservient to the growth of the mind and the glory of God ! You will thus be using time for the jHirpose for which it was given, — the ripening and perfecting (;f your immortal mind; and at all intervals of release from duty to others, will make it your happiness to be thus performing a great duty to yourself READING. 321 In your selection of books, the Bible will, of course, hold the first j)i:ice. This is to be read daily, and to be your fa- vorite book. Remember, however, that it may be perused in such a manner that it were better never to liave opened it. If studied inattentively, for form's sake, or only for the purpose of gathering arguments to support your opinions, it is read irreligiously, and therefore unprofitably. You must habitually regard it as uttering instructions with a voice of authority, of which you are earnestly to seek the true mean- ing, and then submissively to obey them. You must never forget that your hopes of right instruction are suspended on the simplicity and fidelity with which you receive those holy words ; and as they were written expressly to make you wise unto salvation, no inferior purpose must distract your attention from this. You will, therefore, always have in view two objects — to understand the book, and to apply it to your own heart and character. The study of the Bible, for the purpose of understanding it, is an arduous labor. Dr. Johnson said of the New Testa- ment, " It is the most difiicult book in the world, for which the 'abor of a life is required." No book requires greater and more various aid. Its thorough interpretation is a science by itself; and you must ask of those, in whose judgment you confide, to point out the requisite helps for this interesting investigation ; to enable you to reach the pure text, and arrive at the meaning of every passage as it lay in the mind of the writer. Recollect that a passage standing by itself may bear a very good meaning, which yet was not the meaning designed; and make it a sacred rule, not to receive or quote it in any other sense than that which belongs to it in its original place. The neglect of this rule has occasioned much misinterpretation and misapplication 322 MEANS OF RELIGIOUS IMPROVEMENT, of Scripture; and some passages have come to be familiarly understood and cited in senses altogether foreign from their proper import. This is a perversion ; and it is an immense evil to have wrong ideas thus fastened upon the language of the sacred writers. And be not afraid of examining the text scrupulously, and employing the utmost energy of your mind in discover- ing and determining its true sense. It is a duty to do this. You can decide between opposing and possible interpreta- tions only by applying your own mind to judge between them ; and the more keenly, impartially, and fearlessly, you proceed, the greater the probability that your decision will be correct. On this point some persons greatly err. They seize on the first meaning which presents itself to their minds, or has been presented by another, and resolutely abide by it ; they refuse to investigate further, lest they should be guilty of irreverently trying the divine word by their own fallible reason. Indulge no such weakness as this. Never, indeed, be guilty for a moment of the insane folly and sin of disputing the a#ithority of revelation, or set- ting up your reason as a superior light and safer guide. But in deciding upon the meaning of Scripture, you cannot use your intellectual powers too much or too acutely. Use them constantly, coolly, impartially, with the best aid you can obtain from human authors, and then you may rest sat- isfied that you have done your duty, — have done all which you could do toward learning the truth ; and if you have accompanied it with prayer for a blessing from the Source of truth and wisdom, you cannot have failed, in any essential point, to ascertain the will of God. But there is another object, — the application of Scrip- ture to the forming of the heart and character. This is a higher object than the other, and may be effected in cases. READING. 323 where very little of rigid scrutiny can be made into the dark places of the divine word. Blessed be God, it is not necessary, in order to salvation, that one should comprehend all the things liard to be understood, or be able to follow out the train of reasoning in every epistle, and restore the text in every corruption. Do all this as much as you can. But when you reujcl, as it were for your life ; when you take the Bible to your closet, to be the help and the solitary wit- ness of your prayers ; when you take it up as a lamp which you are to hold to your heart, for the purpose of searching into its true state, that you may ])urify and perfect it; — then put from your mind all thoughts of differing interpretations and various readings, and the perplexities of criticism and translation. You have only to do with what is spiritual and practical. You are no more a scholar, seeking for intellect- ual guid;ujce, but a sinful and accountable creature, asking for help in duty, and deliverance' from an evil world and an evil heart. Read, tlierefore, as if on your knees. Make your heart feel and respond to every sentiment. Apply to yourself with rigor every precept and warning ; and according to the character of the passage, let your mind glow with fervor, and be uplifted in holy adoration and devout gratitude, or be thrilled and humbled by the repre- sentations of infinite purity and justice, or melted and borne away by the tones of tender love and long-sullcring grace. Suffer yourself to read nothing coldly, when you read for spiritual improvement. You might as lawfully pray coldly. Therefore let your reading be like your prayers, — done with all your heart. And be sensible that it is better to go over one short passage many times, till you fully grasp its sentiment, and grow warm with it, than to run over hastily and unfeelingly many chapters. You are not to suppose, fr'T. incorporating it with our own minds. We cannot even retain it in our memories, much less can we be fully sensible of its power and worth, except through the habit of reflect- ing upon it. We cannot have it ready at connnand, so as to defend it when assailed, or state it when inquired after, or apply it in the emergencies of life, unless it be familiar to us by habitual meditation ; so that even reading loses its value if unaccompanied by reflection. The obligations and motives of duty, the promises, hopes, and prospects of the Christian, the great interests and permanent realities by which he is to be actuated, are not visibly and tangibly present to him, like the scenes of his passing life ; and they must be made spiritually present by deliberate meditation, if he would be guided and swayed by them. Indeed, with- out this, he must be without consideration or devotion, igno- rant of the actual state of his character, and in constant danger of falling a sacrifice to the unfriendly influences of the world. In attempting, therefore, the acquisition of a religious character, it is important that you maintain an habitual thoughtfulness of mind. It has been said, and with perfect truth, that no man pursues any great interest of any kind, in which important consequences are at stake, without a pro- found and settled seriousness of mind ; and that a man of really frivolous disposition never accomplishes any thing val- uable. How especially true must this be, in regard to the great interests of religion and eternity ! How can you hope to make progress in that perplexing and difficult work, the establishment of a religious character, the attainment of the great Christian accomplishments, without a fi.xed and habit- ual thoughtfulness ? — a thoughtfulness which never forgets the vastness and responsibility of the work assigned to man, nor loses the consciousness of a relation to more glorious MEDITATION'. 329 beings than are found upon the earth. This must be your habit — something more than an occasional musing and reverie, at set times, when you shall force yourself to the task. It must be the uniform condition of your mind ; as much so as solicitude to the merchant, who has great treas- ures exposed to "the uncertainties of the ocean and the foe ; a solicitude, in your case, not gloomy, or unsocial, or mo- rose, but thoughtful ; so that nothing shall be done incon- siderately, or without adverting to the bearing it may have on your character and final prospects. Then, besides this general state of mind, there must be, as I have said, allotted periods of express meditation. As the precept respecting devotion is, " Pray without ceasing," and yet set times of prayer are necessary, so, also, while we say, *• Be always thoughtful," we must add, that particular sea- sons are necessary on purpose for meditation. You must set apart certain times for reflection, when you shall delib- erately sit down and survey with keen scrutiny yourself, your condition, your past life, and the prospect before you ; inquire into the state of your religious knowledge and per- sonal attainments ; and strengthen your sense of responsi- bility and purposes of duty, by dwelling on the attributes and government of God, the ways of his providence, the revelations of his Word, the requisitions of his will, the glory of his kingdom, and all the alfecting truths and prom- ises which the gospel displays. These are to be subjects of distinct and profound consideration, till your mind becom.es imbued with tliem, and until, filled and inspired by the spirit- ual contemplation, you are in a manner " changed into the same image as by the Spirit of the Lord." The proper sea- son for this is the season of your daily devotion ; when, hav- ing shutout the world, and sought the nearer presence of God, your mind is prepared to work fervently. Then, con- 330 MEANS OF KELIGIOUS IMPROVEMENT. templation, aided by prayer, ascends to heights which il could never reach alone ; and sometimes, whether in the body or out of the body it can hardly tell, soars, as it were, to the third heaven, and enjoys a revelation to which, at other hours, it is a stranger. This, however, is an excitement of mind -which is rarely to be expected. Those seasons are " few as angels' visits," which lift the spirit to any thing like ecstasy. They are glimpses of heaven, which the soul, in its present taber- nacle, can seldom catch, only frequently enough to afford a brief foretaste of that bliss to which it shall hereafter arrive. Its ordinary musings are less ethereal ; happy, undoubtedly, though oftentimes clouded by feelings of sadness and doubt, and by a sense of unworthiness and sin. But, however mixed they may be, they are always salutary. If sad and disheartening, they lead to more vigilant self-examination, that we may discover their cause, and thus rekindle the watchlight that is so essential to right progress. If serene and joyous, they are a present earnest of the peace which is assured to the righteous, and the joy of heart which is one of the genuine fruits of the Spirit. Be not, therefore, troubled or cast down, (indeed, never be cast down, so long as you can say to your soul. Trust in God ;) be not, I say, dis- quieted or cast down, because of the inequalities of feeling with which you enter and leave your closet, and the changes from brightness to gloom, from clearness to obscurity, which often pass over your mind. This, alas ! is the inheritance of our frail nature. An equal vigor of thought, clearness of apprehension, force of imagination, fervor of devotion, always perceiving, feeling, adoring, with the same vividness and satisfaction, are to be our portion in the world of spirits. Here we see idl things, " as in a glass, darkly; " there we shall see " face to face." Here the truths we rejoice in are MEDITATION. 331 too often like tiie images of absent friends, which we strive in vain to bring brightly before the eye of our minds ; they are shadowy, indistinct, and fleeting. Cut there they will be like our friends themselves, always present in their own full form and beauty, to dwell in the mind unfadingly, and constitute its bliss. Be satisfied, tlien, if you sometimes arrive, in your meditations, at that glow of elevated enjoy- ment which you desire. What you are rather to seek for, is, a calm and composed state of the affections, an equanim- ity of spirit, a serenity of temper — like the quiet which an affectionate child experiences in the circle of its parents and brothers, where it is not excited to ecstasy by the thought of its father's goodness, but lives beneath it in a state of equal and affectionate trust. Like this should be the habitual experience of the Christian ; and if it be thus with you, let not occasional dulness or darkness, coming over your spirit in its religious hours, dishearten or dis- tress you. This I say, because many persons of truly devout habits have unquestionably suffered much from this cause. In the natural fluctuations of the animal spirits, or the nervous system, or the bodily health, they sometimes find themselves cold at heart, and seemingly insensible to religious consid- erations. It seems to them that their hearts have waxed gross, that their eyes are closed, and their ears become dull of hearing. In vain do they read and think ; they cannot arouse themselves to any thing like a " realizing sense " of these great objects ; but regard with a stupid unconcern what at other times has been the source of their chief en- joyment. But let the humble and timid believer be of good cheer. This is not always a sign of guilt, or of desertion by God. It may be traced to the original and unavoidable imperfection of hunian nature; it is to be lamented as such, 332 MEANS OF RELIGIOUS IMPROVEMENT. but not to be repented of as sin ; and one may not expect to be relieved from it, till the soul is freed from the body. Let him watch the course of his mind, and he will find the same inequality of feeling to exist upon other subjects. lie does not at all times take an equal interest in his ordinary concerns, nor does he at all times feel the highest warmth of affection toward his parent, friend, or child. Let him observe others, and he will discover the same variations in them. They will confess it to be so. The oldest and most established Christians will describe themselves to have passed their whole pilgrimage in this state of fluctuation. Read the private journals of distinguished believers, and you find in them frequent complaints of lukewarmness, indifference, and deadness of heart. They mourn over it, they bewail it, they strive against it, and yet it adheres to them as long as they live. It is not, therefore, your peculiar sin, but a common infirmity. Regard it in this light; and do not let it destroy your peace of mind, or lead you to overlook the rational evidence that your heart is right with God. But, also, on the other hand, — for the Christian's path is hedged in with dangers on every side, and in trying to es- cape from one it is easy to rush into another, — take heed that you do not unwarrantably apply this consolation, and make this excuse to yourself in cases in which you really deserve blame. Do not let this apology, which is designed only for the comfort of the humble and watchful, bo used by you as a cover for negligence and sinful self-confidence. Remember that your unsatisfactory state of religious sensi- bility may be possibly your fault; and you are not to pre- sume that it is otlierwisc, until you have faithfully soarchcd and tried. Have you not, for a time, been unreasonably de- voted to amusement, or -engrossed by unnecessary cares, so MEDITATION. 333 as to have neglected the watching of your heart ? Have you not for a season been thoiii^htless, light-iiiiiuled, frivo- lous, and careless of that devout reference to God, by which you should always be actuated? Have you not engaged in some questionable undertaking, or allowed yourself in sloth or self-indulgence, or cherished ill feelings toward others, or permitted your temper to be kept irritated by some unim- portant vexations, or let your imagination run loose among forbidden desires? Ask yourself such questions; and per- haps in the nature of your recent occupations you may detect the cause of your present listlessncss. If so, change the general turn of your life. In the words of Cowper's hymn, it is only *' a closer walk with God," which can bring back " the blessedness you once enjoyed." Now, your heart is desolate and unsatisfied ; you find in it " an aching void, which God alone can fill ; " and it is only by renewing your acquaintance with him, that you can renew your peace. But, after all, remember that you are to judge of the real worth of these seasons, not by your enjoyment of them as they pass, not by the luxury or rapture of your contempla- tion, but by their effect upon your character and principles, by the religious power you gain from them toward meeting the duties and sufferings, the joys and sorrows, the tempta- tions, trials, and conflicts of actual life. Meditation is a means of religion; not to be rested in as a final good, nor allowed to satisfy us, except so far as it imparts to the char- acter a permanent impress of seriousness and dutv, and strengthens the principles of faith and self-government. If it add daily vigor to your resolutions, and secure order to your thoughts, seretjity to your temper, and uprightness to your life, then it has fidfilled its legitimate purpose. If, on the other hand, it end in the reverie of the hour, then, how- ever fervent and exalted, it is, comparatively speaking, 334 MEANS OF RELIGIOUS IMPROVEMENT, worthless to yourself and unacceptable to God. Its perma- nent influence on the character is the true test of its value. It is easy to see, therefore, that there are three purposes which you have in view — the cultivation of a religious spirit, the scrutiny of your life and character, the renewing of your good purposes. By the first of these, you are to insure the predominance of a spiritual frame of mind, a perpetual, paramount inter- est in divine truth, and its incorporation with the frame and constitution of your soul ; so that you shall be continually enlarging your apprehensions concerning God, his provi-' dence, and his purposes, and shall at the same time make them part of the very substance of your intellectual consti- tution, the pervading and actuating motives of all your life. By this means religion becomes to the Christian what the spirit of his profession is to the soldier, — the one present thought, motive, and impulse, absorbing all others, and ur- ging him to his one great object by its mastery over all other thoughts, principles, and affections. The other two pur- poses of meditation which I mentioned may be described as the surveying and burnishing of the warrior's arms, in prep- aration for the summons to actual combat ; or as the act of the mariner in mid ocean, who every day lifts his instruments to the light of heaven, and consults his charts and his books, that he may learn where he is, and what has been his prog- ress, and whether any change must be made in his course in order to his reaching the intended haven. The warrior who should allow his arms to rust for want of a little daily care, and the mariner who should be shipwrecked from neglect of taking seasonable observations, are emblems of the folly of the man who presses on through life, without ever paus- ing to scrutinize the principles on which he acts, and rectify the errors he has committed. MEDITATION. 335 This self examination must be universal ; embracing alike the conduct of your external life and tlie habitual tenor of your mind. You must surve)^ the train of your thoughts, the temper you have sustained, your deportment toward others, your conversation, your employment, the use of your time and of your wealth ; you must consider by what sort of motives you are prevailingly guided, what is the probable effect of your example, and wliether you are doing all the good which might be reasonably expected of you ; you must compare yourself with the example of Jesus Christ, and measure your life by the laws of holy living prescribed in his gospel. And in order that these and other topics may all have their place in the survey, it may not be amiss to keep them by you on a written list. Cotton Mather adopt- ed and recommended the practice of assigning to such in- quiries each its particular day of the week; so that every day might have its own topic of reflection, and every topic its due share of attention. Others may find this a useful suggestion. A renewal of your resolutions is to follow this inquiry. Knowing where you are and what you need, you are to ar- range your purposes accordingly. It is a sad error of some to fancy that seeing and acknowledging their fiults is all which is required of them. They sit down and bewail them, and in weeping and sorrow waste that energy of mind which should have been exerted in amendment. But it is surely far better, with manly readiness, to rise and act with- out a tear, than to shed torrents of bitter water, and still go on as before. Regret and remorse naturally express them- selves in weeping; but repentance shows itself in action. It may begin in sorrow, but it ends in reformation. And you have little reason to be satisfied with your reflections and your penitence, if they do not issue in prompt and resolute action. 336 MEANS OF RELIGIOUS IMPROVEMENT. III. Prayer. As there is no duty more frequently enjoined in the New Testament by our Savior and the apostles, so there is none which is a more indispensable and efficacious means of religious improvement than prayer ; for which reasons it demands particular attention. The practice of devotion is a sign of spiritual life, and a means of preserving it. No one prays heartily without some deep religious sentiment to actuate him. This senti- ment may be but occasionally felt ; it may be transient in duration ; but the exercise of it in acts of devotion tends to render it habitual and permanent, and its frequent exercise causes the mind at length to exist always in a devout pos- ture. He who truly prays, feels, during the act, a sense of God's presence, authority, and love ; of his own obligations and unworthiness ; of his need of being better. He feels grateful, humble, resigned, anxious for improvement. He who prays often, often has these feelings, and, by frequent repetition, they become customary and constant. And thus prayer operates as an active, steady, powerful means of Christian progress. Indeed, nothing effectual is to be done without it. That it is a chief duty, even natural reason would persuade us. That it is a condition on which divine blessings are be- stowed, Christianity assures us. That it is a high gratifica- tion and enjoyment, every one knows who has rightly en- gaged in it. And that it is of all means of moral re- straint and spiritual advancement the most effective, no one can doubt, \vho understands how powerfully it stirs and agitates the strongest and most active principles of man, and how complete is the dominion which those principles have over his character and conduct. All this is clear and suffi- cient, without adding the assurance of the Savior, that it is PKAYEII. 337 effectual to draw down .spiritual aid from Heaven. Add this, and the subject is complete. It is, both naturally and by appointment, a chief duty qf man; from the nature of the soul and the intercourse it opens with God, it is the first enjoyment ; and through its own intrinsic power and the promise of Jesus, it is the most effectual instrument of moral and spiritual culture. Perhaps you have been accustomed to the performance of this duty from your childhood. You were early taught to repeat your prayers, marning and evening. Pains were taken to make you understand the nature of the duty, and to give you right impressions in performing it. Perhaps you have retained these impressions, and have continued to this time the practice of sincere devotion. On the other hand, you may have lost those impressions, and become neglectful of the duty. Or perhaps you are so unhappy as never to have received instruction on this head. You have passed through childliood without the practice, and without the sentiment whicli should uispire it; and now, when awakened to a sense of your responsibility, you find yourself a stran- ger to the mercy-seat. But, however the case may be, the sense of your religious wants now urges you to devotion ; and you are anxious to make that acquaintance with God, which alone can secure you peace. How to perform the duty, how to gain the satisfaction, how to reap the advan- tage, are points upon which you are anxious to obtain di- rection. First of all, let me urge upon you the importance of a plan, and of customary seasons for your devotions. Have your settled appointments of time and place, and let nothing interfere with them. Many would persuade you that this is too formal ; that you should be left more at li'bertv ; that, as you are to pray always, it is quite needless to "assign any 338 MEANS OF RELIGIOUS IMPROVEMENT, special season for the duty. And one may conceive of a person having arrived at so high a measure of spiritual at- tainment, that his thoughts should be a perpetual worship, and retirement to his closet would bring his mind no nearer to God. But such is, at best, an infrequent case ; at any rate, it is not yours : you are a beginner ; it can never be yours, except you use the requisite means of arriving at it ; and certainly among the surest means is the custom of set- ting apart stated seasons for devotion. So that the very reason assigned for neglecting becomes a strong reason for observing them. You must feed the soul as you do the body, furnishing it with suitable nourishment at suitable in- tervals. You must keep its armor bright and serviceable, as does the soldier in human warfare, who examines and restores it at a certain hour daily. If it were left to be done at any convenient season, a thousand trifling engage- ments might cause the work to be deferred again and again, till irretrievable injury should accrue. You have too many other engagements and enticements daily and hourly occur- ring, to make it safe for you to leave this to accidental con- venience or inclination. In order to secure its perform- ance, you must put it on the list of your daily indispensable engagements ; and, as it is part of your routine at certain hours to breakfast and dine, and at certain hours to attend to the concerns of your household and profession, so also must it be to retire at certain hours for religious worship. The wisdom and experience of all the religious world insist on this ; and it would not be necessary to state it so ur- gently, if it did not seem to be a notion growing into favor with some, that, as the spirit, and not the form, is the essen- tial thincr, it is better not to be burdened with methods and rules, but simply to pray always ; which, there is reason to fear, would in practice be found a precept to pray never. PRAYER. 3J59 Assign to yourself, therefore, some convenient hour, when you shall be secure from interruption, and not hurried by the call of other business. If 'you are much engaged in active affairs, you may, perhaps, be unable to secure this, unless you rise for the [»urpose in tiie morning, and sit up for it at night. This, then, you must do. Deprive yourself of a few moments' sleep, morning and evening. And I may ask liere, whether the multitude of persons who e.xcuse their inattention to religious exercises by their want of time, do not thereby expose themselves to a suspicion of insincerity. For, if they were truly in earnest, it would be a very little thing to retire to their chambers fifteen minutes earlier, and to rise from their beds fifteen minutes sooner. If they were aware of the magnitude of the gain, the sacrifice would seem insignificant. Nay, they might even perform the duty upon their beds ; there would be no want of time then. And some, who, from the misfortune of poverty, have no place to which they can retire, being compelled to live at every moment in the company of others, should learn to feel that the bed is their closet ; that, when lying there, they can " pray to the Father who seeth in secret;" and that they need make no complaint of want of opportunity, so lono- as they may follow the Psalmist, who said, " I remember thee on my bed, and meditate on thee in the night-watches." Having, then, your stated times, if you would make them in the highest measure profitable, observe the followincr rules: First of all, when the hour has arrived, seek to ex- cite in your mind a sense of the divine presence, and of the greatness of the act in which you are engagincr. Summon up the whole energy of your mind. Put all your powers upon the .'Jtretch. Do not allow yourself to utter a word, to use an expression, thoughtlessly, nor without setting before yourself, in a distinct form, its full meaning. Remember 340 MEANS OF RELIGIOUS IMPROVEMENT, the words of Ecclesiasticus : " When you glorify the Lord, exalt him as much as you can ; ft)r even yet will he far ex- ceed ; and when you exalt him, put forth all your strength, and be not weary ; for you can never go far enough." Pour your whole soul, the utmost intensity of your feelings, into your words. One sentence uttered thus is better than the cold repetition of an entire liturgy. For this reason, let your prayer be preceded by meditation. In this way make an earnest effort after a devout temper. While you thus muse, the fire of your devotion will kindle, and then you may " speak with your tongue ; " then you may breathe out the adoring sentiments of praise and thanksgiving, the holy aspirations after excellence and grace, the humble con- fessions of your contrite spirit, the glowing emotions of Christian faith. As you proceed, you will probably find yourself increasing in warmth and energy ; especially if you give way to the impulse of your feelings, and do not check them by watching them too closely. To do this chills the current of devotion, and changes your prayer from the simple expression of desire and affection into an exercise of mental philosophy. Wherefore, having warmed your mind, give it free way, and let its religious ardor flow on. But if, as will often be the case, you find your thoughts wander, and your feelings cool, then pause, and by silent thought bring back the mind to its duty ; and thus intermix meditation with prayer, in such manner that you shall never fall into the mechanical, unmeaning repetition of mere words. As your object is not to get through with a certain task, but to pray devoutly, you will find it well to vary your method according to circumstances, and not always adhere to the same mode. I have sometimes suspected, that one cause of the little eflicacy of public worship may be the in- PRAYER. 341 variable method of conducting it ; whereby it is rendered formal, monotonous, and deficient in excitement. But, how- ever this may be, it is quite certain ^hat a similar unvaried routine would be extremely injudicious in private devotion. In this respect, a very considerable latitude is desirable. As you are not to consult the wants or the convenience of others, but your own duty alone, you may have a single re- gard to what shall suit the immediate temper and exigencies of your own mind, without being bound by any prescribed rule as to subject, language, or posture. You will always have by you the Bible to quicken and guide you. But sometimes the first verse you read may lead you to feelings, thoughts, and prayers, which shall so occupy your soul that you will read no more. And it is better to read but one verse, which thus influences your whole spiritual nature, than to read chapters in the unheedful way that is too often practised. At another time, however, the reading of the Scriptures may be your principal occupation, and your less excited mind may not flow beyond a short ejaculation at the close of each verse. Sometimes you may find it well to assist yourself by a printed or written form ; always, how- ever, taking care to leave it, when any sentiment or feeling arises within you which is not there expressed. The main advantage of a form in private is, to suggest thoughts and stimulate the mind ; as soon as it has done this, we should lay it down, and go on of ourselves. Then, presently, if we find it necessary, we may again recur to the form, and make the whole exercise, if we please, an alternate use of the form, and of our own language. In all this we must be guided by the occasion. Similar varieties may be allowed in regard to the subjects of our devotions. There are some great and lending topics of adoration and supplication, which may at no time be 29* 342 MEANS OF RELIGIOUS IMPROVEMENT. forgotten or omitted. But it cannot be necessary in every prayer to go over the vvliole field of devotional sentiment. It is best that we confine ourselves principally to those which are most immediately interesting at the time, and seek to render our present circumstances, fortunes, failings, and prospects, the nourishment of our devotion. The temptations of our peculiar lot, our recent trials of temper, fortitude, and faith, the dealings of Providence with our family and friends, the exposure, wants, and improvement of those most dear to us, — these, as they are at other mo- ments of the greatest concern to us, should be the objects upon which we should, first of all, seek the blessing of God. This it is to connect every thing with religion ; in this way we shall avoid the error, into which some have fallen, of making religion a wholly independent existence, with no reference to the ordinary duties of active life, and no bear- ing on its common concerns, and of course exercising no influence upon them. Such persons have exhibited the strange spectacle of two contradictory characters in one man, the one apparently devout, the other immoral. But the consistent Christian will never separate his religion from his life, nor his life from his religion. He will seek to in- corporate them most intimately with each other. And this he will effect, in no small degree, by making his daily prayers, not the expression of general principles, and in- definite confession, the recitation of articles of faith, or dec- laration of vague desires after holiness; but the e.xpression of those sentiments which belong to his peculiar condition, and a perpetual reference to his personal character and cir- cumstances. It is for these and concerning these that he will pray ; and therefore his prayers will vary as these do. So much, in a general way, respecting the subjects of pri- vate devotion. Next we may say a few words respecting PRAYER. 343 the posture. This need not be invariably the same. Many have laid stress upon it; but it seems to me there is a cer- tain freedom to be allowed in this particular to those who are invited " to come boldly to the throne of grace." Pro- vided we secure the right state of heart, it can matter little what the attitude of the body may be. There are times when the lowest prostration seems best to express and pro- mote the sentiment of lowly adoration and broken-hearted humiliation in wiiich the worshiper supplicates his Father; but again, in a ditlerent tone of spirit, he is prompted to stand erect, and lift up his head and hands, as an attitude most corresponding to the elevated sentiments by which he is filled ; while sometimes he feels that in walking to and fro, or sitting with his head leaning upon his hands, he can best summon his mind to spiritual worship. Cecil says, that his oratory was a little walk in the corner of his cham- ber, where he paced backward and forward as he prayed. Others have been able to be devout only on their knees. What I would briefly urge is, that you be not scrupulous on this head. Allow yourself in any mode. Try various modes. Adopt, from time to time, that which best cultivates and encourages the right tone of feeling. At the same time, you will probably find some truth in the remark, that the adoption of a suitable posture aids the adoption of a suitable frame of mind ; that the expression of reverence in the attitude conveys a feeling of reverence to the spirit; for which reason it will be generally best to assume the posture most associated with the sentiments of devotion, and depart from it only when the change may be favorable to engaged- ne.ss and fervor of mind. The soul may be as truly pros- trati-d when you stand, or walk, or ride, or work, or lie in your bed, as when you kneel before the altar. Neither be too scrupulous concerning the use of your 344 MEANS OF RELIGIOUS IMPROVEMENT. lips. It is oftentimes as well, or better, to pray mentally, without uttering a sound. Yet at the same time there ia danger, if this become our practice, that it will end in turn- ing prayer into meditation, and that our hours of devotion will become hours of musing and reverie. Tliis would be injurious ; and therefore we should commonly use articulate language. Our thoughts are so much associated with words, and words with their sounds, that it is not easy to think connectedly and profitably without the use of speech. It is well, as I have before said, to muse for a time ; but when, after musing, the fire is kindled within us, as the Psalmist expresses it, then we should " speak with our tongues." We shall find this an essential aid in rendering our senti- ments and train of thought distinct to ourselves ; and in so impressing them on our memories, that we shall be able to employ them afterward for our guidance and comfort. Good sentiments, which merely pass through the mind, but are not put into words, are apt to leave no trace behind them ; and he who should habitually indulge himself in thinking his prayers, instead of expressing them, would find it extremely difficult to say what he had prayed for, or to turn to any account in common life the employment of his sacred hours. Meditation is, in its nature, an act very distinct from prayer, and must be very distinct in its effects. Some effects may be common to the two; but much of the peculiar and the happiest influence of devotion on the character must be lost to the man who allows musing to take the place of prayer. It is one thing to contemplate a blessing and desire it ; quite another to ask for it. The latter may require a very different temper of mind from the former ; and it is plain that the promise of God is given to those who ask, not to those who desire ; to those who employ petition, not those PRAYER. 345 who are content with contemplation. Therefore arrange your thoughts in words; and generally give them a distinct utterance in sound ; pausing occasionally for reHection, and being certain that you do not employ words only, but that the thoughts which they express are actually in your mind. In regard to the choice of words, be not too an.xiuus. Take those which express your meaning, without regard to their elegance or eloquence. You will naturally fall into language borrowed from the Scriptures, and that is always good and appropriate. Only take heed that you do not use it mechanically, and without due consideration of its sig- nificance. But when you do not use the terms of Scripture, take those which express what you mean, and consider nothing further. I would lay the more stress upon this, be- cause some persons actually plead, as an excuse for the neg- lect of this duty, that they have no command of language, and cannot readily find correct and proper words. This would be a very good reason for not attempting to pray in public ; and it were to be wished that some, who are forward to exhibit themselves in this act, would consider it more seriously. It is an injury to religion, when he, who speaks to God in the public assembly, or the circle of social wor- ship, does it in rude, hesitating, confused, inappropriate, or ungrammatical language. But in private, when you are simply to pour out your heart, and have no witness but Heaven, allow yourself to put aside all solicitude on this head. Speak as you feel, and whac you feel; only taking care that your feelings are right, and that you know what they are. Alas ! you will often find it a task diflicult enough to regulate your feelings, govern your thoughts, repress wan- dering desires, keep out vain images, and bring your soul to a proper attitude of reverence and love, without the added embarrassment of arranging words by the rules of rhetoric 346 MEANS OF RELIGIOUS IMPROVEMENT. and taste. This is an occupation which interferes with the spirituality of the duty you are performing. I beseech you to disregard it altogether. As respects times and seasons, it may be considered as a salutary rule, that it is better to pray often than long. There are times, undoubtedly, when the mind is glowing and the heart full, that the exercise may be advantageously continued through a long period, and the disciple, like his Master, may spend the whole night in prayer. . It would be a pity to check the current when it flows thus spontaneously, or to lose the luxury of such a season. There may be occasions, too, when duty and improvement shall seem to demand an extraordinary continuance in devotion. I do not therefore recommend that you should limit yourself to a certain stinted number of minutes. But, as a general rule, do not covet long prayers ; rather multiply their number than in- crease their length. This is the rule of Christ, who insists that we pray often and always, but that we do not pray long. A most wise regulation ; for the mind is easily wearied by a long exercise, and is likely to return to it slowly and re- luctantly ; and in the interval, it is liable to go back, like the swinging pendulum, into a directly opposite state. From which cause it may too readily happen that the extended de- votions of the morning shall exhaust the attention of the mind, and produce religious listlessness during the day. Whereas, a shorter act of worship, which should excite without exhausting, which should kindle the fire, but not burn it out, would leave a glow upon the feelings, that would abide for hours, and prompt to holy thoughts and spontaneous acts of worship at short intervals throughout the day. In this manner, the great object of keeping up a religious wakefulness and sensibility is with greater cer- tainty obtained, and the whole current of life more surely colored by the infusion of religious sentiment. PRAYER. 347 Let this, therefore, be your method. Accustom yourself to what is called rjacidutory prayer ; that is, to very frequent petitions and thanksgivings, bursting out from your soul at all times and wherever you may be. Walk with God as you would journey with an intimate friend ; not satisfied to make formal addresses to him at stated seasons, but turning to him in brief and familiar speech whenever opportunity offers, or occasion or feeling prompts. Remember that cer- emonious addresses are appointed, and are chiefly necessary, on social and ceremonious occasions, when a company of men is together, and many minds are to act at once. They can act and be acted upon simultaneously in no other way ; and therefore, in civil and state affairs, as well as in reli- gious, this method is in use. But when we come to more private, domestic, confidential intercourse, we abandon these formal and complimentary arrangements, and find it most natural and happy to do as occasion prompts, in a free and unrestrained style of conduct and of speech. Just so it should be in our more private and confidential communion with the great Father of our spirits. The more it is unem- barrassed by precise forms and ceremonious appendages, and left to the promptings of the feelings and of the moment, the more appropriate is it to our title of" children," and the greater is the felicity which it furnishes. It has, of course, been implied in the preceding remarks, that all is to be done in the spirit of devotion. In what manner this may be effected, it is necessary to state more distinctly ; and the rules to be given for this end will suffi- ciently explain in what that spirit consists. First, then, the genuine, effectual prayer is the prayer of faith ; not of words, not of form ; not an exercise of the un- derstanding, reasoning on the attributes and dispensations of God, and uttering its judgments on duty ; but an address 348 MEANS OF RELIGIOUS IMPROVEMENT, to him, accompanied by a confident persuasion that he hears and regards. " He that cometh to God," says the apostle, " must believe that lie is, and that he is a rewarder of them that diligently seek him." Of this there must be no doubt on the mind. You must realize that you are actually speak- ing to him, and he listening to you, as truly as when you address yourself to a visible mortal ; and you must have as real a conviction that something depends on the act, and as real a desire to receive what you ask for, as when you make a request for some important favor to a human friend. If you doubt, your prayer is weak and inefficacious. " Ask in faith," says James, ** nothing wavering ; for he that waver- eth is like a wave of the sea, driven with the wind and tossed." His uncertain and fluctuating mind wants sta- bility, and cannot receive a blessing. Therefore it is added, " Let not that man think that he shall obtain any thing from the Lord." May we not suppose that much of the dissatisfaction attendant on our prayers, and much of their unfruitfulness, is owing to the doubtful, hesitating state of mind in which they are offered? And what can be more miserably destructive of all energy and interest in the em- ployment? If you doubt whether you shall be heard, you will pray timidly and coldly, without courage or spirit. If your prayers are thus lifeless, your conduct will be so too, and all spiritual savor will fade away from your life. Do not, then, allow in yourself this doubtfulness of temper. The most extravagant fanaticism, which sees a visible light descending as it prays, and finds an answer in presentiments and dreams, is not more mistaken, and is far more happy. Give yourself up to the assurance, that they who ask shall be heard, and go " boldly to the throne of grace." Jesus, by his invitations and doctrine, has given you a right to this confidence ; and it is only in the exercise of it, humbly, PRAYER. 349 but firmly, that you may " cast out the fear which hath torment." Next, your prayer must be fervent ; that is, your affec- tions must be engaged and interested in it. You must not barely, as a reasoning philosopher, or well-instructed pupil, declare what you coolly judge to be right, and assert that man, in his present relations, ought to seek and do what is right, and that God, as the Father and Governor, should be adored and obeyed, (which is the tenor of the»devutional exercises one sometimes hears;) but you must set yourself actually to do these things. You can only be said to pray when the sentiment you utter springs from your heart ; and, rising above all the arguments and persuasions of the wise, you pour out your feelings as a little child confides its thoughts to a parent's bosom ; thinking only of your own dependence and need, and of God's ability and readiness to succor you, and earnestly aspiring after that purity and piety which you feel to constitute the excellence and bliss of marl. When this fervent glow is upon your mind, you pray in the spirit. Seek for it. Be not content without it. In the next place, do not allow yourself to grow weary. Persevere; however ill satisfied, however discouraged, per- severe. Open the New Testament, and you will see how this is insisted upon, again and again, and by various illus- trations. " That men should always pray, and never faint," was the great moral of more than one of our Lord's para- bles ; and to "pray without ceasing" was the corresponding* direction of his apostles. Situated as we are in this world, there is danger that, perceiving little immediate fruit from our devotions, we should relax our diligence in them ; first doubting their value, then losing our interest in them, and then ceasing to perform them. But we should recollect, that, in this case, as in all the most important and admirable 30 350 MEANS OF RELIGIOUS IMPROVEMENT. provisions of divine wisdom, it is the order of Heaven to give, not to a single exertion, nor to a few acts, nor even to some continuance of effort, but only to a long, unremitted, persevering effort. We read tliis lesson every where. Look at that glorious operation of God, by which the sun cher- ishes and matures the fruits of the earth for the sustenance of its creatures. It is not accomplished by one act, nor by several acts, nor yet by sudden, violent exertions of power. He sends out his beams steadily, day by day, month after month ; yet the fruit is still green, the harvest immature ; and if, weary with the work, he should abandon it, famine might devastate the globe, when but six days' longer perse- verance would see it successful. The whole toil of the season might thus be lost, when a trifling addition only was necessary to render it all-effective. In how many other cases is the same truth illustrated ! Will you, then, aban- don your prayers, because you do not witness the effect from them which you desire ? Will you be discouraged, when, by a little longer continuance, you may receive the full blessing at once ? Shall the husbandman " wait patiently," and will you, looking for an immortal harvest, lose it for want of patience? No. This is the eternal, immutable rule in regard to all great acquisitions. Piety and virtue, character and immortality, depend upon a long succession of actions, neither of them, taken singly, of essential mo- ment, yet all, in the aggregate, essential to effect the great end in view. Apply this consideration to your prayers, and resolutely persevere. Thus it is the humble prayer of confident faith, fervent and persevering, from which you are to hope benefit and acceptance. But you may ask, " How shall I know that it is accepted, and with what answer should I be satisfied ? " PRAYER, 351 To the first part of this question, tliere is but one reply. If you are conscious of having prayed aright, you may be assured that your prayer is accepted. You can have no external evidence of the fact ; but the Scriptures every where dechire that a right prayer is certainly accepted. This, then, is a reason for self-examination, and for carefully regulating the state of your mind. You may imagine, however, that you are rather to judge by the answer to your prayers ; and that if, after offering earnest petitions for certain blessings, you find them denied, you are to suppose that your devotions are not accepted. In regard to this, I observe, that the purpose of prayer is twofold — particular and general; the first, to supplicate certain specific blessings which we need or desire ; the sec- ond, to obtain the divine favor in general; or, which is equivalent to it, to obtain that state of mind and heart which is always an object of complacency with God, and secures his permanent approbation. Now, it is evident that the lat- ter is an object infinitely more important than the former. It is of no consequence whether you receive certain gifts of health, or safety, or prosperous affairs, in comparison with the importance of attaining that frame of soul which God approves, and which will fit you for heaven. If, then, you have plainly gathered from your devotions the advantage of a religious growth, — if you are brought by them nearer to God, formed into the likeness of Jesus Christ, and made superior to the things of earth and sense, — then you have gained the highest objects which man may aspire to, and should feel no dissatisfaction or doubt because inferior blessings are denied. Having received the greater, you should be content not to receive the less. And this is a sufficient reply to the second part of the question stated above, viz., "With what answer shall I be satisfied?" Be 352 MEANS OF RELIGIOUS IMPROVEMENT, satisfied with that answer which is found in the improving state of your own religious affections ; in the peace, seren- ity, confidence, and hope, which belong to a mind habitu- ally conversant with God, and which God bestows only on such. I do not mean to say that other and more specific an- swers may not be sometimes given ; for doubtless the devout mind may often have reason to trace particular blessings, and with a practised eye may trace them, to a source which has been opened in reply to the prayer of faith. When you shall perceive it to be so in your own case, happy will you be ; and you will not fail to acknowledge it with suitable gratitude. But what I mean to say is, that this is not what you are habitually to expect : you are not to wait for this in order to the satisfaction of your mind. God feeds his chil- dren with spiritual food ; and it is one part of his discipline of their faith to deny them temporal blessings in order to the more abundant bestowal of those that are spiritual ; to advance the moral man to perfection through the disap- pointment or mortification of the outward man. Do not, then, be uneasy, because your prayers may, at first view, seem inefficacious. The service of truth and virtue is not to be rewarded by the wages of this world's goods. Health, strength, riches, prosperity, are not the best, they are not the appropriate recompense, for self-denial, humility, benev- olence, and purity. The true recompense is eternal and imperishable. If you have this, why be dissatisfied that you have not the other ? If you have this, how can you fancy that God has not accepted your prayer? To which it may be added, that, if you prayetl aright, you prayed in the spirit of submission ; not only acknowledging, but feeling, the wisdom of Heaven to be greater than your own, and desiring to obtain only such gifts as that wisdom PRAYER. a53 should judge it best to bestow. Such gifts, of course, are granted. If, therefore, you were sincere, you should be con- tent. You are not relieved, perhaps, from the trouble against which you prayed ; the evil you fear comes, the good you desire is denied, notwithstanding your earnest supplica- tion. But does it follow that your prayer is slighted ? Be- lieve it not. What you designed was, to ask blessings ; you named the things which you esteemed such ; but at the same time you knew that your judgment was fallible. If God has refused the things specified, it is because in his judgment they would not prove blessings, and he has be- stowed in their stead an increase of faith, which is a real blessing. Or perhaps I may say, he has proposed to you a discipline of your faith, which will prove a transcendent good, unless, by your blind discontent and misuse of it, you turn it into a curse. It will follow from these remarks, that we are to dwell in prayer on topics rather of a spiritual than of a temporal nature ; that we should ask such things as relate rather to our character than to our condition, rather to our religious than to our worldly prosperity ; for, these being the chief objects of desire and happiness, (so much so, that our peti- tions for earthly good oftentimes receive no reply but in the state of our own minds,) it must follow that they should be our chief objects of interest and desire in our exalted hours of communication with God. Our religious addresses in those hours are made up of adoration, thanksgiving, confes- sion, petition. Now, two of these, adoration and confession, relate to spiritual objects exclusively. The other two relate to objects of both a spiritual and temporal character, the blessings and wants of both soul and body. But it is plain that the former far exceed the latter in number and in im- portance, and should, therefore, occupy the larger share of 30* 354 MEANS OF RELIGIOUS IMPROVEMENT. attention. If, then, you would do what is most consonant to the nature of the exercise, and your own most real wants, if you would receive blessings corresponding to the petitions you express, you will dwell principally on spiritual and im- mortal good; seeking first of all, in prayer as at all times, " the kingdom of God and its righteousness." You will do this, also, if you would copy the pattern which our Lord has given ; for of the seven sentences of the prayer which he taught his disciples, only one has relation to man's temporal condition. You will do it, if you would imitate our great Exemplar and Master, whose recorded prayers have exclusive regard to the welfare of his spiritual king- dom and the bestowment of internal blessings. And it is not to the example alone of the Savior that you are to have reference in your prayers. You are also to re- gard him as the Mediator, through whom they are to be offered. It belongs to the system of our religion, that the thought of its Founder should be associated, in the minds of its disciples„ with all that they are and do ; with their sense of obligation, and their sentiments of piety. They are "to do every thing in the name of the Lord Jesus; " with a consciousness of their connection with him, and of their dependence upon the instruction, motives, and strength, which they have received from him. They are " to walk by faith in the Son of God." His image is to be blended with their whole life. Especially is this to be the case in the acts of life which are strictly and peculiarly religious. " Whatsoever ye ask in my name, believing." " Giving thanks unto God and the Father by him." It is only through his instruction, authority, and encouragement, that they know their privilege of filial worship, and are enabled so to offer it that they may look for acceptance. The hope of pardon on the confession of sin is grounded upon what he PRAYER. 35& has done, suffered, and declared; and the confidence with which the penitent seeks forgiveness and life is owing to his trust in the word of Jesus, and his being able to lean on him as a Friend and Advocate, when he casts himself a sup- pliant before God. Understand, then, that the acceptable prayer is that which is made in the name of the great In- tercessor ; and let your heart be warmed and iniboldened in your devotions by the consciousness of your relation to him " whom the Father heareth always." I will add but two further remarks before closing this topic. First, I have all along assumed that I am address- ing a person sincerely engaged in the pursuit of religious attainments. This siticerity of pursuit is a fundamental requisite, without which all exhortations, means, assistance, sacrifices, will be only thrown away. If, therefore, after having made some effort after a spirit of devotion, in pur- suance of the course recommended, you find, as men some- times do, that you derive from it neither improvement nor satisfaction, I recommend to you to examine whether you are really in earnest ; whether you do actually, in your heart, desire religious improvement ; whether, in short, there be not in you a lurking preference for your present state of mind", and an attachment to some passion, taste, or pursuit, incompatible with a zealous devotedness to Christian truth, and a suitable attention to the discii)Iine which it demands. Many are, no doubt, prevented from advancement by secret hindcrances of this nature, of whose operation they are not at all aware. If, upon inquiry, you cannot discover that it is so with you, then examine strictly the methods you have pursued, and the observances you have practised. You will probably find that they have been in some particulars inju- diciously selected, or improperly or insufficiently attend- ed; that you have failed in a resolute, steadfast, systematic 356 MEANS OF RELIGIOUS IMPROVEMENT. adherence to your own rules ; that you have habitually al- lowed yourself in something wrong, or neglected something right. Look after your mistake. When you shall have dis- covered and corrected it, you may be certain of securing the improvement you desire. Secondly, take heed that you do not allow yourself to fancy that an observance of these or similar rules consti- tutes all your duty under this head. Do not forget that the devotion which Christianity teaches is nothing less than per- petually thinking, feeling, and acting, as becomes a child of God, — a perpetual worship. This is the end at which you are to aim — an end, however, which is not to be at- tained without the use of means; and the directions in the preceding pages are designed simply to point out some of the means. Some persons do not need such directions. For them they are not designed. But there are others to whom they must be welcome and wholesome. Let such use them, but without forgetting that they are means only. Let them guard, from the first and always, against the idea that the practice of these will secure the great object, without any further exertion or sacrifice ; th:.t, to be devout men, they have only to observe stated seasons, and perform stated acts. There cannot be a more pernicious error. It is at variance with the whole nature and spirit of Christianity. God is to be served by the entire life ; by its actions as well as its thoughts, its duties as well as its desires, its deeds as well as its feelings. The religious man must have the frame of his mind and the tenor of his conduct at all times religious; in the mar- ket and thefamily no less than in the closet and the church. Indeed, considering how much more of life is spent abroad in action and trial than is passed in the worship and con- templation of retirement, it is plainly of greater conse- PREACHING. 357 qnence to watch and labor in the world than in private. Besides that it is easier to be religiously disposed for an hour a day, when reading the Bible or kneeling at the altar, - than it is to be so during the many other hours which are full of the world's temptations, and when all the irregular pas- sions are liable to be excited. Remember, then, to try your prayers by your life; you may know how sincere they are by their agreement or disagreement with your habitual sen- timents and conduct. Regulate your life by your prayers ; in vain do you think yourself religious, if you go with holy words and humble confessions to the divine presence, but at other times live in thoughtlessness and sin. True religion is a sincrle thing. Devout exercises form a part of its exhi- bition ; holy living forms another part. Unless they exist together, it is to no purpose that they exist at all. To sep- arate them is to destroy the religion. To this consideration, then, let your perpetual and vigilant attention be given ; and be satisfied with your hours of devotion only when they exer- cise a sacred and constant influence over the condition of your mind and life, and have made them holy to the Lord. IV. Preaching. From the more private means of religious improvement we pass to the consideration of those which are in their nature- public. Preaching is a divine institution ; and its authority and wisdom have been illustriously justified in the success which has attended it in every age of the church. It is to a pub- lication from the lips of living teachers, that the gospel owes its spread through so large a portion of the globe. At its first introduction, at its reformation, and in its present diffusion, it has been the " company of the preachers " that has arrested attention to its divine truths, and subdued the hearts of men to its holy power. And it always must be 358 MEANS OF RELIGIOUS IMPROVEMENT. the case, however great may be the efficacy of those more personal instruments of which we have spoken, that the pulpit shall be the main engine for the incitement and in- struction of the individual mind, and the maintenance of the power of religion in the Christian world. Multitudes, however, habitually attend the preaching of the gospel with little profit, and with no adequate appre- hension of its purpose or value. Habit, thoughtlessness, inattention, worldliness, cause its sublime instructions to be unheeded, and render its powerful appeals unimpressive. It may have been so with you in times past. But if you are now truly awake to the necessity of studying the improve- ment of your character, and making God's will the rule of your life, you will listen eagerly to the preaching of his truth, and drink it in as a thirsty man water. I say nothing, therefore, to urge the duty of attendance in the house of prayer. You will esteem it one of your privileges, and ivill feel that, however imperfectly the word may be dispensed, it is yet full of a divine savor, and profitable to any one who seeks his soul's good rather than his mind's entertainment. In order to the greatest advantage from this duty, it is well, in the first place, to give heed to the manner in which the other hours of the Sabbath are spent. There can be no doubt that one considerable cause of the inefhcacy of preaching is to be found in the circumstance that the re- mainder of the Sabbath is passed in a manner little likely to prepare the mind for its religious services, and suited to obliterate the impressions received from them. The senti- ments exited in holy time, instead of being cherished, are checked and smothered by the uncongenial engagements of the rest of the day ; and Sunday becomes, at length, even a day for hardening the heart, through this habitual resistance of the most solemn truths. For, when exposed to their fre- PREACHING. 359- qrient repetition, if it do not yield to them, it must inevitably become callous to them. This evil you are to guard against, by making the whole occupation of the day harmonize with that portion of it which is spent in public worship. And to do this implies no fanatical recluseness or morose sullenness. It implies nothing but the endeavor of a reasonable man, who finds that the cares of the six days tend to distract his feelings from religion, to counteract them on the day set apart for that purpose. It is only saying, with regard to all worldly occupations, what Burke said of politics in the pul- pit : Six days are full of them, and six days are enough ; let us give one day to something better. You will, therefore, be careful so to spend your morning hours, that you shall enter the sanctuary with a prepared mind, — already touched with a sense of God, and tuned to his praise. Your reading and your thoughts will be directed to this purpose ; and instead of cherishing or inviting vain thoughts and a light state of feeling, by lounging over a newspaper, or a novel, or by conversation on the passing events of the day, you will occupy yourself on such subjects as shall hallow the temper of your mind, and exclude the crowd of impertinent desires. Then you will be ready to join feelingly in the public service of your Maker, and listen profitably to the exhortations of the pulpit. Yoii have doubtless observed in your own case, and heard it remarked by others, that the same discourse, under differ- ent circumstances, seems like a very different thing; that what at one time is listened to with pleasure and interest, at another is heard with indifference. To what can this be owing, but to the variation in the hearer's state of mind ? The discourse is the same ; but it addresses itself to a soul at one time tuned to the occasion and the subject, and at another tuned to something else. So important is adapta- 360 MEAJJS OF RELIGIOUS IMPROVEMENT. tion, as might be illustrated in a thousand ways. Hence you will study to carry a prepared mind to the hearing of the word, that you may not fail of receiving the utmost edi- fication. Otherwise you may sit under the most powerful ministry, and hear divine truth dispensed with an eloquence worthy of angels, and yet sit unmoved. It can be powerful to your heart, it can eifectually promote your progress in the Christian life, only through your own preparation to receive it, and in proportion to that preparation. Let me also caution you to remember that there is good and important matter belonging to every subject which the pulpit may treat ; and it is very unwise (to use the mildest expression) to turn away dissatisfied, because a sermon does not happen to fall in with the state of your feelings. Hear- ers are often guilty of great injustice in this way. They are too ready to measure the preacher's fidelity by the degree in which he speaks to their own immediate experience. They are earnestly engaged in particular views, feelings, trains of thought, processes of experience, which, filling their mind, seem to them all in all ; and if the preacher does not touch upon these, they condemn him as dry, cold, and jejune. But they should consider that there are other minds to be suited besides their own, and that what is so ill adapted to themselves may be precisely what is needed by others ; nay, precisely what they themselves may need at another time. Instead of expressing dissatisfaction, they should rejoice that every one receives in turn a portion adapted to him, and en- deavor to elicit something applicable to themselves. If they will but seek, they will often find a seasonable word when they least expect it. Let me entreat you to make this your habit. If you do not, it is plain that many Sundays will be lost to you, (for you cannot have your own case always treated ;) and you will, moreover, become a fastidious and PREACHING. 361 querulous hearer, discontented with yourself, and uncom- fortable to others. But if you resolutely bring your mind to take an interest in whatever you hear, you will always find cause for contentment and satisfaction, if not for edifi- cation and delight. Few things are more hostile to such attendance on preach- ing as shall promote religious improvement, than the habit of listening to sermons as literary or rhetorical efforts, and for the gratification of a literary taste. From the very na- ture of the case, it must result in constant dissatisfaction. For let it be considered how few of all the authors who have published books, are able to give this gratification ; and can it, then, be expected of every preacher? How small a proportion of the thousands who have preached have printed their sermons ! and how few of these have a place among the eminent names of literature ! Hence it is impossible that every preacher should, every Sunday, satisfy a man who has formed his taste on printed specimens of excellence, and who comes to gratify it at church. It is in- evitable that such a one should be disappointed and dis- pleased, far more often than he shall be tolerably gratified. Those who, on this ground, are accustomed to speak harshly of ministers, and to excite discontent in the community, would^do well to rellect on the unreasonableness of the re- quisition, and learn that they injure themselves by looking for what they cannot expect to find, to the neglect of that substantial good which alone is intended to be conveyed. But he who thinks only of improvement, and the religious exercise of his mind, will always find something to engage and satisfy him. Distinguished talent there may not be, nor original thought, nor striking images, nor tasteful composi- tion, nor eloquent declamation ; but Christian truth, old and familiar perhaps, but still high and important, there always 31 362 MEANS OF RELIGIOUS IMPROVEMENT, will be. Dwelling upon this, excited by it to reflection, occupied in studying by its light his own character and prospects, and the perfections and purposes of God, he has no lack of interesting thought. The preacher becomes but a secondary object. His God, his duty, his salvation, — - these are the topics on which his mind runs ; and these he can contemplate: he will not be hindered from contemplat- ing them, whatever may be the feebleness or deficiencies of him who ministers at the altar. Bacon has laid down a rule for profitable reading, which ought to be sacredly applied to preaching, by those who would listen to it profitably: " Read, not to contradict and confute, nor to believe and take for granted, nor to find talk and discourse, but to weigh and consider." What you hear from your minister, " weigh and consider '' for a religious end and a personal application. To listen as a critic, with a fastidious nicety about diction, and a captious sensibility to style, is a sure method to defeat what should be the first object with the hearer, as it is the great purpose of the speaker. For which reason, it has been remarked, we are not to be surprised that Paul, with all his energy of speech, made so few converts, and gathered no church, among the Athenians ; the sensitive and intellectual taste, and love of ingenious fancies, which distinguished them, formed a habit of mind peculiarly fitted to destroy the capacity for receiv- ing any strong and profound impressions. In the next place, if you think that, when you leave the house of God, you may discharge from your mind the thoughts and sentiments there excited ; if you immediately join in frivolous society and ordinary conversation ; if you occupy your time in making visits of ceremony, or in read- ing the Sunday newspaper and books of amusement, — you can derive little advantage from the service in which you PREACHING. 363 have engaged. However serious may have been your at- tendance, however earnest the wisli for improvement, you are taking the surest method to render it aJJ vain. The word spoken must be treasured up, the counsels of wisdom must be made to abide in the heart, the instructions and warnings of Heaven must be fixed by reflection and thouo-ht, or the impressions you have received will be transitory, and the good purposes which spring up within you will pass away like the early dew. If the preacher have presented arguments for the truth of Christianity, or for the support of any of its great doctrines, of what use has this been to you, if you shall know nothing about them to-morrow? And how can you hope to remember what is so diificult to bq retained, if you take no pains to refresh your mind with it by immediate retirement and contemplation ? If he have been urging you to the study of your own heart, and point- ing out the sources of self-deception, and the means of pres- ervation against the sins which easily beset you, and you have been affected and humbled, and made to resolve on greater watchfulness, of what avail will this be, if you im- mediately abandon yourself to frivolous topics of thought? and how are you any the better prepared for the temptations and trials of to-morrow, if you thus drive from your mind those views which were to strengthen you I Or, if he have presented to you the elevating truths respecting God, and heaven, and man's prospects of glory, and thus raised in your spirit a glow of divine love and a sense of your exalt- ed destiny, and you at once turn from it all to employments and thoughts which are wholly of earth, then is not that holy excitement worse than lost ? Have you not done some- thing to harden your heart, and render it less capable of receiving the same impression again ? For you have resist- ed its motions, and quenched its tire, by caJling it back to 364 MEANS OF KELIGIOUS IMPROVEMENT. this lower world, when it was just beginning to delight itself in heaven. Depend upon it, that the mere attendance upon public worship is very insufficient, without some care to fix its im- pressions afterwards and to recall and strengthen what you have heard and enjoyed. It is wise, therefore, to go back from church to retirement, there to think over the truths that you have heard, refresh the feelings that you have in- dulged, apply to your conscience the doctrine delivered, and supplicate the divine blessing. By habitually doing this, you will in time become possessed of a large fund of reli- gious information and moral truth, which otherwise might have been lost to you ; and instead of being in the condition of those who cannot perceive that the pulpit has ever taught them any thing, you will find it a most efficient and persuasive instructor. It is a custom., with some persons, to make a record of the discourses which they have heard, entering in a book the texts and subjects, together with a brief sketch of the train of remark. This is a very commendable and useful custom, provided it be not allowed to take off one's thouglits from the duty of self-application, and do not become a mere effort of memory and trial of skill. If this be avoided, the practice will be found useful in many respects. The exer- cise of writing greatly assists that of thinking, and discov- ers to one whether his ideas are distinct and clear. It en- ables and compels him to look closely at the subject, so that he cannot dismiss it with the cursory and impatient exami- nation which he might be otherwise tempted to give it. It enables him afterwards to read, with distinctness, the im- pressions which he received, and to revive the purposes which he formed in consequence of them. Ilis record be- comes a spiritual monitor, reminding him, whenever he PREACHING. 365 consults it, of the lessons he lias learned, and the expostu- lations he has heard ; and prompting him to a more definite comparison of his actual attainments with the standard whicli lias been placed before him. The advantages which may thus be derived from it will be far more than a com- pensation for all the trouble attending it. But whether you make such memoranda or not, the prac- tice of recalling to mind the instructions and reflections of Gods house, if ^systematically pursued, will save you from the pain of making the complaint which we hear from so many that they cannot remeniber what they have heard, oftentimes not even the text ; and this, too, from persons who can repeat all the particulars of a long story to which tliey have listened, or a longer conversation in which they have taken part. Why this difference 1 Partly because they attended with greater interest to the story and the con- versation ; partly because these are more easily remembered than a formal discourse ; but principally because these are matters that they are accustomed to recall to mind and re- peat, which they have not been accustomed to do in regard to sermons. The want of practice is the principal diffi- culty. Make it an object always to remember, and be in the habit of going over again in your mind, the principal topics, and you will not be troubled with want of memory. I should do wrong, however, if I did not here speak a word of comfort to those humble and sincere Christians, whose advantages in early life were not such as to enable them to form any habits of intellectual exertion, and who are, in consequence, subject to a weakness of memory which tliey have struggled against in vain, and which is a source of constant unhaj)piness to them. Every thing they hear from the pulpit slips from their minds, even if it have highly moved and delighted them ; and they fear that this is a sign 31* 366 MEANS OF RELIGIOUS IMPROVEMENT. of unprofitableness and sin. To such it may be well to recommend the reply of John Newton to one who came to him sorrowing with the same complaint. " You forget," said he, " what was preached to you. So, too, you forget up- on what food you dined a week or a month ago ; yet you are none the less sure that you received nourishment from it ; and no doubt, also, that your spiritual food nourished you, though you have forgotten in what it consisted. So long as you received it with pleasure and a healthy digestion, and it has kept you a living and growing soul, it can be of no con- sequence whether you particularly remember it or not." Finally, preaching, however ineffectual it may often prove, is one of the chief means of grace, and is capable of being made, by every individual, a principal agent in his religious advancement. Let it be so to you. It will be so if you attend on it in a right spirit, and faithfully strive to gain nourishment from it. Do not let it be your shame and guilt, that you sit year after year within hearing of the preacher's voice, and yet are none the better. Do not suffer it to be with yourself, as it is with many, that preaching grows less interesting as they advance. This, it is true, is in part owing to the nature of the mind, which finds a delight in what is new and fresh, which it does not perceive in what has been long familiar. There is a charm in listening to the word preached, when the soul is first awakened to an interest in the concerns of its salvation, and devours every sentence as a hungry man his food, which cannot be fully retained in cooler and maturer years. But if the charm be entirely gone, if the relish be altogether lost, it must be through your own fault. It must be because you have not watched over the tastes and susceptibility of your mind, but have, through neglect, suffered it to become hardened. Be but faithful to yourself, cherish your tenderness of spirit, THE lord's SPPPER. 367 take pains to keep alive the ardor and interest of your younger days, and you will find that your feelings will not become wholly dead to the voice of the preacher nor will time and age be able to rob you of this source of your en- joyment. The ancient philosopher, on whom has been well bestowed the title of " Rome's least mortal mind," in writ- ing beautifully of old age, tells us, that the great reason why the faculties of men are impaired in tlie declining years of a long life, is, that they cease to use and exercise them; and that any man, by continuing vigorously to exert them as in earlier life, may hope to retain them to the last, in some- thing of their original power. The remark may be applied to the old age of the Christian. By faithfully watching over and exercising his feelings and emotions, he may retain them in some good degree of liveliness and vigor to the latest period. And although the zest with which he hung on the ministration of the word, in the first ardor of his youthful faith, may be gone, he will maintain a sober in- terest, and find a tranquil delight, suited to the serenity of his fading days, and to the peacefulness of the expectation with which he waits the summons to go home. V. The Lord's Supper. This interesting rite is the last in the series of Christian means which I shall mention. It is that to which the young disciple is accustomed to look forward with intense feeling, and the arrival at which constitutes an era in his progress fondly expected and fondly remembered. Sometimes it ap- pears to be regarded too much as the limit of improvement, the goal of the course, the prize of the victory, after which the believer is to sit down and enjoy in security the attain- ments he has made, exempt from the necessity of further watchfulness and combat. It is owing, in no small degree, to the prevalence of this opinion, that so many make no 368 MEANS OF RELIGIOUS IMPROVEMENT. actual or perceptible progress after their arrival at the Lord's table. They esteem it less as the means and incitement of greater improvement, than as the end and completion of the work they had undertaken ; not so much a refreshment to their weakness in the trying journey of duty, as the festival which rewards its termination. Be on your guard against this erroneous feeling. Habitually remember, that your vigilance and labor are to end only at the grave; that the fight lasts as long as life ; that the crown of the victor is "laid up in heaven;" and that whatever indulgences may be granted here, they are but as encouragements to your perseverance and strengtheners to your weakness, designed to cheer and help you on your way ; not seasons of repose and enjoyment, but of recollection and preparation ; so that they, in fact, form a part of that system of discipline, by which every thing below is made to try and prove the character of man. In this light you will view the peculiar ordinance of our faith, — as a privilege and indulgence, but also as a pledge and incitement to activity in duty. From the moment that it has been your purpose to become a follower of Christ, you have looked forward to this holy feast as something which it would make you but too blessed to be permitted to partake. While occupied with other means of improve- ment, you have still felt that there was one thing lacking, and have perhaps been stimulated to a more earnest dili- gence in the use of them, by the reflection that they would prepare you for this ultimate and superior enjoyment. Such is the very common experience of the growing Christian ; and it is my wish to show you how that may be rendered a blessing in the enjoyment, which has been so eagerly de- sired in the anticipation. Settle it distinctly in your mind, tliat this ordinance, so THE lord's supper. 369 far as relates to your concern in it, has a twofold purpose ; first, to express and manifest your faith in Christ, and your allegiance and attaclunent to him ; secondly, to aid and strengthen you in a faitliful adherence to his religion. That is to say, in other words, by your attendance at the Lord's table, you declhre yourself to be, from principle and affec- tion, a Christian ; and you seek to revive and confirm the sentiments, purposes, and habits, which belong to that char- acter. These are the two objects which the ordinance is intended to accomplish, and which you are to have con- stantly in view. By considering the first of these, you will be enabled to decide how soon, and at what period, you ought to offer yourself for this celebration. Can you say that you are in principle and affection a follower of Jesus Christ? This is the question you are to put to yourself; not whether you have been sucii for a long time ; not how great attainments you have made ; but are you such at heart, and are you resolved perseveringly to maintain this character ? Look at this ([uestion. Ponder its meaning. Put it to yourself fiith- fully. Do nothing with haste or rashness, but proceed calmly and deliberately. Then, if you can conscientiously reply in the affirmative, if you have already showed so much constancy in your efforts, that you may rationally hope to persevere, you may make your profession before men, and take the promised blessing. Hasty minds have sometimes rushed forward too soon, and only exposed their own insta- bility, and brought dishonor on their calling. Be not, there- fore, hasty. But timid men have sometimes hesitated too long; have delayed till their ardor cooled, till they fancied they could stand and flourish without any further help, till death or age overtook them, and they were called to meet their Lord without having confessed him before men. Be- 370 MEANS OF RELIGIOUS IMPROVEMENT. ware, therefore, that you delay not too long. To deliberate whetlier we shall observe a commandment, after our minds are impressed with a sense of the duty of doing so, is to break it. To postpone our acceptance of a privilege, whea we feel that it is such, and know that it is offered to our- selves, is to refuse it, and to forego its benefits. He who believes, and is resolved to live and die in his belief, has a right to this ordinance ; he is under his Master's orders to attend it ; and he should reflect that obedience, to be ac- ceptable, should be prompt. As soon, therefore, as your attention to religious things has sufficiently prepared and settled your mind, you will solemnly acknowledge it by this outward testimonial of faith. So far the ordinance looks to the past. It also looks to the future ; and you will, secondly, as I said, use it as a salutary means of religious growth, appointed to this end, and singularly suited to accomplish it. You will regard it, and attend it, as one of the appropriate instruments by which you are to keep alive, and carry on to perfection, that prin- ciple of spiritual life, which has had birth within you, and which has made a certain progress toward maturity. ^ It is a means singularly fitted to accomplish this end, be- cause it is an ordinance at once so affecting and so compre- hensive ; — affecting, by bringing directly before us, in one collected view, the circumstances under which it was insti- tuted, and the purposes of Heaven with which it is connect- ed ; — the trials and sufferings of the Son of man, the meekness and sublimity of his submission, the tenderness and pathos of his last conversation and prayers, the deser- tion in which he was left by his disciples, the insults to which he was exposed from his enemies, the torture in which he died, submissive and forgiving ; and all this that he might seal the truth which he had taught, and provide sal- THE lord's supper. 371 vation for miserable men. It is true that all this is familiar to the mind, and often brought before it in other acts of worship. But here it forms the express subject of contem- plation and prayer. Here it is set before us more evidently and vividly by the circumstances, the forms, the apparatus of the occasion. It is made the special object of regard, and therefore is suited, in a peculiar manner, to affect us. It has another advantage. It is as comprehensive as it is affecting. In its primitive intention, in its simple purpose, it is, as it was designated by our Lord himself, a commem- oration of him : " This do in remembrance of me." And what is it to remember Jesus, rightly and effectually, but to call to mind all that he was, and did, and suffered, in his own person ; and all the blessings, advantages, and hopes, which have resulted to us, and shall forever result, from his ministry and death ? These are all connected together by one close and indissoluble chain. They are united, in in- separable union, with his name and memory. When we reflect on our Muster, our minds cannot pause till they have erverse dis- positions of those around us, in the little crosses, the petty disappointments, tiie trilling ills which are our perpetual lot, we are exposed to lose ihii CHRISTIAN LIFE CHAPTER I. ERRORS RESPECTING THE DUTY OF RELIGIOUS PROGRESS NOTICED AND CORRECTED ESPECIALLY THE ERROR THAT THE CHRISTIAN LIFE, HAVING BEEN BEGUN, IS AC- COMPLISHED. NoTHixXG can be plainer than that the Christian character is a thing to be acquired and to be improved ; yet it is evident that many do not so regard it. If we may judge from their conduct, the number is not small of those who esteem it some- thing which belongs to them just as the body does, and to be kept alive and in health just like that, by living along from day to day, as the circumstances of each day may suggest, but not to be the subject of any special regard. But as to being every dny better than the day before, as to being more humble and charitable this year than they were last, it does not enter their mind, it makes no part of their plan. They have been Christians, they say, as long as they can remember ; they always believed in the gospel, and meant to do their duty. But they do not know more about the history and founda- 34 398 PROGRESS OF THE CHRISTIAN LIFE. tion, the nature and purposes, of their religion, nor are they^ in any respect more devoted. Indeed, when one thinks seriously on the subject, it is a matter of amazement to him to observe how stationary good men are, and how quietly they content themselves with being so. It is not so in other matters. We look around us on the community, and we see it in a state of commotion and ^- vancement. Its prosperity is a wonder tons: and that pros- perity is progress. Every one is pushing forward. Every one is eager and panting for success. Our young men rise step by step; they are discontented if they find it otherwise. Those who began life with nothing are seen in a few years comfortably living with a family around them, — then enter- ing a larger dwelling, supporting a more extensive establish- ment, and in various expenses evincing the advancement they have made. This is common. But meantime — even if they account themselves Christians, and remember that they have an eternity as well as a family to provide for — they have not dreamed of exhibiting any proportionate ad- vancement of character ; it has not occurred to them that their piety should have grown with their estate; that their charities should have been as much greater than formerly as their income has become larger; that, as they have been rising in the world, they should have risen also toward heaven. In the eye of the world, they are better dres.^ed and better lodged, and they move in a more fashionable and intellectual circle ; but in the eye of God, in their preparation for heaven, they are just where they were. They have contrived to give the soul just food enough to keep it of the same stature — not considering that it was to grow as well as the body — not considering, indeed, that this eager attention to worldly good, and rapid growth in eurthly prosperity, have very probably stunted the growth of their characters. PROGRESS OF THE CHRISTIAN LIFE. 399 How salutary might it prove to every one whom Provi- dence has blessed with an increase of goods, if, at every enlargement of his style of living, he should devote one day to searching into his spiritual progress, and resolve never to erect a new house, or introduce a higher indulgence to his domestic economy, until he could honestly say, that he was as much improved in character as in fortune ! But, alas ! tliis is far from being the way of the world. Tlioy are satisfied to seem to themselves no worse tiian they were; — if they deeply examined themselves, tliey might discover that they are, in fact, much worse. Amid this universal and earnest struggle for the outside life, the inner life is neglected ; and very good men are en- tirely content to be no better, who could ill brook to be no richer. Certainly this indicates a false idea of the true object of life, and a very imperfect acquaintance with that religion which they profess to have taken for their guide. I do not treat tiie (juestion in its reference to mere men of the world. On their jjrinciples they are right. With a worldly man, char- acter is of very little consequence. If he be not dishonest, so as to be in danger of the law, — if he keep a decent repu- tation for fairness and tlie social virtues, so as not to hinder his success by becoming obnoxious to others, — what more can he need ? His business is to make his fortune and enjoy himself more and more every year ; and this he can do perfectly well without being a better man. This, there- fore, need be no part of his concern. But with those who profess to look beyond the world, to whom the favor of God is of some consecjuence, as well as the opinion of men, and who soberly believe that virtue is better th:iu wealth, — with such as I am now addressing, — it should be the chief con- cern. Is it possible that they can have adopted Christ as 400 PROGRESS OF THE CHRISTIAN LIFE. their Master, and taken his religion as the great guide and blessing of their souls, knowing themselves to be immortal, and yet be satisfied to see their earthly condition prosperous while there are no signs of their souls' prosperity ? Surely the last must be their great anxiety and care, or they are strangely false to their principles. There is no incompati- bility between the two ; both may advance together ; but to strive only for the earthly is treachery to their principles. Alas ! then, how many such traitors are there ! But there "is another class. All do not, even in this pros- perous community, succeed in their anxious efforts to ad- vance themselves in the world. Many make no progress. They gain no wealth, they never enlarge their means of living and enjoyment, they live on as they began. Perhaps they are content with their lot. Many, it is well known, are perfectly so. They acquiesce in the allotment of Provi- dence, and quietly sit down where God has appointed them. But many more have tried to rise, and in vain. Are they satisfied then ? Do they content themselves ? Do they make no effort further ? Do they feel no regret, mortifica- tion, and longing? Surely not so. Waking and dreaming, they are haunted by the restless desire and the unquenched hope of reinstating their fortunes. And yet, though they know that their souls are equally far from prosperity, and that they have made no improvement in religious knowledge and virtue, it does not make them uneasy ; they are per- fectly willing it should be so. They are quite content to find themselves no better Christians ; but they cannot bear to find themselves no more wealthy. It was a beautiful wish of the disciple whom Jesus loved, when writing to a dear friend, " that he might be in health and prosper cvrn as his snid prospered." I fear it would be thought a strange wish now, even amongst those who esteem PROGBESS OF THE CHRISTIAN LIFE. 401 themselves very good disciples. They would uot under.st.ind how the prosperity of the soul is the first thing. Many, it is to he feared, do not even place it second. Business, money-getting, is first; their family, second; religion is postponed to the third place, at least, and very little honored in tiiat, if we may judge by its advancement in comparison with that of the other two. There arc undoubtedly other classes to be found, besides tiio.^e whom 1 have now named. They need iu)t be de- scribed. They leave but a small number to be found scat- tered among us, here and there, as we look around, whose business, aim, object, is the growth of their character, who live for the sake of the soul, and who evidently, markedly, become better men as they advance in life. We would not be cynicid in our estimate, but none can look around on so- ciety. Christian society, — recollecting with what capacities for goodness men have been endowed, and what induce- ments to progress toward perfection are always before them, — without a feeling of amazement, mortification, and alarm, at o!)scrving how few are growing, or striving to grow, in the virtues of the Christian life. So rare are such instances, that they are looked on, and spoken of, as bright exceptions ; and a measure of goodness which ought to be that of every man, nay, which all acknowledge to be still far short of what the Christian should be, is described, praised, and held forth to imitation as something extraordinary — as, indeed, beyond what men in general are expected to attain. " We are not to i rprrt to find others as good as he." This defective tone and condition of society is unques- tionably a great hinderance to those who are young in re- ligion. It presents to them, on tlieir first entrance to a new principle, instead of examples tliat stimulate to efilirt and excellence, and raise still higlier their impressions of the 34* 402 PROGRESS OF THE CHRISTIAN LIFE. purity and spirituality of Christian attainment, specimena of lagging, sluggish, moderate virtue, which countenance them in the most indolent exertions for improvement. As they look forward with the glowing mind of youth and the first beatings of awakened faith, the Christian life looks to them not only all light and glorious, but of a strict and holy austerity, and a scrupulous purity which has no part or lot with the ordinary follies of humanity — elevated above the world by a taste which has no pleasure in its perishing pur- suits, and a habit of exalted contemplation which dwells amid things unseen and eternal. They begin the race, therefore, with feelings of high aspiration. They take their place among the disciples with a romantic and earnest ex- pectation of finding in those privileged persons something, they know not what, of a celestial temper and beauty : they expect to be incited, cheered, instructed, by the very con- tact, and to find in the atmosphere in which they dwell the radiance and perfume of heaven. And if they could find it so, they would keep alive their own ardor, they would per- severe to realize their own exalted conceptions. But they find it otherwise. The image which they had conceived in their own minds of what the Christian man ought to be — an image whose features were all drawn from the life and teaching of the Great Master — is not at all realized in the worhl. No!)ody acts up to it. Nobody seems to have it in mind. The common standard is wholly below it ; and these young beginners find themselves alone, with an idea and purpose of a perfection which the more experienced smile upon as the extravngant dream of youth, which a few more days will show tliem to be impracticable in such a world as this. Thus the actual state of religious feeling chills the early blossoms of their religious char;icters; they find that much less ihun they had imagined is thought sufiicient by PROGRESS OF THE CHRISTIAN LIFE. 403 the older and wiser disciples, who must know much better than themselves ; that it is by no means requisite to follow Christ so nearly, or worship God so exclusively, as they had fancied ; they discover that, in fact, they have made as great attainments already as the world would bear ; to proceed further would be only to become singular : so they change their purpose, and remain where they are ; unwilling to be better than others ; satisfied with a measuje which seems to satisfy others, and glad to learn that the great work they had undertaken is so early completed. And thus each gen- eration does its utmost to repress the aspiration of the next, and to keep down the standard of virtuous attainment. So powerful is the example of the society around us, and such the influence of prevailing notions to modify our own, that few have courage or perseverance to follow the inward suggestion which urges them to rise higher. So that a dis- tinguished minister gave it as his earnest advice to a young friend, not to allow himself to be ordained as pastor of any church in wliich the standard of life was not very strict and high; because, as he urged, all experience shows how almost impossible it is for a young minister to escape con- forming himself to the sentiment around him, and being shaped more or less by the popular mould. If it be thus to be apprehended in the case of one all whose temporal in- terests urge him, no less than his eternal, to rise to the MARK, how much more must it be so with ordinary men, wlio are less protected by the circumstances of their posi- tion, and the daily duties of their calling. It is, therefore, evidently, one of the first duties of the young Christian to settle it in his mind that he has only commenced a work which is to be going on as long as he shall exist. Every thing in the example and experience of others around him proves how necessary this i^, for it proves how easily he may be made to forget it. 404 PROGRESS OF THE CHRISTIAN LIFE. There are also some mistaken notions respecting religion itself which may lead to the same error; the idea, namely, which so readily finds a welcome in the mind which is glowing with the first happiness of its early faith, that its glow cannot fade away ; that things will always appear to the soul just as they do at that divine moment ; that the new taste is fixed, and cannot be changed ; that it will take care of itself Hazardous and unfounded as such a feeling is, it is yet very natural. It belongs to all strong emotion to have faith in its own perpetuity. The affections always are con- fident that they never shall change ; and we always fancy that the grief, or love, or indignation, which fills our bosoms now, can never fade from them. When, therefore, we are awake to the vivid consciousness of our spiritual relations, and are overwhelmed with those various and mihgling emo- tions that take possession of the excited spirit, and blend there in all that is awful, tender, joyous, and serene — when we are confident that now, at last, we are tasting the highest gratification of which human nature is capable, that now, at last, we are in the state in which man ought to be, — a state in which things appear as they are, in their true rela- tions and proportions, and the common things of the world take rank among the insignificant and uninteresting, — we cannot doubt that these, the truest, will be the lasting feel- ings ; we cannot conceive it possible that any thing on earth should ever have charm enough to entice from this state ; that any of the things which we now know to be infe- rior should ever be able to withdraw us from what we now know to be supreme. This is the hearty, honest, deeply- seated conviction within us. This is the conviction which occasions the well-known confidence and presumption of young converts, which prompts to their proverbial forward- ness — a confidence and forwardness often attributed to un- PROGRESS OF THE CHRISTIAN LIFE. 405 worthy motives, and spoken of to their discredit. It may not be creditable to them ; yet it argues nothmg worse, perhaps, than self-ignorance. They do not know the evane^ cent character of the feelings, the deceitfulness of the heart; therefore they give way to it; they trust themselves; they spread all their sails to the wind, as if it would never change ; they fancy themselves established, and act warmly and boldly as if established. But this glow is necessarily tran- sient like all vehement feeling ; and when it has passed away, they have no abidi.ig principle of life to take its place and keep the work in progress. Other feelings rise up in the midst of the world; the brightness of the spiritual light fades from before the eye of the soul, and there is no advance- ment to a higher perfection. Let no one, therefore, from the strength and security of his first affections, allow himself to rest, as if the work were done. It is but begun. Let him settle within himself, deep- ly and sternly, the persuasion that it is to be going on while life lasts. For want of this it is that the love of so many has waxed cold, and that so many who put their hand to the ploucrh have turned back. If you would persevere, you must un°derstand, at the outset, the necessity of persever- ance. You must start with the conviction that you begin a perpetual progress. For which reason, instead of looking at the state of so- ciety, instead of conforming yourself to the model of those with 'whom you live, study into the nature and capacity of your soul, your destiny, and your responsibility ; imbue your mind with the spirit of your immortal faith, and the influence of the character of your holy Master ; and from the promptings of a soul thus filled and kindled, act out Christianity for yourself ; —not as others do, nor as others expect you to do, but as this state of mind impels you. 406 PROGRESS OF THE CHRISTIAN LIFE. There is no true and safe course but to be obedient to these suggestions of a mind wliicli has faithfully studied for itself into the doctrine and temper of the divine life. These sug- gestions are to it as the instinct of its immortal nature — as unerring, as safe, as the instincts of the lower orders of beings. Man's bodily instincts are as nothing, for his bodily interests are of little moment, and in pursuing the;n he has no need of an infallible guide. But the interests of his undying soul are of infinite consequence : in his search for them he needs an infallible guide ; and that guide he has in the promptings of his own mind, whenever he has culti- vated it with the deep study of truth and faith, and steeped it by faithful contemplation in the secrets of divine love and infinite purity, and brought it into intimate communion with the Holy Spirit of God. If you have truly acquainted your- self with your Master and his revelation, — if you have en- tered into their spirit with your whole soul, — then act your- seJf, freely, boldly, and you will not know what it is to stop short. This very action will be progress. CHAPTER II. ERRORS NOTICED AND CORRECTED, ESPECIALLY THE ERROR THAT THE CHRISTIAN LIFE IS NOT TO BE TAKEN UP EX- PRESSLY IS NOT TO HAVE A MARKED COMMENCE.MENT. Bi'.sioES the causes of error which are hinted at in the preceding chapter, there are others still more worthy of consideration. Of these I do not know that there is any PROGRESS OF THE CHRISTIAN LIFE. 407 more common or more detrimental than that which is the subject of tliis chapter. It is an error which arises natu- rally from the circumstances of birth and education in a Christian land, and from the idea that under such circum- stances the Christian character grows up of course, just as the social does, and perhaps as part of the social. It differs from that before mentioned in this, that, while that supposed the Christian character something to be formed by a certain process in a certain time, — to be done by the job and fin- ished at once, — this supposes that it is never any thing to be taken up as a distinct subject of attention, or to be made an express concern ; but is to be left to take care of itself, under those influences to which all are subjected, and be- neath which it will grow up spontaneously. This is a com- mon error ; it infects the great mass of nominal Christians ; it deceives and paralyzes even conscientious men, and keeps them from all progress by persuading them that the soul will grow of itself, as the body does. This error is so widely connected with misapprehensions respecting the origin and nature of the religious life, that it cannot be fully developed without a wide discussion. But it is of less importance thoroughly to do this, than to exhibit the error itself. It has no doubt been fostered by the man- ner in which the axiom has been received, that all safe prog- ress is gradual, that whatever is violent and sudden is un- natural -and unsafe — an axiom true in itself, when rightly understood, but very falsely applied in the present instance. Is not the progress of the daij gradual, it is asked ; and the progress of the seasons imperceptible ? Does not the seed germinate and spring forth without our being able to detect or trace it; growing night and day, we know not how; first the blade, then the ear, and then the full corn in the ear ? Are not all the beneficent operations of Provi- 408 PROGRESS OF THE CHRISTIAN LIFE. dence and nature thus? — never rapid, vehement, instanta- neous, but always gentle, quiet, gradual ? And, satisfied with this analogy, we sit down to wait the advancement of our character, just as we wait the progress of the season; as if we had only to sit and wait ; to do nothing to hasten or retard it j • as if its course was onward as inevitably as fate. We do not perceive that we advance ; but no matter : who sees the sun advance on the dial-plate? We have no consciousness of being in motion ; but, then, who sees the motion of the planets, or the increase of the blade of corn ? We are making no efforts: certainly not; for a growth, to be healthy, must not be forced. Who would have the sickly and short-lived produce of the hotbed 1 But even if we chose to follow strictly the analogy be- tween the insensible universe and the living moral soul, this mode of reasoning is unjustifiable. If we do not see the day come forward with our eyes, we perceive clearly, after an interval, that it has come forward ; and though our keenest sight does not detect the growth of the plant, we yet do see that it has grown ; and we should be extremely unhappy if the opening dawn should become stationary, or the grain and fruit should pause in the process of ripening. But those of whom I speak feel no uneasiness at the perception that their characters have become stationary ; they are not troubled when, at the greatest intervals, they still find that they have gained nothing. All is made quiet in their con- science at once by the sovereign pacifier, "O, we are not to expect great results: improvement must be gradual; the more gradual, the more sure." Has not this lamentable result been encouraged in many minds by the expression of a very eminent writer of great influence? — "that our Christian congregations contain two classes : to the one must be preached conversion, to the 1*R0GRESS OF THE CHRtSTlAN LIFE. 409 Other improvement " — an altogether just remark, which commends itself at once to every man's approbation. But how easily misapplied ! Every one, on hearing it, bethinks himself, of which class is he? "I do not need conversion ; I have been religiously educated ; always attended church, always read my Bible, always accounted myself a Christian ; I only need improvement. My case, then, is safe ; I am on the right side, and of course it will be for my interest to improve ; in fact, considering the advantages amidst which I live, I cannot fail to improve : 'tis not in the nature of man to live under such excellent preaching and with such facilities for reading and worship, and yet not improve." Thus perfectly satisfied with his situation 'and with himself, he folds his arms and does nothing. The current floats him along, and he does not dream that it can be to any other than the true haven. If I should address such persons, I would ask them if they do not presume too much, when they thus take it for granted that they do not need conversion. Does it by any means follow, because they have been educated under Chris- tian institutions, that they have availed themselves of them, and become Christians ? Because they have been taught to read the Bible from their childhood, does it follow that the spirit of that holy book has formed their characters? Cer- tainly this cannot be pretended. One may be brought up in the very recesses of the sanctuary, and yet be as corrupt as an abandoned heathen ; may believe that Christianity is from heaven, as the Hindoo believes that his ancestral faith is divine, and be in heart addicted to all that is unchristian. History and observation tell of but too many who have con- tended for the faith, and yet who had checked no desire, controlled no passion, at its bidding. It is not, therefore, impossible that many decent men may have been brought 35 410 PROGRESS OF THE CHRISTIAN LIFE. up amongst us to honor Christianity, who yet are far from being imbued with its spirit; that many may have a respect for its precepts and a jealous attachment to its forms, and yet be governed at heart by principles which it would disap- prove. Doubtless there are many such : they are willing to count themselves its friends ; they are proud to number themselves among its supporters ; and, being thus Chris- tians by birth, claim the right to be esteemed Christians indeed. But in order to be Christians indeed, they must be religious men ; and religious men they are not : they need to be converted to the influence of the faith they honor ; from the worldliness which governs them, to the per- sonal experience of the power of the truth, which as yet is a dead letter to them. They think they need only to go on : alas ! they have not yet begun. They have the very first step to take. They have the commencement to make. Is it not to be feared that many are living and dying amongst us in this very condition ? Is there not a quieting and deceptive influence in much of what passes for religious sentiment amongst us, producing the feeling that we have all begun — we have all entered the path of life — we have only to go on ? But it is not true that all have begun. How, then, can it be otherwise than dangerous to entreat all to go on ? How can they advance if they have not commenced I There can be no true and satisfactory progress unless we are sure that we have made a beginning, and a right be- ginning. Now, the great error is, that men are content without any proof thdit they have made a beginning. They are willing to assume this important and all-essential fact as a thing of course. They were born in a Christian land ; they believe Chris- tianity divine ; they are pretty good men ; they trust, through PROGRESS OF THE CHRISTIAN LIFE, 411 God's mercy, they shall be saved. But this does not prove that they have in any proper sense commenced the Christian life. What are their ruling principles? On what rest their affections ? Where are their motives, desires, and to what are their self-sacrifices offered ? Get an honest reply to these questions, and you find that the world still rules them. A faith in things spiritual, and a supreme surrender to God, they as yet know not. They have a brg inning yet to make. I hold it to be clear that no man can have done so im- portant a thing as to resolutely take up the Christian law for his guide, without a consciousness aflervvards that he has at some time distinctly done so. It is a very momentous act in a man's life when he assumes the obligations and respon- sibilities of the word of Christ, and says, " For this Master I live and die." He must know that he has done it. It is not a thing to be taken for granted — to be supposed. The bearings of this faith on his daily life in a thousand ways — its applications to his temper, his thoughts, his will, his habits of living and speech — are too direct and palpable to leave any doubt on the subject. The struggle between this spirit of allegiance to conscience and faith, and the fleshly appetites and worldly principles ; the trials, and falls, and recoveries, and shame, and joy, and all the various tumults of mind and heart, which the Christian pilgrimage implies, are all too distinct, too deeply felt, too strongly marked, to be forgotten, or to^allow room for conjecture, supposition, or any testimony but the heart's own consciousness. Many, very many, have been so situated in early life, and have been so formed by influences exclusively of the world, that they can at no time come to a Christian life without most con- spicuous and absolute change — a disruption of ft)rmer ties, a more or less painful abandonment of former habits, a strange and entire alteration of the favorite and ruling de- 412 PROGRESS OF THE CHRISTIAN LIFE, sires. Educated as most persons are, it is impossible that they should otherwise arrive at the Christian life ; and this change is an era to be remembered. It leaves deep marks on the history. And as for others, who have been favored with a more propitious lot, and whose minds have received the sanctifying influence of truth from the cradle, drinking in divine knowledge with their daily discipline, and imbued with the temper of Heaven through the power of the society and teaching of their early guides, — they, too, cannot have confirmed their early impressions excepting through efforts and struggles ; they must evidently know ; it cannot be left to them to take for granted. They may have the most infallible proof that they have actually made a beginning. But as for the great class of those who can produce neither of these proofs, how can they proceed ? They are grossly self-deceived. Their trust and hope are altogether without foundation. No wonder that they are content without progress. After assuming, without evidence, that they are Christians, it is a small thing to add the assumption that they move while they stand still. Here, therefore, 1 propose to my readers, that they insti- tute a solemn and thorough self-examination. Let each in- quire and know whether he is one of this very extensive class, who thus easily imagine themselves to be something when they arc nothing. If he has never yet doubted on the sahjoct, nor rigorously inquired, he has reason for ap- prehension. Let him dwell no longer in uncertainty, or content himself with conjecture. Let him ascertain whether he his actually made a religious beginning. If not, let him waste no time in studying how to make advaiucmmt. He has an earlier and more important work — to remove away all the heavy rubbish which, through his self-deception and PROGRESS OF THE CHRISTIAN LIFE. 413 long blindness, has been accumulating about him, and lay in earnest the foundation of a hearty faith, and a holy, heav- enly character. If he is not sure that he has already begun the Christian life, let him begin now, to-day, with a prayerful determination, with a devoted purpose, with a heartfelt self- consecration to God, and Christ, and duty. Let him leave this great matter no longer in suspense, this most momen- tous question no longer open, but let him bring his real character and his hidden motives into the light — the clear light of truth — by taking devoutly and resolutely, the first grand step, by performing the initiatory act of intelligently, distinctly, and with a single heart, dedicating himself to the service of his heavenly Master. CHAPTER III. - ERRORS NOTICED AND CORRECTED ESPECIALLY THE ER- ROR OF THOSE WHO FANCY THAT THE CHRISTIAN LIFE MAY HE SUSTAINED WITHOUT THE USE OF MEANS. I HAVE endeavored to expose the mistake of those who dream that the religious life has no beginning. I now turn to those who fancy that it may be sustained and sup- ported without the use of means. In stating their error thus, thare is absurdity on its very face, so great that it may be supposed impossible for any one to maintain such a position. And pcriiaps to the full extent none will venture to maintain it in terms, though we certain- ly hear language wlWch very nearly approaches the state- 3.5 • 414 PROGRESS OF THE CHRISTIAN LIFE. ment I have made, and daily witness conduct which is con- sistent with no other principle than that which such a state- ment involves. In fact, it is the tendency of the specula- tions and the practice of the day to make light of forms, to undervalue modes of operation, to speak of times, persons, places, ceremonies, as unessential, material, instrumental, — as crutches for the lame, leading-strings for the weak, guides for babes, — quite necessary to those who are so far wedded to the body that it clogs and impedes their minds; but wholly unnecessary to the soul itself; in fact, as badges of an inferior condition, as marks of spiritual backwardness, as the remnants of an earthly dispensation, and relics of the infancy of our race, which are fast becoming unneces- sary in this enlightened age, and which the truly enlight- ened had best dispense with at once. There is a good deal of loose thinking and talking of this sort. It is founded on a misapprehension of the real nature of the advancement of man in the present world ; as if cul- tivation and religion were making an actual change, not in his condition and advantages, but his very nature; relieving him of his dependence on the body, the senses, and the ma- terial world. Whereas, evidently, he must retain still his connection with them, his relation to them, and must be affected by them in his desires, appetites, habits, enjoy- ments, character — must act through them, and be acted on by them ; and so long as this is so, it is perfectly impos- sible that he should be able to maintain a purely spiritual existence, or to advance his spiritual character without aid from abroad. While this connection with the outward world perpetually operates on him to affect his temper and distract his affections, it is necessary to counteract it by ao-cnts and contrivances which also operate outwardly. While, every day, appetite must be indulged at stated hours, PROGRESS OF THE CHRISTIAN LIFE. 413 business done, and exciting thoughts, interests, and passions absorb his niiiid, he must every day have stated means of neutralizing their engrossing and infecting power, or they will obtain the mastery. How it may be wlien the soul shall be separated from its present connection with the body, we do not know. Per- haps then it may go on a course of holy progress without external aid, or stated help; though the Scriptures give no representations which warrant us to decide peremptorily that it is so. Certainly it is not so now ; and they who fancy it to be so, are taking the sure method to dwarf their own stature and chill their devout affections. There is, undoubtedly, a distinction to be made between religion and the means of religion — a distinction, the want of attention to which has led to great abuses, and been the parent of fanaticism and superstition. Forms and ceremonies have been exaggerated into the essentials of faith ; opinions have been made to take the place of charac- ter, and days and observances have usurped the respect which should have been paid to righteousness and true piety. In order to avoid this error of times past, it has be- come a favorite notion with many, that religion only, should have attention and honor — pure, unmi.xed, unaccotnpanied religion. They are to become religious; that is tlie great end ; they are to form perfect characters. Religion does not consist in saying one's prayers, attending church, olv- serving the Sabbath, sitting at the Lord's table, reading the Bible: these things are not religion. One may do all these, and yet not be religious — men have done all, scru- pulously, and yet been reprobates. These are but the means ; and if one be but a religious man at heart, it is of no consequence whether he scrupulously observe these means or not. Indeed, he had best avoid any approach to a 416 PROGRESS OF THE CHRISTIAN LIFE, Buperstitious regard for them ; it would belittle him ; it is best to have a great deal of freedom. One should not be a slave to certain hours ; he can pray at any time ; a prayer is just as acceptable at the workbench, and in the street, as at the altar ; and every day ought to be a Sabbath; one day has no more real sacredness than another. There is great danger of mistaking the means for the end ; we will pursue the end only. Common as something like this may be in the thoughts of many and the practice of more, it is yet wholly indefen- sible as a matter of reasoning, and utterly ruinous when applied to practice. Here and there a man may be found who can live on these principles uninjured ; but they are extraordinary men ; the great majority would infallibly be destroyed by them. They lead to a disregard of religious services, which will extend, in too many instances, to a disregard of religion it- self, and will often inevitably cause the Christian character to fall into decay, because the props which are necessary to support it are removed. So serious an evil deserves to be carefully considered. There can be little hope of gen- eral advancement or great attainment in religion, when such opinions are prevalent. Let it be considered, therefore, that although, abstractly and strictly speaking, there may be an essential distinction between an end to be gained and the means by which it is to be gained, — for all practical purposes there is no differ- ence whatever. If the result be desirable, and can be attained only through a certain process, that process is of precisely the same consequence as the result. If the affair be one of duty and obligation, the obligation to perform the process is as absolutely binding as the obligation to elfect the result. If I desire to hold an eminent rank in society, PROGRESS OF THE CHRISTIAN LIFE. 417 if I wisli to be a promoter of human gcwd in an iniportant profession, it is just as iniportant that I should pass tlirough the discipline of that preparatory education which fits fur tlie profession, as it is that I siiouhl enter on tliat profession. My usefuhiess and eminence depend o(|ually upon both. It is not enough, in order to the arrival of a steamship at a distant city, that the crew be at their posts, the engineer at his wheel, and the machinery all in beautiful order; the boiler must be filled and the fire kindled ; and he would be a stupid commander who should slight these because they are oidy means — who should say, that his object was to arrive at the city, and he was not to be busying himself about these little preliminaries to progress. Yet it would be hard to understand how there is any less stupidity in those who fancy themselves able to arrive at heaven, while they slight the appt)inted means of proceeding thither, as wholly secondary atfiirs. I ask, " Are you a student of the Scriptures? Do you daily and statedly pray? Are you fond of frequenting occasions of religious worship?" Your an- swer is, " O, no ! religion does not consist in these things. I am only careful about the great end ; that is all which I need to regard." That is to say, so long as you are resolved to arrive safely at the end of your journey, it is of no con- sequence whether the water, and the wood, and the fire, be applied to the boiler or not! " But," I add, '* one would imagine that your own feelings would prompt you to join in these religious observances and acts — that your own reli- gious state of mind and heart would lead you to take pleasure in them." *' Why, yes, sonnfimfs, now and then ; and thru it is well enough to attend and use them. But unless one happens to be dispusid to engage in them, it is not worth while to do so. It is only the great end which I am anxious about." " And thus," I reply, " caring only for the accorn- 418 PROGRESS OF THE CHRISTIAN LIFE, plishmrnt of your voyage, you have no rule but your incH- nations to decide when you shall feed the fire which is to carry you on." One would be glad to ask of the great men who have blessed the world with their light and action in any depart- ment of usefulness — especially one would like to ask of the apostles and reformers — how this doctrine would have op- erated in their case, and where the world would have been if they had been beguiled by it — if Paul, instead of his journeyings and toils that he might preach the gospel, and establish and organize churches, and so save men's souls and extend the kingdom of Christ in the world, had thought within hiuiself, " Preaching, and worship, and the Christian community, are only the means of salvation ; they are but secondary things in comparison with salvation : salvation, salvation, that is the great, prime, all-absorbing considera- tion ; and why should I be wearing out my life on the mere means ? " — or if Luther and the other men that have moved the world with their doctrine had sat silent, on the happy suggestion that ^>»rrrt/7«mo- is not religion — religion is the great thing to be regarded ! And yet, where is the man who can show that it would have been more absurd in them thus to have forsaken the preaching of the gospel, and the gathering of assemblies, than it is in any private man to for- sake the hearing of the word on the same pretence ? And yet there are men who practise and defend this un- speakable absurdity ! They think themselves good Ciiris- tians, and yet waste the hours of the Sabbath, are slack in their attendance on public worship, almost strangers to the Bible, without worship in their families, and without stated prayer in their closets; and, if yon expostulate with them, very soberly reply, that these things do not constitute reli- gion ; they care only fur religion itself And thus there is not PftOGRESS OF THE CHRISTIAN LIFE. 419 one of tlic means appointed for and essential to religious es- tablishment and growth wljich is not put by on this plea. It is evident enough, I tliiiik, that these means, if not parts of religion, are yet essential to it. But I go still far- ther. I ask if it be so unquestionable, as appears to be taken for granted, that they are not parts of religion. Is it so clear that the reading of the Scriptures, acts of devotion, and attendance on the ordinances, are not essentially, and in their own nature, parts of religion as well as means ? Let us look at this. What is religion ? Strictly speaking, it is something invisible, intangible, immaterial, — which has no shape, and is not cognizable by any human sense. Practi- cally speaking, it is a certain character — that state of mind, heart, and character, which become the relation in which a man stands to God. Now, I ask, what is that state of mind, heart, or character, without the expression of it ? Is not the expression of it, properly speaking, a part of it? Can we say that there is character where there is no manifesta- tion of it ? If we were consulting philosophical exactness of terms, perhaps this might be disputed ; but so far as regards real life and the conmion judgment of nien, it is doubtless correct. We know nothing of real benevok-nce of heart, if in no way manifested — nothing of uprightness and strength of character — nothing of intellectual power — except so far as rrprcsstd ; and this expression is always regarded as part of the character itself; it is the character acting. Now, religion is a certain state of mind, heart, and char- acter ; but if there be no manifestation of this state in action, neither the individual himself nor other men could be assured of its existence and reality. But what are the expressions, what the manifestations, of religion ? The most natural, perhaps the mo.st spontaneous, the most indu- 420 PROGRESS OF THE CHRISTIAN LIFE. bitable, is prayer. It is the expression of the religious heart to its God. It is the language of the devout mind. It is the action of the pious spirit. I cannot conceive, therefore, that any one should esteem prayer simply a means of re- ligion. It is a part of religion. It is an inalienable con- comitant. And it is represented, throughout the Scriptures, more frequently us an essential act of religion, — insep- arable from and inherent in a devout character, — than as a means of increasing the devotional temper, or of spiritual improvement. The same is true concerning the Christian ordinances. To express faith and newness of spirit by baptism, and to comnmne with the Savior at his table, are in themselves religious actions. To read the Scriptures, and devoutly meditate on the truth of God, and worship in his house, and listen to the preaching of his word, are religious acts, ex- pressions of a religious character, no less than means of increasing in Christian knowledge and holiness. It is, therefore, far from true that, in neglecting religious observances, we merely postpone the means to the end. They constitute, in their very nature, parts of that which we seek to achieve. They are natural expressions, manifesta- tions, of the religious character ; and one can hardly be authorized in imagining himself to possess that character, if it do not thus display itself. If it be still said that one may make his selection from these means, and use those which best suit his own case and satisfy his own want, it may be replied; Undoubtedly he may find greater edification in some than in others, and to such he may with peculiar interest apply. But he can hardly think himself at liberty to sllj:fht any, so long as all have been appointed by God, and are regarded as part of man's service to him ; so long, too, as each of them is only PROGRESS OF THE CHRISTIAN LIFE. 4'21 another mode of giving expression to that spirit whicli he professes to desire to cultivate, and which he ought to find pleasure in expressing. If these tilings be so, every man's duty becomes plain, and he can live in neglect of it only at the hazard of a great absurdity, which casts his soul into fearful peril. CHAPTER IV. THE YOUNO CHRISTIAN PUT ON HIS GUARD AGAINST THE HINDERANCE TO PROGRESS WHICH ARISES FROM DISAP- POINTMENT RESPECTING THE ENJOYMENT OF A RELIGIOUS LIFE. Among the hinderances against which the young Chris- tian may need to be put on his guard, we may mention, next, that arising from false expectations respecting tlie enjoy- ment of a religious life. The opening views of a religious existence are like those of youth, bright with vague antici- pations of the future, full of gtiy dreams, romantic and vis- ionary expectations. It is the youth of the soul, excited, ardent, confident, and painting the future in colors too uni- formly gorgeous to be true. Not that any extravagance of expectation can exceed the actual happiness which the Cliristian realizes in his established faith. Young Chris- tians do not, for they cannot, expect too much ; but they expect — as the Scripture says "they ask — amiss." They err as to the nature more than as to the degree of enjoyment They look for it in excitement, in strong emotion, in 3G 422 PROGRESS OF THE CHRISTIAN LIFE. ecstasy, in rapture. They expect to be forever in the same glowing frame of bliss in which they' are now, while the subject is all new and their feelings all fresh. The scales have just fallen from their eyes, the light has broken in upon their souls for the first time, and the scene that bursts upon their view is that of Elysium. They have no idea that fa- miliarity can ever render it less beautiful, or dull in any de- gree the emotion with which they gaze upon it. But it is a universal and inexorable law of nature, that familiarity tames the passionateness with which any object is regarded. The excitement of feeling goes down. The exaltation and frenzy of the mind subside. The pleasure may continue, but the rapture ceases. He, therefore, who proceeds to cultivate his religious na- ture under the expectation that it is to yield him a perpetual, sensible joy, is sure to be disappointed. It is not the nature of the mind to be capable of perpetual, unintermitted joy. In all cases in which the mind is wrought up to a high pitch of excitement, one of two consequences always results — either it becomes weary, and the interest of the subject is worn out by the intenseness of the action, — and this often happens in religion, where a most passionate devotion for a season ends in coldness, indifference, and worldliness, — or else, the excitement being modified and controlled by reason and principle, the mind settles down into a quiet, steadfast, gentle, and equable condition, without ecstasy, but full of content. And this, too, is what we see in daily examples of the judicious and confirmed believers. Many are made greatly unhappy, and fall into grievous despondency, for want of duly considering this. They find erelong that their frame of mind sinks. Not only have they no rapture, but they perceive with horror that occasion- ally even a lethargy of feeling comes over them, as if they PROGRESS OF THE CHRISTIAN' LIFE. 423 hud fairly exhausted tlio excitability of their mind. They read and pray with a calmness which frightens them — a calmness they in vain try to agitate ; and whereas they were shortly before lifted to the third heavens with delight, they now stand unmoved, as if the very pulse of celestial life had Stopped. The contrast appals them. They fancy them- selves deserted of God and all goodness. They feel them- selves abandoned and lost, and are ready to sink in conster- nition and despair. They had imagined, in their hours of exalted musing, that the love of the world was subdued; tint the power of its fascination was gone; that its follies and lusts, its pride and pleasures, having been seen once in their true light, could never have charms for them again ; and that the sinful feelings they had formerly excited could not be excited by them again. But, as they again move about in the actual scenes of the world, they find it far otherwise. The desires and appetites which they supposed to be dead, were only sleeping, and they suddenly wake. The passions and selfishness which they supposed subdued spring up vigorously, and would break their chains, and clamor for indulgence, as before, and, perhaps, in some un- guarded moment, seize on their gratification. All this as- tonishes and alaru\s them. They were not prepared for it. It is wholly unexpected. They find themselves deceived. They know not how to meet it. They are miserable. Their life is wholly a different one from that wliich they j)roposed to themselves — a life of watching, self-denial, and anxiety, when they hid been looking for nothing but peace and joy. They are disheartened, and perhaps abandon the path which promised them pleasantness and peace, but has yielded them weariness and pain. It becomes important, therefore, that the beginner should understand the nature both of Christian dutv and of Chris- 424 PROGRESS OF THE CHRISTIAN LIFE. tian happiness, that he may count the cost before he begins, and not fail through false and unreasonable expectations. Let him consider, then, that Christian duty is conformity to a law, and Christian happiness the result of that con- formity. This law governs the affections, as well as the conduct ; determines the whole state of mind and feeling, as well as of life ; and it is only when mind and feeling are conformed to this law, that the man is in the way of Chris- tian duty, — only then, therefore, that he is to expect happi- ness. And what happiness? That which belongs to the consciousness of having done duty ; that which grows out of and appertains to the state of mind which is attained ; — and that will be, of course, satisfaction, contentment, rather than ecstasy. The consciousness of being right, the assur- ance of the favor of God, — these, being abiding and habitual impressions on the mind, are likely to produce a calm peace, rather than a tumultuous delight. Then it is to be considered, further, that religion operates on the human mind upon similar principles with other sub- jects, and follows the laws and constitution of human nature. If, then, in respect to the question before us, the analogy of the other affections shows the same result, we ought to be satisfied. And undoubtedly it is so. The religious affec- tions are kindred to all the affections. That love which is the essence of religion is the same love which exhibits itself in the various relations of man, and is the source of the purest and strongest joys of earth, as it is to be of those of heaven. How intense and fervent the love of a mother for her child ! What sacrifices will she make for it, what toils endure, and how readily does her heart flutter and her eye overflow ! Yet there are times when that strong affection seems dead in her bosom, and we have often heard her say that it seemed to her as if she had no PHOGPESS OF THE CHRISTIAN LIFE. 425 feeling, as if she were an unnatural creature, from whom all natural affection had departed. Yet, meantime, unexcited as she is, she goes resolutely on, discharging her maternal duties, till some occasion calls forth again, the floods of tenderness. Slie did not blame herself — we did not blame her — for that habitual traniiuillity of feeling, for that tem- porary coldness ; — far from it. The cares of a large fam- ily never could go on, if the parent were agitated always with the intense feeling toward all tiie children which is the real measure of her love for each ; and we know that she gives as genuine proof of her affection where the work she does for then; takes her thouglits away from them, when she for- gets them for a season, because she is so busy for their good, as when she overwhelms them with caresses and tears. So, too, the father of the household. He leaves them in the morning, is absorbed witli the toilsome cares of his business, and may not be distinctly conscious of a thought or emotion going back to them during the day. Is it proved, then, that he does not love them? Time was, when the image of her who is now the mother of his children haunted him like a dream, mingled with all his thoughts, could not be, would not be, banished from his mind : it was like a light about him wherever he went, and a bliss in his thoughts however he was employed ; and thus his love was one per- petual living rapture. Because it is so no longer, does he therefore love her the less ? Nay, he loves her the more, — with a sober, steadfast, habitual confidence and affection, which has lost its passion, but has become an essential por- tion of his being, — intrudes on him less, but in its calm- ness and (juietness blesses him more. It is only the idle dream of romance whicii expects the rapture of the lover to be perpetuated in the sober certainty of waking bliss which makes the happiness of home. — And so of all the affections. 3(3* 426 PROGRESS OF THE CHRISTIAN LIFE. The religious affections go by the same law. When newly awakened and fixed on the great realities of God and eter- nity, they engross, and agitate, and absorb the soul ; there is no room for any other thought, affection, or care ; these fill and consume the whole being. But by-and-by the heart settles into a state of tranquillity ; and the man, occupied in obedience and duty, is excited less, and walks with his faith as an old and familiar friend. Let it, then, be no discouragement to the religious aspirant that familiarity with his new life has abstracted something from the keen relish it had at first. Let him learn to find an equal satisfaction in the moderate and unexciting life of tranquil duty, that he at first found in the strong emotions of the mind. Acceptance with God depends on the heart being right with him ; and as you do not judge of the right- ness of your child's affection toward yourself and the other children by its vehemence of expression, by its being easily called out in tears and vented in outcries, but rather by its steady and unobtrusive watchfulness for your wishes, and carefulness not to offend, and fidelity, and kindness, — so believe that *lie great Father judges of you, and approves you none the less because the strength of emotion with which you first came to him has subsided into an equable confidence and uniform obedience. And here I cannot refrain from saying a few words in relation to another source of discouragement, which often operates in connection with that, to the consideration of which this chapter is especially devoted. The Christian is very frequently disheartened, not only at finding less excitement and rapturous enjoyment in the religious life than he expected, but also at not discovering such obvious marks of progress in the advancing stages as at the commencement. But it is a very important truth for PROGRESS OP THE CHRISTIAN LIFE. 427 liim who is going forward in the Clirislian life to remember, that the growth of character foUows, in many respects, the analogy of all other growtli. In its beginnings it is more perceptible ; its progress in its first stages is more striking : an extraordinary difference is in a very short time no- ticed, after a man lia.s positively changed from worldliness to religion. But the succeeding steps become by-and-by less percejHihle ; and though actual, perhaps equ;U progress may be made in a mure advanced state of the Christian course, yet the work may seem to be almost stationary. An illustration of this may be found in the different appear- ances of motion in the rising and the meridian sun ; the former seeming to advance with rapidity, the latter hardly to move. Or take, for comparison, a work of art, a paint- ing. The arti.st takes a blank and unmeaning canvass. He sketches the outlines of his l)eautiful subject. A very short time suffices to exhibit great progress. The whole form and features come rapidly into view. But as he approaches towards the finishing of his work, he labors the more del- icate parts, he retouches, refines, perfects ; but it all makes little show : in truth, there may be more and more careful study, and anxious toil, and the highest efforts of his genius, and yet the amount of labor and thought, and the degree of improvement, be perceptible to none but a most observing and practised eye. So it is with the Chris- tian character the nearer it approaches to perfection : there may be great watchfulness, laborious self-discipline, toil for advanccmetit, and a perpetual addition of those delicate strokes, those hues and shades of spiritual beauty by which perfection is attained ; but no change shows itself, mean- while, to the common observer; the Christian seems to others precisely where he was a month ago, and he himself 428 PROGRESS OF THE CHRISTIAN LIFE. may be dissatisfied at not perceiving any obvious marks of growth corresponding with his arduous labors. Let the Christian, then, not be deceived. Let him be sure that he judges himself by a right standard. It is true that he ought not to be too easily satisfied of his improvement j but neither ought he to be discouraged through an irrational regard and judgment of his moral condition. When the oak was just springing from the ground, and rearing its stem in the increase of its first tender season, its growth of but twelve inches above the soil, whereon nothing but de- cayed leaves was manifest before, appeared conspicuous and considerable ; but now that it has waved its branches in the sunsiiine and winds of threescore summers, and sheltered two generations of men with its beneficent shadow, and nurtured innumerable tribes of living creatures in its kindly arms, it may add tlie same measure of increase in a year to each of its hundred gigantic limbs, with no perceptible eidargenient ; its real growth has been a hundred-fold what it was when most conspicuous to men, but no one observes or appreciates it. So it is with the Christian character : the more advanced its stages, the nearer it attains to perfection, its actual improvement, though greater than in the begin- ning, may nevertheless be less perceptible. In view of the discouragements alluded to in this chapter, and of all others that might be enumerated, I would say to him who has really entered on a religious life, " You have taken the only rational course, the only safe course, the only truly happy course: persevere unto the end; run with patience tlie race that is set before you ; fight the good fight, keep tiie fiith, lay hold on eternal life. Light is sown for the righteous, and gladness for the upright in heart." PROGRESS OF THE CHRISTIAN LIFE. 429 CHAPTER V. CONSIDERATIONS DESIGNED TO ASSIST THE CHRISTIAN IN THE SUCCESSFUL USE OF THE MEANS AND METHODS OP RELIGIOUS PROGRESS. In order to the successful use of the means of religious progress, so that they shall truly operate to a religious growlli, it is essential so to employ them as to create an equal, healthy development of the character in all its parts, so as to avoid the inconsistency and distortion which are the consequence of too exclusive devotion to some, and the comparative neglect of others. A perfectly well propor- tioned religious character is rarely to be found; but for that very reason it should be the more anxiously desired. Character is constituted of the state of the 'mind and affections, and the habits of life. These ought all to be in harmony with each other, — directed by the same princi- ples, exhibiting the same features, wearing the same com- plexion. If thoy disagree, there is a painful discordance perceived; something is wrong; there is neglect of duty, blame somewhere. Now, the means of cultivating and perfecting the right state of mind and affections are, primarily, meditation and prayer, and those mental exercises of contemplation, self- examination and study, by which the soul is directly wrought upon and raised to a spiritual fervor. Thus it ap- proaches to God, cherishes holy and benevolent desires, and comes to love and enjoy the things that are unseen and eternal. And when, from the seasons of contemplation and thought, the man goes into the scenes of active life, he 430 PROGRESS OF THE CHRISTIAN LIFE. carries with him this propensity to goodness, these desires to do well. He goes with a mind imbued with the senti- ment of devotion, and the spirit of dutifulness. Thus far, well. But the character is not yet complete : the habits of his active life make part of it. And what are they? Do they correspond with this internal frame? Are they in harmony with these principles and sentiments ? We are ready at first to ask, " How can they be otherwise ? " But we are soon reminded that it is often even so. It is common to witness lamentable inconsistencies between the feelings and the conduct. Some men appear to live two lives. They seem to have two souls. In private thought and in familiar converse they are devout men. Their sen- sibilities are quick ; their emotions are strong ; their sense of God lively ; and they greatly enjoy their seasons of devo- tion and reading. But in the routine of life they are worldly, grasping, self-indulgent, devoted to gain, neglectful of trusts and duties, and far inferior to many who have no religious sensibility, who find little enjoyment in retirement and reflection, but who have accustomed themselves to the most scrupulous fidelity in every passing hour of social life. It is to be with you, therefore, a matter of study and effort to carry the sentiment of the closet into action. The life of contemplation must not contradict the life of action. It is but partially that character is formed which is formed only by thinking, musing, and purposing. It wants the completeness of active habits. It wants the test which is to be found only in life. It wants the principle of growth which can be found only in action. And this is what is particu- larly to be considered in this connection — action is an essential and all-important means of religious groirtli ; so much so, that even the contemplative graces, the virtues of the mind, true affection, exalted principle, benevolent dis- PROGRESS OF THE CHRISTIAN LIFE. 431 positions, — which wc are ready to believe thrive best iu solitude; to cultivate which, multitudes have shut them- selves out from the world, that they might have nothing to do but to meditate, read, and pray, —even these fail of their true perfection unless quickened and ripened by action. For consider a moment. When the mind is thus excited and glowing with divine truth and virtuous thoughts, is it not all so much impulse to do something 1 Does not the desire spring up spontaneously, prompting to act, — that is, to express itself? But there is no opportunity to act, and the impulse is denied. It is excited again, and again de- nied. What is the consequence ? It is enfeebled. It be- comes less and less strong. It fades and dies from the soul. Generous impulses, not acted upon, perish ; the soul loses its sensibility, becomes callous. It has long been a familiar accusation against a certain sort of sentimental reading, that it tends to consume and waste the sympathies, and paralyze the affections, by highly exciting them, but allows them not expression in action, awakening the impulse, but refusing to gratify it. It is equally the case with all religious affec- tions. And it is easy to understand how they who trust to them as if sufficient, and take no pains to carry them out in act, may come to exhibit two distinct characters — ele- vated thought and glowing feeling, but selfish indolence of life and cold inactivity. Consider, therefore, that action is an essential means of religious growth. Follow out the highest impulses of your mind. Obey the suggestions of your conscience. Never deny the religious promptings of your feelings. Then you will establish the dominion of principle, the supremacy of conscience. Then all good feelings, having received their natural and intended gratification, will be encouraged and strengthened, because they have had th^r legitimate ex- ercise. 432 PROGRESS OF THE CHRISTIAN LIFE, Remarks to the same purpose may be made respecting the relation wJiich subsists between 2)rincipk and habit. Habit is a thing of tremendous power : it is sometimes om- nipotent in man ; and it is of the greatest consequence that its energies be as much as possible, and as easily as possi- ble, secured on the side of virtue. It may be the greatest helper or the greatest hinderance to improvement. It was intended to be the former ; and yet to how many, through life, does it prove the latter ? In how many men does virtue make toilsome growth, because clogged, thwarted, depressed, by unfortunate habits ! — habits formed in early life, established in the flesh, rooted in the affections, woven into the daily routine of conduct, till they become a part of the very nature ; and the {X)or wretch whom they enthral is bound down to a miserable insignificance of character, and yet is wholly unaware of their deleterious predominance. They are habits, for example, of luxurious living, of per- petual personal indulgence, of slothfulness, of mental inac- tion ; they are around him like a heavy and deadening atmosphere, through which his spirit has to make its way upward, and by which its flight is perpetually retarded. It has always been so, and he does not know it, or, if he knows it, how difficult to enforce the remedy ! But in most in- stances, he has no conception of the true nature of the evil which hinders him ; is not, perhaps, even aware of his grievous want of alacrity and progress — like the perpetual invalid, who has borne about with him from time immemo- rial a seated disorder which enfeebles him, but has no vifH lent symptoms, and who still engages in all the general duties of life, — without the vigor and delight that other men know, — but with all the vigor and delight that he ever knew, and therefore without any consciousness of the extent of Lis own deficiency ; and who never can be conscious how PROGRESS OF THE CHRISTIAN LIFE. 433 far he is below the vigor and .spirits of other men, except by being delivered from his aihnent and made like other men. So is it with him whose moral power is palsied by the un- propitious habits I have referred to : he never can know the degree in which they are an injury to him, until, having thrown them off, he sees how rapidly he rises without them. There is the greatest reason, then, that one should strictly examine himself in this respect ; that he may not be de- pressed forever by circumstances in his modes of life, of whose injurious influence he is ignorant, and which he might counteract if he knew them. But could he counteract them? It will not do to answer, No; and yet the difficulty is in many cases so all but in- superable, that we are ready to understand in its literal sense the words of the prophet, and believe that the under-, taking is as desperately hopeless as that of changing the leopard's spots, and the Ethiopian's skin. To take the most familiar example : there is the drunkard. He con- tinues such against his own will, in spite of his own resolu- tions, in contradiction to his own interest, tears, professions, purposes, principles. His bad habit is but the type of all bad habits ; a little more desperate, perhaps, because it has worked itself into every fibre of the body, and made its grat- ification to be clamored for by every organ and function, every muscle, sense, and nerve ; but all bad habits, in their place, exercise the same insane dominion. Sloth — is not the man ashamed of it ? does he not make vows against it ? does he not mourn at the ruin and disgrace it entails upon him? and yet he is slothful still. Ill-temper — does not the passionate mother, whose bursts of anger lead her to ill- treat the child that slie loves, blush at her own shame, and condemn herself with bitterness and tears ? and yet to- morrow the passion is her master again. Procrastination — 37 434 PKOGEESS OF THE CHBISTIAN LIFE, with what keen anguish, with what abiding sense of degra- dation, with what remorse for friends neglected, duties omitted, precious opportunities of usefuhiess passed br, and occasions of honor and improvement lost forever, — with what compunction and self-condemnation, with what torment of uniutermitting self-dissatisfaction, — does that inexplicable habit pursue its poor deluded victim! And yet remorse and shame, and a thousand injurious results, and the appeal even of sober principle, are vain. He still submits to his master, and will be wiser to-morroic. Other instances any one can add. And they suggest the fearful question, which almost staggers our hope as we reply to it — whether, in sober truth, a confirmed ill habit be not in- curable, and whether virtue have any prospect of gaining in the conflict. The best answer is found in the appeal to opposite facts. The worst habits in the most desperate cases, and under the most unpromising circumstances, have been corrected. The history of the Christian religion is filled with examples. It has shown its divine power in these triumphs, and proved, by the wonderful trophies of its grace, in the amazing con- versions from sin which it has wrought, that however des- perate may seem to be the struggle between principle and habit, vet the good is the stronger, and must prevail in the end, whenever it is faithfully and perseveringly supported. But how much faith and what long perseverance it demands ! From these extreme cases, then, the Christian, who is seeking improvement, must take both a warning and en- couragement — a learning that he examine his condition, and be fully acquainted with every circumstance in his modes of life which threatens this ruinous ascendency over his principle ; and an encouragement that, if he detect PROGRESS OF THE CHRISTIAN LIFE. 435 any which is interwoven with his whole being, so that to part with it is like parting with a right hand or right eye, he yet i*- able to do it, and to enjoy the happiness of de- liverance. He is especially to learn the great duty of seeing to it, from the first, that all his personal and social habits, his dis- position of time, the order of his affairs, the customs of his daily life and business, be such as to facilitate his virtuous purposes, — such as to make devotion and religion easy to him, — such as to make holy thoughts and benevolent actiohs always in place, never incongruous, never irksome, because evidently in the icay of other affairs. By this method, he should give to goodness the fairest chance of obtaining a complete ascendency over him. Principle, find- ing all the habits of life and mind congenial, would thrive, and strengthen, and assume the complete masterr. To make this yet the more sure, let him take pains directly to aid and encourage his principle; not only by bringing it forward and making it active on great emer- gencies, but by allowing it, nay, calling on it, to exert itself constantly ; giving it small tasks ; cheering it by the pleasure of small triumphs; and, in a word, by makincr even those lesser offices of duty and kindness, — which other men do of course, and without thinking, — by makincr even them matters of principle, — turning them into thoughtful acts of religious obedience, doing them because thev are consonant to faith, and are suitable to a spiritual and holy nature — whether he eats or drinks, or whatever he does, doing all to the glory of God, as to the Lord, and not to men. In this way, the full power of habit and all its noblest energies may be enlisted on the side of his im- provement. Because principle, being often called into action, and being made the supreme decidinsr authority, 436 PROGRESS OF THE CHRISTIAN LIFE. more frequently than, any thing else, the habit of acting from principle will become stronger than any other habit J will overcome, suppress, exclude every hostile habit : the opposition between principle and habit, which once so pal- sied the purpose and neutralized the efforts of virtue, will have ceased; and the forces once antagonistic, having become united in the alliance of truth, having become in fact one, there can be no longer any serious impediment to the onward progress of the soul. Being made free from sin, ye will become servants to God, and have your fruit unto holiness. CHAPTER VI. MAXIMS ON WHICH THE EXPECTATION OF RELIGIOIS PROG- RESS IS TO BE BUILT. Let us suppose that the low views and the erroneous principles on which the Christian life is too frequently made to proceed are set aside. We next go on to state the maxims on which the expectation of Christian progress must be built. And, first of all, it is evident that there must he a begin- ning. There is no such thing as setting out in the midst. There is a first step in every journey ; there is the com- mencement of life in every germ. The religious life of the soul can form no exception : it must have a first step, a commencement. Define it as you please, — let it be the act of the human reason alone, — let it be the moral char- acter as e.xhibited in daily life, — let it have no authority or PKOGRESS OF THE CHRISTIAN LIFE. 437 guide but tlic individual judgmciit and will ; still there must be a beginning somewhere, for the simple reason that the individual who exercises the judgment and will has a beginning; so that no one, by adopting a low idea of the nature of the religious life, can thereby escape the obliga" tion to ascertain whether he have started on the true career, nor assume that he came into it as a matter of course when he came into the world. For into wliat did he then come? Into those very hal)its of decent living which, in his view, are the Christian life ? Surely not. Those habits were formed at a tiuie when he had power to form the opposite habits; when he had the opi)ortunity to for Individuals; adapted to the various Ages and Condi- tions of Life. 13y Kev. Ch.vri,es Bkooks. 12mo. Cloth. 38c. 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