tihvavy of t:he t:heological ^tminary PRINCETON . NEW JERSEY PRESENTED BY John M. Krebs Donation BV 4243 .S25 1832 v. 2 Saurln, Jacques, 1677—1730. Sentons of the Rev. James Saur-ln, lato pastor o£ th« SERMONS OF THE REV. JAMES SAURIN, LATE PASTOR OF THE FRENCH CHURCH AT THE HAGUE. FROm THE FRENCH, REV. ROBERT ROBINSON, REV. HENRY HUNTER, D. D.; AND REV. JOSEPH SUTCLIFFE, A. M. A NEW EDITION, WITH ADDITIONAL SERMONS. REVISED AND CORRECTED BY THE REV. SAMUEL BURDER, A. M. Late of Clare Hall, Cambndge; Lecturer of the United Parishes of Christ Church, Newgate Streets and Sf. Leonard, Foster Lane, London. WITH A LIKENESS OF THE AUTHOR, AND A GENERAL INDEX. FROM THE LAST LOJVDOJV EDITION'. WITH A PREFACK BY THE REV. J. P. K, HENSHAW, D. D.; IN TWO VOLUMES— VOL. II. BALTIMORE. PUBLISHED BY PLASKITT & CO., and ARMSTRONG «t PLASKITT. 1832. CONTENTS OF THE SECOND VOLUME. Page 3 - 52 68 j 64 i 71 j 82 I 92 98 - 108 115 Sermon LII. — Christian Casuistry, Sermon LIII. — The necessity of Progres- sive Religion, - - - - - Sermon LIV.— The Moral Martyr, Sermon LV. — The Fatal Consequences of a Bad Education, - - - - Sermon LVI. — General Mistakes, Sermon LVII. — The Advantages of Piety, Sennon LVIH. — Tlio llcpcntancc of the Unchaste Woman, - - - - Sermon LIX. — Tlio Vanity of attempting to oppose God, SermonLX. — Imaginary Schemes of Hap- piness, _-._._ Sermon LXI. — Disgust with Life, Sermon LXII. — Tlio Passions, Sermon LXIII. — Transient Devotions, f- Sermon LXIV.— The diflerent Methods of Preachers, _ - . - - Sermon LXV. — The Deep things of God, Sermon LXVI. — Tlio Sentence passed upon Judas by Jesus Christ, Sermon LXVII. — The Cause of the De struction of Impenitent Sinners, - Sermon LXVIIL— The Grief of the Righ- teous for the Misconduct of the Wicked, 121 An Essay on the Conduct of David at tlie Court of Achisji, . - . . Sermon LXIX.— The Song of Simeon, - 140 Sermon LXX. — Ciirist's Valedictory Ad- dress to his Disciples — Part I. Sermon LXX. — Christ's Valedictory Ad- dress to his Disciples — Part II. Sermon LXXI. — Christ's Sacerdotal Pray er — Part I. . _ - . . Sermon LXXI. — Clu-ist's Sacerdotal Pray- er— Part II. Sermon LXXII.— The Crucifixion— Part I. Sermon LXXII.- The Crucifixion— Part II. Sermon LXXIIL— Obscure Faith— Part I. Sermon LXXIIL— Obscure Faith— Part II. Sermon LXXIV.— The Believer exalted together with Jesus Christ — Part I. Sermon LXXIV.— The Christian a Par- taker in the E.xaltation of Jesus Christ —Part II. Sermon LXXV. — For a Communion Sab- bath—Part I. Sermon LXXV. — For a Communion Sab- bath—Part II. 193 Sermon LXXVI— The Rapture of St. Paul— Parti. Sermon", LXXVI— The Rapture of St. Paul— Part II. .... Sermon LXXVI.— The Rapture of St. Paul— Part III. .... Sermon LXXVII. — On Numbering our Days— Part I. - - - - 209 129 147 - 151 156 159 165 169 173 177 181 185 190 200 203 207 Page Sermon LXXVII. — On Numbering our Days— Part II. - - . - 214 Sermon LXXVIIL— The true Glory of a Christian — Part I. - - - -218 Sermon LXXVIIL— The true Glory of a Ciiristian— Part II. - . . - 222 Sermon LXXIX. — On the Fear of Death —Parti. 225 Sermon LXXIX.— On the Fear of Death —Part II. 229 Sermon LXXIX.— On the Fear of Death —Part III. 232 Sermon LXXX.— On the Delay of Con- version — Part I. . - - - 241 Sermon LXXX. — On the Delay of Con- version — Part II. - - - - 251 Sermon LXXX. — On the Delay of Con- version — Part III. - . - - 260 Sermon LXXXI. — On Perseverance, 271 Sermon LXXXII. — On the Example of the Saints — Part I. ... 278 Sermon LXXXIII. — On the Example of the Saints — Part II. - - _ 285 Sermon LXXXIV. — St. Paul's discourse before Felix and Drusilla, - - 293 Sermon LXXXV. — On the Covenant of God with the Israelites, - - - 310 Sermon LXXXVI.— The Seal of the - Covenant, - . . _ . 307 Sermon LXXXVIL— The Family of Je- sus Christ, . - - _ _ 313 Sermon LXXXVIIL— St. Peter's Denial of his Master, . _ - _ 320 Sermon LXXXIX.— On the Nature of the Unpardonable Sin, ... 327 Sermon XC. — On the Sorrow for the Death of Relatives and Friends, - 334 Sermon XCI.-.On the Wisdom of Solomon, 341 Sermon XCII — The Voice of the Rod, 347 Sermon XCIII. — Difficulties of the Chris- tian Religion, - . - . 355 Sermon XCIV. — Consecration of the Church at Voorburgh, _ . - 363 Sermon XCV. — On Festivals, and parti- cularly on the Sabbath-Day, - - 370 Sermon XCVI. — The calamities of Eu- rope, ...--. 377 Sermon XCVII.— A Taste for Devotion, . 384 Sermon XCVIII. — On Regeneration — Part I. 391 Sermon XCVIII. — On Regeneration — Part II. 394 Sermon XCVIII. — (now first trans- lated.) The Necessity of Regenera- tion—Part III. - - - - 400 Sermon XCIX. — (translated by M. A. BURDER. NOW FIRST PRINTED.) The Conduct of God to Men, and of Men to God, 411 Sermon C. — The Address of Christ to John and Mary, .... 417 SERMON LU. rsiiïc CHRISTIAN CASUISTRY. *%s Proverbs iv. 26. Ponder the path of thy feet, and all thy toays shall be established. The sentence which we have now read, in- cludes a subject of immense magnitude, more proper to fill a volume, than to be comprised in a single sermon; however, we propose to express the subject of it in tliis one discourse. When we sliall have explained the subject, we will put it to proof; I mean, we will apply it to some religious articles, leaving to your pioty the care of applying it to a great number, and of deriving from the general application this consequence, if we " ponder the paths of our feet, all our ways will be established." I suppose, first, you affix just ideas to this metaphorical expression, " ponder the path of tiiy feet." It is one of those singular figures of speech, which agrees better with the genius of the sacred language than witli that of ours. Remark this once for all. There is one among many objections made by the enemies of reli- gion, which excels in its kind; I mean to say, it deserves to stand first in a list of the most extravagant sophisms: this is, that there is no reason for making a difference between the genius of the Hebrew language and the idiom of other languages. It would seem, by this objection, that a book not originally written in the idiom of the language of scepticism can not be divinely inspired. On this absurd principle, the Scripture could not be written in any lan- guage; for if a Greek had a right to object against inspiration on this account, an Arabian, and a Persian, and all other people have the same. Who does not perceive at once, that the inspired writers, delivering their messages at first to the Jews, " to whom were committed the oracles of God," Rom. iii. 2, spoke pro- perly according to the idiom of their language? They ran no risk of being misunderstood by other nations, whom a desire of being saved should incline to study the language for the sake of the wisdom taught in it. How extravagant soever this objection is, so extravagant that no infidel will openly avow it, yet it is adopted, and applied in a thousand instances. The book of Canticles is full of figures opposite to the genius of our western languages; it is therefore no part of the sacred canon. It would be easy to produce other examples. Let a modern purist, who affects neatness and accuracy of style, and gives lec- tures on punctuation, condemn this manner of speaking, " ponder the patii of thy feet;" with all my heart. The inspired authors had no less reason to make use of it, nor interpreters to affirm, that it is an eastern expression, which signifies to take no step without first delibe- rately examining it. The metaphor of the text being thus reduced to truth, another doubt arises concerning the subject, to which it is applied, and this requires a second elucidation. The term step is usually restrained in our lan- guage to actions of life, and never signifies a mode of tliinking; but the Hebrew language gives this term a wider extent, and it includes all these ideas. One example shall suffice. " My steps had well nigh slipped," Ps. Ixxiii. 2, tiiat is to say, 1 was very near taking a false step; and what was this step? It was judging that the wicked were happier in the practice of licentiousness, than the righteous in obeying the laws of truth and virtue. Solomon, in the words of my text, particularly intends to regu- late our actions; and in order to this he intends to regulate the principles of our minds, and the affections of our hearts. " Ponder the path of thy feet, and all thy ways shall be established," for so I render the words. Examine your steps deliberately before you take them, and you will take only wise steps; if you would judge rightly of objects, avoid hasty judging; before you fix your affection on an object, examine whether it be worthy of your esteem, and then you will love nothing but what is lovely. By thus following the ideas of the Wise Man, we will assort our reflections with the actions of your lives, and they will regard also, some- times the emotions of your hearts, and the operations of your minds. We must beg leave to add a third elucida- tion. The maxim in the text is not always practicable. I mean, there are some doctrines, and some cases of conscience, which we cannot fully examine without coming to a conclusion, that the arguments for, and the arguments against them, are of equal weight, and conse- quently, that we must conclude without a con- clusion; weigh the one against the other, and the balance will incline neither way. This difficulty, however, solves itself; for, after I have weighed, with all the exactness of which I am capable, two opposite propositions, and can find no reasons sufficient to determine my judgment, the i)art I ought to take is not to determine at all. Are you prejudiced in favour of an opinion, so ill suited to the limits which it has pleased God to set to our know- ledge, that it is dangerous or criminal to sus- pend our judgments! Are your consciences so weak and scrujjulous as to hesitate in some cases to say, 1 do not know, I have not deter- mined tiiat question? Poor men! do you know yourselves so little? Poor Christians! will j'ou ahva_vs form such false ideas of your legislator? And do you not know that none but such as live perpetualh' disputing in the schools make it a law to answer every thing? Do you not CHRISTIAN CASUISTRY. [Ser. LH. know, that one principal cause of that fury, which erected scaffolds, and Hghted fires in the churcl), that ought to breathe nothing but peace and love, was a rash decision of some questions which it was impossible for sensible men to determine» Are you not aware that one of the most odious ideas that can be formed of God, one the least compatible with the emi- nence of his perfections, is, that God requires of us knowledge beyond the faculties he has given us? 1 declare I cannot help blushing for Christians, and especially for (;hristians cultivated as you are, when 1 perceive it need- ful to repeai this principle, and even to use precaution, and to weigh the terms in which we propose jt, lest we should oft'end them. 'J'o what then are we reduced. Great God, if we have the least reason to suspect that thou wilt require an a£count, not only of the talents which it has pleased thee to commit to us? To what am I reduced, if, having only received of thee, my Creator, a human intelligence, thou wilt requ^fl of me angelical attainments? — Whither ara I driven, if, having received a body capable of moving only through a certain space in a given Itime, thou Lord, requirest me to move with the velocity of aerial bodies? At this rate, when thou in the last great day shalt judge the world in righteousness, thou. Judge of the whole earth, wilt condemn me for not preftclung the gospel in Persia, the same day and the same hour in which i was preaching it in this assembly! Far from us be such de- tectable opinions! Let us adhere to the senti- ments of St. Paul, God siiall judge the Gentile according to what he has conuniltod to the Gentile; the Jew according to what he has committed to the Jew; the Christian according to what he has committed to the Christian, Thus Jesus Christ, " Unto whomsoever much is given, of him much shall be required; and to whom men have commilled much, of him they will ask the more," Luke xii. 48. Thus again Jesus Christ teaches us, tliat God will require an account of five talents of him to whom he gave five talents, of two talents ol'liim to vvliom he gave two, and of one only of him to whom he gave but one. What did our lledeeincr mean when he put into llie mouth of the wicked servant this abominable prele:st for neglecting to im|)rove his Lord's talent' " Lord, 1 knew thee that thou art a hard man," or, as it may be better translated, a barbarous man, " reaping where thou hast not soyvn, and gatheriug wliere thou hasl notstravved." 1 return l« iny sul)- ject. When we have examiued two cun)ra- dictory doctrines, and can obtain no re:usons suthcient to determine our judgment, our pro- per part is, to suspend our judgment of the subject, and not to determine it at all. li will be said, that, if this he pos.siblo in regard to spéculative points, it is n(jl applicable to"matters of pracliiT. Why not' Such cases of couscionco as are the most embarrassing are precisely those which ought to give us the lexsl trouble. This proposition njay appear a parado.x, but I think 1 iorluiie, all his hero- ism public robbery, fatal to the public, and more so to Cesar hinisclf. J5ut, in order to be saved, it is necessary to succeed; and their is no other way of obtaininir salvation, except that laid down by this great general, "thinkin"- nothing done, while there is any Ihinir to do." Behold, m the words of our text, behold a man, who perlectly knew the way to heaven, a man most sincerely aspiring to salvation. What does he to succeed? What we have said; he counted all he had done nothing, while there remained any thing more to do. After he had carried virtue to its highest pitch, after he had made the most rapid progress, and obtained the most splendid triumphs in the road ol" salvation, still he ran, still he fought, he undertook new niorti- lications, always fearing lest lukewarniness and indolence should frustrate his aim of obtaining the prize which had always been an object of his hope; " 1 therefore so run, not as inicertainly; so fight I, not as one that beateth the air. But 1 keep under ïny body, and bring it into sub- jection: lest that by any means, when I have preached to others, 1 myself should be a cast- away." fcjt. Paul lives no more. This valiant chain- fiion has already conquered. But you, you Christians, are yet alive; like him, the ra("e is o|)cn before you, and to you now, as well as to hiin formerly, a voice from heaven cries, "To him that overcometh will I grant to sit with me in my throne," Rev. iii. 21. Happv, il" animated by his e.xamiile, you share with liim a prize, which loses nothing of its excel- lence, by the number of those who partake of it! Happy, if you be able one day to say with him, "1 have fought a good fight, I have finished my course, I have kept the faith. Henceforth there is laid u|) for me a crown of righteousness, which the Lord the righteous Judge shall give me at that day, and not to me only, but onto all them that love his appear- ing," 2 Tim. iv. 7, 8. Let IIS first make a general remark on the exiiressions of the text; they are a nianili;st al- lusion to the games which were celebrated among the heathens. Fable, or history, tells IIS. that i'elops invented them, that Hercules and AtrcuR brought them to perfection, that Iphitus r<;stored theui; ;ill which signify very little to us. What is certain is, that these giunes were celebrated w ilh groat pomp. They were so .«oleiini among the C! reeks, that they made use of them to mark memorable events and public eras, that of consuls at Kome, of archoiis at Athens, of priestesses as Argos. They passed from Greece to Italy, and were so much in vague at Rome, that an ancient author said, two things wore necessary to tlio Roman people — bread and public shows. It is needless to repeat here what learned men have collected on this subject, we will remark only what may serve to elucidate our text,, all the ideas of which are borrowed from these exercises. 1. In these games the most remarkable ob- jects was the course. The ground, on which the games were celebrated, was marked out with great exactness. In some places line» were drawn, and the place of combat railed, and when he who ran went beyond the line^ he ran to no purpose. It was dangerous to" ramble, especially in some places, as in Greece, where the space was bounded on one side by the river Alplieiis, and on the other by a sort of chevaux de frise, as at Rome; where before the construction of the circus, which was after- ward built on purpose for spectacles of this sort, an area was chosen, on one side of which was a chevaux de frise, and on the other the Tiber, so that the combatant could not p;iss the bounds prescribed to him without exposing himself to the danger either of being wounded by the spikes, or drowned in the waves. This is the first emblem, which our apostle uses here; " I run," alluding to the course in gene- ral; " I do not run uncertainly," in allusion to such combatants as, by passing the boundaries, lost the fruit of their lai)our. 2. Among other games were those of wrest- ling and boxing. Address in these combats consisted in not aiming any blow which did not strike the adversary. He who had not this address, was said to " beat the air;" and hence came the proverb " to beat the air," to signify labouring in vain.* This is the second allusion of St. Paul, " 1 fight, not as one that beateth the air." 3. The combatants observed a particular re- gimen, to render themselves more active and vigorous. The time, the quantity, and the riii- ture of their aliments were prescribed, and they punctually complied with the rules. They laid aside every thing likely to enervate them. " Would you obtain a prize in tlie Olympic games'" said a i)agan philosopher, " a noble design! But consider the preparations and consequences. You must live by rule, you must eat when you are not hungry, you must abstain from agreeable foods, you must habitu- ate yourself to suflcr heat and cold; in one word, you must give yourself up entirely to a physician."! Ry these means the combatants acquired such health and strength, that they could bend with the greatest ease such bows as horses could hardly bend; hence the " health of a champion" W!is a common proverb| to ex- press a strong hale state. As this regimen was exact, it was painful and trying. It was ne- cessary not only to surmount irregular desires, but all those exercises must be positively prac- tised which were essential to victorious com- batants: it was not sulficient to observe them a little while, they must be wrought by long pre- paration into habits, without which the agility and viginir acquired by repeated labours would be lost; witness that famous champion, who, after he had often and gloriously succeeded, * Euslat. in Homer. Iliml. t Kpiet. cap. 36. Voi. I'lal. or Ifcibu», lib. 8. ] llur. Art. Poet. Juliau ilc Laud. CousL Orat. i. Ser. LIII.l PROGRESSIVE RELIGION. 11 was sliamefuUy conquered, hocauso he had ne- glected the reffimen for six montlis, during wliiclt time a domestic affair had obh^ed liiiii to reside at Alliens.* This is tlie third allusion which our apostle makes in the text, " I keep under my body, and hrinens it, his conversion is affected in a moment. " I went not up to Jerusalem," said he; " I conferred not with flesh and blood," Gal. i. 16, IT. What a fund of virtue instantly had this man in his heart! Of all characters in life there are few so respectable as that of a real proselyte. A man wlio changes his religion on pure prin- ciples, has a greatness of soul above common men. I venture to advance this general max- im, that a man who changes his religion, must be consummate either in virtue or vice. If he be insincere, he is a wretch; if he be not a wretch, he is a hero. He is a hero if his virtue be sincere, if he makes generous efforts to correct errors imbibed in his earliest youth, if he can see without trembling that path of tri- bulation whicii is generally opened to such as forsake their religion, and if lie can bear all the suppositions which are generally made against them who renounce the profession of their ancestors; if, I say, he can do all this, he is a hero. On the contrary, none but a wretch can embark in such an undertaking, if he be destitute of the dispositions necessary to suc- cess. When such a man forsakes his former profession of religion, there is reason to suppose that human motives have done what love of truth could not do; and that he embraces his new religion, not because it appears to him more worthy of his attention and respect, but because it is more suitable to his interest. Now to embrace a religion for worldly interest is almost the highest pitcii of wickedness. Our maxim admits of very few exceptions, and most proselytes are either men of eminent virtue or abandoned wretches; and as we are happy to acknowledge there are several of the first kind in this age, so with sorrow we are obliged to allow, that there are a great number of the latter. Let St. Paul be judged by tl>e utmost rigour of this maxim. Ho was a hero in Christianity. The principle that engaged him to embrace the gospel, diffused itself through all his life, and every one of his actions verified tiie sincerity of his conversion. St. Paul was born for great tilings; he it was whom God chose for an apostle to the (tcntiles. He did not stop in the porch of the Lord's house, he quickly passed into the holy place; he was only a very short time a catechumen in the school of Christ; he soon became a master, a minister, an apostle; and in all these Sep. lui.] PROGRESSIVE RELIGION. 13 eminent offices he carried virtue to a higher pitch than it iiad over been carried before liim, and perliaps beyond wiiat it will ever be prac- tised after him. In effect, what (jualities ought a minister of the gospel to possess which St. Paul did not possess in the highest degree.' Is it assiduity.' " Ye remember, brethren," said he, " our labour and travel, for labouring night and day we preached unto you the gospel of God," 1 Thess. ii. 9. Is it gentleness.' " We were gentle among you, even as a nurse cher- ishetb her children. You know how we e.\- horted, and comforted, and charged every one of you, as a father doth his children, that yo would walk worthy of God," chap. ii. 7. 11, 12. Is it prudence? " Unto tlie Jews I l)e<:ame as a Jew, that I might gain the Jews; to them that are without law as without law, that I might gain them that are without law. I am made all things to all men, that I might by all means save some," 2 Cor. i.v. 20. 22. Is it charity.' " I could wish that myself were ac- cursed from Christ for my brethren," Rom. ix. 3. " I will very gladly spend and be spent for you," 2 Cor. xii. 15. Is it courage.' He resisted St. Peter, and " withstood him to the face, because he was to be blamed," Gal. ii. 11. " He reasoned of righteousness, temper- ance, and judgment to come, before Felix and Drusilla," Acts xxiv. 25. Is it disinterested- ness in regard to the world.' " We sought not glory of men, neither of you, nor yet of others. We speak the gospel not as pleasing men, but God, which trieth our hearts," 1 Thess. ii. 6. 4. Is it zeal.' " His spirit was stirred in him at Athens, when he saw the city wholly given to idolatry," Acts xvii. 16. Then, like the prophet of old, he became " very jealous for the Lord of hosts," 1 Kings xix. 10. Is it to support the honour of his ministry.' "Let a man so account of us, as of the ministers of Christ," 1 Cer. iv. 1. "We are ambassadors for Christ, as though God did beseech you by us," 2 Cor. V. 20. " It were better for me to die, than that any man should make my glory- ing void," 1 Cor. ix. 16. Jesus Christ was the model, by which St. Paul formed him.self ; " be ye followers of me, even as 1 also am of Christ," chap. xi. 1. When students turn their atten- tion to the Christian ministry, models of such as have distinguished themselves in this office are proposed to their imitation. The imagina- tion of one, the judgment of another, the gra- vity of a third, and tlie learning of a fourth are set before them, and from good originals very oflen we receive bad copies. St. Paul chose his pattern. His master, his model, his original, his all, was Jesus Christ; and he copied every stroke of his original, " be ye followers of me, even as I also am of Christ." But, though it is always commendable to discharge this holy office well, yet it is par- ticularly so in some circumstances; and our apostle was in such, for he officiated when the whole world was enraged against Christians. Consider him then on the stage of martyrdom. What would now be our glory was then his disgrace; assiduity, gentleness, zeal, and all the other virtues just now mentioned, drew upon him the most envenomed jealousy, accu- sations the most atrocious, and persecutions the most cruel. It was in this light, God set tlie mmistry before him at first, " I will show him how great things he must suffer for my name sake," Acts ix. IG. Show him how great tilings he must suffijr for my name sake! What a motive to engage a man to undertake an office! Now-a-days, in order to give a great idea of a church, it is said, it has such and such advantages, so mucli in cash, so m\ich in small tithes, and so much in great tithes. St. Paul saw tlie ministry only as a path full of thorns and briars, and he experienced, through all the course of his life, the trutii of tliat idea which was given him of his office. Hear the catalogue of his sufferings. " Of the Jews five times received I forty stripes save one. Thrice was I beaten with rods, once was I stoned, thrice I suffered shipwreck; a night and a day have I been in the deep. In journeyings often, in ])erils of waters, in perils of robbers, in perils by mine own countrymen, in perils by the heathen, in perils in the city, in perils in the wilderness, in perils in the sea, in perils among false brethren; in weariness and painfulness, in watchings often, in hunger and lliirst, in fastings often, in cold and nakedness," Î Cor. xi. 24—27. Good God! What a salary for a minister; hunger, thirst, fastings, nakedness, peril, persecution, death! In our case, we can die but once, and virtue considers the proximity of the crown of righteousness, which being suspended immediately over the head of the martyr, supports him under the pains of mar- tyrdom; but the ministry of St. Paul was a perpetual martyrdom; his life was a continual death. " I think that God hath set forth us the apostles last, as it were appointed to death. For we are made a spectacle unto the world, and to angels, and to men," 1 Cor. iv. 9. Here we finisli the eulogium of our apostle, and, by uniting the parts of this slight sketch, we obtain a just portrait of the man. Do you know a greater than St. Paul.' Can you con- ceive virtue in a more eminent degree.' Behold a man fired with zeal, making what he thought tlie cause of God his own cause, God's enemies his enemies, the interest of God the interest of himself. Behold a man, who turns his atten- tion to truth, and, the moment he discovers it, embraces, and openly avows it. Behold a man who, not content to be an ordinary Christian, and to save himself alone, aspiring at the glory of carrying througii the wiiole world for public advantage, that li^ht which had illuminated himself Behold a man preaching, writing; what am I saying.' Behold a man suffering, dying, and sealing with his own blood the truths he taught. An ardent zealot, a sincere convert, an accomplished minister, a bleeding martyr, learned in his errors, and, if I may be allowed to speak so, regular in his mistakes, and virtuous even in his crimes. Show me in the modern or primitive church a greater cha- racter than St. Paul. Let any man produce a Christian who had more reason to be satisfied with himself, and who had more right to pre- tend that he had disciiarged all his duties. Yet this very man, this Paul, " forgat those things which were behind!" This very Paul was " pressing forward!" This is the man who feared he should " be a cast-away!" And you, "smoking flax," you "bruised reed," you, who have hardly taken root in the Christian 14 THE NECESSITY OF [Ser. Lin. Boil, you, who haVe hardly a spark of love to God, do you tliink your piety suffirient! Are you the man to leave off endeavouring to make new advances! Perhaps you may say, the text is not to be taken literally, it is the langua^rc of liumiiity, and resembles what St. Paul s;iys in another place, I am the " chief of sinnei-s;" ajrrecabiy to his own direction, tliat each ('iirislian *' should esteem another belter tiian him.self," and which he calls, very justly, " lowliness of mind." No such thinjr, my brethren, you will be convinced of the contrary by tlio follow injj reflections. 2. We ground the necessity of progressive religion on tiie great eiul of (Christianity. Form, if it be possible, a ju.st notion of C'liristianity. I say if it be possible; for wo have an unacfounl- able reluctance to understand our own religion. We have all a strange propensity to disguise the character of a true Christian, and to keep ourselves ignorant of it. We have the holy Scriptures, and in them the gospel plan of re- demption before our eyes every day; and every day we throw over them a variety of preju- dices, which suppress the truth, and prevent us from seeing its beauty. One forms of Chris- tianity an idea of indolence and relaxation, and, under pretence that the gospel speaks of mercy and grace, persuades himself that he may give a loose to all his natural evil dispositions. Another imagines the gospel a body of (lisci[>- line, the principal design of which was to regu- late society; so that provided we be pretty good parents, tolerable magistrates, and as good subjects as other people, we ought all to be content with ourselves. A third thinks, to be a Christian is to defend with constant heat certain points which he elevates into capital doctrines, essential to holiness here, and to salvation hereafter. A fourth, more unjust than all the rest, supposes the first duty of a Christian is to be sure of his own salvation. Each wanders after his own fancy. It should seem, however, that the more we consult the gospel, the more fully shall wo be convinced, tiiat its design is to engage us to aspire at perfection, to transform man, to render him as perfect as lie was when he came out of the hands of his Creator, "to renew him after the image of him that created him," to make him approach the nature of glorified saints, and, to say all in one word, to transform him into the divine nature. This is Christianity. This it is to be a ('hristian; and conseqnently a Christian is a man called to be " perfect as his Father which is in heaven is ])erfi!(;t;" to be one with God, as Jesus Christ is one witli God. This definition of a Christian and of Chris- tianity, is juslilied by all we see in the gosjiel. For why does it every where propose perlecliiui for our end, heaven to our hope, God for our model? Why does it toarrh us to consider the good things of the world as evils, and the evils of the world as benefits, hiunan virtues as vices, and what men call vice as virtue? Why all this? All beside the matter, unless the gospel proposes to renew man, to transform him, and to make him approa(;h the perfei^t Being. P'rom these principles we conclude this. — Since tho go.spel requires us tu endeavour to " be perfect as our Father which is in heaven is perfect," we ought never to cease endea- vouring till we arc " as perfect as our Father which is in heaven is porf(!ct." Since the gospel reipiircs us to labour to Imcome, by a transformation of our being, one with God, as Jesus Christ is one with God, we ought -never to give over our endeavours till we do become one with God. Moreover, as we shall never in this life carry our virtue fo so high a degree as to be [icrfect as our Father is perfect, holy as God is h(dy, one with God as Jesus Christ is one with (Jod, it follows to a demonstration, that in no period of our life will our duty be finished; consequently, we must make con- tinual progress, if we would answer oar en- gagements; and consequently there is no point fixed in the career of virtue, in which it would be allowable to stoj); and consequently, St. Paul ought to be understood literally, when he says of himself, " I count not myself to have apprehended; I therefore so run, not as un- certainly; so fight I, not as one that beateth the air. Piut I keep under my body, and bring it into subjection, lest that by any means, when 1 have preached to others, I myself should be a cast-away," Phil. iii. 13; and conse(iuently, of all the excuses, of all the pretexts, of all the sophisms, whicii were ever invented to palliate that slowness with whicli we walk in the way of virtue, there are none more frivolous than these — we are not saints, we cannot be perfect, we cannot j>ut otf human nature; for it is be- cause you are not saints, it is because you are 710/ perfect, it is because you cannot put off human nature, it is on this account, that you ouffht to make a continual progress in CJhris- tian virtue, that the sincerity, and, so to speak, the obstinacy of your efforts may make up for imperfections. 3. Our third class of proofs is taken from the fatal consequences of a cessation of our efforts, a suspension of our religious endeavours. Were it literally true that we could arrive at that state of perfection which the gospel requires of us; could we actually finish the morality of religion it would still follow, that we must make new efforts during our residence in this world; and that without these our past labours would be useless. A man employed in a me- chanical art ))rcpares his materials, sets about his work, and carries it on to a certain degree. He suspends his labour for a while; his work does not advance, indeed, but our artist has at least this advantage over us, when he returns to his labour, he finds jiis work in the same for- wardness in which he left it. Heavenly exer- cises arc not of liiis kind. Past labour is often lost for want of perseverance; and, it is a cer- tain ma.xim in religion, that not to proceed is to draw back. Vice is closely connected with human pro- pensities. \'irtiie, on tho contrary, is directly opposite. As soon as you cea.se to endeavour to retain what opposes your projjensitics, na- ture takes its course. You carry within you, so to si)eak, a worker of iniquity, wiio con- stantly labours at the fatal work of your de- pravity. Tliis Workman is the old man. He every day gets fi>rward, every day confirms you in sin, every day strengthens your attachment to sensible objects, every day ties you with Sër. lui.] PROGRESSIVE RELIGION. IS fresh bands to carllily tilings. If you do not op- ])ose labour airaiii.st labour, reflection against re- jection, motive against motive, progress against progress, you will bo defeated. In tliese observation.s we find an answer to an objection, constantly repeated wlien we con- denni tliat perpetual dissipation, tliat exces- sive gaming, and tliose reiterated anmsements wliicli consume the greatest part of your lives. Vou perpetually comjjlain, tliat we overstrain mattei-s, that we aggravate things, that the yiiLe of Christ is easy, and his burikn is light, and that wo make the one uneasy, and the other heavy. You constantly allege, that re- ligion is not intended to put man on the rack, but to conduct liiin to reason: that the gospel is not contrary to a thousand pleasures which society oilers us, and that, after all, the things wo condemn are indili'eront. I grant, religion docs not condemn pleasures. 1 grant more, the pleasures you roler to are indill'erent in Iheir nature, that they have no bad inlluence, no treachery, no calumny in your conversation; no fraud, no swearing, no sordid interest in your gaming, no lax maxims, no profaneness, no immodesty in your amusements; I grant all this: Yet, after all, it is a fact, that, as the new man suspends his work, the old man advances his. Jt is always true, for example, that when a sermon has made some impressions on your hearts, when the lukewarm are aroused, when the impenitent are terrified, those other objects etlace tliese impressions; and, though they may not lead you into the commission of fresh crimes, yet they make you relapse into that iirst state of depravity from which 3'ou seemed to be emerging. 4. A fourth source of proofs in favour of the necessity of progress is, the advances them- selves which are made in the path of holiness. The science of salvation in this respect resem- bles human sciences. In human sciences we see a very singular phenomenon. A man of great and real learning is humble, he always speaks with caution, he pronounces always with circumspection, he determines a point treuibling, and his answers to dillicult questions are not unfrequently confessions of his igno- rance. On the contrary, a pedant assumes the state of a superior genius; he knows every thing, and undertakes to elucidate and deter- mine every thing. Both these men are in earnest, both are sincere. The learned man speaks very sincerely: for, as he has made great advances in literature, he knows the ex- tent of it; he knows that nature has dillicul- lies. Providence has dejiths, religion has mys- teries: such a man becomes humble as he be- comes able, and the more he acquires, the more he feels the need of acquiring. On the con- trary, a pedant does not even know what learn- ing is, he slops on the beach, sees a little way, takes that little for the whole, and easily per- suades himself that he knows all. Thus in the science of salvation, a man of little reliuion, who has only a languishing re- gard for God, and a few superticial ideas of virtue, soon flatters himself that he has done all his duty, employed all his love, and carried t'ervour to its highest degree. A man of lively and vigorous religion does not stop on the shore, he goes aboard a fast sailer, weighs an- chor, and sets sail on that ocean of truth which religion sets before him, and ho soon finds im- mense spaces before him; or to speak without a ligure, ho finds his own virtues so few in number, so limited in degree, so obstructed in their course, and so mixed in their exercise, that ho easily comes into a well-grounded judgment, that all he has attained is nothing to wliat lies before him. As he meditates oq his sins, he finds them so great, so numerous, so odious, so dangerous, that he cannot compre- hend how it is that his heart does, not break, and his eyes become fountains of tears. As he meditates on the nature of this world, he finds it so vain in its occupations, so puerile in its pleasures, so void in its amusements, its friend- ships so deceitful, and its duration so short, that he cannot comprehend what should detain him in tlie world. As he meditates on the fe- licity of heaven, he finds it so substantial and pure, so splendid and satisfactory, that he can- not conceive what should detain him, and pre- vent his losing sight of the world and ascend- ing to heaven. As he meditates on the Crea- tor, ho finds him so wise, so just, so good, so lovely, that he cannot imagine why his heart does not always burn with flames of love to him. Such is the effect of perseverance in a path of virtue! Accordingly we find the greatest saints the most eminent for humility. Abra- ham durst not " take upon him to speak unto the Lord, because he was only dust and ashes," Gen. xviii. 21. Job, "though he were right- eous, yet would not answer, but made suppli- cation to his judge," chap. ix. 15. David " could not stand, if the Lord, should mark iniquities," Ps. cxxx. 3. St. Paul did not think he had attained, Phil. iii. 12. To say all in one word, celestial intelligences, who were never embodied, the seraphim placed im- mediately opposite the throne of God, with two wings, ready to fly at the command of the Creator, have also four wings to cover their feet and faces, to express, that their zeal, how fervent and flaming soever, cannot equal what that God merits, whom they incessantly admire and adore. 5. Our fiflh class of proofs is taken from the excellence of the ministi-y. St. Paul was not an ordinary Christian: he was the minister of the gospel, and the greatness of his charac- ter was to him a ground of humility and dif- fidence. Although the duties of ministers, and the duties of hearers, are essentially the same; though there are not two ways to heaven, one for the pastor, and another for the flock, yet, it is certain, ministers have more motives to holi- ness than other men. What would the i>coi)le say, if the minister of the pulpit, and the minister of society, were two men.'' If the minister of the pulpit de- claimed against the vanities of the world, and the minister of society were worldly? If the minister of the pulpit were a man, grave, se- vere, fervent as a seraph: and the minister of society were a man loose, and full of worldly vices? Certainly people would say we sported with their credulity; and many a mouth would thunder in our ears this cutting reproach, " Thou which teachest Jinother, teacliest thou 1« THE NECESSITY OF tSER. LUI. not thyself? Thou that preachest a man should not steal, tlost thou steal' Tliou tliat ab- hori-est idols, dost thou commit sacrileg&'" Rom. ii. 21. Besides, a minister has two works to do in regard to salvation, his own soul to save, and the souls of his people to save. Each of these becomes a reason for his own sanctification. " For tiieir sakes I sanctify myself," said the Saviour of the world, "that they also might be sanctified," Joini xvii. 19. Interpreters un- derstand by this sanctification, that separation which Jesus Christ made of himself for the salvation of his church; but may we not un- derstand the word sanctify in the first part of the proposition, a.s we understand the same word in the second? " For their sakes 1 sanc- tify myself," is as much as to say, I obey thee, not only because, being a creature, I owe thee an inviolable fidelity, but because, being the master and teacher of thy church, I ought to influence it by my own example. Further, a minister of the gospel has extra- ordinary assistance, he is always with God, virtue is constantly before his eyes, and though almost all other employments in society have connected with them particular temptations to vice, the profession of a merchant to self-inte- rest, that of a soldier to cruelty, that of a ma- gistrate to pride, yet the ministry is itself an inducement to virtue. Such being the impor- tance of our engagements, and tiie eminence of our character, who can flatter himself with having discharged all his duties.' Who can venture to lift up his eyes to heaven? Who is not annihilated under a sense of his imper- fections and frailties? " O Lord, enter not into judgment with thy servant," Ps. cxliii. 2. Finally, The necessity of progressive sanc- tification appears by the end which God pro- posed in placing us in this world. We are of- ten troubled to conceive why God lodged man, a creature so noble, in a theatre of vanity and uncertainty. What is our life of thirty, forty, or fourscore years, to the immense duration of eternity? How can we reconcile the part wo act here, with the wisdom of him who placed us here; and, if I may speak so, the littleness of the world with the grandeur of its inhabi- tants? What destination do you a.ssign to maa' What end do you attribute to Iiis Crea- tor? Why did he place him in this world? Was it to make him happy? But what! can he be made happy among objects so very dispro- portional to his faculties? Are not his fortune and reputation, his health and his life, a prey to all human vicissitudes? Was it to make liiiii miserable? But how can this agree with the divine perfections; with tiiat goodness, liber- ality and beneficence, which are essential to God? Wa« it to enal)le him to cultivate arts and sciences' But what relation is there be- tween an occupation so mean and a creature so nobla' Besides, would life then have been so short' Alas, we hardly make any progress in artjj and sciences, before they become useless to us! Before we have well pa-ssed out of in- fancy and novitiate, death puta a period to our projectti, and takes away from us all the fruits of learning and lubour. Before we have well learned languages, death condemns us to eter- nal silence. Before we well know the world, we arc obliged to quit it; and we die when we are just learning to live. If the famous Theo- phrastus, at the age of one hundred and seven years, regretted lite, becau.sc he just then began to live wisely, what lamentations must other men make? What then was the design of God in placing us here? Was it that we should form and refine society? But how can a soci- ety composed of creatures transient and im- perfect, be considered as a real and substantial body of bliss? If it has some solidity and re- ality, when considered abstractly, yet what is it in itself? What is it to you? What is it to me? What is it to any individual member? Does not one law reduce all to dust? My brethren, there is only one way out of this labyrinth. One single answer is sutBcieiit for all these questions. This world is a place of exercise, this life is a time of trial, which is given us that we may choose either eternal happiness or endless misery. To this belong all the different ideas, which the Holy Spirit gives us of life. Sometimes it is a state of traffic, in which eternal reward is given for a " cup of cold water only." Some- times it is a state of tribulation, in which " light aftliction, which is but for a moment, worketh for us a far more exceeding and eter- nal weight of glory." Sometimes it is a pas- sage way, in which we are to behave as " strangers and pilgrims." Sometimes it is an economy of visitation, in wliicli "richness of goodness, and forbearance, and long-sufiering, are opened to us." Sometimes it is a " race," in which "all run, but one receiveth the prize." Sometimes it is a figlit, in which we cannot hope to conquer, unless we fight with courage and constancy. To this subject belongs the Scriptural esti- mation of life. Sometimes it speaks of life as mean and contemptible; and at other times, on the contrary, as great and invaluable. Some- times it heaps expression upon expression, im- age upon image, emblem upon emblem, to make us consider it with contempt. It is " a shadow, a vanity, a llower, a grass, a vapour, a dream, a tale, a vain show, nothing" before God. And yet this " vain shadow," this " flower," this " vapour," this " dream," tliis "tale," this "show," this "nothing," the Scriptures teach us to consider as a time for us to " redeem," as an " accepUible time," as a "day of salvation," as a time after which there will be " time no longer." Why this different estimation? If you consider life in regard to itself, and with a view to the connex- ions we form, the ])lcasureswc relish, the tem- I)oral occupations we follow: if you consider it in regard to sceptres and thrones, crowns and establishments the most pompous and solid, you cannot underrate life. On the contrary, if you consider it in regard to the great design of the Creator, in regard to the relation it has to eternity, in rejrard to that idea which we have given you of it, you cannot value it too highly. This world tliiMi is a place of exercise, life is a time of trial, given us that wo might choose eternal happiness or endless misery. This principle licing allowed, (»iir doctrine is supported liy a new cla-ss of argmuents; for be it granted that you remember nothing in your past life contrary to your profession of Chris- Ser. lui.] PROGRESSIVE RELIGION. 17 tianity; be it that you resemble St. Paul in all his excellencies after conversion, and in none of tlie crimes which he committed before tiiat happy period; the only conclusion whicli you have a right to draw is, that you have perform- ed a part of your task, but not that there re- mains nothing more for you to do. You are nearer the end than tlicy wiio have not run so fast in the race as you have, but you have not yet obtained the prize. You have discharged the duties of youth, and the duties of manhood, now the duties of old age remain to be dis- charged. You have discharged all the duties of health, now tiie duties of sickness and dying remain to be discharged. This world is a place of exercise; while you arc in it your ex- ercise is not finislied; life is a time of trial; as long as you live your trial remains. Let us conclude. Were we to act rational- ly, we should always fix our minds on these truths; we should never end a day without putting this question to ourselves. What pro- gress have I made in virtue.' Have I tiiis day approaclied the end of my creation.' And as the time of my abode here diminishes, do I advance in proportion to the time that remains? We should require of ourselves an exact ac- count of every day, every hour, every instant of our duration; but this is not the gospel of most Christians. What we have been propos- ing, seem to most hearers mere maxims of the preacher, more proper to adorn a public dis- course, than to compose a system of religion. Why are not ecclesiastical bodies as rigid and severe against heresies of practice, as they are against heresies of speculation.' Certainly there are heresies in morality, as well as in theology. Councils and synods reduce the doc- trines of faith to certain propositional points, and thunder anathemas against all who refuse to subscribe them. They say. Cursed be he who does not believe the divinity of Christ: cursed be he who does not believe hypostatical union, and the mystery of the cross; cursed be he who denies the inward operations of grace, and the irresistible efficacy of the Holy Spirit. I wish they would make a few canons against moral heresies! How many are there of this kind among our people? Among our people we may put many who are in another class. Let me make canons. In the first I would put a heresy too common, that is, that the calling of a Christian consists less in the practice of virtue, than in abstaining from gross vices; and I would say, if any man think that he suf- ficiently answers the obligations of Christianity, by not being avaricious, oppressive, and intem- perate, if he do not allow that lie ought to be zealous, fervent, and detached from the world, let him be accursed. In a second canon, I would put another heresy, equally general, and equally dangerous, and which regards the delay of conversion; and I would say. If any one imagine that, after a life spent in sin, a few re- grets, proceeding more from a fear of death and hell, than from a principle of love to God, are sufficient to open the gates of heaven, let him be accursed. In a third canon I would put .... fill up the list yourselves, my brethren, and let us return to our subject. To confine one's self to a certain circle of virtues, to stop at a fixed point, to be satisfied with a given Vol. il— 3 degree of piety, is an error; it is a heresy, which deserves as many anathemas, and eccle- siastical thunders, as all the others whicli have been unanimously denounced by all Christians. My brethren, let us rectify our ideas, in or- der to rectify our conduct. " Let us run with patience the race set before us," let us go on till we can say with St. Paul, " I have finished my course." Be not terrified at this idea of progressive religion. Some great efforts must have been made by all holy men in this place to arrive at that degree of virtue which they have obtained; but the hardest part of the work is done; henceforward what remains ig easy. The way to heaven is narrow at the entrance, but it widens as we go on. The yoke of Christ is heavy at first, but it weighs little when it has Ijeen long worn. After all there is a way of softening all the pains to which we are exposed, by continuing our eflbrts. St. Paul practised this art with great success; it consists in fixing tlie eye on tiie end of the race. At the end of the race, he saw two objects: — The first tlie prize. How easy to brave the enemies of salvation, when the eye is full of the prospect of it! How tolerable appear the pains of the present state, when the "sufferings of the present time are compared with, and weighed against, the glory that follows." Next, St. Paul saw Jesus Christ at the end of the race, another object which animated him. He was animated by the ex- ample of Christ, to finish his course with joy; he was animated by the assistances which sup- ported him; he was animated by Ihe promise of Christ telling him, " He that overcometh shall sit down in my throne;" lie was animated by the mercy, which he knew, how weak so- ever his efforts might be, would be approved at the tribunal of Jesus Christ, provided they were sincere; for Jesus himself conquered for him, and himself acquired that prize for the apostle at which he aspired; in a word, he was animated by his love; Jesus Christ is at the end of the race, and Paul loved Jesus Christ, and longed to be with him. I said, he saw two objects, the prize of victory, and Jesus Christ; but these make only one object. St. Paul's prize is Jesus Christ. Jesus Christ is Paul's paradise. According to him, Christ is the most desirable part of celestial felicity: "Whilst we are at home in the body, we are absent from the Lord; we are willing rather to be absent from the body, and to be present with the Lord," 2 Cor. v. 6. 8. " I desire to depart, and to be with Christ," Phil. i. 23, " I press toward the prize of the high calling of God in Christ Jesus," chap. iii. 14. This thought, tliat every step he took brought him nearer to Jesus Christ, this thought rendered him insensible to all the fatigue of the race, and enabled him to redouble his efforts to arrive at the end. O flames of divine love! Shall we never know you except by the examples of the primitive Christians! O flames of divine love, which we have so often described, shall we never feel you in our own souls? Fire us, in- flame us witii your ardour, and make us un- derstand that all thmgs are easy to the man who sincerely loves God! God grant us tliis grace! To him be glory for ever and ever. Amea. 18 THE MORAL MARTYR. [Ser. LIV. SERMON LIV. THE MORAL MARTYR. Psalm cxix. 4G. I will speak of thy tcslimoiiics also before kings, and Kill not be aahamed. Mt Brethren, It is not only under the reiifn oT a tyrant, that religion involves ita disciples in persecu- tion, it is in times of the greatest trantpiilhly, and even when virtue seems to sit on a throne. A Christian is often subject to punishments dif- ferent from wheels, and racks. People united to liim by the same profession of religion, hav- ing received the same baptism, and called with him to aspire at the same glory, not unfre- qncntly press him to deny Jesus Christ, and prepare punislnneiits for hiin, if he have cour- age to confe.ss him. Religion is proposed to us in two ditferent points of view, a point of speculation, and a point of practice. Accord- ingly, there are two sorts of martyrdom; a martyrdom for doctrine, and a martyrdom for morality. It is for the la.st tliat the prophet prepares us in the words of the text, and to the same end I dedicate the sermon which I am going to address to you to-day. I come into the place that affords a happy asylum for confessors and martyrs, to utter in your hear- ing these words of Jesus Christ, " Whosoever shall be ashamed of me, and of my words, in this adulterous and sinful generation, of him also shall the Son of man be ashamed, when he Cometh in the glory of his Father with the holy angels," Mark viii. 38. In order to animate you with a proper zeal for morality, and to engage you, if necessary, to become martyrs for it, we will treat of the subject in five different views. r We will show you tlie authors, or, as they may be justly denominated, the execu- tioners, who punish men with martyrdom for morality. II. The magnanimity of such as expose them- selves to it. III. The horrors that accompany it. IV. The obligation which engages men to submit to it. V. The glory that crowns it. We will explain tiiese five ideas contained in the words of the psalmist, " I will speak of thy testimonies before kings, and will not be ashamed;" and we will proportion these arti- cles, not to that extent to which they naturally go, but to the bounds prescribed to these ex- ercises. I. The ttulhors, or as we just now called them, the executioners, who inflict this punish- ment, are to be considered. The text calls them kin^i; " I will sp«!ak of thy testimonies before kings." What king does the psalmist mean.' Saul to whoui piety was become odi- oua' or any particular heathen prince, to whom the persofMitinn of Saul suinotimes ilruve our prophet for refuge.- The name of the God of the Hebrews was bl;isi)henieil among these barbarians; his worship was called superstition by them; and it would have been difficult to profess to fear him and avoid contempt. It is not ea.sy to determine the persons in- tended by the p.sahnist, nor is it necessary to confine the words to eitlier of the senses given; they may be taken in a more extensive sense. The word kin^ in the eastern languages, as well as in those of the western world, is not confined to kings jjropcrly so called; it is sometimes given to superiors of any rank. Ask not the reason of this, every language has its own genius, and custom is a tyrant who seldom consults reason before he issues orders; and who generally knows no law but self-will and caprice. If you insist on a direct answer to your inquiry concerning the reason of the general use of the term, I reply, tiie same pas- sion for despotism which animates kings on the throne, usually inspire such individuals as are a little elevated above peoi)le around them; they corLsider themselves as sovereigns, and pretend to regal homage. Authority over in- feriors begins this imaginary royalty, and vanity finishes it. Moreover, such as are called petty gentry, in the world, are generally more proud and absolute than real kings; the last frequently l)ropose nothing but to e.xercise dominion, but the first aiui both to exercise dominion and to make a parade of the exercise, lest their im- aginary grandeur should pass unnoticed. I understand, then, by the vague term kings, all who have any pre-eminence over the low- est orders of men; and these are they who ex- ercise tyraimy, and inflict the martyrdom fdr which the prophet in the text prepares us. In order to comprehend this more fully, contrast two conditions in the life of David. Remark first the state of mediocrity, or rather happy obscurity, in which this holy man was born. Educated by a father, not rich, but pious, he was religious from his childhood. As he led a country life, he met with none of those snares among his cattle which the great world sets for our innocence. He gave full scope without constraint to his love for God, and could aft\rm, without hazarding any thing, that God was supremely lovely. What a contrast! This shep- herd was suddenly called to (juit his sheep and his fields, and to live with courtiers in the palace of a prince. Wluit a society fora man accustom- ed to regulate his conversation by the laws of truth, and his conduct by those of virtue! What a place was this for him to propose tiiose just and beautiful i)rinciples wliicii the Holy Spirit teaches in the Scriptures, and whi(;ii are many of them to bo found in the writings of the psalmist! " I have seen the wicked in power, and spreading himself like a green bay-tree; yet he has j)as3ed away, and lo, ho was not; I sought him, and he could not be fouud. Surely men of high degree are a lie, to be laid in a balance they are allogetlier ligliter than vanity. 1 said, ye are gods, and all of you are the diildren of the Most High; but ye shall die like men. Put not your trust in a prince, in wliom there is no help. His breath gocth forth, he returneth to his earth, in tiiat very day his thougiits perisli. Ho tliat nileth liis spirit, is better than lie that taketli a city. My son, the son of my woml), tiie son of my vows, give not thy strength unto women, nor thy ways to that which dostroyeth kings. It is not for Ser. LIV.] THE MORAL MARTYR. 19 kin^, O Lemuel, to drink wine, nor for princes strong drink, lest they driniî, and forget the law, and pervert tlie judgment of any of the atUicted." How would these maxims he re- ceived at some of your courts? Tiiey were not very pleasing at that of Saul; David was, there- fore, censured hy liini and his fnurtiers for pro- posing them. Hear how he expressed iiim- self in this psalm. "O Lordl remove from me reproacli and contemj)t. Princes did sit and speak against me, because thy servant dul meditate in tliy statutes. The proud have had me greatly in derision; yet hav(! I not declined from thy law," Psa. cxix. 2-', 2:?. 61. II. Let us pass to the second article, and consider the mn^ifanimilij of such as expose themselves to tins martyrdom. This is natu- rally included in the form(!r remark, concern- ing the executioners wlio intlict tiie punish- ment. My brethren it is impossible to speak of the testimonies of (iod boforo tiic tyrants in question, without being accused either of a spirit of rebellion, aversion to social pleasures, or rusticity and pedantry; three dispositions which the great seldom forgive. The martyr for moralily is sometimes taxed with a spirit of rébellion. Perhaps you iniglit have thought I spo!:e extravagantly, when 1 alHrmed, that most men consider themselves as kings in regard to their inferiors. I venture, however, to aliirm a greater paradox still; that is, they consider themselves as gods, and de- mand such homage to be paid to their fancied divinity as is due to none hut to the true God- 1 grant great men do not all assume the place of God with equal arrogance. There are not many Pharaohs who adopt this brutal language, " Who is the Lord, that I sliould obey his voice?" Exod. v. 2. There are but kv/ Scn- naclieribs, who are so extravagant as to say to the people of God, "Beware lest Hezekiali persuade you, saying, The l^ord will deliver us. Hath any of tlie gods of the nations delivered his land out of the hand of the king of Assyria? Where are the gods of Hamath and Arphad? Where are the gods of Sepharvaim?" Isa. xxxvi. 18, 19. But, though the great men of the world do not always assume the place of God with so much brutal insolence, yet they do assume it. Though tliey do not say to their inferiors in so many words, Obtxj vx rather than Gnd, yet do they not say it in effect? Is it possible to oji- pose their fancy with impunity? Is it safe to establish the riglits of God in their presence? What success had Elijah at the court of Ahah? Micaiah at that of JehosaphaL' John the Bap- tist at that of Herod? We need not go back to remote times. What success have we had among you, when we have undertaken to allege tiie riglits of God m some circumstiuices? For example, when we have endeavoured to convince you, that to aspire at the olHce of a judge, without talents essential to tlie discharge of it, is to in- cur the guilt of all the unjust sentences that may be pronounced; that to stupify the undcr- •standing by debauchery, to drown re;ison in intemperance, to dissipate the spirits by sensual pleasures, when going to determine questions which regard the lives and fortunes of mankind, is to rob men of their property, and to plunge a dagger into their bosoms; that to be so ab- sorbed in forming public treatises, and in tlie prosperity of the states, as to lose sight of the interests of religion, is equal to placing hope in the present life, and renouncing all expecta- tion of a life to come; that to render one's self inaccessible to the solicitations of widows and orphans, while we till oIKces created for their service, is to usurp honours for the sake of emoluments; that to suffer the publication of scandalous books, and the practice of public dchaucher}', under pretence of toleration and liberty, is to arm God against a stale, though states subsist only hy his protection. Let us not repeat forgotten grievances, let us not, by multiplying these objects, run the hazard of in- creasing the number of arguments which justify our proposition. " To Sjieak of the testimo- nies of God before kings," is to expose one's self to a charge of rebellion, and to such pun- ishments as ought to bo reserved for real in- cendiaries and rebels. 2. As the great men of the world would have IIS respect their rank, so they are equally jealous of their pleasures; and most men form- ing maxims of pleasure more or less lax, ac- cording as their rank is more or less eminent, licentiousness grows along with credit and for- tune. A man who made a scruple of being absent from an exercise of religion, when he could hardly provide bread for the day, has not even attended the Lord's supper since he became master of a thousand a year. A man whose conscience would not suffer him to fre- quent some companies, when he walked afoot, is become a subscriber to public gaming houses now he keeps a carriage. A man who would have blushed at immodest language in private life, keeps, without scruple, a prostitute, now he is become a public man. Lift your eyes a little higher, lift them above metaphorical kings, and look at kings properly so called. Adultery, incest, and other abominations, more fit for beasts than men? what am I saying? abominations to which beasts never abandon themselves, and of which men only are capable, are not these abominations considered as sports in the palaces of some princes? This is what I said, licentiousness increases with credit and fortune. The maxims which men form con- cerning pleasures, are more or less loose ac- cording as their rank is more or less eminent. In general, that detachment from the world which religion proposes to produce in our hearts, that spirit of repentance with which it aims to inspire us, those images of death which it perpetually sets before us, those plans of fe- licity disengaged from matter, to which it in- vites us; all these ideas are tasteless to the great; we cannot propose them amidst their intoxicating pleasures without being considered as enemies of pleasure, as scourges to society. 3. When we speak of the testimonies of God before the great, we are taxed with rusticity and pedantry. There is, among men, a mis- named science, without which we cannot ap- pear great in the world; it is called politeness, or good-breeding. This science consists in adopting, at least in feigning to adopt, all the passions and prejudices of the great, in taking such forms as they like, in regulating ideas of right and wrong by their caprice, in condemn- 20 THE MORAL MARTYR. [Ser. LIV. ing what they condemn, and in approving what they approve. In one word, politeness, in the style of the great, is that suppleness which keeps a man always prepared to cliango his gystem of morality and religion according to their fancies. Not to have this disposition, to have invariable ideas, and invariable objects of pursuit, to bo inconvertible in religion, to have the laws of God always before our eyes, or. as tlie Scripture speaks, to " walk before him," is in the style of people of the world, to have no breeding, to be a bad courtier, to bo possessed with that kind of folly which renders it proper for us, though, not to be confined with lunatics, yet to be banislied from the company of people of birth and quality, as they call themselves, and to be stationed in closets and cells. III. Thus we have seen both the execution- ers who punish morality with martyrdom, and the magnanimity which exposes a man to the punishment: and tiiese are sufficient to expose our third article, the hoirors, that accompany it. I have no ideas sufficiently great of the bulk of my auditors, to engage me to be very exact in expounding this third article. I fear, were I to enlarge on this part of my subject, I should raise insurinountal)le obstacles to the end which I should prop(jse in opening the subject. Forgive an opinion so inglorious to yoiir piety, but too well adjusted to the imper- fections of it. We dare not form such a plan for you as Jesus Christ formed for St. Paul, when speaking of this new proselyte to Anani- as, he told him, " I will show him how great things he must sutFer for my name's sake," Acts ix. 16. Martyrdom for doctrines, I grant, seems at first more siiocking than martyrdom for morality; but, taken altogether, it is per- haps less insupportable. To die for religion is not always the worst tiling in the calling of a Clirisliaij. Virtue wakes ij|) into vigour in these circumstances, and renders itself invinci- ble by its efforts. Even worldly honours some- times come to embolden. That kind of he- roism which is attributed to a man making such a splendid sacrifice, supports under ex- quisite torments. There is another kind of suffering, longer and more fatiguing, and therefore more dilh- «•.ult. It is a profession, a detail, a trade of suf- fering, if I may express myself so. To see one's self called U» live among men whom we are al- ways obliged to ('ontradict u|)()n subjects for which they discover the greatest sensibility; to be excluded from all their |)leasures; never to bo admitted into their company, except when they are under afflictions and restraints; to hear onii's looks and habits turned into ridi- cule, as they said of the ijropliet Klisha, " lb; is a liairy man, and girt with a girdle of leather about his loins," 2 Kings i. 8: What a punish- ment! Men who have withstood all the terrors of racks anddimgeons, liave yielded to the vio- lence of this kind of persecution and martyr- dom. Wo will not be insensible of the frailty of our auditors, and therefore, we will omit a discussion of the acute and horrid pains of this kind of martyrdom. IV. We are to treat, fourthly, of the obliga- tion of speaking of the /("s/ii/ioïiifS of God be- fore kings. We ground thin on the nature of this duty. You have heard, that it consists in urging the rights of God before great men; and, thougii it be at the hazard of all the com- forts and pleasures of life, in professing to re- spect the moral part of religion. We do not mean an unseasonable and indiscreet manner of doing so. The duty of confes.sing Jesus Christ before tyrants, in regard to his doctrines, has its bounds; and so has tliat of confessing his morality. There was more enthusiasm than true zeal in such ancient confessors as voluntarily presented themselves before perse- cutors, and intrigued fur the glory of martyr- dom. So, in regard to the present subject, in our opinion, it is not requisite we should in- trude into the company of rtie great to reprove them, when we have reason to believe our re- bukes would be injurious to ourselves, and con- tribute nothing to the glory of religion. All the actions of a Christian should be directed by prudence. We only expect you should neTer blush for the precepts of your great Lawgiver, never contribute, by mean adulation, or pro- found silence, to the violation of them; in short, that you would openly profess to fear God al- ways when your profession is likely to con- vince a sinner, or to convert a saint. This duty carries its own evidence along with it. Let us here compare the doctrines of religion with the precepts of it. The pre- cepts of religion are as essential as the doc- trines; and religion will as certainly sink if the morality be subverted, as if the theology be undermined. Moreover, doctrines are ab- solutely useless without morality, and the doc- trines of religion are only proposed to us as grounds of the duties of it. The first doctrine of religion, the foundation of all the rest, is, that there is only one God; but why does God require us to admit the doctrine of his unity.' It is that we may not divide supreme love, the character of supreme adoration, be- tween the Supreme Being and creatures; for on this subject it is said, " thou shalt love the Lord thy God with all thine heart." Now, were I to deny this second proposition, we ought not to divide between God and any creature that love which is the essence of su- preme adoration, should I be a less odious apostate than if I denied the first' One of the most essential points of our divinity is, that there is a future state. Hut why does God re- quire us to believe a future stater It is that we should regard the present life as the least considerable period of our duration. If then I deny this pradical proposition, tlio present life is the least considerable part of our duration, am I an apostate less odious than if I deny thi.'t ])r<)position of speculation, there is a future slaUi? We say the same of all other doctrines. If it bo the duty of a Christian to confess the doctrines of religion, and if a siinjilc genuflex- ion, and the offering of one grain of incense, be acts of denial of these truths of speculation, I ask, are not one act of adulation, one sjnile of approbation, one gesture of acquiescence, also acts of denial in regard to practical lruth&' Most certainly. In times of persecution it was necessary to lift up the standard of Josus Christ, to confess him before Herod and Pilate, and before all who took these persecutors of the church for their examples. In like manner, SïR- LIV.] THE MORAL MARTYR. 21 while the church enjoys the most profound peace, if innocence be oppressed, if we see modesty attacked, if we hear the sophisms of sin, we must learn to say, each in his pro- fer sphere, I am a Christian, I hato calumny, abhor oppression, I detest profaneness and licentiousness, and so on. The further you carry this comparison of martyrdom for doctrines with martyrdom for duties, the more fully will you perceive, tliat the same reasons which establish the necessity of the first, confirm that of the last, and that apostates from morality are no less odious than those from divinity. Let us for a moment ex- amine what makes the first martyrdom neces- sary, I mean that for doctrines. Some reasons regard the believers themselves. Our attach- ment to the religion of Jesus Christ may be doubtful to ourselves, before we suffer for it. Martyrdom is a trial of this attachment. " Be- loved, think it not strange concerning the fiery trial which is to try you, as though some strange thing happened unto you," 1 Pet. iv. 12. Some regard the spectators, in whose presence God calls his children to suffer for religion. Chris- tians have made more disciples to the true re- ligion, by suffering persecution, than tyrants have taken from it by persecuting. This is a second view of martyrdom. A martyr may say, with his divine Master, "I, if I be lifted up, will draw all men unto me," John xii. 32. Some of these reasons regard the honour of religion, for vv^hich God calls us to suffer. What can be more glorious for it than that peace, and joy, and firmness, with which it in- spires its martyrs? How ravishing is this re- ligion, when it supports its disciples under the most cruel persecutions! How truly great does it appear, when it indemnifies them for the loss of fortune, rank, and life; when it makes them see, through a shower of stones, the object of tlieir hope, and impels them to exclaim with St. Stephen, " Behold, I see the heavens open- ed, and the Son of Man standing on the right hand of God!" Acts vii. 56. This is a third view of martyrdom, and it would be as easy to increase the list as it is to make the applica- tion. Let us apply to martyrdom for duties, what we have said concerning martyrdom for doctrines, and we shall be obliged to conclude, that the same reasons establish the necessity of both. Let us not pass lightly over this article. If there be a martyrdom of morality, how many apostles have we among us? How often have we denied our holy religion? How often, when it has been jeeringly said to us, " Thou also wast with Jesus," have we sneakingly replied, " I know not what thou sayesL'" V. We come to our last article, the crown of moral martyrdom. Here a new order of objects present themselves to our meditation. Pardon me, if I cannot help deploring the loss or the suspension of tliat voice with which for three and twenty years I have announced the testimonies of God, so as to be clearly heard at the remotest parts of this numerous auditory. However, I will try to present to you at least a few of the truths which I dare not undertake to speak of in their utmost extent. The martyrdom of morality! A man who can say to God, as our prophet said, " I will speak of thy testimonies before kings, and will not be aishamed," finds a rich reward, first in the ideas which a sound reason gives him of stiame and glory; secondly, in the testimony of his own conscience; thirdly, in the approba- tion of good people; and lastly, in the prero- gatives of martyrdom. These, if I may so ex- press myself, are four jewels of his crown. 1 . J^otims of shame and glory are not arbi- trary, they are founded on the essence of those things to which they are related; on these re- lations they depend, and not on the caprice of different understandings. My first relation is that which I have to God, it is the relation of a creature to his Creator. The duty of this relation is that of the most profound submis- sion. My glory is to discharge this duty, and it is my shame to violate it. My second rela- tion is that which I have to men, a relation between beings formed in the same image, sub- ject to the same (îod, and exposed to the same miseries. The duty of this relation is that of treating men as I wish they would treat me; or, to use the words of Jesus Christ, " of doing to them whatsoever I would they should do to me," Matt. vii. 12. It is my glory to dis- charge this duty, and my shame to violate it; and so of the rest. These ideas are not arbi- trary, they are founded in the nature of things. No mortal, no potentate lias a right to change them. If, tiien, the great reçrard me with dis- dain, when I answer to my relations, and dis- charge the duties of them, I will not be asham- ed. The contempt which this conduct brings upon me, falls back upon my despiser, because shame is a necessary consequence of violating these duties, and because glory is a necessary consequence of practising them. 2. The martyrdom of morality is rewarded by the testimony of conscience, and by the inef- fable joys with which the heart is overwhelm- ed. While the tribunals of the great condemn the Christian, an inward judge absolves him; and the decrees of the former are reversed by the latter. " Our rejoicing is this, the testimo- ny of our conscience. I suffer; nevertheless I am not ashamed, for I know on whom I have believed," 2 Cor. i. 12; 2 Tiin. i. 12. 3. Tlie moral martyr is rewarded by tlie ap- probation of good people. Indeed, suffrages will never be unanimous. There will always be in the world two opposite systems, one of virtue, another of sin. Tiie partisans of a sys- tem of sin will always condemn the friends of virtue as the friends of virtue will always con- demn the partisans of sin. You cannot be con- sidered in the same light by two such different classes of judges. What the first account in- famous, the last call glory; and the last will cover you with glory for what the first call your shame. If you be obliged to choose one of the two parties to judge you, can you possi- bly hesitate a moment on which to fix your choice? The prophet indemnified himself by an intercourse with the people of God, for the injury done him by the great. " I am," said he, "a companion of all them that fear thee, and of them that keep thy precepts," Ps. cxix. 33. Sutler me to sanctify here the profane praise which Lucan gave Pompey;* " The gods are * Victrex Causa Deis Placuit; sed VicU Catoni. 22 THE FATAL CONSEQUENCES OF [Ser. LV. for Cesar, but Cato is for Pompey." Yes, the approbation of Cato is preferable to that of the gods! I mean those imaginary gods, who fre- quently usurp the rights of the true Cod. In fine, tiie martyr for morality is rewarded by the prcrofi:(ith'es of martyrdom. It would be inconvenient, in the close of a sermon, to discuss a question that would require a whole discourse; 1 mean that concerning degrees of glory, hut that, if there be degrees of glory, the highest will be bestowed on martyrs, will admit of no dispute. This, 1 think, may be proved from many pa.ssages of Scripture. St. John seems to have taken pains to establish this doctrine in tlie Revelation: " Ho that overcometh, and keepeth my works unto the end, to him will I give power over the nations, and he shall rule them with a rod of iron; as the vessel of a potter shall they be broken into shivers," chap. ii. 26, 27. This regards mar- tyrs, and this seems to promise them pre-emi- nence. " heboid I come quickly; hold that fast which thou hast, that no man take thy crown. Him tliat overcometh will I make a pillar in the temple of my God, and he shall go no more out; and I will write upon him the name of my God, and the name of the city of my God, which is new Jerusalem, which com- eth down out of heaven from my God," chap. iii. 11, 12. This regards martyrs, and this seerns to promise them pre-eminence. " What are these which are arrayed in white robes? and whence came they? These are they which came out of great tribulation, and have wash- ed their robes, and made them white in the blood of the Lamb. Therefore are they before the throne of God," chap. vii. 13 — 15. This regards martyrs, and this also seems to promise them pre-eminence. Christians, perhaps your minds are offended at the gospel of this day. Perhaps you are terrified at the career which wo have been opening to you. Perhaps you are inwardly murmuring at this double martyrdom. Ah! rather behold " the great cloud of witnesses" with which you are compassed about, and con- gratulate yourselves that you fight under the same standard, and aspire at the same crown. Above all, "look unto Jesus, the author and finisher of faith, who endured such contradic- tion of sinners against himself;" and wiio, as the same apostle Paul speaks, not only " en- dured the cross," but also " despised the shame." Hark! lie speaks to you from the goal, and in this animating language «addresses you, " If any man hear my voice, 1 will come in to him. To him that overcometh will I grant to sit witii mo in iny throne, even as 1 also overcame, and am set down with my Fa- ther in his throne," Rev. iii. 20, 21. lîappy you, if you be accessible to such noble motives! Happy we, if wo ho aUlo to say to God, in that solt.'mn day in which he will render to every one according to his works, " I have preached righteousness in the great congrega- tion. Lo, I have not refrained my lips, O Lord, thou knowest; I iiave not hid thy righte- ousness witliin my heart, I have declared thy faithfulness and tliy salvation, I have not con- cealed thy loving kindness! Withhold not thou thy tender mercies from me, O Lord!" God grant us this grace. Ainen. SERMON LV. THE FATAL CONSEQUENCES OF A BAD EDUCATION. 1 Samuel iii. 12, 13. In that ilaij, I trill perforin ac^tiin.it Eli, all things irhich 1 have spokin concerning his house; V'hen I begin, I trill also make an end. For I have told him, that I trill judge his house for ever, for the iniquity which he knotrelh; be- cause his sons made themselves rile and he re- strained them not. TiiiisF. words are part of a discourse which God addressed to young Samuel in a vision, the whole history of which is well known to us all. We intend to fî.K our chief attention on the mi.sery of a parent, who neglects the education of his children: but before we con- sider the subject in this point of view, we will make three remarks tending to elucidate the history. The crimes of the sons of Eli, the indulgence of the unhappy father, and the punishment of that indulgence, demand our attention. Observe the ci-ime.s of the sons of Eli. They supported their debaucheries by the victims whicii the i)eople brought to the tabernacle to be offered in sacrifice. Tlielaw assigned them the shoulders and the breasts of all the beasts sacrifined for peace-offerings: but, not content with these, they seized the portions wiiich God had appointed to such as brought the offerings, and which he had commanded them to eat in his presence, to signify their communion with him. They drew these portions with flesh- hooks out of the caldrons, in which they were boiling. Sometimes they took them raw, that they might have an opportunity of preparing them to their taste; and thus by serving them- selves before God, they discovered a contempt for those just and charitable ends which God had in view, when he ordained tiiat his minis- ters should live on a part of tiie sacrifices. — God, by providing a table for the priests in his own house, intended to make it appear, that tliey had the honour of being his domestics, and, so to speak, that they lived on his reve- nue. This was a benevolent design. God also, by appointing the i)riesls to eat after they had sacrificed, intended to make them understand that he was their sovereign, and the princi|)al object of all the ceremonies performed in his palace. Tlie.se were just views. The exccs.ses of the table generally prepare the way for debaudiery; and the sons of Eli having admitted the first, had fillen into the last, so that tiicy abused " the women that as- sembled at the door of the tabernacle of the congregation," clia]). ii. 22; and to sucii a de- gree had tlicy carried these enormities that the people, who had been used to frequent the holy place only for the ]>urposo of rendering hom- age to Aimighty Gtid, were drawn thither by the abominable desire of gratifying the inclina- tions of his uiuvortiiy ministers. Such were the crimes of the sons of Eli. Let us observe next the indulgence of the pa- rent. Ho did not wholly neglect to correct his Ser. LV.] A BAD EDUCATION. 23 Bons, for tho reproofs he gave them are record- ed in tho second chapter. " Why do ye siicii things?" said ho to them, " for I hear of your evil dcahnjrs by all this people. Do not so my sons, for it is no good report that 1 licar." To perform a duty of sucl» imi)ortance witli so much indilierence, was equal to an encourage- ment of the sin. T^li niado use of petitions and exhortations, when he ought to have ap- plied sharp reproofs, and alarming threaten- ings. lie censured and rebuked, wiien he ought to have anatheniali7#d and thundered: accordingly, after the Holy Spirit had related the reproofs wiiich Eli, in liio words just now cited, addressed to his sons, ho tells us in tlie text, by a seeming contradiction, hut in words full of truth and good sense, that Eli " restrain- ed them not." Observe thirdly what terrible punishments this criminal indulgence drew down upon the guilty father, the i)rotligate sons, and even the whole people under their direction. A prophet had before denounced these judgments against Eli, in order to engage him to prevent the re- petition of the crimes, and the infliction of the punishments. " Wherefore honourest thou thy sons above me?" said the man of God. " 1 said, indeed, that tliy house, and the house of thy father, should walk before me for ever: but behold the days come that I will cut off thine arm, and the arm of thy father's house, tliat there shall not bo an old man in thine house. And thou shalt see an enemy in my habitation, in all the wealth which God shall give Israel. And the man of thine, whom I shall not cut off from mine altar, shall be to consume thine eyes, and to grieve thine heart. And tiiis shall be a sign unto thee, thy two sons, Hophrii and Phinehas in one day shall both of them die," chap. ii. 29, &c. These threatenings were accomplished in all their rigour. The arm is in Scripture an em- blem of strength, and when the prophet threat- ened Eli, that the liOrd would cut oft' his mm, and the arm of his father's house, he meant to foretell that the family of this priest should fall into decay. Hoplmi and Phinehas perished in battle when the Philistines conquered the Is- raelites. Ahitub and Ichabod, the sons of Phi- nehas, lived only a few years after the death of their father. If we believe a tradition of the Jews, this threatening was accomplished many ages after it was uttered. We are told in the Talmud, that there was at Jerusa- lem a family, in which no one outlived the eighteenth year of his age; and that a famous Rabbi found by inquiring into the origin of that family, that it descended from Eli. A rival, Zadok, was made high priest instead of Abia- thar, a descendant of Eli. We are able to prove by very exact registers that the high priesthood continued in the family of Zadok not only from the building of the temple to the destruction of it, that is to say for the space of four hundred years, but even to the time of Antiochus Epiphanes. The rest of the mis- fortunes of Eli, the victory obtained by the Philistines, the taking of the ark, the confusion which brought on the labour and the death of tiie wife of Phinehas, who expired, "saying, name the ciiild Ichabod, for the glory is de- parted from Israel," chap. iv. 19, &c. the violent death of Eli; all these events are fully known. I hasten to the chief design of this discourse. Tiie extreme rigour which God used towards Eli, and tho terrible judgments with which he jiunished the indulgence of this unhappy parent, seemed to oflend some who have not attended to the great guilt of a [tarent, who neglects to devote his children to God by a holy education. I am going to endeavour to remove this offence, and, in order to do so, I shall not conftne myself to my text, but shall treat of the s(d)ject at large, and show you, as our time will allow, first, the crimes and miseries of a j)arent, who neglects the education of his fami- ly; and secondly, the means of preventing lliem. We will direct our reflections so that they may instruct not only heads of families, but all our hearers, and so that what we shall say on the education of children, by calling to mind the faults committed in our own, may enable us to correct them. To neglect the education of our children is to be ungrateful to God, whose wonderful power created and preserved them. With what mar- vellous care does a kind Providence watch over the formation of our infants, and adjust all the different parts of their bodies? With what marvellous care does a kind Pro- vidence provide for their first wants: for at first they are like those idols, of which the prophet speaks, " they have eyes and see not, they have ears and hear not, they have feet and cannot walk." Frail, infirm, and incapable of providing for their wants, they find a suffi- cient supply in those feelings of humanity and tenderness with which nature inspires all hu- man kind. Who can help admiring that, at a time when infants have nothing that can please, God enables them to move the compassion of their parents, and to call them to their succour by a language more eloquent and more pa- thetic than the best studied discourses? With what marvellous care does a kind Pro- vidence preserve them amidst a multitude of accidents which seem to conspire together to snatch them away in their tenderest infancy, and in all their succeeding years. Who but a Being almighty and all-merciful could preserve a machine so brittle, at a time when the least shock would be sufficient to destroy it. With what astonishing care does a kind Pro- vidence provide for those wants, which old age incapacitates us to supply? Who can shut his eyes against all these wonders without sinking into the deepest stupidity, and without expos- ing himself to the greatest misery? To neglect the education of our children is to refuse to retrench that depraviltj which we com- municated to them. Suppose the Scriptures had not spoken expressly on the subject of ori- ginal depravity, yet it would argue great stu- pidity to question it. As soon as infants dis- cover any signs of reason, they discover signs of depravity, and their malice appears as their ideas unfold themselves. Sin in them is a fire at firet concealed, ne.xt emitting a few sparks, and at last bursting into a great blaze, unless it be prevented in time. Whence do they derive so great an infection? Can we doubt it, my brethren? They derive it from us, and by com- municating our nature we communicate our 24 THE FATAL œNSEQUENCES OF [Ser. LV. depravity. It is impossible, being our children, that they should not be depraved, as we are; for, to use the language of scripture, their "fa- thers are Aniorites and their niotliers are Hitt- ites," Ezek. xvi. 13. Here Iwisli I could give you some notion of this mortifying mystery; I wish I could remove the dilficulties wliich pre- vent your seeing it; I wish I could show you what a union there is between the brain oi an infant and that of its mother, in order to con- vince you that sin passes from the parent to the child. What! can we in cool blood behold our chil- dren in an abyss, into which we have plunged them; can we be sensible tliat we have done this evil, and not endeavour to relieve them? Not being able to make tiiem innocent, shall we not endeavour to render tliem penitent? Ah! vic- tims of my depravity, unhappy lieirs of the crimes of your parents, innocent creatures, born only to suffer, I think I ought to reproach my- self for all the pains you feel, all the tears you slied, and all the sighs you utter. Methinks, every time you cry, you reprove me for my in- sensibility and injustice. At least, it is rig'ht, that, as I acknowledge myself the cause ofthe evil, I should employ myself in repairing it, and endeavour to renew your nature by endeavour- ing to renew my own. This reflection leads lis to a third point. To neglect the education of our children is to be wanting in that tenderness, which is so much their due. What can we do for ihem? What inhe- ritance can we transmit to them? Titles? They are often nothing but empty sounds without meaning and reality. Riches? They often " make themselves wings and fly away," Prov. xxiii. 5. Honours? They are often mixed with disagreeable circumstances, which poison all the pleasure. It is a religious education, piety, and the fear of God, that makes the fairest in- heritance, the noblest succession, that we can leave our families. If any worldly care may lawfully occupy the mind of a dying parent, when in his last mo- ments the soul seems to be called to detach it- self from every worldly concern, and to think of nothing but eternity, it is that which has our cliildren for its object. A Christian in such cir- cumstances finds his heart divided between the family, which he is leaving in the world, and the holy relations, which he is going to meet in heaven. He feels himself pressed by turns be- tween a desire to die, which is most advan- tageous for him, and a wish to live, which seems most beneficial to his family. He says, " I am in a strait betwixt two, having a desire to de- part, and to be with Christ, which is far better; nevertheless, to abide in the flesh is more need- ful for you," Phil. i. 23, 24. We are terrified at that crowd of dangers, in which we leave these dear parts of ourselves. The perils seem to magnify as we retire from the sight of them. One while we fear for their health, another while we tremble for their salvation. My bre- thren, can you think of any thing more proper to prevent or to pacify such emotions, than the practice of tliat duty wliich we are now pressing as alwolutuly necessary? A good fatiicr on his death-lied puts on tiie same dispositions to his children as Jesus Clirist adorned himself with in regard to his disciples immediately before the consummation of that great sacrifice, which he was about to offer to llie justice of his Father. The soul of our divine Saviour was affected with the dangers to which his dear disciples were going to be exposed. Against these gloomy thoughts he opposed two noble reflec- tions. First, he remembered the care which he had taken of them, and tlie great principle» whicii he had formed in their minds: and se- condly, he observed that " siiadow of the Al- miglity, under which he had taught them to abide," Ps. xci. 1» "I have manifested thy name unto the men which thou gavest me. While 1 was with them in the world, I kept them in thy name, and none of tliein is lost but tiie son of perdition. They are not ofthe world, even as I am not of the world," John xvii. 6, 12, 16. Tliis is the first reflection. " Now I am no more in the world, but these are in the world, and I come to thee. Holy Father, keep through thine own name those whom thou hast given me, that they may be one, as we are. I pray not that thou shouldst take them out of the world, but that thou shouldst keep them from the evil. Sanctify them through thy truth, thy word is truth. Father, I will that they also, whom thou hast given me, be with me where I am," ver. 11, 15, 17. This is the se- cond reflection. These two reflections are impenetrable shields, and a parent should never separate them. Would you be in a condition to oppose the second of these shields against such attacks as the gloomy thoughts just now mentioned will make upon your hearts on that day in which you quit the world and leave your chil- dren in it' endeavour now to arm yourself with the first. Would you have them " abide under the shadow of the Almighty?" Inculcate his fear and his love in their hearts. Would you be able to say as Jesus Christ did, " Holy Fa- ther, I will that they whom thou hast given me be with mc, that they may behold my glory; keep them tiirough thy name?" Put yourself now into a condition to enable you then to say to God as Christ did, " I have given them to thy word, they are not of the world, even as I am not ofthe world." To neglect the education of our children is to let loose madmen against the state, instead of furnishing it with good rulers or good sub- jects. That child intended for the church, what will he become, if he be not animated with such a spirit as ought to enliven a minister of religion? He will turn out a trader in sacred things, and prove himself a spy in our families, a fomenter of faction in the slate, who, under pretence of glorifying God, will set the world on fire. That other child intended for the bar, what will he become, unless as much pains be taken to engage Inm to love justice as to make him know it, or to make him not disguise it as well as understand iL> He will prove himself an incendiary, who will sow seeds of division in families, render law suits eternal, and reduce to indigence and beggary even those clients, whose causes he shall have art enough to gain. And that child, whom you have rashly deter- mined to push into the highest offices of state without forming in him sucii dispositions as are necessary in eminent posts, what will he be- come? A foolish or a partial judge, who will Sen. LV.] A BAD EDUCATION. 25 pronounce on the fortunes and lives of his fel- low citizens just as chance or caprice may im- pel him: a public blood-sucker, who will live upon the blood and substance of those whom he ought to support: a tyrant, who will raze and depopulate the very cities and provinces which he oujrlit to defend. 'I'he least indulgence of the bad inclinations of children somelinies produces the most fatal effects in society. This is exemplified in the life of David, whose memory may be truly re- proached on this article, for he was one of the most weak of all parents. Observe his indulg- ence of Aninon. It produced incest. Remark his indulgence of Absalom, who bcsouglit him to allow his brethren to partake of a feast, whicli he had prepared. It produced an assas- sination. See his weak fondness of the same Absalom, wiio endeavoured to make his way to tiie throne by mean and clownish manners, affecting to sliake jiands with the Israelites, and to embrace and kiss tiiem (these are the terms of Scripture,) and practising all such popular airs as generally precede and predict sedition. This produced a civil war. Remark how he indulged Adonijah, who made himself chariots, and set up a retinue of fifty men. The sacred historian tells us, that " his father had not dis- pleased him at any time, in saying, why hast thou done so?" 1 Kings, i. 6. This produced a usurpation of the throne and the crown. To neglect the education of your children is to furnish them with arms against rjourselves. You complain that the children, whom you have brought up with so much tenderness, are the torment of your life, that they seem to re- proach you for living so long, and that, though they have derived their being and support from you, yet they refuse to contribute tlie least part of their superfluities to assist and comfort you! You ouglit to find fault with yourselves, for their depravity is a natural consequence of such principles as you have taught them. Had you accustomed them to respect order, tiiey would not now refuse to conform to order: but they would perform the greatest of all duties; they would be the strength of your weakness, the vigour of your reason, and the joy of your old a^e. To neglect the education of children is to prepare torments for a. future state, the bare ap- prehension of which must give extreme i)ainto every heart capable of feeling. It is beyond a doubt, that remorse is one of the chief punish- ments of the damned, and who can question, whether the most excruciating remorse will be excited by this thougiit; I have plunged my children into this abyss, into which I have plunged myself? Imagine a parent of a family discovering among tiie crowd of reprobates a son, whom he himself led thither, and who addresses to him this terrible language. " Barbarous father, what animal appetites, or what worldly views inclined you to give me existence.' to what a desperate condition you have reduced me! See, wretch that you are, see tiiese flames which bum and consume me. Observe tliis thick smoke which suftbcates me. Behold the heavy chains with which I am loaded. These are the fatal consequences of the principles you gave me. Was it not enough to bring me into the Vol. II.— 4 world a sinner.' was it necessary to put me in arms against Almighty God? Was it not enough to communicate to me natural depravity? must you add to that the venom of a pernicious edu- cation? Was it not enough to exfiose me to the misfortunes inseparable from life? must you plungo me into thoFc wliich follow death? Re- turn me, cruel parent, return nio to nothing, wiicnce you took me. Take from mo the fata! existence you gave mo. Show me mountains and hills to fall on me, and hide me from the anger of my judire; or, if that divine vengeance whicli pursues thee, will not enable thee to do so, 1 mj-sclf will become tiiy tormentor; I will for ever present myself, a frightful spectacle be- fore thine eyes, and by those eternal liowlings, which I will incessantly pour into thine ears, I will reproach thee, through all eternity I will reproach thee, with my misery and despair." Let us turn our eyes from these gloomy images, let us observe objects more worthy of the majesty of this place, and the holiness of our ministry. To refuse to dedicate our child- ren to God by a religious education, is to refuse those everlasting pleasures, which as much sur- pass our thoughts as our expressions. It is a fiimous question in the schools, whe- ther we shall remember in heaven the connex- ions we had in this world? Whether glorified spirits shall know one anotlier? Whether a fa- ther will recollect his son, or a son his father? And so on. I will venture to assert, that they who have taken the aftirmalive side, and they who have taken the negative on this question, have often done so without any reason. On the one side, the first have pretended to establish their thesis on this principle, that something would be v.-anting to our happines.s if we were not to know in a future state those persons, with wiiom we had been united by the tenderest connexions in this present world. On the other hand, if we know, say the par- tisans of the opposite opinion, the condition of our friends in a future state, how will it be possible that a parent should be happy in the possession of a heaven, in which his children have no sliaro; and how can he possibly relish pleasure at the riglit hand of (iod, while he revolves this dreadful thought in his mind, my cliildren are now, and will for ever he tor- mented witli tiie devil? It siiould seem, tiie proof and the objection are equally groundless. The enjoyment of (iod is so sulllcient to satiate a soul, that it cannot be considered as necessary to the hap- piness of it to renew such connexions as were formed during a momentary passage through tiiis world. I oppose this against the argument for the first opinion: and I oppose the same against the objection, for the enjoyment of God is every way so sufficient to satiate a soul, that it can love nothing but in God, and that its felicity cannot be altered by the miseries of those with whom there will then be no con- nexion. A consideration of another kind has always made me incline to the opinion of those who take tlie aflirmative side of this question. The perfections of God are here concealed under innumerable veils. How ofien does he seem to countenance iniquity by granting a profusion of favours to the contrivers of the most infernal 26 THE FATAL CONSEQUENCES OF [Ser. LV. schemes? How often does he seem to declare himself against innocence by the misfortunes whicii lie leaves the innocent to siitl'ur? How often have we seen tyrants on a throne, and good people in irons? Does not this awful phenomenon furnish us with an irrefragable argument for the doctrine of a general judg- ment and a future state? Which of your preachers has not fre((uently exhorted you to "judge nothing before the time," 1 Cor. iv. 5; at the end of tiie time comes " the restitu- tion of all things," Acts iii. 21, whicli will justify Providence? Now, it siioiild seem, this argument, which none but inhdels and lil)ertiiies deny, and which is generally received by all Christians, and by all philosophers, this argument, 1 say, favours, not to say estal)lislies in an incontestible man- ner, the o|)inioii of those who think that the saints will know one another in the next life. Without this how could we acquiesce in the justice of the sentence, which will then be pronounced on all? Observe St. Paul, whose ministry was continually counteracted. What motive supported him under so much opposi- tion? Certainly it was the expectation of seeing one day with his own eyes the conquest which he obtained for Jesus Christ; souls which he had plucked out of the jaws of Satan; be- lievers whom he had guided to eternal happi- ness. Hear what he said to the Thcssalonians, '* What is our hope, our joy, our crown of re- joicing? Are not even ye in the presence of our Lord Jesus Christ at his coming? For ye are our glory and joy," chap. ii. 19, 20. Now, tills is the hope, this is the crown, which I propose to you, heads of families, to engage you to dedicate your children to God by a religious education. It was this thought whicli supported one of the wisest of the heathens against the fears of death, I mean Cato of Utica. No man iiad a greater atVection for a son, than he had for his. No man bore the loss with greater firmness and magnanimity. " O hap|)y day, when 1 shall quit tiiis wretched crowd, and join that divine and happy company of noble souls, who have quitted the world before me! 1 shall there meet not only these illustrious personages, but my dear Cato, who, 1 will venture to say, was one of the best of men, of the best natural di.spo- sition, and the most punctual in tiie discliarge of his duties, that ever was. I have put his body on the funeral piU', whereas he should have placed mine there; i)ut his soul has not left me, and he has only ste[)ped first into a country where I shall soon join him." If this hope made so great an inqtression on the mind of a pagan, what ouglit it not to pro- duce in the heart of a Christian? What infinite pleasure, when tlie voice shall cry, " Arise ye dead," to see those children whom God gave you? What superior delight, to behold those whom an immature death snatched from us, and tlie loss of whom had cost us so many tears? What supreme satisfaction, to embrace those who dosed our eyes, and performed the last kind otilces for us? O the unspeakable joy of that Christian father, who shall walk at the head of a Christian family, and present himself with all his happy train before Jesus Christ, otlering to him hearts worthy to serve such a master, and saying to him, "behold me, and the children which God hath given me," Heb. ii. 13. We have been speaking of the fatal conse- quences of an irreligious education; and now we wish we could put you all into a condition to prevent them. But, alas! how can some of you reduce our exhortations to practice? you disconsolate fathers, you distressed mothers, from whom persecution has torn away these dear parts of yourselves, ye weeping Davids, ye mourning Rachels, who, indeed, do not weep because your children " are not," but because, though they are, and though you gave them existence, you cannot give them a reli- gious education? Ah! how can you obey our voice? Who can calm the cruel fears, which by turns divide your souk? What results from all the conllicts, which pass within you, and which rend your hearts asunder? Will you go and expose yourselves to persecution? Will you leave your children alone to be persecuted? Will you obey the voice that commands, "flee out of Babylon, and deliver every man his own soul," Jer. i. 6; or that which crie», " Take the young child?" Matt. ii. 20. O dreadful alternative! Must you be driven, in some sort, to make an option between their salvation and yours? must you sacrifice yours to theirs, or theirs to your own? Ah! cruel problem! Inhuman suspense! Thou tyrant, is not thy rage sufliciently glutted by destroying our material temples? must you lay your barbarous hands on tlie temples of the Holy Ghost' Is it not enough to plunder us of our property, must you rob us of our families? Is it not enough to render life bitter, would you make eternity desperate and intole- rable? But, it is not to tyrants that we address ourselves, they are inaccessible to our voice, or inflexible to our complaints. It is to God alone, who turns them as he thinks proper, that we address our prayers. Hagar found herself banisiied into a desert, and she had nothing to support her but a few pieces of bread, and a bottle of water. The water being spent, her dear Ishmael was ready to die with thirst. She laid him under a bush, and only desired that she might not see him die. She rambled to some distance, wept as she went, and said, " Let me not see the death of the child," Gen. xxi. IG, iic. See, she cannot help it, she sits " over against him, lifts iqi her voice, and weeps." (lod heard the voice of the mother and the child, and, by an angel, said unto her, " Wliat ailcth thee, Hagar? fear not, for God hath heard the voice of the lad. Arise, take hold of his hand, and lift him up, for I will make him a great nation." See what a source of con.sqlation 1 open to you! Lift up the voice and weep. "O Father of spirits, God of the spirits of all flesh," Heb. xii. 9; Numb. xvi. 22. Thou Supreme, whose essence is love, and whose chief character is mercy, thou who wast touched to see Nineveh repent, and who wouldst not involve in the general destruction the many infants at nurse in that city, " who could not discern between their right hand and their left," John iv. 11; wilt not thou regard with eyes of affection and pity our numerous children, who caimot discern Ser. LV.] A BAD EDUCATION. 27 truth from error, who cannot believe, because they have not heard, who cannot " liear with- out a preacher," and to whom, alas! no preacher is sent? Rom. x. 14. But yon, happy fathers, yon, mothers, fa- vourites of heaven, who assemble your children around you "a.s a hen galhereth her chickens under her wings," Matt, xxiii. 37; can you neglect a duty, which is impracticable to others? That tyrants and persecutors should display their fury by making havoc of our children, and by offering them to tiie devil, is, I allow, extremely sliockiiig, but there is nothing in it very wonderful: but that Ciiristian fathers and mothers should conspire together in such a tragical design would be a spectacle incompa- rably more shocking, and the horror of which the blackest colours are unable to portray. How forcible soever the motives, which we have alleged, may be, I fear they will be inef- fectual, and such as will not influence the greatest part of you. It must be allowed, that, if there be any case, to which the words of our Saviour are applicable, it is this of which we are speaking, " strait is the gate, and narrow is the way, which leadeth unto life, and few there be that find it," Matt. vii. 14. A reformation of the false ideas which you form on the education of children, is, so to speak, the first step which you ought to take in the road set before you tiiis day. No, it is not such vague instructions as you give your children, such superficial pains as you take to make them virtuous, such general exhortations as you address to them, is it not all this, that constitutes such a religious education as God requires you to give them. Entertain notions more rational, and remember the few maxims, which I am going to propose to you as the conclusion of this discourse. First maxim. Delays, always dangerous in cases of practical religion, are peculiarly fatal. in the case of education. As soon as children see the light, and begin to think and reason, we should endeavour to form them to \nety. Let us place the fear of God in these young hearts, before the world can get possession of them, before the power of habit be united to that of constitution. Ijct us avail ourselves of the flexibilitj' of their organs, the fidelity of their memories, and the facility of their con- ceptions, to render their duty pleasing to them by the ease with which they are taught to dis- charge it. Second maxim. Although the end of the divers methods of educating cliildren ought to be the same, yet it should be varied according to their difterent characters. Let us study our children with as much application as we have studied ourselves. Both these studies are at- tended with difiiculties; and as self-love often prevents our knowing ourselves, so a natural fondness for our children renders it extremely difficult for us to discover their propensities. TIdrd maxim. A procedure, wise in itself, and proper to inspire children with virtue, may sometimes be rendered useless by symptoms of passion, with which it is accompanied. We cannot educate them well without a prudent mixture of severity and gentleness. But on the one hand, what success can we expect from gentleness, if they discover, that it is not the i'ruit of our care to reward what in them is worthy of reward, but of a natural inclination, which we have not the courage to resist, and which makes us yield more to the motions of our animal machine, than to the dictates of reason? . On the other iiand, what good can they derive from our seveiity, if they see, that it proceeds from humour and caprice more than from our hatred to sin, and our desire to free tliem from it' If our eyes sparkle, if we take a bia-h tone of voice, if our mouths froth, when we chastise them, what good can come of such chastisements? Fuurlk maxim. The best means of procuring a good education lose ail their force, unless they be sup|)orted by the examples of such as employ tiiem. Example is also a great motive, and it is especially sue!» to youth. Children know how to imitate before they can speak, before they can reason, and, so to speak, before they are born. In their mothers' wombs, at the breasts of their nurses, they receive impres- sions from exterior objects, and take the form of all that strikes them. What success, mise- rable mother, can you expect from 3'our exhor- tations to piety, while your children see you yourself all taken up with the world, and its amusements and pleasures; passing a great part of your life in gaming, and in forming criminal intrigues, which, far from hiding from your family, you expose to the siglit of all mankind? What success can you expect from your exhortations to your cliildren, you wretch- ed father, when they iiear you blaspheme your Creator, and see you living in debauchery, drowning your reason in wine, and gluttony, and so on? Fifth maxim. A liberty, innocent when it is taken before men, becomes criminal, when it is taken before tender minds, not yet formed. What circumspection, what vigilance, I had almost said, what niceties does this maxim en- gage us to observe? Certain words spoken, as it were, into the air, certain imperceptible allu- sions, certain smiles, escaping before a child, and which he has not been taught to suspect, are sometimes snares more fatal to his inno- cence than the most profane discourses, yea, they are often more dangerous than the most pernicious examples, for them he has been taught to ab'.ior. Sixth maxim. The indefatigable pains, which we ought always to take in educating our chil- dren, ought to be redoubled on these decisive events wliich influences both the present life, and the future state. For example, the kind of life to which we devote them, is one of these decisive events. A good father regu- lates his views in this respect, not according to a rash determination made when the child was in the cradle, but according to observa- tions deliberately made on the abilities and manners of the child. Companions too are to be considered as de- ciding on the future condition of a child. A good father with this view will choose such so- cieties as will second his own endeavours, he will remember the maxim of St. Paul, " Evil communications corrupt good manners," 1 Cor. XV. 33; for he luiows, that a dissolute compan- 28 GENERAL MISTAKES. [Skr. LVI. ion lias often eradicated from the Jieart of a Touth all the good seeds which a pious family nad sown there. Above all, marriag;e is one of these decisive steps in life. A good father of a family, unites his children to others by the two bonds of vir- tue and religion. How can an intimate union be formed with a person of impious principles, without familiarizing the virtuous by degrees with impiety, witiiout losing by little and little that horror which impiety would insjiire, and without imbibing by degrees the same spirit' So necessary is a bond of virtue. That of re- ligion is no less so, for the crime which drew the most cutting rejjroots upon the Israelites after the captivity, and wliich brought U])on them the greatest judgments, was that of con- tracting marriages with women not in the cove- nant. Are such marriages less odious now, when by a profane mixture people unite " light and darkness, Christ and Belial, the temple of God and idols.'" 2 Cor. vi. 14, 15. Are such marriages less hateful now, when, by a horrible partition, the children, if there be any, are mu- tually ceded before hand, and in cold blood dis- posed of thus: the sons shall be taught the truth, the daughters shall be educated in error, the boys shall be for heaven, the girls for hell, a son for God, a daughter for tlie devil. Sevenlli maxim. The best means for the edu- cation of ciiildrcn must be accompanied with fervent prayer. If you have paid any atten- tion to tiie n)a.\ims wc have proposed, I shall not be surprised to hear you exclaim, " Who is sufficient for these things?" 2 Cor. ii. 16. But, if it bo the fear of not succeeding in edu- cating your children, whicii dictates this lan- guage, and not that indolence, which tries to get rid of the labour, be you fully persuaded, that the grace of God will triumph over your great intirmities. Let us address to him the most fervent prayers for the happiness of those children, who are so dear to us, and let us be- lieve that they will return in benedictions upon them. Let each parent collect together all his piety, and then let him give himself up to the tenderest emotions towards his children. O God! who didst present thyself to us last Lord's day under the amiable idea of a i)arent " pity- ing them that fear thee as a father pitieth his children," Ps. ciii. 13. O God! wiio thyself lovest thy Son with infinite tenderness and ve- hemence: O God! author of the tender aliec- tions, which unite me to the cliildron thou hast given mo, bless the pains 1 take in their edu- cation: disobedient children, my God, 1 disown. Let me see them die in infancy, r;itli(T tlian go along with the torrent of general immorality, and " run" with the children of the world to their " o.xccss «1' riot," 1 I'et. iv. I. I pray for thfir sanctification with an ardour a thou- sand times more vehement than 1 denire their fortune: and the fii-st of all my wi.shes is to be able to |)r('.s(!iit llnim to thee on that great day, when tiiou wilt pronounce the doom of all mankind, and to say to lliee then, "Lord, be- hold, hero am I, and the children thou hast given mo." May God excite such prayers, and answer them! To him be honour and glory for ever. Amen. SERMON LVI. GENERAL MISTAKES. Ro.MANS xii. 2. Be not conformed to this world . Of all the discourses delivered in this pulpit those which deserve the greatest deference, and usually obtain the least, are such as treat of general mistakes. What subjects require a greater deference.' Our design in treating of them, is to dissipate those illusions, with which the whole world is familiar, which are autlior- izcd by the multitude, and which, like epidemi- cal diseases, inflicted sometimes by Providence on public bodies, involve tiie state, the church, and individuals. Yet are any discourses less respected than such as these? To attack gene- ral mistakes is to excite the displeasure of all who favour them, to disgust a whole auditory, and to acquire the most odious of all titles, I mean tiiat of public censor. A preacher is then obliged to choose either never to attack such mistakes as the multitude think fit to au- thorize, or to announce the advantages which ho may promise himself', if he adapt his sub- jects to the taste of his auditors, and touch their disorders only so far as to acconnnodate their crimes to their consciences. Let us not hesitate what part to take. St. Paul determines us by his example. I am go- ing, to-day, in imitation of this apostle to guard you against the rocks, where the many are shipwrecked. He exhorts us, in the words of the text, not to take " the world for a model!" " the world," that is, the crowd, the multitude, society at large. But what society has he in view? Is it that of ancient Rome, which he describes as extremely depraved in the begin- ning of this epistle? Docs ho say nothing of our world, our cities and provinces? We are going to examine this, and I fear I shall be able to prove to you, that our multitude is a dangerous guide to show us the way to heaven; and, to confine ourselves to a tew articles. I sliall prove that they are bad guides to direct us, first, in regard to liiith; — secondly, in regard to tlie worslnp which God requires of usj — thirdly, in regard to morality; and lastly, in re- gard to the hour of death. In these four views, 1 shall enforce the words of our text, " Be not (■(jnf'ormed to this world." This is tlio whole plan of this discourse. 1. The multitude is a bad guide to direct our failli. We will not introduce here the famous controversy on this question, whether a great ninnber form a |)resuniption in favour of' any religion, or whether universality be a certain evi- d(!nce of the true Christian church? How often has this (piestion been debated and determined! How often have we proved against one commu- nity, which displays the number of its professors with so nmch parade, that if the pretence wore wcll-founle, all tongue»," Rev. v. 9; ye make the crowd, ye fill the court of the sovereign of the world; and, when wo refuse to conform ourselves to this world, we imitate you; and when the slaves of the workl sliall be loaded with chains of dark- ness, we shall share with you the "river of pleasures" at the right hand of that God whom yon serve, and to who.se service, we, like you, devote ourselves. God grant ns this grace! To him be honour and glory for ever. Amen. Ser. LVU.] THE ADVANTAGES OF PIETY. 35 SERMON LVII. THE ADVANTAGES OF PIETl. 1 Timothy iv. 8. Godlineas is prnfUnblc unto all things, having; promise of the life that noio is, and of that which is to come. There never was a disposition more odi- ous, or more unjust tlmii tliat of tlie proHirie Jews, of whom Jeremiah speaks in tiie forty- f<>urth chapter of his prophecies. lie liad ad- dressed to tliein the most pressing and patheti- cal e.xiiortations to dissuade them from wor- shipping tiie goddess Isis, and to divert tliem from the infamous dehaucherics, with which the Egvptians accompanied it. Their re[)ly was in tiiese words, " As for the word tliatthou hast spoken unto us in the name of the Lord, we will not hearken unto tliec: hut we will certainly do whatsoever thing goeth forth out of our own moutii, to burn incense nnto the <|ucen of heaven, and to pour out drink-ofler- ings unto her, as we have done, we and our fatlicrs, our kings and our princes, in the cities of Judah, and in the streets of Jerusalem, for then had we plenty of victuals, and were well and saw no evil: but since we left off to burn incense to the queen of heaven, and to pour out drink-offerings unto lier, we have wanted all things, and have been consumed by tlie sword, and by the famine," ver. 16 — 18. No- thing can equal the sacrifices which religion requires of us; therefore nothing ought to equal the recompense which it sets before tis. Sometimes it requires us, like the father of the faithful, to quit our country and our relations, and to go out, not knowing whither we go, ac- cording to the e.\-pression of St. Paul, Heb. xi. S. Sometimes it requires us to tread in the bloody steps of those who " had trial of cruel mockings and scourgings, yea, of bonds and imprisonment. Some were stoned, others were sawn asunder, were teuipted, were slain with the sword, wandered about in sheep skins, and goat skins, being destitute, atllicted, torment- ed," ver. 36, 37. Always it calls us to triumph over our passions, to renounce our own senses, to mortify the flesh with its desires, and to bring all the thoughts of our minds, and all the emotions of our hearts into obedience to Jesus Christ. To animate us to sacrifices so great, it is necessary we should find in religion a superiority of happiness and reward, and it would be to rob it of all its disciples, to repre- sent it as fatal to the interests of such as pur- sue it. As this disposition is odious, so it is unjust. The miserable Jews, of whom the prophet Jeremiah speaks, did indeed consult the pro- phets of God, but they would not obey their voice; they would sometimes suspend their idolatrous rites, but they would never entirely renoimce them: they discovered some zeal for the e.xterior of religion, but they paid no attention to the spirit and substance of it, and as God refused to grant to this outside of piety such advantages as he had promised to the truly godly, they complained that the true re- ligion liad been to them a source of misery. Were they the Jews of the prophet's time? Are tlK.'v only Jews who make such a criminal complaint? Are they the only persons, who, placing religion in certain exterior perform ances, and mutilated virtues, complain that they d(> not feel that peace of conscience, those ineffable transports, that anticipated heaven, wliif;h are Ibretastes and earnests of eternal joy? We are going to-day, my brethren, to set before you the treasures, which God opens to us in communion with him: but we are going at the same time to trace out the cha- racter of those, on whom they are bestowed. 'I'liis is the design of this discourse, and for this purpose we will divide it into two parts: First, v.'e will examine what the apostle moans by "godliness," in the words of the text: and secondly, Point out the advantages affixed to it. " Godliness is profitable unto all things, having promise of the life that now is, and of that which is to come." I. What is gndliness or piety? It is diffi- cult to include an idea of it in the bounds of what is called a definition. Piety is a habit of knowledge in the mind — rectitude in the con- science — sacrifice in the life — and zeal in the heart. By the knowledge, that guides it, it is distinguished from the visions of the supersti- tious: by the rectitude, from whence it pro- ceeds, it is distinguished from hypocrisy; by the sacrifice, which justifies it, it is distinguish- ed from tlic unmeaning obedience of him, who goes as a happy constitution leads him; in fine, by the fervour that animates it, it is distin- guished from the languishing emotions of the lukewarm. 1. Piety supposes knoivlcdge in the mind. Wlien God reveals a doctrine of religion to us, he treats us as reasonable beings, capable of examination and reflection. He does not re- quire us to admit any truth without evidence. If he would have us believe the existence of a first cause, he engraves it on every particle of the universe. If he would have us believe the divinity of revelation, he would make some character of that divinity sliiiie in every part of it. Would he have us believe the immortality of the soul, he attests it in every page of the sacred book. Accordingly, with- out previous knowledge, piety can neither support us under temptations, nor enable us to render to God such homage as is worthy of him. It cannot support us in temptation. When Satan endeavours to seduce us he offers us tlie allurements of present and sensible good, and exposes in our sight the kingdoms of the world and tiie glory of them. If we have no- thing to oppose against him but superficial opinions of a precarious and ignorant system, we shall not find oureelves in a condition to witlistand him. Nor can jiiety destitute of knowledge ena- ble us to render to God such worship as is worthy of him: for when do we render to God worship suitable to his majesty? Is it whei> submitting to the church, and saying to a man, in the language of Scripture, Rabbi, Rabbi, we place bim on a sovereign throne, and make our reason fall prostrate before his 86 THE ADVANTAGES OF PIETY. [Ser. Lvn. intelligence? No, certainly; it is wlien, sub- mitting ourselves to the decisions of fJod, we regard him as tlie source of truth and know- ledge, and believe, on his testimony, doctrines the most abstruse, and mysteries the most sub- lime. True piety is wise; it rises out of those pro- found rellections which tlie godly man makes on the excellence of religion. " Open thou mine eyes," said the prophet formerly, " that I may beiiold wondrous things out of thy law. I have more understanding than all my teacli- ers, for thy testimonies are my meditation. Tliy word is a lamp unto my feet, and a light unto my path. Mine eyes prevent tiie night watches, that I might meditate in tliy word," Ps. cxix. 18. 99. 105. 148. This is the first character of godliness, and this character distinguishes it from supersti- tion. A superstitious man does not derive his principles from the source of knowledge. A family tradition, a tale, a legend, a monkish fable, the reverie of a confessor, the design of a council, this is his law, this is his light, this is his gospel. 2. Piety must be sincere, and this distin- guishes it from hypocrisy. A hypocrite puts on all the appearance of religion, and adorns himself with tiie most sacred part of it. Ob- Berve his deportment, it is an affected gravity, which nothing can alter. Hear his conversa- tion, he talks witii a studied industry on the most solemn sul)jcct8, he is full of sententious sayings, and pious maxims, and so severe, that he is ready to take oflence at the most innocent actions. Mind his dress, it is precise and sin- gular, and a sort of sanctity is affected in all his furniture, and in all his ccjuipage. Follow him to a place of worship, there particularly his hypocrisy erects its tribunal, and tiiere he displays his religion in all its pomp. There he seems more assiduous than the most wise and zealous Christians. Tliere he lifts up his eyes to heaven. There ho sighs. Tiiere he bedews the eartli witli his tears. In one word, whatever seems venerable in tlie churcii he takes pains to practise, and ple:isure to dis- play. Jesus Christ has given us the original of this portrait in the persons of tiie pharisees of his time; and tlie only inconvenience we find in describing such characters is, tliat, speak where we will, it seems as if we intended to depict such individuals of the present age as eeein to have taken these ancient hypocrites for their model. Never was the art of coun- terfeiting piety carried to sucii perfection by any men as l)y tlio old Pharisees. They separated themselves from a commerce with mankind, whom they called in contempt " people of the world."» They made long prayers. They fasted every Monday and Friday. They lay on planks and stones. Tliey put thorns on the bottom of tlieir gowns to tear their flesh. They wore strait girdles about their bodies. They paid tithes, not only according to law, but beyond wiiat the law required. Above all, thoy were great makers of proselytes, and this was in Bome sort their distinguishing charac- * See Godwin'» Mosi'i and Aaron. Book I. Chap. X. Sect. 7. t«r, and when they had made one, they never failed to instruct him thoroughly to hate all such as were not of their opinion on particular questions. All this was show, all this pro- ceeded from a deep hypocrisy: by all this they had no other design than to acquire repu- tation for holiness, and to make themselves masters of the people, wiio are more easily taken with exterior appearances than with solid virtue. Such is the character of hypocrisy, a cha- racter that God detests. How often does Jesus Christ denounce anatliemas against people of this ciiaracter? How oflen does he cry con- cerning them, " wo, wo?" Sincerity is one character of true piety, " O Lord, thou hast proved my heart, thou hast visited me in the night, tliou hast tried me, and shall find no- thing; I am purposed that my mouth shall not transgress. Lord, thou knowest all things, thou knowest that I love thee," Ps. xvii. 3; John xxi. n. This character makes our love to God resemble his to us. When God gives himself to us in religion, it is not in mere ap- pearances and protestations: but it is with real sentiments, emanations of heart. 3. Piety supposes sacrifice, and by this we distinguish it from a devotion of humour and constitution, with which it has been too often confounded. There is a devotee of temper and habit, who, really, has a happy di.sposi- tion, but which may be attended with danger- ous consequences. Such a man consults less the law of God to regulate his conduct than his own inclinations, and the nature of his con- stitution. As, by a singular favour of heaven, he has not received one of those irregular con- stitutions, which most men have, but a happy natural disposition, improved too by a good edu- cation, he finds in himself but little indispo- sition to the general maxims of Christianity. Being naturally melancholy, he does not break out into unbridled mirth, and e.\cessive plea- sures. As he is naturally collected in himself, and not communicative, he does not follow the crowd through the turbulence and tumult of the world. As he is naturally inactive, and soon disgusted with labour and pains-taking, we never see him animated with the madne^ of gcadding about every where, weigiiing him- self down with a multitude of business, not per- mitting any tiling to happen in society without being himself the first mover, and putting to it the last iiand. These are all happy incidents; not to run into excessive pleasure, not to fol- low the crowd in the noise and tumult of the world, not to run mad with hurry, and weary himself with an infinity of busine.>is, to give up the mind to recollection, all this is worthy of praise; but what is a devotion of this kind, that owes its birth only to incidents of this sort' I compare it to the faith of the man who believes the truths of tlie gospel only through a headstrong prejudice, only because, by a lucky chance, he had a father or a tutor who believed them. As such a man cannot have a faith acceptable to God, so neither can he who obeys the laws of God, because, by a sort of chance of this kind, they are conforma- ble to his natural temper, offer to him the sa- crifice of true obedience. Had you been na- turally inclined to dissipation, you would have Ser. LVII.] THE ADVANTAGES OF PIETY. 37 been excessively dissipated, for the very same reason that you are now excessively fond of retirement. Had you been naturally indus- trious, you would have exceeded in labouring on the very principle which now inclines you to be too fond of ease and stillness. Had you been naturally inclined to mirth, you would have shown e.xcessive levity, on the very prin- ciple that now turns your gravity into gloom and melancholy. Would you know your- selves? See, examine yourselves. You say, your piety inclines you to surmount all temp- tations to dissipation; but does it enable you to resist those of retirement' it makes you firm against temptations to pleasure, but does it free you from sullenness? It enables you to surmount temptations to violent exertions, but does it raise you above littleness? The same may be said of the rest. Happy he, who ar- ranges his actions with a special regard to his own heart, inquiring what he can find there opposite to the law of God, attacking the strong holds of Satan within himself, and directing all his fire and force to that point. " They that are Christ's have crucified the flesh, with the affections and lusts. I beseech you, there- fore, brethren, by the mercies of God, that ye present your bodies a living sacrifice, holy, acceptable unto God, wliich is your reasonable service. Sacrifice and offering tiiou dost not desire, mine ears hast thou opened. Lo, I come. I delight to do thy will, O my God, yea, thy law is within my heart," Gal. v. 24; Rom. xii. 1; Ps. xl. T,&c. 4. Zeal and fervour are the last characters of piety. By this we know the godly man from such lukewarm Christians as practise the duties of religion in substance, but do so with a coldness, that sinks the value of the service. They can hear the afflictions of the church narrated without emotion, and see a confused heap of stones, sad remains of houses conse- crated to our God, without " favouring the dust thereof," according to the expression of Scripture. They can see the dimensions of the " love" of God measured, the " breadth and length, and depth and height," without feeling the least warmth from the ardour and flame of so vehement a love. They can be present at the offering of one of those lively, tender, fervent prayers, which God Almighty himself condescends to hear and answer, and for the sake of which he forgives crimes and averts judgment, without entering at all into the spirit of these subjects. Such men as these require persuasion, compulsion, and power, to force them. A man, who truly loves God, has sentiments of zeal and fervour. Observe David, see his joy before tlie ark; neither the royal grandeur, nor the prophetical gravity, nor the gazing of the populace, nor the reproaches of an inter- ested wife, could cool his zeal. Observe Elijah, " I have been," said he, " very jealous for the Lord God of Hosts; for the children of Israel have forsaken thy covenant, thrown down tliine altars, and slain thy propliets with the sword, and I, even I only am left, and they seek my life to take it away," 1 Kings xix. 10. Behold good Eli, the frost of fourscore could not chill the ardour that inflamed him. *' What is there done, my soa'" said he to the unwelcome messenger, who came to inform him of the defeat of his army: the messenger replied, " Israel is fled before the Philistines, and there hath also been a great slaughter among the people, and thy two sons Hojihni and Pliinehas are dead:" thus far he supported himself; but the man went on to say, " the ark of God is taken;" instantly on hearing that the ark was gone, he " fell backward," he could not survive the loss of that august symbol of the divine presence, but died with grief Ob- serve Nehemiah, to whom his royal master put the question, " Wliy is thy countenance sad'" said he, " Why should not my counte- nance be sad, when the city, the place of my fathers' sepulchres lieth waste, and the gates thereof are consumed with fire?" chap. ii. 2, &.C. Consider St. Paul, " We glory in tribu- lations, because the love of God is shed abroad in our hearts, by tlie Holy Ghost whicii is given unto us," Rom. v. 3. 5. Do you imagine you truly love God, while you have only languid emotions towards him, and while you reserve all your activity and fire for the world? There is between God and a believer a tender and affectionate intercourse. Godliness has its festivals and exuberances. " Flesh and blood!" Ye that "cannot inherit the kingdom of God," 1 Cor. xv. 50, ye im- pure ideas of concupiscence, depart, be gone far away from our imaginations! There is a time, in which the mystical spouse faints, and utters such exclamations as these, " I sleep, but my heart waketh. Set me as a seal upon thy heart, as a seal upon thine arm, for love is strong as death, jealousj' as cruel as the grave, the coals thereof are coals of fire, wliioh hath a most vehement flame. Many waters cannot quench love, neither can floods drown it," Cant. V. 2. These are some characters of piety. Let us go on to examine the advantages of it. II. Our apostle says, " godliness is profitable unto all things, having promise of the life that now is, and of that which is to come." There is an enormous difference between these two sorts of blessings. The blessings of tlie life to come are so far superior to the blessings of the present life, that when we can assure ourselves of the first, we ought to give ourselves very little concern about the last. To add a drop of water to the boundless ocean; to add a tem- poral blessing to the immense felicities, which happy spirits enjoy in the other life, is almost the same thing. St. Paul tells us, that tlie idea of life to come so absorbs the idea of the present life, that to consider these two objects in this point of view, his eyes could hardly get sight of tiie one, it was so very diminutive, and his mind reckoned the whole as notiiing: " Our light atfliction, which is but for a moment, worketh for us a far more exceeding and eternal weight of glory, while we look not at the tilings wliich are seen, which are temporal, but at the things which are not seen, which are eternal," 2 Cor. iv. 17, 18. Few imitate this apostle. The present, be- cause it is present; and in spite of its rapidity, fi.xes our eyes, becomes a wall between us and eternity, and prevents our perceiving it. We should make many more converts to virtue, could we prove that it would render mankind 38 THE ADVANTAGES OF PIETY. [Ser. LVII. happy here below, but we cannot cliange tlie order of things. Jesus Christ and his apostles have told us, that " in the world we shall have tribulation," and that " ail tliat will live godly in Christ Jesus, shall suffer persecution," John xvi. 33; 2 Tim. iii. 12. However, it is true, that even iiore piety procures pleasures, which usually surpass all those of worldly people: at least, which are sufficient to support us in a road leading to eternal hapi)iness. 1. Consider first, liow piety influences our health. Our bodies decay, 1 allow, by number- less means. Death enters them by the air we breathe, and by the elements that support them, and whatever contributes to make them live, contributes at the same time to make them die. Let us allow, my brethren, that most maladies take their rise in such excesses as tlie law of God condemns. How can a man, devoured with ambition, avarice and vengeance, a man whose passions keep him in perpetual agitations, depriving iiim of peace, and robbing him of sleep; how can he, who passes whole nights and days in gaming, animated with the desire of gaining his neighbour's money, tortured by turns with the hope of a fortune, and the fear of a bankruptcy; how can he, who drowns himself in wine, or overcharges himself with gluttony; how can he, who abandons iiimself without a curb to excessive lewdness, and who makes every thing serve his voluptuousness; how is it possible for people of these kinds to expect a firm and la.sting health.'' Godliness is a bar to all these disorders; " the fear of the Lord prolongetli days: it is a fountain of life to guard us from the snares of deatli," Prov. X. ill; and xii. 27. If then it be true that healtli is an invaluable treasure, if it be that, which ought to hold the first rank among the blessings of life, if without it all others are of no value, it is as certain that without love to the law of God we cannot enjoy much pleasure in life. The force of this reflection is certainly very little felt in the days of youth and vigour, for then we usually consider these as eternal ad- vantages, which nothing can alter: but when old age comes, when by continual languors, and by exquisite pains, men expiate the disor- ders of an irregular life, then that fear of God is respected, which tcacliesiis to prevent them. Ye n)artyrs of concupiscence, ye victims of voluptuousness, you, who formerly tasted the pleasures of sin, and are now tlioroughly feeling the horrors of it, and who, in consequence of your excesses, are already given up to an an- ticipated hell, do you serve us for demonstra- tion and example.' You are become knowing by experience, now teach our youth how bene- ficial it is to lead a regular life in their first years, and as your intemperance has oflended the church, let the pains you endure serve to restrain such as arc weak enough to imitate your bad exami)los. Those trembling hands, that shaking head, those disjointed knees, tiiat extinguished resolution, that feeble memory, that worn out brain, that body all infection and putrefaction, these are the dreadful rewards which the devil bestows on those on whom he is preparing himself shortly to exercise all his fury and rage. On this arti(-le, then, instead of saying with the profane, " what profit is it to keep the ordinances of God, and tu walk mournfully before the Lord of hosts.'" Mai. ii. 14. We ought to say with St. Paul, " What fruit liad ye then in those things whereof ye are now ashamed? For the end of those tilings is death," Rom. vi. 21. 2. (,'onsider next bow piety influences our réputation. I am aware, that worldly men by decrying piety, endeavour to avenge themselves for the want of courage to practise it. I am aware, too, that practise wickedness as much, as often, and as far as ever we can, we shall always find ourselves in a circle of companions like ourselves. But after all, it is however indisputable, that good people usually ac(iuire tlie respect of such as have not tlie laudable ambition of imitating them. I appeal only to your own conscience. Is it not true, that, even while you are gratifying your own lias- sions, you cannot help admiring such as subdue theirs? Is it not true, that, excejit on some occasions, in which you want, and therefore seek, accomplices in sin, you would rather choose to form connexions, to make bargains, and to deal with such as obey the laws of God, than with those who violate them? And amidst all the hatred and envy, which your irregula- rities excite against good people, is it not true, that your heart feels more veneration for wise, upright, and pious people, than fur others, who have opposite qualities? As these are your dis- positions towards others, know of a truth, they are also dispositions of others towards you. Here it is, that most men are objects of great pity. Tlie irregularities, which seem to conduct us to tlie end we propose, are often the very causes of our disappointment. IMay I not address one of you thus? You trample upon all laws human and divine; you build up a fortunate house with the substance of widows, and or- phans, and oppres.sed peojile, and you cement it with their blood; you sell your votes; you defraud the state; you deceive your friends; you betray your corres|ioii(lents, and after you have enriched yourself by such ways, you set forth in a most pompous manner your riches, your elegant furniture, your magnificent pa- laces, your superb ecjuipages, and you think the public take you fora person of great consi- deration, and that every one is erecting in his heart an altar to your fortune. No such thing. You deceive yourself Every one says in pri- vate, and some blunt people say to your face, you are a knave, you are a public blood-sucker, and all your magiiificonco displaj-s nothing but your crimes, ftlay I not say to another. You atiect to mount above your station by arrogant language, and migiily assuiiiption.s. You deck yourself with titles, and adorn yourself with names unknown to your ancestors. You put on a supcrcilous deportment, that ill assorts with the dust which covered you the other day, and you think by these means to efl'ace the re- iiiembrauco of your origin. No such thing. You deceive yourself. Every one takes plea- sure in showing you some of your former rags to mortify your pride, and they say to one an- other, he is a mean genius, he is a fool, he re- sembles distracted men, who having persuaded themselves that they are jirinces, kings, empe- rors, call their cottage a palace, their stick a sceptre, and their domestics courtiers. May I nut speak thus tu a third, You arc intoxicated Ser. Lvn.] THE ADVANTAGES OF PIETY. 39 with your own splendour, and fascinated with your own charms, you aspire at notliing less than to make all mankind your worshippers, offerinn^ incense to the idol you yourself adore; with this view you break tlirough the bounds of law, and the decency of your sex; your dress is vain and immodest, your conversation is loose, your deportment is indecent, and you think the world take you for a sort of rroddess. No such tliinjr. You deceive yourself. Peo- ple say you have put off Cliristian modesty, and laid aside eveu worldly decency, and as they jud^o of your private life by your public de]>ortment, how can they think otherwise? Fathers forbid their sons to keep your compa- ny, and mothers exhort their daughters to avoid your bad example. 3. Observe how godliness influences out for- tune, by procuring us the confidence of other men, and above all by acquiring the blessing of God on our designs and undertakings. — You are sometirpes astonished at the alarming changes that happen in society, you are sur- prised to see some families decay, and others fall into absolute ruin. You cannot compre- hend why some people, who held the other day the highest places in society, are now fal- len from that pinnacle of grandeur, and involv- ed in the deepest distress. Why this atonish- ment' There is a Providence, and though God often hides himself, though the ways of his providence are usually impenetrable, though it would be an unjust way of reasoning to say, such a person is wealthy, therefore he is holy, such a one is indigent, therefore he is wicked; yet the Lord sometimes comes out of that dark- ness in which he usually conceals himself, and raises a saint out of obscurity into a state of wealtii and honour. 4. Consider what an influence godliness has in our happiness by calming our passions, and by setting bounds to our desires. Our faculties are finite: but our desires are boundless. PVom this disproportion between our desires and our faculties a thousand conflicts arise, which dis- tress and destroy the soul. Observe the la- bour of an ambitious man, he is obliged to sacrifice to his prince his ease, his liberty, and his life; he must appear to applaud what he inwardly condemns; and he nuist adjust all his opinions and sentiments by the ideas of his master. See what toils worldly honour im- poses on its votaries; a man of honour must revenge an aflront after he has pardoned it, and to that he must expose his establishment and his fortune, he must run the risk of being obliged either to quit his country, or to suffer such punishment as the law inflicts on tliose, who take tiiat sword into their own hands, which God has put into the hand of the magis- trate, he must stab the person he loves, the person who loves him, and who oftended him juore through inadvertence than animosity; he must stille all the suggestions which conscience urges against a man who ventures his salvation on the precarious success of a duel, and who by so doing braves all the horrors of hell. Above all, what is the condition of a heart, with what cruel alternatives is it racked and torn, when it is occupied by two passions, which oppose and counteract each other. Take ambition and avarice for an example; for, my brethren, the heart of a man is sometimes the seat of two opposite tyrants, each of whom has views and interests different from the other. Avarice says keep, ambition says give, avarice says hold fast, ambition says give up. Avarice says retire, ambition says go abroad. Ambi- tion combats avarice, avarice combats ambi- tion, each by tunis distresses tlie heart, and if it groans under tyranny, wlietlier avarice or am- bition 1)0 the tyrant is indifferent. The plea- sure of seeing one passion reign is always poi- soned by the pain of seeing the other subdued. They resemble that woman, whose twin " chil- dren struggled together within her," and who said during tlie painful sensations. If il must 6c so, jy/iy was / a mother? Piety prevents these fatal effects, it makes ufl content with the condition in which Providence has placed us: it does more, it teaches us to be happy in any condition, how mean soever it may bo. " I have learned in whatsoever state I am, therewith to be content: I know both how to be abased, and I know how to abound. Every where and in all things I am instructed, ■ both to be full and to be hungry, both to abound and to suffer need," Phil. iv. 11, 12. 5. Consider the peace which piety diffuses in the conscience. The prosperity of those who desire to free themselves from conscience, is such as to make them miserable in the midst of their greatest success. What pleasure can a man enjoy, who cannot bear to be one mo- ment alone; a man, who needs perpetual dis- sipation to hide from himself his real condition; a man, who cannot reflect on the past without remorse, think on the present without confu- sion, or the future without despair; a man, who carries within himself that obstinate re- prover, on whom he cannot impose silence, a man, who already feels tlie " worm that dieth not" gnawing him; a man, who sees in the midst of his most jovial festivals the writing " of a man's hand," which he cannot read, but which his conscience most faithfully and terri- bly interprets; I ask what pleasure can such a man enjoy? Godliness not only frees us from these tor- ments, but it communicates joy into every part of the pious man's life. If the believer be in prosperity, he considers it as an effect of the goodness of God, the governor of this universe, and as a pledge of blessings reserved for him in another world. If he be in adversity, indeed he considers it as a chastisement coming from the hand of a wise and tender parent: and the same may be said of every other condition. 6. In fine, consider how piety influences the happiness of life, by the assurance it gives us of a safe, if not a comfortable death. There is not a single moment in life, in which it is not possible we should die; consequently there is not one instant, that may not be unhappy, if we be not in a condition to die well. While we are destitute of this assurance, we live in perpetual trouble and agitation; we see the sick, we meet funeral processions, we attend the dying, and all these different objects become motives of horror and pain. It is only when we are prepared to die well, that we bid de- fiance to winds and waves, fires and ship- wrecks, and that, by opposing to all these perilous casualties the hope of a happy death. 40 THE ADVANTAGES OF PIETY. [Ser. Lvn. we every where expenence the joy with which it inspires such as wait for it Collect all these articles, and unite all these advantages in one. I ask now, is it an impro- bable proposition, tliat virtue has a reward in itself, sufficient to indemnify us ibr all we suf- fer on account of it, so that though there were nothing to expect from tliis life, yet it would be a problem, whether it would not be better, all things considered, to practise godliness than to live in sin. But this is not the consequence we mean to draw from our principles. We do not intend to make this use of our observations. We will not dispute with the sinner whether he finds pleasure in the practice of sin, but as he as- sures us, that it gives him more pleasure to gratify his passions than to subdue them, we will neither deny the fact, nor find fault witii his taste, but allow that he must know better than any body what gives himself most plea- sure. We only derive this consequence from all we have been hearing, that the advantages which accompany godliness, are sufficient to support us in a course of action, that leads to eternal felicity. This eternal felicity the apostle had chiefly in view, and on this we would fix your atten- tion in the close of this discourse. " Godliness hath promise of the life that now is," is a pro- position, we think, plain and clear: but how- ever, it is disputable you say, subject to many exceptions, and liable to a great number of difficulties: but "godliness hath promise of the life that is to come," is a proposition which cannot be disputed, it is free from all difficulty, and can admit of no exception. Having taken up nearly all the time allotted to this exercise, I will finish with one reflection. " Promise of the life to come," annexed to god- liness, is not a mere promise, it puts even in this life the pious man in possession of one part of the benefits, the perfect possession of wliich he lives in hope of enjoying. Follow him in four periods — First in society — Next in the closet — Then in a participation of holy ordi- nances — And lastly, at the approach of death: you will find him participating the eternal feli- city, which is the object of iiis hope. In societij. What is the life of a man, who never goes into the company of his fellow crea- tures without doing them good; of a man who after the example of .Jesus Christ " goes about doing good;" a man, who every where sliows the light of a good example, who endeavours to win all hearts to God, who never ceases to publish his perfections, and to celebrate his praise, what, I ask, is the life of such a man.' It is an angelical life, it is a heavenly life, it is an anticipation of that life which happy spirits live in heaven, it is a foretaste and prelibation of tliose pleasures which are at the " right hand of God," and of that " fulness of joy," which is found in contemplating his majesty. Follow the pious man into tiie silent closet the human heart. There, ye earthly thoughts, ye worldly cares, ye troublesome birds of prey, that so often perplex us in life, there you have no access! There, revolving in his mind the divers objects presented to him in religion, he feels the various emotions that are proper to each. Sometimes the rich gifts of God in nature, and tlie insignificance of man the re- ceiver, are objects of his contemplation, and then he exclaims, "O Lord, my Lord, how excellent is thy name in all the earth! When I consider thy heavens, the work of thy fingers, the moon and the stars which thou hast ordain- ed," Ps. viii. 1. 3. I cannot help crying, " What is man tliat tliou art mindful of him! and the son of man that thou visitest him!" ver. 4. Sometimes the brightness of the divine perfec- tions siiining in Jesus Christ fixes his attention, and then he exclaims, " Tiiou art fairer than the children of men, grace is poured into thy lips, therefore God hath blessed thee for ever!" Ps. xlv. 2. Sometimes his mind contemplates that train of favours, with which God has en riched every believer in his church, and then he cries, " Many, O Lord my God, are thy won derful works which thou hast done, and thy thoughts which are to us-ward: they cannot be reckoned up in order before thee! Would 1 declare and speak of them, they are more than can be numbered!" Ps. xl. 6. Sometimes it is the sacrifice of the cross, and then he says, " Without controversy great is the mystery of godliness; God was manifest in the flesh!" 1 Tim. iii. 16. Sometimes it is the joy of possessing God, and then his language is, " My soul is satisfied as with marrow and fatness!" Ps. Ixiii. 5. Sometimes it is the desire of en- joying God in a greater measure, and in a richer abundance, and then he says with Asaph, " My supreme good is to draw near to God. When shall I come, O when shall I come and appear before God!" Ps. Ixxiii. 28, and xlii. 2. Follow this man in the participation of holy ordinances. Represent to yourselves a man, who after preparing himself some days, or some weeks for the holy communion, bringing tiiither a heart proportioned to the labour, which he has taken to dispose it proi)erly: ima- gine such a man silting at this table along with the ambitious, the impure, the revengeful, the vain, all the members of this community; sup- pose this man saying to himself, they are not only men who see and consider me, they are angels, wlio encamp around such as love God; it is Jesus Christ, who sits amidst his disciples assembled in his name; it is God himself who sees all, and examines all the dispositions I bring to his table. It is not only an invitation to this table given by ministers, it is " wisdom who hath furnished her table, mingled her wine," Prov. ix. 1, 2, and wiio cries, " Ho, every one that tiiirsteth, come ye to the waters," Isaiah Iv. It is my Saviour, who says to me, " Witii desire 1 have desired to eat with you," Luke xxii. 15. It is not only material bread There he recollects, concentres himself, and that I am receiving, it is a symbol of the body losRS himself in God. There, in tlie rich | and blood of Christ, it is his flesh and blood source of religion, he quenches tlie thirst of knowing, elevating, perpetuating, and extend- ing himsiilf, wliicii burns within him, and there lie feels how Cîod, the author of his nature, proportions hinisclf to tiic boundless capacity of mdcr tlie elements of bread and wine. It will bo not only a little tranquillity of conscience, which I shall receive at this table, if I enter into the spirit of the mystery set before me: but I shall have consolations on my death-bed. Ser. Lvn.] THE ADVANTAGES OF PIETY. 41 triumphs after death, and oceans of felicity and glory for ever. God has not preserved me till now merely to give me an opportunity of sit- ting here: but to open to mo the treasures of his patience and long-sutFcring; to enable me to repent of my former nogligonco of breaking the sabbath, profaning tlio communion, com- mitting iniquity, forgetting iny promises, and offending my Creator. I ask, my brethren, what is the man who ap- proaches the Lord's table with such dispositions? Is he a common man? Verily witii eyes of flesh, I see nothing to distinguish him from the crowd. I see this man confounded with all others, whom a lax discipline sutlers to partake of this ordinance, and to receive with unclean hands and a profane mouth, the most hol3' symbol of our religion; at most, 1 see only an agitation of his senses, a spark shining in his eye, a look cast towards heaven, emotions which the veil of humility that covers him cannot entirely conceal: but with the eyes of my mind I behold a man of a superior order, a man in paradise, a man nourished with plea- sure at the right hand of God, a man at whose conversion the angels of God rejoice, a man fastened to the triumphal car of Jesus Christ, and who makes the glory of the triumph, a man who has the happy art of making heaven descend into his soul; I behold amidst the mi- series and vanities of the world, a man already "justified," already "raised," already "glo- rified," already "sitting in heavenly places with Jesus Christ," Rom. viii. 30; Eph. ii. 6. I see a man ascending to heaven along with Jesus Christ, amids the shouting of the hea- venly choir, " Lift up your heads, O yc gates, and be ye lifted up, ye everlasting doors, and let the King of glory in," Ps. xxiv. 7. I see a man " with uncovered face beholding the glory of the Lord," and changing "from glory to glory by the Spirit of the Lord," 2 Cor. iii. 18. But it is particularly in a iltjing bed that tlie pious man enjoys foretastes of the life to come. A worldling is confounded at the approach of that dismal night, which hides futurity from him; or rather, despair seizes his soul at the rising of that dreadful light, which discovers to him a dispensation of punishment, in spite of his obstinate denial of it. Then he sees fire, flames, devils, "a lake of fire, the smoke of which ascendeth up for ever and ever." Then he shrinks back from the bitter cup, the dregs of which he must drink; he tries, though in vain, to put off' the end by his too late I)rayer, and lie cries at its approach " Moun- tains fall on rnc, hills cover me!" As for tlie l)eliever, he sees and desires nothing but that dispensation of ha[)j)iness, which he has already embraced by faith, possessed by hope, and tasted i)y the comforts of the Holy Spirit in his soul; and hence comes that active fervour, which makes his countenance luminous like that of departing Stc|)lien. 1 cannot better express such sentiments tlian in the words of the primitive saints, who so happily experi- enced them. '" 1 have waited for thy salvation, O Lord! I know that my Redeemer liveth, and tliough after my skin worms destroy this body, yet in my flesh shall I see God; whom I shall see for myself, and mine eyes shall behold and not an- other. Though thou slayest me, yet will I trust in thee, O God! Though I walk through the valley of tlie shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for tliou art with me, thy rod and thy staff they comfort me. I know whom I have believed, and I am persuaded, that he is able to keep that which 1 have committed unto liiin against that day. Neither count I my life dear so that I might finisli my course with joy, and the ministry wliicli I have received of the Lord. I desire to depart and be with Christ, which is far bettor. Lord Jesus receive my spiiit. I have fought a good fight, I have finished my course, I have kept tlie faith, henceforth there is laid up for me a crown of righteousness. O death, where is thy sting? O grave, where is thy victory? In these things we are more than conquerors, through him that loved us. As the halt pantcth after the water-brooks, so panteth my soul after thee, O God! my soul thirsteth for God, for the living God! When shall I come and appear before God? IIow amiable are thy tabernacles, O Lord of hosts! My soul longeth, yea, even faintelh for tho courts of the Lord; my heart and my flesh cry out for the living God. Blessed are they that dwell in thy house, they will be still praising thee! Thine altars, even thine altars, O Lord of hosts, my King and my God." May you all, my brethren, may every one of you, know these truths by experience. God grant you the grace. To him be honour and glory for ever. Vol. ii— 6 42 THE REPENTANCE OF ISbr. Lvm. SERMON LVIII. THE REPENTANCE OF THE CHASTE WOMAN. UN- Luke vii. 36—50. ^nd one of the Pharisees desired him Ihat he toould eat with him. ^Ind he went into the l'harisee''s lioiuse, and sat dntcn to mrat. And behold, a woman in the fit;/, which was a sinner, when she knew that. Jesus sal at meat in the P/iamee's house, brought an uUtha.sler box of ointment, and stood at his fret bthind him wcijiing, and began to wash hisftcl with tears, and did wipe them with the hairs of her head, and kissed his feet, and anointed them ivilh the ointment. J^ow xchcn the Pharisee which had bidden him, saw it, he spake tvilhin himself, saying, this man, if he ivcre a prophet, would have known who, and what manner of woman this is that toucheth him: for she is a sinner. And Jesus answering, said unto him, iSiiiioH, / have sonw- irhat to sail iinto thee. And he saith, Ma-iter, say on. There tints a certain creditor, %vhich had two debtors: the one owed five hundred pence, and the other fifty. And ichen they had nothing to pay, he frankly forgave them both. Tell me therefore, ichich of them vyill love him inost? iiimon answered and said, J suppose that he to whom he forgave most. And he said unto him, thou hast righlly judged. And ht turned to the woman, and said imlo tiimon, Siest thov. this woman? I entered into thine hnxise, thou gavest me no water for my feet: but site hath washed my feet with tears, and wiped them with the hairs of her head. Thou gavest me no kiss; but this v:oman, since the tinte I caine in, hath not ceased to kiss my feet. ..Inline head with oil thou didst nut amnnl: but this woman hath anointed my feet ivith ointment. If heref ore I say unto thee, her sins ichich are many, are forgiven; for .the lovclh «luc/i; but to whom little is forgiven, the same lovelh little. ^'Ind lie said unto her, thy sins are forgiven. And they that sal at meal with him, began lo say within themselves, who is this thai furgivelh sins also? And he said to the xooman, Thy faith hath saved thee; go in peace. " Let ni(! fail into ttic hands of the Lord, for his mercies are great: but let me not fall into the hand of man," 'i Sam. xx'w. 14. This was the rccpicst tliat David made in the most unhappy moment of his life. A i>ropliet sent by an aveiiçiu",' (!f)d came to biiiig lum a choice of afflictions, " I olTer thee three thiiiirs, choose one of them, that 1 may do it unto thee. — Shall three years of famine come unto thee in thy land? or will lliou lice three months before thine enemies, wiiile they |)ursue thee? or that lliere In; lliree days jicslilenco in thy land? Now advise, and see what answer 1 shall return to him tliat sent me," ver. 12, &c. What a proposal was this to a man accus- tomed to consider Heaven as a source of bene- dictions and favours! Henceforth he was to consider it only as a cavern of thpiidcr and lightninir, tlusiiiriir and rolling, and ready to strike him dead! which of these punishments would ho choose? ^Vhich of them could ho choose without reproaching himself in future that he had chosen the worst' Which would you have chosen had you been in his place, my brethren? Would you have determined for war? Could you have borne the bare idea of it' Could you have endured to see the once victorious armies of Israel led in triumpli by an enemy, the ark of the Lord a captive, a cruel and bar- barous soldiery reducing a kingdom to ashes, rasing fortresses, ravaging a harvest, and de- stroying in a moment the crop of a whole year? Would you have determined for famine? Would you have chosen to have the heaven become as iron, and tlie earth brass, the seed dying in the earth, or the corn burning before it was ripe? " The locust eating what the ]ialmer worm had left, and the canker worm eating what the lo- cust had left," Joel i. 1; men snatching bread from one another's hands, struggling between life and death, and starving till Ibod would af- ford no nourishment? Would you have chosen mortality? Could you have reconciled your- selves to the terrible times in which conUigion on the wings of the wind carries its deadly j>oi- son with the rai)idity of lightning from city to city, from house to houses; a time in which social living is at an end, when each is wholly ein- l)loyed in guarding himself from danger, and lias no op|)ortunity to take care of others^ svhen the father tlees Irom tlie siglit of tlie son, tlie son from lliatoftiie fatlier, the wife avoids the husband, the husband the wifcj when each dreads the siglit of the person he most esteem», and receives, and cominunicates poisonous and deadly infection? These are the dreadful pu- nisliments out of wliich God required guilty Uavid to choose one. These he was to weigh in a balance, while he agitated the mournful question, which of the three shall 1 choose for my lot' However, he determines, " j^ct me fall into the hands of the Lord, for his mercies ar« great: but let me not fall into the hand of man." He thought, that immediato strokes from the hand of a God, mertiful tliougli dis])leased, would be most tolerable. He could conceive nothing more terrible than to see between God and himself, men who would intercept his looks, and would prevent his access to the throne of grace. INIy brethren, the wish of David under his consternation may direct ours in regard to all the spots that have deliled our lives. True, the eyes of God are inlinitely more pure than those of men. He indeed tliscovers frailties in our lives which iiave esca(»ed our notice, and "if our heart condemns us, God is greater than our heart." It is true, lie hath punisiiuieiits to in- flict on us infinitely more dteadful than any mankind can invent, and if men can "kill the body, God is able to destroy both soul and body in hell." However, tliis .\lmighty God, this terrible, tiiis avenging God, is a merciful God, "great arc his teiidiir mercies;" but men, men arc cruel; yea, the very men wlm allow liicm- selves to live in the most shameful licentious- ness, men who have the most need of the pa- tience of others, men who themselves deserve the most rigorous i)unishnieuls, these very men are usually void ol' all pity liir their fellows, liehold a striking example. Tlie unchaste wo- man in the te.vt e.\[)ericn(ed both, and by turns made trial of the judguienl of God, and the judgment of men. But she met with a vexy Ser. LVIII.] THE UNCHASTE WOMAN. 43 different treatment. In Jesus C'lirist she found a very severe legislator, who left lier îi while Id shed tears, and very hitter tears; a legislator, who left h(!r awhile to her own grief, and sat and saw her hair dishevelled, and her features distorted; hut who soon took care to dry up her t/;ars, and to address this conifortahle language toiler, " tio in peace." (Ju the contrary, in the hands of men she found nothing hut hnr- harity and cruelty. She heard a sii|)ercihous Pharisee endeavour to arm against her the ile- deenier of mankind, try U) persuade him to denounce on lier sentence of death, even while she was repenting of lier sin, and to do his ut- most to caiis(! condemnation to tlow from the very tountain of grace and mer('y. It is this inslrucXive, thiseomfortalilc history, that we set liefore you t(j-|)hets derived tlie super- natural knowledge of tlie greatest mysteries of revelation, of ])rodicling events tlie least likely to come to jiass, of seeing into the most distant and im|)enotrablt! luturity; it is because of this, that he is capable of forming a just notion of the character of a sinner, and the nature of a sin. Yes, none but God can form such a faming them: but there is a disposition far | judgment. " Who art thou, that judgest aiio- more censurable still, and that is to be always ready to form a rigorous judgment, on tiic least appearances of inq)ropriely, and without taking pains to iiupiiro, whether tiiere be no circumstances that diminish the guilt of an ac- tion apparently wrong, nothing that renders it deserving of patience or jiity. It does not be- long to us to set ourselves up for judges of the actions of our brethren, to become inquisitors * Ficchier, panégyrique de la MagdelciDc. therr" Jlom. xiv. '1. Such a judgment de- jiends on so many didicult combinations, that none but an infinite intelligence is cajiable of making it with exactness. Ill order to judge properly of a crime, and a criminal, we must examine tiie power of the tcin|>latioiis to which he was ex|>oscd, the op- portunities given him to avoid it, the force of ins natural constitution, the motives that ani- mated him, the resistance he made, the vir- tues he practised, the talents God gave him, Ser. LVIII.] THE UNCHASTE WOMAN. 47 the education he had, what knowledge ho had acquired, what conflicts he endured, what re- morse he has felt. An exact roinpiirison ought to be made of his sins witii liis virtue», in or- der to determine whether sin prevails over virtue, or wliether virtue prevails over sin, and on this confronting of evidence a proper idea of tiic sinner in question must be formed. It must be examined whether he were seduced by ignorance, or whether he were allured by example, or wliether he yielded tiirough weak- ness, whether dissipation or obstinacy, malice, or contempt of God and his law, confirmed him in sin. On the examination of all these articles depends the truth of the judgment, which we form of a fellow creature. There needs nothing but one circumstance, nothing but one degree of more or less in a moral ac- tion to change the nature of it, to render it pardonable or irrémissible, deserving compas- sion or horror. Now who is he, who is the man, that is equal to this combination? Ac- cordingly, nothing more directly violates the laws of benevolence and justice than some de- cisive opinions, which we thiidv jiroiJcr to give on the characters of our neighbours. It is in- deed the ortice of judges to punisii such crimes as disturb the peace of society; and each in- dividual may say to his brethren, this is the path of virtue, that is the road of vice. We have authority indeed to inform them that " the unrighteous," that is " adulterers, idola- ters, and fornicators shall not inherit the king- dom of God," 1 Cor. vi. 9, 10. Indeed we ought to apjirise them of danger, and to make them tremble at the sight of the bottomless pit, towards which they are advancing at a great pace: but to make such a combination as we have described, and to pronounce such and such people reprobates is rashness, it is to assume all the authority of the sovereign judge. There is in the opinion of the Pharisee a selfish pille. What is it then that makes this woma:i deserve his indignation? At what tri- bunal will she be found more odious than other sinners who insolently lift their heads both in the world and tlie church? It is at tiie tribu- nal of pride. Thou superb Pharisee! Open thine eyes, see, look, examine, there is within the walls, where thy feast is prepared, there is even at thy table a much greater sinner, tlian this woman, and that siimer is thyself! The sin, of which thou art guilty, and which is more abominable than unchastily, more abo- minable than adultery, more abominable than prostitution itself, is pride, and above all Piia- risaical pride. The sin of pride is always hateful in the eyes of God, whether it be pride of honour, pride of fortune, or pride of power; but pride arising from an opinion of our own righteousness, is a direct crime against the di- vine Majesty. On what principles, good God! is such a pride founded! What insolence has he, who is animated with it when he presents himself before God? He appears without fear or dread before that terrible throne, in the presence of which seraphim cover their faces, and the heavens themselves are unclean. He ventures to say to himself, I have done all my duty. I have had as much respect for Al- mighty God as he deserves. I have had as nmch zeal and ardour in prayer as the exercise reipiires. 1 have so restrained my tongue as to have no word, so directed my mind as to liave no thougiit, so kept my heart as to have no criminal emotion to reproach myself with; or if I have luul at any time any frailty, I have so fully made amends for it by my virtue, that 1 have sulliciently satisfied all the just demands of Ciod. I ask no favour, 1 want n(;thing but justice. Let the Judge of the world call me before him. Let devouring fire, and eternal liâmes glitter in my presence. Let the tribu- nal of retribution be prepared before me. My arm shall save me, and a recollection of my own righteousness shall support me in be- holding all tlu!se objects. You sutliciently perceive, my brethren, what makes this dispo- sition so hateful, and we need. not enlarge on the subject. Humility is the supplement of the virtues of the greatest saints. What ap- plication soever we have made to our duty, we liave always fallen short of our obligations. We owe so nmch homage to God as to ac- knod is good. Tliere is no star in the firmament, no wave of the ocean, no production of the earth, no plant in our gardens, no period in our duration, no gifts of his favour, I had almost said no strokes of his anger, which do not contribute to prove this proposition, God is good.- Jin idea of Ike mercy of God is not particu- lar to some places, to any age, nation, religion, or sect. Although the empire of truth does not depend on the number of those that submit to it, there is always some ground to suspect we are deceived, when we are singular in our opinions, and the whole world contradict us: but here the sentiments of all mankind to a certain point agree with ours. All have ac- knowledged themselves guilty, and all have professed to worship a merciful God. Though 48, THE REPENTANCE OF [Ser. Lvm. mankind have entertained different sentiments on the nature of true repentance, yet all have acknowledged the prerogatives of it. The idea of the mercy of God is not founded merely on human speculations, subject to er- ror: but it is founded on clear revelation; and revelation preaciies this mercy far more em- phatically than reason. These decisions arc not such as are expres.sed in a vague and ob- scure manner, so as to leave room for doubt and uncertainty, but they are clear, intelligi- ble, and reiterated. The decisions of revelation concerning the mercy of God do not leave us to consider it as a doctrine incongruous with the whole of reli- gion, or unconnected with any particular doc- trine taught as a part of it: but they establish it as a capital doctrine, and on which the whole system of relicion turns. What is our reli- gioa' It is a dispensation of mercy. It is a supplement to human frailty. It is a refuge for penitent sinners from the pursuits of divine justice. It is a covenant, in which we engage to give ourselves wholly up to the laws of God, and God condescends to accept our imperfect services, and to pardon oursins, how enormous soever they have been, on our genuine repent- ance. The promises of mercy made to us in religion are not restrained to sinners of a par- ticular order, nor to sin of a particular kind; but they regard all sinners and all sins of every possible kind. There is no crime so odious, no circumstance so aggravating, no life so obsti- nately spent in sin, as not to be pitiable and pardonable, when the sinner affectionately and sincerely returns to God. If perseverance in evil, if the sin against tlie Holy Ghost exclude people from mercy, it is because they render repentance impracticable, not because they render it ineffectual. The doctiine of divine mercy is not founded on promises to be accomplished at some re- mote and distant period; but experience has jitstifud tiicse promises. Witness the people of Israel, witness Moses, David, Ahab, Heze- kiah, witness Manasseh, Nineveh, Nebuchad- nezzar. What has not repentance done.' By repentance the people of Israel suspended the judgments of God, when they were ready to fall on them and crush them. By repentance Moses " stood in the breach, and turned away the wrath of God." By repentance David re- covered the joy of his salvation, after he had committed tlie crimes of murder and adultery. By repentance even Ahab obtained a reprieve. By repentance Ilezekiah enlarged the term of his life fifteen years. By repentance Ma- nasseh saved himself and his people. By re- pentance Nineveh obtained a revocation of the decree tiiat a prophet had denounced against it. By repentance Nebuchadnezzar recovered his understanding and his excellent majesty. It would be ea.sy to enlarge tiiis list. So many reflections, so many arguments against the cruel pretence of the Pharisee. III. You liave seen in our first part the re- pentance of the immodest woman. In the se- cond you have seen the judgment of tlie Phari- see. Now it remains to consider the judgment of Jesus Christ concerning tliem i>otli. " There was a certain creditor, which hiui two debtors: the one owed five hundred pence, and the other fifty. And when they had nothing to pay, he frankly forgave them both. Tell me therefore, wliich of them will love him mosL' Simon answered and said, I suppose tliat he to whom he forgave most. And lie said unto him, thou hast riglitly judged. And he turned to the woman, and said unto Simon, Seest thou this woman? I entered into thine house, thou gavest me no water for my feet: but she hath washed my feet with tears, and wiped them with the hairs of her head. Tliou gavest me no kiss: but this woman, since the time I came in, hath not cea.sedto kiss my feet. Mine head with oil thou didst not anoint: but tiiis woman hath anointed my feet with ointment. Where- fore I say unto thee, her sins which arc many are forgiven: for slie loved niucii: but to whom little is given, the same loveth little." Tliis is our third part. These words have occasioned a famous ques- tion. It has been asked whether the pardon granted by Jesus Christ to this woman were an effect of her love to Jesus Christ: or whether her love to Jesus Christ were an effect of the pardon she had received from him. The ex- pressions, and the emblems made use of in the text, seem to countenance both these opinions. The parable proposed by our Saviour favour» the latter opinion, that is, that the woman's love to Jesus Christ was an effect of the par- don that slie had received. " A certain creditor had two debtors, when they had nothing to pay, he frankly forgave the one five hundred pence, and the otlier fifty. Which of tiiem will love him most.'" The answer is, " He, I suppose, to whom he forgave most." Who does not see, that the love of this debtor is an effect of the acquittance from the debt' And as this acquittance here represents tlie pardon of sin, who does not see that the love of this woman, and of all others in her condition, is liere stated as the effect of this pardon? But the apjilica- tion whicii Jesus Christ makes of this parable, seems to favour the opposite opinion, that is, that the love here spoken of was the cause and not tiie effect of pardon. " Seest thou this wo- man?" said Jesus Christ to Simon, " I entered into thine house, thou gavest me no water for my feet: but she hath washed my feet with tears, and wiped them with the hairs of her head. Thou gavest me no kiss; but this wo- man, since tiio time I came in, liatii not ceased to kiss my feet. Mine head with oil thou didst not anoint: but this woman hath anointed my feet with ointment. Wherefore I say unto thee, her sins which are many are forgiven; for she loved much." Does it not seem, that the application of this parable proposes the par- don of the sins of tiiis penitent, as being both the cause and the effect of her love? This question certainly deserves elucidation, because it regards words proceeding from tiio mouth of Jesus Ciirist himself, and on that ac- count worthy of being studied with the utmost care: but is the question as important as some have pretended? You may fuid some interpre- ters ready to excommunicate one another on account of this question, and to accuse their antagonists of subverting all the foundations of true religion. There have been times (and may such times never return) I say, there were times, in which people thought they distin- SïR. LVIIl.] THE UNCHASTE WOMAN. 49 guished their zeal by taking as much pains to envenom controversies, as they oujrht to have tai^en to concihatc them; and wiien tiiey ouijht to serve true rehgion by aj^gravating the errors of opposite rchgions. On these principles, such as took the words of the text in the first sense taxed the other side with subverting the whole doctrine of free justification; for, said they, if the pardon here granted to the sinner be an effect of her love to Jesus Christ, what become of all the passages of Scripture, wliicli say, that grace, and grace alone, obtains the remission of sin? They of the opposite senti- ment accused the others with subverting ail the grounds of morality; for, said they, if tliis woman's love to Jesus C'iirist be only an effect of pardon, it clearly follows, that she had been pardoned before she exercised love: but if this be the case, what become of all the passages of the gospel, which make loving God a part of the essence of that faith witliout which there is no forgiveness? Do you not see, my breth- ren, in this way of disputing, that unhappy spirit of party, which defends the truth with the arms of falsehood; the spirit that has caused so many ravages in the church, and which is one of the strongest objections that the enemy of mankind can oppose against a reunion of religious sentiments, so much desired by all good men? What then, may it not be affirmed in a very sound sense, that we love God before we obtain the pardon of our sins? Have we not declaimed against the doctrine of such divines as have advanced that attrition alone, that is to say, a fear of hell without any degree of love to God was sufficient to open the gates of heaven to a penitent? Recourse to the Saviour of the world, such a recourse as makes the essence of faith, ought it to have no other motive than that of desiring to enjoy the benefits of his sacrifice? Should it not be ani- mated with love to his perfections? But on the othei* hand, may it not also be said, in a sense most pure, and most evangelically accurate, that true love to God is an effect of the pardon we obtain of him? This love is never more ardent, than when it is kindled at the flame of that which is testified in our absolution. Is our zeal for the service of God ever more fer- vent than when it is produced by a felt recon- ciliation to him? Are the praises we sing to his glory ever more pure, than when they rise out of such motives as animate glorified saints, when we can say with them, " unto him tliat loved us, and washed us from our sins in his own blood, be glory, and dominioa'" Rev. i. 5. Do different views of this text deserve so much wormwood and gall? But what is the opinion of the Saviour of the world, and what would he answer to the question proposed? Was the pardon granted to the sirmer the cause of her love, or the effect of it? Which of the two ideas ought to pre- vail in our minds, that in the parable, or that in the ai)plication of iL' The opinion most gonenilly received in our churches is, that tlie love of this woman ought to be considered as the effect of her pardon, and this appears to us the most likely, and supported by llie best evi- dence: for the reason on which this opinion is grounded, seems to us unanswerable. There is neither a critical remark, nor a change of Vol.. II.— 7 version, that can elude the force and evidence of it: " a creditor had two debtors, he forgave the one five hundred pence, and the other fifty, the first will love him most." Undoubtedly this love is the effect, and not the cause of the acipiitlance of the debt. On the contrary, the reason on which the second o[)inion is founded may be easily answered. It is grounded on: this expression, " Mer sins are forgiven, for she lr)vcd much." The original reading is capable of another sense. Instead of translating "for she loved much," the words may be rendered without any violence to the Greek text, "her sins arc forgiven, and because of that," or " on a(;count of that she loved much." There are many examples of the original term being taken in this sense. We omit quotations and proofs only to avoid prolixity. We must then suppose, that the tears now shed by this woman were not the first, which she had shed at the remembrance of her sins. She had already perfornied several penitential exerci.scs under a sense of forgiveness, and the repetition of these exercises proceeded both from a sense of gratitude for the sentence pro- nounced in her favour, and from a desire of receiving a ratification of it. On this account we have not assigned the fear of punisimient as a cause of the grief of this penitent, as we ought to have done liad we supposed that she had not already obtained forgiveness. Our supposition su[)ported by our comment on the words of the text, in my opinion, throw great light on the whole passage. The Pharisee is offended because Jesus Christ sutfered a wo- man of bad character to give him so many tokens of her esteem. Jesus Christ makes at the same time an apology both for himself and for the penitent, lie tells the Pharisee, that the great esteem of this woman proceeds from a sense of the great favours, which she had received from him: that the Pharisee thought he had given sufficient proof of his regard for Jesus Clirist by receiving him into his house, without any extraordinary demon- strations of zeal, witliout giving him " water to wash his feet, oil to anoint his head," or "a kiss" in token of friendship; and that what prevented him from giving greater marks of esteem was his considering himself in tlie con- dition of the first debtor, of whom only a little gratitude was required, because he had been released from an obligation to ])ay only a small and inconsiderable sum: but that this woman considered herself in the condition of the other debtor, who had been forgiven " five hundred pence;" and that therefore she thought herself obliged to give her creditor the highest marks of esteem. " Seest thou this woman? I entered into thine house, thou gavest me no water for my feet: but she hath washed my feet with tears, and wiped tliciii with tiic hairs of her head. Thon gavest me no kiss: but she hath not ceased to kiss my feet. My head with oil thou didst not anoint: but she hath anointed my feet with ointment. Wherefore I say unto thee, her sins, which are many, are forgiven." On this account she hath loved much; and has giviMi me all these proofs of affection which arc so far superior to tliose, which I have re- ceived at your table, " for he, to whom little ia forgiven, loveth little." 50 THE REPENTANCE OF [Ser. LVIII. At len^h, Jesus Christ turns himself towards the penitent, and, affected at her weeping afresh, repeats his assurances of forgiveness, and appeases that sorrow, which the remem- brance of her crimes excited in lier heart, though she no longer dreaded punishment. " Go," says he, " thy sins arc forgiven tliee. . . Go in peace." Ye rigid casuists, who render the path of life strait, and difficult, ye, whose terrifying maxims are planted like briars and thorns in the road of paradise; ye messengers of terror and vengeance, like the dreadful angels who with flaming swords kept guilty men from at- tcm|iting to return to the garden of Eden; ye who deiii>uiice only hell and danuiation; come hither and receive instruction. Come and learii how to preach, and how to write, and how to speak in your pulpits to your audi- tors, and how to comfort on a dying bed a man, whose soul hovers on his lips, and is just departing. See the Saviour of tlie world; be- hold with what ease and indulgence he receives this penitent. Scarcely had she begun to weep, scarcely had she touched the feet of Jesus Christ with a little ointment, but he crowned her repentance, became her apologist, pardoned during one moment of repentance the excesses of a whole life, and condescended to acknow- ledge for a member of " a glorious church, not having spot or wrinkle, or any such thing," this woman, and what kind of a woman.' A woman guilty perhaps of jirostitution, perhaps of adultery, certainly of impurity and fornica- tion. Aller this do you violently declaim against conversion, under pretence that it is not effected precisely at such lime as you think fit to appoint.' Do you yet refuse to publish pardon and forgiveness to that sinner, who in- deed has spent his whole life in sin, but who a few moments before he expires puts on all the appearance of true rc])entance, covers himself with sorrow, and dissolves himself in tears, like tlio penitent in the text, and a.ssures you that he embraces with the utmost fervour the feet of the Redeemer of mankind.' Do 1 deceive myself, my brethren.' I think I see the audience quicken their attention. This last reflection seems to suit the taste of most of my hearers. I think, I perceive some roacliing the right iiand of fellowship to me, and congratulating me for publicly adjuring this day of gloomy and melancholy morality, more likely to drive sinners to despair than to reclaim tlicm. How, my brethren, have we preached to you so many years, and you aft.er all so little acquainted witli us as to imagine that we have ]»ropo.sed this reflection with any other design than tliat of showing you the folly of it,' Or rather are you so little acquainted with your religion, with the spirit of the gospel in gene- ral, and with that of my text in particular, as to derive consequences diametrically opposite to the design of the inspired writers.' And where, pray, are these barbarous men.' Where are these messengers of vengeance and terror.' Where arc the casuists, whose maxims render the road to eloriial life inaccessible. Who are tlie men, who tiiiis excite yiir anger and in- dignation? What! Is it the man, who has si)cnt fifty ur sixty years in exaiaining the human heart; the man, who assures you, that, after a thousand diligent and accurate investigations, he finds impenetrable depths of deception in the heart; the man, who, from the difl'icully of his own examinations derives arguments to engage you not to be satisfied with a superficial know- ledge of your conscience, but to carry the light of the gospel into the darkest recessses of your heart; the man, who advises you over and over again, that if you content yourselves with a slight knowledge of yourselves, you must be subjei^t to ten thousand illusions, that you will take the semblance of repent;ince for repentance itself, that you will think yourselves "rich and increased with goods," while you are " wretched, and miserable, and poor, and blind, and naked," Rev. iii. 1". Is this the rigid casuist, who offends and irritates you? Perhajts, it is the man, who tells you that, in order to assure yourselves that you are in a state of grace, you must love God with an es- teem of preference, which will engage you to obey him before all his creatures; the man, who, judging by innumerable evidences that you prefer " serving the creature more than the Creator," Rom. i. 25; concludes from this sad phenomenon that you have reason to tremble: the man, who advises you to spend at least one week in recollection and retirement before you partake of the Lord's Supper; the man, who would have you purify your hands from the blood of your brethren, and your heart burning with hatred and vengeance, and on that account jdaced in a catalogue of wiwr- dercrs'' hearts, according to the spirit of the gospel: the man, who forbids yon to come to the Lord's Supper while your wicked courses are only suspended instead of being reformed, and while your cruel exactions are only delay- ed instead of being entirely left ofl'? Perhaps tliis is the man! Is tiiis the rigid casuist, who' offends and irritates you? Or, probably, it is the man, who has attend- ed you three, four, or half a dozen times in fits of sickness, who then saw you covered with tears, every time acknowledging your sins, and always calling heaven and earth to witness your sincere intention to reform, and to change your conduct, but who has always seen you immediately on your recovery return to your former course of life, as if you had never shed a tear, never put up a prayer, never made a resolution, never appealed to heaven to attest your sincerity: the man, who concludes from such sad events as these that the resolutions of sick and dying people ought always to be con- sidered as extremely suspicious; tiie man, who tells you that during all his long and constant attendance on tiie sick he has seldom seen one converted on a sick-bed, (for our parts, my brethren, we are mournful guarantees of this awful fact,) the man alarmed at tiiese frightful examples, and slow to publish tlie grace of ( Jod to dying people of a certain class; I say, pro- bably, this is the man, whooflends you! Is not this the cruel casuist, who provokes you? What! Is it the man, who sees the sentence of death written in your face, and your house of clay just going to sink, to whom you appear more like a skeleton than a living body, and who fears every morning lest some messenger should inform him that you was found dead in See. LVIII.] THE UNCHASTE WOMAN. 51 your bed, who feare all this from your own complaints? What am I sayinose against the exe- cution of this law? Noise, company, diver- sions, refinements of lasciviousness. In these he intrenches himself, and defies us to force him thence. While the catechumen is studi- ously employing himself to clear away the dif- ficulties, and to determine the important ques- tions, on vvliich all his future hopes dependj while the believer is striving against the stream, and endeavouring to subdue his own pas- sions; while the penitent feels and bows un- der the weighty remembrance of his sins; while the martyr falls a victim to the rige of his persecutors; the voluptuary feels a joy, which he thinks unalterable, and creates a kind of fool's paradise, in which he pretends to brave God, and to be happy in spite of him, whose sovereign command condemns him to misery. Absurd tranquillity! Senseless secu- rity! I appeal to reason, I appeal to old age, I appeal to death, I appeal to judgment. What a system is that of the voluptuary, when it is examined at the bar of reason.' There he is taught, that he owes his existence to a Supreme Being, and that he is under infinite obligations to him; there he is made to feel that he had no assurance of living four days, that within fifteen, twenty, or thirty years, he will be taken out of this world, and that at the end of this term there will be before him noth- ing but death, eternity, and hell. He knows nothing against this, he agrees to all this, he inwardly feels demonstrations of all this: but instead of trying to avoid the evil day, he tries to forget it: and, as if the existence of beings depended on the attention we paid to them, he imagines he has annihilated these dreadful objects, bccaiLse he has found the art of obli- terating them from his memory. What a system is that of the voluptuary, when it is examined at the tribunal of cnn- science! For, in fact, whatever eflbrts may be employed to drown the voice of conscience, it sometimes roars, and will be heard. Even a depraved conscience has a kind of periodical power, it cannot be always intoxicated with worldly pleasure. Bclshazzar, on a certain fes- Se THE VANITY OF ATTEMPTING [Ser. LIX. tival day, was sitting at table with liis court. In order to insult the God of Israel, lie ordered the sacred vessels, which his father had brought away from tlie temple of Jerusalem, to be brought into company, that he and his " prin- ces, his wives and his concubines, might drink therein, and praise the gods of gold and of sil- ver, of brass, of iron, of wood, and of stone." All on a sudden "his countenance changes, and his thoughts trouble him; so that the joints of his loins are loosed, and his knees sn)ite one against another," Dan. v. 2. 4. 6; thus proving the truth of wliat the Wise Man observes, that " the wicked flee when no man pursueth," Prov. xxviii. 1. Unhappy king! What is the occasion of all this terror and fear? Dost thou see a sword hanging over thee by a single thread, and ready to fall on thee, and cut thee asunder.' Have thine enemies, who are besienring the capital, found a way into it' Does the eartl) reel under thy feet' Is hell opening to thine eyes.' Do the infernal furies surround thee, and cause the serpents on their heads to hiss in thine ears.' No: but a " hand is writing over ao-ainst the candlestick upon the plaster of the wall," ver. 5. And what have you to fear from that hand.' You are not acquainted with the characters. Perhaps tlie writing is an encomium on thee. Perhaps it is an oracle, foretelling thee some new acquisition of splen- dour and glory. Why, of two senses, of which the writing is capable, dost thou ima- gine the worst' My brethren, behold the so- lution of tliis difficulty. These fingers nf a ?>ian's hand are not alone; the finger of God accompanies them. The subject is not only written on the wall of the royal palace; but it is also inscribed on the heart of the king. His eyes could not read the characters, but his con- science knew how to e.xjilain them. Ah! mi- serable hypocrite! cease calling for astrologers; leave oft" consulting magicians and Chaldeans. Listen to your own heart. The expositor is within thee, and thy conscience will tell thee more than all the wise men in thy kingdom. What a system is that of a voluptuary con- sidered in the decline of life! A volii])tuous man, when his organs are become feeble, and his faculties worn out, finds he has outlived his felicity, yet he looks after tlie gods, of which time has despoiled him, and in vain ex- pects that voluptuousness can rid him of the painful reflections which torment and excru- ciate him. What a system is that of a vervading jiain, from pleasure to eternal fire, from excessive lasciviousness to chains of darkness, from the com])any of those who ministered to his volui)tousness, to that of the executioners of divine vengeance. IV. In fine, a stoical olistinacy is the fourth obstacle, wliicli some place against the pur- ]ioses of Cîod. Would you see this hardiness U'i)re8enteare him either to the citadel or the capital, where the marks of enemies attempt- ing to render themselves masters of them are yet to be seen. Arrows shot at the sun never reach him. Sacrileges committed in the tem- ples of the Deity, by breaking in pieces the symbols, and by subverting the edifices, never aftect him. What am I saying? the gods them- selves may be buried in the ruins of their own temples; but the wise man never can; or, could ho be overwhelmed, he could suft'er no damage. Jupiter hath nothing more than the wise man, except his immortality. But the wise man, in his turn, hath this superiority, that he is perfectly happy during the short space of this life. In this he is as much great- er than Jupiter, as it is more glorious to com- press all happiness into a narrow space than to ditfuse it through one more considerable, and to possess as much felicity in one single instant, as the greatest of the gods enjoys iii eternity." Who would believe, my brethren, that men, who were formerly the admiration of the world, had been able to oppose such crude and fanciful ideas against all the evidences of their depravity and dependence? Who could conceive, that they seriously set these against sickness, poverty, pain, conscience, death, the grave, the punisimient of hell, and the majesty of God? Are there any of this extraordinary sect yet subsisting? Hath Zeno any disciples now.? Are there any who 3'et follow and revere the doctrine of the portico? Yes, my brethren, there are yet peo|)le, who, under another name, maintain the same sentiments. 1 know not wlience the evil comes, whether from the air we breathe in these provinces, or from our diet, or from any other cause. I cannot tell whether dulness of fancy produce in U3 what excessive vivacity produces in other countries, but it should seem, we have as many of this sort among us as there are in oilier places. We have people who aftect an unshaken firm- ness, who glory in preserving their tranquillity uiulcT all e.\trcni(!S of ibrtuno; ]>eople who be- hold the king of terrors with intnipidity, and who laugh at the horrors of death, alike iin- movcajjle in liie hearing of the most alarming truths, the most terrible descriptions of futurity, censures the most sharp, and threatenings the most dreadful» And whence do they derive this calm intrepidity? From vows addressed to heaven? No. Is it from the progress they have made iit religion? Not at all. Is it from the clearness of a close, connected, and evident system? Nothing of all this. Whence then do they derive these sentiments? From 1 know not what secret pride, from 1 know not what absurd gravity, i'roiii I know not what infernal inflexibility, from a sort of sloicaJ, or shall I Ser. LIX.] TO OPPOSK GOD. 57 rather call it brutal pliilosophy, which they have revived. We inireiiuously acknowledire that tlie sight of people of this character always excites emulation in us, at least it leads us to deplore the inclFicacy of rclitained satisfaction by the se- cond method? A man, who has set his heart entirely at ease, because he can give full proof that he has performed the duties to which the gospel has annexed a promise of exemption from future misery, and a possession of endless felicity; such a man is truly happy; he has ar- rived at the highest degree of felicity that can possibly be obtained in this valley of tears; for his tranquillity is that "joy unspeakable and full of glory," of which our scripture speaks. It is that " peace of God, which passetli all un- derstanding." It is the " white stone, which no man knoweth saving him that recciveth Vol. II.— 8 it " But is this the condition of the man whom 1 have been describing? On what conditions does religion promise eternal life to a statesman? On condition that he always sets befijre his eyes that King, " by whom kings reign, and princes decree justice," Prov. viii. 15; on condition that he docs not rtjgard the ajipearance of persons; on condi- tion that he take no bribes, which God de- clares " blind the eyes." You have not per- formed this condition, you are intoxicated with your own grandeur, you are inaccessible to the cries of widows and orplians, you are Hexiblc to presents, though yon know they are given you to be relumed in actions dis- guised under the fair names of im])arliality and equity. And arc you in a state of trantalion, that they were mistaken. We complain, say they, that God exercises our virtue mure than he does that of other men, and though he allows these rude attacks, yet he does not afford us strength sulficient to resist them. No, says Solomon, whatever variety there may appear to be in the conduct of God towards men, yet there is always a certain uniformity, that clia- racterizes his conduct. Indeed he gives five talents to one, while he connnits only one ta- lent to another, and in this respect there is a variety: but he does not ro(iuire of liim, to whom he has connnitted one talent, an account of more than one talent; while he calls him to ac- count for five talents, to whom he committed five, and in this res|)ect there is a perfect uni- formity in his conduct; and so of the rest. " I know that whatsoever God doth (these are the words of Solomon,) 1 know that whatsoever God doth, it shall be for ever: nothing can be put to it, nor any thing taken from it, and God doth it, that men should fear before him. That which hath been is now, and that which is to be hath already been, and God requireth that which is past." But in our text the same words, " tlie thing that hath been is that which shall bo," have a different meaning. It is evident, by the place in which the Wise Rlan put tliem, that he in- tended to decry the good things of tiiis life, to make the vanity of them appear, and to con- vince mankind, that no revolutions can change the character of vanity essential to their con- dition. The connexion of the words establishes the meaning. From what events do mankind expect, says he, to procure to tiiemsclvcs a firm and solid happiness in this life? What efforts can bo made greater than have been made? Yet " what profit hatii a man of his labour which he takelh under the sun? One genera- tion passeth away, and anoliier génération Cometh," but the world continues the same; " the sun riseth, and the sun gootii down, and hasteth to his place where he arose. The wind gooth toward the south, and turnelh about unto the nortii, and the wind retiirniith again according to his circuits. All rivers run into the sea, and whence they come, thither they return again, vor. 3 — 7. The moral world resembles the world of nature. It is in vain to expect any vicissitude that will render the remaining i>art of life more happy than the former. " Tlio eye is not satisfied with seeing," ver. fi; or, as may be translated, " with con- sidering; nor the ear filled with hearing;" or, as the words may bo rendered, " the ear never coascs to listen."* JJut this contention, which makes us stretch all our faculties in search of * Visua ct auclitus syiiccdorhicc ponuntur pro omnibus iiuibus voluplalim peroipimiin. llnriiiii uulcm scnsiiiim inrmiiiit, tiiiii ijuia ciiriosiMiiiii •iiiit; turn quia et miiiimo labnrc ct mainiia i.'um delcrtatione excrccntiir, Puli 8ynupi. ill lor.. U. something to fill the void, that all past and present enjoyments have left in our hearts, this does not change the nature of things; all will be vanity in future, as all ha,s been vanity in former times. " The thing which hath been, is that wiiich sliall be; and that which is done, is that which hath been done; and there is no new thing under tiic sun." Weigh the.se words, my brethren, " the eye is not satisfied with seeing, nor the ear filled with hearing." It seems this is precisely the disposition of mind which the Wise Man at- tacks; a disposition, as 1 said before, common to mankind, and one of the principal causes of our innnoderatc attachment to life. Let each of us study his own lieart, and let us examine whether we know the j)ortrait that we are now going to try to sketch. We often declaim on the vanity of the world; but our declamations are not unfrequently more intended to indemnify j)ride, tlian to express the genuine feelings of a heart disabus- ed. We love to declaim against advantages out of our reach, and we take vengeance on them for not coming within our grasp by ex- claiming against them. But such ideas as these, how just soever they may appear, are only superficial. It would be a fatal error indeed, to persuade ourselves that we are really undeceived, and consider the world in a true point of light on this account. A dying man is all taken up with his then present condition. A desire of health occupies all tiie capacity of his soul; but he does not observe, that, should he recover, he would find the same troubles and pains as before, and on account of which he has felt so much uneasiness, and shed so many tears. A man waiting on the coast, to go abroad, wishes for nothing but a fair wind; and he does not think that he shall find other, and jjcrhaps greater calannties, in another climato than those which compelled him to (juit his native soil. This is an image of us all. Our minds are limited, and when an object i)resents itself to us, we consider it only in one point of view, in other lights we are not com|)etcnt to the examination of it. Hence the interest we take in some events, in tlie revolutions of states, the phenomena of nature, and the change of seasons: hence that perpetual desire of change; hence sportive phantoms incessantly created by our imagina- tions; hence chimerical projects for ever re- volving in our minds; or, as the Wise Man exjjressos it, " Eyes never sjitisficd with seeing, and ears never filled with hearing." O, says one, could I get cured of this illness, which renders life a burthen — could I, says another, get free from the company that poison all my pleasures — could 1 go, says a third, and settle in a country where maxims and laws are alto- gether ditlcrent from those under which 1 live — coulil 1 but obtain that place, which would take me out of the obscurity in which I am buried alive, and render me conspicuous — could I acy to ascend to that "city, which hatii foundations, whose builder and maker is God!" Heb. xi. I. 10. May we all, my dear brethrcMi, live, grow old, and die in these sentiments! (iod grant ns the grace. To him to be honour and glory for ever. Amen. SERMON LXI. DISGUST WITH LIFE. ECCLESIASTES ii. 17. / haled life, because the vork that is wrought under the sun is grievous itnto me. Werk we to estimate life by the idea which Solomon gives of it in the words of the text, it should seem there was very little wisdom in our congratulating one another, this morning, on begimiing a new year. There sliould seem better reasons for deploring our fate, because we are alive, than for congratulating one another on the happiness of seeing anotiier new year's day. Ye desolate families, in which death has made such cruel breaches! I think, while this day naturally brings to your remem- brance those dear parts of yourselves, you ought rather to shed tears of joy than sorrow! And you, " Rachel, weeping for your children," you ought rather " to be comforted for the children" that are, than for those that " are not." It should seem that the benedictions of the servant of. God, who preceded us this morning in this pulpit, and to which we are going to join ours, were very unsuitable to the tender affections we owe you, and to which this solemnity adds a new degree of activity and force. Long may you live, said we this morning to one another; may God bless you, your fellow- citizens, your relations, your friends, and your children, long may they live! I'^^njoy the bless- ings of peace, prosperity in commerce, stability in freedom, riches and plenty in abundance! Attain, and, if it be possible, go beyond the usual limits of the life of man, and may every day of that life be distinguished by some new prosperity. These were the benedictions and prayers which our friends uttered to us and we to them. And yet the Wise Man tells us, that riches and plenty, that the best established li- berty and the most prosperous trade, that the blessings of peace and all the advantages of this life, are nothing but vanity. He does more, after he had experienced all the pomp of worldly grandeur, and inmiensity of wealth, the utmost refinement, of pleasure, and the most extensive reputation, after he had been the ha])])iest mortal that ever lived upon earth, he tells us in the words of tiie text, " I hated life, because the work that is wrought under the sun is grievous unto me." What then, must we revoke the congratula- tions of this morning? Do we come to pray to CJiid to send out iiis destroying angels to return us that mortality which has been ravaging our towns and provinces? Are we come to collect all our prayers' into tliis one of .lonah, "O Lord, take, I beseech thee, my life from me, for it is better for me to die than to live," chap. Preaclicd uii llie first day of the year 1728. Ser. LXL] DISGUST WITH LIFE. 65 iv. 3; or, in this of Elijah, " It is cnougli, now, O Lord, take away my life, for I am not Ijctter than my fathers!" 1 Kings xix. 4. It is this contrast of i(le;is that wc will en- deavour to reconcile, for in this point of lijjiit we are goinn- to consider the words of tlie text, and to treat of disgust with the world and con- teni[)t of life. Happy! if we be aiile hy any observations of ours to abate the as|)crity of your minds in regard to tlio hateful things of life, and to engage you to make a holy use of every thing agreeable in it. Happy! if, by turning your attention to the amiable side of life, we may inspire you witii gratitude to <îod for preserving it, in spite of the many perils to which it is exposed; and if, by sliowmg you the other side, we may incline you to quit it with joy, whenever it shall ])leaso God to re- quire it. This is the substance of all our ac- clamations and prayers in your favour to-day. Almighty and most merciful God, condescend to ratify in heaven what wc are sincerely en- deavouring to efl'ect on earth! Amen. I suppose it is Solomon himself who ppeaks the words of my text, and not any one of the interlocutors, whom he introduces in his book. I suppose that he expresses in the words his own sentiments, and not those of any other person; and that he tells us not what he thought while his reason was wandering, and he was pursuing the vanities of the world, but what he thought after his recovery, and when he was under the direction of divine wisdom. This observation is absolutely necessary for the understanding of the text. The great dif- ficulty of the Book of Ecclesiastes is owing to the great variety of persons who are introduced there, each of whom proposes maxims con- formable to his own principles. Is it the same man, who says in one place, " Go thy way, eat thy bread with joy, and drink thy wine with a merry heart. Live joyfully all the days of thy vanity, for that is thy portion in this life, and God now accepteth thy works," chap. i.x. 7. 9; and in another place, " Rejoice, O yoimg man, in thy youth, and walk in the ways of thy heart: but know thou, that for all these things God will bring thee to judgment?" chap, xi. 9. Is it the sauie man, who says in one place, " I commended mirth, because a man hath no better thing under the sun than to eat, and to drink, and to be merry," cliaj). viii. 15; and in another place, " I said of laughter, it is mad; and of mirth, what doth it'" (thap. ii. 2. Is it the same man, who says in one place, *' The dust shall return to the earth as it was, and the spirit shall return unto God who gave it," chap. xii. 7; and in another place, " The dead have no more a reward, for the memory of them is forgotten: to him that is joined to all the living there is hope, but the dead know not any thing, for a living dog is better than a dead lion?" chap. ix. 4, &c. Expositors of this book, perhaps, have not always paid a sufficient attention to this variety. Which of us has not, for example, quoted against the doctrine of invocation of saints these words, "The living know that they shall die, but the dead know not any thing; their love, and their hatred is now perished, neither have they any more a portion for ever in any thing that is done under the sun?" chap. i.v. 6, 6. Vol. 11.— I) Yet I think we have sufficient reasons to pre- sume, that the Wise Man puts these words into tlie mouth of a libertine, so that though they contain a truth, yet they cannot be proposed in i)roition as he had been infatuated with it, and his hatred of life is exactly as extravagant as his love of it had been; that is to sa}', the.se sentiments, which seem so just and respectable, do not proceed from serious rellections on the viinvs, which an immortal soul ought to have: that is to .say, you Would have consented to renounce all hopes of future happiness, and to be for ever separated from God, had not, the spring of your life passed away with so mucii rapidity, had your conn«!.\- ions been more durable, had your interest at court been better su|>porled. How pitiable is your condition! In it you unite the misfortunes of time with the miseries of eternity. You disclaim both heaven and earth, you are disgusted with the vanity of the one, and you have no taste for the other. A worldling indemnifies himself by present enjoy- ments t'oT the loss of future bliss, of which he has no prospect; anil a Christian indemnities himself by enjoying pleasures in prospect for the loss of sensual delights; but you! at what do you aspire? Your condition is the height of misery, as it is the height of absurdity. Ser. LXI.] DISGUST WITH LIFE. 67 It is not in any of these senses that the Wise Man says, " I hated Hfc, because tlie work that is wrought under the sun is grievous unto mo." He would have us understand, that tlie earth has more thorns than flowers — that our condi- tion here, tiiough incomparably better than we deserve, is iiowever inadequate to our just and constitutional desires — that our inconveniences in this life would seem intolerable, unless we were wise enough to direct thein to the same end that (Jod proposed by e.\[K)siiig us to sutler tlinm — in a word, that nothing but hope in a future state formed on another ])laii can reiidc^r the disorders of this world tolerai)le. So nmch may serve to expUdn the meaning of the Wise Man. II. IjCt us now proceed to justify the sense given, and to this I shall devote the remainder of this discourse, and all the moments of atten- tion which we shall take the liberty to retjuire of you. I will make use of no artifice to obtain my end. I will not affect, in order to detach you from the world, to e.vhibit only the odious things of the world; nor will 1 combat an excessive love of life by opposing against it the ])ains and the miseries of the living; but I mean to attack your idols in their fiirt, to decry life by showing its most amiable sides, and to endeavour to dis- gust you with the world by exposing the most desirable olijects in it. The phantoms tli.at seduced Solomon during his dissipation may be reduced to two classes. The first suppose in the dissipated man very little knowledge, and very little taste; and it is astonishing that a man so eminently endowed with knowledge could set his heart upon them. The second may more easilv impose on an en- lightened and generous mind. In tlie first class I place riches, grandeur, and voluptuousness, with all their appendages. If these be, as they certainly are, the most conmion idols of man- kind, it is for a reason inglorious to them, it is because most men have very little knowledge and very little taste. The world has phantoms more specious, life has charms more capable of seducing a generous heart, and of imposing on a liberal mind. I put these into three classes. In tlie first I put the advantages of science — in the second the pleasures of friendship — in the third the privi- leges, I mean the temporal privileges of virtue and heroism. I will endeavour to unmask these three figures, and to prove, that the very dis- positions whicli sliould contribute most to the pleasure of life, mental abilities, tenderness of heart, rectitude and delicacy of conscience, are actually dispositions which contribute most of all to imbitter life. 1. If ever possession* could make man happy, Solomon must certainly have been the happiest of mankind. Imagine the most proper and the most effectual means of acquiring knowledge, joined to an avidity to obtain it, both were united in the person of this prince. We indi- viduals, when we have received from Heaven abilities for science, we generally want assist- ance to cultivate them. What individual is able to send emissaries into distant climes to make observations to perfect geography, physic, astronomy, botany, navigation.' An individual, to make collections, to ascertain reports, to procure materials, must carry on works, which, in a word, more properly belong to the beasts of burden of the learned world than to himself, wiiose time should be better employed in exer- cising, and improving his own natural abilities. An individual seldom has it in his power to gain access to the museinns of great men, and to procure the productions of their pens, or to consult the oracles that j)roceed from tlieir mouths. An individual is of"ten rondenmed to turn the studies that naturally employ his libe- ral mind into a mercenary trade, the only means of providing bread for himself and his family. In some protestant states youth are but half educated fi)r want of endowments, and jK'ople choose rather to pluck the unripe fruits of the finest genius than to furnish him with the means of bringing them to perfection. A king, a rich king like Solomtm, is free from all these dilhculties. He has all the assistance necessary to the cultivation of his mind, and to the full gratification of his avidity fiir science. I le sa)-s, what perliajis you have not sntficiently observed, " 1 turiKid myself to behold wisdom," that is, 1 applied myscdf to the sciences, and " what can the man do that cometh after the king?" chap. ii. \2. That is, who will ever have such innumerable means of acipiiring and pcrli'Cting knowledge as those with which royal advantages furnish mc.' Accordingly the world was filled with the science of this prince, and his science has given occasion to a great many fabulous histories. To him has been attributed a book entitled the " Contradiction of Solomon," condemned by Pope Gelasius, and other works named " In- chantments, clavicula, necromancy, ideas, neo- maenia, letters to king Hiram." Some ancient fathers thought tliat the pagan philosophers had read his writings, and that Aristotle in partifuilar had taken his " History of animals" from the works of this prince. Josephus says, that he composed a "book of charms" to heal the incurable, and that one Eleazar, a Jew, had found in it a secret, by which he freed a person from pos.session, a reverie mentioned by Origen. The schoolmen have agitated a great many indiscreet que.stions concerning the science of Solomon, and have inquired, whe- ther he were more learned than the angels and the Virgin Mary; and they have persuaded themselves not only that he was a great poet, a great physician, and a great astronomer, but also that he understood all the mysteries of the theology of the schools, and was well acquaint- ed with the doctrine of transubstantiation. We have better evidence of the science of Solomon than these visionaries. The Scrip- ture itself informs us, that God "gave him a wise and an understanding heart, so that there was none like him before, neither af\er him should any arise like unto him," I Kings iii. I -2; that he was " wiser," that is a greater phi- losopher, " than all the children of the east country, and all the Egyptians," chap. iv. 30, 31. I5y the children of the east we understand the Arabian philosophers, Chaldeans, and the Persians, so famous for their erudition, and particularly for their profound knowledge of astronomy. He was wiser than all the Egyp- tians, that is, the most consummate doctors of Egypt, a country famous in the time of Moses 68 DISGUST WITH LIFE. [Ser. LXI. for its literature, ciilled by the pagans the mo- ther of arts, and who boasted that they first of all men knew how to take dimensions of tlie stars, and tu calculate their motions, as Macru- bius, Dioilorus of Sicily, and many other au- thors aliirni. The Scripture says that Solomon was " wiser than Ethan, Heman, Chalcol, and Darda:" names which the Jews understand in a mystical sense, meaning by Ethan Abraham, by Heman Moses, and Chalcol Joseph. The Scripture says farther, that he composed *' three thousand proverbs, and a thousand and five songs; tliat he spake of trees, from tiie ce- dar tree that is in Lebanon, even unto the hys- sop, that springclh out of the wall, also of beasts, and of fowl, and of creeping things, and of fishes," vcr. 32, 33. Some of tliese works are a part of the canon of Scripture, but the rest are lost. Now what says this great man concerning science? He acknowledges indeed that it was preferable to ignorance, " the wise man's eyes," says he, " are in his head," that is, a man of education is in possession of some prudential maxims to regulate his life, whereas an illite- rate man " walketh in darkness:" but yet says he " it happeneth even to me, as it happeneth to the fool, and why was 1 then wise?" ver. 15. And again, " the eye is not satisfied with see- ing, nor tiie car filled with hearing; for in much wisdom is mucii grief, and he that in- creaseth knowledge increasetii sorrow," chap. j. 8. 18. So again, in another place, after he had proposed some rules for the government of life, he adds, " My son bo admonished by these, for of making many books there is no end, and nmch study is a weariness of the flesh," chap. ,\ii. 1-'. I wisli I could weigh every expression. Observe however two im- perfections of science. 1. Observe first the llllle progress made in science by tiiose who pursue it to the highest pitch. As they advance in this immense field they discover, shall 1 say new exleiils, or new abysses, which they can never fitlioin. Tlic more they nourish themselves with this ricli pasture, the more keen do their a[)pelites be- come. " The eye is never satisfied with see- ing, nor the ear with hearing, and of making many books there is no end." 2. Remark ne.\t the iUlle justice done in the world to such as excel most in science. " He tliat increascth knowledge increaseth sorrow, and it happeneth even to me as it happeneth to a fool." Yes! after you have spent all your youth, after you have impaired your health, after you have spent your fortune to improve your own mind, and to enable you to improve those of other men, " it will happen to you even as it ha|)pcneth to a fool." You will be told, that sciences have nothing in them that deserve the attention of a man of quality. A man of mean extraction, who carries himself like a lord, will tell you that a man of birth ought to aspire at sometliing more noble than meditating on questions of law, studying cases of conscience, and explaining holy Scripture. You will be told, that there is not half the knowledge required to s|)arklo in |)olitical bo- dies, and to decide on a bench the lives, and fortunes, and honours of mankind. Presump- tuous youtha will judge, and without appeal condemn your discourses and your publications, and will pronounce with decisive tone this is not solid, that is s^iptrficial! The superiority of your understanding will raise up against you a world of ignorant peojde, who will say, that you corrujjt the youtli, because you would guard them against prejudice; that you stab orthodoxy, because you endeavour to heal the wounds which pedantry and intolerance have given it; that you trouble society, because you endeavour to purify morality, and to engage the great as well as the small, magistrates as well as people, to submit to its holy laws. They will prefer before you, both in the state and in the church, novices who are hardly fit to l>e your disciples. Blessed idiots! You, who surrounded with a circle of idiots like yourselves, having first slupified yourselves with your own vanity, are now intoxicated with the incense oficred your admirers; you, who, having collected a few bombastic phrases, are spreading the sails of your eloquence, and are bound for the ocear» of glory: you, whose sublime nonsense, stale common-places, and pedantic systems, have acquired you such a reputation for learning and erudition as is due only to real merit: your condition seems to me often preferable to that of first-rate geniuses, and most accomplished scholars! All! " Wisdom is vanity and vexa- tion of spirit — of making many books there is no end — it liapjHîneth even to me as it happen- eth to the fool — there is no remembrance of the wise more than of the fool, for all shall be forgotten — therefore I hated life, because the work that is wrought under the sun is grievous unto me." 2. The second disposition, which seems as if it would contribute nmch to the pleasure of life, but which often embitters it, is teiulerruss of heart. Let the sacred names of friendship and tenderness never coine out of some mouths; let tliem never be used by profane people to ex- press certain connexions, which far from hav- ing tho reality have not even the appearance of'rational sensibility! Would you give these names to such vague associations as are formed only because you are a burden to yourselves; to connexions in which the sentiments of the heart have no share, in which nothing is in- tended except the mutual performance of some capricious customs or the assuaging of some criminal passions, to the impetuosity of which you liice brute beasts are given up? Would you give tlicse names to those unpleasant in- terviews, in which while you visit, you inward- ly groan under tho necessity of visiting, in which the mouth protests what the heait de- nies, in which, while you outwardly profess to be affected with tiie misfortunes of another, you consider them inwardly with inditference and insensibility, and while you congratulate theiu on the prosperity which Providence be- stows, you cn\y their condition, and sometimes regard it with a malice and mortification you cannot help discovering? By friendship and tenderness, I mean those affectionate attachments produced by a secret sympathy, which virtue cements, which piety sanctifies, which a mutual vigilance over each other's interests confirms with indissoluble, I had almost said eternal, bonds. I call a friend Skr. LXI.] DISGUST WITH LIFE. 69 an inestimable treasure which might for a while render our abode on earth as liap|)y as that in heaven, did not that wise Providence, that formed us for heaven and not for earth, refuse us tiie ])ossession of it. It is clear by the writings of Solomon, and more so by the history of his life, that his heart was very accessible to this kind of i)leasure. How often does he write encomiums on faith- ful friends! " A friend," says he, " lovcth at all times, he is a brother born for adversity. A friend sticketh closer than a hrotlier," Prov. xvii. 17, and xviii. 2-1. But wiiere is this friend, who sticketh closer than a brother.' Where is this friend, who loveth at all times? One would tiiink the Wise Man drew the por- trait only to save us the useless labour of in- quiring after the original. Perhaps 3'ouare in- capable of tasting tlie bitterness of friendship, only because you are incapable of relishing the sweetness of it. What friends do we make upon earth? At first lively, eager, full of ardour: presently dull, and disgusted through the ease with which they had been gratified. . At first soft, gentle, all condescension and compliance: presently mas- ters, imperious tyrants, rigorously exacting as a debt an assiduity which can arise only from inclination, pretending to domineer over our reason, after they have vitiated our taste. At first attentive and teachable, while prejudices conceal their imperfections from us, ready to acquiesce in any thing while our sentiments are conformable to their inclinations: but pre- sently intractable and frovvard, not knowing how to yield, though we gently point out their frailty, and endeavour to assist them to correct it. At first assiduous, faithful, generous, while fortune smiles on us: but presently, if she be- tray us, a thousand times more faithless, un- grateful, and perfidious than she. What an airy phantom is human friendship! I wish, however, through the favour of hea- ven, that what is only an airy nothing to other men may become a reality in regard to you, and I will take it for granted, that you have I found what so many others have souglit in vain. Alas! I must, yes, here I must deplore your destiny. Multiplied, so to speak, in the person of that other self, you are going to mul- tiply your troubles. You are going to feel in that other self ills which hitherto you have felt only in yourself. You will be disgraced in his disgraces, sick in his sicknesses. If for a few years you enjoy one anotiier, as if each were a whole world, presently, presently death will cut the bond, presently death will dissolve the tender ties, and separate your entwined hearts. Then you will iind yourself in a universal soli- tude. You will think the whole world is dead. The universe, the whole universe, will seem to you a desert uninhabited, and uninhabitable. Ah! You wlio experience this, shall I call you to attest these sorrowful truths? Shall I open again wounds which time has hardly closed? Shall I recall those tremulous adieus, those cruel separations, which cost you so many re- grets and tears? Shall I expose to view bones, and infection, and putrefaction, the only re- mains of him who was your support in trouble, your counsel in difficulty, your consolation in adversity? Ah, charms of friendship, delicioua errors, lovely chimeras, you are infinitely more capa- ble of deceiving than of satisfying us, of poi- soning life than of sweetening it, and of mak- ing us break with tiie world than of attaching us to it! My soul, wouldst tliou form unalter- able connexions! Set thy love upon thy trea- sure, esteem God, obey his holy voice, which from tl)e highest heavens says to thee, " Give me thine heart!" In God thou wilt find a love fixed and faithful, a love beyond the reach of temporal revolutions, wliicli will follow thee, and fill t!ice with felicity for ever and ever. 3. in fine, I will venture to affirm, that if any thing seems cajiablo to render life agree- ble, and if any tiling in general renders it disagreeable, it is rectitude, and ddicacy of conscience. I know Solomon seems here to contradict himself, and the author of the Book of Proverbs seems to refute the author of the Book of Ecclesiastes. The author of the Book of Ecclesiastes informs us, that virtue is generally useless, and sometimes hurtful in this world: but according to the author of the Book of Proverbs virtue is most useful in this world. Hear the author of Ecclesiastes. " All things have I seen in the days of my vani- ty: there is a just man that perisheth in his righteousness, and there is a wicked man that prolongeth ]:is life in his wickedness. All things come alike to all, there is one event to the righteous and to the wicked; to him that sacrificeth, and to him that sacrificeth not: as is the good so is the sinner; and he that sweareth, as he that feareth an oath, chap, vii. 15. ix. 2. Hear the author of the Book of Proverbs. " My son, forget not my law: but let thy heart keep my commandments; for length of days, and long life, and peace shall they add to thee. Let not mercy and truth forsake thee: bind them about thy neck, write them upon the table of thine heart. So shalt thou find favour, and good understand- ing in the sight of God and man. Happy is the man that findeth wisdom, and the man that getteth understanding. For the mer- chandise of it is better than the merchandise of silver, and the gain thereof than fine gold. She is more precious than rubies; and all the things thou canst desire are not to be compar- ed with her," chap. iii. 1 — 3. 13 — 15. How shall we reconcile these things? To say, as some do, that the author of Proverbs speaks of the spiritual rewards of virtue, and the author of Ecclesiastes of the temporal state of it, is to cut the knot instead of unty- ing it. Of many solutions, which we have no time now to examine, there is one that bids fair to remove the difficulty; that is, that when the author of the Book of Proverbs makes temporal advantages the rewards of virtue, he speaks of some rare periods of so- ciety, whereas tlie author of Ecclesiastes de- scribes the common general state of things. Perhaps the former refers to the happy time, in which the example of the piety of David being yet recent, and ihc prosperity of his successor not having then infected either the heart of the king or the morals of his subjects, reputation, riches, and honours, were bestow- ed on good men: but the second, probably, speaks of what came to pass soon after. In 70 DISGUST WITH LIFE. [Ser. LXI. the first period life was amiable, and living in the world delicious: but of the second the Wise Man says, " I hated life because the work that is wrought under the sun is griev- ous unto me." To wliich of thé two periods does the age in which we live belong? Judge by tlie de- scription given by the preacher as he calls him- self. Then mankind were ungrateful, the public did not remember the benefits conferred on them by individuals, and their services were unrewarded. "Tliere was a little city be- sieged by a great king, who built great bul- warks against it, and there was found in it a poor wise man, who by his wisdom delivered the city, yet no man remembered that same poor man," chap. ix. 14, 15. Then courtiers, mean and ungrateful, base- ly forsook their old master, and paid their court to the heir apparent. " I saw all tlie living under the sun walking after the child, who shall stand up next instead of the king,"* chap. iv. 15. Then strong oppressed the weak. " I con- sidered all the oppressions that are done un- der the sun, and behold, the tears of such as were oppressed, and they had no comforters, and on the side of their oppressors there was power, but they had no comforter." Then the courts of justice were corrupt. " I saw the place of judgment, tiiat wickedness was there" . . . chap. iii. 16. We will not finish this disagreeable picture. -" I hated life, because the work that is wrought under the sun is grievous unto me." Such is the idea the Wise Man gives us of the world. Yet these vain and precarious ob- jects, this world so proper to inspire a rational mind with disgust, this life so proper to e.\cite hatred in such as know what is worthy of es- teem, this is that which has always fascinated, and which yet continues to fascinate the bulk of mankind. This it was that infatuated the inhabitants of the old world, who, even after God had pronounced this dreadful decree, " My spirit shall not always strive with man, for he is flesh, and after a hundred and twenty years he shall be no more,"t forgot themselves in tiie pursuit of present pleasure, " They were eat- ing and drinking, marrying and giving in mar- riage, until the day that tlie flood came, and took them all away," Matt. xxiv. 38, 39. This was what bewitched tlje wiiolo hea- then world, who lived " without hope, and without God in the world," Epli. ii. 12. This was what enchanted that highly favour- ed nation, which God distinguislied from the rest of t!ie world, and to vvhicii he gave liis laws, and intrusted liis propiiecies, yet tliey " forsook tlie fountain of living waters, and * The tense given (o this passage by our author is agreeable both to the French version, and to the origi- nal. J' ai oui toxit les vivitns qui marctioU sous le so- Uel après I' enfant, ijui est la seconde personne qui doit être en la place du roi. Per puerum secunilum intcllige, regis filiuin et hxredem, «juud a rege sucuudus est, ac poress scandalous books, to make solemn festivals observed, to procure wise, zealous, and faithful ministers for the church. Magistrates, who enter into these noble designs, have a right to expect from God all the assistance necessary to cflect them. To thee. Almighty God, we address our prayers for such assistance for these illustrious persons! O that our petitions may enter heaven, and our prayers be heard and answered! Ministers, my dear coadjutors in the great work of salvation, successore of the apostles in the work of the ministry " for the edifying of the body of Christ!" p]ph. iv. 1-', God has set narrow limits to what the world calls our prefer- ment and fortune. The religion we profess does not allow us to aspire after such high- sounding titles, eminent posts, and splendid equii)ages, as confound the minister of tempo- ral kings with the ministers of that Jesus whose " kingdom is not of this world:" but what we Of Rotterdam. lose in regard to the glittering advantages of the world, wo gain in regard to real and sub- stantial advantages; if we ourselves understand that religion which we teach others, and if we feel the spirit of that calling, with which God has honoured us. May God grant, may the God who has honoured us, grant us such knowledge and virtue as are essential to the worthy discharge of our duty! May he bestow all that intrepidity, which is always necessary to resist tiie enemies of our holy reformation, and sometimes those, who under the name of reformed, endeavour to counteract and destroy it! May he support us under the perpetual contradictions we meet with in the course of our ministry, and invigorate us with the hopes of those high degrees in glory, which await such as " turn many to rigliteousness, who shall shine as the stars for ever and ever!" Dan. xii. 3. Merchants, you are the pillars of this re- public, and you are the means of our enjoying prosperity and plenty. May God continue to bless your commerce! May he cause winds and waves, nature, and every element, to unite in your favour! Above all, may God teach you the holy skill of placing your " heart where your treasure is;" of making yourselves friends of the " mammon of unrighteousness," Matt, vi. 21; Luke xvi. 9; of sanctifying your pros- perity by your charity, especially on such a day as this, in which we should make con- science of paying a homage of love to a " God who is love," and whose goodness has brought us to sec this day. Fathers and mothers of families, with whom I have the honour and happiness of joining myself, may God help us to consider our chil- dren not merely as formed for this world, but as intelligent and immortal beings made for eternity! May God grant, we may be infi- nitely more desirous to see them happy in heaven than prosperous on earth! May God continue these children, so necessary to the pleasure of our lives, to our last moments! God grant, if wc be required to give them up to the grave, we may have all tlie submission thai is necessary to sustain such violent shocks. My brethren, this article cuts the thread of my discourse. May God answer all the prayers I have uttered, and that far greater number which I have suppressed! Amen. SERMON LXIL THE PASSIONS. 1 Peter ii. 2. Dearly beloved, I beseech you as strangers and pUgrhns, abstain from fleshly lusts, tchich tear against the soul. The words you have heard, my brethren, offer four subjects of meditation to your minds. First, the nature of the passions — secondly, the disorders of tliem — thirdly, the remedies to be applied — and lastly, the motives that engage us to subdue them. In the first place we will give you a general idea of what the apostle calls "fleshly lusts," or in modern style the 7» THE PASSIONS. [Ser. Lxn. passions. We will examine secondly, the war which they wa^e "against the soul." Our third part will inform you of the means of ab- gtaining from these fleshly lusts. And in the last place we will endeavour to make you feel the power of this motive, " as strangers and pilgrims," and to press home this exhortation of the apostle, " Dearly beloved, I beseech you as strangers and pilgrims, abstain from fleshly lusts, which war against the soul." 1. In order to uitderstand the nature of the passions, we will explain the subject by a few preliminary remarks. 1. An intelligent being ought to love every thing that can elevate, per])etuate, and make him happy; and to avoid whatever can degrade, confine, and render him miserable. This, far from being a human depravity, is a perfection of nature. Man has it in conunon witii celes- tial intelligences, and with God himself This reflection removes a false sense, which the language of St. Peter may seem at first to con- vey, as if the apostle meant by eradicating " fleshly lusts" to destroy the true interests of man. The most ancient enemies of the Christian religion loaded it with this reproach, because they did not understand it; and some super- ficial people, who know no more of religion than the surface, pretend to render it odious by the same means. Under pretence that the Christian religion forbids ambition, they say it degrades man, and under pretence that it for- bids n)isguided self-love, they say it makes man miserable. A gross error! A false idea of Chri.«tianity! If the gospel humbles, it is to elevate us; if it forbids a self-love ill-directed, it is in order to conduct us to sul)stantial happi- ness. By " fleshly lusts," St. Peter does not mean such desires of the heart as put us on aspiring after real happiness and true glory. -'. An intelligent being united to a body, and lodged, if I may speak so, in a portion of matter under this law, that according to tiie divers motions of this matter he shall receive sensa- tions of pleasure or pain, must naturally love to e.xcite within himself sensations of pleasure, and to avoid painful feelings. This is agreea- ble to tiio institution of the Creator. He in- tends, for reasons of adorable wisdom, to pre- serve a society of mankind for several ages on earth. To accomplisli this design, he has so ordered it, that what contributes to tiie support of tiio body shall give the soul pleasure, and that which would dissolve it would give pain, so that by these means we may preserve our- selves. Aliments are agreeable; the dissolution of the parts of our bodies is painful; love, hatred, and anger, properly understood, and exercised to a certain degree, are natural and fit. The stoics, who aimihilated tiie passions, did not know man, and the schoolmen, wiio to comfort people under the gout or the stone, told them IJKit a rational man ought not to pay any re- gard to what passed in his body, never made many disciples among wise men. This observa- tion affords us a second clew to the meaning of llic apostle: at least it gives us a second pre- caution to avoid an error. ]\y " fleslily lusts" lie docs not mean a natural inclination to pre- serve tlie body and the uase of lile; he allows love, hatred, and anger, to a certain degree, and as far as the exercise of them docs not prejudice a greater interest. Observe well this last expression, as far as may be without preju- dice to a greater interest. The truth of our second reflection depends on this restriction. 3. A being composed of two substances, one of which is more excellent than the other; a being placed between two interests, one of which is greater than the other, ought, when these two interests clash, to prefer the more noble before the less noble, the greater interest before the less. This third princij)le is a third clew to what St. Peter calls " lusLs," or pas- sions. Man has two substances, and two in- terests. As far as he can without prejudicing his eternal interest he ought to endeavour to promote his temporal interest: but when the two clash he ought to sacrifice the less to the greater. " Fleshly lusts" is put for what is ir- regular and depraved in our desires, and what makes us prefer the body before the soul, a temporal before an eternal interest. That this is the meaning of the apostle is clear from his calling these passions or " lusts fleshly." What is the meaning of this word? The Scripture generall}' uses the word in two senses. Some- times it is literally and properly put for flesh, and sometimes it signifies sin. St. Peter calls the passions " fleshly" in both these senses; in the first, because some come from the body, as voluptuousness, anger, drunkenness; and in the second, because they spring from our depravity. Hence the apostle Paul puts among the works of the flesh both those which have their seat in the body, and those which have in a manner no connexion with it. " Now the works of the flesh are these, adultery, lascivi- ousncss, idolatry, heresies, envyings." Ac- cording to this the " works of the flesh" are not only such as arc seated in the flesh (for envy and heresy cannot bo of this sort,) but all de- praved dispositions. This is a general idea of the passions: but as it is vague and obscure, we will endeavour to explain it more distinctly, and with thia- view we will show — first what the passions do in the mind — next what they do in the sense» — thirdly, what they are in tlie imagination — and lastly, what they are in the heart. Four portraits of the passions, four explications of the condition of man. In order to connect the matter more closely, as we show you what " fleshly lusts" are in these four views, we will endeavour to convince you that in these four respects they " war against tlie soul." The second part of our discourse therefore, which was to treat of the disorders of the passions, will be included in the first, which explain» their nature. 1 . The passions produce in the mind a strong attention to whatever can justify and gratify them. The most odious oi)jects may be so placed as to appear agreeable, and the most lovely objects so as to appear odious. Thero is no absurdity so palpable but it may be made to appear likely; and there is no truth so clear but it may be made to appear doubtful. A l)a.ssionato man fi.xes all the attention of his mind on such sides of objects as favour his pas- sion, and this is the source of innumerable false judgings, of which wo are every day witnesses and authors. If you observe all the passions, you will find Seii. LXIL] THE PASSIONS. 73 they have all this character. What is vengeance in the mind of a vindictive man? It is a fixed attention to all the favourable lijrhts in which vengeance tnay be considered; it is a continual etudy to avoid every odious lic to llee from the ol)ject that excites thinn; but the passions produce other disorders, they leave deep impressions on the hiuiginalion. When we giv(; ourselves up to the senses, we feel [ileasure, tiiis pleasure strikes the imagination, and tiie imagination thus struck with the pleasure it has found, re- collects it, and solicits the |)asHionatc man to return to objects that made him so happy. Thus old men have sometinuis miserable re- mains of a passion, whii'h seems to suppose a certain constitution, and which should seem to lie extinct, Jis the constitution implied is no more: but the recollection that sucli and such objects had been the cause of sui'h and such j)lcasures is dear to their souls; tiiey 1oV(î to remember them, they make them a part of all their conversations; they drew flattering por- traits, and by recounting their ))ast pleasures indemnify tlieuisclves for the proliibition, un- Ser. LXII.] THE PASSIONS. 75 der which old age has laid tlicni. For the same reason it is, tiiat a worldiiiifj, who has plunged Jiiniseif into all the dissipations of life, finds it so ditVicult to renounce the world when he conies to die. Indeed a body homo down with illness, a nature almost extinct, senses half dead, seem improper habitations of love to sensual pleasure; and yet imagination struck with past pleasure tells tliis skeleton, that the world is amiable, that alw.ays wiien he went into it he enjoyed a real i)leasure, and that, on the contrary, always when he ixjrfornicd reli- gious exercises iic felt pain; and this lively im- pression gives sucii a man a present aversion to religion; it incessantly turns iiis mind to- wards the objects of which dcalii is about to deprive him, so that, without a miracle of grace, he can never look towards the objects sencc, and excite in him a love more we are in this world, hut imparts felicity by means of creatures, he li:is given these creatures two characters, which being well examined by a reasonable man, conduct liim to the Creator, but which turn the passionate nian aside. On the oijc hand, creatures render us hap|)y to a certain degree, this is their first character: on liie olher, they leave a void in the soul, which tlicy nn'. incapable of filling, this is tlieir second character. This is the design of (iod, and this design the pa.ssions oppose. I^ict us hear a rcason.ible man draw conclusions, and let us iibsi'rve what opposite conclusions a pas.sionate man draws. The reasonable man says, creatures leave a void in my soul, which they are incapable of filling: hut what ctfect should this produce in my h(îart, and what end had (Jod in setting bounds so strait to that power of making me hajipy, wiiicli he communicated to them? It was to reclaim ine to himself, U> persuade me that he only can make me happy; it was to make me s;iy to myself, my desires are eternal, whatever is not eternal is unetiual to my de- sires; my pa.s.sions are infinite, whatever is not infinite is beneath my passions, and God only can satisfy them. A passionate man, from the void he finds in the creatures, draws conclusions directly oppo- site. Each creature in particular is incapable of making me lia])py: but could I unite them all, could 1, so to si)e.ik, extract the substanti.al from all, certainly nothing would be wanting to my happiness. In this miserable supjiosition he becomes full of perturbation, he launches out, he collects, he accumulates. It is not enonofli to acquire conveniences, he must have superlluilics. It is not enough that my name be known in my family, and among my ac- quaintance, it must be spread over the whole city, the province, the kingdom, the four parts of tiie globe. Every clime illuminated by the sun shall know that I exist, and that I have a superior genius. It is not enough to conquer some hearts, I will subdue all, and display the astonishing art of uniting all voices in my fa- vour; men divided in opinion about every thing else shall agree in one point, that is, to cele- I'lrate my praise. It is not enough to have many inferiors, I must have no master, no e(pial, I must be a universal monarch, and sub- violent than that of actual possession, when he I due the whole world; and when 1 shall have fell at least the folly and vanity of it. O horrid war of the passions against the soul! Shut the door of your closets against the enchanted ob- ject, it will enter with you. Try to get lid of it by traversing plains, and fields, and whole countries; cleave the waves of the sea, fly on the wings of the wind, and try to put between yourself and your encliantress tiic deep, the rolling ocean, she will travel witli you, sail with you, every wiiere haunt you, because wherever you go you will carry yourself, and within you, deep in your imagination, the be- witching image impressed. Let us consider, in fine, the passions in the heart, and the disorders tiiey cause there. -.- What can fill the heart of man? A prophet has answered this question, and has included all morality in one point, " inv chief good is to draw near to God," Ps. Ixxiii. 29; but as God does not commune with us immediately, while accomplished tlie.se vast designs, I will seek other creatures to subdue, and more worlds to conquer. Thus the passions disconcert the plan of God! Such are the conclusions of a heart infatuated with passion! The disciple of reason says, creatures contri- bute to render me lia|)py to a certain degree: but this power is not their own. Gross, sensible, material beings cannot contribute to the happiness of a spiritual creature. If crea- tures can augment my happiness, it is because God has lent them a power natural only to himself God is then tiie source of felicity, and all I sec elsewhere is only an emanation of his essence: but if the streams be so pure, what is the fountain! If elYects be so noble, what is the cause! If rays be so luminous, what is the source of light from which they proceed! The conclusions of an impassioned man are 76 THE PASSIONS. [Ser. LXII. directly opposite. Says he, creatures render me happy to a certain degree, therefore they are the cause of iny happiness, ihey deserve all my efforts, they siiall be my god. Thus the passionate man renders to his aliments, his gold, his silver, his equipage, his horees, the most nohie act of adoration. For what is the most nohle act of adoration? Is it to build temples' To erect altars? To kill victims? To sacrifice burnt-ofiorings? To burn incense? No. It is that inclination of our heart to union with God, that aspiring to possess him, that love, tiiat effusion of soul, which makes us ex- claim, " My ciiief good is to draw near to God." This homage the inan of passion renders to the object of his passions, " his god is his belly," his " covctousness his idolatry;" and this is what " fleshly lusts" become in the heart. They remove us from God, and, by removing us from him, deprive us of all the good that proceeds from a union with the supreme good, and thus make war with every part of our- selves, and with every moment of our dura- tion. War against our reason, for instead of deriv- ing, by virtue of a union to God, assistance necessary to the practice of what reason ap- proves, and what grace only renders practica- ble, we are given up to our evil dispositions, and compelled by our passions to do what our own reason abhors. War against tlio regulation of life, for instead of putting on by virtue of union to God, the ♦' easy yoke," and taking up the " light bur- den" which religion imposes, wc become slaves of envy, vengeance and ambition; we are weigiied down with a yoke of iron, which we have no power to get rid of, ev<:n tliough we groan under its intolerable woightiness. War against conscience, for instead of being justified by virtue of a union with God, and having " peace with him through our Lord Jesus Christ," Rom. v. 1, and feeling that heaven begun, "joy imapcakablo and f'ull of glory." 1 Pet. i. 8, by following our passions we become a prey to distracting fear, troubles >vithout end, cutting remorse, and awful earn- ests of eternal misery. War on a dying bed, for whoreas by being united to God our deatii-bcd would have be- come a field of triumph, wiiere the Prince of life, the Conqueror of deatii would have made us share his victory, by abandoning ourselves to our pa.-ssions, we see nothing in a - selves like brute beasts to the most guilty pas- siojis, lay all the blame on the misfortune of their constitution. They say their will has no ])art in their excesses — they cannot change their constitution — and God cannot justly blame them for irregularities, which proceeded from the natural union of the soul with the body. Indeed they prove by their talk, that they would be very sorry not to have a consti- tution to serve for an apology for sin, and to cover the licentiousness of casting off an obli- gation, which the law of God, according to them, requires of none but such as have re- ceived from nature the power of discharging it. If these maxims be admitted, what be- comes of the morality of Jesus Christ' What become of the commands concerning mortifi- cation and repentance.' But people who talk thus, intend less to correct their faults than to palliate tiicin; and this discourse is intended only for such as are willing to apply means to free tiiemselves from the dominion of irregu- lar passions. Certainly the best advice that can be given to a man whose constitution inclines him to sin, is, that he avoid opportunities, and flee from such objects as affect and disconcert him. It does not depend on you to be unconcerned in sight of an object fatal to your innocence: but it does depend on you to keep out of the way of seeing it. It does not depend on you to be animated at the sight of a gaming table: but it does depend on you to avoid such whim- sical places, where sharping goes for merit. Let us not be presumptuous. Let us make diffidence a principle of virtue. Let us remem- ber St. Peter, he was fired with zeal, he thought every thing possible to his love, his presump- tion was the cause of his fall, and many by following his example have yielded to tempta- tion, and have found the truth of an apocry- phal maxim, " he that loveth danger shall per- ish therein," Eccles. iii. 26. Af\er all, that virtue which owes its firm- ness only to the want of an opportunity for vice is very feeble, and it argues very little at- tainment only to be able to resist our passions in the absence of temptation. I recollect a maxim of St. Paul, " I wrote unto you not to company with fornicators," but I did not mean that you should have no conversation " with fornicators of this world, for then must ye needs go out of the world," 1 Cor. v. 9, 10. Literally, to avoid all objects dangerous to our passions, " we must go out of the world." Are there no remedies adapted to the necessity we are under of living among mankind.' Is there no such thing as correcting, with the as- sistance of grace, the irregularities of our con- However, though the irregularity of the stitution, and freeing ourselves from its domin- senses diminislies the atrociousness of the crime, I ion, so that we may be able, if not to seek our 78 THE PASSIONS. [Ser. LXII. temptations for the sake of the glory of subdu- ing them, at least to resist them, uiid not sulVer them to concjuer us, wiien in spite of ail our caution they will attack us? Three remedies are neoessary to our success in this [lainful un- dertaking; to suspend acts — to Hee idleness — to mortify sense. We must sus}}end acts. Let us form a just idea of temperament or constitution. It con- sists in one of these two things, or in hoth to- gether; in a disposition of organs in the nature of animal spirits. For example, a man is an- gry when the organs which serve that jjassion, are more accessible than others, and when his animal spirits are easily heated. Hence it ne- cessarily follows, that two things nmst he done to correct constitutional anger; the one, the disposition of the organs must be changed; and the other, the nature of the s[)iritsmust he changed, so that on the one hand, the spirits no longer finding these organs disposed to give them passage, and on the other hand the spi- rits having lost a facility of taking fire, there will be within the man none of the revolutions of sense, which he could not resist when they were excited. A suspension of acts changes the disposition of the organs. The more the spirits enter into* these organs, the more easy is the access, and the propensity insurmountable; the more acts of anger there are, the more incorrigible will anger become; because the more acts of anger there are, the more accessible will the organs of anger be, so that the animal s])irits will na- turally fall there by their own motion. The spirits then must be restrained. The bias they have to the ways to which they have been habi- tuated by the practice of sin mu.st be turned, and we must always remember a truth often inculcated, that is, that the more acts of sin we commit the more difficult to correct will habits of sin become; but that when by taking i)ains with ourselves, we have turned the course of the spirits, they will take diH'erent ways, and this is done by suspending the acts. It is not impossible to change even the na- ture of our animal spirits. This is done by suspending what contributed to nourish them in a state of disorder. What contributes to the nature of spirits? Diet, exercise, air, the whole course of life we live. It is very diffi- cult in a discourse like this, to give a full cata- logue of remedies proper to regulate the ani- mal spirits and the humours of the body. I be- lieve it would be dangerous to many people. Some men are so made, that rellections too ac- curate on this article would he more likely to increa.se their vires than to diminish them. However, there is not one person willing to turn his attention to tiiis suliject who is not able to become a [)reacher to himself. L(;t a man enter into himself, lot him survey the his- tory of his excesses, let him examine all cir- cumsUmces, let liitn recollect what passed within him on such and such occasions, let him closely consider wliat moved and agitated him, and he will learn more by sucira meditation, than all sermons and casuistical books can teach him. The second remedy is to avoid idleness. What is idleness? It is that situation of soul, in which no ollbrt is made to direct the course of the spirits this way rather than that. What nmst happen then? AVe have supposed, that some organs of a man constitutionally irregu- lar are more accessible than others. When we are idle, and make no eflbrts to direct the ani- mal Kjjirits, they naturally take the easiest way, and conseijuently direct their own course to those organs which j)a.ssion has made easy of access. To avoid this disorder, we must bo employed, and always employed. This rule is neither impracticable, nor ditHcult. We do not mean, that the soul should be always on the stretch in meditation or j)rayer. An inno- cent recreation, an ca.sy conversation, agreea- ble exercise, may have each its i)lace in occu- pations of this kind. For these rea.sons we applaud those, who make such maxims parts of the education of youth, as either to teach them an art, or employ them in some bodily exercise. Not that we pro])ose this maxim as it is received in some families, where they think all the merit of a young gentleman consists in hunting, riding, or some exertise of that kind; and that of a young lady, in distinguishing her- self in dancing, music, or needle-work. We mean, that these employments siiould be sub- ordinate to others more serious, and more wor- thy of an inmiortal soul, that they should serve only for relaxation, so that by thus tak- ing i)art in the innocent pleasures of the world, we may be better prepared to avoid Uie guilty pursuits of it. The third remedy is mortiftcation of the setises, a remedy which St. Paul always used, " I keep under my body, and bring it into suiijection," 1 ('or. ix. 2". Few people havesuch soinid notions. Some casuists have stretched the subject be- yond its due bounds so as to establish this prin- ciple, that sinful man can enjoy no pleasure without a crime, because sin having been his (leligiit, j)ain ought to be for ever his lot. This ]irinciple m.ay perhaps be probably consi- dered in regard to unregeneratc men: but it cannot be admitted in regard to true Chris- tians. Accordingly, we place among those who have unsound notions of mortification, all such as make it consist in vain practices, use- less in themselves, and having no relation to tiie i)rincipal design of religion, " bodily exer- cises profiting little:" they are " connnand- ments of men," in the language of Scrijiture. Hut if some having entertained extravagant notions of mortification, others have restrained the subject too nmch. Under pretence that the religion of .lesus Christ is spiritual, they have neglected the study and practice of evan- gelical morality: but we have heard the ex- ample of St. I'aul, and it is our duty to imi- tate it. We nuist " keej) under the body," and "bring it into subjection," tlie senses nmst be iiridled by violence, innocent tilings nmst of- ten bo refused them, in order to obtain the mastery when they require unlawful tilings; we must fast, we nmst avoid ease, b(!causo it tends to eHeminacy. All this is diffi(uilt, 1 grant: but if the undertaking he hazardous, success will he ylorious.* Thirty, forty years, employed in relLirming an irregular constitu- tion, ought not to he regretted. Wiiat a glory to have subdued the senses! What a glory * See » beautitul piis!i;igc of I'lulo in liis ciglitli book Dc Icgibus. Seii. LXIL] THE PASSIONS. 79 to have restored the soul to ita primitive supe- I let us abstain from pleasures to preclude tho riority, to have crucified the "hody of sin," to jwssiliihty ofrciiicinheriiiff thuiii; let retirement, lead it in Iriuinpii, and to destroy, tiiat is to and, ifit beitracticaldc, i)er))elLml jtrivacy, from annikilalc il, according to an expression of Scriptnrr!, and so to a|)i)r()ach those pure spirits, in whom the motions of matter can make no alteration! Tlie disorders produced by tiie passions in the imajjination, and against wliicii also we ouglil to luniish you with some remedies, are lilte tiiose comphcated disorders, wiiicii re(iuire opposite remedies, because they are the etiect of opposite causes, so that tiic means cm])loyed to diminisii one part not mdVetpicnlly in(Tease another. It should seem at first, tiiat the iiest remedy which can lie applied to disorders in- troduced jjy tile i)assions into tiie imagination, is well to consider the naturi! of the objects of the passions, and Ihoroujrldy to know tlio world: and yet on tiie other liand, it may truly he said, that tiie most certain way of succeeding would bo to know notiiing at all about the world. If you know the |)lcasurcs of the world, if you know by e.vperience the pleasure of" gratifying a passion, you will fall into the misfortune we wish you to avoid; you will receive bad iin|)res- sions; you will acquire dangerous recollections, and a seducing memory will he a new occasion of sin: but if you do not know the pleasures of the world, you will be likely to form ideas too flattering of it, you will create images more beautiful than the originals themselves, and by the immense value you set upon the victim, when you are just going to otier it u[> perhaps you will retreat, and not make the sacrifice. Hence we often see persons whom the super- stition or avarice of their families has in child- hood confined in a nunnery (suppose it were allowable in other cases, yet in this case done prematurely,) I say, these persons not knowing the world, wish for its ])leasures with more ar- dour than if they had actually experienced them. So they who have never been in com- pany with the great, generally imagine that their society is full of cliarms, that all is plea- sure in their company, and that a circle of rich and fasliionable people sitting in an elegant apartment is far more livdy and anim:vted than one composed of people of inferior rank, and middling fortune, f lence also it is, that they, who, aller having lived a dissipated life, have the rare happiness of renouncing it, do so with more sincerity than others, wlio never knew the vanity of sucii a life by experience. So very dill'erent are the remedies for disorders of the imagination. But as in complicated disorders, to which we have compared them, a wise physician chiefly attends to the most dangerous complaint, and distributes his remedies so as to counteract those which are less fatal, we will observe the same method on this occasion. Doubtless the most dangerous way to obtain a contempt for the pleasures of the world, is to get an experi- mental knowledge of tliem, in order to detach ourselves more easily from tiiem by the tho- rougli sense we have of their vanity. We ba- the moment we entc^r into the world to the day we (piit it, save us from all bad imjiressions, so that wo may never know the effects which worldly objects would produce in our passions. This method, sure and etlectual, is useless and im|)racticable in regard to such as have received bad impressions on their imagination. People of this character ought to iiursiie the second method we mentioned, that is to ]>rotit by their losses, and derive wisdom from liieir errors. Wlicn you recollect sin, you may remember the folly and pain of it. Let the courtier whose imagination is yet full of the vain glory of a sph^ndid court, remember the intrigues he has known there, the craft, the injustice, tho treachery, the dark and dismal plans that are formed and executed there. 1 would advise such a man, when his pas- sions solicit him to sin, to call in the aid of some other idea to strike aneople commonly judge of merit by fortime, and as fortune and banishment sel- dom go together, popular prejudice seldom runs liigli in favour of exiles. .Jealousy views them with a suspicious eye, malice imputes crimes to them, injustice accuses them for public calami- tics we will not enlarge. Letan inviolable fidelity to the state, an unsuspected love to government, an uiueserved conformity Skr. LXII.] THE PASSIONS. 81 to religion, silence accusation, and compel, so to speait, an esteem that is not natural and free. Moreover, religious exiles have given upa great deal for conscience, and tliey must choose either to lose the reward of their former labours, or to persevere. A man who 1ms only taken a fv.w easy steps in religion, if he let loose his passions, may bo supposed rational in lliis, his life is all thrones and crowns which God prepares. His riches are not of this world, they depend on trea.siires in heaven, where " thieves do not break tlirough and steal," Matt. vi. 20. It is allowable for a man educated in these great principles, but whose infirmity prevents his al- ways thinking on them; it is indeed allowable for a man, wJio cannot always bend his mind of a piece. He considers present interestas the j to reflection, meditation, and elevation above supreme good, and he employs himself wholly | the world; it is indeed allowable for such a in advancing his present interest, lie lays down I man sometimes to unbend his mind, to amuse a principle, he initrs a consequence, and he I himself with cultivating a tulip, or embellish- makes sin produce all possible advantage. An j ing his head with a crown: but that this tulip, abominable principle certainly, but a uniform train of principle and consef|ueiire; a fatal ad- vantage in a future state, but a real advantage in the present: but such a stranger as we have described, a man banished his country for reli- gion, if he continues to gratify fleshly liassions, is a contradictory creature, a sort of idiot, who is at one and the same time a martyr to vice and a martyr to virtue. He has the fatal secret of rendering both time and eternity wretched, and anning against himself heaven and earth, God and Satan, paradise and hell. On the one hand, for the sake of religion he quits every thing dear, and renounces the pleasure of his native soil, the society of his friends, family connexions, and every prospect of preferment and fortune; thus he is a martyr for virtue, by this he renders the present life inconvenient, and arms against himself the world, Satan, and hell. On the other hand, he stabs the practical part of religion, violates all the sacred laws of austerity, retirement, humility, patience, and love, all which religion most earnestly recom- mends; by so doing he becomes a martyr for sin, renders futurity miserable, and arms against himself God, heaven, and eternity. The same God who forbade superstition and idolatry, en- joined all the virtues we have enumerated, and prohibited every opposite vice. If men be de- termined to be damned, better go the broad than the narrow way. Who but a madman would attempt to go to hell by encountering the difficulties that lie in tlie way to heaven! 2. The believers to whom Peter wrote were strangers as Christians, and therefore strangers because believers. What is the fundamental maxim of the Christian religion? Jesus Christ told Pilate, " My kingdom is not of this world," John xviii. 36. This is the maxim of a Chris- tian, the first great leading principle, " his kingdom is not of this world;" his happiness and misery, his elevation and depression, de- pend on nothing in this world. The first principle is the ground of the apos- tle's exhortation. The passions destroy this maxim by supposing the world capable of making us happy or miserable. Revenge sup- poses our honour to depend on the world, on the opinion of those idiots who have determin- ed that a man of honour ought to revenge an affront. Ambition supposes our elevation to de])end pn the world, that is, on the dignities which ambitious men idolize. Avarice sup- poses our riches depend on this world, on gold, silver, and estates. These are not the ideas of a Christian. His honour is not of this world, it depends on the ideas of God, who is a just dispenser r.f glory. His elevation is not of this world, it depends on Vol. II.— 11 that this crown, should seriously occupy such a man; that they should take up the principal attention of a Christian, who has such refined ideas and such glorious hopes, this, this is en- tirely incompatible. 3. In fine, wo arc strangers and pilgrims by necessity of nature as mortal men. If this life were eternal, it would bo a question whether it were more advantageous for man to gratify his passions than to subdue them; whether the tranquillity, the equanimity, the calm of a man perfectly free, and entirely master of him- self, would not be preferable to the troubles, conflicts, and turbulence, of a man in bondage to his passions. Passing this question, we will grant, that were this life eternal, prudence and self-love, well understood, would require some indulgence of passion. In this case there would be an immense distance between the rich and the poor, and riches should be ac- quired; there would be an immense distance between the higli and the low, and elevation should be sought; there would be an immense distance between him who mortified his senses, and him who gratified them, and sensual plea- sures would be requisite. But death, death renders all these things alike; at least, it makes so little difference be- tween the one and the other, that it is hardly discernible. The most sensible motive there- fore to abate the passions, is death. The tomb is the best course of morality. Study avarice in the coffin of a miser; this is the man who accumulated heap upon heap, riches upon riches, see a few boards enclose him, and a few square inches of earth contain him. Study ambition in the grave of tliat enterprising man; see his noble designs, his extensive pro- jects, his boundless expedients are all shatter- ed and sunk in this fatal gulf of human pro- jects. Approach the tomb of the proud man, and there investigate pride; see the mouth that pronounced lofty expressions, condemned to eternal silence, the j)iercing eyes that con- vulsed the world with fear, covered with a midnight bloom, the formidable arm, that dis- tributed the destinies of mankind, without mo- tion and life. Go to the tomb of the noble- man, and there study quality; behold his magnificent titles, his royal ancestors, his flat- tering inscriptions, his learned genealogies, are all gone, or going to be lost with himself in the same dust. Study voluptuousness at the grave of the voluptuous; see, his senses are destroyed, his organs broken to pieces, his bones scattered at the grave's mouth, and the whole temple of sensual pleasure subverted from its foundations. Hero we finish this discourse. There is a 82 TRANSIENT DEVOTION. [Ser. Lxm. great difference between this and other sub- jectn of discussion. When we trciil of a point of doctrine, it is sufficient tlmtyou hear it, and remeniher the consequences drawn from it. When we explain a ditiicult te.xt, it is eiiouffli that you understand it and recollect it. When we press home a particular duty of morality, it is sufficient that you apply it to tlio particular circumstance to which it helonirs. But what regards the passions is of univer- sal and perpetual use. \Ve always carry the principles of th(;se passions within us, and we shouhi always have assistance at hand to sub- due them. Always surrounded with objects of our passions, wo should always be «guarded against them. AVe should remember these things, when we see tlie benefits of fortune, to free ourselves from an immoderate atlaclmient to them; before human grandeur to despise it; before sensual objects to subdue them; be- fore our enemy, to forgive him; before friends, children, and families, to hold ourselves disen- gaged from them. We should always exam- ine in what part of ourselves the passions hold their throne, whether in the mind, the senses, or the imagination, or the heart. We should always examine whether they have depraved the heart, defiled the imagination, perverted the senses, or blinded the mind. We should ever remember, that we are strangers ujion earth, that to this our condition calls us, our religion invites us, and our nature compels us. But alas! It is this, it is this general influ- ence, which these exhortations ought to have over our lives, that makes us fear we have ad- dressed them to you in vain. When we treat of a point of doctrine, we may persuade our- selves it has been understood. When we ex- plain a difficult te.xt, we flatter ourselves we have thrown some light upon it. When we urge a moral duty, we hope the next occasion will bring it to your memory: and yet how often have we deceived ourselves on these arti- cles! How often have our hopes been vain! How otlen have you sent us empty away, even though we demanded so little! What will be done to-day? Who that knows a little of mankind, can flatter himself that a disi-ourse intended, in regard to a great number, to change all, to refbrn» all, to renew all, will be directed to its true design! But, O.God, there yet remains one resource, it is thy grace, it is thine aid, grace that we have a thousand times turned into lascivious- neas, and which we have a thousand times re- jected; yet after all assisting grace, which we most humbly venture to implore. When we approach the enemy, wo earnestly beseech thee, " teach ()ur hands to war, and our fingers to fight!" When we did attack a town, we fervently besouglit thee to render it accessible to us! Our prayers entered heaven, our ene- mies fled before us, thou didst bring us into the strong city, and didst lead us into Edom, I'e. Ix. 9. The walls of many a Jericho fell at the sound of our trinnjicts, at tlie sight of thine ark, and the ai)proach of thy priest: but the old man is an enemy f;ir more formidable than tlie best disciplined arniius, and it is harder to conquer, the passions than to beat down the walls of a city! () help us to subdue this old man, as thou hast assisted ua to ovcrcumo other enemies! Enable us to triunijih over our passions as thou hast enabled us to succeed in levelling the walls of a city! Stretch out thy holy arm in our favour, in this churcli, as in the field of battle! So be the protector botii of tlie state and the church, crown our efforts with such success, that we may offer the most noble songs of praise to thy glory. Amen. SERMON LXIIL* TRANSIENT DEVOTIONS. HosE.4 vi. 4. Ephi-aim, what shall I do unto thte? Judah, what shall 1 do itnlo thee? Fur your goodness is as a morning cloud, and as the early dew it gocth away. TiiE church has seldom seen happier days than those described in the nineteenth chapter of E.xodus. God had never diffused his bene- dictions on a people in a richer abundance. Never had a people gratitude more lively, piety more fervent. The Red Sea had been passed, Pharaoh and his insolent court were buried in the waves, access to the land of pro- mise was opened, Moses had been admitted on the holy mountain to derive felicity from God the source, and sent to distribute it amongst his countrymen; to these choice fa- vours promi.ses of new and greater blessings were yet added, and God said, "ye have seen what I did unto the Egyptians, and how I bare you on eagles' wings, and brought you unto myself. Now therefore, if ye will obey my voice indeed, and keep iny covenant, then ye shall be a peculiar treasure unto me, above all people, although the earth be mine," ver. 4, 5. The people were deeply atlected with this collection of miracles. Each individual entered into the same views, and seemed ani- mated with the same passion, all hearts were united, and one voice expressed the sense of all the tribes of Israel, " All that the Lord • hath sjjoken we will do," ver. 8. But this devotion had one great defect, it lasted only forty days. In forty days the deliverance out of Egypt, the catastrojilie of Fharoah, the pas- sage through the sea, the articles of the cove- nant; ill forty days vows, promises, oaths, all were effaced from the heart and forgotten. Moses was absent, the lightning did not glitter, the thunder claps did not roar, and the Jews " made a calf in Horeb, worshipped that mol- ten image, and changed their glorious God into the similitude of an ox that ealetli grass," I's. cxi. 19, :.'0. It was this that drew upon Moses this cutting reproof from God, Go, said he to Moses, to that Moses always fervent for the salvation of his pcojilc, always ready to plead for them, "go, get thee down, for thy people, which thou broughtest out of the 'land of Kgypt, have corrupted themselves. They have (piickly turned aside out of the way which I commanded them," E.\od. xxxii. 1, 8. They ■ Prcaclied Ihr firsl Lord'» day olllje year 1710. Tfic 1 Lurd'a Bumper diijf. Ser. LXIII.] TRANSIENT DEVOTIONS. 83 have quickly turned aside, tnia is the great de- fect of their devotion, tliis is that whicl» ren- ders all devotion incomplete. Do you know this portrait, my brethren? Has this history nothint; in it like yours? Arc any days more solenui than such as we observe in our present circum.stances? Did (iod ever draw near to us with more favours than he has this day? Did we ever approach him with more fervour? On the one hand, tiic bpiriiminjf of another year recalls to mind the seriuus ai\d alarming discourses, which the ministers of .Ic- sus Christ addressed to us on tiic hist anniver- sary, the many strokes given, to whom? To the enemies of God? Alas! To the stiile and the church! Many cut oil" in the field of battle, many others carried away in tiie ordinary and inevitable course of tbinirs, man)' perils, in one word, with which we were threatened, but which thy mercy, O God, has freed us from! On the otlier hand this sacred table, these aucrust sym- bols, these earnests of our eternal felicity, all these objects, do tliey not render this day one of the most singular in our lives? If heaven has tims heard the earth (wo arc happy to acknowledge it, my brethren, and we eagerly embrace this opportunity of pui)lisliing your praise) the earth has heard the lieaven. To judge by a))pearance, you have answered our wishes, and exceeded our hopes. You were exhorted to prepare for the Lord's supper, you did prepare for it. You were called to public worship, you came. You were exhort- ed to attend to the word of God, you did at- tend to it. You were required to form resolu- tions of a holy lif(% you made these resolutions. It seemed, while we saw you come with united ardour this morning to the table of .lesus Christ, it seemed as if we heard you say, with the. Is- raelites of old, " All that the Lord hath spo- ken we will do." But we declare, my brethren, a cloud comes over the bright scene of tiiis solemnity. I fear, shall I say the forty? alas, 1 fear the four suc- ceeding days! These doors will be shut, this table will be removed, the voice of the servîints of God will cea.'^o to sound in your ears, and I fear the Lord will say of you, " they have quickly turned aside out of the way which I commanded them." Let lis not content ourselves with foreseeing this evil, let us endeavour to prevent it. This is the design of the present discourse, in which we will treat of transient devotions. To you, in the name of God, wc address the words, the tender words, which will occasion more reflec- tions than they may seem at first to do, but which no reflections can exhaust, " O Ephraim, what shall I do unto tiiec? O .ludah, what shall I do \mto thee? For your goodness is as a morning cloud, and as the early dew it goeth away." . O Almighty God! We humbly beseech thee, enable us in the offerings we make to thee to resemble thee in the favours which thou be- stowest upon us! Thy gifts to us arc icilhout reptnta)ice, thy covenant with us contains this clause, " the mountains shall depart, and the hills be removed, but my kindness shall not depart from thee, neitiier shall the covenant of my peace be removed. 1 have sworn that I will not be wroth with thee!" O that our of- ferings to thee may be without repentance! O that we may be able to reply, " the mountains shall depart, and the hills be removed, hid my fidilily shall never depart from thee, neither shall the dedication vhirh I hare made nf myself tn thee, ever bo removed! I have sworn, and I will perform it, that I will keep thy righteous judgments." Amen. " O I'.phraini, what shall I do >mto thee? O .ludali, what shall 1 do unto thee?" l-'.phraim, .liireters, who are often the echoes of one an- other, describe the ministry of Ilosea as direct- ed only to the kingdom of Israel, whereas it is clear by the text, and by several other pas- sages, that it was addressed both to Israel and Judah. But of all unlucky conjectures, I question whether there be one more so than that of some divines, who think our text prophetical. Jn tlieir opinion the gnndness mentioned in the text is the mercy of God displayed in the gospel. The drw signifies .Tcsus Christ. The morning, " thy goodness is like the morning dew," intends the covenant of grace. As every one proposes his opinion under some appear- ance of evidence, it is said in favour of this, that the expression, thy s:nodnrs!<, does not sig- nify the goodness of the people, but that which is manifested to the people, and in proof of this the idiom of the Hebrew tongue is alleg- ed, with divers pas-sages th;it justify this tour of expression, as this, " my people are bent to their backsliding," that is to backsliding from me. The dew, say they, signifies the Messialt, for he is promised under tiiat emblem in many passages of Scripture. They add farther, the mominj:: signifies the new dispensation of the gospel, which is often announced under this idea by the prophets, and all this text, " thy goodness is as the early dew which goeth away," opens a wonderful contrast between the law and the gospel. The law was like a storm of hail destroying the fruits of the earth, but the gospel is a dew that makes every thing fruitful." The law was a dark night, but the gospel was a fine day; " thy goodness is like the morning dew which goeth away," that is to say, which c«meth. Here are many good truths out of place. Thy e;nodness may signify, for any thing we know, goodness e.xercised to- wards thee; the Messiah is represented as a deic; the gospel economy is promised under the emblem of the mormnp;; all this is true, but all this is not the sense of the text. The word goodness, which is the first mistake of the ex- position just now given, may be understood of piety in general. It has that meaning in many passages of Scripture. The substantive derived from it is usually put for pious persons, and 84 TRANSIENT DEVOTIONS. [See. LXm. accordinfr to a celebrated critic, it is from the word hasidiin, the pious, that the word Essenes is derived, a name given to the '.vholo sect among tlio Jews, because they professed a more eminent piety ttian others. A " good- ness like the morning dew" is a seeming piety, " wliich goeth away," that is of a short dura- tion, and ail these words, "O Ephraim, what shall I do unto thee? O Judah, what shall I do unto thee? for your goodness is as a morn- ing cloud, and as the early dew it goelii away," are a reproof from God to his people for the unsteadiness of their devotions. In this light we will consider the text, and show you first the nature — and secondly the unprofitableness of transient devotions. I. Let us first inquire the nature of tlie piety in question. \Vhat is this goodiuss or piety, that " is as a morning cloud, and goeth away as the early dew.'" We do not understand by this piety either those deceitful appearances of hypocrites, who conceal tlieir profane and irre- ligious hearts under the cover of ardour and religion, or the disposition of those Christians, who fall through their own frailty from high degrees of pious zeal, and experience emotions of sin after they have felt exercises of grace. The devotion we mean to describe goes farther than the first: but it does not go so far as the last. The transient devotion, of which we speak, is not hypocrisy. Hypocrisy cannot suspend the strokes of divine justice one single moment, and it is more likely to inflame than to extin- guish the righteous indignation of God. It is not to hypocrites that God addresses this ten- der language, " O Ephraim, what shall I do unto thee.' O Judah, what shall I do unto thee.'" Their sentence is declared, their pun- ishment is ready. " Ye hypocrites, well did Esaias prophecy of you, saying, this people draweth nigh unto me with their mouth, and honoureth me with tlieir lips, but tlieir heart is far from me. Wo unto you, scribes and Phari- sees, hypocrites. Tlie portion of hypocrites shall be weeping and gnashing of teeth," Matt. XV. 7; xxiii. 31, and xxiv. 51. Nor is the piety we mean to describe that of the weak and revolting believer. How im- perfect soever this piety may be, yet it is real. It is certainly a very mortifying consideration to a believer that he should be at any time hemmed in, confined, and clogged, in his de- votional exercises. In some golden days of his life, forgetting tlie world, and wholly employ- ed about heavenly things, how happy was he, how delicious his enjoyments, when he sur- mounted sense and sin, ascended to God like Moses formerly on the holy mount, and there conversed with his heavenly Father concern- ing religion, salvation, and eternity! O how richly did lie llieii think himself indemnified for tho loss of time in worldly pursuits by pour- ing his complaints into the bosom of God, by opening all his heart, by saying to him will» iiLspired men, " Lord, thou knowest that I love thee! it is good lor me to draw near to (îod! My soul is satisfied as with marrow and fatness, and my mouth shall praise thee with joyful lips!" I say, it is a very mortifying thing to him, after such elevations in the enjoyment of such magnificent objects, to be obliged through the frailty of his nature to go down again into the world, and to employ himself about what' A suit of clothes, a menial servant, a nothing! Above all, it is very mortifying to him, after he has tasted pleasure so pure, to feel himself disposed to sin! But after all, this piety, though very imperfect, is genuine and true. It should humble us, but it should not destroy us, and we should bo animated with a spirit too rigid, were wo to confound this piety with that, which " is as the morning cloud, tind as the early dew that goeth away." The piety we si)eak of lies between these two dispositions. As I said before, it dges not go so far in religion as the second, but it docs go beyond the first. It is sincere, in that it is superior to hypocrisy; but it is unfruitful, and in that respect it is inferior to the piety of the weak and revolting Christian. It is suflicient to discover sin, but not to correct it; suflicient to produce sincere resolutions, but not to keep tliem: it softens the heart, but it does not re- new it; it excites grief, but it does not eradi- cate evil dispositions. It is a piety of times, opportunities, and circumstances, diversified a thousand ways, the effect of innumerable causes, and, to be more particular, it usually ows its origin to public calamities, or to solemn festivals, or to the approach of death: but it expires as soon as the causes are removed. 1 . By piety, " like the early dew that goeth away," we mean that which is usually excited by public calamilies. When a state prospers, when its commerce flourishes, when its armies are victorious, it acquires weight and conse- quence in the world. Prosperity is usually productive of crimes. Conscience falls asleep during a tumult of passions, as depravity continues security increases, the patience of God becomes weary, and he punishes either by taking away prosperity, or by threatening to take it away. Tlie terrible messengers of di- vine justice open their commission. The winds which he makes his angels, begin to utter their voices: flames of fire, constituted his ministers, display their frightful light. Pestilence, war, famine, executioners of the decrees of heaven, prepare to discharge their dreadful office. One messenger called death, and another called hell, receive their bloody commission, " to kill with sword, and with hunger, and with death, the fourth part of the earth," Rev. vi. 8. Each individual sees his own doom in the public decree. " Capernaum exalted to heaven is going to be thrust down to hell," Luke x. 15. .Jonah walks about Nineveh, and makes the walks echo with this alarming proclamation, " Yet forty days and Nineveh sliall be over- thrown. Yet forty days and Nineveh shall be overthrown," chap. iii. 4. Or, to lay aside borrowed names, and to make our portrait like tlie original, your ministers free from their natural timidity or indolence, despising those petty tyrants, or shall I rather say those diminu- tive insects, who amidst a free people would have us the only slaves; who while all kinds of vices have free course would have the word of Hod bound, and would reduce the exercise of the reform ministry to a state more mean and pusillanimous than that of court bishops, or the chaplains of kings; I say, your ministers have made you hear their voice, they have Ser. LXIII.] TRANSIENT DEVOTIONS. 85 gone back to your ori^n, and laid before you the cruel edicts, the sanguinary proscriptions, the barbarous executions, the heaps of mangled carcasses, whicli were, if I may so ppeak, tiic first foundations of this republic. From what you were tlien they have proceeded to what you are now; tiioy have represented to you the end proposed by the Supreme Heing in distin- guishing you by so many merciful advantages; they have told you it was to engage you to in- form idolatrous nations of tlie truth, to nourish and favour it in cruel and persecuting countries, to support it at home, and so to cast out pro- fanencss, infidelity, and atheism. They have repeatedly urged you to come to a settlement of accounts on these subjects, and they have delivered in against you sucli au interrogatory as this; are the " hands winch hang down, and the feeble knees lifted up?" Does superstition cover the trutii in any places of your govern- ment' Is the affliction of Joseph neglected? Does irreligion insolently lift its head among you, and is it protected by such as are bound to suppress it' They have shown you tho Deity ready to punish an obstinate perseverance in sin, and, if you will forgive the expression, they have preached, illuminated by ligiitning, and their exhortations have been enforced by thunder. Then every one was struck, all hearts were united, every one ran to tiie " breach, to turn away the wrath of God, lest he should destroy us all," Ps. cvi. 23. The magistrate came down from his tribunal, the merchant quitted his commerce, the mechanic laid aside his work, yea the very libertine suspended his pleasures; vows, prayers, solemn protestations, tears, relentings, promises, sincere promises, nothing was wanting to your devotions. Then the angels rejoiced, a compassionate God smiled, the corn revived, war was hushed, and was dying away; but along with the first tide of prosperity came rolling back the former de- pravity, the same indifference to truth, the same negligence of religion, the same infidelity, the same profanity. This is the first kind of that piety, which is " as the early dew that goeth away." Let us study ourselves in the image of the Jews described in the context. " Come," say they, when the prophet had pre- dicted the Babylonish captivity to Judah, and the carrying away into Assyria to the ten tribes, " come,- and let us return unto the Lord, for he hath torn, and he will heal us, he hath smitten, and he will bind us up. After two or three days he will revive us, and we shall live in his sight," ver. 12. "After they had rest, they did evil again before thee" (these are the words of Nehemiah,) " tiierefore thou didst leave them in the hand of their enemies. When they returned, and cried unto thee, thou heard- est them from heaven, and many times didst thou deliver them, according to thy mercies. O Ephraim, what shall I do unto tliee? O Ju- dah, what shall I do unto thee? for your good- ness is as the morning cloud, and as the early dew it goeth away," chap. ix. 28. 2. In a second class of transient devotions we place that which religious solemnities pro- duce. Providence always watching for our salvation, has established in the church not only an ordinary ministry to cultivate our piety, but some extraordinary periods proper to in- vigorate and bring it to maturity, thus propor- tioning itself to our frailty. How considerable soever the truths of religion are, it is certain they lijse their importance by our hearing tlieui always proposed in the same circum- stances, and the same points of light. There arc some days which put on I know not what of the extraordinary, and put in motion, so to spi.'ak, ti)e first great powers of religion. To tills our festivals are directed, and tliis is one of the principal uses of tiio Lord's Supper. Were this ordinance not aj)pointed with tiiis view as some affirm, had not God annexed some |)eculiar benediction to it, yet it would be a weak pretence to keep from the Lord's table, and tho use generally granted would always be a suflicient reason to induce those to frequent it who liave their salvation at heart. But however this may be, it is certain that such days occasion the sort of devotion we are de- scribing, and usually produce a piety " like the morning cloud, and the early dew that goeth away." We do not intend here to describe a kind of Christians too odious to be put even into this vicious cla.ss. For, my brethren, we have a very singular sort of people among us, who, though they live in the practice of all worldly licentiousness, will frequent the Lord's table, in spite of all the pains we take to show their unworthiness, and to keep them away. They will pass tlirough a kind of preparation, and for this purpose they retrench a little portion of time from their course of licentiousness, set out, however, with so much accurate calcula- tion that it is easy to see they consider devotion more in the light of a disagreeable task than in that of a holy enjoyment. They suspend their habits of sin the whole day before, and all the live long day after the communion. In tliis interval they receive the Lord's Supper, all the while determining to return to their old course of life. What devotion! in which the soul burns with love to worldly pleasure, while it affects to play off the treacherous part of love to religion and God! A devotion that disputes with Jesus Christ a right to three days, gives them up with regret and constraint, and keeps all along murmuring at the genius of a reli- gion, which puts the poor insulted soul on the rack, and forces it to live three whole days without gaming and debauchery! A devotion deep in the plot of Judas to betray the Saviour at his own table! These people need not be characterized. We never administer the Lord's Supper without protesting against them; we never say any tiling to them but " Wo, wo be to you;" and though, through a discipline of too much lenity, they escape excommunication, yet never can they escape the anathemas, which God in his word denounces against unworthy communicants. We mean here people of another character. It is he among Christians who does not live in the practice of all sins, but who does reserve some, and some of those which, says the gospel, they who commit "shall not inherit the king- dom of God," 1 Cor. vi. 10. This man does not with a brutal madness commit such crimes as harden him beyond reflection and remorse, but he has a sincere desire to a certain degree to correct himself. He takes time enough to 86 TRANSIENT DEVOTIONS. [Ser. LXIII. prepare himself for the Lord's Supper, and then he examines his conscience, meditates on the great truths of rehgion, tlie justice of its laws, tlic lioliness of every part, and the rich present which God bestowed on tlie cliurch in the person of his own Son. He is affected with the.fe objects, lie applies these truths to himself, he promises God to reform: but, in a few days after the comnnmion, he not only falls into one or t\vo vicious actions, but he gives himself up to a vicious habit, and per- sists in it till the next commimion, when he goes over again the same exces.'jes of devotion, which end again in the same vices, and so his whole life is a continual round of sin and re- pentance, repentance and sin. This is a second sort of people whose devotions are transient. 3. But, of all devotions of this kind, that which needs describing the most, because it comes nearest to true piety, and is most likely to be confounded with it, is that which is ex- cited by the " fear of death," and which van- ishes as soon as the fear subsides. The most emphatical, the most urgent, and the most pathetical of all preachers is death. What can be said in this pulpit which death does not say with tenfold force? What truth can we explain, which death does not explain with more evidence? Do we treat of the vanity of the world? So does death; but with much more power. The impenetrable veils which it throws over all terrestrial objects, the midnight darkness in which it involves them, the irrevo- cable orders it gives us to depart, the insur- mountable power it employs to tear us away, represent the vanity of the world better than the most pathetical sermons. Do we speak of the horrors of sin? Death treats of tliis siib- ject more fully and forcibly than we; tlie pains it brings, the marks it makes upon us while we are dying, the grave, to which it turns our eyes as our habitation after death, represent the horror of sin more than the most affecting discourses. Do we speak of the value of di^ vine mercy? Death excels in setting this forth too; hell opening under us, executioners of di- vine vengeance ranging themselves round our bed, the sharp instruments held over us, repre- sent the mercy of God more fully than the most touching discourses. No sermons like these! When then a sickness supposed to be mortal attacks a man, who has knowledge and sentiment enough to render him accessible to motives and reflections, but who has not either respect enough for holiness, or love enough for God tliorougiily to attach himself to virtue, then rises this " morning cloud, this early dew thatgoeth away." I appeal to many of you. Recall, each of you, that memorable day of your life, in which sudden fear, dangerous symptoms, exquisite pain, a pale physician, and, more than all that, a universal faintnosa and imbecility of your faculties seemed to condemn you to a hasty death. Remember the prudence you have had, at least appeared to have, to make salvation your only care, banishing all company, forbid- ding your own children to approach, and con- versing with your pastor alone. Remember the docility with which, renouncing all reluc- tance to speak of your own faults, and iill desire to hear of tliose of other people, you re- spectfully attended to every thing wo took the lil)erty to say, we entered on the mortifying subject, you submitted to the most humbling and circumstantial detail, you yourself filled up the list with articles unknown to us. Re- collect the sighs you uttered, the tears you shed, the reproofs you gave yourself, yea, tlie odious names by whicii you described yourself. Re- member the vows, the resolutions, the promises you made. What are become of all tliese fine projects of conversion and repentance, which should have had an influence over all your life? The degree of your piety was regulated by the degree of your malady. Devotion rose and fell with your pulse. Your zeal kept time with your fever, and as the one decreased the other died away, and the recovery of your health was the resurrection of sin. This man, this praying man, this holy soul, then full of pious ejaculations and meditations, is now brim- ful of the world. You are the original of the portrait in tlie text, and your piety is "as the morning cloud, and as the early dew that goeth away." II. We have seen the nature, now let us at- tend to the insufficiency of this kind of devotion. Let us endeavour in this second part of our dis- course to feel the energy of this reproof, " O Ephraim, what shall I do imto thee? O Judah, what shall I do unto thee? for your goodness is as a morning cloud, and as the early dew it goeth away." 1. On a day like this, in which we have par- taken of what is most tender in religion, and in which we ought to yield to the soft feelings which religion is so fit to excite, let us advert to a singular kind of argument proposed in the text against transient devotions, that is, an ar- gument of sentiment and love. Certainly all the images which it pleases God to use in Scripture to make himself known to us, those taken from our infirmities, our pas- sions, our hatred, or our love, all are too im- perfect to represent a God, whose elevation «above man renders it impossible to describe him by any thing human. However, all these images have a bottom of truth, a real meaning agreeable to the nature of God, and propor- tioned to his eminent and infinite excellence. God represents himself here under the imago of a prince who had formed an intimate con- nexion with one of his subjects. The subject seems deeply sensible of the honour done him. The prince signifies his esteem by a profusion of favours. The subject aliuses them. The prince reprehends him. The subject is insen- sible and hard. To reproofs throatenings are added, and tlireatenings are succeeded by a sus- pension of favours. The subject seems moved, aflccted, changed. Tlie prince receives the penitent with open arms, and crowns his re- fijrmation with a double etlusion of bountiful donations. The ungrateful subject abuses them again. The prince reproves him again, threat- ens him again, and again suspends his liberality. To avert the same evil the selfish ingrate makes use of the former method, avails himself of the influence which the esteem of the prince gives him, and again he obtains forgiveness. The prince loves this violence: but the perfidious subject knowing his goodness returns to his un- grateful behaviour oa often as his bountiful lord Ser. LXIIL] TRANSIENT DEVOTIONS. 87 yields to his own inclination to mercy and es- teem, and thus becomes equally barbarous, whe- ther lie seems atiected with the benevolence of his prince, or whether he seems to despise it. For, my l)rethren, it is much less diilicult to separate one's self wholly from a faithless friend, than to conduct one's self properly to one who is iiiithless only by fits. These equivo- cal reformations, these appearances of esteem, are much more- cruel than total ingratitude, and open avowed hatred. In an entire rupture the mind is presently at a point: but in such imperfect connexions as tiiesc a thousand oppo- site thoughts produce a violent conflict in tiie mind. Siiall 1 countenance ingratitude, shall 1 discourage repentance? I repeat it again, thougli this image is infinitely beneath tiic ma- jesty of God, yet it is that which he has thought proper to employ. " O Kpiiraiui, wiiat shall I do unto tiice? O Judaii, what shall 1 do unto thee.' for your goodness is as a morning cloud, and as the early dew it goelh away." O Ephraini, O Judaii, why do you rend my heart asunder by turns with your virtue and your vice? Why not allow mo either to give myself entirely to you, or to detacii myself entirely from you? Why do you not sufier me to give a free course either to my esteem or to my dis- pleasure? Why do you not allow me to glorify myself by your repentance, or by your ruin? Your devotions hold my hand: your crimes in- flame my anger. Shall I destro)' a people ap- pealing to my clemency? Siiall I protect a people tram|)ling upon my laws? " O Ephraim, what siiall i do unto tlice? O J udaii, what siiall I do unto tliee? for your goodness is as a morn- ing cloud, and as the early dew it goetii away." 2. Consider secondly, tlie injustice of these devotions. Tiiougli tliey are vain, yet people e.xpect God to reward tiiein. Hear these words, " tiioy seeli me daily, and deliglit to know my ways, as a nation tiiat did rigliteousness:" but, " say tiiey, wiierefore iiave wc fasted, and tiiou seest not? Wiierefore have we afflicted our soul, and tiiou taiiest no Itnowledge," Isa. Iviii. 5!, 3. Tiiougii tliesc complaints were unjust, yet, vviiat is very remaritable, God sometimes paid attention to tiiem; for though lie sees the bottom of men's liearts, and distinguishes real from apparent piety, yet he lias so much love for repentance, that iie sometimes rewards tiie bare a|)pearance of it. See iiow he conducts liimseif in regard to Aiiab. Aiiab was a wicli- ed king. God denounced judgments against him, and was about to inflict tiieiu. Aiiab tore his garments, covered himself with sackclotii and ashes, and lay in tlie dust. Wiiat said God to Elijali? " Seest tliou iiow Aiiab iiumliietii iiimsclf liefore nie? Because iie iiumbletii liim- seif before me, I will not bring the evil," 1 Kings -xxi. 'J9. Nut bring tiie evil! Why, has Aliab proiiibitcd idolatry? Has he restored Na- lioth's vineyard? Has he renounced his trea- ties witii tlie enemies of God? No. Yet "Ahab iiiinil)leth liimseif, and because he humbleth himself I will not bring tiie evil." So true it is, tiiat God sometimes rewards a mere shadow of repentance. Tiie Jews knew this condescension of God, and tiiey insulted it in tiie most odious manner. " Come, let us return unto the Lord, for he hath torn, and ho will heal us, he liath smitten and lie will bind us up. After two days will he revive ua, in the third day ho will raise us up;" and wiien ho has " raised us up," and re-esta- blished us, wo will follow our former course of life. Wlien the tempest is over, vvo will again blaspiieme tiie Creator of storms. Is not this tiio very summit of injustice! 3. There is, let us oi)servc, a manifest con- tradictiiin between these two periods of life, be- tween that of our devotion and tiiat of oursin. Wiiat destroys one, necessarily subverts lx>th; and a reasonable man acting consistently ought to ciioose, eitlier to iiave no periods of devotion, or to perpetuate tiiem. Yes, we sliould choose eitiier a real inward piety to influence our prac- tice, or none of tiie sujierficial sentiments tliat produce a profession of it. We should choose eitlicr to act openly like an unmovcable plii- iosoplier, or shall I ratlier say a brute beast, wiien we seem to 1)0 upon tiie verge of tiie grave, or tliat ttie piety e.xcited tlicn sliould continue as long as wo live in case of recovery. Tliero is a palpable contradiction in having botli these dispositions. Wlien tlie state is in danger, and a solemn fast is kept, what is su|)posed? That tiiere is a just God governing tiie universe, dis- pensing good and evil, sooner or later destroy- ing rebellious nations, and exercising a justice more or less severe according to the duration of liis patience. If we believe all this, we should endeavour to regulate the state by tiiese prin- ciples, and if we do not Ijelieve it, we siiould not humble ourselves, and fast, and "bow down our heads like a bulrusii." What is supposed by tile prayers, and tears, and protestations we bring to the table of Jesus Christ' That God loves us, tiiat he has so loved us as to give us liis Son, that a Cliristiaii ought to return Jesus Clirist love for love, and life for life. If we be- lieve tliis, we ouglit to be always faithful to God, and if we do not believe it, we ought not to communicate, to pray, to weep, to promise. What is supposed by all the appearance of de- votion we iiave in sickness? Tliat the soul is immortal, tliat tiiere is a future state, tliat an eternity of iiappiness or misery awaits us. If we believe this, we ougiit to regulate our ac- tions by tliesc trutiis, and if we do not believe it, if tiie soul be not immortal, if iieaven and hell bo phantoms, we ought not to put on aa appearance of religion in prospect of death. But sucli is our littleness, when we lose sight of a tiling, we tiiink it ceases to be. When we find the art of forgetting truth, it should seem trutii is no more. When we cease thinking of our judge, it seems to us there is no judge. We resemble cliildren wiio shut their eyes to hide tliemselves from liie sight of their nurses. 4. Every part of devotion supposes some action of life, so tiiat if tiiere be no sucli action tlie whole value of devotion ceases. We hear a sermon, in tliis sermon we are taught some trutii of religion which has a close and insepa- rable connexion with our moral conduct. We are told tiiat a judge must be upright, a friend disinterested, a depository faitiiful. We do well to be attentive to this sermon: but after we have heard it, wo violate all the rules, if we be corrupt judges, ungrateful friends, faithless de- positaries; and if because we have heard our duty we think ourselves discharged from the necessity of doing it, do we not pervert the 88 TRANSIENT DEVOTIONS. [Ser. Lxm. order and destination of this discourse? We receive the Lord's Supper, there we go to con- firm our faith, to detach ourselves from the world, to prepare ourselves for a future state. We do well to receive the Lord's Supper: but if after we have received it we become lax in believing, fastened to the world, and without thought of a future state, and if wo neglect these duties, under pretence that we took steps relative to these duties, do we not pervert tiio Lord's Supper? This reasoning is so clear, that it seems needless to pretend to elucidate it. Yet many people reason in this manner, I have been to a place of worship, I have heard a ser- mon, I have received the communion, and now I may give a loose to my passions: but it is be- cause you have been to a place of worship, it is because you have heard a sermon, and received the communion, it is on account of this, that you ought wholly to employ yourself about that work, to promote which all these devotions were appointed. 6. Transient devotions are inconsistent with the general design of religion. This design is to reform man, to renew him, to transform him into the likeness of glorified saints, to render him like God. But how does a rapid torrent of devotion attended with no moral rectitude contribute to this end? If while I fast I eradi- cate the world from my heart, if while I ac- knowledge the enormity of my past life I en- deavour to reform it, if while I give mortal blows to the old man I form the new man in my heart, and if I thus build the edifice of grace, where once the temple of depravity stood, then I direct a fast day towards the great end of re- ligion. But what says God of another kind of fasting? " Is it such a fast that I have chosen, that a man should afflict his soul for a day? Is it to bow down the head as a bulrush, and to spread sackcloth and ashes under him? Wilt thou call this a fast, and an acceptable day to the Lord? Isa. Iviii. 5. And what says God of exterior devotions in general? " To what pur- pose is the multitude of your sacrifices unto me? saith the Lord. I am full of burnt-offerings and incense. Your new moons I cannot away with. Who hath required this at your hand? chap. i. 1 1 . The answer seems ready. Didst not thou, Lord, establish this worship, order an elegant temple to be built, and command the Jews to go up to Jerusalem? Sabbaths, solemn assem- blies, now moons, do they not owe their origin to thee? No: when they are destitute of love and obedience, " 1 hate new moons and Sab- baths, and solemn assemblies 1 cannot away with." In like manner, of all devotions of every kind, when they are not attended with uniform moral obedience, we say, and in par- ticular of the Lord's Supper we say, " I am weary" of your preparations, " I am full" of momentary devotions, and your pretended holy resolutions "I cannot away with." "Ô Ephraim, what shall I do unto thee? O Judah, what shall I do unto thee? for your goodness is as a morning cloud, and as the early dew it goeth away." 6. 'J'raiisient devotions must render promises of grace to you dmUilful, even supposing you should ever, after a thousand revolutions of transient piety, bo in posHcssion of true and real religion. What think you of this question? A man who has spent his life in sin is taken ex- tremely ill. His illness, a review of his life, and a fear of death, rouse his conscience. He sends for a minister, he opens to him all his heart, ho confesses his sins, he weeps, he groans, he protests ten thousand times that he hates his past life, and that he is determined to reform. He persuades himself, and all about him, that he is really converted. The minister promises him peace, and displays before him all the com- fortable declarations, which it has pleased God to bestow in the gospel. The sick man recovers his health, returns to the world, forgets all his designs of conversion and repentance, and pur- sues his former course of intrigue, and passion, and arrogance. He falls sick a second time, sends a second time for his minister, and again he opens his heart, accuses himself, sheds floods of tears, and once more vows amendment and conversion. The minister on the same prin- ciple as before encourages him to hope again. He recovers again, and perjures himself again, as he did the first time. A third time his ill- ness returns, and he takes the same steps, and would embrace the same promises, if they could be addressed to him. Now we ask, how a minister ought to conduct himself to such a man? What think you of this question? You know our commission, it is to preach peace to such as return to God with sincerity and good faith. The marks of sincerity and good faith are good works, and where circumstances ren- der good works impossible, protestations and promises are to be admitted as evidences of sin- cerity and good faith. These evidences have been deceitful in the man we speak of. His transition from promising to violating was as quick as that from violating to promising. Have we any right to suppose the penitent knows his heart better this third time than he did the first and second? How should we be able to determine his state, how can we ad- dress to liini any other than doubtful promises, since God, in some sort, adopts such senti- ments in the text? " O Ephraim, what shall I do unto thee? O Judah, what shall I do unto thee? for your goodness is as a morning cloud that goeth away." 7. Consider finally, the imprudence of a man who divides his life in this manner into periods of devotion and periods of sin. It seems at first to be the height of wisdom to find the un- heard-of art of uniting the reward of virtue, with the pleasure of vice. On the one side, by devoting only a fow moments to religion he spares himself the pains which they experience who make conscience of giving themselves en- tirely up to it: and by suspending only for a little while the exercise of his passions, he en- joys the pleasure of hoping fully to gratify them. On the other side, he quiets the storms of divine justice that threaten his rebellion, and thus obtains by devotions of a moment a protection, which others devote a whole life to acquire. Let us undeceive ourselves. A heart divided in this manner cannot bo happy. The chief cause of the difficulties we meet with in tlie way of salvation is owing to our partial walking, and to the lluctu.ation of the soul be- tween religion and the world. The world com- bats religion, religion combats the world. The divided heart is the field of battle where this Ser. LXIII.] TRANSIENT DEVOTIONS. 89 violent combat is fought. To desire to enjoy the I which nature and art seemed to have rendered pleasures of both virtue and sin is to enjoy nei Iher, and to partaito of the inconveniences of botii. To be at ;i jjuiiil, to lake a part, and to take the wise part, is the .«ource of true peace and solid felicity. Besides, tliis state of suspension which God assumes in the te.vt is violent, and cannot last lonj»'. Like motives of jiiUience do not concur at all times: witness the kingdom of .Uidah mentioned in the text, wliich was at length given up to llie fury of the Chaldeans; witness tiiis Epiiraim, I mean the kingdom of the ten tribes, concerning whose destiny tiie projjhet seems in the text to waver; however, at Icngtli God determined tlieir dispersion, and the tribes were confomided witii those idolatrous and wicked people, whose immorality and idolatry they had too oxactl}' copied. All the help of histor}', and all tiio penetration of historians are necessary to discover any trace of these people: if indeed tlie penetration of historians and travellers have discovered any thing about them. But why go back to remote periods of the world to prove a truth which our own eyes now behold in abundance of bloody demonstra- tions? If there ever were a j'ear from the foundation of the world, if tliere has ever been impregnable. They will describe both armies animated with a fury unknown l>efore, disput- ing in carnage and blood with efforts unparal- leled both for the greatness of the slaughter, and the glory of the victory. They will re- present the most fruitful kingdom of Europe under all the misery of scarcity, in this more cruel than famine, it iriHicts a more slow and lingering dcatli. They will speak of the ia- bcjurers howling f )r bread in the public roads; and will tell of " a sudden ferocity ne.\t to madness possessing nmltiiudes, men seizing pnl)lic convoys, snatching the bread from one another's hands, decency, fidelity, and religion being dead."* So many victims sacrificed to divine ven- geance, my bretiiren, so many plagues wasting Kurope, so many shocks of the earth, above all, so great a share as our crimes had in kind- ling the anger of God, should seem to shake the foundations of this state, and to convulse and kill the greatest part of this auditory. Yet this state still subsists, thanks to thine in- finite mercy my God, the state yet subsists, and though afliicled, distressed, and weary with a long and cruel war, it subsists as rich and as splendid as any country in the world. These hearers too, yet subsist, thanks to thy mercy a year proper to prove these terrible truths, it niy God, oi"- eyes behold them, and by a kind is that whicli lately came to an end. Tl dreadful events that distinguisjied it, and of which we were if not the victims, at least the witnesses, are too recent and too well known, to need description. This year will be propos- ed to the most distant posterity as one of the most alarming periods of divine vengeance. Future preachers will quote it as St. Jude for- merly did the subversion of Sodom, and the universal deluge. Tiicy will tell your posterity, that in the year one thousand seven hundred and nine the patience of God, weary with Eu- rope, enveloped in one general sentence friend and foe, almost the wliole of that beautiful part of the world. They will say that all the scourges of heaven in concert were let loose to destroy guilty nations. They will lead their auditors over the vast kingdoms of tlie north, and show them the Borysthenes stained with blood, contagion flying rapidly as on the wings of the winds, from city to city, from province to province, from kingdom to kingdom, ravag- ing in one week so many thousand jiersons, in the next so many thousand more. They will tell them of llie kingdoms wliich were claimed l)y two princes, and by lively images of the cruel barbarities practised there, they will ren- der it doubtful whether it were a desire of con- quering or depopulating these kingdoms that directed the arms of tiiese rivals. They will represent that tlieatre of blood in Flanders,* and describe in glowing colours troops on both sides animated witli equal fury, some to defend posts which seemed to need no defence but themselves, others to force intrcnchments * Our author refers to the battle of Malplaquet, fouglit Se|ileiiibcr the llth, 1709, brlween th« Kmioh army con- sisting; of one UuiKlrt'cl and twvnty thousand ineu cont- inandfd by Marshal Villars, and the tonfedcralc army cousistiiig of nearly an equal number under the command of the Duke of Marlborough. The couftdeiatt army ob- tained the victory at the price of twenty thousand of their best troo|>s. Vol. II.— 12 of miracle they have been preserved to the be- ginning of another year. Preserved did I say.' They have been crowned. And how does this year begin, this year which we never expected to see, after a year distinguished by the three great evils, pestilence, famine, and war, how does it begin with us? It begins with the smiles of heaven, with a participation of what is most august in religion, with the descent of the Holy Spirit into our hearts, with the re- newing of our covenant with God, and, if I may be allowed to say so, it begins with an ac- knowledgment on God's part, that his love will not allow of our destruction, how much soever we deserve to be destroyed. " O E|)hraim, how shall I give thee up? O Israel, how shall I deliver thee up? How shall I make thee as Admah? how shall I set thee as Zeboim? Mine heart is turned within me, ray repentings are kindled together." Ah! why must a joy so pure be mixed with a just fear that you will abuse his goodness? Why, across such a multitude of benefits must we be con- strained to look at vengeance behind? O re- public! nourished by heaven, " upon which tlie eyes of the Lord thy God are always fixed, from the beginning of the year even unto the end of the year," Deut. xi. 12; why must we be driven to-day to utter unpleasant omens, along with the most affectionate benedictiona' And you believers who hear us, why, now that we wish you a happy new year, must we be obliged to foretell an unhappy one? For what security have we that this year will be more holy than the last' have we any certainty that this commimion will be more effectual than others? What security have we that the resolutions of this day will have more influence over our lives than all before? Can we be stirc tliat the devotion of tliis day will * Flechier's pastoral letter. 90 TRANSIENT DEVOTIONS. [Ser. Lxni. not be " as a morning cloud, and as the early dew that eroctli away.'" And consequently .what security have we that this will not be the last year of this republic, the last coniinunion, the last invitation of mercy that will ever be given to all this assembly? Ah, my brethren, my dear brethren, behold the God who hcwttli ns liy his prophrts, behold him who has slain men hti Ike vnrds of his inoitlh, behold him, who in the [ircseni-c of his unjrels waitinw in this assembly, behold him once more sayinir to you, "() i;]iliruim, what shall 1 do unto thee? " O .ludah, what shall 1 do unto thee? for your goodness is as the morn- ing cloud, that goeth away!" There are two great motives among many others, which chiefly urge your conversion to- day: your receiving the Lord's Supper this morning, and the uncertainty of living all this year. This morning you received the Lord's Sup- per, and with it peace of conscience, inward consolation, ineffable pleasure, "joy unspeak- able and full of glory," if indeed you did feel this, and if these are not in regard to you sounds without meaning. What! shall four days, shall four days cfiace all these im])res- sions? What! shall a worldly society, vvill a sensual temptation, can a ])rofane raillery bring you to violate all your resolutions, and to bo guilty of perjury towards God- Do not fall into the ])uerility mentioned a little while ago, do not think the great truths you have felt to- day will cease to be, because you cease to think of them. Jesus died for you, Jesus gave him- self for you, Jesus demands your heart, Jesus promises you an eternity of happiness; this is true to-day, this will be true to-morrow and all next week, during all your temptations and pleasures; and what, pray, can the world offer you in lieu of the heaven that came into your conscience? what to supply the place of that Redeemer, who this morning gave himself to you in a manner so affectionate? To this first motive add the other, the vanity of life, a vanity described by the renewing of the year. I am aware how feeble this motive is to many of us. The past insures us for the future, and because we have never died, it seems to us as if we never should die. My brethren, you compel us to-day to set before you the most mournful images, which can possibly strike your eyes. You oblige us to open wounds beginning to heal, and to an- ticipate the sorrows of the present year; but what can be done? If we cannot detach men from the world, we must tear them away by force. Did we deceive you last year when we told you, that many who were present in this place on new year's day, would not live through tlie year? Has not the event fully verified the sad [irediction? Answer me, ye disconsolate widows, who saw your husbands, objects of the purest and tcnderest love, expire in your arms. Answer me, ye children in mourning, who fol- lowed your parents to the grave. How many afflicted Jacobs are weeping for the loss of a mother? How many Davids are saying in the bitterness of their heart, "O my son Absalom, O Absalom, my son, my son. Would God 1 liad died for thee!" I low many " Benonis, sons of sorrow," born at the " departing of the soul" of their parents? How many Marthas and Marys, bedewing the grave of a brother with their tears, a brother dead four days, and by this time infectious? How many plaintive voices are heard in Rama? How many Ra- chels weeping and refusing to be comforted, because their " children are not'" Having considered the last year, turn your attention to this, which we arc now beginning. If, instead of such vague discourses as we address to you, God should this moment give us light into futurity, a sight of his book of decrees, a foreknowledge of the destiny of all our hearers, and impel us to inform each of you how this new revolution would interest you, what cries would be heard in this auditory! There you would sec that haughty man, fiill-blown with vanity, confounded in the same dust with the meanest of mankind. Here you Would see this voluptuous woman who refuses nothing to her senses, lying on a sick-bed, expiring in agony between the pain of a mortal malady and the just fear of falling into the hands of an angry God. Yonder you would behold that officer now crowned with laurels, and about to reap a new harvest of glory in the next cam- paign, covered with tragical dust, weltering in ins own blood, and finding a grave where his imagination appointed victory to meet him. In all parts of this auditory, on the right hand, on tiie left, before, behind, by your side, in your own ])ew, I should show you carcas.ses, and pro])ably lie who hears us with the most indif- ference, and who secretly despises such as tremble at our preaching, would himself serve to prove the truth we are delivering, and occupy the first jilace in this fatal list. My brethren. Providence has not honoured us with any new revelations, we have not a spirit of prophecy: but you have eyes, you have a memory, you have reason, and j'ou are cer- tain death will sacrifice many of you in the course of this year. On whom will the tem- pest fall? WJio will first verify our predictions? You cannot tell; and on this ground you will brave death, on this you build castles of vanity, which attach you to the world. My brethren, establish your tranquillity and happiness on foundations more firm and solid. If you be atTccted with the motives set before you this day, and now resolve to labour in the work of your salvation, only you fear the weak- ness of your resolutions, we will give you one more lesson easy and practicable, tliat is, that every day of this year you retire one quarter of an hour and tliiiik of death. There put on in tiiought your shroud, lie down in your coffin, light your funeral tapers. There, observe your family weeping, your |)hysiciaii aghast, your long and melancholy train. There consider your friends, your cliildren, your titles, your treasures removed for over. There strike your imagination with the salutary ideas of books opened, thrones prepared, actions weighed in just balances. There lose yourself in the dark economy of a future stato. Having heard our exhortations, receive our benedictions. F'irst, I turn myself toward the walls of that palace, where laws of Cfjuity, tho glory and felicity of these provinces, are made; where the importiint questions which influence religion and tho state, and shake all Europe, Seii. LXIIL] TRANSIENT DEVOTIONS. 91 are agitated. Ye protectors of the church, our masters and sovereifrns, may God confirm the power that you possess with so much glory! May God continue in your hands the reins of this repuhhc whicli you liold witii so much moderation and wisdom! God grant you may first share tiie prosperity and glory which you diffuse among all this ))eo[)le! Under your ad- ministration God grant religion may Hourish, justice and peace How over the whole world, the Ik'lgic name he respected, and the nation victorious, and after you have heen elevated to the pinnacle of terrestrial grandeur, may God elevate you to everlasting glory! I turn myself also to you, illustrious per- sonages, who represent in these provinces the chief heads of the Christian world, and who in a manner exliibit in this assembly princes, electors, republics, and monarchs, may God open his richest treasures in favour of those sacred jiersons who arc gods upon earth, and whose august characters you bear to enable them to support sovereign power with dig- nity! God grant they may always have such ministers as you, who understand how to make supreme auUiorily both respected and feared! God grant a conlcticracy formed for tlio secu- rity of all nations and people may be continued! And that my wishes may be more worthy of the majesty of this place, and the holiness of my ministry, 1 pray God to unite you not only by the same temporal interest but by the same religion; may you have the same God for your Father, the same .lesus for your Redeemer, tiie same spirit for your guide, the same glory for your hope! I own at the sight of these lords of tiie universe, to whom I have the honour to address myself, 1 feel my insignificance, and I had suppressed all these wislies in my heart, had I not known that I speak the sense of all this assembly, the benedictions of all the churcii, and the congratulations of the state. You also we bless, Lévites holy to the Lord, ambass.adors of tlie King of kings, ministers of the new covenant, who have written on your foreheads " holiness to the Lord," and on your breasts " tlie names of the children of Israel;" and you, elders and deacons of this church, who are as it were a.ssociated with us in the work of the ministry, may God animate you with the zeal of his house! God grant you may always take for your model the " chief Shepherd aiul I'isliop of our souls!" God grant after you have " preaclied to others, you may not be cast away!" May you "turn many to righteousness," and afterward " shine as the stars for ever and ever!" Receive our benediction, fatliers and mothers of families, happy to see yourselves born again in tlic persons of your children, happier still to bring those into the " assembly of the first- born," whom you have brought into this valley of trouble! God grant your houses may be sanctuaries, and your children offerings to the " Father of spirits," the " God of the spirits of all flesh!" Accept our good wishes, officers and soldiers, you, who after so many battles are going to war again, you, who after escaping so many dangers are entering on a new march of perils: may the God of battles fight incessantly for you! May victory constantly follow your steps! While you subdue your enemies may you experience this maxim of the Wise Man, " he that ruleth his spirit is better than he that taketh a city." Young people, receive our blessing: may you ever bo preserved from the contagion of the world you are entering! M;iy you devote the inestimable days you enjoy to your salvation! Now may you " remember your Creator in the days of your youth!" Receive our good wishes, old people, who have already one foot in the grave, let us rather say, who have already " your heart in heaven where your treiisure is:" May you find your " inward man renewed day by day, as your outward man perisheth!" May you feel your soul strengthened ixs your bodies decay, and when your house of clay falls may the gates of heaven open to you! Desolate coimtries, to you also we extend our good wishes and prayers. You have been many years the uiilia|)|iy theatre of the most bloody war that ever was. May the "sword of the Lord drunk with blood," retire into its " scabbard, rest and be still!" May the destroy- ing angel who ravages your fields, cvsisc to execute his commission! May your " swords be beaten into ploughshares, and 3'our speare into pruning-hooks," and may tlie dew of heaven succeed the sliow(;r of blood that for so many years has been falling upon you. Are our benedictions exhausted.' Alas! on this joyful day can we forget our griefs? Ye happy inhabitants of these jirovinces, so often troubled with a recital of our afflictions, we rejoice in your pro-^jjorily, will you refuse to compassionate our misfortunes? And you, " firebrands plucked out of the burning," sad and venerable ruins of our unhappy churches, my dear brethren, whom the misfortunes of the times have cast on this shore, can we forget the miserable remnants of ourselves? O ye groan- ing captives, ye weeping priests, ye sighing virgins, ye festivals profaned, ye ways of Zion mourning, ye untrodden paths, ye sad com- plaints, move, O move all tliis assembly. " O Jerusalem, if I forget thee, let my right hand forget her cunning. Not remember thee! let my tongue cleave to the roof of my mouth, if I prefer not Jerusalem above my chief joy! O Jerusalem, peace be within thy walls, and pros- perity within thy palaces. For my brethren and companions' sake, I will now say jieace be within thee!" May God be moved, if not with the ardour of our prayers, yet with the excess of our afilictions; if not with our misfortunes, yet w'ith the desolation of his sanctuaries, if not with the bodies we carry all about the world, yet with the souls that arc torn from us! And thou dreadful prince, whom I once honoured as my king, and whom I yet respect as a scourge in the hand of Almighty God, thou also shall have a part in my good wishes. These provinces which thou threatencst, but W'hich the arm of the Lord protects; tliis coun- try which thou fiUest with refugees, but fugi- tives animated with love; these walls whicli contain a thousand martyrs of thy making, but whom religion renders victorious, all these yet resound benedictions in thy favour. God grant the fatal bandage that hides the truth from thine eyes may fall ofl'! May God forget the 92 THE DIFFERENT METHODS [Ser. LXIV. rivers of blood, with wliicli thou hast deluged the earth, and wliich thy reign lias caused to be slied! May God blot out of liis book the injuries wliich thou hast done us, and while he rewards tiie sufferers, may he pardon those who exposed us to suffer! O may God, who has made thee to us, and to the whole church, a minister of his judgments, make thee a dis- penser of his favours, an administrator of his mercy! I return to you, my brethren, I include you all in my benedictions. May God pour out his Holy Spirit upon all tliis assembly! God grant this year may be to us all an acceptable year, a preparation for eternity! " Drop down ye heavens from above, let the skies pour down righteousness, let the earth open, and let them bring forth salvation." It is not enough to wish for those blessings, they must be procured, and we must derive them from the source. It is not sufficient that a frail man utters benedictions in your favour, we must pray for a ratification of tlicin by the happy God. We must go to tlie tlirone of God himself, wrestle with him, earnestly beseech him with prayers and tears, and " not let him go except he bless us." Magistrates, people, soldiers, citizens, pastors, flock, come let us 1)0W our knees before the Monarch of the world: and you birds of prey, devouring cares, worldly anxieties, bo gone, and interrupt not our sacrifice. SERMON LXIV THE DIFFERENT METHODS OF PREACHERS. 1 Corinthians iii. 11 — 15. Other fmtndalion can no man lay than that is laid, which is Jesus Christ. .Aou' if any man build ■upon this foundation, gold, silver, pi-ecious stones; wood, hay, stubble; ei'ery mart's xcork shall be made manifest; for the day shrdl declare it, because it shall he revealed by fire; and the fire shall try every junn's work of what sort it is. If any jiinit's icork abide, ivhich he hath built thereupon, he shall receive a reicard. If nny man''s work shall be burnt, he shall suffer loss; but he himself shall be saved, yet so as by fire. Had rules of preaching sermons no con- nexion with those of hearing them, we would not have treated of this text in this plâtre. Sa- tisfied with meditating on it in the study, we would have chosen a subject in which you would have lH;en more directly interested. IJiil what doctrine i:an wo preach to you, which doi.'H not engage you to some dispositions, that cannot be neglected without hazarding the great salvation, for the sake of which you as- tuimble in this holy place? Are wo such ene- mies to trutli, or (lo we so ill understand it, as to teach you a doctriiu; contrary to that, which the Holy Spirit has biid down in Scripture? If so, you should renuirriber the saying of an apostle, and, animated with a holy indignation, should exclaim, " Though you, or an angel from heaven, preach any other gospel unto us than that which we have received, let him be I accursed!" Gal. i. 8, 9. Do we always keep in sight while we are working in the building of the church, " the pattern showed to us in I the mount'" Heb. viii. 5. You ought to be 1 attentive, diligent, and teachable. Do we make an odious mixture of truth and error, " Christ and Belial, light and darkness? you ought to exercise your senses to discern good from evil. It is this inseparable connexion of your duty with ours, which determined me to explain the text. It directly regards the vari- ous methods of tlie preachers of the gospel: but as the terms are metaphorical and obscure, it will be necessary to develope the meaning of the apostle in the following manner. thirst, we will examine what gave occasion for tlie words — next, we will observe the design of the apostle in writing them — in the third place, we will explain the several figures made use of — and lastly, we will apply the subject to practice. I. The occasion of the text will appear by a little attention to the connexion in which it stands. St. Paul had been endeavouring to put an end to the divisions of the church at Corinth, and to destroy the party-spirit of the Corinthians. Ought we to be astonished, that churches are so little unanimous now, when we sec diversity often among apostles and pri- mitive Christians? If peace, left by Jesus Christ as an inheritance to his apostles, could not be maintained in churches gathered by these blessed men, where must we look for it' Perhaps, division was partly owing to the im- prudence of some preachers in their primitive churches: but certainly their hearers had a chief hand in fomenting them. The teachers had ditlerent gifts, and their hearers divided into parties under their ministry. It is always allowable to distinguish men, who have re- ceived great talents from God, from such as have received abilities not so great; but these Corinthian Christians affected to exalt those of their ministers, who they thought, were men of the most eminent abilities, to tlie depres- sion and discouragement of the rest, and under pretence of paying homage to God the giver of these talents, lliey very indiscreetly idolized the men wiio had received them. IVIoreover, they made as many different religions, as God had given different commissions, and different abilities to ministers to execute them. Each jiarty at Corinth chose out of these pretended religions, that which appeared most conform- able to its prejudices. Tlie converted Pagans were for St. Paul, to whom the conversion of the gentiles had been committed, and who had iirought them to the knowledge of Jesus Christ, and they said, for our parts, " we are of Paul." Such as had a taste for eloquence wore l"or Apollos, wiio was an " eloquent man, and mighty in the Scriptures," and they said, " wo are of Apollos." The converted Jews were for Peter, who discovered a great deal of moderation towards their ceremonies, and who had even " compelled the gentiles to live as the Jews did," that is to mix the simple wor- ship of the New Testament with the ceremo- nial observances of the law, and they said, as for us, " wo are of Ceplias." And those Jews, who obstinately continued tlie ceremony of circumcision, pretended that they had no need Ser. LXIV.] OF PREACHERS. 93 of the authority either of Paul, or of Apollos, or of ('ephas, fi)r the example of Jesus Christ, who had liimscif been circumcised, was sulti- cient for them, and for tlieir parts, they were " of Christ." St. Paul tells these Corinthians, that, as long as they should continue in this disposi- tion, he should consider them as novices in the Christian religion, able at most only to imdcr- stand the first principles, not to comprehend the whole desiifn. He tells them, that there were in this religion "treasures of wisdom and knowledge," but into which men could never enter, who mixed their passions with trutlis intended to mortify them; and that this defect in them prevented him from attemjiting to lay before them these riches. " I, brethren, could not speak unto you as unto spiritual, but as unto carnal, even as unto babes in Christ. I have fed you with milk and not with meat: for hitherto ye were not able to bear it, neither yet now are ye able. For ye are yet carnal, for whereas there is among you envying and strife and divisions, are ye not carnal, and walk as men," 1 Cor. iii. 1 — 3, that is, as men of the world? Having reproved the folly, and repeated the descriptive censure, he leads them to the true motive that should induce them to avoid it. Although, as if he had said, the talents of your ministers are not all equal, )'et they all received them from the same source, that is, from the grace of God; and how amply so- ever any of them may be endowed with abili- ties, they can have no success, except the same grace bestows it. " Who then is Paul, and who is Apollos, but ministers by whom ye be- lieved, as the Lord gave to every man," ver. 5, that is, as the blessing of God accompanied their ministry? " I have planted, Apollos wa- tered: but God gave the increase. " So then neither is he that plantetli any thing, neither he that watereth, but God that giveth the in- crease," ver. 8. A great lesson for those to whom God has given gifts to preach the gos- pel! A fine example of humility, wliicii they ought always to have before their eyes! And what were the gifts, with which God enriched tiie first heralds of the gospel? What is a lit- tle vivacity of imagination, a little grace of elo- cution, a little reading, a little justness of rea- soning? What are these talents in comparison with the gifts of men, who spoke several fo- reign languages, who understood all mysteries, who altered the laws of nature, who were dis- pensers of the divine power, who raised the dead, who slew the wicked with tiie breath of their lips, who struck dead at their feet Ana- nias and Sapphira, and to say more still, who were inmiediately conducted by the spirit of Gotl in their ministry? Yet behold the man, who was first in this class of extraordinary men, behold this chosen vessel, behold the man who could say, " I was not a whit behind the very chiefest apostles," 2 Cor. xi. 5, behold him, doing homage for all his own talents, and all those of his colleagues, to that grace, from which they came, and which blessed the ad- ministration of them. " Who is Paul? Who is Apollos? He that planteth is nothing, he that watereth is nothing, but God that giveth the increase." II. It was to bo feared (we proceed to the d(sii;n of the text,) it was to be feared, that under |)retence tliat all the ministers of the gospel were united in one point of equality: under pretence that none of them were any more than servants of God, and canals by which he commimicated himself to the church; I say it was hazardous, and much to be sus- pected, whether teachers themselves would not abuse this equality by applying what the apos- tle meant only of the abilities of preachers, to the very doctrines themselves which they taught. If this were doubtful in regard to the preach- ers, it was no less so in regard to the hearers. People have, I think, a natural bias to super- stition. They easily show that respect, which is due only to the character of a minister of the living God, to all that put it on, even to such as use it only for the perverting of the gospel, yea to those who endeavour to subvert It entirely. Because we ought not to hear the gospel in a spirit of cliicanery and sophistry, it is supposed we ought to lay aside a spirit of di.scernment. Hence this way of speaking, so superstitious, and at the same time so common among us, that is, that whatever difference there may be in preachers, yet they all preach the word of God. Rut it is not impossible, that from a text which is the word of God, explications may be given, which are only the word of man. Not impossible, did I say! I believe it seldom, if ever happens, that two ministers treat of one subject without at least one of them mixing with the word of God some expressions which are only the word of man. Why? Because the conformity of their sentiments can never be so perfect, but they will differ on some questions. Now, of two men, one of whom takes the affirmative side of a question, and the other the negative, ono of tliem nmst of necessity, in this respect, preacii the word of God, and the other the word of man. You should not, therefore, pay a superstitious attention to our discourses. — You should not, under pretence that all j^our ministers thus preach the word of God, con- found the word of God with the word of man. Whatever patience you may be obliged to have with our imperfections, you ought not equally to esteem two discourses, the greatest part of one of which you call, and have reason to call, the word of God, and the greatest part of the other the word of man. The design of St. Paul in our text is to rec- tify our judgment on this subject. For this purpose he divides preachers into three classes. The first are such as preach the word of man, not only different from the word of God, but directly in opposition to it. The second preach the pure word of God without human mixtures. The third do indeed make the word of God the ground of their preaching, but mix with it the explications and traditions of men. The apostle characterizes these three kinds of preachers, informs us of their destina- tion, and what account God will require of their ministry. 1. " Other foundation can no man lay than that is laid." This is directed against such mi- nisters as preach the word of man in direct op- position to the word of God, or tho doctrine 94 THE DIFFERENT METHODS [Ser. Lxrv. of Jesus Christ. What will be Die destina- tion of sucl) ministers? St. Paul tells us by affirming, " no man can preach, no man can lay any other foundation than that is laid." No man can! Not that this can never hap- pen. Alas! This has too often happened; wit- ness many communities, which under the Christian name subvert all the foundations of the Cliristian religion. Hut no man can do so without rendering himself guilty of the great- est crime, and e.xposing himself to the greatest punishment. 2. " If any man build upon this foundation, gold, silver, precious stones." These are mi- nisters, who preach tlie pure word of God. They not only retain all the fundamental points of the Christian religion, iu opposition to the former who subvert them: hut they explain these truths so as to affirm notliing inconsistent with them. All the inferences they draw from these great principles naturally proceed from them, and their whole doctrine is agreea- ble to the foundation on which it is built. On this account it is compared to "gold, silver, and precious stones." What shall be the des- tiny of these ministers in the great day of judgment, when their doctrine shall be exam- ined? They " shall receive a reward." They shall share the glorious promises made to faith- ful ministers of religion. 3. " If any man build upon this foundation, wood, hay, stubble." These are ministers who really make the word of God the ground of their preaching: but who mix the word of man with it, and disfigure it with their fanci- ful sophistry. When the doctrine of these mi- nisters shall be examined in the great day of judgment, what sliall their destiny be? " They themselves shall be saved," because they have taught nothing directly contrary to the essen- tial truths of Christianity: but they shall have no reward for exercising a ministry, in which they rendered the word of God of less effect by mixing with it the traditions of men, and they shall be " saved, yet so as by fire," that is, witli difficulty, because tlieir preaching occupied the time and attention of their hearers, in a manner unworthy of the disciples of Jesus Christ. This is, my brethren, a general view of the design of our text: but this is not sufficient to give an exact knowledge of it. In a discourse intended to prevent, or to eradicate a certain kind of su])erstition, nothing ought to be pro- ]>(iscd that is likely to cherish it. You should not be required to believe any thing without the most full and convincing evidence. Hav- ing therefore shown you tiie general design of the text, we will proceed to our tliird arti- cle, and exjjlain the several metaphors made use of in it. III. Although all these figurative expres- sions are selected with caution, and very bold, yet they are not all alike obscure to you. Which of you is such a novice, I do not say only in the style of the inspired authors, as not to know the idea affixed to the term founda- tion? In architecture they call those massy stones laid in the earth, and on which the whole building rests, foundations; and thus in moral things, particularly in sciences, founda- tions signify some propositions, without which all the rest that make the body cannot sub- sist. The foundaltDn is Jesus Christ. These terms are to be understood in this place, as in many others, of the Christian religion, which is call- ed Jesus Christ, not merely because Jesus Christ taught it to the world, but because his history, that is, his sufferings, his death, and his resurrection, are the principal subjects. In this sense, the apostle says, " he determin- ed not to know any thing among" the Corin- thians " save Jesus Christ and him crucified," that is, the Christian religion, of which the crucifixion of Christ is a principal article. The other emblems, " wood, hay, stubble; gold, silver, precious stones," seem evidently to convey the ideas which we just now affixed to them. As St. Paul here represents the doc- trine of preachers under the similitude of an edifice, it is natural to suppose, that " wood, hay, and stubble," especially when they are opposed to " gold, silver, and precious stones," should mean doctrines less considerable, either because they are uncertain, or unimportant. For the same reason, " gold, silver, precious stones," signify in the edifice of the church, or in the system of preachers, such doctrines as are excellent, sublime, demonstrable. In this sense the propliet Isaiah, describing the glory of tiie church under the government of the Messiah, says, " behold, I will lay thy stones with fair colours, and thy foundations with sapphires. And I will make thy windows of agates, and thy gates of carbuncles, and all thy borders of pleasant stones," chap. liv. 11, lii, and, by way of explaining this metaphori- cal language, he adds in the very next words, " All thy ciiildren shall be taught of the Lord, and great shall be the peace of thy children." There is a little more difficulty, at least there are many more opinions on the meaning of those words, " Every man's work shall be made manifest, for the day shall declare it, be- cause it shall bo revealed by fire, and the fire shall try every man's work, of what sort it is." Without detailing, and refuting erroneous opin- ions on these words, let it suffice that we point out the true sense. By the " day" we under- stand the final judgment. This day is called in many passages of Scripture the day " of the Lord," the " day," or that day by excellence. Thus the apostle, " Jesus Christ shall confirm you unto the end, that ye may be blameless in the day of our Lord," chap. i. 8. Thus, also, speaking of the temporal punishment of the incestuous person, he says, " deliver such a one unto Satan, for the destruction of the tlesli, that the spirit may be saved in the day of the Lord Jesus," chap. v. 5. So again, "I know whom 1 have believed, and I am per- suaded, that ho is able to keej. thai which I have committed unto him against that day," 2 Tim. i. 12. In that day " every man's work shall bo revealed," or " made manifest by fire." It is not astonishing, that fire should be joined here with the day of judgment. The Scrip- ture teaches us in more than one place, that the terrible day of judgment will verify in the most dreadful of all senses this declaration, " God makoth winds his angels," and " flam- Ser. LXIV.] OF PREACHERS. 95 ing fire hia ministers."* Hence tlio psalmist says, "the mighty God, even the Lord liatii spoken, and called the earlli from the risiiiir of the sun unto the going down thereof. A fire shall devour hcf(jre him," Ps. 1. 1. Agrce- ahly to whicii our ajjostlc says, " the Lord Jesus, when ho shall romc to lie glorified in his saints, and to ho admired in all them that bcliev(;, shall be revealed from heaven in flam- ing fire, taking vengeance on them tiiat know not God," 2 Thes. vii. 10. 8. Though all these passages cast light on the text, yet strict- ly speaking, 1 think the apostle presents the fire of the day of judgment here under an idea somewhat ditVurent from that given in all these passages, in these, fire is represented as punishing only the wicked, the righteous do not feel the action of it: but here in the text it is described as alike kindled fijr the righte- ous and the wicked; at least it is said that the works of both sliall be " revealed by fire." Now we should bo obliged to have recourse to some subterfuge to make sen.se of the te-\t, if we understood the apostle speaking of the fire of hell. How can the works of the righteous and the wicked be equally manifested by the fire of hell? I think a much more simple and natural ex- position may be given of the words of the text. The chief design of a day of judgment is to examine the actions of men, and to distinguish bad actions from good, and good from better. This is an idea contained in a thousand pas- sages of Scripture, and it would be useless to prove it. Now the apostle, in order to make us understand that the evidence siiall be com- plete, represents it under the similitude of the most perfect and best known trials among men, of which that of metal by fire certainly excels in its kind. Hence it is, that the sacred writers have chosen this to explain the trials which God makes his children go through in this world. 1 select only one passage out of a great number, " That the trial of your faith, being much more precious than of gold that perisheth, though it be tried with fire, might be found unto praise, and honour, and glory, at the ai)pearance of Jesus Cln'ist," 1 Pet. i. 1. The trial of your faith is a remarkable word in tho original. Good Greek authors use it for the trial of metals in the fire. Iso- crates uses the term exactly as St. Peter does, * Psalm civ. 4. The English version is — IVho makcth his angels spirits: his miuistcrs a Jliiming fire. Mr. Sanrin uualketh upon the wings of the tvind — who maketh clotuls his chariot — who sitteth on xratcrs — whose canopy is the heavens. Whose clothing is Us,ht. This whole psalm, the most sublime of all essays on nature, makes all parts of the universe particles of one body of majestic si/.c, and evact symmetry, of which the Psalmist's God, JEHOVAH, is the soul; the earth, the deep, mountains, valleys, bcitsti, fowls, grass, herbs, nil, wine, man, and all his movements, the skill that builds, and sails a ship, and the seitsations that make Icviathiin play, all these, all the i)art9 and powers of nature, are formed, animated, aud directed by God. Thirdly, this sense is agreeable to other passages of Scripture — the Lord rained ^irc, Gen. xix. :24. The Lord caused the sea to go back by a strong cost vind, Exod. xiv. 21. Fire and hail, snow and vapour, stormy wind, fulfilling his word, Ps. cxiviii. wc try f;ol(l in the fire. I return to the text, which 1 left only for the sake of explaining it the better. St. Paul hero represents the day of judgment as a time of the most exact and severe trials of tho actions of men, and parti- cularly of tho doctrines of ministers of the ljoH|)el. For this ])urpose he compares the trial witli that of metals by fire. Says he, the dillereiit doctrines of ministers of tlio gos- ])el shall then be put into a crucible that they may be fully known, as by the same ]jroce8S pure gold is separated and distinguished from ioreign matter mixed with it: " Every man's work shall be made manifest, for the day," that is, the day of judgment, " shall declare it," because it siiall be " revealed by fire," that is, tho day of judgment like " fire," ap- plied to metals " shall try every man's work, of what sort it is." The apostle, pursuing the same metaphor, adds, " If^ any man's work abide, which he hatli built tlieieu[)on, he shall receive a re- ward," that is, if the doctrine which a mirds- ter of tl.e gospel shall have taught, and built on " the foundation that is laid," if this doc- trine shill abide the trial of the day of judg- ment, as gold abides that of fire, the preacher shall receive a reward: but if his doctrine Imrn, i:' it will not abide this trial, if it be like the foreign matter mixed with gold, and which burns when gold is tried with fire, then the preacher will lose the honour and pleasure of ills work, he will have no reward for his minis- terial services: but as to himself, perhaps he may be saved, however, he will be saved with difficulty, " he will be saved as by fire." Why may he be saved.' Because his doctrine did not fo to the subversion of the principal truths of tiie Christian religion. Why will he be saved with difficulty? Because his doctrine was inconsistent with the dignity of Christi- anity. Why is the salvation of such a man uncertain? Because it is possible, that the motives which induced him to preach such a doctrine, and to prefer it before what St. Paul compares to "gold and precious stones," n)ay have been so detestable as to deserve all the punishments denounced against such as shall have subverted the foundation of the gospel. If you doubt whether the sense we have given to this met;i|)horical expression, " saved as by fire," be just, we beg leave to observe in three words that it is well founded. First, the sense given is not forced, for no- thing is more natural than to express a great difficulty by similitudes taken from difficult things, thus we say a man escaped from ship- wreck, to describe a man who has escaped from any oreat danger: and the same idea is expressed with equal aptness, when we say a man freed from some great danger has es- caped the fire. Secondly, the metaphor is not only just but beautiful in itself, but it is common in profane writers. In this manner ^Emilius Paulus, to show that he had hardly escaped the rage of the populace during his first consulship, says, that he escaped a popular conflagraliov , in which he was half burnt. In like manner Ci- cero, speaking of the miseries of life, says, that it would be better not to be bom, but that if we have the niislorliuie to be born, llie most 06 THE DIFFERENT METHODS [Ser. LXIV. advantageous Uiing is to die soon, and to flco from the hands of fortune as from a conjlagra- Hon. Thirdly, tho metaphor in the text is common in otiicr i)art8 of Scripture, as in Amos, "I have overliirown some of you, as God over- threw Sodom and Gomorrah, and ye were as a firebrand phicked out of tlie burning," chap, iv. n. Tlie apostle Jude adopts the same figure, and says, "save others witli fear, pull- ing them out of the fire," ver. 13. By establishing the true sense of tlie text on solid grounds, 1 think we have suiliciently re- futed all erroneous opinions concerning it, and yet there are two, which for different reasons 1 cannot help mentioning. The first is the opinion of those, who think the apostle meant by the fire in the text the destruction of Jerusalem. This opinion has an air of probability, yet I do not tliink it certain. The time of the destruction of Jeru- salem is often called in Scripture, as well as the time of tho final judgment, that day, the day of the Lord, and the calamities of the day are represented under the idea of fire, and literally speaking, firo did make sad rayages in Jerusalem and in the temple. However there is a deal of perplexity in the paraphrase given of the text by such as are of this opinion. This is it, exactly as we have transcribed it from a celebrated scholar. " The fire of the destruc- tion of Jerusalem will prove whether the doc- trines of your teachers be those of tiie gospel, or whether they be foreign notions. He whose doctrine will abide this trial, shall receive a reward: but he whose doctrine will not abide it, will lose the fruitof his ministerial labours." We said this opinion was probable: but we cannot say so with the least shadow of truth of the opinion of some of the church of Rome, who pretended that the apostle speaks here of the fire of purgatory. Because, suppose purgatory were taught in other passages of Scripture, which we are very far from granting, great violence must be done to this text to find the doctrine here; for on supposition the apostle speaks of purgatory, what do these words mean? Tlie fire of pur- gatory siiall try the doctrines of the ministers of the gospel, so that substantial doctrines, and vain doctrines shall be alike tried by this fire! Because St. I'aul says here of this fire tilings directly opposite to tho idea which tiio church of Koine forms of purgatory. They exempt saints of tho first order, and in this class St. Paul certainly holds one of tho most eminent places: but our apostle, far from thinking him- self safe from such a "trial by fire" as he speaks of in tile text, expressly says, "every man's work" shall be tried, that is the work of minis- ters wiio shall have built on tlie foundation "gold, silver, precious stones," shall be tried, as well as tliat of other ministers, who shall have built on the foundation " wood and Btubble." But the chief reason for our rejecting the comment uf the cluircli of Home is the nature of the (ioclrine itself, in proof of which tiiey bring the text. A iiolorodox doctrine, which enervates the great sacrifice tjiat Jesus Christ offered on tlie cross for tlie siii.s of mankind; a doctrine directly opposite to a great number ol' passages of Scripture, which tell us that " there is no condemnation to them that are in Clirist Jesus, that " he that believeth is passed from death unto life," that when " tiie righteous dieth, he is taken from the evil to come, and shall enter into pe.ace," lloin. viii. 1; John v. -1; and Isa. Ivii. 1, -. A doctrine founded on a thousand visions and fabulous tales, more fit for times of pagan darkness than days of evan- gelical light; a sordid doctrine that evidently owes its being to tliat base interest, which it nourishes with jjrofusion, luxury, and extrava- gance; a barbarous doctrine, whicii produces in a dying man a dreadful expectation of pass- ing from the agonies of dying to whole ages of greater agony in flames of fire. IV. Let us now proceed to examine with what eye we ought to consider tiie three sorts of preachers, of which the apostle speaks, and so apply the subject to practice. Tiie first are such as " lay another foundation" besides that which is laid. The second are those who " build on the foundation," laid by the master- builder, " wood, hay, and stubble." The third are such as build on the same fomidation " gold, silver, and precious stones." Thanks be to God we have no other con- cern with the first of these articles except that whicli compassion obliges us to take for the wickedness of such teachers, and the blindness of their hearers! What a strange condition is that of a man who employs his study, his reading, his medi- tation, his labours, his public and private dis- courses to subvert the foundations of that edi- fice which Jesus Christ came to erect among mankind, and wliich he has cemented with his blood! What a doctrine is that of a man, who presumes to call liimself a guide of conscience, a pastor of a flock, an interpreter of Scripture, and who gives only false directions, who poi- sons tho souls committed to his care, and dark- ens and tortures the word of God! Jesus Christ, to confound the glosses of the false teachers of his time, said, " ye have heard tiiat it was said by them of old time" so and so: " but 1 say unto you" otherwise. The teachers, of whom I speak, use another language, and tliey say, you have heard that it was said by Jesus Christ, so and so: but I say to you otherwise. You have heard that it was said by Jesus Christ, " Search the Scriptures:" but 1 say to you, that tiio Scriptures are danger- ous, and that only one order of men ougiit to see them. You have heard, that it has been said in the inspired writings, " prove all things:" but I say unto you, it is not for you to examine, but to submit. You iiavo heard that it hiis been said by Jesus Christ, tiiat " the rulers over the Gentiles exercise lordship over them, but it shall not be so among you." But I say unto you, that the pontiff' has a right to domi- neer not only over tiio Gentiles, but even over those who rule them. You have heard tiiat it has been said, " blessed are the dead which die in tlic Lord," that the soul of Lazarus " was carried by the angels into Ai)rahaiirs bosom:" but I, I say unto you, that llie dead pa.ss from the miseries of this life, only into incompara- bly greater miseries in the flames of purgatory. If this disposition bo deplorable considered in itself, it becomes much more 80 by attending Ser. LXIV.] OF PREACHERS. 97 to the motives lliat produce it. Someliiiies it is ignorance, wliich makes people sincerely crawl in the thickest darkness, amidst the finest opportunities of oi)taining liyht. Sonietinies it is obstinacy, which impels people to maintain, for ever to maintain, what they have once af- firmed. Sometimes it is pride, that will not acknowledge a mistake. Sonieliincs it is in- terest, which fixes them in a conmmnion that opens a path to riches and grandeurs, benefices and mitres, an archiépiscopal throne and a tri- ple crown. Always, it is negligence of the great salvation, which deserves all our pains, vigilance the most exact, and sacrifices the most difficult. My brethren, let us acknowledge tJie favour conferred on us by Providence in delivering us from these errors. Let us bless the happy days of the Reformaticjn, in which our socie- ties were built on the foundation laid by Jesus Christ and his apostles. Let us never disho- nour it by an irregular life. Let us never re- gret the sacrifices we have made to it. Let us be always ready to make more. We liavc al- ready, many of us, given up our establishments, our fortunes, and our country; let us give up our passions, and, if it be requisite, our lives. Let us endeavour to perpetuate and extend it, let us defend it by our prayers, as well as by our labour and vigilance. Let us pray to God for this poor people, from whose eyes a fiital bandage hides the light of truth. Let us pray for such of our brethren as know it, but have not courage to profess it. Let us pray for those poor children, who seem as if they must re- ceive it with their first nourishment, because their parents know it: but who do not yet know it, and who perhaps, alas! will never know it. If our incessant prayers for them continue to be rejected; if our future efforts to move in their favour the compassion of a mer- ciful God, be without success, as our former efforts have been; if our future tears, like our former sorrows, be in vain, yet we will exclaim, "O Lord, liow long! O wall of tiie daughter of Zion, let tears run down like a river day and night, give thyself no rest, let not the apple of thine eye cease! O ye that make mention of the Lord, keep not silence, and give him no rest, till he establish, and till he make Jeru- salem a praise in the eartli," Rev. vi. 10; Lament, ii. 18; and Isa. Ivii. 6, 7. It is not the limit prescribed to this sermon, that forbids my detailing the two remaining articles: but a reason of another kind. I fear, should 1 characterize the two kinds of doc- trines, which are !)olh built on the foundation, but whicli, however, are not of ecpial value, I myself should lay another foundation. The religion of Jesus C'hrist is founded on love. Jesus Christ is love. The virtue which he most of all reconmiended to his disciples, is love. I appeal here to those, who have some ideas of remnants of divisions yet amongst us. How can I, without rekindling a fire hid under em- bers, and which we have done all in our power entirely to extinguish, show the vanity of dif- ferent classes of divers doctrines of tcood, hay, and stiibble.f In a first class, it would be necessary to expose a ministry spent in questions of mere Vol.. Ii.— L3 curiosity, and to contrast it with that which is cm])loycd only to give that clear knowledge, and full demonstration of the great truths of religion of which they are capable. in the second class, it would bo necessary to contrast discourses of simple sj)eculation tend- ing only to exercise the mind with such prac- tical discourses as tend to sanctify the heart, to regulate the life, to render the child obedi- ent to his jiarent, and the parent kind and equi- t.il.le to his child, the subject submissive to the laws of his rulers, and tlic ruler attentive to the hait])iness of the subjects, the rich charita- ble, and the jioor humble and patient. In the third clasa, I should be obliged to con- sider some i)roductions of disordered minds, fancies attributed to the Spirit of God, charg- ing religion with the tinsel of the marvellous, more |)roper to divert children than to satisfy incpiisitive minds, and to contrast these with the productions of men who never set a .step without the light of the gospel in their hands and infallible truth for their guide. In a fourth class, we ought to contrast those miserable sophisms which pretend to support truth with the arms of error, and include with- out scruple whatever favours, and whatever seems to favour the cause to be maintained, with clear ideas, close reasonings, and natural conclusions, such as a preacher brings, who knows how to weigh in a just balance trulli and falsehood, probability and proof, conjecture and demonstration. In the fifth class, I should have to lay open the superficial ideas, sometimes low and vul- gar, of a man without either elevation or pene- tration, and to contrast them with the dis- courses of such happy geniuses as soar up to God, even to the inaccessible God. All these dissimilitudes it would be my duty to show: but I will not proceed, and I make a sacrifice to charity of all the details which the subject would bear. I will not even describe the miseries which are denounced against such as build hay and stubble on the foundation of the gospel, nor the unhappiness of those, who shall be found at last to have preferred such doctrines before the " gold, silver, and precious stones," of which the apostle speaks. Let them weigh this expression of the holy man, "he shall be saved, yet so as by fire." Let the first think of the account they must give of their ministry, and the second of the use they have made of their time, and of their superstitious docility. I would rather offer you objecta more at- tracting, and urge motives more tender. We told you at the beginning of this discourse that your duties. Christian people, have a close con- nexion with ours, and we may add, our desti- nation is closely connected with yours. What will be the destiny of such as shall have built on the foundations of Clu-istianity " gold, silver, and precious stones?" What will be the destiny of those, who shall have exer- cised such a ministry? What will be the des- tiny of such as have incorporated themselves with it' Ah! my brethren, I place my hap- pines.s and glory in not being able fully to an- swer this question. I congratulate myself for not being able to find images lively enough to represent the pomp, with which I hope, my 98 THE DEEP TIIlNGri OF GOD. [Ser. LXV. most beluved auditors, you will one day be adorned. Yet I love to conteiii[ilate tliat great day, in which the work of iailiiful ministers, and faithful Christians will be made manifest by fire. 1 love to fill my mind with the day, in which God will " come to be fflorificd in his saints, and admired in all them that believe," 2 Thess. i. 10; when he shall call to the hea- vens " from above, and to the earth, that he may judge his ])eoi>le," Ps. I. 4, saying, " (ia- ther my saints together unto me, those that have made a covenant with me b}' sacrifice," ver. 6. I love to satiate my soul witli ideas of the redeemed of every kindred, and tongue, and people, and nation, in company witii ten thousand times ten thousand, and thousands of thousands of angels, llev. v. f). 11. At the head of this august body 1 see three chiefs. The first is " Jesus Christ, the author and finisher of our faith," lieb. xii. 2. I sec this divine leader presenting himself before his father with his wounds, his cross, and his blood, and saying, " feather, I liave finished the work wliich tiiou gavest nie to do. And now, O Father, glorify thou me with thine own self, witii the glory which I had with tliee before the world was," John xvii. 4, 5. Having glorified the head, glorify the members, save my peo[)le. Then will the eternal Father crown such just and holy petitions with success. Then will be accomplished in regard to Jesus Christ this niogniticent promise, " Ask of me and 1 shall give thee the heathen for thine inheritance, and the uttermost ])arts of the earth for tliy posses- sion," Ps. ii. 8. Such as oppose thine empire govern " with a rod of iron, and dash them in pieces like a potter's vessel:" but enter thou unto thy kingdom with thy subjects, thy saints, thy well beloved, and share with them thy glorious inheritance. The second leaders are prophets, evangelists, and apostles, ap()earing before God with tlie conquests they made, the nations they convert- ed, the persecutions they endured for tlie love of God and his gospel. Then will the promises made to these holy men be acconiplislied, " they that turn many to righteousness shall siiine as the stars for ever and ever. When the Son of man shall sit in the throne of his glory, yc also shall sit upon twelve thrones, judging the twelve tribes of Israel," Daniel xii. 4; Matt. xix. 28. The third will be such ministers as h.ive been "followers of tlie apostles even as they also were of Clirist." I think 1 see these ministers humbled for their faults, convinced of their frailly, im[)loring the divine mercy for the blemisiies of their ministry: l)ut yet witii that humble confidence which the compassion of God allows, and saying, behold us, the doc:- trine we have preached, the minds wo have informed, the wanderers we have reclaimed, and with the hearts vviiich we have had tiie honour of animating with thy love. What, in tliat great day, what will bo your destiny. Christian people? Will yours be the hearts which we shall have animated with divine love, or those from whicli wo never could b.inisii the love of tlie world? Shall you be among tlie backsliders whom we siiall have reclaimed, or among such as shall have persisted in sin? Shall yours be the minds wc have enlightened, or among those who shall have Iain in darkness and ignorance? Ah! My brethren, the first of our wishes, the most aflectionate of our jirayers, our secret meditations, our public discourses, whatever we undertake, whatever we are, we consecrate to prepare you for that great day. " What is our hope, or joy, or crown of rejoicing? Are not even ye in tlie presence of our Lord Jesus Christ at his coming? Ye are our glory and our joy," 1 Thess. ii. 19, 20. To God be honour and praise for ever and ever. Amen. SERMON LXV. THE DEEP THINGS OF GOD. IIOMANS xi. 3. tlic depth of the riches, both of the wisdom and knowledge of God! How unsearchable are his judgments, and his ways past finding out! One of the principal causes of the depravity of mankind is, that they form mean ideas of God. The idea of the God we adore, and the notion of the morality we ought to practise, are two things closely connected together. If we consider God as a being elevated, great and sublime, our morality will be great, sublime, and elevated too. If, on the contrary, we con- sider God as a being whose designs are narrow, whose power is limited, and whose plans are partial, we shall practise a morality adapted to such an imaginary God. My bretlnen, there are two very différent ways of forming this sublime idea, which has such an iiitluence over religion and morality. 'I'he magnificence of God may be imderslood by what is known of God, by the things that are made, by the brilliancy of the sun, by the extent of the firmanieiil, and by all the various creatures which we behold; and judging of the workman by the work, we shall exclaim in sight of so many wonderful works, " O Lord, how excellent is thy name in all the earth! Tiiou hast set thy glory above the heavens. When I consider thy heavens, the work of thy fingers, the moon and the stars which thou hast ordained, what is man, that thou art mindful of him? And the son of man that thou visitcst him?" Rom. i. 19, 20; Ps. Iviii. I, itc. But there is another way to know the mag- nificence of God, a way less accessible indeed, but more noble, and even more plain to the man, the eyes of whose understanding are en- lightened, Kph. i. IS, that is, to judge of God, not by the things that are seen, but by the things that are not seen, not by what we know, but by what we do not know. In tliis sublime way the soul loses itself in a depth of divine inagnificcnce, like the seraphims, covers its face before the majesty of God, and exclaims with the prophet, "verily thou art a God that hidest thyself," Isa. xlv. 15. "The secret things belong unto the Lord our God, but those tliing.s which arc revealed belong to us, and to our children for ever," Dcut. xxix. 29. It is on this otecuro side, that wo propose to show you the Deity to-day. Darkness will serve us for light, and the iin- Ser. LXV.] THE DEEP THINGS OF GOD. 99 penetrable depll» of liis decrees will fill our minds with sound and practical knowledge. " O the depth of the riches both of the wisdom and knowledge of God! How unsearchable are his judgments, and his ways past finding out!" In order to enter into the mind of the apostle, it is necessary to observe the subject to which he aj)plics the text, and never to lose sight of the design of this whole e|)istle. The apostle chiefly proposes to counteract a scandalous schism in the church of Rome. This church was composed of two sorts of Christians, some converts from Judaism, others from Paganism. The Jews considered the Gentiles with con- tempt, as they always had been accustomed to consider foreigner. For their parts, they thought they had a natural right to all the l»encfits of the Messiah, because, being born Jews, they were the legitimate heirs of Abra- ham, to whom the promise was made, whereas tlic Gentiles partook of these benefits only by mere favour. St. Paul attacks this prejudice, proves that Jews and Gentiles, being all alike tinder .«n, had all an equal need of a covenant «f grace-, tliat both derived their calling from the mercy of God; that no one was rejected as a Gentile, or admitted as a Jew: but that they only should share the salvation published by the Messiah who had been elected in the eternal decrees of God. The Jews could not relish such hmnbling ideas, nor accommodate this doctrine to the prerogatives of their nation; and much less could they admit the system of the apostle on predestination. St. Paul em- p4oys the chapter from which we have taken our text, and the two chapters before to remove their diflieulties. He turns himself, so to speak, on every side to elucidate the subject. He reasons, proves, argues; but after he has heaped proofs upon proofs, reasonings upon rea.sonings, and solutions upon solutions, he acknowledges, in the words of the text, that he glories in falling beneath his subject. In some sense he classes himself with the most ignorant of his readers, allows that he has not received a sulHciont measure of the Spirit of God to enable him to fathom such depths, and he exclaims on the brink of this great profound, " O the depth of the riches both of the wisdom and knowledge of God! How unsearchable arc his judgments, and his ways past finding out!" The apostle therefore wrote these words of the "deep things of God" ciiietly with a view to the conduct of God with regard to such as ho appoints to glory, and such as he leaves in perdition. I grant, were this text to be accurately discussed, it ougiit to be considered in regard to these events, and these doctrines; but nothing hinders our examining it in a more extensive view. The apostle lays down a general maxim, and takes occasion from a particular subject to establisli a universal truth, that is, tiiat such is the magnificence of God that it aljsorbs all our thought, and that to attempt to reduce the conduct of God to a level with our frail reason is to be guilty of extreme rashness. | This is what we will -endeavour to prove. | Come, Christians, follow us, and learn to know I yourselves, and to feel your insignificance. We are going, by showing you the Deity in four different views, to open to you four great deeps, and to give you four rea.sons for exclaim- ing with the apostle, "O the depth!" The four ways in which God reveals himself to man, are four manners to display his perfec- tions, and at the same time they arc four abysses in which our im]terfect reason is lost. These ways are — first, an idea of the Deity — secondly, of nature — thirdly, of Providence — and fourth- ly, of revelation; four ways, if I may venture to speak thus, all shining with light, and yet all covered with adorable darkness. 1. The first mirror in which we contemplate God, and at the same time the first abyss in which our imperfect reason is lost, is the idea we have of ilie (/irin« perfextions. This is a path leading to God, a mirror of the Deity. To prove this, it is not necessary to examine how we came by this idea, whether it be natural or accjuircd, wiicther we derive it from our parents or our tutors, whether the Creator has immediately engraven it on the mind, or whe- ther we ourselves have formed it by a chain of principles and consequences; a question much agitated in the schools, sometimes settled, and sometimes controverted, and on which both sides afiirm many clear and substantial, though opposite propositions. Of myself, 1 am always fully persuaded that I have an idea of a Being supremely excellent, and one of whose perfec- tions I am not able to omit without destroying the essence of the Supreme Being to whom it belongs. I know too that theie must be some- where without me an object answering to my idea; for as I think, and as 1 know I am not the author of the faculty that thinks within me, I am obliged to conclude that a foreign cause has produced it. If this foreign cause is a being that derives its existence from another foreign cause, I am necessarily obliged to proceed from one step to another, and to go on till I find a self-existent being, and this self-existeut being is the infinite Being. I have then an idea of the infinite Being. This idea is not a phantom of my creation, it is the portrait of an original that exists independently of my reflections. This is the first way to the Creator^ this is the first mirror of his perfections. O how long, how infinitely extended is this way! How impossible for the mind to pervade a distance so immense! How obscure is this mirror! How is my soul dismayed when I at- tempt to sail in this inuneasurable ocean! An infamous man, who lived in the beginning of the last century, a man who conceived the most abominable design that ever was, who formed with eleven persons of his own cast a college of infidelity, from whence ho might send his emissaries into all the world to rase out of every mind the opinion of the existence of a God, this man took a very singular me- thod to prove that there was no God, that was to state the general idea of God. He thought, to define was to destroy it, and that to say what God is, was the best way to disprove his exist- ence. " God," said that impious man, " God is a being who exists through infinite ages, and yet is not capable of past or to come, he fills all without being in any place, be is fixed with- out situation, he pervades all without motion, he is good without quality, great without quan- tity, universal without parts, moving all tilings 100 THE DEEP THINGS OF GOD. [Ser. LXV. without being moved himself, his will consti- tutes his power, and his power is confounded with his will, without all, within all, beyond all, before all, and after all."* But though it bo absurd to argue against the existence of God from the eminence of his perfections, yet it is tiie wisdom of man to de- rive from tiiis subject inferences immbling to his proud and infatuated reason. We detest the design of the writer just now mentioned, but we approve of a part of the definition wliich our atheist gives of God. Far from |)retending that such a definition degrades the object of our worsliip from iiis supren)e rank in the scale of beings, it inclines us to pay him the most prolbund lioinage of which creatures are capable, and to lay down our feeble reason before his infinite excellence. Yes, " God is a being who exists through in- finite ages; and yet is not capable of past or to come." The vast number of ages which the rapidity of time has carried away, are as pre- sent to him as this very indivisible moment, and the most distant futurity does not conceal any remote event from his eyes. He unites in one single instant, the past, tlie present, and all periods to como. Ile is by excellence, " I anj that I am.'' He loses iiolliing by ages spent, he acquires nothing by succession. "ïes, " God fills all without being in any place. Ascend up into heaven, he is there. Make your bed in hell, behold he is there. Take the wings of the morning, and dwell in the utter- most part of the sea, even tiiere sliall his hand lead you. Say, surely the darkness sliall cover me, even the night shall be light about you," Ps. cxxxix. S, &c. Yet he has no place, and the quality by which our bodies are enclosed in these walls, and adjusted with the particles of air that surround us, cannot agree with his spi- rituality. " God pervades all without mo- tion." The quickness of lightning, which in an instant pas.ses from east to west, cannot equal the rapidity witli which his intelli- gence ascends to the highest heavens, descends to the deepest abysses, and visits in a moment all parts of the universe. Yet he is immovea- ble, and does not quit one phice to be present in another, but abides with his disciples on earth, while he is in heaven, in the centre of felicity and glory. " His will constitutes his power, and his power does not differ from his * The book from wliicli our aullior i|Uo(eiJ llic nbmp p:iss»t;e, is eiititlid Amjnlheatrum aelcrntie ]rroviitcn- iiiie —advenus iilhcos, &.c. Lyons. 1015. Svo. Tin: au- thor Vimini was a Atapolitaii, born in l.')8,5. He was (ilucnted at Home, -.mA ordaiiiid a priest at Padua. He travelled into many oountries, and wa» persecuted in ■noit. In 1614 he was imprisoned in England for forty- nine days. .\ltt'r his enlargement he became a monk in (Juicnnc. From the convent he was banished fur his im- morality. He found, however, powerful patrons. Marts- chal Bnsiompiere made him his chaplain, and his famous AmpitKenlre was approved by four persons, a doctor of divinity, the vicar general ot Lyons, the king's proctor, and the lieutenant general of Lyons, ill which lliry athrin, " that having read the book, there was nothing in it eon- trary to the Konian Catholic faith," one example of the ignorance or carelessness, with which licensers of the press discharge their oflice, and consequently (uie argu- ment among thousands for the freedom of the press. 'Vnii unfortunate man was cnnilemiied at Thoiilouse to be burnt to death, which srnlenre wa» executed Feb. 19, ltil9. The execution of this cruel sentrncr, cast into logical form, runs thus: Vaniiii denied the being of a God — the parliament of Thoulouae burnt Vanini — therefore (here IS a Ood. will." All creatures in the universe owe their existence to a single act of his will, and a thou- sand new worlds wait only for such an act to spring from nothing and to shine with glory. " God is above all," all being subject to his power. " Within all," all being an emana- tion of his will. " Before all, after all." Stretch thine imagination, frail but haughty creature, try the utmost efforts of thy genius, elevate thy meditations, collect thy thoughts, see whether thou canst attain to comprehend an existence without beginning, a duration without succession, a presence without circum- ference, an immobility without place, and agi- lity without motion, and many other attri- butes which the mind can conceive, but which language is too imperfect to express. See, weigh, calculate, " It is as high as heaven, what canst thou do? Deeper than hell, what canst thou know? Canst thou by searching find out God? Canst thou find out the Al- iniglity unto perfection?" Job ix. 7, 8. Let us then exclaim on the border of this abyss, " O the depth!" II. The second way that leads us to the Creator, and at the same time the second abyss in which our reason is lost, is the works of na- ture. The study of nature is easy, and all the works of nature have a bright and luminous side. In the style of a prophet, " the heavens have a voice, which declare the glory of God:" and, as an apostle expresses it, " creation is a visiiile image of the invisible things of God:" yet there is also a dark obscure side. What a prodigious variety of creatures are there be- yond the sphere of our senses! How many thousands, how many " ten thousand times ten thousand spirits called angels, archangels, che- rubim, seraphim, thrones, dominions, princi- jialilies, and powers," of all which we know not either the properties, the operations, the number, or the employment! What a prodi- gious multitude of stars and suns, and revolv- ing worlds, in comparison of which our earth is nothing but a point, and of all which we know neither the variety, the glory, nor the ap- pointment! How many things are there on earth, plants, minerals, and animals, into the nature and use of which the industry of man could never penetrate! Why so much treasure hid in the depths of the sea? Why such vast countries, such impenetrable forests, and such uninhabited climes as have never been sur- veyed, and the whole of which perhaps will never be discovered? What is the use of some insects, and some monsters, which seem to be a burden to nature, and made only to disfigure it' Why does the Creator deprive man of many rich productions that would be of the greatest advantage to him, while he abandons them to beasts of the field or fishes of the sea, which derive no benefit from them? Whence came rivers, fountains, winds, and tempests, the power of the loadstone, and the ebbing and flowing of the tides? Philosopher! re])ly, or rather avow your ignorance, and acknowledge how deep the ways of your Creator are. But it is but little to humble man to detect his ignorance on these subjects. It is not as- tonishing that he should err in paths so sub- lime, and it is more glorious to him to have at- tempted these impracticable roads, than shame- Ser. LXV.] THE DEEP THINGS OF GOD. lOI ful to have done so without success. There are other objects more proper to humble hu- man reason. Objects in appearance less sub- ject to difficulty absorb the mind of man, when- ever he attempts thoroughly to investigate them. Let him consider himself, and he will lose himself in meditating on his own essence. What is man.' What is tliat soul which thinks and reflecta' What constitutes tiie union of a spirit with a portion of matter? What is that matter to which a spirit is united.' So many questions, so many abysses, so many unfathom- able depths in the ways of the Creator. What is the soul of man? In what docs its essence consist' Is it the power of displaying his faculties;? But then this consequence would follow, that a soul may have the essence of a soul; without having ever thought, reasoned, or reflected, provided it has the power of doing so. Is it the act of thinking? But then it would follow, ti»at a spirit, wiieii it ceases to think, ceases to be a spirit, which seems con- trary to experience. What then is a soul? Is it a collection of successive thoughts? But how can such and such thoughts, not one of which apart is essential to a soul, constitute the essence of it when they are joined together? Is it something distinct from all these? Give us, if it be possible, a clear idea of this subject. What is a soul? Is it a substance immaterial, indivisible, different from body, and which can- not be enveloped in its ruins? Certainly: but when we give you this notion, we ratlier tell you what the soul is not, than what it is. You will say, you remove false notions, but you give us no true and positive ideas; you tell us indeed that spirit is not body, but you do not explain what spirit is, and we demand an idea clear, real, and adequate. As I confound myself by considering the na- ture of my soul, so I am perplexed again when I examine the union of this soul witii tliis body. Let us be informed, by what miracle a sub- stance without extension and without parts, can be united to a substance material and ex- tended? What connexion is there between willing to move and motion? What relation has a trace on the brain to an idea of the mind? How does the soul go in searcii of ideas before ideas present themselves' If ideas present them- selves, wliat occasion for search? To have re- course to the power of God is wise, I grant. when we occupy the chair of a professor, when we make it a law to answer every question, it is easy to talk, and, as the Wise Man expresses it, to " find a great deal to say."* There is an art,, which is called maintaining a thesis, and this art is very properly named, for it does not consist in weighing and solving difficulties, or in acknowledging our ignorance; but in per- sisting to affirm our own position, and obsti- nately to defend it. But when we retire to our studies, coolly meditate, and endeavour to satisfy ourselves, if we have any accuracy of thouglit, we reason in another manner. Eve- ry sincere and ingenuous man must acknow- ledge that solidity, weight, light, and extent, are subjects, on which many very curious, and very finely imagined things have been said, but which to this day leave the mind almost in as nnich uncertainty as before. Thus the sub- lime genius, this author of so many volumes, this consummate philosopher cannot explain what a grain of dust is, so that one atom, one single atom, is a rock fatal to all his philoso- pliy, against it all his science is dashed, ship- wrecked, and lost. Let us conclude that nature, this mirror de- scriptive of God, is dark and obscure. This is emphatically expressed by two inspired writers, the apostle Paul and holy Job. The first says, " God hath made all nations of men, the earth, the appointed seasons, and the bounds of men's habitation, that they should seek the Lord, if haply they might feel after him and find him," Acts xvii. 26. 29. "This is both a passable road to God, and an unfathomable abyss." " That they might seek the Lord;" this is a way leading to God. " That they might find him by feeling after him;" this is the abyss. In like manner Job describes in lively colours the mul- titude and variety of tiie works of the Creator, and finishes by acknowledging, that all we know is nothing in comparison of what we are ignorant of. " He stretched out the north over the empty place, and hangeth the earth upon notiiing. fie hath compassed the waters with bounds. The pillars of heaven tremble, and are a^onished at his reproof He divideth the sea with his power. By his spirit he hath gar- nisiied the heavens, his hand hath formed the crooked serpent." Yet "these are only part of his ways!" Job xxvi. 7, &c. Weigh these expressions well. This firmament, this earth, if we avail ourselves of tiiis answer to avoid these waters, these pillars of heaven, this bound- our i-rnorance; but if we use it to cover that, I less space, the sun with its light, heaven with if we pretend to explain every thing by saying God is omnipotent, and can do all these things, we certainly deceive ourselves. It is to say, I know nothing, in philosophical terms, and when, it siiould seem, we atfect to say, I per- fectly understand it. In fine, I demand an explication of the hu- man body. What am I saying? the human body! I take the smallest particle of it; I take only one atom, one little grain of dust, and I give it to be examined by all the schools, and all the universities in the world. This atom has extent, it may be divided, it is capable of motion, it reflects light, and every one of these properties furnishes a thousand and a thousand questions, which tlie greatest philosophers can never answer. My bretliren, when we arc in the schools, its stars, the earth with its plants, the sea with its fish, these, "lo, these are only parts of his ways, but how little a portion is heard of him!" The glorious extent of his power who can un- derstand! Let us then, placed as we are on the borders of the works of nature, humbly exclaim, " O tiie depth!" III. Providence is the third path to God, and affords us new motives to adore his perfections: but which also confounds the mind, and makes ' Hkclcs. vii. 29. The English translation of this text is, man lias sought out many inventions. The French Bible reads, Ont cherche beaucoup de descours, that is, mankind has found out agreat many questions to ask, and a great many sophisms to affirm on this subject; or in other words, a great deal to say concerning the original rectitude of man. The original vague terms are ren- dered by some critics, Ipse se infinitet nuieumt quaes- tionibus. 102 THE DEEP THINGS OF GOD. [Ser. LXV. us feel th&t God is no less incomprehensible in his manner of governing the world than in that of creating it. It would be easy to prove tliis, if time would allow us to examine the secret way, which Providence uses to govern this uni- verse. Let us be content to cast our eyes a moment on the conduct of Providence in the government of the church for the last century and a half Who would have thought that in a neigh- bouring kingdom a cruel and superstitious king,* the greatest enemy that tlie Reformation ever had, he, who by tiic fury of his arms and by tiie productions of his pen, opposed tiiis great work, refuting those whom he could not perse- cute, and persecuting those whom he could not refute, who would have thought that this mo- narch should first serve the work he intended to subvert, clear the way for reformation, and by shaking off the yoke of the Roman pontiff execute tiie plan of Providence, while he seemed to do nothing but satiate his voluptuousness and ambition? Who would have thouglit that the ambitious Clement,! to maintain some chimerical rights, which the pride of the clergy had forged, and which the cowardice of the pcojjle and the effeminacy of their princes had granted, who would have believed, tiiat this ambitious pope, by hurling the thunders of the Vatican against this king, would have lost all that great kingdom, and thus would have given the first stab to a tyranny, which he intended to confirm? Who would have imagined that Zuinglius ^yould have had such amazing success among the people in the world the most inviolably at- tached to the customs of their predecessors, a people scrupulously retaining even the dress of their ancestors, a people above all so inimical to innovations in religion, that they will hardly bear a new explication of a passage of Scripture, a new argument, or a modern critical remark, who would have supposed, that they could liave been persuaded to embrace a religion diametri- cally opposite to that which they had imbibed with their mothers' milk? • Who would have believed that Luther could have surmounted the obstacles that opposed the success of his preaching in Germany, and that the proud emperor,J vvlio reckoned among iiis captives pontiffs and kings, could not subdue one miserable monk? Who would have thought that the barbarous tribunal of the inquisition, which had enslaved 80 many nations to superstition, should have been in tlieso provinces one of the principal causes of our reformation? And perhaps tlie dark nigiit, which now en- velops one part of tlio clmrch, will issue in a bright morning. Perhaps they, who in future time speak of Providence, will have reason to add to a catalogue of the deep tilings of divine government, tiie manner in which God shall have delivered tiic truth oppressed in a king- dom, where it once flourished in vigour and beauty. Perhaps tiie repeated blows given to the reformed may serve only to establish the reformation. But we abridge this tiiird article, * Heiirv VIII. orUnglaiid. f Charic» V. t Pope Clement VII. and proceed to the fourth, in which wo are to treat of the depllis of revelation. IV. Siiall we produce the mortifying list of unanswerable questions, to which many doc- trines of our religion are liable; as for example those which regard the Trinity, tlie incarnation, the satisfaction, tlie union of two natures in Je- sus Christ, the secret ways of the Holy Spirit in converting tiie souls of men, tlie precise na- ture of the liai)piiiess to be enjoyed in the inter- mediate state between our deatii and our resur- rection, tlie faculties of glorified bodies, the recollection of wliat we shall iiave seen in this world, and many more of tlie same kind? All lliis would carry us too far from the prin- cipal design of tlie apostle. It is time to return to the precise subject, which inspired him with this exclamation. The words of the text are, as wo have intimated, the conclusion of a dis- course contained in the ninth, tenth, and ele- venth chapters of this epistle. Those chapters are tlie cross of divines. The questions there treated of concerning the decrees of God are so abstruse, that in all ages of the church, and particularly since the schism of Pelagius, di- vines, orthodox and heterodox, have employed all their efforts to give us a system free from difficulties, and they have all failed in their design. To enable you to comprehend this, we are going succinctly to state their different systems; and the_ short view we shall take will bo suffi- cient toiconvince you, that the subject is beyond the reacii of the human mind, and tiiat thougli the opinion of our churches has this advantage above otiiers, that it is more conformable to right reason, and to tlie decisions of Scripture, yet it is not without its abysses and deptlis. Let us begin with tlie system of Socinus and his followers. God, according to tliem, not only has not determined the salvation of his children, but he could not even foresee it. Whatever man resolves depends on his own volition, and whatever depends on human vo- lition cannot be an object of the knowledge of God, so tliat God could not foresee whether I should believe or not believe, whether 1 should obey or not obey, wlietiier I should receive the gospel or reject it. God made no otlier decree than tliat of saving such as believe, oliey, and submit to his gospel: these tilings depend on my will, what depends on my will is uncertain, an uncertain object cannot be an object of certain knowledge: God therefore cannot certainly foresee, whether my condition will be eternally happy, or eternally miserable. Tliis is the system. Thanks bo to God, we preacii to a Cliristian auditory. It is not ne- cessary to refute these errors, and you feel, I persuade myself, tliat to reason in this manner is not to elucidate, but subvert religion; it is at once to degrade CJod from his deity, and Scrip- ture from its infallibility. This system degrades God, for what, pray, is a God, wlio created beings, and who could not foresee what would result from their existence? .\ God who formed spirits united to bodies by certain laws, and wlio did not know how to combine these laws so as to foresee tlic effects they would produce? A God forced to suspend his judgment' A God who every day learns something new, and who docs not know to-day Ser. LXV.] THE DEEP THINGS OF GOD. 103 what will happen to-morrow. A God who can- not tell whether jjoace will bo concluded, or war continue to ravage the world; whether re- ligion will be received in a certain kingdom, or whether it will bo banished; whether tiie right heir will succeed to the crown, cfr whether the crown will ho set on the head of a usurper? For according to tiie dill'oreut determinations of the wills of men, of kings, or people, the prince will make peace, or declare war, religion will be banisiicd or admitted, the tyrant or the law- ful king will occupy the throne: for if God cannot foresee how the volitions of men will be determined, ho cannot foresee any of these «vents. What is this but to degrade God from his Deity, and to make the most perfect of all intelligences a being involved in darkness and uncertainty like ourselves. Farther, to deny the presence of God is to degrade Scripture from its infallil)ility, for how can we pretend to respect Scripture when we deny that God knows tiio determinations, and volitions of mankind? What then are wo to understand by all the express declarations on this subject' For example, what does the psalmist mean? " O God, thou hast searched and known me. Thou knowest my down- sitting and up-rising, thou understandest my thoughts afar off. Thou art acquainted with all my ways, for there is not a word in my tongue but thou knowest it altogether," Ps. cxxxix. 1, &.C. What means God himself, speaking by Ezekiel? " Tiius saitii the Lord to tiie house of Israel, I know the thoughts that came into your mind every one of them," chap. xi. 5. And again by Isaiah; " I know that thou wouldst deal very treacherously," chap, xlviii. 8. What did St. Peter mean? speaking of his own thoughts, he said, " Lord, thou knowest all things," John xxi. 17. What does tlie Wise Man mean, who assures us, not only tiiat God knows the hearts of kings, but that he has them " in his hand, and turneth them whithersoever he pleaseth as rivers of water!" Prov. xxi. 1. Above all, how can this principle be recon- ciled to many express prophecies of events which being closely connected witii the volitions of men could not have been certainly foretold, unless God at the time had a certain knowledge of these determinations? " The prescience of God," says Tertullian, " has as many witnesses as there are prophets and prophecies."* Had not God foreseen that Jesus Clirist would preach the gospel in Judea, that the Jews wo\ild hate him, tiiat they would deliver him to Pilate, that they would solicit his death, that Pilate would have the meanness and pusillanimity to yield to their entreaties; had not God known all these things, how could he iiave predicted theuL' Hut the men we oppose do not much respect the decisions of Scripture. The principle to which all this system tends, is, that reason is to decide on the duclrines of Scripture, and not that the doctrines of Scripture are to direct reason. Tliis principle once granted, all the doctrines of our faitli are subverted, as expe- rience proves. See into what riush declarations this principle had conducted Socinus and his followers. What decision of Scripture, what doctrine of faith, what trulii however esta- blished, repeated, and enforced, has it not ' lo his 6CC0Q<1 book againsl Marciou. allured them to deny? The bondage of the ho- man will seems to destroy the nature of man; this bondage nmst he denied. But the doctrine of absolute decrees seems to disagree with the liberty of man: these absolute decrees must be denied. But the foreknowledge of God cannot be allowed without the doctrine of decrees-, the foreknowledge of God must bo denied. But a thousand prophecies prove this prescience; the mystical sense of these prophecies most be de- nied. But Jesus Christ has verified them: then Jesus Christ must be denied his titles, his at- tributes, his works, his worship, his satisfaction, his divinity, his union to God, his incarnation, must all be denied: he must be made a mere man, a prophet, a teacher, distinguished from others only by some extraordinary talents: the whole system of the gospel of salvation, and of redemption must be denied. To follow these ideas, my brethren, is to tumble from precipice to precipice without knowing where we shall stop. We propose in the second place the system of our brethren of the confession of Augsburgh, and that of Arminius; for though they differ in other articles, yet they both agree pretty nearly in this point. Their system is this. They grant foreknowledge; but deny foreap- pointment. They allow indeed that God al- ways foresaw who would bo happy in heaven, and who victims in hell; but they tremble at the thesis, which affirms that God predestinated the first to felicity, and the last to misery. Ac- cording to them, God made no other decree than to save believers, and to condemn infidels; he gave all men assistance sufficient to enable them to believe, and having only foreseen who would believe, and who would not believe, he made no decree to secure the faith of some, and the unbelief of the rest. Although it is never our custom to envenom controversy, and to tax people with heresy for not being of our opinion; though we would rather reconcile opposite opinions than triumph in refuting them; yet we cannot help making three reflections. First, this system does not agree with itself — secondly, it is directly oppo- site to many decisions of the Holy Spirit, and particularly to the doctrine of the three chap- ters before us — and thirdly, should we grant the whole, a thousand difficulties would re- main in the doctrine of the decrees of God, and we should always be obliged to exclaim, as these brethren must on this article, " O the depth!" 1 . We affirm, that this system is inconsist- ent with itself, that the doctrine of prescience supposes that of predestination, and tiiat un- less we deny that God foresaw our salvation, we are obliged by our own thesis to affirm that he predestinated us to it. I grant there is a sense, in which it is true that to foresee a thing is different from determining to bring it to pass: but there is another sense, in which to foresee and foreappoint is one and the same thing. If I foresee that a prince sending arm- ed troops into the house of the widow and or- piian will expose that house to pillage, it is certain, my foresight has no influence in the fate of tliat house, and in this ca.se to foresee the act of plundering is not a deiermiiialion to plunder. But if the prince foresee the event. 1«4 THE DEEP THINGS OF GOD. [Ser. LXV. if he know the rage and fury with whicli his soldiers are animated, if he knew by experi- ence that in such conjectures they have com- mitted such crimes, if, in spite of this pre- science, he send his madmen into this house, if he allow them their armour, if he lay them under no restraint, if he do not appoint any superior officer to bridle their fury, do you not tliink, my brethren, that to foresee and to re- solve this case are in him one and the same thing? Apply these reflections to our subject. Let us suppose that before the creation of this world God had subsisted alone, with one other spirit such as you please to imagine. Suppose, when God had formed the plan of the world, he had communicated it to this spirit that sub- sisted with him. Suppose, that God who formed the plan, and the intelligence to whom he had communicated it, had both foreseen that some men of this world would be saved and others lost; do you not perceive, that there would have been an essential difterence be- tween the prescience of God, and the prescience of the spirit we have imagined? The fore- knowledge of this last would not have had any influence either over the salvation, or destruc- tion of mankind, because this spirit would have foreknown, and that would have been all. but is not the foreknowledge of God of another kind? Is that a speculative, idle, and uninflu- ential knowledge? He not only foresaw, but he created. He not only foresaw that man be- ing free would make a good or ill use of his liberty, but he gave him that liberty. To fore- see and to foreappoint in God is only one and the same thing. If indeed you only mean to affirm, by saying, that these are two different acts, that God does no violence to his crea- tures, but that notwithstanding his prescience, the one hardens himself freely, and the other believes freely: if this be all you mean, give us the right hand of fellowship, for this is ex- actly our system, and we have no need to as- perse one another, as both hold the same doc- trine. There is a second inconvenience in the sys- tem of bare prescience, that is, that it does not square with Scripture, which clearly establishes the doctrine of predestination. We omit many passages usually ijuoted in this controversy; as that Jesus Christ said to his father, " I thank thee, O Father, that thou hast hid these things from the wise and prudent, and hast revealed them unto babes. Even so. Father, for so it seemed good in thy sight," Matt. \i. 25. And this of St. Paul, " God hath chosen us in him before the foundation of the world, having pre- destinated us to the adoption of sons," Eph. i. 4. As tiiis famous ])assage, " whom he did foreknow them he did predestinate, and whom he did predestinate them he also called," Ilom. viii. 28, 29. We omit all these passages because our op- ponents dispute the sense wc give of them, and becau.se it is but justice either to hear and an- swer their objections (which the limits of these exorcises will not allow) or not to make use of them, for that would lie taking for granted what is not allowcul, that is, tliat these jias- sagcs speak of predcstiMntinn in our .sense of the term. Let us content ourselves to oppose against the doctrine of prescience without pre- destination these three chapters in Romans, of which the text is the close. I am aware of what is objected. It is said that we make phantoms to combat, that the meaning of St. Paul is clear, that the end he had in view puts the matter out of doubt, and that his end has no relation to absolute decrees much less did ho design to establish them. The apostle had laid down this position, that the gospel would hereafter be the only econo- my of salvation, and consequently that an ad- herence to the Levitical institution would be fatal. The Jews object to this, for they could not comprehend how an adherence to a divine institution could lead to perdition. St. Paul answers these complaints, by telling tliem tliat God had a right to annex his grace to what conditions he tliought proper, and that the Jews, having rejected the Messiah who brought salvation to them, had no reason to complain, because God had deprived them of a covenant, the conditions of which they had not perform- ed. According to these divines this is all tlie mystery of these chapters, in which say they, there is no trace of predestination. But how can this be supposed to contain the whole design of the apostle? Suppose a Jew should appear in this auditory, and make these objections against us. You Christians form an inconsistent idea of God. God said, the Mo- saical worship should be eternal: but you say God has abolished it. God said, "he tliat doth these things shall live by them;" but you say, that he who does these things shall go in- to endless perdition for doing them. God said, the Messiah should come to the children of Abraham; but you say, he has cast off the posterity of the patriarch, and made a cove- nant with Pagan nations. Suppose a Jew to start these difficulties, and suppose we would wish simply to remove them, independently of the decrees we imagine in God, what should we say to this Jew? We should tell him first, that he had mistaken the sense of the law; and that the eternity promised to the Levitical economy signified only a duration till the ad- vent of the Messiah. Particularly we should infonn him that his complaints against the Messiah were groundless. You complain, wo should say, that God makes void his fidelity by abandoning you, but your complaint is unjust. God made a covenant with your fa- thers, he promised to bless their posterity, and engaged to send your Redeemer to bestow numberless benedictions and favours upon you. This Redeemer is come, he w.xs born among you in your nation, of a family in one of your own tribes, he began to discharge his oHice among you, and set salvation before you; you rejected him, you turned his doctrine into ridi- cule, you called him Beelzebub, you solicited his death, at length you crucified him, and since that you have persecuted him in his min- isters and disciples. On the contrary, tlie Gen- tiles display his virtues, and they are ])rodigal of their blood to advance his glory. Is it sur- prising, that God so di.spenses his favours as to distiniruish two nations so very different in the manner of their obedience to his authority? Instead of this, what docs St. PauP Hear his answers. " Before the children were born, Ser. LXV.] THE DEEP THINGS OF GOD. 105 before thej had done either good or evil, that the purpose of God according to election niigiit stand, he saith, the elder sliall serve tlie younger. Jacob have I loved, but Esau have I hated. I will have mercy on whom I will have mercy, and I will have compassion on whom I will have compassion. The Scripture saith to Pharaoh, for this purpose have I raised thee up that I might make my power known. He hath mercy on whom he will have mercy, and whom he will he hardeneth. Wlio art thou who rcpliest against God? Shall the thing formed say to him that formed it, why hast thou made me thus? Hath not the potter power over the clay, of the same lump to make one vessel to honour, and another to dishonour? "What if God willing to show his wrath, and make his power known, endures with much long-suffering the vessels of wrath prepared to destruction?" Rom. ix. 11, &c. In all these answers, St. Paul has recourse to the decrees of God. And one proof that this is the doc- trine he intends to teach the converted Jew, to whom he addresses himself, is, that this Jew makes some objections, which have no ground in the system we attack, but which are pre- cisely the same that have been always urged against the doctrine of predestination. " Why doth he yet find fault' For who hath resisted his will?" Thus the system of prescience without predestination does not agree with Scripture. We ask, thirdly, what is the system good for? Does it cast any light on the ways of Providence? Does it fill up any of the depths which absorb our imjicrfect reason? In a word, is it not subject to the very same difficulties as that of predestination? These difficulties are the following, how could a God supremely good create men, who he knew must be some day infinitely miserable? How could a God in- finitely holy permit sin to enter the world? How is it, that a God of infinite love to justice, does not Ijestow on all mankind succour suffi- cient to render them perfectly holy? How it came to pass that a God, who declares he " would have all men to be saved," did not reveal his will for the space of four thousand years to an}- but the single nation of the Jews? How is it that at this present time he does not extend our con(iuests to the ends of the earth, that we might carry thither the light of Chris- tianity, preach the gospel in idolatrous climes, and the mosques of Mohammed? How does he afford life, and health, and strength, and courage, and opportunity to a creature, while he prosecutes black and horrible crimes, which make nature tremble? These arc great diffi- culties in Providence. Let any one inform us of a system without them, and we are ready to embrace it: but in this system now before us all these difficulties are contained, and should we grant its advocates all they require, they would be obliged however to exclaim with us on the borders of the ways of God, " O the depth!" The third system is that of such divines as are called Supralapsaria'iis. The word supra- lapsarian signifies above the fall, and these di- vines are so called because they so arrange the decrees of God as to go above the fall of man, as we are going to explain. Their grand prin- ciple is, that God made all things for his own Vol. II.— 14 glory; that his design in creating the universe was to manifest his perfections, and particular- ly iiis justice and his goodness; that for this purpose he created men with design that they should sin, in order that in the end he might appear infinitely good in ])ardoning softie, and perfectly just in condenuiing others; so that God resolved to punish such and such persons, not because he foresaw they would sin, but he resolved they should sin that he might damn them. This is their system in a few words. It is not that which is generally received in our churches, but there have been many members and divines among us who adopted and defend- ed it: but whatever veneration we profess foi' their memory, we ingenuously own, we cannot digest such consequences as seem to us neces- sarily to follow these positions. We will just mention the few difficulties following. First, we demand an explanation of what they mean by this principle, " God has made all things for his own glory." If they mean that justice requires a creature to devote him- self to the worship and glorifying of his Creator, we freely grant it. If they mean that the at- tributes of God are displayed in all his works, we grant this too. But if this proposition be intended to affirm that God had no otiier view in creating men, so to speak, than his own interest, we deny the proposition, and affirm that God created men for their own happiness, and in order to have subjects upon whom he might bestow favours. We desire to be infonned in the next place, how it can be conceived, that a determination to damn millions of men can contribute to " the glory of God?" We easily conceive that it is for the glory of divine justice to punish guilty men: but to resolve to damn men with- out the consideration of sin, to create them that they might sin, to determine that they should sin in order to their destruction, is what seems to us more likely to tarnish the glory of God than to display it. Thirdly, we demand, how according to this hypothesis it can be conceived tliat God is not the author of sin? In the general scheme of our churches, God only permits men to sin, and it is the abuse of liberty that plunges man into misery. Even this principle, moderate as it seems, is yet subject to a great number of difficulties: but in this of our opponents, God wills sin to produce the end he proposed in creating the world, and it was necessary that men should sin; God created them for that. If this be not to constitute God the author of sin, we must renounce the most distinct and clear ideas. Fourthly, we require them to reconcile this system with many express declarations of Scripture, which inform us, that " God would have all men saved." How does it agree with such pressing entreaties, such cutting reproofs, such tender expostulations as God discovers in regard to the unconverted; " O that my people had hearkened unto me! O Jerusalem, Jeru- salem, how often would I have gathered thy children together, even as a hen gathers her chickens under her wrings, and ye would not'" Matt, xxiii. 3". Ivastly, we desire to know how it is possible to conceive a God, who being in the actual IM THE DEEP THINGS OF GOD. [Ser. LXV. enjoyment of perfect happiness, incomprelien- sible and supreme, could détermine to add this degree though useless to his felicity, to create men witiiout number for the purpose of con- fining them for ever in chains of darkness, and burning them for ever in un(]uenchable Haunts. Such are the gulfs opened to us by these divines! As they conceive of the ways of God in a manner so much beyond comprehension, no people in the world have so much reason as they to exclaim, " O the depth! How un- searchable are the ways of God!" For my part, I own I cannot enough wonder at men, who tell lis in cool blood, that God created this universe on purpose to save one man, and to damn a hundred thousand; that neither sighs, nor prayers, nor tears, nor groans, can revoke this decree; that we must submit to the sen- tence of God, whose glory requires the creation of all these people for destruction! I say I cannot sufficiently express my astonishment at seeing people maintain these propositions with inflexibility and insensibility, without attempt- ing to mitigate or limit the subject, yea, who tells us that all this is extremely plain and free from every difficulty, and that none of our objections deserve an answer. Such being the difficulties of the several Bj^tems of the decrees of God, it should seem there is but one part to take, and that is to embrace the plan of our churches; for although it is evident by the reflections we have made, that the subject is obscure, yet it is that of all which is most conformable to the light of rea- son, and to the Holy Scriptures. We believe that God from a principle of goodness, created mankind — that it was agreeable to his wisdom to form man free — that the root of mankind, Adam, our unhappy father, abused this liberty — that his descendants have added their natural depravity, and to the sins of their ancestors, many crimes of tlieir own— that a conduct so monstrous rendered parents and children wor- thy of eternal misery, so that without violating the laws of justice God might for ever punish both — that having foreseen from all eternity these misfortunes, he resolved from all eternity to take from this unworthy mass of condemned creatures a certain number of men to be saved — that for them he sent his Son into the world — that he grants them his Spirit to apply the benefits of the dcatii of his Son — and that this Spirit conducts them by tlie hearing of the word to sanctification, and from sanctification to eternal felicity. This in a few words is the system of our churches. Hereupon, if you ask how it happens that two men to whom Christ is preached, the one receives and the other rejects him? We an- swer with St. Paul, this dificrence is, " that the purpose of God according to election might stand." If yon ask again whence comes this choice, how is it that God chooses to give his Spirit, and to display his mercy to one, and that he chooses to make the other a victim to his justice? We answer, " God hath mercy on whom he will have mercy, and whom ho will he hardeneth," that is, leaves liim to his own insensibility. If you inquire farther how God can without injuring his holiness, leave a man to his own hardness? We re- ply, that God is master of his creature, and that " the potter hath power over the clay, of the same lump to make one vessel unto honour, and another unto dishonour." If you still demand, what then is the use of our ministry, and what right has God to complain that so many sinners persist in impenitence, since he has resolved to leave them in it' To this we answer, " who art thou that repliest against God? Shall the thing formed say to him that formed it, why hast thou made me thua'" After all these questions should you appeal to our consciences to know whether our own an- swers fully satisfy ourselves; whether our argu- ments may not be turned against us; whether the objections we have made against others do not seem to conclude against ourselves; and whether the system we have proposed to you appears to ourselves free from difficulty; to this we reply by putting our finger upon our mouth: we acknowledge our ignorance, we cannot rend the veil under which God has concealed his mysteries: we declare, that our end in choosing this subject was less to remove diffi- culties than to press them home, and by these means to make you feel the toleration which Christians mutually owe to one another on this article. It was with this view that we led you to llie brink of this abyss of God, and endeavour- ed to engage you to exclaim here, as well as on the borders of other abysses, " O the depth of the riches both of the wisdom and knowledge of God! How unsearchable are his judgments, and his ways past finding out!" So much for the deep tilings of God consider- ed as objects astonishing and transporting the mind. Now let us consider them as objects productive of virtue and holiness. As the doc- trine we have been establishing is most sublime in speculation, so is it most eflectual in practice. Recall what we said on the darkness in which God conceals himself. Remember this obscu- rity is every where mixed with light, a sort of twilight. There is obscurity in our natural ideas, obscurity in tlie works of nature, obscu- rity in the conduct of Providence, obscurity in many doctrines of revelation. Amidst all this darkness, I discover one certain principle, one particle of pure light emitting brightness with- out obscurity, one truth which natural ideas, the whole creation, the w-ays of Providence, and the language of revelation, concur to teach us, that is, that a holy life is necessary. We do not make this reflection by way of introducing skepticism, and to diminish the certainty of the doctrines, which it has pleased God to reveal. Wo be to us, if while we la- bour with one hand to establish the foundations of religion, we endeavour to subvert them with the other! Far from us bo tiiose modern Va- ninis, wlio, under pretence of making us con- sider the Deity as covered with holy darkness, would persuade us that he is an inconsistent being, and that the religion he addresses to us shocks reason, and is incompatible with itself. But whence is it, pray, that amidst all the obscurities that surround us, God has placed practical duties in a light so remarkably clear? Wlience is it that doctrines most clearly re- vealed are however so expressed as to furnish difficulties, if not substantial and real, yet likely and apparent: and that the practical part is so clearly revealed that it is not Uable to any Skr. LXV.] THE DEEP THINGS OF GOD. 107 objections which have any show or colour of argument' My brethren, either we must deny the wisdom of the Creator, or we must infer this consequence, that what is most necessary to be known, what will be most fatal to man to neglect, what we ouglit most inviolably to preserve, is ])ractical religion. Let us apply this general reflection to tiie deep decrees of God. If the " foundation of God stands sure," you can have no true joy or solid content, till you have each of you decided tiiis great ques- tion; am I one of the " vessels of mercy de- creed unto glory?" Or am I one of tiie " ves- sels of wrath fitting to destructionr" But iiow can Ï satisfy myself on this question at the same tdroe so obscure and so impoilanl? Tiie decree is impenetrable. The book of life is sealed. We have told you a thousand times, that there is no other way tiian by examining whether you bear tiie marks of election, and your whole vocation is to endeavour to acquire them. These characters, you know, are patience, gentleness, charity, humility, detachment from the world, and all other Ciiristian virtues. It belongs to you to exercise them. A little less speculation and more practice. Let us become less curious, and try to bo more holy. Let us leave God to arrange his own decrees, and for our parts let us arrange our actions, and regu- late our lives. Do not say, if I be predesti- nated to salvation I shall be saved without en- deavouring. You would be wicked to make this objection, for although you are persuaded that your days are numbered, yet you do not omit to eat, and drink, and take care of your health. In this manner you should act in re- gard to your salvation. And we, ministers of Jesus Christ, what is our duty.' Why are we sent to this people? Is it to fathom the decrees of predestination and reprobation? As the Spirit of God has reveal- ed these mysteries, it is right to treat of them in the course of our ministry, and we should " think more highly of ourselves than we ought to think," were we to suppress this part of re- ligion. But after all, must we stop here? Must this be the principal subject of our sermons? God forbid we should so ill understand the end of our ministry! I would as willingly see a physician, when he is consulted in a dangerous illness, employ himself in discoursing on the term of human life, haranguing his patient, telling him that his days are numbered, and that a hair of his head could not fall without the will of God. Unseasonable orator, leave talking, and go to work, consult the symptoms of iny illness, call art and nature to my assist- ance, leave God to e.xecute his own decrees, prescribe the remedies I must take, and the regimen I must follow, endeavour to strengthen this tottering body, and to retain my breath just ready to evaporate. Let us apply this image. Let us think of the account we must give to tlie master who sent us. Let us take care that he does not say to us in the great day of judgment. Get ye behind me ye refractory servants! I sent you to make the church holy, and not render it disputatious: to confirm my elect, and not to engage them in attempts to penetrate the mysteries of election, to announce my laws, and not to fathom my decrees. But not to confine ourselves to these general remarks, let us observe, that obscurity in regard to God aflbrds powerful arguments against the rash divine, the indiscreet zealot, the timorous Christian, and the worldly man attached to sensiljle objects. Tiiis subject addresses itself to you rash di- vines, you who perplex your mind by trying to conii)rehend incouiprehensible truths, to you whose audacious disposition obliges you to run into one of these two extremes, eitlier to em- brace error or to render truth doubtful by the manner of explaining it. For understand, my bretlircn, the man who rejects a trutii because lie cannot comprehend it, and he who would fully cOAiprchend it before lie receives it, both sin from tl^« same principles, neitlier under- stands khc'limits of the human mind. These two extremes are alike dangerous. Certainly on tlie one hand we must be very rash, we must entertain very diminutive ideas of an in- finite God, wo must be very little versed in science to admit only principles which have no difiiculty, and to regard the depth of a sub- ject as a character of falsehood. What! A miserable creature, an ignorant creature, a creature that does not know itself, would know the decrees of God, and reject tiiem if they be unfathomable! But on tlic other hand, we must have very narrow views, we must have a very weak mind, we must know very little of tlie design» of God, not to feel any difficulty, to find every thing clear, not to suspend our judgment upon any thing, to pretend not only to perceive the trutli of a mystery, but to go to the bottom of it. Insignificant man, feel thy diminutiveness. Cover thyself with dust, and learn of tlie greatest of divines to stop where you ought to stop, and to cry on the brink of the ocean, "O the depth!" Tlie deep things of God ought to confound the indiscreet zealot, who decries and reviles all opinions different from his own, though in matters in themselves dark and obscure. Here we pour our tears into the bosoms of our bre- thren of Augsburgh, some of whose teachers describe us in the most odious colours, dip their pen in gall when they write against us, tax us with making of the Deity a God cruel and barbarous, a God who is the author of sin, and who by his decrees, countenances the depravity and immorality of mankind. You see, whether this be oar doctrine. You see, we join our voices with those of seraphims, and make our assemblies resound with " Holy, holy, holy is the Lord of hosts." You see, we exhort our people to " enter in at the strait gate," and to " work out their salvation with fear and trembling." But, say you, do not the conse- quences we impute to you follow from your principles? To grant for a moment that they do follow, is it not sufficient that we disown and condemn them? Does not such an answer from you concerning another doctrine satisfy us? Accuse us of being bad reasoners: but do not accuse us of being wicked men. Accuse us of reasoning inconclusively, but do not ac- cuse us of exercising a faithless ministry. But, say you, you have divines among you who poison controversy, who refute with bitterness, who excommunicate such as are not of their sentiments on predestination, and who, had they power equal to their will, would establish tm THE SENTENCE PASSED UPON JUDAS [Ser. LXVI. every opinion with fire and blood. Have we such divines? Ah! may God deliver us from them! They follow tlieir own spirit, and not the spirit of our churches. Our cliurches never separated any person from tlioir communion for not believing predestination. You know this by experience. Do we not open our arms to you? Do we not receive you into our com- munion? Have we not a sincere and ardent desire to be in union with you? O that God would hear our prayers! Spouse of Jesus Christ! O that God would put an end to the intestine wars that tear thee asunder! Chil- dren of the Reformation! () that you had but the wisdom to unite all your efforts agiiiist the real enemy of tho Reformation, apd of the re- formed! This is our wish, and théss shall in- cessantly be our prayers. The depths of the ways of God may serve to reprove the timid and revolting Christian; a character too common among us. Our faith forsakes us in our necessities; we lose tiie sure anchor of hope in a storm; we usually dash against rocks of adversity; we are confounded when we see those projects vanish, on the suc- cess of wliich we rested our happiness, and the prosperity of the church. Aly brctliren, let us be more firm in our principles. Clirislian prudence indeed will oblige us to put our hand to every good work. We must be vigilant, assiduous, exact in our own affairs. In like manner in public dangers, we must assemble wise men, raise armies, and every one must endeavour to do what is in his power, and carry a stone towards the building of the temple: but when our designs fail, let us be steady, im- moveable, unchangeable. Let us remember that we are only little children in comparison with the Intelligence at the helm of the world; that God often allows us to use just and rational means, and at length frustrates all our designs in order to deliver us by unexpected methods, and to save us with more conspicuous power and glory. When I am to penetrate this truth, I fix my eyes on the great enemy of religion. I see him at first equalling, yea surpassing the most superb potentates, risen to a point of elevation astonishing to the whole world. His family numerous, his armies victorious, his territories extended far and wide, at home and abroad. I see places conquered, battles won, and every blow aimed at his throne, serving only to esta- blish it. I see a servile idolatrous court ele- vating him above men, above heroes, and likening him to God himself I see all parts of the world overwhcltned with his troops, your frontiers threatened, religion trembling, and the Protestant world at the brink of ruin. At the sight of this tempest, I expect every moment to see the church expire, and I exclaim, O thou little boat, driven with tho wind, and battered in the storm! Are the waves going to swallow, thee up? O church of Jesus Christ! against which tho gates of hell were never to ftrevail, are all my hopes como to this! — Bo- lold Almighty God makes bare his holy arm, discovers himself amidst all this chaos, and overwhelms us with miracles of love, after having humbled us by the darkness of his Pro- yi^ence. Behold! In two campaigns,* more than a hundred thousand enemies are either buried in the waves, or killed by our troops, or trodden to death by our horse, or taken prisoners. Behold! whole provinces yield to our arms. Behold! our noble army covered with more laurels than we had ever seen be- fore. Behold the fatal power that was just now exalted to heaven, shaking, falling, and about to be cast down to hell. My brethren, let these events make us wise. Let us not judge of the conduct of God by our own ideas, but let us learn to respect the depths of his Providence. But what! shall we always live in shades and darkness! Will there always be a veil be- tween the porch and the sanctuary? Will God always lead us among chasms and gulfs? Ah! my brethren, these are precisely the ejacula- tions, these are the desires with which we would inspire you; and this we affirm, that the deep things of God expose the folly of a worldly man, who immoderately loves the pre- sent life. Presently this night, this dark night, shall bo at an end; presently we shall enter into that temple, " where there is no need of the sun, because the Lamb is the light there- of," Rev. xxi. 23. Presently we shall arrive at that blessed period, when that which is in part shall be done away. In heaven we shall know all things. In heaven we shall under- stand nature, providence, grace, and glory. In heaven, Jesus Christ will solve all our diffi- culties and objections. In heaven we shall see God face to face. O liow will this knowledge fill us with joy! O how delightful will it be to derive knowledge and truth from their source! My soul, quit thy dust! Anticipate these pe- riods of felicity, and say with Closes, "Lord, show me thy glory!" O Lord, dissipate the clouds and darkness that are around thy throne! O Lord shorten the time that separates us! . . . " No man can see my face and live." Well! Let us die then. Let us die to become im- mortal. Let us die to know God. Let us die to be made partakers of the divine nature. Happy to form such elevated wishes! Happier still to see them accomplished! Amen. Of Hochittt anc) Uamillic SERMON LXVI. THE SENTENCE PASSED UPON JUDAS BY JESUS CHRIST. Matthew xxvi. 24. Tlie Son of man goeth as it is written of him: but wo unto that man by whom the Son of man is betrayed: it had been good for that ma», if he h(ul not been bom. This verse is part of a period beginning at tlie seventeenth, and ending with the twenty- fifth verse, in which the evangelist narrates two events, the last passover of Jesus Christ, and the treason of Judas. One of my col- leagues will explain the other parts of this pas- sage of sacred history, and I shall confine my- self to this sentence of our Saviour against Ju- das, " It had been good for that man, if he had not been bom." This oracle is unequivocal. It conveys a Ser. LXVI.] BY JESUS CHRIST. 109 most melancholy idea of the condition of the unhappy criminal. It should seem, Jesus Christ enveloped in (jiialified terms a truth the most dreadful imaginable. These words, " It had been good for that man, if he had not been born," are equivalent to these, Judas is for ever excluded from the happiness of heaven; Judas is for ever condemned to the pimishment of hell. It is the same truth, whicli the apostles expressed, after the example of their master, in milder terms, " Thou Lord, which knowest the hearts of all men, show whether tliou hast chosen Justus or Matthias, that he may take part of this apostleship, from which Judas by transgression fell, that he might go to his own place," Acts i. 24 — 28. What is this place? The answer is easy, though some ancient here- tics affirm extravagant things about it. It is the place reserved for those against whom the door of mercy is shut: it is the place reserved for those who must for ever serve for victims of divine justice. If you recall to mind all the most guilty persons, and those whose condition is the most desperate, you will not find one of whom tiiat can be said without rashness which is here af- firmed of Judas, Judas is the only person, lite- rally the only person, whom we are allowed with certainty to declare is in the torments of hell. Certainly we cannot help forming la- mentable ideas of the condition of some sin- ners, who died in perpetrating their crimes; as of some who were less men than monsters of humanity, and who died blaspheming God, and attacking religion and morality, as Pha- raoh, Belshazzar, Julian, and others; but after all, it is not for us to set limits to the mercy of God. The Holy Spirit has ways unknown to us to convert the hearts of men. Judas is the only one without exception, of whom I dare venture to affirm, he is irrecoverably lost. And when I form this judgment of his destiny, I do not ground it merely on his betraying Jesus Christ; for it is not impossible that after he had committed that crime he might have ob- tained forgiveness by repentance. I do not ground it on the manner of his death, for he was distracted, and madness is sometimes caused by trouble, and in such a case reason has no share, and divine justice does not im- pute sin to a man deprived of his senses. I ground my judgment of the punishment of Judas on the words of my text, " It had been good for that man, if he had not been born;" words never denounced by the Spirit of God against any other wretch that ever was. Thus the object which I e.xhibit to your view to-day, is not only a particular object, but is even an unique, a sole, a single object. But perhaps, because it is a singular case, you ihink it does not regard you, and that you need not make any inferences concerning your own eternal destiny from it. And does not this object regard you? Alas! My brethren, I dare not but however hear me; condescend to accompany me in this mortifying and (I must tell you, how improper soever it may seem to reconcile your attention) deign to ac- company us in this alarming meditation. Come and examine what a melancholy like- ness there is between the features of some of our hearers, and those of the miserable Judas. How like are their dispositions! How sad so- ever the examination may be, there is at least one comfortable consideration, at least one dif- ference between them and this traitor, that is, .lesns Christ has pronounced the decree of his condemnation, whereas he has not yet pro- nounced the sentence on my hearers; the door of mercy is yet open to them, the time of their visitation is not yet quite expired. O that they would avail themselves of the few inesti- mable moments that remain! O that they would throw themselves at the feet of that Jesus wlioni tliey have so often betrayed! O that tliey may be washed in that blood which they have so unworthily trodden under foot! God Almighty grant, for his great mercy's sake, that this may be the effect of this dis- course! Grant, O God, that such of us as are best established in piety may be filled with holy fear, by seeing to wiiat excess self-interest may be carried! " O Lord, incline my heart unto thy testimonies, and not unto covetous- ness." Amen. " It had been good for that man if he had not been born," or what is the same thing in this place, " If he had never existed, and were not to exist any longer." Let us first explain the meaning of Jesus Christ by a few reflec- tions, and justify the idea I have given you of the words. , 1 . Existence is the foundation of happiness and misery. Nothing has no properties. Not to exist is to be neither happy nor miserable. To exist is to be capable of one or the other, or both together. Existence considered in it- self, is indifferent to the being existing; it is the happiness or the misery with which it is accompanied, which determines the value of it. If it were possible for a man to exist with- out being either happy or miserable, his exist- ence would be in some sort useless and indif^ ferent, and it would be true in regard to him, that it would be neither good nor evil to him to be born or not to bo born. If the existence of a man be accompanied with equal degrees of happiness and misery, we must form the same judgment; misery is compensated by happiness, and happiness by misery, the ba- lance is equal, and preponderates neither way. If there be more happiness than misery in his existence, it is true in regard to him, that it is better for him to be than not to be; on the contrary, if misery exceed happiness, .... finish this proposition yourselves, and apply it to the subject in hand. " It had been good for Judas if he had not been born." So Jesus Christ declares. The existence of Judas then must be attended with more misery than hap- piness. This is our first reflection. 2. To judge whether a man be happy or miserable, whether it would be better for him to exist or not to exist, we must not consider him in regard to a few moments, but in the whole of his existence; we must examine whether all things considered good be greater than evil, or evil greater than good. The good and ills of past hfe generally leave no im- pression on our minds, they contribute only to our present happiness or misery, and there remains nothing but a remembrance of them. If you can judge of the happiness or misery of man by his actual condition, you will say in no THE SENTENCE PASSED UPON JUDAS [Ser. LXVI. each moment of his happiness, it is better for him to be tlian not to be; and during every moment of liis misery, you will say, it is better for him not to exist. But, as I said before, it is not in regard to a single instant that a man ought to be considered to determine whether he be happy or miserable; it is in the whole of his existence. I make this reflection to prevent your sup- posing that when Jesus Christ said, "It had been good for Judas if he had not been born," he meant Judas should be annihilated. Had Judas been annihilated after death, it must be said, according to our first proposition, that Judas after death would not be either happy or miserable; that it would not have been either good or evil for him to be born or not to be born. In this case, to form a just idea of the value of the existence of Judas, it would be necessary to compare the misery of his end with the happiness of his life, and as we have no reason to think he had been more miserable than happy in his life, as we have reason to presume, on the contrary, that having been in a middling state of life, he had enjoyed the gifts of nature with some kind of tranquillity, it could not be affirmed, strictly speaking, that because he died a violent death, " it had been good for him if he had not been born." The death of Judas separated from its consequences was not more miserable than that of a man who dies in his bed after lying ill some days; and as we cannot affirm of a man, who after enjoying a tranquil life dies by an illness of some days, that " it had been good for that man if he had not been born," so neither can we affirm of Judas, if he had been annihilated after death. When Jesus Christ says, " it had been good for that man if he had not been born," he supposes he would subsist after death. He compares the condition he would be in after death with all the good he had en- joyed, and would enjoy during life; and by thus forming his judgment on the whole of existence, he determines that the existence of this traitor would be accompanied with more evil than good, and he pronounces, " it would have been good for that man if he had not been born," that is to say, if he never had existed, and if he never were to exist any longer. This is our second reflection. 3. Whatever misfortunes attend the present life, there are few men, wlio, all things consi- dered, would not rather choose to live for ever, as we live in this world, than to be annihilated after living a few years. I do not inquire whether their choice bo good; 1 only say it is their choice, the fact is incontestable. If few men be of the mind of Maecenas, who said, *' Let me sufter, let me be despised, and mise- rable, yet I would rather exist than not exist," if there be, I say, few men of the opinion of this favourite of Augustus, tliere are few also who adopt tiie sentiment of the Wise Man, or shall 1 say of the fool? (for there is some rea- son to doubt, whotiier it be the language of Solomou or the fool introduced in the book,") *' I praised the dead which are already dead, more than the living which are yet alive: yea, better is he than botii they, which hath not yet been," Eccles. iv. ii, 3. To consider things as they usually are, whatever misfortunes attend life, mankind prefer life before annihilation. Whether their taste be good or bad, we do not inquire now, we speak of a fact, and the fact is indisputable. Jesus Christ speaks to men, he supposes their ideas to be what they are, and he speaks according to these ideas. When he says, " it had been good for Judas, if he had not been born," he means that his misery would be greater after death tlian it had been during his life; for how disgusting soever life may be, mankind prefer it before annihilation; and if Judas had no other punishment to suf- fer for his perfidy than such as belonged to the present state, Jesus Christ would not have said, " it had been good for that man if he had not been born." He intended we should un- derstand that Judas would be more miserable in a future economy, than we are in this life, in spite of the maladies to which our frailty exposes us, in spite of tiie vicissitudes we ex- perience, and in spite of the sacrifices, which we are daily required to make. 4. If, as we said at first, the sentence of Jesus Christ against Judas be expresssed in mild terms, we must, in order fully to compre- hend tlie sense, lay aside the soft language, and advert to the terrible subject. But can we without rashness change the terms of a sen- tence which the Saviour pronounced, and give the whole of what he spoke only in part' Yes, provided the part we add be taken not from our own systems, but from that of Jesus Christ, who only can fill up the space which sufficient reasons induced him to leave vacant when he gave out this sentence. Now we find two things in tiie system of Jesus Christ on this subject. First, that the misery denounced against Judas is of the most dreadful kind. And secondly, that Jesus Christ denounces against him the greatest degree of misery of this kind. Or to express myself more clearly, my first proposition is, that every place in hell is intolerable. My second proposition is, that Jesus Christ doomed Judas to the most intole- rable place in hell. Does our first proposition need proving.' I lay aside what the Scripture tells us of the " lake," the " bottomless pit," the " brim- stone," the " smoke," the " darkness," the " chains of darkness," the " worm that never dies, and the fire that is never quenched." Frightful objects! I have no need to recollect you to form gloomy images of the state of the damned. My idea of heaven is sufficient to give mo a horrible image of hell. " Pleasures at God's right hand for evermore;" joy of an in- telligent creature finding his knowledge for ever on the mcrease; calm of a conscience washed in tiie blood of the Lamb; freedom from all the maladies that aftlict poor mortals, from all the inquietudes of doubt, and from alL tiie turbulence of the passions: society of angels, archangels, cherubim, and all that multitude of intelligences, wliich God has associated both in rectitude and glory: close communion with the happy God; felicity of heaven: it is you that makes me conceive the horrible state of hell! To bo for ever deprived of your charms, this alone is enough to make me trem- ble at the idea of hell. But if every place in hell be intolerable, I some are more so than others. When, by fol- Ser. LXVI.] BY JESUS CHRIST. Ill lowing the genius of the gospel, you examine for whom divine justice reserves the most dread- ful punishments, you easily conceive it is for such men as Judas, and you will agree (with- out our staying now to prove it) that as Jesus Christ denounced the worst kind of punish- ment against him, so he doomed him to suffer the greatest degree of tliat kind of punishment. In fine, our last remark on tiie words of Je- sus Ciirist is, tiiat when he said, " it had been good for that man if lie had not been born" or " had ho never existed," he supposed not only that the punisliment of Judas did not exist in annihilation, but that it would not be in his power not to exist. He supposed that Judas was not master of his own existence, and that it did not depend on him to continue or to put an end to it, as he should think proper. E.x- istence considered in itself is indilierent. We have explained in what sense, and we have proved that it is the happiness or misery, which attends it, that determines the worth of it. — Now, whatever the pain of hell may be, it need not alarm us, if the Creator when he caused us to exist gave us the power of remaining in it or quitting it. In this case it would always depend on us to get rid of punishment, because it would depend on us to cease to exist, and we might enter into that state of annihilation which we said was neitiier happy or misera- ble, but we have not this power over ourselves. As an act of omnipotence was necessary to give us existence, so is it to deprive us of it; and as it belongs to none but Almighty God to perform the first of these acts, so it belongs only to him to effect the second; so absolute, so entire is our dependence upon him! I do not know what is intended by the " star" mentioned in the ninth chapter of Revelation. St. John represents it as " falling from heaven unto the earth," as having " the key of the bottomless pit," as causing a " smoke to arise," by which the " sun and the air were darkened," and out of which came "locusts upon the earth." But I am persuaded, that in a system of irreligion nothing can be imagined more dreadful than the miseries which the Holy Spirit here says these infernal locusts inflict upon mankind. These were commanded " not to kill," but to " torment five months" such men as " had not the seal of God in their foreheads." And " in those days shall men seek death, and shall not find it, and shall de- sire to die, and dcatii shall flee from them. It is a miserable relief, I grant, to destroy one's self to avoid divine punishment. But does death put an end to our existence? Is a sinner less in the hand of God in the grave, tlian he is during this life? " Whither siiall I go from thy spirit? Or whither shall I flee from thy presence?" Ps. cxxxix. 7. What misery in t!ie eyes of an irreligious man to be tormented through life, and to be deprived of a relief which the wretched almost always have in view, I mean death! For how many ways are there of getting rid of life? And to what degree of impotence must he be reduced who is not able by any means to put an end to life? " In those days shall men seek death, and shall not find it, and shall desire to die, and death shall flee from them." But if the greatest misery in the account of an irreligious man be not to have the power of getting rid of the troubles of a few years by destroying himself, what will be the state of the damned to see themselves under a fatal ne- cessity of existing for ever, and of not having the power of terminating their existence, and of sinking into nothing? What despairing and cruel complaints will tiiis necessity of existing cause? In vain will they seek refuge in " dens" and chasms of the earth! In vain will they implore " mountains and rocks to fall on them and hide them!" In vain will they " curse the day," and execrate " the night of their birth!" They will be obliged to exist, because Al- mighty God will refuse them that act of om- nipotence, without which they cannot be an- nihilated. Such will be the misery of the damned, and such is the extreme misery to which Jesus Christ adjudges Judas. But this man, you will say, had a dark perfidious soul, he was a traitor, he had the infamy to betray his Saviour, and to sell him for thirty pieces of silver; this man was such a monster as nature hardly pro- duces in many centuries. My brethren, I am come now to the most odious but most neces- sary part of my discourse. I must enter on the mortifying task of examining whether there be any resemblance between some of this as- sembly and the unhappy Judas. What a task to perform in such an auditory as this! What a gospel to preach to Christians! What mur- murs are we going to excite in this assembly! " The word of the Lord was made a reproach unto me, and a derision daily. Then I said, I will not make mention of him, nor speak any' more in his name. But his word was in mine heart as a burning fire shut up in my bones, and I was weary with forbearing, and I could not stay," Jer. xx. 8, 9. Do not think that I intend to conclude my discourse by abusing the liberty given me of speaking in this pulpit, by attempting to make an ingenious essay on a subject the most grave and solemn; be not afraid of my extenuating the crimes of Judas, and exaggerating yours. How is it possible to extenuate the crimes of Judas? When I represent to myself a man whom the Saviour distinguished in a manner so remarkable, a man who travelled with him, a man to whom he had not only revealed the mysteries of his kingdom, but whom he asso- ciated with himself to teach them to the world, to subvert the empire of Satan and set his cap- tives free, and to preach this gospel, "lay not up for yourselves treasures upon earth, but lay up for yourselves treasures in heaven, for where your treasure is there will your heart be also. Sell that you have, and give alms, provide yourselves bags that wax not old, a treasure in the heavens that faileth not," Matt. vi. 19, &c. Luke xii. 33. When I consider this man freely opening his lieart to the demon of avarice, par- leying with the most obstinate enemies of his divine master, proposing to deliver him up to their barbarity, agreeing on the price of trea- son, executing the horrible stipulation, coming at the head of the most vile and infanjous mob that ever was, giving the fatal signal to his un- worthy companions, kissing Jesus Clurist, and saying while he saluted him, "hail master;" when I consider this abominable man, far from 112 THE SENTENCE PASSED UPON JUDAS [Skr. LXVI. attempting to extenuate bis crime, I can find no colours dismal enough to describe it. No: I tremble at the bare idea of this monster, and involuntarily exclaim, " O execrable love of money! to what wilt thou not impel the hearts of men!"* But does this odious picture resemble none but Judas.' Ah! When I imairiiie a Christian bom in this age of knowledge, a Ciiristian with the gospel in his hand, convinced of the truth and beauty of religion, a Christian com- municant at the table of Jesus Christ, who has vowed a hundred times an eternal obedience to God, and has " tasted the good word of God, and the powers of tiie world to come:" when I consider this Christian full of contrivances, intriguing in certain circles, exposing to the world a spectacle of immodesty, resisting the ministry, exclaiming against such religious dis- courses as his depravity forbids him to obey; or, to confine myself to the disposition of Ju- das, when I observe this Christian-like Judas possessed with the demon of avarice, harden- ing his heart against the cries of the wretched, pillaging the widow and the fatherless of their daily bread, selling his own soul and the souls of his children ratlier than break through a pa- pal interdict, rather than quit a country where truth is hated and persecuted, where there is no public worship during life, no consolations at the liour of death: when I consider such Christians, I protest, I almost pity Judas, and turn all my indignation against tiiem. My brethren, 1 said, and I repeat it again, the task is mortifying, tiie matter is otiensive, but I must come to it, " if I seek to please men, I shall not be the servant of Christ." Let us lay aside vague ideas, and let us enter on some detail. Let us describe Judas, but let us not for- get ourselves, too much resembling this ugly roan. Let us examine, first, the passion that governed him — next, the crime to which it im- pelled him — then, tiie circumstances in which he committed it — fourthly, the pretexts with whicii he covered it — and finally, tiio confes- sion he was compelled to make. 1. What p(tssion governed Judas.' Every one knows it was avarice. Which of us is given up to this passioa' Rather which of us is free from it' Avarice may be considered in two different points of light. It may be considered in those men, or rather those public bloodsuckers, or, as the otlicers of the Koman emperor Vespa- sian were called, those sponges of society, who infatuated with this passion seek after riches as the su|>reme good, determine to acquire it by any methods, and consider the ways that lead to wealth, legal or illegal, as the only road for them to travel. Let the laws be violated, let the peo])lo be oppressed, let equity be sub- verted, let a kingdom be sacrificed to their ir- resistible passion for wealth, let it be across a thousand depopulated countries, a thousand ruined families, let it be over a thousand piles of mangled carcasses tliat they arrive at for- tune, provided they can but acquire it, no mat- ter what it costs. This is owr first notion of avarice. But in this point of light who of us has this passion! ' Q,uiii non morUlia, Sic, Virg. Maeid. L. 3. Nobody, not one person, I except none. I leave to the Searcher of hearts to determine whether it be the vehemence of our piety, or the impotence of our condition, that prevents our carrying avarice to this length; whether it be respect lor the laws or dread of them, that keeps us from violating them; whether we ab- stain from oppressing mankind because we love, or because we fear them; whether sacrificing our country to our love of wealth be prevented by love to our country, or by a despair of suc- cess. Yes, 1 leave the decision of this ques- tion to the Searcher of hearts. I would, as far as I can without betraying my ministry, form the most favounible judgment of my hearers; tlierefore I affirm not one of us is avaricious in this first sense. Avarice, however, must be considered in a second point of light. It not only consists in committing bold crimes, but in entertaining mean ideas, and practising low methods, in- compatible with such magnanimity as our con- dition ought to inspire. It consists not only in an entire renunciation of the " kingdom of God and the righteousness thereof," but in not " seeking it first" in the manner proposed. It consists not only in always endeavouring to in- crease our wealth, but in harbouring continual fears of losing it, and perplexing ourselves in endless methods of preserving it. It consists not only in wholly withholding from the poor, but in giving through constraint, and in always fearing to give too much. It consists not only in omitting to serve God, but in trying to asso- ciate the service of God with that of mam- mon. Which of us is free from avarice consi- dered in this second point of light' Strictly speaking, nobody, no, not one person. 2. But what right have wo to pronounce that no one is defiled with avarice considered in the first point of light' Let us consider this passion in regard to the odious critnes which it impels us to comnxjt. Let us review the articles just now mentioned. Are we guilty of only trying to associate God and mammon.' And do we never lay aside tiie service of God wholly, when it clashes with that of mammon.' Are we guilty of nothing more than giving through constraint' do we not often avoid giving at all? do we not always omit cha- rity, when we can do so without being branded witii infamy.' Are we to blame only for fear- ing to lose our wealth, are we not also always occupied about increasing it, so that this desire follows us every where, through all the tumult of the day and all the silence of the night, into every company, into private prayer and public devotioit' Are we guilty of only not "seeking first the kingdom of God," are wo not also ready to renounce it, when we cannot enter it without losing some of our wealth.' Are we guilty of violating only the laws of charity, do we not also violate tliose of equity.' By what unheard of secret then have some of us so rapidly acquired large forlunea' What sudden revolution then lias so quickly changed the appearance of some families.' What re- markable Providence then has made such an extreme difference between your ancestry and your posterity? What motive then retains so many of our protestant brethren in their native country, and why are there in this assembly so 8er. LXVI] BY JESUS CHRIST. 113 many dismembered families? Why are not children with their parents, and parents with their children in lliis free country, both content to have their " lives for a prey?" Ah! my brethren, what a scandalous history is that of Judas! What a horrible crime did his avarice impel him to commit! And also what a sad resemblance is there between that wretch and some Christians, who profess to abhor him! 3. As the avarice of Jud.as appears odious considered in itself, and more so considered in regard to the crime he conunitted throntjh il, BO it will appear more oflensive still, if you consider it in view of tiio circumstances in which he was when he gave himself up to it: for how far soever the wickedest of men be from the ])ractice of some virtues, there are occasions on which they seem to turn their at- tention to them. The most barbarous souls cannot help relenting, when they see the ob- jects of their hatred reduced to extreme misery. Hearts the most lukewarm towards religion, feel, I know not what emotions of piety, when religion is e.xhibited in some eminent point of light, and when the love of God to his crea- tures, and his compassion for sinners, are de- scribed in lively colours. On this principle, what opinion must we form of Judas? What a time did he choose to betray his master to his enemies, and to give himself up to Satan? Jesus Christ was eating the passover with his disciples, and telling them, "with desire I have desired to eat this passover with you before I suffer." Jesus Christ was taking leave of his disciples at a love-feast, and going, as soon as the company broke up, to substantiate the shadow exhibited in the paschal supper, by offering himself in their stead a sacrifice for sin. Judas partook of this paschal lamb, and sat at the table with Jesus Christ at this feast of love, yet in these circumstances so proper to eradicate avarice, at least to suspend the growth of it, it became more vigorous, and ripened in his unworthy soul. My brethren, when we judge our own hearts, let us keep this principle in view. A passion hateful in itself, and hateful on account of the crimes it makes us commit, may become more so by circumstances. What is an innocent freedom in some circumstances may become licentiousness in other circumstances, and as circumstances alter, what is licentious may be- come a great crime; and thus an innocent free- dom, at most an act of licentiousness, at most a crime, may become an atrocious outrage, and unpardonable on account of circumstances in which it was committed. This maxim is self-evident, it is an axiom of morality. O God, Judge of the whole earth, do not pass sentence on this assembly according to the rigour of this maxim! This is passion week, and we are in circumstances, in which Jesus Christ most powerfully attacks our vices. You need not be a saint to have emotions of piety in these circumstances, it is sufficient to be a man; but you must be a monster, a disciple of Judas, to have none. To hate in these circum- stances, to hate when Jesus Christ loves, and while ho is saying of his e-xecutioncrs, " Fa- ther, forgive them, for they know not what they do." To shut our hearts against the cries Vol. IL— 16 of our wretched fellow-creatures, while Jesus Christ is pouring out his blood, his life, his -soul for poor mortals; to give ourselves up to W(jrldly pleasures, while nothing is treated of among us but the sufferings of Jesus Christ, while he is represented as sweating great drops of blood, contending with divine justice, fas- tened to a cross, and uttering these lamentable complaints, " my soul is exceeding sorrowful, very heavy, sorrowful even unto death. O my Father, if it be possible let this cup pass from me! My God! ray God! why hast thou forsaken me!" At such a time, and in such cir- cunislanres, to pursue worldly pleasures .... My bretlircn, finish this article yourselves, and pronoimce your own sentences. 4. Consider the pretexts with which Judas covered his avarice. One of the principal causes of our indignation at the irregularities of our neighbours, and our indulgence for our own is, that we see the first without the colour- ings, which they who commit them make use of to conceal their turpitude from themselves, whereas we always consider our own through such mediums as decorate and disguise them. Now as we palliate our own passions, we ought to believe tiiat other people palliate theirs. Who can imagine that Judas considered his crime in its own real horrid colours? Can any body suppose that he said to himself, " 1 am determined lo violate the most solemn obliga- tions for thirty pieces of silver; I am resolved to betray the Saviour of the world for thirty pieces of silver: I would rather see him cruci- fied than be deprived of this unworthy price of treason: this contemptible reward I prefer before all the joys of heaven?" No, no, Judaa did not reason thus. Judge what he did on this occasion by what he did on another. A woman poured a box of costly ointment on the feet of Jesus Christ; Judas was hurt to see this prey escape his avarice, he therefore covered the sordid disposition of his soul, with the goodly pretence of charity, " this ointment might have been sold for three hundred pence, and given to the poor," John xii. 4 — 6. Thus in the present case, " perhaps Jesus Christ will escape from his enemies, as he has often done before. Perhaps his looks will deter them. Perhaps he will fell them to the earth with his power. Perhaps the angels of heaven will surround, protect, and defend him. Perhaps I myself shall contribute to save the world by otlering the sacrifice that is to procure salva- tion. Perhaps too, I may have formed ideas too high of this Jesus. Perhaps God does not interest himself in his preservation, as I have hitherto supposed. Perhaps he has assumed a character which does not belong to him, and is nothing but a phantom of Messiah. (Who can tell what extravagant reasonings may be formed by a mind given up to a passion, and determined to justify it') Afler all, should I add one more crime to what I have already committed, the number will not be so very great. The blood I am going to assist in shed- ding, will obtain my pardon for contributing to shed it. And 1 cannot persuade myself that a Saviour, who came into the world on purpose to publish a general pardon to all sinners, will choose to make an exception Eigainst me, alone." 114 fUE SENTENCE PASSED UPON JUDAS [Ser. LXVI. Bretliron, is this wmrce of sophistry closfid in reirarti to voti? If I may venture to speak so, (lid the lo<,'i<' of your ])it!:siuns p.\j>irn wlit-u Judas died? Which of us is not, so to speak, two dillbrent, yea o])posito men according to the ai^itation of our spirits, and tljc dominion of our passions? Lnt any one of us in: consult- ed foncernincnt now of my sins. I make restitution to church and state, to the public and indivitluals. I choose rather to be- queatli |)(jverty to you, than to leave you a patrimony under a curse. You will gain more iiy the cxamijle 1 giv(! you of re|)entance, than you will by all my unjust acijuisitions." An age, a whole century, does it furnish one sucl» example? Ser. LXVII.] THE CAUSE OF TFIE DESTRUCTION, &c. 115 Such is tlic fare of mankind! Siif^li tlio con- dition of the «■hurrii! And what drnndfiil dis- coveries shiiidd wo now make, foiild wi; look into futurity as v.-.isWy as wo can cxaiiiliKi the present and the; past! \Vh(!n Josiis Christ, tliat good master, uttered this painful prophecy to liis family siltingf round him, " Verily I say unto you, one of you shall betray me," all his disci- ples were cxceedinç sorrowful, and every one said unto him, "Lord, is it I?" }{ow many sul)jects for grief would rise to view, should (Jod draw aside the veil tliat hides the destiny of ail tWs assembly, ami show us the bottomless abyss into which the love of money will plunjre many who are present. [jCt us prevent this ijrcat evil. Let us purify the S|)ring from whence our actions and their ronseqirenccs flow. liCt us examine this idol, to which we sacrifice our all. Judge of the value of the riches in pursuit of which wo are so eager, by the brevity of life. The !)est course of moral instructioi against the pas.«ions, is death. The grave is a discoverer of the ab- surdity of sin of every kind. There the am- bitious may learn the folly of ambition. There the vain may learn tlio vanity of all human tilings. There the voluptuous may read a mor- tifying lesson on the absurdity of sensual plea- sure. But this school, fruitful in instructions that concern all the passions, is profusely elo- quent against avarice. si':rm()n LXVII. THE CAUSE OF THE DESTRUCTION OF IMPENITENT SINNERS. of Constantino the Great. In order to reclaim a miser, he took a lance and marked out a space of ground of the size of a human body, and told him, "add heap to heap, accumulate riches upon riches, extend the bounds of your pos- sessions, conquer the whole world, in a few days, such a spot as this will be all you will have." I take this spear, my brethren, I mark out this space among you, in a few days you will be worth no more than this. Go to tiie tomb of the avaricious man, go down and see his coflm and his shroud, in four days these will be all you will have. I conclude, and J. only add one word of Jesus Christ. Our divine Saviour describes a man revolving in his mind great projects, thinking of nothing but pulling down and rebuilding, dying the same night, void, destitute, miserable, and terrified at seeing all his fancied projects of felicity vanish; on which our Lord makes this reflection, " so is every one who laycth up trea- sure for himself and is not rich towards God," l^uke xii. ii 1. My God! how poor is he, though among piles of gold and silver, amidst all riches and j)lenty, who is not rich towards God! On the contrary, how enviable is the condition of a man hungry, indigent, and wraj)ped in rags, if he be rich towards God! Rich men! This is the only way to sanctify your riches. Be rich towards God. Ye j)Oor people, this is all vou want to support you under poverty, and to en- able you to triumph even in your indigence. May we be all rich towards God! Let us all accunmlate a treasure of good works, it is the most substantial wealth, and that only which will yield a bountiful harvest at last. " There be many that say, Who wilj show us any good? Lord, lift thou uj) the light of thy countenance upon us. Thou hast put gladness in my heart, more than in the time that their corn and their wine increased," Ps. iv. 6, 7. Amen. HosEA xiii. 9. Israrl, thou hast dcstroijcil thyself, hut in ine is thine help. TiiF.sF, words arc so concise in the Hebrew text that no distinct idea can be atlixed to them, uiil(;ss we sujtply something. All expositors allow this. The only ipiestion is, what word ought to be 8up[)lied to express the prophet's m(!aning. Some supply, " thine idols, or thy calves, have destroyed thee:" and by these they under- stand the images which Jeroboam placed at Samaria to prevent the ten tribes, who had re- volted under his direction from the government of Rehoboam, from returning to that prince, as prol)ably they might have been tem|)ted to do, had they gone to worship the true God at Je- rusalem. Others supply, "thy king hath destroyed thee, O Israel," meaning Jeroboses to elevate ns to the highest diijrnity that we are capable of attaining. But wliat then does it mean l)y requiring ua to be huMd>le? It means, that we should not esti- mate ourselves by such titles and riches, such dignities and exterior things, as we have in common with men like Caligula, Nero, Helio- gabalus, and other monsters of nature, scourges of society. Docs religion require mortification? It does, it even describes it by the most painful emblems. It reijuires us to cut off a right, hand, to pluck out a right eye, to tear asunder all the ties of flesh and blood, nature and self- love. But what does it mean by prescribing such mortification as this? Must we literally hate ourselves, and must we take as much pains hereafter to make ourselves miserable as we have taken hitherto to make ourselves happy? No, my brethren, on the contrary, no doctrine has ever carried self-love, properly explained, so far. The Christian doctrine of mortifica- tion means, that by a few momentary acts of self-denial we sliould free ourselves from eternal misery, and that by contemning " tem- poral things which are seen" we sliould obtain "things whicli are not seen, but which are eternal." 4. But, say you, this perfection required by the gospel, is it within our reach? Is it not this religion which exhorts ns to be " perfect as God is perfect'" Is not this the religion that exhorts us to be " holy as God is holy?" Does not this religion recpiire us to be " renewed after the imaare of him that created us?" In- deed it does, my brethren: yet this law, severe as it may seem, has a fourth cliaracter exactly according to our just wishes, that is, it has a character of proportion. As we see in the doc- trines of religion, that although they open a vasi, field to the most sublime geniuses, yet they accommodate themselves to the most con- tracted minds, so in regard to the moral parta of religion, though the most eminent saints are required to make more progress, yet the first etforts of novices arc acceptable services, pro- vided they are sincerely disposed to persevere. Jesus Christ, our great lawgiver, "knoweth our frame, and remembereth that we are dust; he will not break a bruised reed, and smoking (lax he will not quench:" and the rule by which lie will judge us, will not be .so much taken from the inlinite rights acquired over us by creation and redemption as from our frailty, and the eflbrts we shall have made to sur- mount it. 5. Power of motive is another character of evangelical morality. In this life we are ani- mated, 1 will not say only by gratitude, equity, and reason, motives too noble to actuate most men: hut by motives interesting to our pas- sions, and projier to inflame them, if they be well and thoroughly understood. You have ambition. But how do you mean to gratify it' By a palace, a dress, a few ser- vants, a few horses in your carriages? False idea of grandeur, fanciful elevation! I see in a course of Christian virtue an ambition well directed. To a|)i)roach God, to be like God, to be made a " jiartakcr of the divine nature;" this is true grandeur, this is substantial glory. You are avaricious, hence perpetual care, Ser. LXVII.] OF IMPENITENT SINNERS. 119 hence anxious fears, hence never endinjj move- ments. But how can your avarice bear to think of all tliu vicnssitudes that may affect your Jbrtune? In a course of Christian virtue I see an avarice well directed. The jrospcl promises a fortune beyond vici.ssitude, and di- rects us to a faithful corresiiondciit, who will return us for one griim thirty, for another sixty, for another a hundred fold. You are voluptuous, and you refine sensual enjoyments, tickle your a])]ietite, and sleep in a bed of down! I see in a course of virtue a " joy unspeakable and full of glory, a peace tliat passeth all understaiiding-," pleasures boundless in prospect, and delicious hi enjoy- ment, pleasures greater IJian the liveliest ima- gination can conceive, and more beautiful than the most eloquent lii)s can describe. Such is religion, my brethren. What a fund of stupidity, negligence, and corruption, nmst a man have to resist it? Is this the religion wo nmst oppose in order to be damned? " U Israel, thou hast destroyed thyself." 111. Well, well, we grant, say you, we are stupid not to avail ourselves of sucli advanta- ges as religion sots before us, we are negligent, we are depraved: but all this depravity, neg- ligence, iuid stu|>idity, are natural to us; we bring these dispositions into the world with us, wo did not make ourselves; in a word, we are naturally inclined to evil, and incapable of do- ing good. This religion teaclies, of tiiis we are convinced by our own feelings, and the ex- perience of all mankind confirms it. This is the third dilHculty concerning the proposition in the text, and it is taken from the condition of huinim nalure. In answer to this, 1 say, that the objection implies four vague notions of human depravity, each erroneous, and all removable by a clear explication of the subject. 1. When we speak of our natural impotence to practise virtue, we confound it wilb an in- surmountable necessity to connnit tiie greatest criu)es. We may bo in the first case without being in the second. We may be sick, and in- capiiblo of procuring medicines to restore health, without being invincibly impelled to aggravate our condition by taking poison for food, and a dagger for physic. A man may be in a pit without ability to get out, and yet not be invincibly compelled to tlirow himself into a chasm beneath him, deeper and darker, and more terrible still. In like mamjcr, we may be so enslaved by de|>ravity as not to be able to part with any thing to relieve the jxtor, and yet not so as to be absolutely com[)ellcd to rob them of the alms bestowed on them by others, and so of the rest. It seems to me, my brethren, that this dis- tinction has not been attended to in discourses of human depravity. Let [jcople allege this im|)Oteuce to e.tcul|)ale tlicmsclves for not practising virtue, witli all my heart: but to allege it in excuse of odious crimes practised every day freely, willingly, and of set purpose, is to form such an idea of natural depravity as no divine has ever given, and such as can never be given wilb the least appeanmce of trutli. iSO sermon, no body of (Hviuily, no council, no synod ever said that human de- pravity was so great as absolutely to force a man to becomo an a.sHassin, a murderer, a slanderer, a ])lunderer of the fortune, and a destroyer of the life of his neiglibour, or, what is worse than either, a nmrderer of his reputa- tion and honour. IJad such a pro[)osition been advanci-'d, it would not be the more probable for that, and nothing ought to induce us to spare it. Monsters of nature! who, after you have taken pains to eradicate from your hearts such fibres of nature as sin seems to have left, would you attemjit to exculjjate yourselves.' you who, al"ler you have rendered yourselves in every instance unlike God, would carry your madness so far as to render God like yourselves by accusing him of creating you with dispositions, which oblige you to dip your hands in iimocent blood, to build your houses with the sjxiils of widows and orphans, and to connnit crimes subversive of society? Cîease to aiiirm, these are natural dispositions. No, they are accjuired dispositions. That part of religion which i)roliibits your excesses, is practi- cable by you without the supernatural aid neces- sary to a thorough conversion. 2. When wc speak of natural depravity, we confound the pure virtue that religion inspires with other virtues, which constitution, educa- tion, and motives of worldly honour, are suffi- cient to enable us to practise. I grant, you caimot practise such virtues as have the love of God for tlii^ir principle, order for their mo- tives, and perfection for their end: but you may at least acknowledge your natural depra- vity, and exclaim, " O wretched man that I am, who shall deliver me from tlic body of this death?" You may at least exclaim with the magician mentioned by a poet, I see and ap- prove of the best things, though I practise the worst. You may do more, you may practise some superficial virtues, which the very hea- thens, not in covenant with God, exemplified. You may be cautious like Ulysses, temperate like Scii)io, chaste like Polemon, wise like So- crates. If tiien you neglect this sort of virtue, and if your negligence ruin you, " your destruc- tion is of yourselves." 3. When we speak of natural depravity, we confound that of a man born a pagan with only the light of reason with that of a Christian, born and educated among Christians, and amidst all the advantages of revelation. This vague way of talking is a consequence of the miserable custom of taking detached pa.ssages of Scri|)ture, considering them only in them- selves without any regard to connexion of time, place, or circumstance, and applying them in- discriminately to their own im;iginations and systems. The inspired writers give us dread- ful descriptions of the state of believers before their being called to Christianity: they call this state " a niglit, a death, a nothing," in re- o-ard to the practice of virtue, and certainly tlie state of a m;ui now living without religion under tlie gospel economy may be properly described in the same manner: but I affirm, that tiicse expressions must be taken in a very diflerent sense. " This night, this death, this notliing," if I may be allowed to speak so, have ditlereiit degrees. The degrees in regard to a native pagan are greater than those in regard' ti) :i native Christian. What then, my bre- tliren, do you reckon for nothing all the caie 120 THE CAUSE OF THE DESTRUCTION [Ser. LXVU. t&ken of you in your infancy, all the instruc- tions given you in your childhood by your pious mthers and mothers, all the lessons they procured others to give you, all the tutors who have given you information! Wliat! agreea- ble books put into your hands, exhortations, directions, and sermons, addressed to you, you reckon all these things for nothing! What! •you make no account of the visits of your pastors, when you thought yourselves dying, of the proper discourses tliey directed to you concerning your past negligence, of your own resolutions and vows! 1 ask, do you reckon all this for nothing? All these efforts have been attended with no good effect: but you are as ambitious, £is worldly, as envious, as covet- ous, as eager in pursuit of lasciviousness, as ever the heathens were, and you never blush, nor ever feel remorse, and all under pretence that tlie gospel teaches us we are frail, and can do nothing without the assistance of God! 4. In fine, my brethren, when we speak of the depravity of nature, we confine the con- dition of a man, to whom God has given only exterior revelation, with the condition of him to whom God offers supernatural aid to assist him against his natural frailty, which prevents his living up to external revelation. Does he not offer you this assistance? Does not the holy Scripture teach you in a hundred places that it is your own fault if you be deprived ofiL> Recollect only the famous words of St. James, which were lately explained to you in this pulpit with the greatest clearness, and pressed home with the utmost pathos.* "If any of you lack wisdom, let him ask of God, tliat giveth to all men liberally, and upbraid- etb not, and it shall be given him." God gives to all men liberally, to all without exception, and they who are deprived of this wisdom ought to blame none but themselves, not God, who gives to all men liberally, and upbraids not. True, to obtain it, we must ask with a de- sign to profit by it; we must ask it " nothing wavering," that is, not divided between the hope and the fear of obtaining it: we must not be like those " double-minded men, who are unstable in all their ways," who seem by ask- ing wisdom to esteem virtue, but who discover by the abuse they make of that wisdom they have, that virtue is supremely hateful to them. We must not resemble the " waves of tiie sea" which seem to offer the spectator on a shore a treasure, but which presently drown him in gulfs from which he cannot possibly free him- self. Did God set this wisdom before us at a price too higlL"" Ought we to find fault with him for refusing to bestow it, while we refuse to apply it to tliat moral use which justice re- «juires? Can we desire God to bestow his grace on such as ask for it only to insult him? O! tiiat we were properly affected with the greatness of our depravity, and the shame of our slavery! IJut our condition, all scanda- lous and horrible as it is, seems to us all full of cliarms. When we arc told that sin has subverted nature, infected the air, confounded in a man- ' Till» rrmarU inilirHirs n criiKrous (cingler in Sikurin, to apeak, haudauuicly uf liis colleague». ner cold with heat, heat with cold, wet with dry, dry with wet, and disconcerted the beau- tiful order of creation, which constituted the happiness of creatures; when we cast our eyes on the maladies caused by sin, the vicissitudes i occasioned by it, the dominion of death over all creatures, which it has established; when we see ourselves stretched on a sick bed, cold, pale, dying, amidst sorrows and tears, fears and pains, waiting to be torn from a world we idolize; then we detest sin, and groan under the weight of its chains. Should that Spirit, ' who knocks to-day at tht door of our hearts, say to us, open, sinner, I will restore nature to its beauty, the air shall be serene, and all the ele- ments in harmony, I will confirm your health, reanimate your enfeebled frame, lengtlien your life, and banish for ever from your houses death, that death which stains all your rooms with blood: Ah! every heart would burn with ardour to possess this assistance, and every one of my hearers would make these walls echo with, Come, Holy Spirit, come and dry up our tears by putting an end to our maladies. But when we are told, that sin has degraded us from our natural dignity; that it has loaded us with chains of depravity; that man, a crea- ture formed on the model of the divine perfec- tions, and required to receive no other laws than those of order, is become the sport of un- worthy passions, which move him as they please, which say to him, go and he goeth, come and he cometh, which debase and vilify him at pleasure, we are not affected with these mortifying trutlis, but we glory in our shame! Slaves of sin! Captives under a heavier yoke than that of Pharaoh, in a furnace more cruel than that of Egypt! Behold your Deli- verer! He comes to-day to break your bonds and set you free. The assistance of grace is set before you. What am I saying? An abundant measure is already communicated to you. Already you know your misery. Al- ready you are seeking relief from it. Avail yourselves of this. Ask for this succour, and if it be refused you, ask again, and never cease asking till you have obtained it. Recollect, that the truths we have been preaching are the most mortifying of religion, and the most proper to humble us. It waa voluntarily, that we so often rebelled against God. Freely, alas! freely, and witliout com- pulsion we have, some of us, denied tlie trutlia of religion, and others given mortal wounds to the majesty of its laws. Ah! Are there any tears too bitter, is there any remorse too cut- ting, any cavern in the earth too deep, to expi- ate the guilt of such a frightful character! Remember, the truths we have been teach- ing are full of consolation. This part of my text, " O Israel, thou hast destroyed thyself," is connected with the other part, " but in me is thine help." God yet entreats us not to de- stroy ourselves. God has not yet given us up. He does not know, pardon tliis expression, he is a stranger to tiiat point of lionour, which often engages us to turn away for ever from those who have treated us with contempt. He, lie himself, tlic great, the mighty God does not thmk it beniKilJi him, not unworthy of his glorious majesty, yet to entreat us to rolurn Sbr. LXVIII.] THE GRIEF OF THE RIGHTEOUS, &c. 121 to him and be liappy. O "mercy," that " reacheth to the heavens!" O " faithfuhiess, reachinjT unto the clouds!" What consolations flow from you to a soul afraid of having ex- hausted you! Above all, think, think, my brethren, tiiat the truth we liave been preaciiing will be- come one of the most cruel torments of the damned. Devouring flame, kindled by divine vengeance in hell, I have no need of your light; smoke ascending up for ever and ever, I have no need to be struck with your black- ness; chains of darkness that weigh down the damned, I have no need to know your weight, to enable me to form lamentable ideas of the punishments of the reprobate, the truth in my text is sufficient to make me conceive your horror. Being lost, it will be renicinb«red that there was a time wlien destruction might have been prevented. One of you will recol- lect the education God gave you, another the sermon he addressed to you, a third the sick- ness he sent to reform you: conscience will be obliged to do homage to an avenging God, it will be forced to allow, that the aid of the Spirit of God was mighty, the motives of tlie gospel powerful, and the duties of it practica- ble. It will be compelled to acquiesce in this terrible truth, "thou hast destroyed thyself " A condemned soul will incessantly be its own tormentor, and will continually say, I am the author of my own punishment, I might have been saved, I opened and entered this horrible gulf of myself. Inculcate all these great truths, Christians, let Ihem affect you, let them persuade you, let them compel you. God grant you tlie grace! To him be honour and glory for ever. Amen. SERMON LXVIII. THE GRIEF OF THE RIGHTEOUS FOR THE MISCONDUCT OF THE WICKED. Psalm cxix. 36. Rivers of walers run dotcn mine eijes, because they keep not thy law. Few people are such novices in religion as not to know, that sinners ought not to be troubled for their own sins; but it is but here and there a man, who enters so much into the spirit of religion as to understand how far the sins of others ought to trouble us. David was a model of both these kinds of penitential grief- Repentance for his own sins is immortalized in his penitential psalms: and would to God, instead of that fatal security, and that unmean- ing levity, which most of us discover, even af- ter we have grossly offended God, would to God, we had the sentiments of this penitent! His sin was always before him, and imbittered all the pleasures of life. You know the lan- tuage of his grief " Have mercy on mo, O pord, for I am weak, my bones are vexed. Mine iniquities are gone over mine head: as a heavy burden they are too heavy for me. Out of the depths have I cried unto thee, O Vol. IL— 16 Lord. I acknowledge my transgression, and my sin is ever before me. Deliver mo from blood-guiltiness, O God, thou God of my sal- vation. Restore unto me the joy of thy salva- tion, that the bones whicJi thou hast broken may rejoice." iJut as David gives ua such proper models of penitential expressions of grief for our own sins, so he furnishes us with others as just for lamenting the sins of others. You have heard the text, " river» of waters run down mine eyes, because tltey keep not thy law." Read the psahn from which the text is taken, and you will find that our prophet shed three sorts of tears for the sins of others. The first were tears of zeal: the second flowed from love: the third from self-interest. This is a kind of peiiitnnce, which 1 propose to-day to your emu- lation. In tlie first place, I will describe the insults which a sinner offers to God, and will endea- vour to siiow you, that it is impossible for a good man to see his God aff'ronted in this man- ner without being extremely grieved, and shedding tears of ;t«/. In the second place, I will enumerate the miseries, into which o siniur plunges himself by his obstinate perseverance in sin, and 1 will endeavour to convince you, that it is impossi- ble for a good man to see this without shed- ding tears of pity and love. In the third place, I sliall show you, if 1 per- ceive your attention continue, the disorders which sirmers cause in society, in our cities and families, and you will perceive, that it is impossible for a good man to see the prosperity of society every day endangered and damaged by its enemies without shedding tears of self- interest. Almighty God, whose " tender mercies are over all thy works," but whose adorable Pro- vidence condemns us to wander in a valley of tears; O condescend, " to put our tears into thy bottle," and to gather us in due time to that happy society in which confonnity to thy laws is the highest happiness and glory! Amen. I. David shed over sinners of his time, tears of zeal. Thus he expresses himself in the psalm from which we have taken the te.xt, " My zeal hath consumed me, because raino enemies have forgotten thy words." But what is zeal.' How many people, to exculpate themselves for not feeling this sacred flame, ridicule it as a phantom, tlie mark of an enthu- siast? However, there is no disposition more real and sensible. The word zeal is vague and metaphorical, it signifies fire, heat, warmth, and applied to intelligent beings, it means the activity and vehemence of their desires, hence, in common style, it is attributed to all the pas- sions indifferently, good and bad: but it is most commonly applied to religion, and there has two meanings, the one vague, the other precise. In a vague sense, zeal is put less for a parti- cular virtue, than for a general vigour and vivacity pervading all the powers of the soul of a zealous man. Zeal is opposed to luke- warmness, and lukewarmness is not a particu- lar vice, but a dulness, an indolence liiac ac- companies and enfeebles all the exercises of 122 THE GRIEF OF THE RIGHTEOUS [Skr. LXVIII. the religion of a lukewarm man. On the con- trary, zeal ia a tire animating all tlie emotions of the piety of tlie man who has it, and giving them all the worth and weight of vehemence. But as the most noble exercises of religion are nuch na have God for their object, and as the virtue of virtues, or, as Jesus Christ ex- presses it, " the first and great commandment" is that of divine love, zeal is particularly taken (and this is the precise meaning of tiie word,) for loving God, not for a love limited and mo- derate, such as that which we ought to have for creatures, even creatures the most worthy of esteem, but a love boundless and beyond moderation, so to speak, like that of glorified spirits to the tiuprcme Intelligence, whose per- fections have no limits, whose beauties are infinite. The idea thus fi.xed, it is easy to compre- hend, that a soul animated with zeal, cannot see without the deepest sorrow, the insults of- fered by sinners to his God. What object is it that kindles tlames of zeal in an ingenuous •oui? It is the union of three attributes: an at- tribute of magnificence, an attribute of holi- ness, and an attribute of communication. This union can be found only in God, and for this reason God only is worthy of supreme love. Every being in whom any one of these three attributes is wanting, yea, any being in whom any degree is wanting, is not, cannot be an ob- ject of supreme love. In vain would God possess attributes of cha- ritable communication, if he did not possess attributes of magnificence. His attributes of communication would indeed inspire me with •entiments of gratitude: but what benefit should I derive from his inclination to make me happy, if he had not power sufficient to do so, and if he were not himself the happy God, that is, the origin, the source of all felicity, or, as an inspired writer speaks, " the parent of every good and every perfocl gift'" James i. 17. In this case he would reach a feeble hand to help me, he would shed unavailing tears over my ■liseries, and I could not say to him, my su- preme " good is to draw near to thee; whom have I in heaven but thee? and there is none upon earth that I desire beside thee," Ps. Lx.xiii. 28. 25. In vain would God possess attributes of ho- liness, if he did not possess attributes of com- munication. In this case he would indeed be an object of my admiration, but he could not be the ground of my hope. I should be struck •with the contemplation of a virtue always pure, always firm, and always alike: but in regard to me, it would be only an abstract and metaphy- •ical virtue, whicli could have no influence over my happiness. Follow this reasoning in regard to the other attributes, and you will perceive tliat nothing but a union of these three can render an object supremely lovely, and as this union can be found only in God, it is God only who can bo the object of zeal, or, what is the same tiling, expressed in other words, God alone is worthy of supreme love. As we make a progress in our meditation, and in proportion as we acijuire a just notion of true zeal, we shall enter into the spirit and meaning of the words of our psalmist. Do you love God as he did.^ Does your heart bum like his, with flames of divine zeal? Then you can finish the first part of my discourse, for you know by experience this disposition of mind, " my zeal hath consumed me, because mine enemies have forgotten thy words. Ri- vers of waters run down mine eyes because they keep not thy law." Sinners, I do not mean such aa sin through infirmity and surprise, the text does not Bp>eak of them, I mean such as sin openly, freely, and deliberately, these sinners attack the perfec- tions of God, either his attributes of magni- ficence, or those of holiness, or those of com- munication, and sometimes all three together. Tiiey endeavour to disconcert the beautiful harmony of the divine perfections, and so to rob us of all we adore, the only worthy object of our esteem. They attack the magnificence of God. Such are those madmen who employ all ihe depths of tiieir erudition, all the acutcness of their genius, and all the fire of their fancy to ob- scure the eternity of the first cause, the infi- nity of his power, the infallibility of his wis- dom, and every other perfection that makes a part of that complexure, or combination of excellences, which we call magnificence. — Such, again, are those abominable characters, who supply the want of genius with the de- pravity of their hearts, and the blasphemies of their mouths, and who, riot being able to attack him with sp>ecious reasons and plausible so- phisms, endeavour to stir up his subjects to rebel, defying his power, and trying whether it be possible to deprive him of the empire of, the world. Some sinners attack the attributes of holi- ness in the perfect God. Such are those de- testable men, who presume to tax him with falsehood and deceit, who deny the truth of his promises, who accuse his laws of injus- tice, and his conduct of prevarication, who would persuade us, that the reins of the uni- verse would be held much more wisely by their impure hands than by those of the judge of all the earth. Some sinners attack the attributes of com- munication. Such, in the first instance, are tiiose ungrateful persons, who, while they breathe only his air, and live only on his ali- ments, while only his earth bears, and only his sun illuminates them, while they neither live, nor move, nor have a bemg, but what they derive from him, while he opens to them the path to supreme happiness, I mean the road to feitii and obedience, pretend that he is wanting in goodness, charge bin» with all the miseries into which they have the madness to plunge themselves, dare to accuse him with taking pleasure in tormenting his creatures, and in the sulferings of the unfortunate; who wish the goodness of tlie Supreme Being were regulated by their caprice, or rather by their madness, and will never consent to worship him as good, except he allows them with im- punity to gratify their most absurd and guilty passions. Observe too, people may be profane by ac- tion as well as by system and reasoning. If simiers attack the attributes of God directly, it is equally true, they make an indirect attack upon the same peribctions. Ser. LXVIII.] THE MISCONDUCT OF THE WICKED 123 Here I wish, my brethren, each of us liad accustomed himself to derive his morahty from evangelical sources, to hear the language of inspired writers, and to judge of his own ac- tions, not by such Hattcring portraits as his own prejudices produce, but by the essential pro- perties of morality as it is described in the word of God. For example, what is a man who coolly puts himself under the protection of another man without taking any thought about the guar- dianship of God? He is a profane wretcii, who declares war against God, and attacks his at- tributes of magnificence by attributing more power to the patron, under whose wing he creeps and thinks himself secure, than to that God who takes the title of King of kings. — What I say of confidence in a king, I alHrm of confidence in all other creatures, whoever or whatever tliey be. On this principle the psaltnist grounded this e.xhortation, put not your trust in princes, nor in the son of man, in whom there is no help. His breath goetii forth, he returneth to his earth, in that very day his thoughts perish." On this principle is I this other declaration of a prophet founded, | " cursed be the man that trusteth in man, j and maketh flesh his arm." And it is on ; this principle that sacred history imputes so 1 great a crime to Asa, because when he fell ' sick, and saw himself reduced to extremity, I " he sought to the physicians, and not to the ! Lord." • I What is a man who gives up his heart to idolize any particular object? What is a man who follows certain sympathies, a certain se- cret influence, certain charms omnipotent to him, because he chooses to yield to their om- nipotence? He is a profane wretch, who declares war against God, and who attacks his attributes of communication; he is a man, who attests by his conduct that there is more pleasure in his union to his idol than there can be in communion with God; he is a man, who maintains by his actions that this creature to whom he gives himself up without reserve, merits more love, and knows how to return love with more delicacy and constancy than that God, who is the only model of per- fect love; he is a man who resists this invita- tion of eternal wisdom, " my son, give me thine heart," and who disputes a truth, that ought to \)c. considered as a first principle in a system of love, " in thy presence is fulness of joy, at thy right hand there are pleasures for evermore," Ps. xvi. 11. Let us abridge this part of our discourse, and let us return to the chief end proposed. A sinner, who sins openly, freely, of set pur- pose, attacks the attributes of God, either his attributes of greatness, or his attributes of com- munication, or his attributes of holiness, some- times all the three together. A good man, wlio sincerely loves God, can he look with in- diftcrence on such insults offered to the object of his love? And in which of the saints whom the inspired writers have proposed as exam- ples to you, have you discovered this guilty in- difference? Behold Moses! He comes down from the holy mountain, he hears thç. acclamations of those madmen who were celebrating a foolish feast in honour of their idol, and he replies to .Joshua, who thought it was a war shout, " Ah! no, it is not the voice of them that shout for ma.stery, neither is it the voice of thern that cry for being overcome, but the noise of them that sing do I hear," Exod. xxxii. 18. Con- vinced by his own eyes, he trembles at the sight, breaks the tables of the law, on which God had engraven with his own adorable hand the clauses of the covenant which this people were now violating, he runs to the " gate of the ramp," and cries, "who is on the Lord's side? Let liim come unto me!" And when " all the sous of Levi gathered themselves unto him, he said unto them, put every man his sword by his side, and go in and out from gate to gate, throughout tlie ramp, and slay every mail his brother, and every man his compan- ion, and every man his neighbour," ver. -6, 27. See Fhinehas. Ho perceives Moses and Aaron " weeping at tiie door of the tabernacle," be- cause the people had forsaken the worship of God, and gone over to that of Raal-peor; touched with llieir giicf he " rises up," quits the congregation, " takes a javelin in his hand" and stabs an Israelite (with the immodest Mi- dianitc,) who had enticed the people, into this abominable idolatry. Behold Elijah. " I am very jealous," says he, "for the Lord God of hosts, for the children of Israel have forsaken his covenant, thrown down his altars, and slain his prophets with the sword," 1 Kings xix. 10. Remark St. Paul. " His spirit was stirred in him, to see a nation, in other respects the most learned and polite, rendering to " an unknown God" such homage as was due to none but the Most High, whose " glory the Heavens declare, and whose handy work the firmament showeth." Behold the royal prophet, " Do not I hate them, O Lord, that hate thee? And am I not grieved with those that rise up against thee? I hate them with perfect hatred, I count them mine rtiemies," Ps. cxxxix. 21, 22. " My zeal hath consumed me, because mine enemies have for- gotten thy words. Rivers of waters run down mine eyes, because they keep not thy law." " Rivers of tears," tears of which my zeal for thy glory is the first cause. II. Although the sinner be hateful as a sin- ner, yet as an unhappy person he is an object of pity, and it is possible he may preclude fu- ture ills by repentance. As to love God with all the heart is the first and great command- ment, so " the second is like unto it, thou shalt love thy neighbour as thyself" Sin is a source of misery to a sinner, and it is impossible for a good man to see, without shedding tears of love and pity, the depths of wo into which peo- ple united to him by bonds of affection plunge themselves by their obstinacy in sin. Every thing favours this subject. In regard to the present life, a man living according to laws of virtue is incomparably more happy than he who gives himself up to vice. So the Holy Spirit has declared, " godliness hath pro- mise of the life that now is," 1 Tim. iv. 8. Though this general rule has some exceptions, yet they cannot regard the serenity of mind, the peace of conscience, the calm of the pas- sions, the confidence of good men, their stea- diness in the calamities of life, and their in- trepidity at the approach of death. All these 124 THE GllIKF OF THE RIGHTEOUS FOR [Ser. LXVIII. advantages and many others, without which the inuHt brilliant condition, and tlie most de- licious life, are only a splendid slavery, and a source of grief, all these advantages, I say, are inseparable from piety. A charitable man can- not see, witliout deep aftliction, objects of his tenderest love renounce such inestimable ad- vantages, poison the pleasure of their own life, open an inexhaustible source of remorse, and prepare for themselves racks and tortures. But, my breliiren, these are only the least subjects of our present contemplation. We have other bitter rerieclions to make, and other tears to shed, and tliere is an exposition of charity more ju.st, and at the same time more lamentable, of the words of my te.xt, "Rivers of waters run down mine eyes, because they keep not thy law." 1 am tiiinking of the eternal misery in which sinners involve themselves. We are united to sinners by tics of nature, by bonds of society, and by obligations of religion, and wiio can iielp trembling to think that persons round whom so many tendrils of atlectionate ligaments twine, should be threatened with everlasting torments! Some people are so nmch struck with this thought, that they think, when we shall be in heaven all ideas of people related to us on earth will be eftaccd from our memory, that we siiall entirely lose the power of remembering, that we shall not even know such as share celestial happiness with us, lest the idea of such as are deprived of it should diminish our pleasure, and imbitter our happiness. Jt would be easy, in my opinion to remove this dilliculty, if it were necessary now. In heaven order, and order alone will be the foundation of our ha|)piness; and if order condenms the persons wc shall have most esteemed, our happiness will not be af- fected by their misery. Wo shall love only in God; we shall feel no attachment to any, who do not love God as wc do: their cries will not move us, nor will their torments excite out compassion. Hut while we arc in this world, God would have us affected with the misery that threatens a sinner, that our own feelings may excite us to prevent it. You have sometimes admired one of the most marvellous phenomena of na- ture; nature has united us together by invisible bonds, it has formed our fibres in perfect unison with the fibres of our neighbour; wc cannot see him exposed to violent pain without receiving a counter blow, an unvaried tone that sounds relief to him, and forces us to a.ssist him. This is the work of that Creator, whose infinite good- ness is seen in all his productions, lie intends that these sentiments of commiseration in us should bo si> many magazines to sui)ply what the temporal miseriesof our neighbours require. So in regard to eternity, there is a harmony, and, if vou will allow the expression, there is a unison of spirits. While we are in this world, an idea of the eternal destruction of a peinon we esteem suspends the pleasure, which a hope of salvatiim promised to oursiîlvcs would other- wise cause. It is the work of the Creator, whoso gOi>dness shmesbrigliter in religion than in the works of nature. That horror, which is caused by a bare appearance, that the man wc so tenderly love should be reserved for eternal torments, I say, the bare suspi<-ion of such a calamitous event compels us to flee to the aid of the unhappy object of our esteem, to pluck him from the jaws of destruction by reclaiming' him from his errors with the force of exhorta- tion and the power of example. To combat these sentiments is to oppose the intention of God; to tear these from our hearts is to disrobe ourselves of that charity, without which there is no religion. Accordingly, the more a mind becomes per- fect in the exercise of this virtue, the more it has of this kind of sensibility. Hence it wa« that St. Paul so sharply reproved the Corin- thians, because they had not mourned on ac- count of that incestuous person, who had dis- graced their church. Hence it was that Moees, when he discovered that gross idolatry of which we just now spoke, gave himself up to the deep- est sorrow, and said to the Lord, " Oh, this people have sinned a great sin! Yet now, for- give their sin, and if not, blot me, I pray thee, out of thy book." Hence it was that Jeremiah said to the Jews of his time, who were going captives into a foreign land, where they woula be destitute of the comfort of religion, " give glory to God before he cause darkness, and before your feet stumble upon the dark moun- tains. But if ye will not hear it, my soul shall weep in secret places for your pride, and mine eyes shall weep sore, and run down with tears, because the Lord's flock is carried away cap- tive." Hence this declaration of Paul to the Philippians, " Many walk, of whom 1 have told you often, and now tell you even weeping, that they are the enemies of the cross of Christ." Hence it was that Jesus Christ, the chief model of charity, when he overlooked the unhappy Jerusalem, and saw the heavy judgments coining upon it, " wept over it," saying, " O that thou hadst known, even thou, at least in this thy day, the things which belong unto thy l)eace! but now they are hid from thine eyes." Here I venture to defy those of you, who glory in insensibility, to be insensible and void of feeling. No, nothing but the most confirmed inattention to futurity, nothing but the wretch- ened to me, he will receive this answer, " Verily, I say unto you, I know you not." This catechumen, in whoso mind I endeavoured to inculcate the truths of religion; a part of the men, whom I thought I had subdued to Jesus Christ; a great number of these hearers, whom I often told, that they would be my joy and crown in the day of the Lord (certainly " you are our joy and crown,") will perhaps be one day disowned by Jesus Christ in the face of heaven and earth. Ser. LXVIII.l THE MISCONDUCT OF THE WICKED. 125 This pastor, whom I considered as my guide in the way to heaven, this pastor will himself ex- Eerience all the horrors of that state, of which e gave me such dreadful ideas. This husband to whom Providence united me, this husband whom I esteemed as part of myself, I shall per- haps one day consider as my most mortal foe, I shall acquiesce in his damnation, I shall praise God and say, " Hallelujah, power belongeth unto the Lord our God! True and righteous are his judgments! Hallelujah, the smoke of the torment" of him whose company once con- stituted my happiness, " shall rise up for ever and ever!" This child, in behalf of whom I feel I e.xhaust all that the power of love has of tenderness, this child whose least cry pierces my soul, and who feels no pain without my feeling a thousand times more for him, this child will be seized with horror, when he shall see coming in the clouds of heaven surrounded with holy angels that Jesus whose coming will overwhelm me with joy: this child will then seek refuge in dens, and caverns, and ciiasms, he will cry in agony of despair, " Mountains and rocks, fall on me and hide me from the wrath of the Lamb!" He will be loaded with chains of darkness, he will be a prey to the worm that never dies, and fuel for the fire that will never be quenched, and when Jesus Christ shall say to me in that great day, " Come, thou blessed of my Father," I shall hear this dread- ful sentence denounced against this child, " de- part, thou cursed, into everlasting fire prepared for the devil and his angels." Too just a subject of grief! " Rivers of waters," tears of love and pity, " run down mine eyes: because they keep not thy law." III. So earnestly do I desire to have your attention fixed on the objects just now men- tioned, that I shall hardly venture to finish the | plan proposed, and to proceed to a third part of this discourse. I wish you were so alarmed with the eternal misery that threatens to over- whelm your fellow-citizens and friends, your ; husbands and children, and so employed to pre- vent it, that you were become as it were in- | sensible to the temporal ills to which the ene- I mies of God expose you. However, we do not I pretend that love to our neighbours should i make us forget what we owe ourselves. As the excesses of the wicked made our prophet | shed tears of charity, so they caused him to shed t tears of self-interest. i The wicked are the scourges of society. One seditious person is often sufficient to dis- turb the state; one factious spirit is often enough ' to set a whole church in a flame; one profligate : child is often enough to poison the pleasure of the most happy and harmonious family. Good people are generally the butts of the wicked. A wicked man hates a good man. He hates ! him, when he has not the power to hurt him, ' because he has not had the pleasure of hurting him; he hates him, after he has injured him, ' because he considers him as a man always ready : to revenge the art'ront oftered him; and if he i thinks him superior to revenge, he hates him ; because he is incapable of vengeance, and be- cause the patience of the oflended and the rage | of the offender form a contrast, which renders ; the latter abominable in the eyes of all equitable j people. A good man, on the contrary, is happy in the company of another good man. What coun- trymen feel, when they meet in a foreign land where interests and customs, maxims and views, all different from those of the land of their nativity, resembles the pleasures balievers experience when they associate in a world where they are only strangers and pilgrims. Accordingly, one of the most ardent wishes of our prophet was, to be always in company with j)eople of this kind, " I am a companion of all tlicm that fear thee, and of them that keep thy j)rccepts," said he to God. In another place, " I will early destroy all the wicked of the land, that I may cut off all wicked doers from the city of the Lord." And again, "All my delight is in the excellent saints that are in the earth." But how few of these saints did he find! Most of his misfortunes were brought on him by the very sinners whose depravity he deplores. They were the poison of his life, and them he always saw standing ready to persecute him, and to discharge against his person the impotent malice they had against that God whose servant he considered it as his glory to be. Does our age differ in this respect from that of David? Are saints more numerous now than they were thea' May a good man promise himself among you more approbation, more countenance and support, than tlie psalmist found? This is an odious question, and our doubts may seem to you illiberal. Well, we will not press it. But if the bulk of you be saints, this country must be the most delicious part of the whole universe. A good man must be as haj)- py as it is possible to be in this world. In these provinces, free by constitution, opulent by trade, invincible by alliances, and perfectly safe by the nature of their government from tyrants and tyranny, if the number of saints be greater in these provinces than that of the wicked, it must be the most delicious of all residences in this world for a good man: if he stumbles, you will charitably save him from falling, if he errs, you will patiently bear with him, and gently reclaim him; if he be oppressed, you will assist him with firmness and vigour; if he form schemes of piety, charity, and reformation, you will second him with eagerness and zeal; if he sacrifice his healtii, and ease, and fortune, for our good, you will reward him with gratitude, yea with profusion. May a good man promise himself all this among you? Alas! to be only willing to devote himself to truth and virtue, is often suflicient to cause him to be beset round with a company of contradictors and opposera. But we will not engage too deeply in such gloomy reflections, we will finish the discourse, and can we finish it in a manner more suitable to the emotions of piety that assembled you in this solemn assembly, than by repeating the prayer with which we began? Almighty God! whose adorable judgments condemns us to wan- der in a valley of trouble, and to live, sometimes to be united by indissoluble ties, among men who insolently brave thy commands. Almighty God! grant we may be gathered to that holy society of blessed spirits, who place their hap- piness in a perfect conformity to thine august laws. The occupation of the blessed in heaven, 126 THE GRIEF OF THE RIGHTEOUS, &c. [8br. Lxvni. (and this is one of the most beautiful images under which a man who loves his God, can represent tho happiness of heaven,) the em- ployment of the blessed in heaven is to serve God; tlieir delight is to serve God; tho design of all Wie plans, and all the actions, and the motions of tho blessed in heaven, is to serve God. And as the most laudable grief of a be- liever in this unhappy world, which sin makes a theatre of bloody catastrophes, and a habita- tion of maledictions, is to see the unworthy inhabitants violate the laws of their Creator, so the purest joys of the blessed, is to see them- selves in a society where all the members are always animated with a desire to please God, always ready to fly where his voice calls them, always collected in studying his holy laws. This is the society to which you, my dear brethren, are appointed; you who, after tho example of Lot, vex your righteous souls from day to day at seeing the depravity of the world; you, I mean, "who shine as lights in the midst of a crooked and perverse nation." Into that society those happy persons are gone, whom death has taken from us, and a separation from whom has caused us so many sighs and tears. Behold, faithful friend! behold the company where now resides that friend to whom "your soul was knit, as the soul of .Jonathan was knit with the soul of David! See, thou weeping Joseph! See that society where thy good fa- ther now is, that good Jacob whom thou didst convey to the grave with tears so bitter, that the inhabitants of Canaan called the place where thou didst deposit the body, " Abel- Mizraim, a grievous mourning to the Egyp- tians." Look, frail father! look at that society, there is thy son, at whose death thou didst ex- claim, " O Absalom, my son, would God I had died for thee, O Absalom, my son, my son!" And you, too, distressed Rachels! whose voices are heard lamenting, weeping, and mourning, refusing to be comforted, because your children are not; see, behold there in heaven your chil- dren, the dear objects of your grief and your love! Oh! " Blessed arc the dead that die in the Lord! I shall go to him, but he shall not return to me." Let us apply tliis thought of the pro- phet to ourselves, and may the application we make, serve for a balm to heal the wounds, which tho loss of our friends has occasioned! " They shall not return to us," they shall never return to this society. What a society! A so- ciety in which our life is nothing but a mise- rable round of errors and sins; a society where the greatest saints are great sinners; a society in which we are often obliged to communicate with the enemies of God, with blasphemers of his holy name, violators of his august laws! No, they shall not " return to us," and this is one consolation. But (and this is the other,) but " we shall go to them." They have done nothing but set one step before us into eternity; the pleasures they enjoy are increased by the hope of our shortly enjoying the same with them. They, with the highest transports, be- hold the mansions which Jesus Christ has pre- pared for us in the house of his Father. " I ascend unto my Father and your Father, and to my God and your God," said our divine Redeemer, to raise the drooping spirits of his apostles, stunned with the apprehension of his approaching death. This is the language we have heard spoken, this is the declaration we have heard made by each of those whom we have had the consolation of seeing die full of the peace of God, "1 ascend unto my. Father and your Father, and to my God and your God." O may we be shortly united in the bosom of this adorable Being with our departed friends, whose conversation was lately so de- lightful to us, and whose memory will always continue respected and dear! May we be united with the redeemed of all nations, and kindreds, and people, and tongues, in the pre- sence of the blessed God! God grant us this grace! To him be honour and glory, for ever. Amen. ADVERTISEMENT. Gabriel Dumont, author of the following essay, was born at Crest, in Dauphiny, August 19th, 1680, and died at Rotterdam, Janu- ary 1st, 1748. He was a refugee for religion, pastor of the Waloon church at Rotterdam, and professor of Oriental languages and Ecclesi- astical history. He published nothing himself during his life; but, after his decease, Mr. Superville, his colleague, published, with a short preface, one volume of his sermons, containing twelve discourses, the most plain, artless, and edifying that I have ever had the happiness of reading; not so disputatious as those of Amyraut, not so grave as those of Superville, not so stiff as those of Torne and Bourdaloue, not so far-fetched and studied as those of Massillon, nor so charged with colouring as those of Saurin: but placid, ingenious, gentle, natural, and full of evidence and pathos: just as " wisdom from above" should be, " pure, peaceable, mild — full of mercy and good fruits — sown in peace to make peace," James iii. 17, 18, The public owe this volume to Mademoiselle de Heuqueville, the pious patroness and friend of the author, who had, as it were, extorted them from him before his death. Mr. Saurin, who published this essay in his dissertations on the Bible, says, " I follow our version, and the general sense of interpre- ters. A learned man (Mr. Dumont,) has investigated the subject at large, and, if he does not furnish us with demonstrations in favour of the system he proposes, yet his conjectures are so full of erudition, and so very probable, that we cannot help admiring them, while we feel an inclination to dispute them." For my part, I own, if I may venture a conjecture, I think Mr. Du- mont has placed his opinion in a light both beautiful, and, in a very high degree, probable. To sum up his meaning, he would read the passage thus: — 1 Samuel, chap. xxi. Ver. 10. And David fled that day for fear of Saul, and went to Achish, the king of Gath. 11. And the servants of Achish said unto him, Is not this David the king of the land? did they not sing one to another of him in dances, saying, Saul hath slain his thousands, and David his ten thousands? 12. And David was struck to the heart with these words, and was sore afraid of Achish, king of Gath. 13. And he changed countenance before them, and fell convulsed into their hands, and he hurt and marked himself against the posts of the gate, and he frothed on his beard. 14. Then said Achish unto his servants, Lo, you see the man is epileptic: wherefore then have you brought him unto me? 15. Have I need of epileptics, that ye have brought this man to fall into convulsions in my presence? Shall this fellow come into my house? AN ESSAY ON THE CONDUCT OF DAVID AT THE COURT OF ACHISH, KING OF GATH, IK A LETTER OF MR. DUMONT PASTOR OF THE FRENCH CHURCH AT ROTTERDAM, AND PROFESSOR OF THE ORIENTAL LANGUAGES, AND ECCLESIASTICAL HISTORY TO MR. SAURIN, AT THE HAGUE. TRANSLATED BY ROBERT ROBINSON. AN ESSAY ON THE CONDUCT OF DAVID AT THE COURT OF ACHISH, KING OF GATII. Sir, I MAT venture to call the letter I have the honour to write you, " An apology for the con- duct of David at the court of king Achish," for my design is to prove three things: First, that if David had counterfeited madness on the occasion mentioned in the twenty-first chapter of the first book of Samuel, he would not have committed any sin. Secondly, that David did not feign himself mad, as is generally sup- posed. And thirdly, that this heir apparent to the crown of Israel, had not, at the court of Gath, the least degree of madness, either real or feigned. I. If you were a man who decided a point of morality by human authority, I might al- lege, in favour of this first article, the follow- ing distich of Cato: Insipiens eslo, cum tempus postulat, aut res; Stultitiam simulare loco, prudentia summft est.* Independently of this author, of whom we hard- ly know either the true name, the religion, the country, or the age, every body will allow that there is a good deal of wisdom required to play the fool properly. Madness is no sin, it is a disease of the mind, or rather of the brain. David, it is to be observed, during his pre- tended madness, said nothing criminal. He did a few apparent acts of a person insane. Why might he not be allowed to free himself from imminent danger by this prudent dissimu- lation.' To treat of this question fully and ac- curately, it would be necessary to go to the bottom of the subject, and examine the grounds and principles of the obligations men are un- der to speak and act sincerely to one another. It might not be improper to investigate this matter by inquiring, whether, in this recipro- cal engagement, there be any difference be- tween deceiving by words known and agreed on between mankind, and misleading, by ac- tions, the natural signs of the sentiments of our hearts. Particularly, it should be examin- ed, whether there be no cases in which this kind of contract is in a sort suspended, and whether David were not in one of these cases, in which he was not obliged so to act, as to convey to king Achish liis true and real senti- ments. But as I know, sir, you have examin- ed this subject in the case of Samuel, I will confine myself to two arguments, supported by a few facts, relative to the conduct attributed to David in order to justify him. First, his life was in danger; and will not a Dislicha Hr moribus, lib. ii. Disl. 18. Vol. II.— 17 man give all that he has for life? Have we not a right to do every thing except sin to avoid death? Blame, and welcome, the cruel policy of Dionysius of Sicily,* who sometimes spread a report that he was sick, and some- times that he had been assassinated by his sol- diers, with a design to discover, by the un- guarded conversation of his subjects, how they stood affected to his government, that he might have a pretence for proscribing such as were ill affected to his despotism. Censure, if you please, the king of Ithaca, and the astronomer Metonf for pretending to have lost their senses, the first for the sake of his continuing with his dear Penelope, and the Ifist to avoid accom- panying the Athenians in an expedition against Sicily. Pity, if you will, the two monks Si- meon and Thomas,]; who affected to play the fool, lest the extraordinary holiness of their lives should not be perceived. I freely give up these tyrants and hypocrites to the most se- vere criticism; and I am inclined to be of the opinion of Cicero, § who calls the finesse of Ulysses, non honestum consllmm, a disingenu- ous conduct. Form, if you think proper, the same opinion of the stratagem of the famous St. Ephraim,|| who, understanding that he was chosen bishop, and that they were going to force him to be ordained, ran into a public place, walked irregularly, let fall his robe, went eating along the streets, and did so many actions of this kind, that every body thought he had lost his senses. He watched his oppor- tunity, fled and concealed himself, and con- tinued to do thus till they had nominated another bishop. I will not pretend to say, whether this proceeded from his contempt of vain fflory, as Sozomen^ pretends, or from his great love of retirement, for he was xtru^ix,- f.,- ctyxv sfio-Tt)!. For my part, I make no scru- ple to say of this artifice, as well as of the trick he played Apollinaris,** ivon honestum consilium. But you, sir, who are such a good citizen, will you condemn the wise Solonjf for counterfeiting distraction, in order to divert his fellow-citizens of Athens from their resolu- tion to abandon Salamin, his country, to the inhabitants of Megara? You, sir, who are no ♦ Poljiuus Strataç. 1. v. cap. 2. S. 15, 16. t i£lian rariar. historiar. lib. xiii. cap. 12. t Evagrius. Hist. Eccles. lib. ir. cap. 34. i Cic. de officiis. lib. iii. cap. 26. II Soxomen Hist. Ijec\. lib. iii. cap. 16. IT Soz. ibid. ** Grec, de Nyssen Paneç. do 8. Ephr. \\ Diogenes Lacrl. lib. i. m Solone, 130 )AVID'S SUPPOSED MADNESS. enemy to prudence, will you disapprove the opinion given uf Lucius Junius Brutus,* Brutuj crut stulli sapicus imilator. He affected to be stupid, lest he should become suspected by Tarquin the proud, who had put to death his father and his eldest brother, for the sake of seizing their great wealth. It bhould seeni, that on supposition David acted a part when he was in danger of his life, in a place where he had fled for refuge, it would be a sufficient justification of iiis character to say, that he thought he might innocently make use of such a stratagem. 2. If the danger of losing his life be not suf- ficient, let it be observed farther, that the de- ception was directed to the Philistines, with whom the Israelites were then at war. This is a second argument to justify the conduct of David. When was it ever unlawful to use stratagems in war? Did not God, himself, order the Israelites to " lie in ambush" and " to tlee" before the inhabitants of Ai, in order " to draw them from the city?" Is there any less evil in affecting cowardice than there is in pretending to be deprived of reason? Where is the general, who would not be glad to take cities at the same price as Callicratidas of Cy- renef took the fort of Rlagnesia, by introduc- ing four soldiers, who pretended to be sick? You have observed, sir, in Buchanan's cxt^îl- lent history of Scotland,^ the manner in which king Duncan defeated the army of Swen king of Norway, who was besieging him in Perth. He sent the besiegers a great quantity of wine and beer, in which some herbs of noxious qualities had been infused, and while this so- porific was taking effect, he went into the camp, and put the whole army to the sword, except the prince of Norway, and ten soldiers, who had suspected the present made them by the enemy, and had not tasted the beverage. The herb is supposed to be the nolanum or stryclmos of Pliny, § the night shade, which in a certain quantity stupifies, in a greater quan- tity distracts, and if more than two drachms, causes death. For these two reiisons, then, I conclude that my first proposition is suffi- ciently clear. I said, if David had counter- feited madness, and played the fool, he would not have committed any sin: first, because liis life was in danger: and secondly, be- cause the Philistines were at war with his country. II. If any continue obstinately to maintain that the dissimulation of David was criminal, and opposite to sincerity and good faith, I have another string to my bow, to defend this illustrious refugee. I alfirm that David did not play the fool, and act a part; but that, be- ing seized with extreme fear at hearing the conveisation of the ministers of state, in the court of king Achish, he fell under a real ab- sence of mind, and behaved, in a few instances, * Dion. It. 1. t Polyiiiu» Slrata({. lilj. ii. cap. 27, S. I. { Burhanani Hist. Scolica. — Rem. This talc is not credited bjr ^omc liistorians, ntid indeed it appears higlily improb;ibl<- in itself. Mr. Guthrie calU it an iulainous and improt>able story. — Hist, of Scot. Vol. I. ^ Plia. Hist. Nat. lib. xxi. cap. 31.— Salinas ad Solin. 1>. 1066. like a man disordered in Ins senses. Sebas- tian Schmidt,* a celebrated Lutheran divine, proposed as a kind of problem, whether Pro- vidence might not permit David to be terri- fied into a momentary delirium, in order to efff'ct his deliverance. Mr. John Christian Ortlob, a learned man of Leipsicj published a dissertation, in I'lOO, on the delirium of David before king •'7c/iis/«, in which he shows, that the whole of the sacred text in Samuel natu- rally leads us to judge that David was so struck with the fear of sudden death, that for a few moments his understanding was ab8ent. As this thesis is little known in this country, and as it is curious in itself, you will not be displeased, sir, if I give you hero a sketch of what he says. 1 . Mr. Ortlob shows, that dissimulation was impracticable in David's condition. Either he artected to i)lay the fool the moment he was seized by the servants of the king, or only while he was in the presence of Achish. The text is contrary to the first, for it express- ly assures us that this madness of David was in consequence of the conversation that passed between Acliish and his officers in the pre- sence of David. Tlie second supposition is not at all likely, for it would have been very imprudent for him to begin to act his part in the presence of Achish; his officers would have discovered the artifice, and would have informed their master: beside, it is incon- ceivable that David should continue from his being first taken to that moment as mute as a fish, in order to conceal a design which re- quired a state of mind more tranquil than that of David could be, in a danger so imminent. 2. Next, Mr. Ortlob proceeds to prove, that David had a true and natural alienation of mind. The first proof is, his fear of danger. Da- vid, says the twelfth verse, " laid up the words in his heart, and was sore afraid of Achish the king of Gath." The terror that seized his soul affected the organs of his body, and dis- concerted the fibres of his brain. There are many e-Kamples of persons affected in like manner with sudden fear. Our learned au- thor relates tiie case of a girl of ten years of itge,! who was so terrified with thunder and lightning in a furious tempest, that she was seized with violent convulsions in her left arm and her left leg. Though she did not lose her senses, yet she was constrained to flee on the other foot along tlie wainscot of the chamber, and the company could not stop her. The next proof is taken from the expressions of the inspired writer, which simply and lite- rally explained, signify a real madness. " David changed his behaviour." It is in the Hebrew, his taste, that is his reason, for reason is, in man, what taste is in regard to aliments. " And he became mad" The Hebrew verb halal, in the conjugation hithpael, as it is here, always signifies in Scripture real, and not * D. Scbast. Sclimidiiis in 1 Sam. xxi. \ Uavidis delirium coram Achis. Lipsix, 1706, 4. |'. 24. t Kphcmcr. Med. Phys. Germ. Académie, cunoso- rum, An. 8. Ob»erv. 71. DAVID'S SUPPOSED MADNESS. 131 feigned madness; and there is nothing in the text which obliges us to depart from a sense that perfectly agrees with the simplicity of the history. The French and Englisli versions render it, he feigned himself mad; but they are wrong, for the original says nothing about feigning. " He scrabbled on the doors of the gate." Cornelius a Lapide thinks he wrote the letter tan to form the figure of the cross. Kabbi Schabtai, in a German book entitled Esrim Vearba,* was better informed, and he says David wrote on the gates of the palace, " The king owes mo a hundred thousand guilders, and his kingdom, fifty thousand." Mr. Ortlob, learned as he is, does not know so much as the Rabbi and the Jesuit. He contents himself with observing, tiiat David, all taken up with his delirium, and iiaving no instrument in his hand to write, scratched the gate with his fingers, like people in a malignant fever. He observes also, that the indecent manner in which David " let his spittle fall down upon his beard," is a natural and usual consequence of a delirium. His third proof is taken from the connexion of the whole history, which supposes and indi- cates real madness. " David changed his be- haviour:" the sacred author explains first in what this change consisted, it was in becoming mad in the presence of the king and his officers; and he adds two actions of madness, the one scratching and writing on the gates with his fingers, and the other drivelling on his beard. The last proof our author takes from tlie consequences. Achish gives David his life and liberty, as a man beneath his resentment. He was angry with those who brought a madman to him. David, on his side, escaped the. danger, recovered his spirits, and became him- self There is no reason to question whether he observed the precept given by himself in the thirty-fourth Psalm, which he composed, as well as the fifty-si.vth, to praise God for his deliverance. " keep thy lips from speaking guile," ver. 13. My second proposition w^s, that David did not feign himself mad, as is usually supposed; and Mr. (Jrllob, in this treatise, has justified David t'rom the cliargc of every kind of dis- simulation, and so far it gives me pleasure to follow him; lor this is an opinion more tole- rable than the former, but I must beg leave to dissent from this learned writer, and to state ill the next place my own opinion, for I do not think, as Mr. Ortlob does, that David had any degree of madness. in. I think the whole passage ought to be understood of an epilepsy, a convulsion of the whole body, with a loss of sense for the time. Judge, sir, of the reasons on which I ground this third proposition. 1. My first reason is taken from the original terms, which perfectly agree with an epilepsy. This is not easy to discover in our modern versions; but it is very plain in the Septuagint, and in the old Latin version, which our inter- preters often very injudiciously despise. The authors of both these versions were in a better condition than we are, to understand the force PrioUd in 170a and the real signification of Hebrew words and idioms. I am fully persuaded we ought to prefer these versions in the present case. David, said the sacred historian, changed his behtiviour, or his taste. The Septuagint reads it -;/./ -..-T. 10 )!(>5i -/.lio-iv x-jT'.v. fJe struggled or tossed himself in their hands. (For 1 think the preceding words in this version, " in that day he feigned," is one of those interpolations, which passed from the margin to the text; and that the words, "•<' iT^u,u-xi.^.i. i.-.i t:.= x;,areof some other version, and have got into the te.xt as the former.) The He- brew word halal is a general term, which sig- nifies to agitate one's self, to sliake, either by twinkling like the stars, or by applauding like some one, or by boasting of any thing of our own, which the Latins call jactare, jactare se: or by moving ourselves involuntarily, as a paralytic man docs, or a madman, or a person in convulsions, or one in excessive joy. The Septuagint could not translate the word here bolter tlian by -xfxijpio-xu, because rrxf^c-.f.; among the Greeks* is put for a distracted per- son, a demoniac, and because a body irregu- larly and involuntarily agitated is said -^ip^ci- eiCTi:».. Aristotlef uses it in the same sense. Having said that there seems somethimr in the soul of an intemperate man beside reason, and opposite to it, he adds, he is like a paralytic body, the patient aims to move the right hand or tlic right foot, and the left hand and the left foot move r-.'jvxvti-.v <., ra ae.TTît» -xfx:;tfi-rx.. The only difference is, we perceive irregular motions of the body, whereas those of the soul are invisible. The Vulgate translates in a manner more favourable still to my opinion, et coilabebatur inter manus eorum, he fell into their hands. Tlie term collabi, as well as ca- dere, and corruere, are applied to the epilepsy, which the Hebrews, like us, called the falling sickness. All these Latin words mav be seen in this sense in the first apology of Apuleius.J; He addresses himself to yEmilianus, his adver- sary, to justify himself from the accusation of having bewitclied one Thallus, who was fallen extremely ill with an epilepsy. Imo si verum velis, /Emiliane, tu potius caducus qui jam tot calumniis, cecidisti, neque enim gravius est corpore quam corde collabi, pede potius quam mente corruere, in cubiculo despui, quam in isto splendidissimo cœtu detestari. • Phavorinu! in voce irxfx^^pci. t Ariilol. £thicor. ad Nichunmcum, lib. 1. cap. 13. t Apuleius Apol. pro se ipso prima. 132 DAVID'S SUPPOSED MADNESS. S. ^nd he marked the posts of the gatts. Thig is the version of the late Mr. Martin, but allow nic to lay aside ail the versions of our modern divines, and even tlioso of the most celebrated Rabbios, and to abide by my Sep- tuagint and my \ulgate. Tiie Septuagint renders it «»" i-'-n.' !-■• t-, -.-j^-^i t, -v/i;,,and tlie Vulgate says, et impingcbat in ostia portia and he hurt himself, or he dashed himself against the posts of the gate. Munster" pretends indeed that the Latin interpreter first wrote, et pingebat in ostia portice, and that it was afterwards changed into impingebat; but though this in- genious conjecture has been adopted by able critics, yet it seems to me futile, because on the one hand tlie Vulgate evidently follows the Septuagint, and on the other, because the Latin interpreter would have contradicted himself, col- labebalur inter manus emum, et pingebat in ostia portice, if he fell into their hands how could he write, or scratch with his fingers on the gate or the door? Nor is it necessary with the cele- brated Lewis Capelf to suppose the change of a letter, and to say that the Septuagint reads vajaloph, instead of vajetau. I'lie verb tnva signifies to mark, to make an imj)ression, or some print with the hand, or an instrument, and to shake, and make the body tremble where the mark is imprinted. David was violently hurt against the posts of the gate, so that marks were left in liis tlesh. This signifi- cation of the verb is agreeable to the Chaldean language, in which teva signities to tremble, to shiver, and in the Arabic, where the same root signifies to be troubled or astonislied. 4. King Acliish uses another word, which modern translations render /uo/, madman. Lo, t/oa see the man is mud. Have I need of mad- men, and so on. The Septuagint, which I follow step by step, and the authors of which understood Hebrew better than we, translates it, x,:u »i.t; ;-.i « ! -l'^i-iror and so on: Why have yoir brought this man;* Do you not see that lie is attacked irith an epilepsy? Have I need of epileptics, that you have brought him to fall into convulsions in my ])resence? This single testimony of the Septuagint ought to determme this question. 2. My second class of arguments is taken from the scope of the place, and 1 think, even supposing the original terms were as favourable to the idea of folly or madness as they are to that of an epilepsy, yet we should be more inclined to the latter sense than to the former. First, if there be some examples of persons frightened into lolly or madness, there are more of persons terrified into an epilepsy. Among the various causes of this sickness, the author of a book on the subject, supposed to be Hippocrates,* has given sudden fright as one not say to bo applauded. William the Xth Duke of Aquitain, and Count of Thoulouse, declared himself atrainst Innocent the lid in favour of I'etcr de Leon, an antipope who had taken the name of Anacletus the lid. The Duke had driven the Bishops of Poictiers, and of Limoges, from their sees. St. Barnard wafl sent into Guienne to engage him to reconcile himself to the holy see, and to re-establish the two bishops, but he could not prevail with him to be reconciled to the bishop of Poictiers. While they were talking at the church gate, St. Barnard went up to the altar and said mass. Having consecrated the host, and pronounced the benediction on the people, he took the body of the Lord in a patine, and going out with a countenance on fire, and with eye» in a flame, he addressed with a threatening air these terri- ble words to the Duke: " We have entreated you, but you have despised us. In a former interview, a great number of the servants of God besought you, and you treated tliem with contempt. Behold, now the Son of the Virgin comes to you, the head and lord of the church you persecute. Behold your judge, at whose name every name in heaven, earth, and hell, bow. Behold the avenger of your crimes, into whose hand, sooner or later, your stubborn soul shall fall. Have you the hardiness to de- sjiise him? And will you contemn the master as you have done the servants?" The specta- tors were all dissolved in tears, and the count himself, unable to bear the sight of the abbott, who addressed him with so much vehemence, and who held up to him all the while the body of the Lord, fell all shaking and trembling, to the earth. Being raised up by his soldiers, he fell back again, and lay on his face, saying no- thing and looking at nobody, but uttering deep groans, and letting his spittle fall down on his beard, and discovering all the signs of a person convulsed in an epilepsy. St. Barnard ap- proached, pushed him with his foot, commanded him to rise, and to stand up and hear the de- cree of God. " The bishop of Poictiers, whom you have driven from his church, is here; go and reconcile yoqrself to him; and by giving him a holy kiss of peace become friendly, and reconduct him yourself to his see. Satisfy the God you have offended, render him the glory due to his name, and recall all your divided subjects into the unity of faith and love. Sub- mit yourself to pope Innocent; and as all the church obeys him, resign yourself to this eminent pontiff chosen by God himself At these words the count ran to the bishop, gave him the kiss of peace, and re-established him in his see." tl. 1 return, sir, from this digression, which is not quite foreign to my subject, to observe, in the second place, that the sacred historian It would be needless lo multiply proofs when I attributes to David the three characteristical a sorrowful experience daily gives us so many! But I recolle<:t one instance of the zeal of St. Barnard, § which deserves to be relatud, I do * Muliilrrui ill li. 1. in criticis magnii. — Sec Bayle Achiili. Rrin. C. f L. Ch|iellu» criCicix sacra libro. iv. cap. 5. S. 35. i Hippocralei -i^i iifx. >-,(r-.u. T. ii. S. xi. p. .I.'B. ^ ViU Saiirli Bernardi. lib. ii. cip. 6. n. '^6. Koga- vimui tv, rt nprrtiiti iioi, aiipplicairit tibi in altrrn quaiii jam (rcum habiiimu», I'onvmlu «rryorum Uri unie Ir ailunala mulliliido, rl roiiUinp>i'iU. Ecrc ad tv marks of the falling sickness, falling, convul- sion, and frothing. Falling, for it is said he procrasit filius virginis, qui est caput ct Dominui rcclrtix, quam lu |H;r>cqurris. AdrsI Judrx tuus, in cujus nomine omne ernu curratur cxlestium, tcrrrslrium ct infernorum. AdrsI liiidci tuus, in cujus manua ilia anima lua devcoirl. Nun<^uid i-l ipsuni spernes.' Nuo- quid et ipsum ticut servos I'jus conlrmne».' Elcvatiis a uiililibus, rursnm in faciem ruil, nee auip- plam alieni loquens, aut intrndens in aliquem, taUv%t tn barhrnn ileJluentUms, cum profundis efllntii fcmitibui, cpilcplii-us »id(l>ilur. DAVID'S SUPPOSED MADNESS. 133 fell " into the hands" of the officers of the king: convulsion, for he hurt himself against the " posts of the gate:" and frothing, for he let fall his " spittle upon his beard." These are symptoms, which Isidore of Seville gives of an epilepsy," cujus tanta vis est, ut homo valcns concidat, spumetque. We may see the cause, or at least what physicians say of it, in the work of Hippocrates just now quoted, in the posthumous works of Mr. Manjol, and in all the treatises of pathological physic. The manner in which Plippocratcs explains the symptom of froth seems very natural, »cfi-u Ss IX T6U cTTo^MToç, &c. Thc frotli, tiiat comes out of the mouth, proceeds from tiic lungs, which, not receiving any fresh air, throw up little bubbles, like those of a dying man. 3. The horror of king Achisli concerning the condition of David, is a third reason, whicli confirms our opinion. " You see," said tliis prince to his officers, " this man is epileptic, shall such a man come into my house? And he drove him away," as it is said in the title of the thirty-fourth psalm. According to the common opinion, David feigned himself a na- turaJ, a fool, not a madman: he did actions of imbecility, and silliness, not of madness and fury. Now the ancients, far from having any avemon to this sort of fools, kept them in their palaces to make diversion. Tarquin the proud kept Lucius Junius Brutus in his family less as a relation of whom he meant to take care, than as a fool to please his children by absurd discourses and ridiculous actions. Ana- charsis, who lived about three hundred years after David, could not bear this custom of the Greeks. This wise Scythian said, " Man was a thing too serious to be destined to a usage so ridiculous."! Seneca, in one of his letters to Lucilius, speaks of a female fool, whom his wife had left him for a legacy, and wlio had suddenly lost her sight.J She did not know she was blind, and was always asking to be let out of a house where she could see nothing. Seneca saj's, that he had a great dislike to this kind of singularities; that if ever he should take it into his head to divert himself witii a fool, he need not go far in search of one, that he would make a fool of himself: and he agree- ably compares mankind witli their defects to Harpasta the fool of his wife. Every body knows, adds this philosopher, § ambition is not my vice, but we cannot live otherwise at Rome. I dislike luxury, but to live at a great expense is essential to living in this great city; and so on. Pliny the younger, writing to one of his friends, complained of having misspent his time at an elegant supper through the im- pertinence of these fools, who interrupted con- versation: he says, tiiat every one had his own whim; that he had no relish for such absurdi- ties; but tiiat some complaisance was necessary to the taste of our acquaintances. It was not the same with madmen, and particularly epileptics. Every body carefully * Isidor, Hispalieosis originuin lib. iii. cap. 7. De chroDJcis morbis, voce Epilepiia. p. 33. Col. A. lit. c. Hippocrat. ut supra. f Apud Eustathiuin in Homerum. ( Seneca. Epist. 30. ^ Hoc, quod in ilia videmus, omnibus nobis accidcre hqueat tibi. — Plin. Ep. lib. i\. 17, avoided them, and thought, to meet them was a bad omen. Dion Cassius says, the Roman sctiate always broke up, when any one of them happened to be taken with an epilepsy, for which reason it was called morbus comitialis,* witness these verses of Serenus Sammonicus: Est subiti apecies morbi, cui nomen ab illo eit, Quod fieri nobis auflragia justa rccuiat: Saupe eleniin membria acri Unguorc caducis, Consilium populi label horrenda diremiU Pliny the elder,! who relates the same thing, informs us of another custom, that was, to spit at the sight of an epileptic: Despuimus comi- tiales inorbos, hoc est, contagia regerimus; simili modo et fascinationes repercutimus, dexlrojque clauditatis accursum. There waa then as much superstition in this custom as aversion to the illness. Accordingly Theo- phrastes lia.s not forgotten, in his character of a suj)erstitious man, to represent him seized with horror, and spitting at meeting a mad- man, or an epileptic. | This was so common, and so much confined to an epilepsy, that it was frequently called the sickness to be spitted at: Thus Plautus, in the comedy of the Cap- tives, where Tyndarus, to prevent Hegio from staying with Aristophontes, accuses him of be- ing subject to the illness that is spit at.§ In this custom of spitting at the sight of an epileptic, I think 1 have formed a very proba- ble conjecture on another famous passage of Scripture; but, sir, I shall do myself the honour to treat of this in a future letter to you. At present, I avail myself of this custom to explain why Achish discovered so much indignation against his courtiers, and so much disdain for David, and why he drove him so quickly from his palace. 4. In fine, I think, it is easy to see in the thanksgiving psalms, which David composed after he had escaped this imminent danger, several indications of the nature of the illness that had seized him so suddenly. It is agreed that he composed the thirty-fourth and the fifty-sixth on this occasion, as the titles assure us, and to them I add tlie tliirty-first and the hundred and sixteenth, concerning which 1 beg leave to make two remarks. First, tiiat the hundred and sixteenth has so much connexion with the fifty-sixth, and the thirty-first with the hundred and sixteenth, that it is very evident these three psalms were composed at the same time, and in view of the same deliverance: witli this difference, how- ever, that in the fifty-sixth David confines himself to the malignity of his enemies, to the ])unishment they might expect, and to his own t'onfideiice in God, who engaged him to despise all their efforts; whereas in the thirty-first he expresses more clearly the terror which had been e.xcited in him by the conversation of .\chish and his officers, and the prayers which he had addressed to the Lord in his distress. In the hundred and sixteenth he attends more to tlie success of tliese prayers, and to the gra- titude he felt for deliverance from his great danger, and to the profound impression which * Dio Cassius. lib. 37. \ Plin. lib. xxviii. cap. 4. f Theophrastej Charact. 7ro(i SttiriSaificvix;, \ Plut. Capt. Act. iii. Seen. 4. rer. 15, &c. morbus qui iosputatur. 134 DAVID'S SUPPOSED MADNESS. his late Bituation had made on his mind. A bare parallel of these three hymns discovers a great resemblance both in sentiment and ex- pression. Compare Ps. Ivi. verses 5. 9. 1 1 — 14, with cxvi. 8. 12, 13. 1". 14. 18. 8. 9.— and cxvi. 1—3. 11. 16, with xxxi. 23, 24. 3. 10, 1 1. 23. n. The second observation I make on the thirty- first and hundred and sixteenth ])sahn is, that they perfectly agree witii the occasion of the two other psalms, and tiiat some passages seem to refer to the supposed epileptic fit. The cause is remarked Ps. xxxi. 10, 11. 14. The effects and consequences are spoken of in the same psalm, ver. 12, 13. The condition to which the illness had reduced David is de- scribed Ps. cxvi. 11.— Ps. xxxi. 23, (22 in the English version,) " I said in my haste, 1 am cut off from before thine eyes. All men are liars." However the Hebrew words rendered in my hastt be translated, either with the Septuagint in my ecstacy, or with Symmachus in my swoon or fainting fit, or with the old Italian version, in my ^eat dread, or with St. Jerome in my stupefaction,* either of the senses supposes and confirms my opinion. Suidas explains the word ecstacy, which the Septuagint uses here by ixMfitnf,;; X». :«).>.ci^Mri,. This last word is tlie same as that in the title of the thirty-fourth psalm, where David is said to have changed countenance, for so I think it should be trans- lated. In regard to the two psalms before mentioned, which were always understood to be con)|)osed on this occasion, they both of them furnish a great deal to establisii our opinion. Ill the fifty-sixth psalm, there is a verse, the seventli I mean, which modern interpreters seem not to have well understood. David tiiere, speaking of his enemies, says, according to o'lr version, " Shall lliey escape by ini<|uity? In thine anger cast down the people, O God." I think the words may be rendered, without violence to the original, O God, because of their iniquity spue them out, and cast down the people in thine anger;! iiecause the Hei)revv word pullitk, which in tiie conjugation leal signiies to escape, when it is in the conjugation piet signifies to rumit, to reject; so the celebrated Rabbi David Kimchi says. Indeed the Ciialdee paraphrastj uses it ia two places in this sense, Lev. xviii. 28. 25, "Tiie land itself voniiteth out her inhabitants — That the latul sjiue not you out al.so, as it spued out the nations before you." Jon. ii. 10, "Tiie fish vomited out Jonah." This word is used in the 'I'almud, which forl)ids a disciple ever to vomit in the presence of his master; for, according to this Rabinriical code of law, ho who s|)ils before his master, is worthy of death. According to Mr. d'Arviciu,^ the Arabians religiously ob- serve Ibis custom to this day. Among them no man ever spits before his superior, it would be considered as treating tlieni with disrespect and contempt. The Ciialdee paraphrast un- derstood this psalm in tiiis sense, and rendered the passage thus, because of the falsehood that * Ilicrom, in K.pitt. l.'l.'>. f Hiiminoiiil'a Annotations on V%. Ivi. 7. i Mag. Lri. Clialdaic. Thalm. et Kabbiuicum V.ux torf. in verb, pnlleth. ^ La Roque Voyage dam la Palestine, p. 140. is in their hands, spit them, or vomit them out. Now, sir, would it be improper to apply this verse to my explication, and to affirm, that David here manifestly alludes to two of the symptoms of an epilepsy, which he himself had lately experienced.' This holy man prays to God that his enemies might be treated in a manner which had some resemblance to the illness they had caused him; that as he had frothed and cast out his spittle, so God would spit or vomit them out of his mouth; and as he fell to the ground through their hands, so they might be degraded and cast out. The former imago is used by an inspired writer, Rev. iii. 16, "Because tliou art lukewarm, I will spue thee out of my mouth." Perhaps, sir, you will think another obser- vation which I am going to make, not suffi- ciently solid. David says, while he is cele- brating the deliverance God had granted nim, Ps. xxxiv. 20, that " the Lord keepeth all the bones of the righteous man, not one of them is broken." It is not worth while to refute the Jews on this article, for they quote these words in proof of a little bone, which they call luz, and which they place in the fonn of a small almond at the bottom of the back bone. They pretend that David had this bone in view; that nothing, neither fire, nor water, nor time, can destroy it, and that it is the germ of the resurrection of the body. Probably it was from this Jewish tradition that Peter Lom- bard,* the master of the sentences, derived his little piece of fiesh, which every man inherits from the flesh of Adam, and which renders us all corrupt, and on account of which we are called the children of Adam. Much less will I pretend to dispute the application which St. Jolin makes of tiiis oracle to our Lord Jesus Christ, of whom it was both predicted and prefigured, that not one of his bones should be broken, chap. 36; Exod. xii. 46; Numb. ix. 12. Nothing hinders our taking this verse in its literal sense. David here blesses his God for watching so marvellously to prevent him, that in spite of his violent ei>ileptic fit, and of the fail, that might have broke all his bones, especially as In; was so hurt by falling against the posts of the gate, as to receive marks or scars in his flesh, yet not one of his bones was iiroken. For the rest, if any one should think proper to take occasion, from this one convulsion fit, to dispute the inspiration of the excellent psalms of David, or only to diminish our esteem for the works or the jierson of this prince, the following considerations may set aside such a frivolous objection. 1. As soon as the malady is over, the mind recovers its freedom and firmness, and is pre- sently as well as before. 2. Even sii|)|)osing frequent attacks to en- feeble the mind, yet this would not effect David, for ho had only one fit. 3. Great men have been subject to this ill- nes,s, hut they have not been the less esteemed on that account; as for example a Julius Cesar,! who was held by his army in more than ' Pet. Lemb. lib. ii. Diitinct. .30. N. p. m. 218. Transmifit adam tnorfiriim quid de substantia tua in cor- pore siliorum, quando eo» procrearit, lie. t Plutarch in Ccure. T. i. (. 715. Suidu id voce. DAVID'S SUPPOSED MADNESS. 135 admiration; Plotinus too, that celebrated Pla- tonic philosopher, to wiiom, after his death, altars were erected in divers places. 4. Far from deriving from my explication a consequence so unreasonable, we ought, on the contrary, naturally to conclude, that there is a good and wise Providence, which knows how to deliver its children by means unthought of, and even when their ruin seems certain. A Christian, now afflicted with this sad disorder, may find in our sentiment a solid ground of consolation. The man after God's own iieart had an epileptic fit; but he was not the less esteemed of God, and so a Christian may rea- son, believing himself to be beloved of God, and an heir of his kingdom, though afflicted all his days with this malady, provided he imi- tate the zeal and piety of David. I submit, sir, all my conjectures to the penetration of your judgment, and 1 have the honour to be, with all imaginable respect, Sir, Your most humble And most obedient servant, DUMONT. Rotterdam, September 2, 1726. SERIIIOIVS REV. JAMES SAURIN, TRANSLATED BY THE REV. H. HUNTER, D. D. Vol. II.— 18 PREFACE, BY THE REV. HENRY HUNTER, D. D. The name of Saurin, as a preacher and a Scripture critic, is so well known, and so highly respected, as to render any panegyric or recommendation of mine altogether unne- cessary. His great work, entitled " Discourses Historical, Critical, Theological, and Moral, on the most memorable Events recorded in the Old and New Testaments," is in the hands of almost every Protestant Divine who understands the French language. Of this the first volume only has been given to the Eng- lish public, by a respectable layman, Jolin Chamberlayne, Esq., of the city of Westmin- ster, presently after the publication of the ori- ginal at the Hague, in 1723. Unhappily for the world, Mr. Saurin did not live to accom- plish that arduous undertaking: his valuable labours being interrupted by the stroke of death, before he had quite finished the sixth discourse of vol. iii., which contains the period of Solomon's piety and prosperity. The work was, however, very creditably continued and completed by Messrs. Roques and De Beauso- bre. A republication of Mr. Chamberlayne's volume, and a translation of the other five, would be an important, and no doubt an accep- table addition to English literature. The late Reverend Robert Robinson, of Cambridge, has given a very good translation of five volumes of the " Sermons" of " Sau- rin," selected from twelve, of which the origi- nal consists; to these he has prefixed " Me- moirs of the Reformation in France," and of " Saurin's Life." This work has been so well received all over Great Britain, that a third large impression of it is already nearly exhaust- ed: a striking proof, surely, of the author's ex- traordinary merit as a Christian orator, espe- cially if it be considered that this approbation is expressed in an age and a country daily en- riched with original displays of pulpit eloquence, and whose taste is rendered fastidious by pro- fusion and variety of excellence. But the public, it would appear, is still dis- posed to receive more of Mr. Saurin's Ser- mons, for I have been frequently and impor- tunately solicited to undertake the translation of what remains: a request with which, I ac- knowledge, I felt no great reluctance to com- ply; being thoroughly convinced that no com- positions of the kind are more calculated to be useful to mankind. By the reception given to tliis volume I shall be enabled to determine whether it is proper to desist, or to go on. The attentive reader will readily perceive that 1 have made the arrangement of the sub- jects part of my study. When 1 found any of tiie links of my chain anticipated by my re- spectable predecessor in the works of transla- tion, I refer to it, that those who choose to read in a series may bo saved the trouble of tracing it from volume to volume. As the originals are much longer than the generality of modern sermons, and as I sup- pose these may probably be adopted by fami- lies as part of their serious domestic reading, I have taken the liberty to divide most of them into two, and some into three parts, in the view of relieving the exertion of the person who reads, and the attention of the hearers: introducing nothing of rny own, except some- times a few lines of recapitulation, where it seemed necessary to connect the several mem- bers of the subject. To one advantage only over my predeces- sor, do I presume to lay claim, congeniality of sentiment with my author on certain points of doctrine, of riles and ceremo7iies, of church dis- cipline, and some others, in which Mr. Robin- son differs from him. There must be many passages, accordingly, which he disapproved while he translated; and some sermons he pro- bably omitted altogether, because they coin- cided not with his religious belief Under this disadvantage I did not labour in executing my task; as I agree in almost every point with my great original, and possibly translated with peculiar satisfaction what Mr. Robinson had reluctantly, or saw it his duty entirely to leave out. His readers and mine will, un- doubtedly, exercise the same right of private judgment, and, I trust, practise the same can- dour and forbearance which he and I thought ourselves obliged by precept and by example to recommend. H. H. Bethnal-Green Road, 24th June, 1196. 140 THE SONO OF SIMEON. [Ser. LXIX. SERMON LXIX. THE SONG OF SIMEON. Luke ii. 25 — 30. ^9nd beliold there was a man in Jerusalem, whose name was Simeon; and the same man was just and devout, waititig for the comolation of Is- rael: and the Holy Ghost was upon him. And it was revealed to him by the Holy Ghost, that he should not see death, before he had seen the Lord's Christ. Jlnd fu came by the Spirit into the temple: and when the parents brought in the chiid Jesus, to do for him after the custom of the laic; then he took him vp in his arms, and blessed God, and said, Lord, now lettest thou thy servant depart in peace, according to thy word: for miiu eyes have seen thy sal- vation. " Now let me die, since I have seen thy face, because thou art yet aHve," Gen. xlvi. 30. This was the e.Tclamation of an affection- ate father; might I not have said, of a weakly affectionate father, on a memorable occasion in his life. If such an emotion savour not of heroism, it is at least an effusion of nature. Joseph had been the centre of a fond parent's tenderest affections. Jacob had for more than twenty years been impressed with the belief that this dearly beloved son was devoured by an evil beast. He displayed every token of affliction that could be expressed by the pater- nal heart, on tlie loss of a child, a darling child, thus cruelly torn from him. Afterso many years of mourning, he is informed that his son is yet alive, that he is exalted to the most eminent state of power and splendour which the king of Egypt could bestow; that he had sent to bring his father down to him. Every instant now appears an age to the good old man, till the period of their reunion arrives. Every thing that retards the accomplishment of his wishes seems to defeat it. He trembles to think on the length of the way, on the dan- gers of such a journey, on his own debilitated frame. He departs at length, he reaches the desired haven: he beholds with his eyes tiie endeared object of so many earnest prayers. He feels himself in the embrace of his Joseph, he feels his visage bedewed with the tears of filial love. Joy deprives him of the powers of ut- terance, and with difficulty the faultering tongue can pronounce the words which Moses, if I may bo allowed the expression, seems to have de- rived from the bowels of paternal tenderness: " Now let me die, since I have seen thy face, because thou art yet alive." A greater than Jacob, my brethren, or ra- ther a greater than Joseph, is here. Simeon had roc«ived from God the assurance of hav- ing his life prolonged till his eyes should see the promised Messiah. On the accomplish- ment of that promise depended the solution of these anxious inquiries, so interesting to the wretched posterity of Adam: — Is there any mitigation to be expected of that fatal denun- ciation, " in the day thou eatesl of the fruit of tho tree of good and evil, thou «halt surely die?" Gen. ii. 1". Did so manv oracles, which «nnounce a Redeemer, prcfc-d from God, or from men? Is it possible that the love of God should rise so high, as to immolate his own Son in the room of the guilty? In a word, is the expectation of Israel well founded, or is it chimerical' The promise is at last fulfilled: that divine infant at last appears, whom God had " prepared before the face of all people, a. light to lighten the gentiles, and the glory of Israel," Luke ii. 31, 32. Already has an an- gel of the Lord announced his advent to the shepherds: already has a multitude of the hea- venly host made the air resound with these triumphant strains, " glory to God in the high- est, and on earth peace, good will towards men," Luke ii. 14. Already have the sages of the east arrived to render him supreme homage, as to their sovereign. What remain- ed to Simeon, after having seen the Saviour of the world, but to take possession of the long expected salvation? He accordingly takes the child in his arms: his faith is now changed into vision, and his hope into enjoyment, and he in transport exclaims, " Lord, now lettest thou thy servant depart in peace, according to thy word, for mine eyes have seen thy sal- vation." This devout rapture is to be the subject of our present discourse, and its import we shall attempt to unfold, after having made a few re- flections of a different kind, tending to eluci- date the text. I. We are to make a few preliminary re- flections, for elucidating the text. And here it is natural, in the first place, to inquire, who this Simeon was, who acts such a distinguished part, at this period of the gospel history? But all that can be added to the narration of the evangelist is merely a tissue of conjectural traditions palpably false, or, at best, extremely uncertain. Cardinal Baronius,* on the au- thority of some ancient doctors of the church, insists that he must have been of the sacerdo- tal order. This they attempt to prove from the words of the passage under review, " He took the infant Jesus in his arms," as if to pre- sent him to the Lord; an idea not supported by any one of the circumstances recorded in the gospel. Certain modern doctorsf believe him to have been the son of the celebrated Hillel, who was chief of the sect of the Phari- sees. They even go so far as to assert, that he was the father of that Gamaliel at whose feet Paul was brought up. With respect to his condition, a variety of fables are retailed de- scriptive of his person; such as that he was blind4 and recovered his sight on receiving our S.iviour into his arms: and that other, of his being one of the interpreters of the Sep- tuagint version;^ that having found many pas- sages which predicted that the Messiah was to be born of a Virgin, he refused to translate them; nay, that he substituted the term TVoman in place of Virgin, in translating the noted prediction of Isaiah vii. 14: that having closed, his tablets, on opening them to resume his labour, he found the word Virgin miraculously substituted in place of iVoman; that he besought 1. p. 5S. torn. 1. •e Hcbr. in Luc. ii. * Annal. Kcclri. Aotv. 161'i. A. C. t ConHiilt Lighlfool, toot. 2. Hoi 25. p. -liW. Rot. 1686. 1 Bnroniut ut lupra. I) Allatius dc Reel. Occid. Col. 1648. Niceph Kcrl. lib. i. cap. 'J. Paris, 1630. Ser. LXIX.] THE SONG OF SIMEON. 141 God to grant him an explanation of this won- derful phenomenon, and his prayer was an- swered: once more;* that havinrr seen in the temple various women presentintr their chil- dren, he had distinguisiicd tiie holy Virgin by certain rays of light which surrounded her person, on which he thus addressed the other mothers: " Wherefore do you present these children before the altar? Turn round, and behold this one, who is more ancient than Abraham." Fictions, of no higher authority than what is farther related of him, namely, that the Jew8,1 jealous of his talents and vir- tues, and, more especially, scandalized at the testimony which he had borne to .(esus Christ, had refused him the honours of sepulclire: that his remains, after having reposed a long time at Constantinople, J in a chapel dedicated by James, denominated the Less, were conveyed to Venice^ in the thirteenth century. Dropping, then, legends of such doubtful authority, let us satisfy ourselves with exhibit- ing Simeon under three authentic characters, which while they lead us to an acquaintance with the man himself, will give us an idea of the state of the Jewish nation, at the era of the Messiah's birth. The first respects the faith of Simeon; " he waited for the consola- tion of Israel." The second respects his piety and moral conduct; " he was just and devout." The third respects his gifts and privileges; " he was divinely inspired, and it was revealed to him by the Holy Ghost, that he should not see death, before he had seen the Lord's Christ." 1. "He waited for the consolation of Israel," that is, for the Messiah. This phraseology was adopted by the ancient Jews, and is still in use among the modern. " The years of the con- solation, "|| is a usual e.xpression employed by them to denote the years of the Messiah. One of their most solemn oaths is that which appeals to the consolation: and (ftie of their most common formularies is to this effect; " So may I see the consolation, as I have done such or such a thing; so may I see the consolation, as my tes- timony is consistent with truth." The pro- | phets themselves employ the same style: "Com- fort ye, comfort ye my people, saith your God: speak ye comfortably to Jerusalem," Isa. xl. 1. " The spirit of the Lord God is upon me; be- cause the Lord hath anointed me to preach good tidings unto the meek .... to proclaim the acceptable year of the Lord; and to comfort all that mourn," Isa. Ixi. 1, 2. " Sing, O heavens; and be joyful, O earth; and break forth into singing, O mountains; for the Lord hath comforted his people," Isa. xlix. 13. It were easy to prove, that these are so many oracular predictions, which the inspired authors of the New Testament, the only infallible inter- preters of the Old, understood as descriptive of the Messiah. And proofs would multiply upon us without end, were we more particularly to undertake to demonstrate, that the title of the consolation is peculiarly adapted to our Lord * Baronius ut supra, \ Krom a passage of Si. Epiplianius misunderstood. See Epiph. torn. 2. de Vit. Proph. p. 1.50. Paris, 1622. I Codin. Orig. Const, p. 56. Lut. 1655. 6 Tillemout, Memoir. EÀ:cles. torn. i. p. 448. Par. 16d3. II Lightroot, in supra. Jesus Christ: but however instructive such re- flections might be of themselves, they would carry us too far from the present object of pursuit. Wo could only wish, that the faith of Simeon might assist you in forming an idea of the state of the Jewish church prior to the coming of the Messiah. Believers, under that dispensa- tion, entertained the same expectation with yimeon: like him they waited for " the conso- lation of Israel." We by no means presume to affirm that their ideas on this subject were exempted from pre- judice. We well know that they assigned to most of the oracles, which announced a Re- deemer, a sense conformable to the colour of their passions. Isaiah, who represented him as "despised and rejected of men," Isa. liii. 3, had, undoubtedly, a more just conception of him than the sons of Zebedee adopted, Mark X. 37, when they requested of him the most distinguished honours of his kingdom. Daniel, who predicted that " Messiah should be cut ofl'," Dan. ix. 26, entered, undoubtedly, much more profoundly into the view of his coming into the world, than Peter did, who having heard him speak of the death which he was to suffer, " began to rebuke him, saying. Be it far from thee, Lord: this shall not be unto thee," Matt. xvi. 22; Job, who contemplated him by the eye of faith, " as standing at the latter day upon the earth," Job xix. 25, 26; and who hoped to behold him eye to eye, even after " worms should have destroyed his body," knew incomparably better the blessings which he was to purchase for mankind, than those grovelling spirits who expected from him tem- poral enjoyments merely. Even those of the Jews whose understanding was most clearly enlightened, had much less penetration into the mystery of the cross than the meanest of Christians, and according to the saying of Jesus Christ, " He that is least in the kingdom of heaven, is, in this respect, greater than John Baptist," Matt. .\i. 11, and then all the pro- phets; nevertheless they all lived in expectation of a deliverer: they all considered him as the centre of every divine grace: they all waited for him as "the consolation of Israel." This is the first character given us of Simeon. 2. He was just and (krout. The epithet jiut must not be taken in a literal and exact sense. Beware how you give a lie to revelation, to experience, to your osvn heart, whose concur- ring testimony evinces that " there is none righteous" upon the earth, " no not one;" imagine not that Simeon by his virtues merited the privilege of "seeing the Lord's Christ," and of partaking of the fruits of his incarnation. The righteousness of Simeon consisted in the efforts which he made to work righteousness: his perfection, in the desire with which he was animated to go on to perfection, and in the regret which he felt that his attainments were so inconsiderable. The sacrifices which he made to God, derived all their value from the mercy of that God who was the object of his fear. Let this great principle of Christian theology be deeply impressed on your minds: lose sight of it, no not for a moment, and be con- stantly vigilant lest the impure doctrine of the merit of good works find admission among you. 142 THE SONG OF SIMEON. [Ser. LXIX. But wheTePore suggest cautions to this effect' Wherefore should these walls so frequently resound witli truths of this class? My brethren, you have so effectually excluded, by your cold- ness in the performance of good works, the doctrine of their'merit, that there is little room to entertain tlie apprehension of its ever finding an establishment ia the midst of us. .\nd it is an undeniable fact, that this error has gained no partisans in our churches; at least, if there be any, they have kept themselves invisible. We have seen many persons who, under the power of illusion, imagined they had fulfilled the conditions upon wliich the promises of sal- vation are founded; but never did we find one who advanced a plea of merit. But what we have seen, and what we have cause every day to deplore, and what is involving multitudes in utter ruin, is our frequently deceiving ourselves with the belief, that because righteoiisness and the fear of God are not meritorious, they are therefore unnecessary. What we have seen, and what we have cause every day to deplore, is the unhappy persuasion prevailing with many who bear the Christian name, that be- cause the advent of the Messiah is a dispensa- tion of grace, it gives encouragement to licen- tiousness and corruption. Let us not employ such ingenious pains to deceive ourselves. — Multiply without end, ye " disputera of this world," your questions and controversies, it will never be in your power to prevent my clearly discerning, in the doctrine of the gospel, this twofold truth: on the one hand, that the best preparation for receiving the reign of grace, is that which Simeon made; " he was just and devout, and ho waited for the conso- lation of Israel." On the other hand, that the most insurmountable obstacle which can be opposed to this reign, is impiety and injustice. " Prepare ye the way of the Lord, make straight in the desert a highway for our God. Every valley shall be exalted, and every moun- tain and hill shall be made low: and the crook- ed shall be made straight, and the rough places plain, and all flesh shall see the salvation of God," Isa. xl. 3; Matt. iii. 3;Lukeiii.G. This was the voice of the forerunner of Jesus Christ, and wherein did he make this preparation to consist? The preparation of him who had " two coals" was to " impart to him who had none," Luke iii. 11. The preparation of him who had meat was to act in like manner. That of the publicans was to " exact no more than that which was appointed them," ver 13. That of the soldier was to " do violence to no man, to accuse no one falsely, and to be content with his wages," ver. 14. The preparation of all was to " bring forth fruits worthy of repent- ance," ver. 8. Witiiout these, the reign of grace was the reign of wrath: without these, " the axo was already laid unto the root of the tree; and every tree wliicli brought not forth good fruit was to i)e hewn down, and cast into the fire," ver. 9; and this Messiah, this Re- deemer of mankind, was to come with " his fan in his hand, thoroughly to purge his floor; to gather the wheat into his garner; but to burn the chaff with fire unquenchable," ver. 17. Ah! if at this period of the gospel dispensa- tion, when we are exercising, in some manner, tho functions of John Baptist, if in tliese d?iys wherein we come to announce the revival of the reign of Jesus Christ in the midst of us, by tho celebration of his incarnation and birth; by the connnemoration which we are to make next Lord's day in the sacrament of the supper: if at this season, when we are crying aloud to you in the words of St. John, " prepare ye the way of the Lord:" should you with the multi- tudes who attended his ministry, inquire, say- ing, " and what shall we do?" We would reply, wait for " the consolation of Israel," as Simeon waited for it: " bring forth fruits worthy of repentance." " Prepare the way of the Lord," ye great ones of the earth; lead the way in a procession of penitents, as the king of Nineveh did, when the preaching of Jonah thundered impending destruction in his ears, Jon. iii. 4. 9. " Hum- ble yourselves under the mighty hand of God," 1 Pet. v. 6, "by whom kings reign, and princes decree justice," Prov. viii. 15. Employ the power with which Providence has intrusted you, not in a vain display of furniture more magnificent, or of equipages more splendid; not by assuming a deportment more lofty and intimidating; but in curbing bold and insolent vice; but in maintaining the cause of truth and justice; but in wiping away the tears of the widow and the orphan; but in rewarding ser- vices rendered to the state; but in procuring respect to the solemn institutions of religion; but in .preventing the circulation of indecent and corruptive publications; and, as far as in you lies, in levelling to the ground that mon- ster infidelity, which is rearing its daring fore- head in the midst of you. " Prepare the way of the Lord," ye pastors of the flock. Distinguish yourselves from pri- vate individuals, not only by the habit which you wear, and by the functions which you dis- charge; but by your zeal for the church of Christ; by your unshaken firmness and forti- tude in opposing those who impudently trans- gress; but by preserving a scrupulous distance from every thing characteristic rather of the slaves of this world, than of the ministers of the living God. " Prepare ye the way of the Lord," profess- ing Christians. Celebrate your solemn feasts, not only by frequenting our religious assem- blies, but by a holy abstinence from those se- cret abominations, and those public scandalous practices which have so long inflamed the wrath of heaven against us; which even now are scattering the seeds of discord through these provinces; which are draining the re- sources of our country, which are tarnishing her glory, which present to our eyes, in a low- ering futurity, vicissitudes still more calami- tous and more deeply ensanguined than those which have already cost us so many tears, and so much blood. This, this is the only effectual method of waiting for deliverance and redemption. Far removed from us be those frivolous terrors, which would suggest, that to be subjected to the yoke of Jesus Christ, is to derogate from his merits! And let us not deceive ourselves; there is not a single particular in the system of the gospel; there is not a single article of Chris- tian theology, hut what preaches terror, if we are destitute of that righteousness, and of that Sir. LXIX.] THE SONG OF SIMEON. 143 fear of God with which Simeon " waited for the consolation of Israel." In order to our having an interest in the pardoning mercy which the Messiah has purchased for us, we must " fear God," as Simeon did; we must be just BM he was; we must hold sin in detestation; we must be " of a poor and of a contrite spirit," Isa. Ixvi. 2, because of it; we must "cease to do evil, and learn to do well," Isa. i. 16, IT. In order to our having an interest in sanctify- ing grace and in the spirit of regeneration, communicated to us by the Messiah, we must " fear God" as did Simeon; we must bo just like him, we must love wisdom; wo must " ask it of God .... nothing wavering," James i. 6, 6; or, as the passage of St. James to which I refer might be rendered, not halting, or hesi- tating between the choice of wisdom and folly; we must not be like " a wave of the sea," which seems to be making a movement to- wards the shore, but anon returns with impetu- osity into the gulf from which it issued. Farther, in order to our having a knowledge of the doctrines which were taught by the Messiah, we must " fear God" as did Simeon, we must be just like him; for "the secret of the Lord is with them that fear him; and he will show them his covenant," Ps. xxv. 14, and " if any man will do his will, he shall know of the doctrine whether it be of God, or whether I speak of myself," John vii. 17. In order to our having an interest in the promises of the glory to be revealed, which are made to us by the Messiah, we must " fear God" as did Simeon, we must be just like him, for "with- out holiness no man shall see the Lord," Heb. xii. 14, and "having these promises, let us cleanse ourselves from all filthiness of the flesh and of the spirit," 2 Cot. vii. 1. If we would attain the assurance of salvation, we must *' fear God," as did Simeon, we must be just like him: " Let him that thinketh he standeth, take heed lest he fall," 1 Cor. x. 12, and "if God spared not the natural branches, take heed lest he also spare not thee," Rom. xi. 21. 3. Finally, we are informed by the evange- list, that " the Holy Ghost was upon Simeon; and it was revealed to him by the Holy Ghost, that he should not see death, before he had seen the Lord's Christ." On this particular, I shall confine myself to a single reflection. It supplies us with an ex- plication of several ancient oracles, and parti- cularly that of the prophet: " And it shall come to pass afterward, that I will pour out my Spirit upon all flesh, and your sons and your daughters shall prophecy, your old men shall drcajn dreams, your young men shall see visions," Joel ii. 23. The Jews themselves acknowledge,* that the spirit of propliecy was one of the prerogatives, which had been denied to the second temple. This gift seems to have expired with Malachi. For an uninterrupted series of more than four hundred years no pro- phet had arisen. This high privilege was not to be restored to the church till the latter days should come; and conformably to the style of the Old Testament, the latter days denote the dispensation of the Messiah. Here then, we * Talmad Hi«ros. Taanith, fol. ?i. 1. Babylon. Joma, fol. xxi. 2. have the commencement of the latter day». Here we behold the prophetic illumination re- appearing in all its lustre. Here the hallowed fire is rcKindling, and celestial revelations en- lighten a dark world. These exalted privilege* are communicated first to Zacharias, who bo- holds an angel of the Lord " standing on the right side of the altar of incense," Luke i. 11. They are next bestowed on the blessed Virgin, whom the angel thus addresses, "Hail thou that art highly favoured, the Lord is with thee: blessed art thou among women," ver. 28. They are extended even to the shepherd», to whom another angel announces the birth of the Saviour of the world, and who " suddenly hear a multitude of the heavenly host, praising God, and saying, Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace, good-will towards men," Luke ii. 13, 14. They are poured down upon Simeon; and we shall presently behold the whole Christian church inundated with an overflowing flood of divine irradiation. Let this suffice as to the character of Simeon. II. Wo are to attempt to unfold the import of the devout raptiire which he felt. And here let us give undivided attention to the ob- ject before us, and let every power of thought be applied to discover, and to display, the emotions by which this holy man of God wb» then animated. He takes Jesus Christ in his arms: he blesses God, and says, " Lord, now lettest thou thy servant depart in peace, ac- cording to thy word; for mine eyes have seen thy salvation." " Lettest thou thy servant de- part:" the Greek phrase literally rendered, is, thou unloosest, or settest free thy servant. The sense of the expression cannot, in my appre- hension, be disputed in this place. To un- loose, in the writings of certain profane au- thors, and the meaning is the same in our text, signifies that act of Deity which separates the soul from the body. Thou liberatest thy servant in peace, that is, thmi pemiittest thy servant to die in peace. This object which strikes the eye of Simeon, is to him a complete security against the terrors of death. Wherefore should he wish to live longer in this world? Could it be to behold some wonderful event, or to ac- quire some valuable possession? But his whole soul is rapt in admiration of the object with which his eyes are feasted; the delight he feels in contemplating the Redeemer, " the Lord's Christ," absorbs every faculty. Could the fear of the punishment of sin suggest a wish to live longer? He holds in his arms the victim which is going to be offered up to divine justice. Could he desire longer life from any doubt he entertained respecting the doctrine of a life to come? He is at the very source of life, and needs only to be released from a mortal body, to arrive at immortality. Three sources of meditation, well worthy, I am bold to say, of all the attention you are able to bestow. 1. The desire of beholding some wonderful and interesting event, is one of the most usual causes of attachment to life. There are cer- tain fixed points, in which all our hopes seem to be concentrated. Nothing is more common among men, even among those whose charac- ter as Christians is the least liable to suspicion, than to say, could I but live to see such and i such an event take place, I should die content' 144 THE SONG OF SLMEON. [Ser. LXIX. could I but live to see that adversary of the church confounded: could I but live to see that mystery of Providence unfolded: could I but live to see Zion arise out of her ruins, and the chains of her bondmen broken asunder: could I but live to see my son attain such and such a period. Such emotions are not in every case to be condemned as unlawful; but how much do they frequently savour of human infirmity! Let it be our study to die in peace with God, and we shall be disposed to die, whenever it shall please him, who has sent us into the world, to call us out of it again. Death draws aside the curtain, which con- ceals from our eyes what is most worthy of our regard, of our desire, of our admiration. If thou diest in a state of reconciliation with God, thine eyes shall behold events infinitely more interesting and important than all those which can suggest a wish to continue longer in this world. Thou shall behold something unspeaka- bly greater than the solution of some particular mystery of Providence: thou shalt discern a uni- nearer view of the person of whom bo lofty an idea is conveyed from preparations so magnifi- cent' All these preparations, however, are in many cases, not so much the badges of the real greatness of the personage whom they an- nounce, OB of his vanity. It has oftener than once been felt, that the object of the least im- portance in a splendid procession, was the very man who acted as the hero of it. But what could the Levitical dispensation fumish, to convey an idea of the Messiah, but what fell infinitely short of the Messiah himself? Simeon at length beholds this Messiah, 80 eagerly expected through so many ages. Si- meon, more highly favoured than Jacob, who, on his dying bed exclaimed, " I have waited for thy salvation, O Lord!" Gen. xlix. 8. Simeon exulting, says, " Lord, I have seen thy salva- tion:" more highly favoured than so many kings, and so many prophets, who desired to see the Redeemer, but did not see him, Luke xi. 24, more highly privileged than so many believers of former ages, who saw only the versallight, which shall dispel all thy doubts, re- promises of him "afar off, and embraced solve all thy difficulties, put to flight all thy dark- '' •« ^'^ • ■ .^ • .. ^ . ^ ness. Thou shalt behold something incompa- rably surpassing the confusion of those tyrants, whose prosperity astonishes and offends thee: thou shalt behold Jesus at the right hand of his Father, holding "a rod of iron," ready to " dash in pieces, like a potter's vessel," Ps. ii. 9, all those who dare qppose his empire. Thou shalt behold something incomparably more sublime than the dust of Zion reanimated: thou shalt behold the "new Jerusalem," of which " God and the Lamb," are the sun and temple; Rev. xxi. 2. 22, 23. Thou shalt be- hold something incomparably more interesting than the chains of the bondmen broken asun- der: thou shalt behold the souls of a thousand martyrs invested with white robes. Rev. vi. 11, because they fought under the banner of the cross: thou shalt hear them crying one to an- other; " Alleluia: for the Lord God omnipo- tent reigneth. Let us be glad and rejoice, and give honour to him; for the marriage of the Lamb is come, and his wife hath made herself ready," Rev. xix. 6, 7. Thou shalt behold something incomparably more interesting than the establishment of that son, the object of so many tender affections: thou shalt behold those multitudes of glorified saints who are eternally them," Heb. xi. 13, he receives the effiect of those promises; he contemplates, not afar off, but nigh, "the star which was to come out of Jacob," Numb. xxiv. 17, he beholds the ac- complishment of the prophecies, " Christ the end of the law for righteousness to every one that believeth," Rom. x. 4, the ark, the She- chinah, the habitation of the Deity in his tem- ple, he in whom " all the fulness of the God- head dwelleth bodily," Col. ii. 9, he sees the manna, and more than the manna, for " your fathers did eat manna in the wilderness and are dead," John vi. 58, but, " whoso eateth my flesh and drinketh my blood, hath eternal life," ver. 54. " Father of day," exclaimed a Pagan prince, " thou radiant Sun, I thank thee that before I leave the world, I have had the felicity of seeing Cornelius Scipio in my kingdom and palace; now I have lived as long as I can de- sire." It is the very emotion with which Si- meon is animated: he has lived long enough, because he has seen " the salvation of God." Let the Roman republic henceforth extend her empire, or let its limits be contracted; let the great questions revolving in the recesses of cabinets be determined this way or that; let the globe subsist a few ages longer, or crumble im- mediately into dust; Simeon has no desire to to partake with thee in the felicity of the over see any thing farther: " Lord, now lettest thou blessed God: thine eyes shall behold that ado rablo face, the looks of which absorb, if I may use the expression, all those of the creature. Let it be admitted, at the same time, that if ever any one could be justified in expressing a wish to have the hour of death deferred, it was in the case of those believers, who lived at the period when the Messiah was expected. This was the case with Simeon. Brought up under an economy in which every thing was mysterious and emblematical, he is justifiable, should he have expressed a wish to see the elu- cidation of all these Facred enigmas. When a prince is expected to visit one of our cities; when we behold the sumptuous equipages by which he is preceded, the train of messengers who announce his approach; palaces decorated, and triumphal arche:; reared, for his reception: does not all this cxcila a desire of obtaining a thy servant depart in peace, according to thy word, for mine eyes have seen thy salvation." Secondly, Simeon remains no longer at- tached to life from terror of the punishment of sin after death. " The sting of death is sin;" that sting so painfully acute to all mankind, is peculiarly so to the aged. An old man has rendered himself responsible for all the stations which he occupied, for all the relations which he formed m social life, and in the church. And these in general, become so many sources of remorse. Generally speaking, it is not se- paration from the world merely which renders death an object of horror; it is tlie idea of the account which must be given in, when we leave it. If nothing else were at stake, but merely to prepare for removing out of the world, a small degree of reflection, a little philosophy, a little fortitude, might answer the purpose. Ser. LXIX.] THE SONG or SIMEON. 145 What is the amount of human life, especially to a man arrived at a certain period of existence? What delight can an old man find in society, after his memory is decayed, after his senses are blunted, after the fire of imagination is e.\- tinguislied, when he is from day to day losing one faculty after another, when he is reduced BO low as to be the object of forbearance at most, if not that of universal disgust and dere- liction? J3ut the idea of fourscore years passed in hostility against God, but the idea of a thou- sand crimes starting into light, and calling for veno'cance; by their number and their atrocity exciting " a fearful looking for of judgment" — this, this presents a just ground of terror and astonishment. liut all such terrors disappear in the eyes of Simeon; he knows the end for which this child was born, whom ho now holds in his arms: he directs his eyes beyond the cradle, to his cross; by means of the prophetic illumination which was upon him, he perceives this Christ of God "making his soul an oficring for sin," Isa. liii. 10. He expects not, as did his worldly-minded* countrymen, a temporal kingdom; he forms lar juster ideas of the glory of the Messiah; he con- templates him "spoiling principalities and pow- ers, making a show of them openly, nailing them to his cross," Col. ii. 15. Let us not be accused of having derived these ideas from the schools, and from our courses of theological study: no, we deduce this all important truth immediately from the substance of the gospel. Ponder seriously, I beseech you, what Simeon himself says to Mary, as he showed to her the infant Jesus: " Beliold this child is set for the falling and rising again of many in Israel; and for a sign which shall be spoken against: yea, a sword shall pierce through thy own soul also," Luke ii. 34, 35. What could be meant by that stcord with which the mother of our Lord was to have her " soul pierced through?" That anguish, un- doubtedly, which she should undergo, on seeing her Son nailed to a cross. What an object for a mother's eye! Who among you , my brethren, has concentrated every anxious care, every ten- der affection on one darling object, say a be- loved child, whom he fondly looks to, as his consolation in adversity, as the glory of his family, as the support of his feeble old age? Let him be supposed to feel what no power of language is able to express: let him put himself in the place of Mary, let that beloved child be supposed in the place of Jesus Christ: faint image still of the conllict which nature is pre- paring for that tender mother: feeble com- mentary on the words of Simeon to Mary, "yea, a sword shall pierce through thy own soul also." Mary must lose that son whose birth was announced to her by an angel from heaven; that Son on whose advent the celestial hosts descended to congratulate the listening earth; that Son whom so many perfections, whom such ardour of charity, whom benefits so innumerable should have for ever endeared to mankind: already she represents to herself that frightful solitude, that state of universal deser- tion in which the soul finds itself, when, having been bereaved of all that it held dear, it feels as if the whole world were dead, as if nothing else remained in the vast universe, as if every Vol. II.— 19 thing that communicated motion and life had been annihilated. And through what a path was she to behold this Son departing out of the world? By a spe- cies of martyrdom, the bare idea of which scares the imagination. She beholds those bountiful liands which had so frequently fed the hungry, which had |)erformed so many miracles of mer- cy, pierced through with nails: slie beholds that royal head, which would have shed lustre on the diadem of the universe, crowned with thorns, and that arm, destined to wield the si'cptre of tlie world, bearing a reed, the emblem of n)ock-majesty; she beholds that temple in which " dwellcth all the fulness of the godhead bodily," Col. ii. 0, with all his wisdom, with all his illumination, with all his justice, with all his mercy, willi all the perfections which enter into tiie Jiolion of the supreme Being; she be- holds it assaulted with a profane hatchet, and an impious spear: she hears the voices of the children of Edom crying aloud, concerning this august habitation of the Most High, " Kase it, rase it, even to the foundation thereof" But if even then, while she beholds Jesus expiring, she could have been permitted to ap- proach liim, to comfort him, to collect the last sigh of that departing spirit! Could she but have embraced that dearly beloved Son, to bathe him with her tears, and bid .him a last farewell! Could she but for a few moments have stopped that precious fluid draining off in copious streams, and consuming the sad remains of exhausted nature! Could sJie but have been permitted to support that sacred, sinking head, and to pour balm into his wounds! But she must submit to the hand of violence: she too is borne down by " the power of darkness," Luke xxii. 53. She has nothing to present to the expiring sufferer but unavailing solicitude, and fruitless tears: " a sword shall pierce through thy own soul also:" Simeon understood, then, the mystery of the cross: he looked to the effi- cacy of that blood which was to be shed by the Redeemer whom he now held in his arms, and under that holy impression exclaims, "Lord, now lettest thou thy servant depart in peace, according to tliy word, for mine eyes have seen thy salvation." 3. Finally, Simeon no longer feels an attach- ment to this world, from any doubt or suspicion he entertained respecting the doctrine of a life to come. He is now at the very fountain of life, and all that now remains is to be set free from a mortal body, in order to altaiu immor- tality. We may deduce, from the preparations of grace, a conclusion nearly similar to that which we draw from the preparations of nature, in order to establish the doctrine of a future state of eternal felicity. How magnificent are the preparations which nature makes! What glory do they promise after death! The author of our being has endowed the human soul with an unbounded capacity of advancing from knowledge to knowledge, from sensation to sensation. I make free here to borrow the thought of an illustrious modern author:* " A perpetual circulation," says he, " of the same objects, were they subject to no other incon- venience, would bo sufficient to give us a dis- * Mentor, torn, iii. Disc. cxli. p. 340. 146 THE SONG OF SLMEON. [Ser. LXn, gust of the world. Wlion a man lias behold frcfjucntly reiterated vicis»|)caranccs of nature, what is there liere below cai>able of satisfying tlie mind? 1 am well aware," adds he, "how brilliant, how mairnificent this spec- tacle is, I know how possible it is to indulge in it with a steady and increasing delight; but I likewise know that, at length, the continual recurrence of the same images cloys the ima- gination, which is eagerly looking forward to the removal of tlie curtain, that it may con- template new scenes, of which it can catch only a confused glimpse in the dark perspective of futurity. Death, in this point of view, is a transition merely from one scene of enjoyment to another. If present object-s fatigue and ex- cite disgust, it is only in order to prepare the soul for enjoying, more exquisitely, pleasures of a différent nature, ever new, and ever satis- fying." The conclusion deducible from the prepara- tions of nature, may likewise be derived from the preparations of grace. Let us not lose sight of our leading object. How magnificent had the preparations of grace appeared in the eyes of Simeon! This we have already hinted: the whole of the Levitical dispensation consisted of preparations for tlie appearance of the Messiah; if we form a judgment of the blessings which he was to bestow upon the human race, from the representations "given us of him, it is im- possiitlc to refrain frotn drawing this conclusion. That the Messiah was to give unbounded scope to the desires of the heart of man, was to com- municate to him that unspeakable felicity, for the enjoyment of which nature had already prepared him, but which nature had not the power to bestow. There, 1 mean in the Le- vitical dispensation, you found the shadows which retraced the Messiah; there you found types which represented him; there oracles which predicted him; there an exhibition in which were displayed his riciics, his pomp, his magnificence; there you heard the pro[)hets crying aloud: " Drop down, ye heavens, from above, and let the skies pour down righteous- ness: let the earth open, and let them bring forth salvation; and let righteousness spring up together," Isa. xlv. 8. "For unto us a Child is born, unto us a Son is given, and the govern- ment shall be upon his shoulder; and his name shall bo called. Wonderful, Counsellor, The mighty God, The everlasting Father, The I'rince of Peace," Isa. ix. C. " Lill up your eyes to the heavens, and look ujion the earth beneath: for the heavens shall vanish away like smoke, and the earth shall wax old like a gar- ment, and they that dwell therein shall die in like manner; l)iit my salvation shall be for ever, and my righteousness shall not bo abolished," Isa. li. G. Now, what state of felicity could possibly correspond to conceptions raised so higii by pre- parations of such mighty inii)orL' What! amount to nr> more than that which the Mcs- siaii beslnwH in this world? Wiial! no more than to fre(|uent these lemjiles? What! no more than to raise th<;se sacred sonsus Christ. This fatal stroke was to become to them an in- cxliaustiiile fountain of tears. This death ap- peared to them the utter annihilation of all things: it seemed as if the whole universe were dying together with him. " Now I go my way to hitn that sent me; and none of you asketli me, Whither goest thou? but because I have said these things unto you, sorrow liath fdled your hearts," chaj). xTi. 6, 6. " A little while and ye shall not see nic," ver. 16. "Verily, verily, I sjiy unto you, Ye shall weep and la- ment, l)ut the world sliall rejoice; and yo shall be sorrowful," ver. -0. There can be no room to doubt that Jesus ('hrist, who himself loves with so nnich delicacy of afliection, and who was animated with such participated in their sorrow. As the loss, which they were about to sustain, was the deepest wound in their soul, he \>outs into it the most poweil"ul balm of divine consolation. And here, my dciirly beloved brethren, here it is that I stand in need of, not all the attention of your intellectual powers, but of all the sensibility of which your heart is susceptible, that while you partake in th« sorrow of the apostles, you may likewise partake with them in the consolation which their Lord and ours was pleased to ad- minister. I shall sometimes turn aside from those holy men, my dear hearers, to address myself to you, and to supply you witl» abundant consolation, under the most oppressive ills which you may be called to endure on the earth; I mean tmder the loss of those who were most dear to you in life. 1 could wish to convince you, that the Christian religion is " profitable for all things:" that it will serve us as a bulwark and a refuge in our greatest sorrows, if we have but the wis- dom to resort to it. Only take care to apply, every one to his own particular situation, the truth which I am going to propose to you. Derive your consolations from the same sources which Jesus Christ opened to his disci])les, and to a particij)ation of which we now, after his example, cordially invite you: prayer, the mis- sion of the Comforter, the place to which your Redeemer is gone, the foretastes of the glory which he is there j)re|>aring for you, his spi- ritual presence in the midst of you, and the cer- tainty and nearness of his return. 1. In all your distresses have recourse to prayer. " Verily, verily, I say unto you, What- soever ye shall ask the Father, in my name, he will give it you. Hitherto ye have asked no- thing in my name: ask and ye shall receive, tliat your joy may be full," chap. xvi. L'3, 24. Tiiis ouglit to be adopted as a new form of prayer in the Ciiristian world. Scarcely do we find any trace of it in the devotions of the faith- ful of ancient times. Tliey indeed sometimes introduce the names of Abraham, of Is;iac, and of Jacob; but nowhere, except in the prophecy of Daniel, do we find a prayer put up in the name of the Messiah. This at lea.sl is the sense which may be assigned to those words of that prophet: " Now, therefore, O our God, hear the prayer of thy servant, and his supplication, and cau.se thy face to shine upon thy sanctuary, that is desolate, for the Lord's sake," Dan. ix. n. Rut this unexampled form, or of wliich there is at most so few examples in the ancient church, was to be henceforward adopted by all Christians: it is the first source of consolation which Christ opened to his disciples, and it is likewise the first which we, after him, would propose to you. Perhaps there may be many among us to whom Jesus might still say, aa formerly to his disciples, " hitherto have ye asked nothing in my name." To i>ray, and to pray in the name of Christ, is the Christian's grand resource. Resort to it in all your tribu- lations. Have you reason to apprehend that some stroke from the hand of God is going to fall heavy upon you? Do you believe yourself on the eve of hearing some melancholy tidings? Are you called to undergo some pahiful and dangerous operation on your person? And, to a i>redilcctiou in behalf of his disciples, tenderly | say every tiling in one word, are you iJireatcned Ser. LXXI.] TO HIS DISCIPLES. 153 with the loss of tho most valuable, tho most generous, the most tender friend that Heaven could bestow? Have recourse to prayer: God still sutwiists when all things else have become dead to thee. God continues to hear thee, when death has reduced to a state of insensi- bility all that was dear to thee, llctiro to tiiy closet; prostrate thyself at tho footstool of tiie throne of the Father of mercies. Pour out your heart into his bosom: say to him, " O Lord, irty strenirth, teach my hands to war, and my fin- gers to fight," Ps. cxliv. 1. Lord, take pity on thy creature; Lord, proportion my trials to tho strength thou shalt be pleased to administer to sustain them; "O my God, hear the prayer of thy servant; cause thy face to shine upon me, for tho Lord's sake," Dan. ix. IK. This exer- cise, my friend, will render thee invulnerable: this exercise will conununicate strength on which thou mayest, with confidence, rely, far beyond what thou durst have expected: it will place thee under the shadow of tlio Almighty, and will establish tiiee " as Mount Zion, which cannot be removed, but abideth for ever," Ps. cxxv. 1. 2. In all your distresses call to remembrance tho promise of tho Comforter, which Jesus Christ gave to his disciples: " I will pray the Father, and he shall give you another Com- forter; that ho may abide with you for over," chap. xiv. 16. This promise contained some- thing peculiar, relatively to the apostles, and to the then state of the infant church. It de- noted the economy of miracles, which was not to commence till Jesus Christ had reascended into heaven; and this is precisely the meaning of these words: " If I go not away, the Com- forter will not come unto you," chap. xvi. 1; it is likewise the meaning to be assigned to that passage, "Verily, verily, I say unto you, he that believeth on me, the works that I do shall he do also; and greater works tlian these shall he do; because 1 go unto my Father," chap. xiv. By the xcorks which the apostles were to do, we are to understand miracles. Those works were to bo p-eatcr than the works of Jesus Christ, with respect to their duration, and with respect to the number of witnesses in whose presence tliey were to be perfonned. This is, farther, tho idea which we are to afiix to those other words of our Saviour: " I have yet many things to say unto you, but you cannot bear them now. Howbeit, when he, the Spirit of Truth, is come, he will guide you into all truth," chap. .xvi. 12, 13. This refers to those o.xtraordiniiry gifts which the Holy Spirit was to pour down upon the apostles, the aid of inspiration, and the grace of infallibility, which were going to be communicated to them. It is likewise of these peculiar circumstances, that we must explain the eftccts which Jesus Christ ascribes to that Spirit whom ho promises to send to his disciples: "And when he the Comforter is come, he will reprove tho world of sin, because they believe not on me," chap, xvi. 8, 9; or, as it might have been translated, " he shall convince them of their criminality in refusing to believe on me:" in other words, that the mission of the Holy Spirit, which Jesus Christ had promised to his disciples, shoidd bo a new proof of tho divinity of liis owu mission, Vol. II.— 20 and should render those persons inexcusable who presumed to call it in question. Again, " he eliall reprove them of righteous- nesn, because I go to my Fatlier," ver. 10, that is, the miraculous gifts communicated to tho first heralds of the gospel should demonstrate, in a sensible manner, that Jesus Christ was in heaven, and should, from that very circum- stance, evince that he was perfectly righteous, although he had been condemned as an im- postor, seeing God had thus exalted him to the iiighest pinnacle of glory. Once more, " he shall reprove them of judg- ment, because the prince of this world is judg- ed," ver. II; in other words, that the triumphs which the Christian religion was about to ob- tain, tlirough the miraculous endowments of its ministers, were to be an awful forerunner of tho judgments which should overtake those who persisted in their unbelief. All this is peculiar to tho apostles; all this relates to the circum- stances of the primitive church. But this promise, my beloved brethren, has a reference to us also; and let it be our support in the midst of tribulation. Jesus Christ has pro- mised to us also, the Comforter, His Spirit is within us: " Greater is he that is in us, than he that is in the world," 1 John iv. 4. Let us yield ourselves to the guidance of this Spirit: he will not grant us to exercise authority over insensible beings, to control the powers of na- ture, and to rule the elements; but he will exalt us to a glorious superiority over flesh and blood; he will support us under every pressure of ca- lamity, and make us " more than conquerors" over every foe. 3. In all your distresses, call to remembrance the place to which Jesus Christ is gone. " If ye love me, ye would rejoice, because I said, I go unto the Father," chap. xiv. 28. It is the desire of Jesus Christ, that his disciples, on be- ing separated from him, should not confine their thoughts to their own interest merely. It is his wish, that the glory to which he was about to be exalted, should sweeten to them the bitter- ness of separation. Jesus Christ teaches us how to love. We frequently imagine, that we are inspired with love to a person excruciated with agonizing pains, whereas it is only self- love in disguise. When death has removed a person, who was justly dear to us, we dwell only on tho loss which we have sustained, but make no account of what our friend has gained. Whence proceed those tears which stream from your eyes? Whence these sighs and sobbings.' What dreadful event can thus have rent your heart, and excited those piercing shrieks which rend tho air? You have just beheld one who was the object of your tenderest affection depart out of this valley of tears; he has breathed out his soul into the hands of his Creator, and the blessed " angels, who rejoice over a sinner tliat repenteth," Luke xv. 10, experience new trans- ports of delight, when a believer who had been combating under tlie banner of the cross of Christ, comes to be admitted to a participation in his triumph: and can you consider this as a ground of affliction to you? Do you call this love? No, you know not how to love. Ah! if the departed could see what is passing below tho sun! if the supreme order of the Al- 154 CHRIST'S VALEDICTOKY ADDRESS [Ser. LXXI. miglity would permit those who are in heaven to maintain a communication with their sur- viving Irionds on the cartii! tlio person, whose loss you so bitterly deplore, would re])roach you with tliat excess of grief. He would address you in the words of the Saviour to his disciples: " If you loved me, ye would rejoice, because 1 said, I go unto the Father, for the Father is "■realer than I." Would you tear mo from the bosom of that Father? Would you recall me to this scene of tribulation and distress? Do you wish to see me ajjain struggling with the calamities which are inseparable from the life of wretched mortals? But there is something fartlier which chal- lenges our attention. All that our blessed Lord haii done for himself, has an intimate re- lation to us. All the glory which rests on our illustrious head extends its inlluence to each of its members. All the parts of the economy into which he has entered for our salvation, have a direct reference to our salvation. " He was delivered for our offences, and was raised again for our justification: He is even at the right hand of God, where he also maketh in- tercession for us," Rom. iv. 2b; viii. 34. In all your distresses, reflect not only on the place to which Christ is gone, but likewise on what he has thither gone to do, on your behalf " In my Father's house are many mansions: if it were not so I would have told you. I go to prepare a place for you," chap. xiv. 2. God no longer dwells in " light which no man can approach unto," 1 Tim. vi. 16. Direct your eyes to heaven. There are no longer " cheru- bim, and a flaming sword," Gen. iii. 24, to ob- struct your passage. " Whither I go ye know, and the way ye know:" .... "Jesus Ciirist is the way, and the truth, and the life," chap, xiv. 4. 6. Keep but yourselves closely united to the Redeemer in the hour of tribulation; place continually before your eyes this model of patient suffering, and he will himself con- duct you to those mansions of glory. 4. But an impenetrable veil conceals from our eyes tliose mansions in our Father's house: but there is an infinite distance between this little corner of the world, into which God has been j)leased to send us, as into a state of exile, and the place which Christ is preparing for us. God is still, with respect to us, " a strong God, who hideth himself," Isa. xiv. 16. Well, you must learn to look through that veil. You must learn to fill up the mighty void which is between heaven and earth, and to see this God who still conceals himself from our eyes. " Faith is the substance of things hoped for, and the evidence of things not seen," Heb. xi. 1. The Christian is instructed to unite the present to futurity. The Christian is instructed to anticipate periods the most re- mote. The Christian is a man already " quick- ened together with Christ; already glorified; already seated in heavenly places with Christ Jesus," Eph. ii. 6. How so? By the fore- tastes of those blessings which are the object of his expectations. This is the fourth source of the consolation which our Lord opens to his disciples, and which we, after him, open to you. " From henceforth ye know the father, and have seen him: he that hath seen me hath seen the Father: peace I leave with you; my i»eaco I give unto you: not as the world giveth, give I unto you," chap. xiv. T. 9. 27. My soul, if these are mere empty ideas with respect to thee, to thyself alone is the evil to be imputed. Thou hast corrupted thy taste: thou art plunging thyself in the world; dis- tracting thyself with its projects: eagerly hunt- ing after ita pleasures: thou art sullering thy- self to be fascinated with its charms: thou art devoting no portion of thy immortal capacity to the perception of that delight which the regenerated man enjovs, when he can say to himself, " I know the Father;" he is such as I know the Son to b<;, full of love, full of cha- rily, full of goodness and long-suffering. Jesus Clirist has " left me his peace;" I bear within me the testimony of " a conscience void of otlence:" 1 give .myself up to the joy of re- flecting that my salvation is secure." Thou rendercst thyself insensible to tliese sublime at- tractions: and then, when tlie world betrays thee; when thy "gods are taken away from thee," Judg. xviii. 24; when thou art bent on every side with a " great sight of affliction," tiiou findest thyself destitute of every resource. Reform thy depraved taste. Call down para- disc to reside within thee; anticipate that glo- rious period, when thou "shall see God as he is," 1 John iii. 2. Call to remembrance tliese words of thy Saviour: " From henceforth ye know the father, and have seen him: he that hath seen me hath seen the father: peace I leave with you; my peace I give unto you; not as the world giveth, give I unto you. Let not your heart be troubled, neither let it be afraid." 5. There is a fifth source of consolation which Jesus Clirist disclosed to his disciples, and which we, after him, disclose unto you: it is the assurance of his spiritual presence, and of the presence of his heavenly Father in the midst of you. " I will not leave you com- fortless," or, as it might have been rendered, I will not leave you orphans " If a man love me, ho will keep my words; and my father will love him, and we will come unto him, and make our abode with him:" chap. xiv. 18. 23. In all your distresses call to remem- brance that God is with you of a truth. With what fortitude did this reflection inspire those holy men whom the Scriptures have proposed to us as models! With what fortitude was Moses animated by it! " Wherein shall it be known here," said of old time that eminent servant of God, " that I and thy people have found grace in thy sight' Is it not in that thou goest with us? So shall we bo separated, I and thy people, from all the people that are upon the lace of the earth:" Ex. xxiii. 16. With what forti- tude did it animate the prophet, when he said, " When my father and my mother forsake me, tlien the Lord will take me up!" Ps. xxxvii. 10. With what fortitude did it inspire Jesus Christ himself, under that universal desertion which he experienced at the hour of deatlu' " Be- hold, the hour cometh, yea, is now come, that ye sliall be scattered every man to his own, and shall leave me alone: and yet I am not alone, because the Father is with me," chap, xvi. 32. Let us never lose sight of God in the day of Ser. LXXI.] TO HIS DISCIPLES. 156 adversity. Let us ever dwell with complacen- cy and joy on th:it expression of the Redeemer, " I will not leave you orphans." IjCt us aj)- ply to ourselves what God said of his ancient people: " Surcily tlwjy arc my j)eoplo, children that will not lie: so he was thoir Saviour. In all their aflliction he was afflicted, and the an- gel of his presence saved them," Isa. Ixiii. 8, 9; and let us exult in the fulness of a Christian confidence: " I have set the Lord always be- fore me: because he is at my right hand, I shall not be moved," Ps. .xvi. 8. 6. Finally, the last source of consolation which Jesus Christ disclosed to his discijdns, and which we, after his exami)le, would dis- close unto you, is the nearness of his return: " Ye now have sorrow: but I will see you again, and your heart shall rejoice, and your joy no man taketh from you," chap. xvi. 22. In all your distresses call to remembrance, that if Jesus Christ be not now sensibly present in the midst of you, the time is at hand when he will certainly be so. Call to remembrance what the angels said unto the apostles, when lost in astonishment at beholding a cloud re- ceive him out of their sight; " Ye men of Ga- lilee, why stand ye gazing up into heaven.' this same Jesus which is taken up from you into heaven, shall so come, in like manner as ye have seen him go into heaven," Acts i. 11. Call to remembrance that Jesus Christ will quickly reappear; " Yet a little while, and he who shall come, will come, and will not tarry," Heb. X. 37. No, this economy is not made for eternity. The world is waxing old; our years are hasten- ing to fill up their measure: we are advancing with rapid strides towards the tomb. The de- corations of the universe are speedily to be changed with respect to us. The universe it- self is about to undergo a real change. The state of the world, that now is, presents a state of violence, which cannot be of long duration. The last trumpet must ere long utter its voice: yet a little while, and those thunders must be heard which shall shake the pillars of the earth: " arise ye dead," and leave your tombs. Yet a little while, and we shall see again those whose death hath cost us so many tears, and we shall be reunited to them. Yet a little while, and " the sign of the Son of man shall appear in heaven," Matt. xxiv. 30. Yet a little while, and this Son of man shall himself ap- pear in his own, and in his " Father's glory, with all his holy angels." Ah! my brethren, till that blessed period ar- rive, we dare not promise you the possession of the fulness of joy. Till that bles-sed period, church of .Fesus Christ, " thou afflicted, tossed with tempest, and not comforted," Isa. liv. 2, a fearful night must involve thee in thick dark- ness. Till that blessed period, weep; weep, dejected Christian, disciple of the crucified Je- sus, weep and lament, and let " the world re- joice because ye are sorrowful," but ere long, " your sorrow shall be turned into joy I will see you again, and your heart shall re- joice, and your joy no man taketh from you." What powers of thought are equal to a hai)py termination of this subject of medita- tion! What pencil is capable of depicting the joys of the sons of God, in that eventful day, in which they shall behold again, in which they shall embrace, a father, a friend, a child, from whom death had once separated them! Let imagination soar to the highest object which the mind is capable of contemplating. Let nothing divide the love which we entirely owe to our adorable Redeemer, or damp the delight which we derive from the exalted hope of seeing him return to us in the clouds of hea- ven, with his "angels that excel in strength." Who is capable of representing the transport which the return of this Jesus shall kindle in the bosoms of the faithful! There he is, that Jesus in whom we believed: this is he, that Je- sus whom we loved, and to whom we were "faithful even unto death." Come, Redeemer of our souls, come and wipe away the tears which thy departure drew from our eyes: come, and compensate to us the heaviness of so long a separation from thee; come and receive the effusions of our gratitude and joy: suffer us, suffer us to yield to the transports of that love which absorbs every faculty, which constrains us, which exalts us to seraphic ardour. This is the last source of consolation which Jesus Christ disclosed to his disciples; this is that consolation which flows out in copious streams towards you. Christian, confounded, overwhelmed with wave upon wave, in all thy fears, thy sorrows, thy sufferings. O religion of the blessed .Jesus, how powerful are thy at- tractions! What charms dost thou possess for a wretched creature who feels the whole earth a cheerless void: let this religion, my beloved brethren, be the object of our most ardent af- fection. Let us go on unto perfection: let us transmit it to our children, as the goodliest por- tion, as the fairest inheritance: let us live with Jesus Christ: let us die with Jesus Christ. May God grant us this supreme felicity. To him be honour and glory for ever and ever. Amen. 156 CHRIST'S SACERDOTAL PRAYER. [Ser. Lxxn. SERMON LXXII. CHRIST'S SACERDOTAL PRAYER. PART I. JoHK xvii. These words spake Jemm, and lifted vp his eyes to heaven, and said, Father, the hour is come; glo- rify thy Son, that thy Son may also gli/rify thee: w3s thou hast given him pou'er over alljlesh, that he should give eternal life to as many as thou hast given him. -^nd this is life eternal, that they might know thee the only true God, and Jesus Christ icliom thou hast sent. I have glo- rified thee on tlie earth: Jhuvefmlihed the toork which thou gavest me to do. Jlnd now, Fa- ther, glorify thou me with thine own self, loith tiu glory which I had with thee before the world was. I have vianifested thy name unto the men which thou gavest me out of the world: thine they were, ami thou gavest them me; and they have kept thy icord. J^ow they have known, that all things, ichatsoever t/iou hast given me, are of thee: For I have given unto them the words which thou gavest me; and they have re- ceived them, and have known surely that I came out from thee, and they have believed tliat thou didst send me. I pray for them; I pray not for the world, but for them which thou hast given me; for they are thine. Jlnd all mine are thine and thine are mine; and I am glorified in them. Jlnd now I am no more in the world, hut these are in the world, and I come to thee. Holy Father, keep through thine men name those wliom thou hast given me, that they may be one, as we are. While I was with them in the wmrld, I kept them in thy name; those that thou gavest me I have kept, and none of them is lost, but the son of perdition; that the Scripture might be fulfilled. Jlnd now come I to thee; and tluse things I speak in the world, that they might have my joy fulfdled in themselves. I have git'en. them my word: and tlic world halh hated them, because they are not of the wm-ld, tven as I am not of the ivorld. I pray not that thou shouliht lake them out of the wm-ld, but that thou shouldst keep them from the evil. They are not of the irorld, even as I am not of the world. Sanctify them through thy truth: thy word is truth. .'Js thou hast sent me into the world, even so have I also sent them into the world. Jlnd for their sakes I sanctify myself, VuU tliey also might be sanctified through the truth. J^either pray I for these alone, but for them also which shall believe on me through their word; that they all may be one; as thou, Father, art in me, and I in thee, that they also may be one in us; that the world may believe that thou hast sent nu. Jlnd the glory which thou gavest me I have given them; that they vuty be oiu, even as we are one: I in them, and tlum in me, that they may he made perfect in one; and that the world may knoto that thou hast sent me, and hail Inved them, as thou hast loved me. Father, I will that they also whom thou hast given me be with me lehere I am; that they may behold my glory, which thou hast given nu: for thou lovedst me before the fouiuialion of the world, ri^lUeous Father, the world hath not knmrn tlue: hut I hare knmcn thee, and these have knoicn that thou hast sent me. ,1nd I have declared unto them thy name, and will declare it; that the love wherewith thou hast loved nu may be in them, and I in them. The words of dying persons usually sink deep into the listening ear, and touch the in- most soul. Ah! why are not the impressions which they produce as lasting as they are lively! The words of a dying pastor, more especially, seem calculated to produce an extraordinary ellect. At these last solemn moments of life, every motive of self-interest, or of vain-glory, by which he might have been actuated through the course of his ministry, vanishes away. Then it is that a faithful minister derives from the bosom of that religion which he lias taught to otlicrs, the means of fortifying himself against the idea of a futurity all gloom, if a man has mere human reason for his only guide, but all light and joy to him who follows the spirit of revelation. Then it is that he feels a more particular concern and tenderness for the church, and that now, himself lifted up, be would draw all men after him. Wlicn it is a pastor of the ordinary rate that expires, no other consequence can be deduced from his perseverance to the last but this, that he had preached what he believed to be the truth, not what was so in fact. And it is pos- sible he may deceive himself when he is dying, as he pretended not to infallibility while he lived. Rut the death of those extraordinary men, who have established, by their testimony, the facts on %vhich all religion rests, is the touchstone of tlie doctrines which they taught. As it was impossible they should have been de- ceived in the points whicii they attest, there can remain no other suspicion to atfect their testimony, but this, that it was their intention to impose upon others: and this suspicion falls to the ground, when we behold them, without deviation, persisting to the end in the faith which they professed, attesting it by new ap- peals to heaven, calling God to witness their sincerity, and their innocence. All these different considerations unite in the person of Jesus Christ: all these motives to at- tention, and in an order infmitely superior, fix our meditation on the words which have been read. Come and behold the sentiments of your Saviour unfolded, without disguise: come and behold tlie most lofty display of the human soul tliat ever was exhibited: come and behold whe- ther he, for one moment, doubted, whether he shrunk back: above all, come and behold the charity by which he was animated. Ciiarity formed the plan of the sacrifice which he should offer, and charity is hastening to accomplish it. Every thought of this dying Jesus is employ- ed on his disciples: is employed about you, my beloved brethren. " Thine they were, and thou gavest them me. I pray for tliem. I pray for those whom thou hast given me: keep them through thine own niune. Neither pray I for these alone, but for tiiem also which sliall believe on me througii their word." Such are the objects, my friends, which I would this day present to your contemplation. I put aside all tiie theological controversies which have token their rise from tlio poasagc Seh. LXXII.] CHRIST'S SACERDOTAL I'RAYRR. 157 under review. My only aim shall be to recom- mend to your most serious attention the ex- pressions, one after another, the heart-affect- ing', the penetrating expressions of the dyin|sj Saviour of mankind. So far from going abroad in quest of enemies to combat, I could even wish to confine my address, at the present hour, to such of my hearers as have a iieart susee|)tible of those tender sentiments with wliicii the religion of Jesus Christ inspires all who cordially embrace it. On hearts possessed of such sensibility I could wish to engrave the last expressions of the Redeemer's love: I could wish this sermon might accompany you up to your dying hour: 1 could wish that, in the moment of expiring agony, you might be enabled to oppose, to the fearful threats of the king of terrors, these fervent petitions of tiie Saviour of the world, which set open to you the gates of heaven, and which establish your eternal felicity on a foundation more umnove- able than those of heaven and earth: " Father I will that they also whom thou hast given me bo with me where 1 am; that they may beliold my glory which thou hast given me." Amen. We shall arrange our subject in the order of the three following ideas, and shall endeavour to point out to you, I. The relation in which Jesus Christ stands to God. II. The relation which subsists between the apostles and Jesus Christ. III. The relation subsisting between believ- ers and the apostles. We shall distinguish these three ideas only for the purpose of afterward establishing and sublimating the mystery of their union. For the perfect obedience which Jesus Christ yield- ed to the supreme will of his heavenly Father, has united him to God in a manner ineffable, so that he is one with God, not only as par- taking of the divine nature, but considered as a creature. Again, the glorious manner in which the apostles have executed the functions of their apostleship; having not only believed the doc- trines which their master taught them, but diffused them over the whole world; and, like him, sealed them with their own blood, has united them in the closest intimacy with Jesus Christ, so that they are " one with them as Jesus Christ is one with the Father." Finally, the respect with which believers receive, and acquiesce in, the doctrine of the apostles, and that of Jesus Christ, raises them to a participation of the same exalted glory and felicity; so that believers being united with the apostles, the apostles with Jesus Christ, and Jesus Christ with God, there resultSj from this union, a society, a whole, noble, sublime, possessing the perfection of glory and blessed- ness. Now it is the complete union of this whole, it is the perfection of this communion among all these orders of beings, that Jesus Christ hero asks of the Father. I. Let us first examine the relations in which Jesus Christ stands to God. Jesus Christ may bo considered under two different ideas, as God, and as Mediator. There are, accordingly, two kinds of rela- tion, Bulwisting between God and Jesus Christ: I. A relation of nature; aii- plied his church with every thing necessar}- to a clear knowledge, and a well grounded be- lief of all needful truth. When he committed to the hands of his di8ci(>les the ministry of his gospel, he obtained for them, in substance, the illun)ination which himself possessed, for the successful exercise of it. 2. But is it surticient to possess superior il- lumination, in order to the honourable and useful exercise of the Christian ministry? Is it sufficient to "speak with the tongues of men and of angels?" Is it sufficient to be endowed with the "gift of prophecy: to understand all mysteries, to have all knowledge?" 1 Cor. xiii. 1. Ah! how fruitless are the most pathetic sermons, if the preacher himself pretends to exemption from the obligations which ho would impose upon other men! Ah! how the most dazzling and sublime eloquence lan- guishes, when tarnished by the vices of the orator! This position, my brethren, admits not of a doubt: and let the retlection, however, humiliating, be ever present to our thoughts: one of the most insiumountable obstacles to the efficacy of preaching, is the irregular lives of |)rcacliers. If this reflection, at all times, rests on a solid foundation, it. was particularly the case with regard to those ministers whom God set apart to tho office of laying the very first founda- tions of his church, and to be themselves "the pillar and ground of the truth," 1 Tim. iii. 15. With what dreadful suspicions must not our minds have been perplexed, had we seen in tho persons whom Jesus Christ himself im- mediately chose to be his successors, the abo- minations which are visible in many of those who, at this day, pretend to fill his place in the church? What dreadful suspicions would agitate our minds, had St. Peter lived in the manner of some of those who have called tliemsclves the successors of St. Peter? If out of the same mouth, from which issued those gracious maxims which the Holy Spirit has preserved for our instruction, there had pro- ceeded, at tho same time, those iniquitous sen- tences, those sanguinary decrees, those insolent decisions, which have fulminated from the mouths of certain ponliils bearing the Chris- tian name? If these same apostles, who preach- ed nothing but superiority to tho world, no- thing but humility, but charity, but patience, but chastity, had been, like some of their pro- tended successors, addicted to tho spirit and practice of revenge, of ambition, of simonjr; magicians, fornicators; men polluted with abcjminations which tho majesty of this place, and the sanctity of the pulpit, hardly permit me to insinuate? What must not have been the infamy of committing such things, when the bore idea of them puts modesty to Uie blush? O how much better has Jesus Clirist, our Ser. LXXII.] CHRIST'S SACERDOTAL PRAYER. 161 great leader and commander, provided wliat- ever was necessary for the good of his church! During the wliolo course of his Hfe, he pre- sented a model of tlie most pure and consum- mate virtue. One of the great ends of his dc- votedness to death, was to engage his beloved disciples thence to derive motives to the prac- tice of holiness; this is the sense wliich may be assigned to that expression in the prayer, which he here addresses to his Father: " Kor their sakes I sanctify myself, that they may he siinclified," ver. 19. " For them I sanctify my- self:" the meaning may be, " I labour inces- santly to e.vcite thy love within me to a bright- er and a brighter flame, not only because it is a disposition of soul the most becoming an in- telligent creature, but that I may serve as a model to thcin who are to difl'use the know- ledge of my gospel over tlic world." Or, according to the interpretation of others, " for them I sanctify myself, that they may be sanctified," that is, " I devote myself to death for my disciples, to the end that, beholding in my sacrifice the horrors of sin, which I am about to e.\piate, and the overflowings of my affection for those in whose place I am sub- stituting myself, they may be engaged to ex- hibit an inviolable attachment to thy holy laws." Which ever of these two senses we af- fix to the words of our blessed Lord, they strongly mark that intense application of thought by which he was animated, to inspire his disciples with the love of virtue. This is not all, he is expressing an earnest wish, that assistance from Heaven might sup- ply what his absence was going to deprive them of: " For them I sanctify myself, tliat they may be sanctified." But now 1 leave the world. My disciples are going to lose the be- nefit of my instructions, and of my example. May a celestial energy, may divine communi- cations of resolution and strength occupy my place: " I pray not thou shouldst take them out of the world, but that thou shouldst keep them from the evil Sanctify them through thy truth: thy word is truth: as thou hast sent me into the world, even so have I also sent them into the world; and for their sakes I sanctify myself, that tiiey also might be sanctified through the truth." 3. Finally, Jesus Christ asks, in behalf of his disciples, a participation in the dominion of which he himself had taken possession. He had already, in part conveyed to them that dominion: " The glory which thou gavest me, I have given them; that they may be one, even as wo are one," ver. 22. What is that glory, wliich the Father had ^iven to Jesiis Christ, and which Jesus Christ had given to his apostles? Among a variety of ideas which may be formed of it, we must, in a particular manner, understand it as implying the gift of miracles. In virtue of this power, those sa- cred ministers were enabled to carry convic- tion to the human mind, with an energy of eloquence altogether divine. The resurrection of one who had been dead is the great exor- dium of their semions. This argument they oppose to all the sophisms of vain philosophy: " This Jesus hath God raised up, whereof we all are witnesses; therefore being by the right hand of God exalted he hath shed Vol. II.— 21 forth this which yo now see and hear," Acts ii. 32, 33. They confound those who continue proof against conviction. They call down the most formidable strokes of celestial indigna- tion on some of those who had dared to trifle with the oath of fidelity plighted to their di- vine Master. Ananias and Sapphira fall dead at their feet, Acts v. 9. " The weapons of our warfare are not carnal, but mighty, through God, to the pulling down of strong holds, cast- ing down imaginations, and every high thing that exalteth itself against the knowledge of God, and bringing into captivity every thought to the obedience of Christ: and having in a readiness to revenge all disobedience," 2 Cor. X. 4— G. Rut this is not the whole of that authority, and the whole of that power, which Jesus Christ wishes to be conferred on his disciples. He asks, in their behalf, that when they had, like him, finished the work which they* had given them to do, they should be exalted to the same glory; that after having " turned many to righteousness," they might " shine as the brightness of the firmament, and as the stars for ever and ever," Dan. xii. 3. This is what he had promised them: " I appoint unto you a kingdom, as my P''atlier hath appointed unto mc; that ye may cat and drink at my table in my kingdom, and sit on thrones judging the twelve tribes of Israel." This is what he asks for them: " Father, I will that they also whom thou hast given me be with me where I am; that they may behold my glory which thou hast given me: for thou lovedst nic before the foun- dation of the world .... that they all may be one, as thou. Father, art in me, and I in thee: that they also may bo one in us," ver. 24. 21. We conclude this head witii a reflection of no small importance: namely this, that among the graces which Jesus Christ prays for in be- half of his apostles, must be comprehended those which were necessary to the persons who were after them to exercise the gospel ministry. Wiiatever difference there may be between these two orders of ministers, they are the ob- jects of the same prayer. Their talents were to differ only in degree, and God, at this day, limits the measure of them, only because cir- cumstances have varied, and miracles are no longer necessary to the church. But as the apostles had, in substance, the same gifts with Jesus Christ, the ministers of the gospel like- wise partake in the gifts of the apostles, because they have received the same commission, and are called to build up the church, of which those holy men laid the foundations. Lofty idea of the aposlleship! lofly idea of the office of the gospel ministry! The apostles entered with Jesus Christ into the plan of the redemption of mankind, as Jesus Christ entered into it with God. And the ministers of the gospel, to this day, enter into the same plan wit il the apostles, as the apostles entered into it with Jesus Christ. The eternal Father, " before the foundation of the world," Matt. XXV. 34, foreseeing the deplorable misery in which tlie wretched progeny of Adam were to * The Krriich reads, qu'il leurdouac a Ciirc, which Ac had given Uicm to do. I. S. 162 CHRIST'S SACERDOTAL PRAYER. [Ser. LXXII. involve themselves, traced tlio plan of redemp- tion: from that period he provided the victim: from that period ho set apart for us a Redeemer: from tlial period, he prepared for us a kingdom. Jesus Christ, in tho fulness of time, came and executed this plan. He assumed our llesh. He lived among us. He sulfercd. He died. " I have glorified thee upon the earth. I have finished the work which thou gavest mo to do," ver. 4. The apostles succeeded their Master. And these holj men, with that heroic courage wliich the idea of a commission so honourable inspires into generous minds, braved and surmounted all the ditliculties which ojjposcd their progress. " They trod upon the lion and adder: tlie young lion and dragon they trampled under feet," I's. ici. 13. " Power was given them to tread on serpents and scorpions, and over all tlie power of the enemy," Luke x. 19. 'J'hey took as a model in their course (it is an idea of the psalm- ist,) that glorious orb of day, whose "going forth is from tho end of the heaven, and his circuit unto the ends of it," Ps. xix. 6. " Yes, verily, their sound went into all the earth, and their words unto the ends of the world," Rom. X. 18. They rose superior to the powei-s of sense and nature: they subdued the passions which have naturally the greatest influence over the heart of man: they " knew no man after the flesh," 2 Cor. v. 16. They carried on their souls the impress of their Saviour's vir- tues, as they bare liis marks imprinted on their bodies. The ministers of Jesus Christ assume the place of the apostles: they have one and tiie same vocation: they are called to the same work: they have to teach the same truths; the same vices to reprove; the same maxims to establish; the same threatenings to denounce; the same consolations to administer; the same felicity and the same glory to promise. "Who is sufficient for these things.'" 2 Cor. ii. 16. But we are upheld by you, all-powerful intercession of Jesus Christ with his Father! From your energy it is that we obtain, in our retirement, that attention, that composure, that concen- tration of thought of which we stand in need, in order to penetrate into those lively or.acles which it is our duty to announce to this people. From your powerful energy it is we obtain tliat clearness, that fervour, that courage, that ele- vation of spirit of which we stand in need in this chair of verity, to exalt us above the ma- lignant censure of a mummring multitude, ever disposed to find fault with those who preach the truth. To you we must stand for ever indebted for the success of our ministry, and for the hope we entertain that this people, to whom we mi- nister in holy things, shall one day bo " our joy and our crown," 1 Thcss. ii. 19. HI. Thus are we led forward, my brethren, to the third division of our discourse, in which you are most particularly interested. It is truly delightful to behold " the Author and Finisher of our faith" united, in a manner so intimate with tho Deity. It is delightfid to behold those apostles, whoso writings are in our hands, and whose doctrine is the rule of our faith, inti- mately united to Jesus Christ as he is with God. There is, however, something behind still more purticulu: and luoro consolatory. All tliusc | different relations, of Jesus Christ witli God, of the apostles with Jesus Christ, have been formed only in the view of producing others, and these allect you. Attend to the interest which you have in tho jirayer of Jesus Christ: " Neither ])ray I for these alone, but for them also which shall believe on nie through their word: that they all may be one, as thou, Father, art in me, and 1 in thee; that they also may be one in us," ver. 20, 21. Awake to a sense of the dignity of your high calling, contemplate the unbounded extent of your privileges. Heboid to what a height of glory you are encouragt-d to aspire, and what unspcakai)le beiichts you already derive from the religion of tlie blessed Je.susl Already you possess with God, as does Jesus Christ, a unity of ideas, and you partake, in some sense, of his infallibility, by subjecting your faith to his di- vine oracles, and by seeing, if I may use tho expression, by seeing with his eyes. Already you have with God, as Jesus Christ has, a unity of will, by the reception of his laws, and by exerting all your powers, that his will may be done on earth as it is done in heaven. Already you enjoy with God, as does Jesus Christ, a unity of dominion: "all things are yours; whe- ther Paul, or Apollos, or Cephas, or the>vorld, or life, or death," 1 Cor. iii. 21, 22. "You arc already partakers of a divine nature," 1 Pet. i. 4. " You are already transformed into the same image, from glory to glory, even as by the spirit of the Lord," 2 Cor. iii. 18. lîut how is this union still marred and in- terrupted! How imperfect still tliis "participa- tion of the divine nature" and this " trans- formation into the same image!" Let this be to us, my brethren, a source of humiliation, but not of dejection. A more glorious state of things is to succeed the present: " it doth not yet appear what we shall be; but we know that when he shall appear we shall be like him; for we shall see him as he is," 1 John iii. 2. A new influx of light with which the soul shall be replenished, a new influx of divine love with whicii the heart shall be inflamed, a new influx of felicity and delight with which the immortal nature shall be inundated, are going, ere long, to place in its brightest point of view, all the sublimity, all the excellency of our condition. " Father, I pray not for my disciples alone, but for tliem also who shall believe in mo through their word: that they all may be one; as thou, Fatlicr, art in me, and I in thee; tliat tliey also may be one in us." IJut how is it possible for the miserable pos- terity of Adam, how is it possible for wretched creatures born in sin, how is it possible for frail mortals, a compound of dust and ashes, "that dwell in houses of clay, whose foundation is in the dust, which are crushed before the moth," Job iv. 1 9, how is it possible for beings so mean, so degraded, to become "one" with God, aa Jesus Christ is " one" with him.' Away, Christians, away with every shade of incredulity. Nothing is too great for this pray- er to procure. Tln;ro is nothing that God can deny to this dying Intercessor. Let tho mind he filled to its utmost capacity, with all that is vast and aflecting in the sacrifice which Jesus Christ was about to present to his Fatlicr. Consider lliat "God is love," 1 John iv. 16. Ser. LXXII.] CHRIST'S S/VCERDOTAL PRAYER. 163 And what could tlio God who is " lovo" refuse to the Kcdeeincr of the world, at tlie moincut when he was going to devote himself, with siicli ardour of affection, for the salvation of man- kind? Behold him the Redeemer of a lost world, behold him ready to afKx the seal to the great work which God had committed to him: behold him prepared to bo " led as a lamb to the slaughter, and as a sheep, dumb before her shearers," Isa. liii. 7; behold him prepared to undergo that punishment, the bare idea of which makes nature shudder: behold him pre- pared to enter into " the deep mire where there is no standing," of which the prophets speak, Ps. Ixix. 2, and all this out of that love, and all this from that principle of charity whicJi glowed in his compassionate breast. At that moment of love, at that moment which embraces an eternity — pardon me the expression, my friends, and condemn nie not, if in a subject which has nothing human, I am constrained to employ modes of speech which are not in common use among men — at that moment which embraces a whole eternity, when charity was carried as far as it could go, this Redeemer presents himself before the God of love, and asks of him, that in virtue of this sacrifice of love, which he is going to otier up, all the faithful, this people, yoti, my dearly be- loved brethren, you might be crowned with the felicity and with the glory with which he him- self was to be crowned; but to which, love would have rendered him insensible, had he not pro- mised himself to communicate them, one day, to men, the objects of his tenderest affection. O mysteries of redemption, how far you transcend all expression, all thought! Ye an- gels of light, who live in the bosom of glory, turn aside your eyes from beholding wonders which dazzle the heaven of heavens: bend lowly over the mystical ark, and search it to the bot- tom. And you, for whom all these wonders are wrought, children of fallen Adam, bow down in gratitude and adoration, and measure, if you can, the dimensions, " the length, the breadth, the height, the depth, of that abyss which passeth knowledge," Eph. iii. 18, 19. My brethren, there is an air of credulity and superstition in what passes between a dying person, and a minister who is endeavouring to fortify him against the fears of death. Tiie minister hastl)e appearance of an impostor, and the dying person of a visionary. We promise to a man extended on a sick bed, to a man who is in a few days to be shut up in a tomb, and to become a prey to worms, we promise him an eternal abode, and rivers of pleasures: we assure him that he is the favourite of heaven, at the very moment when he is going to become the abhorrence of the earth, at the very moment when corruption and rottenness are hastening to put to flight from his person his most affec- tionate friends. These pretensions are, how- ever, incontestable. They are founded on the charitable prayers which the Redeemer of men addressed to the God of love, at the time when he himself was perfected in love: " I have glo- rified thee on the earth: I have finished the work which thou gavest me to do," and I am going to seal with my blood that awful ministry which thou hast committed unto me. Grant to my obedience, grout to the prayers aud to the blood of thy expiring Son, that which is niost capable of 8up|)ortiiig him amidst those fearful objects with which he is surrounded; it is the salvation of that world of believers, who are to embrace my doctrine: " Father, I will that where I am, those whom thou hast given me may may bo there also with me, that they may behold my glory: and I pray not for them only, but also for those who shall believe in thee through their word." These prayers, my brethren, are still pre- sented. Jesus Christ is still doing in heaven, what, in the days of his flesh, he did upon earth: he is " even at the right hand of God," where he still " maketh intercession for us," Rom. viii. 31. He is still "able to save them to the uttermost, that come unto God by him, seeing he ever liveth to make intercession for them," ilcb. vii. 25. But do we avail ourselves of these prayers.' But are we seconding this inter- cession.' Alas! I was preparing to set open to you all the treasures of consolation which we see issuing from a dying Saviour's prayers. But I find, in that prayer, one word which stops me short; one word which terrifies me; one word which suggests an inquiry that awakens a tliousand solicitudes: are we in the class of those for whom Jesus Christ prayed to the Fa- ther; or are we of those for whom, he tells us, he prayed not' Does it contain the sentence of our absolution; or that of our eternal con- demnation? You have heard this word; but have you seriously weighed its import' Have you listened to it witii that composure, and with that application which it demands? The word is tliis: " I pray not for the world; I pray for those whom thou hast given me," ver. 9. My disciples for whom I pray to the#, " are not of the world, even as ] am not of the world," ver. 14. We frame for ourselves a morality that suits our own fancy. We look upon a worldly spirit as a matter of trivial importance, which it is scarcely wortli while to tliink of correcting. A preacher who should take upon him to condemn this disposition of mind, would pass for a mere declaimer, who abused the liberty given him, of talking alone from the pulpit. A worldly life, wasted in dissipation, in pleasure, at play, at public spectacles, has nothing terrifying in our eyes. But be pleased to learn from Jesus Ciirist whether or not a worldly spirit be a tri- vial matter. But learn of Jesus Christ what are the fatal effects of a worldly mind. It is an exclusion from the glorious catalogue of those for whom Jesus Christ intercedes. It destroys the right of pretending to those blessings which the Saviour requests in behalf of his church: " I pray not for the world; I pray for them whom thou hast given me." IVly disciples, for whom I pray to thee, " are not of the world, even as I am not of the world." Would you wish to know whether Jesus Christ is an intercessor for yoa' Would you wish to know whether you are of the number of them who shall, one day, be where Jesus Christ ia' See whether you can distinguish yourself by this character, " they are not of the world, even as I am not of the world." And what is it not to be of the world? Not to be of the world, is not to live in de- serts and in sohtudes: it is not for a man to bury 164 CHRIST'S SACERDOTAL I'KAYER. [Ser. Lxxn. himself before he is dead, and to pass his hfo as it were in a tomb. Jesus Christ and his apos- tles lived in society; but they sanctitied society by useful instruction and by a holy example; but they were the light of the world, and if they mingled " in the uiidst of a crooked and per- verse nation," they were " blameless and harm- less, and without rebuke;" and shone among tliem. iS'ot to be of the world, is not to abandon the reins of government to ruHians. Jesus Christ and his apostles permitted Christians to occupy the most distinguished stations in society; but it was their wish and endeavour, tliat wliile they filled such stations, they should guard agaiast the illusions of tiieir own lustre: that they should not imagine tliemselves exalted to ter- restrial greatness merely to display their own vain self-importance, but that they should ever keep in view the necessities of those whose hap- piness is intrusted to their care. Not to be of the world, is not to break off all relation with the world, to be always absorbed in meditation, in contemplation, in ecstacies. No, religion is adapted to the various relations of human life; to fathers, to children, to mas- ters, to servants. But not to be of the world, is never to lose sight, even in the distraction of worldly con- cerns, of the end which God proposed to him- self, when he placed us in the world: it is con- stantly to recollect that we have a soul to be saved; an account to render; a hell to shun; a heaven to gain: it is habitually to direct, towards these great objects, the edge of our spirit, the vivacity of our passions, the ardour of our de- sires: it is to be able to say, at the close of life, with Jesus Christ, as far as the infinite distance between the sanctity of this divine Saviour and ours can permit: " Father, 1 have glorified thee on the earth, I have finished the work which thou gavest mc to do. I have fought the good fight; I have kept the faith," 2 Tim. iv. 1. Wo be to the man who, at that fatal i)eriod, shall be reduced to the necessity of holding an op- Îosite language, and of saying, " Scarcely have , as yet, put my hand to the works which thou gavest me to do. Scarcely have 1 employed an instant of my time in meditating on eternity." Wo be to the man who shall then have cause to say: and ah! how many such are there, under the name of Christians! I have employed part of my life in cultivating my estate, in swelling my revenue, in "pulling down my barns and building greater," Luke xii. 18. I have de- voted another part to the delights of a present life, to refinement in ])leasure. A third has been employed in gratifying tlie most criminal appetites, in vomiting out blasphemy against my Benefactor, in waging war with religion, morals, and common decency, in scandalizing the church of CJod by my impurities and excess. Let us not be ingenious in practising illusion upon ourselves. Let us not amuse ourselves with unprofitable speculations respecting the meaning of these words, " 1 pray not for the world." What bold and rash researches have the schools pursued on the subject of this saying of Christ' What cliiinerical consecjuences have not been deduced from it' But from these I must still revert to this grand principle: Are you of the world, or are you not of the world? " Say not in thine heart. Who shall ascend into heavea' or. Who shall descend into the deep? the word is nigh thee, even in thy mouth, and in thy heart," Rom. x. 6 — 8. " The friendship of the world is enmity with God," James iv. -1. If you are of the world, you arc not of the num- ber ot" those for whom Jesus Christ pleads. If you are not of the world, you are within the decree of his election: he has interceded for you, and you are warranted to expect all the fruits of his intercession. These reflections will probably excite, in some, many a painful apprehension, amounting to a conviction that you are in the dreadful class of those for whom Christ intercedes not. But if it be high time to renounce this world, by acts of penitence, of mortification, of a sincere return unto God, let us proportion these acts to the degree of criminality v^hich renders them necessary. The love of the world has inspired a taste for voluptuousness: let us deny ourselves by a course of abstinence, during the passion weeks, even from what is necessary to nature. The love of the world has transported us into excesses of worldly joy: let us clothe ourselves in sackcloth and ashes, during the passion weeks, or rather let us present unto God the " sacrifice of a broken and contrite heart," Ps. li. 19. Let u? make extraordinary efforts to disarm his wrath, ever enkindled against the abominations of the Christian world. Let us say to him a thousand and a thousand times, as we turn our eyes towards the cross of Jesus Christ: " O Lord, righteousness belongeth unto tlieu, but unto us confusion of faces:" Dan. ix. "7. Let us entreat him by those bowels of love which prompted him to restore a fallen world, that he would disunite us from the creature, and unite us to himself if we act in this manner, we have every thing to expect from a God whose great leading cha- racter is love. He will take pity on this wretched people. He will have comp;ission on these miserable provinces, in which it seems as if every individual had undertaken the task of shutting his own eyes, in order to precipitate himself, with the greater indifference, into the abyss which is gaping to swallow us up: he will repress those sea-piracies which have reduced so many families, and impaired the general commerce: he will remove those dreadful plagues which have ruined so many respectable conmmnities as well as individuals: he will stop those fearful inundations which have already committed such devastation in the midst of us, and which still occiusion so many well-groimded alarms: he will reconcile the hearts of the po- tentates of Europe, and engage them to use their united eflbrts to promote the happiness and the glory of the Christian world. Much more, if we are not of the world, wo shall partake of delights which the world knows not of, and which it cannot take from us, as it cannot bestow. If we are not of the world, wo shall have cause of self-gratulation, with our divine Master, that we are not like tlioso des- perate madmen who seem resolutely bent on mutual and self-destruction; and in these senti- ments shall thus address ourselves to God: "O righteous Father, the world hath not known thee: but I have known thee," ver. 25. If we aro not of tlie world, wo sliall be animated with Ser. LXXIII.] THE CRUCIFIXION. 165 a holy intrepidity, wlmn death takes tis out of the world, nay, when the world and its founda-* tions crumlilc into dust bcneatli our feet. We shall be fdled with joy unspeakable wlien we reflect, that we are leaving a world of which we were not, to jjo to that of which wu are citizens. We shall say, amidst tlic tears and lamentations of a last adieu: " It is true, my dear children, it is true my dear friends, I leave you upon the earth: hut my Jesus is in heaven, and I go to be wliere he is: " having a desire to depart, and to be with Christ, which is far bet- ter," Phil. i. 23; it is true, I tear myself from you, and it is like tearing me from m)'self; but this mouniful, is not an overlasiting separation. Jesus Christ has prayed cqualiy for you and for me. He has asked for me and for you, tiiat we should all be " where he is, that wo may all be one in him and with the Father:" and 1 only go before you a few instants into this state of blessedness. Ah! God grant, that after having preached the gospel to you, we may be enabled to say, with Jesus Christ, at our dying hour; " Father, those that thou gavest me 1 have kept, and none of them is lost!" ver. 12. God grant tliat there may be no " son of perdition" in this as- sembly! May God vouchsafe to hearken to the praj^r which we present in your behalf, in tiiis place, and which we shall present to him on a dying bed: or rather may God vouchsafe to hear the prayer which Jesus Ciirist presents for us: " Father, I will that they wliom thou hast given me, be with me where 1 am; that they may be- hold my glory!" Amen. To the Fatlier, to the Son, and to the Holy Spirit, be honour and glory for ever. Amen. SERMON LXXIII. THE CRUCIFIXION. PART I. Matthew xxvii. 45 — 53. ■Now from the sixth hour there was darkness over all the land unto the ninth hour. .Ind about the ninth hour Jesus ci'ied with a loud voice, saying, Eli, Eli, lama sabachthani? that is to say. My God, my God, lohy hast thou forsaken me? Some of them that stood there, when they heard that, said. This man callelh for Elias, ^flnd straightway one of them ran, and took a sponge, and filled it icith vinegar, and put it on a reed, and gave him to drink. The rest said, Let be, let us see whether Elias will come to save him. Jesus, tchen he had cried again with a loud voice, yielded up the ghost. »ÎH(/, behold, the veil of the temple was rent in twain from the top to the bottom: and the earth did quake; and the rocks rent; and the gi-aves irere opened; and many bodits of saints which slept, arose, and ca)ne out of the graves after his resurrection, and went into the holy city, and appeared uiito many. We are going to set before you this day, my Christian friends, the concluding scene of the most dreadful spectacle that ever the sun beheld. On beholding the order, the prepa- rations, and the approacliing completion of the sacrifice of Isaac, the soul is thrown into as- tonishment. A father binding his own son with cords, extending him upon a funeral pile, raising up an armed right hand to pierce his bosom; and all tiiis by the command of Hea- ven! What a prodigy! At such a sight reason murmurs, faith is staggered, and Providence seems to labour under an indelible imputation. But a seasonable and happy interposition dis- sipates all this darkness. An angel descends from heaven, a voice pierces the yielding air: " Abraham, Abraham, lay not thy hand upon the lad: for now I know that tiiou fearest God, seeing thou ha.st not withheld thy son, thine only son from me," Gen. xxii. 12. And this revolution silences the murmurings of reason, re-establishes our faith, and vindicates the ways of Providence. A griiater than Isaac, my brethren, a greater than Abraham is here. This sacritice must be completed; this victim mast die; this burnt- offering must be reduced to ashes. In the preceding chapter you have seen the command given, the scaflbld erected, the arm extended to smite the devoted Jesus. You are going to behold him expire; no victim substituted in his room; no revocation of the decree; and in- stead of inquiring like Isaac, " Behold the fire and the wood; but where is the lamb for a burnt-ortering?" ver. 7, he savs, " Lo, I come; .... to do thy will, O my God," Ps. xl. 7, 8. Jesus expires: the dead leave their tombs: the sun withdraws his light: nature is convuls- ed at tiie sight of her Creator dying upon a cross. And the Son of God's love, before he utters his last sigli, gives a free course to his complaints, and makes an astonished world re-echo those mournful sounds: " My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken mer" ver. 46. And you. Christians, what are you to be- come at beholding this spectacle; and what effects arc these objects to produce, that shall be in any proportion to their magnitude? With whatever success our happiest addresses to you may be crowned, your actions must ever fall far short of your obligations and engagements. It is possible, however, that on certain points, we may have commendation only to bestow. When restitution is the theme, some one per- haps conscience-struck, some Zaccheus is in- duced to restore four fold. When tiie doctrine of forgiveness and reconciliation is preached, some one, smitten to tlie heart, is, it may be, disposed to open his arms to an estranged bro- ther. But what fruit can this discourse pro- duce, capable of, I do not say, fulfilling your obligations, but that shall bear any manner of proportion to them? Were your heart-^, hence- forward, to burn with the purest and most ar- dent affection; were your eyes to become a living fountain of tears: were every particle of yourframo to serve as a several victim to peni- tence; were this vaulted roof to cleave asunder; were the dead, deposited in these tombs, to start up into life: what would there be in all this that is not absorbed by the objects which we are going to display? Come and clothe yourselves in mourning with the rest of nature. Come, with the cen- turion, and recognise your Redeemer and your God; and let the sentiments which severally occupy all these hearts and minds unite in this 166 THE CRUCIFIXION. [Ser. Lxxm. one: " I am crucified with Clirist; nevertheless I live, yet not 1, but Christ iiveth in me; and the life which I now live in the Hesh, I live by the faith of the Son of God, wlio loved me, £Uid gave himself for me," Gal. ii. i-'O. Amen. That you may derive from the words which wo have read, the fruit which the Holy Spirit presents to us in thuin, we shall, 1. Attempt some elucidation of the letter of tlie text: and then, 2. Endeavour to penetrate into the spirit of it, and dive to the bottom of the mysteries which it contains. I. We be of day, which can Uike place only at the chajigc, whereas it was tlieu at tlic full, being the fourteenth day of the month of March; it ■ appears, 1 say, from these considerations, that this darkness was not an eclipse properly so caHed, but an obscuration effected by a special interference of Providence, which wo are un- able clearly to explain. If we are incapable of assigning the cause, we are equally incapal)le of determining the extent of this wonderfiil appearance. The ex- pression in the original, " there was darkness over all the land," or, according to St. Luke's phraseology, " over all the earth," chap, xxiii. 44, which presents at first to the mind an idea of the whole globe, is frequently restricted in Scri])ture, sometimes to the land of Judea, sometimes to the whole Roman empire; and this ambiguity, joined to the silence of the sa- cred historians, renders it impossible for us to decide whether the darkness overspread the land of Judea only, or involved all tlie rest of our hemisphere. Neither do we deem it of importance to dwell on an examination of the monuments supposed to be found in antiquity respecting the truth of the prodigy of which we have been speaking. Among those which are transmit- ted to us on this subject, there is one which bears visible marks of forgery. I speak of the testimony of Dionysius, falsely denominated the Areopagite, who affirms that he himself saw, in Egypt, the darkness mentioned by the evangelists, which drew from him this excla- mation: " Assuredly either the God of nature is suffering, or the frame of the universe is going to be destroyed."* The learned have so clearly demonstrated that the author of this book is an impostor, who, though ho did not live till the fourth century, would neverthe- less pass for the Dionysius who was converted to Christianity, by the preaching of St. Paul on J\Iars-hill, Acts xvii. 34, that this author, transfixed with a thousand wounds, is fallen, never to rise again. Much more dependence is, undoubtedly, to be placed on what is said by Phlegon, sumam- ed the Trallian, the emperor Adrian's freed- man. lie had composed a history of the Olym- piads, some fragments only of which have reached us: but Eusebius the historian has preserved the following passage from it:] " In the fourth year of the two hundred and second Olympiad, there was an eclipse of the sun, much greater than any one which had ever before been observed. The night was so dark at noon-day that the stars were perceptible, and there were such violent earthquakes in Bithynia, that the greatest part of the city of Nicea was swallowed up by it." These are the words of Eusebius: but tlie inquiries to which they might lead could not be prosecuted in an exercise like the present, and they would en- croach on that time which wo destine to sub- jects of much higher importance. 2. The evangelists tell us in the second place, that " the veil of the temple was rent in twain, from the top to the bottom." There wore two veils in the temple at Jerusalem; that which was suspended over the door that * Diony-". Areorajj. lorn. ii. p. 91. and Anoot. Oorder. p. 3.?. and 102. Edit. Antwerp, 1634. f EusrI). Tampb. TheMurui Temporum, p. 158. Edit. Amsl. 1U59. Ser. LXXIII.] THE CRUCIFIXION. 1G7 separated the holy place from the exterior of tlic temple, which .losciihus calls " a Babyloni- an hanging," embroidered curiously witli gold, purple, scarlet, and fine flax.* There was also a veil over the door which separated the holy place from the Holy of Holies. The expres- sion in the text the veil, described in Exod. xxvi. 31, and denoted the veil by way of ex- cellence, makes it presumable that the second is here meant. 3. The evangelist relates that "the graves were opened; and many bodies of saints which slept, arose, and went into the holy city, and aj)peared unto many." This has induced in- terpreters to institute an inquiry, who those dead persons were? It is pretended by some that they were the ancient prophets; others, with a greater air of probability, maintain that they were persons lately deceased, and well known to those to whom they appeared. But how is it possible to form a fixed opinion, when we are left, so entirely in the dark? 4. Our last remark relates to the interpreta- tion afHrmed to the Syriac words which Jesus Christ pronounced; " Eli, Eli, lama sabachtha- ni," and which St. Mark gives in the Chaldaic form. The evangelist tells us, that some of those who heard Jesus Christ thus express him- self, said that " he called for Elias." The persons who entertained this idea, could not be the Roman' soldiers, who assisted at the execu- tion. By what means should they have known any thing of Elias? They were not the Jews who inhabited Jerusalem and Judea; how could they have been acquainted with their native language? They must have been, on the one hand, Jews instructed in the traditions of their nation, and who, on the other, did not under- stand the language spoken at Jerusalem. Now this description applies exactly to those of the Jews who were denominated Hellenists, that is to say, Greeks: they were of Jewish extraction, and had scattered themselves over the different regions of Greece. But whence, it will be said, did they derive the strange idea, that Jesus Christ called for Elias? I answer, that it was not only from the resemblance in sound between the words Eli and Elias, but from another tradition of the Jews. It was founded on those words of the I)rophet Malachi: "behold, I will send you Elijah the prophet and he shall turn the heart of the fathers to the children, and the heart of the children to their fathers," chap. iv. 6; an oracle which presents no difficulty to the Christian, whom Jesus Christ has instructed to consider it as accomplished in the person of John Baptist. But the Jews understood it in the literal sense: they believed that Elias was still upon mount Carmel, and was one day to reappear. The coming of this prophet is still, next to the appearance of the Messiah, the object of their fondest hope.f It is Elias, as they will have it, who " shall turn the heart of the fathers unto the children: and the heart of the children unto their fathers." It is Elias, who shall prepare the way of the Messiah, who sliall be his forerunner, and who shall anoint him with the holy oil. It is Elias, who * Exod. ixvi. 36. Joseph. Wars of the Jews, Book vi. chap. 14. t See Kiinchi and Xhaa Jùcra on Mai. iv. 5. shall answer all their inquiries, and resolve all their difllculties. It is Elias, who by his pray- ers, shall obtain the resurrection of the just. It is Elias, who shall do for the Jews of the di.si)ersion, what Aloses did for the Israelites enslaved in Egypt: he shall march at their head, and conduct them into Canaan. These are all expressions of the Rabbins, whose names I siip|)ress, as also the lists of the works from which we extract the passages just now quoted. Here we conclude our pro])osed commentary on the words, and now proceed: II. To direct your attention to the great ob- ject exhibited in the text, Jesus Christ exjiiring on the cross. We shall derive from the words read, six ideas of the death of Jesus Christ. I. The death of Christ is an expiatory sacri- fice, in which the victim was charged with the sins of a whole world. 2. It is the body of all the shadows, the truth of all the types, the ac- complishment of all the predictions of the an- cient dispensation, respecting the Messiah. 3. It is, on the part of the Jewish nation, a crime, which the blackest colours are incapable of de- picting, which has kindled the wrath of Hea- ven, and armed universal nature against them. 4. It presents a system of morality in which every virtue is retraced, and every motive that can animate us to the practice of it, is display- ed. 5. It presents a mystery which reason cannot unfold, but whose truth and importance all the difllculties which reason may urge are unable to impair. 6. Finally, it is the triumph of the Redeemer over the tomb. 1 . The death of Jesus Christ is an expiatory sacrifice, offered up to divine justice. " Eli, Eli, lama sabachthani: My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me?" This is the only proof which we shall at present produce in support of the doctrine of the atonement. It is, un- doubtedly, difficult, to determine with preci- sion, what were, at that moment, the disposi- tions of the Saviour of the world. In general, we must carefully separate from them every idea of distrust, of murmuring, of despair. We must carefully separate every thing injuri- ous to the immaculate purity from which Jesus Christ never deviated, and to that complete submission, wJiich he constantly expressed, to the will of his heavenly Father. We have here a victim, not dragged reluctantly to the altar, but voluntarily advancing to it; and the same love which carried him thither, supported him during the whole sacrifice. These com- plainings, therefore, of Jesus Clu-ist, afford us convincing reasons to conclude, tliat his death was of a nature altogether extraordinary. Of this you will become perfectly sensible, if you attend to the two following reflections; (1.) That no one ever appeared so deeply over- whelmed, at the thought of death, as Jesus Christ: (2.) That no person ought to have met death witli so much constancy as he, if he un- derwent a mere ordinary death. ( 1 . ) No one ever appeared so deeply over- whelmed, at the thought of death, as Jesus Christ. Recollect in what strong terms the sacred authors represent the awful conflict which he endured in the garden of Gethse- mane. They tell us of his mortal sorrow: " my iîoul is exceeding sorrowful even unto deatli," Matt. xxvi. 38. They speak of liis agony: 168 THE CRUCIFIXION. [Sea. L^nL "being in an agony," says St. Luke, xxii. 44. Thoy spoak of Ills fears: he was lieard in that he feared: they speak of his cries and tears: " he ortered up prayers and suiiplicalions, with strong crying and tears," Heb. v. 7. They speak of the prodigious cfTect wliich the fear of death produced upon liis body: " his sweat was as it were great drops of blood faUing down to the ground." Tiiey even spake of the desire which he felt to draw back: " O my Fa- ther, if it be possible, let this cup [)as3 from mo," Matt. xxvi. 39. And in our text, they represent him as reduced to the lowest ebb of resolution: " My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me?" Is it possible to be more depress- ed at the thoughts of deatlt' (2.) But we said, secondly, That no person ought to have met death with so much con- stancy as Jesus Christ, if he underwent a mere ordinary death. For, 1. Jesus Christ died with perfect submission to the will of his heavenly Father, and witli the most fervent love towards the human race. Now, when a man serves a master whom he honours, when he suffers for the sake of per- sons whom he loves, he sufters with patience and composure. 2. Jesus Christ died with the most complete assurance of the justice of his cause, and of the innocence of his life. When, at the hour of death, conscience is roused as an armed man; when the recollection of a thousand crimes awakes, when a life of unrepented guilt stares the dying sinner in the face, the most obdurate heart is then stretched on the rack. But when, at a dying hour, the eye can look back to a life of innocence, what consolation does not the retrospect ins|)ire? This was the case with Jesus Christ. Who ever carried so far charity, holy fervour, the practice of every virtue.' Who ever was more blameless in con- duct, more ardent in devotion, more pure in secret retirement? 3. Jesus Christ died, thoroughly persuaded of the immortality of tlie soul. When a man has passed his life in atheism, and is dying in a state of uncertainty: haunted with the appre- hension of falling into a state of annihilation; reduced to exclaim, with Adrian, " O my soul, whither art thou going?" Nature shudders; our attachment to existence inspires horror, at the thought of existing no longer. But when we have a distant knowledge of what man is; when we are under a complete conviction tiiat ho consists of two distinct substances, of spirit, and of matter; when wo become thoroughly per- suaded, that the destruction of the one does not imply the destruction of the other; that if " the dust return to the eartli as it was, the spirit shall return unto God who gave it," Ec- cles. xii. 7; when wo know that the soul is the seat of all perception; that the body is merely a medium of intelligence; that the soul, when disengaged from matter, may retain tlie same ideas, the same sentiments, as when united to the body; that it may be capable of perceiving the sun, the stars, the firmament, death is no longer formidable. This, too, was the case with Jesus Christ. If ever any one enjoyed a persuasion of the inunorUility of the soul, and of the resurrection, it undoubtedly was this di- vine Saviour, lie it was who had derived all tlio stores of knowledge from the bosom of the Father, and who had " brought life and im- mortality to light," 2 Tim. i. 20. IV. Finally, Jesus Christ died in the perfect assurance of that felicity which he was going to take possession of When the dying person beholds hell opening under his feet, and begins to feel the gnawings of " the worm which dicth not, and the torment of the fire that is never to be ([uenched," Mark ix. 44, it is not aston- ishing that he should die in terror. But when he can say, as he looks death in the face, "there is the termination of all my woes, and the reward of all my labours; I am going to re- store my soul into the hands of my Creator; I behold heaven open to receive it;" what trans- ports of delight must not such a prospect im- part! Such, too, was the case with Jesus Christ. If ever any one could have enjoyed a foretaste of the paradise of God; if ever any one could conceive sublime ideas of that glory and blessedness, still it was Jesus Christ. He knew all these things by experience: he knew all tlie apartments of the kingdom of his Fa- ther: from God he had come, and to God he was returning. Nay there must have been something peculiar in his triumph, transcend- ently superior to that of the faithful in general. Because "he humbled himself, and became obedient unto death, even the death of the cross; God was about highly to exalt him, and to give him a name that is above every name," Phil. ii. 8, 9. A cloud was going to serve him as a triumphal car, and the church triumphant was preparing to receive their King in these rapturous strains: " Lift up your heads, O ye gates, and be ye lift up, ye everlasting doors, and the King of glory shall come in," Ps. xxiv. 7. What, then, shall Jesus Clirist do? shall he meet death with joy? shall he say with St. Paul, " I have a desire to depart'" shall he exclaim with the female celebrated in ecclesiastical his- tory: this is the day that crowns are distribut- ed, and I go to receive my share? No, Jesua Christ trembles, he grows pale, his sweat be- comes " as great drops of blood," Luke xxii. 14, he cries out, " My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me?" Add to these reflections, the promises of divine assistance, which all the fliithful have a right to claim, in the midst of tribulation, and which .lesus Christ must have had a far supe- rior right to plead, had he died a mere ordinary death; but of the consolation flowing from these he seems entirely deprived. Add, in a particular manner, the example of the martyrs. They met death with unshaken fortitude: they braved the most cruel torments: their firmness struck their very executioners with astonishment. In Jesus Clirist we behold nothing similar to this. Nay, I will go farther, and say, that ever» ^ the penitent thief discovers more firmness, in ^ his dying moments, than the Saviour himself. He addresses himself to Jesus Christ, ho im- plores his mercy, and^ set at rest by the pro- mises given to him, he expires in traiuiuillity: Jesus Christ, on the contrary, seems equally to despair of relief from heavcu and from the eartii. The opposurs of the satisfaction of Jesus Ser. LXXIII.] THE CRUCIFIXION. 160 Christ will find it absolutely impossible to re- solve these difticulties: the doctrine of the sa- tisfaction is the only key tliat can unlock this mystery. " Innumerable evils have compassed me about," is the prophetic language of the psalmist, "mine iniquities have taken hold upon me, so that I am not able to look up: they are more than the hairs of mine head, therefore my heart faileth me," Pa. xl. 12. " He was wounded for our transgressions, he was bruised for our iniquities: the chastisement of our peace was upon him:" as Isaiah ex- presses himself, chap. liii. 5. *' God spared not his own Son," Rom. viii. 32, " he hath made him to be sin for us," 2 Cor. v. 21, " be- ing made a curse for us," Gal. iii. 13, to use the language of St. Paul: this is what we un- dertook to prove; and this is the first idea un- der which we proposed to represent tlie dying Saviour of the world. SERMON LXXIII. THE CRUCIFIXION. PART II. Matthew xxvii. 45 — 53. JJhw from tlu sixth hour there was darkness over all the land unto the ninth hour. Jlnd ahout the ninth hour Jesus aied vnth a loud voice, saying, Eli, Eli, lama sabachthani? that is to say, My God, my God, ivhy hast thou forsaken me? Some of them that stood there, vhen thty heard that, said, This man cullcth for Elias. Jlnd straighticay one of them ran, and took a sponge, and filled it with vinegar, and put it on a reed, and gave him to drink. The rest said, Let be, let us see whether Elias will come to save him. Jesus, when he had cried again with a loud voice, yielded up the ghost. And, behold, the veil of the temple icas rent in twain from the top to the bottom: and the earth did quake; aiul the rocks rent; and the graves were opened; and many bodies of saints which slept, arose, and came out of the graves after his resur- rection, and went into llie holy city, and ap- peared unto numy. Having represented the death of Christ under the idea, 1. Of an expiatory sacrifice, in which the victim was charged with the sins of the whole world; we proceed, 2. To consider it, as the body of all the sha- dows, the truth of all the types, the accom- plishment of all the predictions of the ancient dispensation, respecting the Messiah. In fact, on what state or period of the Old Testament church can we throw our eyes, without dis- covering images of a dying Jesus, and traces of the sacrifice which he offered up? If we resort to the origin of all our woes, there also we find the remedy. You will dis- cover that Adam had no sooner by transgres- sion fallen, than God promised him a " seed, whose heel the seed of the scrjjent should bruise," but who, in the very act of suffering, should " bruise the serpent's head,"' Gen. iii. 15. You will find this same promi.se repeated to Abraham; that seed ainiounced anew to the patriarchs, and, taking St. Paul for youi- Vol. II.— 22 instructer, you will discover that this seed is Jesus Christ, Gal. iii. 16. If you contemplate the temporal wonders which God was pleased to work in favour of the Jewish nation, you will discover every where in them an adumbration of the spiritual blessings which the death of Jesus Christ was to procure for the church. You will there see the blood of a lamb on the doors of the Israel- ites. It was the shadow of that " Lamb with- out blemish and without spot, foreordained be- fore the foundation of the world," 1 Pet. i. 19, 20. You will there behold a rock, whicii when smitten, emitted a stream sufficient to quench the thirst of a great people. This was a shadow of Jesus Christ. St. Paul tells us that it was Christ himself, who refreshes us with " living water, springing up into everlasting life," 1 Cor. X. 4, and John iv. 14. You will there behold a serpent lifted up, the sight of which healed the deadly wounds of the Israelites. It was a shadow of him who was to be lifted up on the cross. If you look into the Levitical worship, you will perceive through the whole types of this death, a perpetual sacrifice, tlie type of hira " whom God hath set forth to be a propitiation through faith in his blood," Rom. iii. 25. You will there behold victims, the types of him "who, through the eternal Spirit, offered him- self without spot to God, to purge the con- science irom dead works, to serve the living God," Heb. ix. 14; a scape-goat, bearing " on his head all the iniquities of the children of Israel," Lev. xvi. 21. The type of him who " suffered for us without the gate," Heb. xiii. 13. If you run over the predictions of the pro- phets, you will find them, as with one mouth, annomicing the death of Jesus Christ. Now it is Isaiah who lifts up his voice, saying, " He is despised and rejected of men, a man of sorrows .... who made his soul an offering for sin .... who is brought as a lamb to the slaugh- ter, and as a sheep before her shearers is dumb, so he openeth not his mouth .... who was oppressed, and was afflicted .... who was cut off out of the land of the living," chap, liii. 3, &c. Now it is Daniel who holds up the same object: " Messiah shall be cut off, but not for himself," chap. ix. 26. Now Za- charias takes up the subject, and under the in- fluence of prophetic inspiration, gives anima- tion to the sword of "the Lord of Hosts: Awake, O sword, against my shepherd, and against the man who is my fellow: smite the shepherd, and the sheep shall be scattered," chap. xiii. 7. Now the prophetic David, mi- nutely describing his sufferings, in such affect- ing terms as these: " My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me? Why art thou so far from helping me, and from the words of my roaring? O my God, I cry in ihe day time but thou hearcst not; and in the night season, and am not silent: .... I am a worm and no man; a reproach of men, and despised of the people: all they that see me laugh me to scorn; liicy shoot out the lip, and shake the head," Ps. xxii. 1, 2. 6, 1; and, in another place: " Save nic, O God, for the waters are come in unto my soul: I sink in deep mire, where there is no standing: I am- come into deep waters, 170 THE CRUCIFIXION. [Seh. LXXIU. where tlic Hoods «vorllow lue. I am weary of my crying, my throat is dried: iiiiiio eyes fail while I wait for my God .... for thy sake I have horno reproach, siiaine hatli covered my face Il(;()roacli hatli broken my heart, and I am full of heaviness: and I looked for some to take i>ily, hut there was none; and for comforters, but I found none; they ffave me also gall for my meat, and in my thirst tliey gave mo vinegar to drink," I's. Ixix. I, ii, tte. Such good rca.son have we to consider the death of Jesus C'hrisl under this second idea: it is in our text. The Saviour a|i()roi)riates to himself the prediction in the twenty-second psalm: "My God, my God, why hast tiiou for- saken me?" and, in order that the Scrijiture might he fulfdh'd, he gives occasion to his i:xe- cutioners to present him with vinegar, wliicli preceded his expiring exclamation, " It is finislied," as it is related by another of the evangeli.sts. 3. The death of Jesus Christ is, on tho ])art of the Jews, an atrocious crime, wiiicii lias roused the indignation of Heaven, and armed universal nature iigainst them. But where fihall we find colours black enougli to dci)ict it' Here the most ardent ellbrts of the imagination must fall far below the reality, and the most lively images come short of truth. Supposing we possessed the faculty of col- lecting, into one point of view, all tliat was gentle in the address of Jesus Christ, all that was fervent in his piety, humble in his dcj)orl- ment, pure in his conduct: supposing us capa- ble of making an enumeration of all tiie bene- fits which he accumulated on the heads of those monsters of ingratitude; the gracious exhorta- tions which he addressed to them; the mira- cles of goodness wliich he performed among them, hi healing the sick, and raising the dead: supposing we could display to you those ma- lignant calumnies with which they loaded him, those abominable and repeated falseiioods, those cruel and remorseless importunities for permission to put him to death, wortiiy of tiio severest execration had they been employed even against tho most detestable of mankind: could wo represent to you all that was barba- rous and inhuman in the punislmient of the cross; by telling you that it was a huge stake crossed by another piece of wood, to which they bound the body of the person condenmed to terminate his life upon it; tiiat the two arms were stretched out upon that cross beam, and nailed, as well as botii the feet, to tho tree, BO that the body of tho BulFerer, sinking with its own weight, and susjiended by its nerves, was speedily reduced to ojie vast wound, till the violence and slowness of tlie torment at length delivered him, and the blood drained otf drop by drop, thus exhausted tiie stream of life: su])p(jsing us to have detailed all the ig- nominious circumstances which accompanied the death of Clirist; that crown of thorns, that purple robe, that ridiculous sceptre, that wag- ging of tlie head, those insulting defiances to save himself, as he had saved others — sujipos- ing, I say, all this could lie colh^cted into one point of view, we should still believe that we had conveyed to yf>u iiiea.s much too feeble, of the criminality of the Jews. Nature convulsed, and the cleiiieuls con- 1 founded, shall supjily our defects, and serve, this day, as so many preachers. The prodigies which signalized the death of Jesus Christ shall persuade more j)owerfiilly than all the figures of rlicloric. That darkness which covers tiie earth, tliat veil of the temi)Ie rent in twain, that trembling wjiicli has seized the solid globe, those rocks dell asunder, tiioso yawning graves, those reviving dead, they, they are the pathetic orators who reproach tiie Jews with the atrocity of tlieir guilt, and denounce their impending destruction. Tin; sun shrouds him- self in the shades of night, as unable to behold this accursed parricide, and wliat courtly poets said in adulation, namely, that the orb of day clotiied himself in mourning, whr;n Julius (^'sur was a.s.>«Ls.siiiated in the .senate house, was here realized under special direction of divine Trovidence. The veil of the temple is lent asunder, as on a day of lamentation and wo. Tlie eaitli trembles, as refusing to sup- l)ort tlie wretches, whose sacrilegious hands were attacking the life of him who "fastened tlie Ibundations thereof," Job xxxviii. 6, and " founded it ujion its bases," Ps. civ. 6. The rocks cleave, as if to reprove the Jews for the hardness of their hearts. The dead start from tiieir tombs, as coming to condemn the rage of the living. 4. Tiie deatii of Jesus Christ is a system of morality, in which every virtue is clearly traced. • If the divine justice be an oliject of fear, where is it more powerfully int-ulcated than on the cross of Jesus CliiisL' How very terrible does that justice there appear! It goes in pursuit of its victim into the very heaven of heavens. It extends on tho altar a Divine Man. It spares not the Son of God, his own Son. And thou, miserable sinner, who canst present nothing to tho eyes of thy judge but what is odious and abominable, how slialt thou bo able to escape his vengeance, if violating the law» of the gospel thou renderest thyself so much the more worthy of condemnation, that thou hadst, in that very gospel, the clicctual means of. deliverance.' If vice is to bo held in detestation, where is this lesson so forcibly taught as from tho cross of Jesus Christ? Let the man wiio makes light of sill, who forms to himself agrocable images, and feeds on flattering ideas of it, learn, at the cross of Christ, to contemplate it in its true light: let him form a judgment of tho cause from the ellccts; and let him never think of sin, without tliinking at the same time, on the pangs which it cost the Saviour of the world. If we wish for models to copy, where shall we find models so venerable as on the cross of ClirisL' Let the i)roud man go to tiie cross of Ciirist; let him there behold the Word in a state of humiliation; let him there coiiteiii]dato the person who made himself of no reputation, and took upon him the form of a servant, and condescended to submit to the punishment of a slave: tho person who being in tiie form of (iod, thought it not robbery to be equal with (iod: hit the proud man look to him, ami learii to Ik! humble. Let the vnlujituous repair to the cross of Christ; let him tiiero behold the ilcsh crucified, the senses subdued, pleasure mortified, and leara tu bring lurth iruits meet Sen. LXXIII] THE CRnriFIXION. 171 for ropentancn. Lot. Iho implacable repair to i Tho (rospcl tolls iis not that sfroatness and tlio cross of (Jhrisl; l(!t him thnio contf:iii|il;it(! doprcssiuii, lh;il i^jiioiiiiiiy and p,\f heaven against the Jewish na- tion. It may likewisi^ i)n considered in anotlier point of view, conformably to the decision of St. Paul, and to the ideas of the Jews. That people looked on their temples as a figure of the universe. We have, on this subject, pas- sages expressly to the purpose, in Philo and Jo- scphus. All that was on the outside of the most holy place, represented, to them, nature and the elements. The scarlet colour of the sanctuary represented fire. The hyacinthine represented the air. The seven branches of tho candlestick represented tlie seven planets. 172 THE CRUCIFIXION. [Ser. LXXIU. The twelve cakes of show bread rcjircsenlcd tlje signs of tlie Zodiac, and the twelve iiioiilhs of the year. liutthey said, that the most holy place had been set a|)art for (lud: thai tht; I'ro- pitiatury was his throne, tliat the cherubim were his ciiariot.* On this principle, the veil, which separated the holy place from the Holy of Holies, was an imago of the obstacles which interposed be- tween the creature and the heavenly habita- tion, in which God resides. This veil is rent asunder at the death of Jesus Christ; these ob- etaclcs are removed; access into the abode of the blessed is open to us: and this is the spirit of the ceremonial observance prescribed in the Levitical worship: " Into the second went the high priest alone, once every year, not without blood," says St. Paul in his epistle to the He- brews; "The Holy Ghost tiiis signifying, that tlie way into the holiest of all was not yet made manife*, while as the first tabernacle was yet standing: but Christ being come, a high priest of good things to come, by a greater and more perfect tabernacle, by his own blood, entered into the holy place, having obtained eternal re- demption for us," Heb. ix. 1, Sic. Death, then, has nothing, henceforward, for- midable to the Christian. In the tomb of Je- sus Christ are dissipated all the terrors which the tomb of nature i)resents. In the tomb of nature, O sinner, thou bcholdest thy frailty, thy subjection to the bondage of corruption: in the tomb of Jesus Christ thou beholdest thy strength and thy deliverance. In the tomb of nature the punishment of sin stares thee in the face: in the tomb of Jesus Christ thou findcst the expiation of it. From the tomb of nature thou hcarest the dreadful sentence pronounced against all the posterity of Adam: " Dust thou art, and unto dust shalt thou return," Gen. iii. 19: but from the tomb of Jesus Christ issue those accents of consolation: " I am the resurrection, and the life; he that believeth in me, though he were dead, yet shall he live," John xi. 25. In the tomb of nature thou readest this universal, this irrevocable doom I written: " It is appointed unto men once to die," Heb. ix. 27; but in the tomb of Jesus Christ, thy tongue is loosed into this triumphant song of praise: " O death, where is tliy sting? O grave, where is thy victory? Thanks be to God who giveth us the victory, through our Lord Jesus Christ," 1 Cor. xv. 55. 61. All that now remains is to conclude with a few reflections by way of recapitulation. My brethren, for some weeks j)ast, there have been traced before your eyes the successive particu- lars of the passion and death of the Saviour of the world. You have seen him betrayed, ap- prehended, arraigned, condemned, and expiring under the most shameful, and tlie most cruel of all punishments. Do you comprehend all that is sublime in these truths? Do you feel, in all its extent, the value of these benefitji'' Have you, at least, made the attempt to take the dimen- sions of the love of God, and " to com])rehend with all saints, what is the l)readtii, and length, and depth, and height: and to know the love of Christ, which pawcth knowledge, that you * Consult Jowjih. Aiilii). lil>. iii. cap. 5, anJ I'liil. de Vita Mo»i», lib. iii. p. 0G7, «ic. may Ix; filled with all the fullnew of God?" Kph. iii. 18, 19. Ah! let us beware, my beloved brethren, tliat we ilcceive not ourselves as to this; after lo many dislinguislicd tokens of the grace of God, we are going to become the most wretch- ed, or the happiest, of all creatures. Our con- dition admits not of mediocrity. The two interesting extremes present themselves to view — the extreme of justice, and the extreme of mercy. We are going to prove all that is mild and gentle in the peace of God, or all that is tremendous in his indignation: and that blood which we have seen poured out, must be upon our heads either to attract, or to repel, the thunder. " His blood be upon us, and on our chil- dren," Matt, xxvii. :;5. This was the impreca- tion of those barbarous Jews, who with impor- tunity demanded the death of Jesus Christ, and glutted themselves with his sutterings. But it was, in a far different sense, the interior voice of those believing souls, who entered into the design of God, wiio, by faith, sprirdiled them- selves with this blood, which was to form the bond of union between heaven and earth. " His blood be on us, and on our children." This is the voice which now resounds from ear to ear, and which must be accomplished on this assembly, in one sense or another. Yes, this blood shall be upon you, in vengeance and malediction, as it was upon ungrateful Jerusa- lem, in your families to trouble their peace, in your plans to defeat them, in your establish- ments to sap them to the foundation, in your consciences to harrow them up, in your death- bed to darken it with horror and despair, and through all the periods of eternity, demanding the expiation of the crime, of having trampled under foot the blood of the Son of God, and of having crucified afresh the Lord of glory. Or it will be upon you, yes, this blood will be upon you, to strengthen you under all your in- firmities, to preserve you in the hour of temp- tation, to console you under the pressure of calamity, to speak peace to the troubled con- science, to support you in dying agony, to ren- der your death blessed, and eternity triimi- phant. I dwell for a moment on these last ideas, and under an illusion of charity, I apply them to all those who compose my audience. Happy they, to whom they are applicable of a truth! To have been attentive to the history of the sufferings and death of tiie Saviour of the world, which, for some time past, has been the great subject of our address, to have traced it through all its successive circumstances, to have felt the necessity, and to have penetrated into the design of the whole; to have applied to ourselves the lessons which it inculcates, the consolations wiiich it supplies, the hope which it inspires; to deduce, from those grand objects, consequences affecting the conduct of life, tending to promote sanctity of manners, supe- riority to the world, love to God so rich in mercy, desire of possessing that in perfection, of which displays so astonishing, convey ideas so su!)lime After tlmt, to come next Lord's day to the table of Jesus Christ, with the understanding convinced, the heart overflowing, the soul Ser. LXXIV.] OBSCURE FAITH. 173 penetrated: to discern, in tlio bread and the wine of which wc are to partake, the symbols of that death, whose memorial the cliiircli is celebratiiijj: to promise unto Cîod, over tliose august pledges of his love, to render to iiim love for love, and life for life: to expand tiie heart in such emotions; to communicate in sueh a dis|^)OBition, and to wait for death under such impressions — these are the loftiest objects which man can propose to his meditation. This is the highest point of perfection which wo are capable of attaining, in the course of this mortal pilgrimage. This is llie purest de- light that we can taste in this valley of tears. I trust, my dearly beloved brethren, that these sublime objects shall not have been pre- sented to you in vain. I trust tiiat so many exhortations will not fall to the ground totally without success. I trust that these first emo- tions, which it is impossible to withhold from an expiring Saviour, will not be "as the early cloud, and as the morning dew," Hos. vi. 4; which appear for a moment, and arc dissipated in a moment. I trust they will henceforward engage your heart, your mind, your whole life, and that they will accompany you to the bed of death. I trust, that when this awful period comes, instead of that mortal reluctance, in- stead of those insupportable forebodings which imrepented guilt inspires, the image of Jesus Christ crucified, present to your eyes; what do I say, of .Jesus Christ crucified? of Jesus Christ raised from the dead, glorious, sitting at the right hand of his Father; of Jesus Christ, pre- senting continually before his eyes the value of that blood which he shed for the salvation of the human race; of Jesus Christ extending his arms to receive your departing spirit, that he may bind it up "in the bundle of life:" I trust that this image will dispel all the terrors of death, and thus prepare you to pass from the dispensation of grace, to the dispensation of glory. In the dispensation of grace, you have be- held the Son of God invested with " the form of a servant;" in the dispensation of glory, you shall behold him arrayed in all splendour and magnificence. In the dispensation of grace, you have beheld the King of kings attended by an humble train of disciples of but mean appearance: in the dispensation of glory, you shall behold him accompanied by the heavenly hosts, legions of angels and archangels, of the cherubim and of the seraphim. In the dispen- sation of grace, you have beheld Jesus Christ expiring ignominiously upon the cross: in the dispensation of glory, you shall behold him in the clouds of heaven, judging the quick and the dead. In the dispensation of grace, you have heard the lips of your Saviour thus speak- ing peace to your soul: " Son, be of good cheer, thy sins are forgiven thee:" in the dispensation of glory, you shall hear this decision from his mouth; " Come, ye blessed of my Father, in- herit the kingdom prepared for you from the foundation of the world," Matt. xxv. 34. May God of his infin\te mercy grant it! To him be Jionour and glory now and for ever. Amen. SERMON LXXIV. OBSCURE FAITH; OR, TIIE BLESSEDJŒSS OF BELIEVIKG, WITHOUT lUVmO HEEM John xx. 29. Jesus saith unto him, Thomas, because thou hast seen me thou hast beliex^ed: blessed are they that have not seen, aiul yet have believed. Stravoe is the condition in which Provi- dence has placed the Christian. He is ever walking in the midst of darkness and obscurity. He is placed between two periods of gloomi- ness; between the cloudy night of the past, and the still darker night of futurity. Does he wish to a.scertain the truths which are the ob- ject of his faith? They are founded on facts; and in order to be assured of those facts, he must force his way backward, through more than eighteen hundred centuries: ho must dig truth and falsehood out of the rubbish of tra- dition; out of the captious systems of the ene- mies of Christianity; nay, sometimes out of the pious frauds, on which an indiscreet zeal has attempted to establish it. If he wishes to ascertain the reality of that blessedness which is the object of his hope, he must plunge himself, in quest of it, into periods which do not as yet subsist. He must " walk by faith and not by sight," 2 Cor. v. 1, he must depart, as Abraham did, and leave "his kindred and his father's house, without know- ing, precisely, whither he goes," Heb. xi. 8. It is necessary that his persuasion, if I may so express myself, should form a new creation of things, which have no real existence as to him; or, to use the expression of St. Paul, his " faith" must be " the substance of things hoped for, and the evidence of things not seen," Heb. xi. 1. Now, it is to such obscurity, it is to such darkness, that a man is called to sacri- fice all that the human mind is taught to con- sider as the greatest reality and certainty, I mean the decisions of reason, and the felicities of a present world. What a situation! What a strange situation! But be it as it may, we, this day, place our- selves, my brethren, between these two dark clouds; between the night of the past, and the night of futurity. In what are the duties of this day to terminate? What is the language suitable to the day which is now passing? / 6e- lieve: Ihojie. I believe that the Word was viade flesh, that he suffered, that he died, that he rose again: this is the night of the past. / hope that, in virtue of this incarnation, of these suf- ferings, of this resurrection, "an entrance shal? be ministered unto me abundantly, into tte everlasting kingdom of our Lord and Savour Jesus Christ," 2 Pet. i. 11, and that I shall partake in the felicity of the ever blesswd God: this is the night of futurity. / belkve, and to 174 OBSCURE FAITH. [Ser. LXXIV. that belief I immolate all the ideas of my in- tellect, all the systems of my reason. / hnpe, and to those hopes 1 immolate all the attrac- tives of sensual appetite, all tiio charms of tlie visible creation: and were "all the kingdoms of the world and the glory of them," Matt. iv. 8, to be put in my offer, on the condition that I should renounce my ho|)cs, I would consider the former " but dung," Phil. iii. 8, and cleave to the latter as the only real and solid good. Who is there among you, my brethren, who feels himself capable of this effort of mind! I acknowledge him to be a true disciple of Jesus Christ. He may rest assured that ho shall be received as a wortliy jiartakcr at tliat mysterious table, wliicli sovereign wisdom is once more, tliis day, furnishing before our eyes. But he may likewise rest assured, that his feli- city, veiled, invisible as it is, sliall remain more firm and unshaken, than all those things which are the idols of tho children of tliis world. To meditation on this interesting subject I devote the present discourse, to which you cannot ap- ply an attention too profound. Tho occasion of tho words of our text it would be unnecessary to indicate. Which of my hearers can be such a novice in tho gospel history as to bo ignorant of it' Thomas was not present with the other apostles, when Jesus Christ appeared unto them, after he had left the tomb. His absence produced incredulity. He refuses to yield to tho united testimony of the whole apostolic college. He solemnly pro- tests that there is but one way to convince him of the certainty of the resurrection of Jesus Christ, namely, to produce him alive. " No," says he, "except 1 shall see in his hands the print of the nails, and put my finger into the print of the nails, and thrust my hand into his side, I will not believe," John xx. 25. Jesus Christ is pleased to adapt his condescension to the weakness of this disciple, and to gratify a pretension so arrogant and rash: ho appears to Thomas, and says to him: " Reach hither thy finger, and behold my hands; and reach hither thy hand, and thrust it into my side: and be not faithless, but believing," ver. 27. Thomas is drawn different ways; by the shamo of hav- ing disbelieved, and tho joy which ho felt in being convinced by the testimony of his own senses, and exclaims, " My Lord and my God!" upon this Jesus Christ addresses liim in the words of the text: " Thomas, because thou hast seen me thou hast believed: blessed are they that have not seen, and yet have believed." You perceive from the occîision on which tho words were spoken, that they point, in the first instance, to the resurrection of Jesus Clurist. Wo shall take care, accordingly, not to lose sight of this object. Nevertheless, as the proposition of our blessed Lord is general, wo shall take it in all its generality: and shall discourse to you of that obscure faith which hjvorts to periods long since passed, and looks foiward into periods hidden in a remote futu- rity. The nature of obscure faith; the excel- lency of obscure faith: this is the simple divi- sion of my present dieconrso. Or, to convey a still clearer id.vi of my design, under the first head, I shall endeavour to unfold tho ambigu- ity of that expression; "to believe without having seen:" in tlie second, I shall evince tlic truth of this proposition; " blessed arc they tliat have not seen, and yet have believed." 1. Let us, in the first place, endeavour to explain tho naliire of obscure faith: or, as we have announced the subject of this first branch of our discourse, let us attempt to unfold the ambiguity of the expression, " Thomas, because thou liast seen, thou hast believed: blessed are they that have not seen, and yet have believed." I5y obscure faith we here mean, that which is founded, not on what a man has seen with his own eyes, not on what he has discovered to be true by the powers of his own reason, but on testimony wortliy of credit. Let this definition be carefully remarked: and let this be constantly kept in sight, that tiiough the faith of which we are speaking, has not a certainty resting on the evidence of tho senses, or on the conclusions of right rea- son, it has a certainty perfect in its kind, that wliicli rests on a testimony worthy of credit. Take care, therefore, not to confound an ob- scure faith with a fluctuating, unsettled, ill- founded faith. They are two things perfectly distinct, and it is impossible to distinguish them too carefully. Tho obscurity of which we are going to treat, is by no means incompatible with evidence. In order to comprehend it fully, it is neces- sary to distinguish two species of evidence: evidence of the object, and evidence of testi- mony. We call evidence of the object, that which rests, as I have said, either on the depo- sition of tho senses, or on tho disccrmnent of sound reason. I believe that you are now as- sembled within the walls of this church: I be- lieve it, because I sec it is so. The evidence which I have on this subject, is that species of evidence which I have denominated evidence of the object, and which is founded on the de- position of the senses. In like manner, I be- lieve that so long as you remain within these walls, you arc not in your own habitations. The evidence which I have to support this be- lief, is still that which I have denominated evi- dence of the object, namely, that which is founded on the light of my own reason, whereby I am assured, in a manner which leaves mo not the liberty of so much as doubting, that so long as you remain within this temple, you cannot possibly be in any other place. But if there be erndcnce of object, there is likewise evidence of testimony. 1 Ijolievc there is a vast region on tho globe, called tho king- dom of Persia. I have evidence to support this bolief: not tite evidciue of object, but the evidence of testimony. I believe that there is such a kingdom, though I have not seen it with my own eyes: but there is such a cloud of witnesses, of undoubted credit, who assure me of it, tliat the evidence of testimony supplies tho evidence of object. In like manner, I believe that a vessel of such or such a construction, and of so many tons burden, requires such a depth of water. I believe this, not because my rea- son has by its own powers made the discovery, for I never made mechanism of this kind my study; but the unanimous deposition of all who understand the art of shiji-building, gives mo full assurance of the fact, fills the place of my own intimate i)erpei>tion, and the evidence of testimony su])])lici> tiio evidence of object. Ser l\xiv.] OBSCURE FAITH. 175 Having thus explained our meaning, wlicn we say tliat faith in obscure, wJien we say tiiat tlie Christian holicvcs what he sees not, wc do not by tliis understand that he believes in what is destitute of proof, we only mean that ho behevcs tlie trutii of facts, of wliich he lias not been an ey(!-\vitness, that he bcheves in trutiis whicii he could not liavc discovered by his own reason, and that lie hopes for a felicity of which he has not a distinct idea: hut he be- lieves those facts, on the unanimous testimony of a g-reat number of witnesses, who could not possibly have acted in concert to deceive him: lie believes those truths on an infallible testi- mony: lie hopes on that same testimony, namely, on the word of God himself. In all these things, the evidence of testimony supi)lies the evidence of object. That it is of tliis kind of faith, we are to un- derstand these words in our tc.vt, " Blessed are they who have not seen, and yet have believ- ed," the occasion on whicli they were pro- nounced permits us not to doubt. Of what was Jesus Christ sjieaking to Thomas? Of his own resurrection. Who arc the persons he had in view, whom Providence was afterward to call to believe, without having seen.' Those who could not possibly bo the eye-witnesses of that resurrection, lint were the jicrsons, who should be called to believe the doctrine of tlie resurrection, to believe it without satisfying reasons of its trutli and certainly.' By no means. Call to your recollection, a part of what we submitted to your consideration, on this subject, upon another occasion.* We have in confirmation of the resurrection of Je- sus Cluist, 1. Presumptions. 2. Proofs. 3. De- monstrations. I. The circumstances of the death of the Sa- viour, and of his burial, furnish us with pre- sumptions on this subject. Jesus Christ died: his body was deposited in the tomb; but a few days afterward it was not to be found there. We thence presume that Jesus Christ is risen again. If Jesus Christ be not risen, his body must have been conveyed away: but how is it possible to maintain such an assertion.' To whom shall we impute such conveyance.' Not surely to his enemies. Could they be suspect- ed of a design to contribute to his glory, by giving currency to the report of his resurrec- tion? It can as little be imputed to his disci- ples. They had no inclination to do so: for how could men so notoriously timid, have formed an enterprise so daring and dangerous, and that in favour of a man (I go on the sup- position that Jesus Christ did not rise again,) who had thus abused their credulity? But had their inclination been over so strong, was it in their power either to surprise or to discomfit a guard forewarned of the design? These I call jiremmplions. II. The testimony of the apostles furnishes us with proofs of the resurrection. This tes- timony possesses no less than eight distinct characters, which raise it beyond the reach of all suspicion: 1. The nature of the witnesses, who had neither the credit, nor the riches, nor the eloquence necessary to practise an impos- * The render is rrfcrred to the siinum on The Re- surrection of Jesus C'hrut, of Rli. Kobiusou's SelecUoo. turo on mankind: 2. The number of those witnesses, amounting to more than five hun- dred: 3. The nature of the facts which are the subject of their evidence, things in which it was impossible they should deceive themselves, things wliich they had seen, heard, and per- ceived in the most sensible and palpable man- ner: 4. The uniformity of their testimony, which in no one instance ever contradicted it- .self: 5. The judges before whom their evi- dence was given; judires expert in the art of involving cheats in self-contradiction, but who never could detect any, in the witnesses of whom we arc speaking: 6. The place where their testimony was jiublished; for had the ajiostles gone and published the resurrection of the Lord Jesus, in regions remote from that where the fact could be completely sifted, they might have fallen under suspicion; but they attest it to the face of the whole city of Jeru- salem itself: 7. The time when this testimony was published, respecting which the same rea- soning applies which does to the circumstance of jilace: 8. The motives by which those witnesses were actuated, and which could be no other but the satisfying of their own con- .sciences, as, so far from having a temporal in- terest to promote, by the publication of this event, everj' temporal interest pressed in the opposite direction. But we have, likewise, of this truth, demon- strations properly so called. With these we are furnished in the miraculous gifts commu- nicated to those who attest it; of which we cannot entertain any doubt, without taxing with extravagance three sorts of persons equally clear of all ground of suspicion on such an oc- casion: 1. The apostles, who gave the history of those miracles, and relate in a manner the best adapted to expose imposture, on the sup- position of their having been impostors: 2. Their enemies, who in their writings against them, have not denied that they wrought mi- racles, but that these miracles were a proof of the truth of their doctrine: 3. Finally, their proselytes, who had the greatest imaginable interest in examining whether it were true that the apostles wrought miracles, who had all possible opportunities of ascertaining the fact, and who sacrificed their property, their reputation, their life, for a religion entirely resting on this truth — The apostles work mi- racles. These wc call so many demonstrations. This recapitulation sufliciently instructs us, that we are not called upon to believe an event so very extraordinary, as if it were destitute of proof: on the contrary, we believe it on proofs clear, cogent, and decisive. When, therefore, Jesus Christ says, " Blessed are they who have not seen, and yet have believed," he means not to say, that it is blessed to believe things destitute of evidence: he speaks only of things which have not the evidence of object, but whicli have that of testimony. Let us pursue this thought a little farther. The idea which we have suggested of obscure faith, distinguishes it from three kinds of con- viction, which are but tqo frequently con- founded with it: the faith extorted by tyranny; the faith generated in the brain of the enthusi- ast; and the lliith of the superstitious. 1. The liiith of which we speak, must be 178 OBSCURE FAITH. [Ser. LXXIV. carefully distinguislied from tho faith which is extorted by tyranny. Wo do not here under- stand that which violence would attempt to produce by the terror of punishment. Never did racks, gibbets, and stakes, jtroduce in the soul, any thing like conviction in favour of a religion which pretended to establish itself by arguments so odious and detestable. But there is a tyranny of a different kind, which has produced believers not a few. By dint of at- testing fictions, men have forced them into credit: by dint of insolent pretensions to infal- libility, the simple have sometimes been pre- vailed upon to admit it: and tho simple gene- rally constitute the bulk of mankind. We denominate that the faitk extorted by tyranny, which is yielded to the insolent deci- sions of a doctor, who gives himself out as in- fallible, without proving it; or to fabulous legends, unsupported by any respectable testi- mony. How, under the pretext that I am bound to believe facts, which I may never have seen with my own eyes, am I laid under an obligation to swallow every thing that a legendary is pleased to tell me? How, under the pretext that I am bound to believe truths which are above the reach of my reason, am I laid under an obligation to believe every thing proposed to me by a man, who may be practis- ing upon my credulity? And upon my refusing to believe on such a foundation, shall I be tax- ed with being incredulous like Thomas, and with saying as he did, "Except I shall see in his hands the print of the nails, and put my finger into the print of the nails, and thrust my hand into his side, I will not believe!" If you would have me believe the facts which you propose, produce me the proofs which support them, if not as complete as those which assure me of the resurrection of Jesus Christ, at least, such as are somewhat of a similar nature; and if you wish I should consider you as infallible, like the apostles, produce me proofs of your infallibility, equiva- lent to those which the apostles produced of theirs. But if on examining such pretended facts, I discover that they are fictions merely; if on examining the foundation upon which your infallibility rests, I find that the men who gave themselves out for infallible, while they lay claim to the infallibility of the apostles, are undermining tho doctrine of the apostles, I shall not reckon myself obliged to pay the slightest deference to their decisions. The faith which these decisions attempt to produce, will be faith extorted by tyranny, and which will have no relation whatever to that faitii which Jesus Christ expects from his disciples, and which is, in truth, obscure, but neverthe- less, well founded; which is destitute indeed, of the evidence of object, but which is ever ac- companied with the evidence of testimony. 2. In the second place, tho faith, of which we are treating, must be distinguished from that of the enthusiast; I mean that of certain Christians, who found the reasons which in- duce them to believe, entirely on such and such impulses, which they pretend to be the operation of the Spirit of God: impulses des- titute of illumination, and which determine the person thus agitated, to yield his assent to a. proposition unsupported by proof, or, at most, recommended by an air of probability. One of the marks wiiich distinguish false zeal from true, is, that this last, 1 mean true zeal, sacri- fices its own glory to that of religion, and is infinitely better pleased to acknowledge its own error, than to spread the slightest cloud over that pure and genial light in which reli- gion is arrayed. A man, on the contrary, who is actuated by a false zeal, sacrifices with- out hesitation, the glory of religion to his own: and maintains, at the expense of truth itself, the errors which he has advanced. This has been found to be the case with cer- tain eminent names, on the subject of our pre- sent discussion. The vehemence of tlie con- troversies which have been carried on, re- specting the operation of the Holy Spirit on tlie souls of believers, has frequently carried some of the disputants farther than they tliem- selves intended. In the heat of argumentation they have asserted, that the action of the Holy Spirit, which operates in the faithful, is carried so far as to give them a degree of faith, su- perior to the reasons which they have for be- lieving. When pressed by their adversaries, they ought to have acknowledged this to be one of the propositions which one is tempted to advance in tho warmth of dispute, and which candour, without hesitation, is disposed to retract, after the heat is subsided. But this were a sacrifice too great for self-love to make: it is deemed better that religion should suffer from the intemperate zeal of the sophist, than that the sopliist should correct his hasty posi- tion, by the illumination of religion. Thus, in order to support one absurdity, a still greater absurdity has been advanced. It has been maintained, not only that the follow- ing proposition is true, namely. The impulse of the Holy Si)irit gives us a faith superior to the reasons which we have for bcUeving; but this is absolutely necessary; for, it has been alleged, that the Christian religion being desti- tute of proofs which enforce assent, all those who should refuse to believe what is destitute of this kind of proof, must, in so doing, refuse to believe the Christian religion. God forbid that we should attempt to de- fend with weapons so empoisoned, the truths of religion! It was not thus that they were de- fended by Jesus Christ and his apostles. They called on men to believe, but they at tije same time, adduced proof of what they wished to be received as the object of faith. The Spirit of God undoubtedly, operates on the soul of every one who implores his assistance, but it is by making them feel the force of the proofs, not by convincing them of what it is impossible to prove. And who could be condemned for not having believed, were Christianity destitute of sufficient proof? would not the infidel be warranted in alleging: " I am not to blame, if I withhold my assent to such a proposition: I do not feel that impulse which engages one to believe what cannot be proved?" But the no- tion which we have given of faith, confounds every one who refuses to believe. Wo say, with Jesus Christ of tiic unbelievers of his time: " This is the condenmation, tiiat light is come into the world, and men loved darkness rather than light, because their deeds were evil," John iii. 19. Ser. LXXIV.] OBSCURE KAITH. 177 3. Finally, the notion which we liave given of faith, distinguishes it from that of the super- stitions. To believe, in the view of doinç honour to religion, a doctrine weakly proved, whatever may be the origin of tl)at doctrine, is to have a superstitious faith. Under this description may be ranked what has been de- nominated "faith extorted by tyranny, and faith generated in the brain of the enthusiast." But we have, under this particular, a different kind of superstition in view. To believe a truth completely proved, but without having examined the proofs which support it, is to have the faith of superstition. A trutli of which I perceive not the proofs, is no truth will» re- spect to me. What renders my disposition of soul acceptable in the sight of God, when I receive wliat he is pleased to reveal to rnc, is my reception of it as an intelligent being, after having weighed the motives which induced nie to give it welcome; after having discovered, on putting them in the balance with the oppo- site motives, that the first had greatly the ])re- ponderancy over the others. But to believe a truth with precipitation, to believe it without knowledge, is mere superstition. If it should determine you to declare yourself on the .side of truth, it must be entirely by chance, and, which may, to-morrow, plunge you into error, as it induces you, to-day, to embrace the truth. Obscure faith, then, is not a persuasion un- supported by proof, it is, in truth, destitute of the proofs which constitute the evidence of ob- ject; but not of those which constitute the evi- dence of testimony, as was from the beginning affirmed, and which it was necessary oftener than once to repeat. SERMON LXXIV. OBSCURE FAITH; OR, THE BLESSEDJ^ESS OF BELIEVLVG, WITHOUT HdVIJ^G SEEJf. PART II. John xx. 29. Jestts saith unto him, Thomas, because thou hast seen me thou hast believed: blessed are they that have not seen, and rjet have believed. We have endeavoured to explain the na- ture of obscure faith: and now proceed, as was proposed, II. To point out the excellency of this ob- scure faith. After having attempted to unfold the ambiguity of the expression in my text, "to believe without having seen," wo must endeavour to evince the truth of it, by demon- strating this proposition, announced by our blessed Lord, " Blessed are they who have not seen, and yet have believed." These words admit of a very simple, and very natural commentary, which we shall first produce, in order to explain them. The point in question is the resurrection of the Lord Je- sus: Thomas is to be convinced of the certain- ty of it, by nothing short of the testimony of bis own eyes: this mode of producing convic- VoL. II.— 23 tion, was going, henceforward, to cease. Je- sus Christ was shortly to leave the world: a cloud was soon to receive liim out of the sight of the inhabitants of this earth: " The heavens must now receive him, until the times of the restitution of all things," Acts iii. 21 The angels had declared to the apostles, as they stood rapt in astonishment at beholding their beloved Master disappear: " This same Jesus, which is taken up from you into heaven, shall so come, in like manner as ye have seen him go into heaven," Acts i. 11. The disposition of Thomas's mind, therefore, was going hence forth, to become universally fatal. Every one who should say with him, " except I shall see in his hands the |)rint of the nails, and put my I finger intotiie print of tlie nails, and thrust my hand into his side, I will not believe," must die and perish in unbelief There was to be, henceforward, no other way but this, of believ- ing without having seen, no other means of arriving at a participation in the felicity of be- lievers: " Thomas, because thou hast seen me, thou hast believed: blessed are they tliat have not seen, and yet have believed." This commentary contains much good sense. It does not, however, seem to me to have ex- hausted the whole meaning of Jesus Christ. God is supremely good: nothing appeared to him too dear for the salvation of the human race: he has made choice of means the best adapted to the execution of this great work. If he has made choice of means the best adapt- ed to the salvation of the human race, he has likewise made choice of the properest method of enabling us to avail ourselves of the ap- pointed means, and that method is obscure faith. Why so.' This is the point which we must attempt to elucidate: and some time ago, you will please to recollect, we undertook this task. For when that difficulty was urged against us, which unbelievers make the sub- ject of their triumph, " Wherefore did not Je- sus Christ show himself alive after his passion, to his judges, to his executioners.'" We made this reply, that the gift of working miracles bestowed on the apostles, and on the first Christians, constituted a proof more irresistible of his resurrection, than if he had shown him- self then, nay, than if he were still to show himself risen at this day. It might be retorted upon us, " That these two proofs, tiiat of miracles performed by his disciples, and tiiat of his personal manifesta- tion, were not incompatible with each other" Jesus Christ might first have shown himself alive after his resurrection; here would have been one kind of proof: he might afterward, upon his ascension, have sent the Holy Spirit to his apostles; this would have constituted a second kind of proof These two kinds of proof united, would have placed the truth of his resurrection far beyond the reach of all sus- picion. Wherefore did he not employ tliem? Wherefore did he not give to a truth of his religion so interesting, and of such capital im- portance, every species of proof of which it is susceptible?" To this we still reply, that ob- scure faith was a method far more proper to conduct us to salvation than a clear faith, founded on tho testimony of the senses, or on the personal discoveries of the believer liim- 178 OBSCURE FAITH. [Ser. LXXIV. self: "Blessed are Uiey that have not seen, and yet have beheved." A principle wliich we have, on other occa- Bions, laid down, will justify tliis reply. God has placed us in this world, as in a place of probation and sacrifice. It is his will that the manner in which we correspond to this view of his Providence, should determine our ever- lasting destiny. Let us try clearly to explain this principle, before we apply it to the subject in hand. In strictness of speech, God will not pro- portion the celestial felicity, which he reserves for us, to the exertions which we make to at- tain it. Did God observe the rules of an exact distribution in this respect, there is not a single person in the world, who durst flatter himself with being a partaker in that felicity: because there is no one, I speak of even the greatest saints, who does all that lie ought, and all that he might do, towards the attainment of it. Much more, supposing us to have done all that we could, and all that we ought to do, to be admitted to a participation in this blessed- ness, our utmost efforts never could bear any proportion to it. We must still say of every thing we undertake in order to salvation, what St. Paul says of the most cruel sufferings of the martyrs: " They are not worthy to be com- pared with the glory which shall be revealed in us," Rom. viii. 18. Tlie most extravagant thought, accordingly, that ever could find its way into the mind of man, is that of the per- sons who maintain the possibility of meriting heaven by their good works, nay, the pos- sibility of a man's meriting the kingdom of heaven for others, after having earned it for himself. But though there is not a proportion of ri- gorous justice, between the heavenly felicity, and the efforts which we make to attain it, there is a proportion of equity and of establish- ment. Permit me to explain what I mean by these words: God will not save mankind unless they exert themselves to obtain salvation. — Had it been his will to extend indiscriminating favour, he had only to open, without reserva- tion, the path to heaven; he had only to exert the supreme power, which he possesses over our souls, to infuse into them virtue and illumi- nation, and to put us in possession of a felicity already completely acquired, without subject- ing us to the necessity of employing indefatiga- ble and unintermitting efforts, in order to our acquiring it. But his views respecting man are altogether different from this. Hence it is that he is pleased to represent tlie life of a Christian, as a narrow path, in which he must walk; as a race which he must run; as a task which he must perform; as a warfare which he has to accomplisii. For this reason it is, that salvation is represented to us, as a victory to be won, as a prize to be gained, as a kingdom which can be taken only by the violent. God, then, has placed us in this world, as in a place of probation and sacrifice: it is his sovereign good pleasure, tliat the manner in which we correspond to his gracious views, shall decide our everlasting destination. Let us apply this principle to the subject under discussion; to that obscure faith, which discerns, in the darkness of the past, tliose facts on which the great truths of religion rest, as the building on its foundation; to that obscure faith, wliich penetrates into the dark- ness of futurity, there to discover the blessed- ness which religion proposes to us as the object of hope. 1. Let us apply the principle laid down, to that obscure faith, which discerns, in the dark- ness of the past, those facts on which the great truths of religion rest. There is more diffi- culty in attaining a discernment of the truth through the darkness of the past, than in be- holding the object with a man's own eyes. It is admitted. Had Jesus Christ appeared alive to his judges and executioners, after his resur- rection: were he to appear to us, at this day, as risen from the dead, we should have much less difficulty in believing the certainty of an event on which tlie whole Christian religion hinges. It is admitted. There would be no occasion, in order to attain the convic- tion of it, to employ extensive reading, to con- sult doctors, to surmount the trouble of pro- found meditation, to suspend pleasure, to in- terrupt business. It is admitted. But the very thing which constitutes your objection furnishes me with a reply. The trouble which you must take, before you can acquire conviction of the resurrection of the Saviour of the world, the extensive reading that is necessary, the consul- tation of learned men, those efforts of profound meditation which you must employ, that sus- pension of your pleasures, that interruption of your worldly business — all, all enter into the plan of your salvation: it is the will of God that you should exert yourselves diligently for the attainment of it. Let us suppose tlie case of two Christians: the first shall be St. Thomas; the second a Christian of our own days. Let us suppose both the two equally convinced of the resur- rection of the Saviour of the world; but ac- quiring their conviction in two different ways: Thomas convinced by the testimony of his senses; the modern Christian, by the attentive examination of the proofs which establisli the truth of it: Whether of these two Christians, according to your judgment, expresses the greater love of the truth.^ Whether of these two Christians makes the greatest sacrifice in order to arrive "at the knowledge of it' The one has only to open his eyes, the other must enter on a course of deep and serious reflection. The one has only to reach forth his hand, to touch the print of the wounds of Jesus Christ; the other must e.xert all the powers of his mind, in sifting the proofs, on which the doctrine is established. The one e.xpects that the Saviour should present himself to him, and say, " Be not faithless but believing," John xx. 21. The other goes forth seeking after the Lord Jesus, througii the darkness in which he is pleased to involve himself. Is it not evident that this last expresses incomparably greater love for the truth, and oflers up to it greater sacrifices than tile firsL' This last, then corresponds better to tlie idea of probation and sacrifice, to which wo are called, during the time which, by the will of God, we are destined to pass hi this world. Blessed therefore, with respect to the obscurity of the past, " blessed is he who has not seen, and yet has believed." Ser. LXXIV.] OBSCURE FAITH. 179 2. The same principle is applicable to what concerns the niglit of futurity. It would re- quire but feeble efforts, and would exhibit no mighty sacrifice, for a man to deny himself the delights of a present life, if the joys of the paradise of God were disclosed to his eyes. But how great is tlie magnanimity of the Christian, how wonderful the fortitude of the martyr, and, in propriety of speech, all Chris- tians are martyrs, who, resting on the promises of God alone, immolates to the desire of pos- sessing a future and heavenly felicity, all that is dear and valuable to him upon the earth? The present, usually, makes the most powerful impression on the mind of man. An object, in proportion as it becomes exceedingly remote, in some measure loses its reality with respect to us. The impression made upon the mind by sensible things engrosses almost its whole capa- city, and leaves little, if any portion, of its atten- tion, for the contemplation of abstract truths. Farther, when abstract meditations dwell on well known objects, they possibly may fix atten- tion, but when they turn on objects of which we have no distinct idea, they are little calculated to arrest and impress. j A Christian, a man actuated by that obscure | faith, whose excellency we are endeavouring | to unfold, surmounts all these difficulties. I | «ee neither the God who has given me the pro- | mises of an eternal felicity: nor that eternal feli- ) city which he has promised me. This God con- j ceals himself from my view. I must go from | principle to principle, and from one conclusion | to another, in order to attain full assurance that j he is. I find still much greater difficulty in ac- quiring the knowledge of what he is, than in rising up to a persuasion of his existence. The very idea of an infinite Being confounds and overwhelms me. If I have only a very imper- fect idea of the God who has promised me eter- nal felicity, I know still less wherein that felicity consists. I am told of a " spiritual body," 1 Cor. xv. 44: a body glorious, incorruptible: I am told of unknown faculties; of an unknown state; of an unknown economy: I am told of " new heavens and a new earth;" 1 am promised the society of certain spirits, with whom I have never enjoyed any kind of intercourse; 1 am told of a place entirely ditlcrent from that which I now inhabit: and when 1 would repre- sent to myself that felicity under ideas of the pleasures of sense, under ideas of worldly magnificence, I am told that this felicity has no resemblance to any of these things. Ne- vertheless, on the word of this God, of whom I have a knowledge, so very imperfect, but whose existence and perfections are so certain, I am ready to sacrifice every thing, for a feli- city of wliich I have a still more imperfect knowledge than I have of the God who has promised it to me. There is nothing more delightful to me, than to live in the bosom of my country and kin- dred: my native air has in it something conge- nial to my constitution; nevertheless, were God to call me as he did Abraham: were he to say to me in the words which ho addressed to that patriarch; " Get thee out of thy coun- try and from thy kindred, and from thy father's house," Gen. xii. 1. 1 will, without hesita- tion, obey: I will depart, without delay, for the land which ho shall please to show me. Nothing can be more delightful to me, than the possession of an only and beloved son: no- thing appears to me so dreadful, as separation from a person so dear to me; but, above all, there is nothing which inspires so much horror, as the thought of plunging, with my own hand, the dagger into his bowels. Nerverthe- less, when it shall please God to say to me, " Take now thy son, thine only son, whom thou lovest, and offer him for a burnt-offering, upon one of the mountains which I will tell thee of," Cien. xxii. 2, I will take that son, tliat ob- ject of my tenderest aflection, that centre of my desires, and of my complacency; I will bind him; I will stretch him out upon the pile; I will lift up my arm to pierce his side, per- suaded that the favour of God is a blessing, beyond all comparison, more precious than the possession of even that beloved portion of myself There is nothing capable of more agreeably flattering my ambition and self love, than to talk with authority; than to govern a whole world with despotic sway: than to rule over the nations, wliich look up to their sovereigns as to so many divinities; nevertheless, were a competition to be established between a throne, a crown, and the blessedness of the heavenly world, I would "esteem the reproach of Christ greater riches than the treasures in Egypt:" I would " choose rather to suffer affliction with the people of God, tiian to enjoy the pleasures of sin for a season," Heb. xi. 25. There is nothing to which my nature is more reluctant, than the suffering of violent pain. The idea of the rack, of being burnt at a stake, makes me shudder. I am convulsed all over at sight of a fellow-creature exposed to torture of this kind. What would it be, were I my- self called to endure them? Nevertheless, the lofty ideas I have conceived of a felicity which I have not seen, will elevate even me, above the feelings of sense and nature: I will mount a scaffold; I will extend myself upon the pile which is to reduce me to ashes: 1 will surren- der my body to the executioners to be mangled; and amidst all these torments, I will still cry out with triumph, " I reckon that the sufferings of this present time are not worthy to be com- pared with the glory which shall be revealed in us," Rom. viii. 18, " for our light affliction, which is but for a moment, worketh for us a far more exceeding and eternal weight of glo- ry," 2 Cor. iv. n. " Blessed be the Lord, my strength, which teacheth my hands to war, and my fingers to fight," Ps. cxliv. 1. I ask, my brethren, does not a man in such circumstances, correspond incomparably better to the idea of probation and sacrifice, than the person who should behold with his own eyes, the eternal recompense of reward which God has prepared for his children? The proposition of our blessed Lord, therefore, is verified with regard to periods still future, as with regard to periods already past. The vocation of the Cluistian, then, is to pierce through all those clouds, in which God has been pleased to en- velop the religion of Jesus Christ: the voca- tion of the Christian is to pierce through the obscurity of the past, and the obscurity of the 180 OBSCURE FAITH. [Ser, LXXIV. future; it is to make study to supply tlie want of experience, and hope tlie want of vision. *rhe felicity of the Christian depends on the manner in which he corresponds to his high vocation: " Thomas, because thou hast seen me, thou hast believed: blessed are they that have not seen, and yet have believed." This was the point to be demonstrated. It highly concerns us, my brethren, to fulfil this twofold engaçreinent, and tlnis to attain at length, supreme felicity, in tlio way which it has pleased God to trace for us. Let us, 1. Pierce through tlie obscurity of the past. Let us learn to make study siijjply tlie want of experience. Let us diligently api)ly our- selves to acquire the knowledge of our religion, by seeking after assurance of the truth of those facts, on which it is established. Of these, the resurrection of Jesus Christ is one of the chief: for " if Christ be not risen, then is our preach- ing vain, and your faith is also vain, ye are yet in your sins," 1 Cor. xv. 14. 17. But thanks be to Godj this fact, of such capi- tal importance, is supported by proofs wliich it is impossible for any reasonable man to resist. But it requires a considerable degree of at- tention, of serious recollection, to study these with advantage. To this study there must, of necessity, be sacrificed some worldly employ- ment, some party of pleasure: a man must sometimes retire into his closet, and get the better of that languor which deej) thougiit, and close reading naturally produce. But, O how nobly is he rewarded for all his labour, by the copious harvest which it yields! Wliat delight in discovering that God has proportioned the weight of the proofs by which his religion is supported, to the importance of each of its parts! What consolation to see that this truth, "Jesus Christ is risen," this truth which gives us the a.ssiirance that God has accepted the sacrifice of his Son, that the work of our salva- tion is accomplished, that access to the throne of grace is opened to us, that the disorders in- troduced by sin are repaired! \Vliat consola- tion to .see that a truth of such high importance is so completely ascertained, and that so many presumptions, so many proofs, so many demon- strations concur in establishing it! What satisfaction is it, thus to transport our- selves, in thought, into the apostolic ages, there to contemplate the wonders of redemption! For this is the efl^cct which study produces, of those exquisitely cronrlusive and irresistible proofs which demonstrate tlie truth of this great event: it transports us into the apostolic ages; it enables us to behold with the mind's eye what we cannot behold with the eyes of the body. After having thus torn up incredu- lity by the roots, with what an ecstacy of holy delight may the Christian apjtroach the table of the Lord, with full conviction of soul, and say to him with Thoma-s: " My iiord and my God." 'i'hc heart-atlecting jicrstia-sion 1 liave of wliat thy love has done for me, elevates, penetrates, overwhthns me. It will render easy to me the most painful proofs which it may plea.sc thee to prcscribe to my gratitude. " My Lord and my God, my Lord and my God, I regret all the time 1 have devoted to the world and its pleasures: henceforward 1 will think of thee, and thee only: 1 will live to thee, and thee only. Accept the dedication which I now make. Bear with the weaknen in which it is made: approve the sincerity with which 1 this day come to break off the re- maining attachments which fetter me down to the world; and to bind closer those of my communion with thee, the only worthy object of love and desire." How blessed shall we be, my beloved bre- thren, in thus penetrating through the obscuri- ty of the past! " Blessed are they who have not seen, and yet have believed." 2. But let us likewise penetrate through the darkness of futurity. Let hope supply to us the want of j)ossession. How shall it, hence- forward, be possible for us to entertain suspicion against the faithfulness of God's promises' Be- hold on that table what God is capable of do- ing in our behalf Behold by what miracles of love — O miracles of the love of God, we want language to express thee, as we want ideas to conceive thee! but behold on that table, behold by what miracles of love he has prevailed to make us the rich present of hiâ own Son, to expose him, for our sakes, to all that series of suflering which has been the sub- ject of our meditation during the weeks which commemorate the passion. Is it possible for us to believe that a God so gracious and so compassionate could have cre- ated us to render us for ever miserable? Is it possible to believe that a God so great, and so munificent should limit his bounty towards us, to the good things granted us here below, to that air which. we breathe, to the light which illuminates this world, to the aliments which sustain these bodies? Nay, is it possible for us to believe that he should permit us to remain long in this world, exposed to so many public and private calamities; to war, to famine, to mortality, to the pestilence, to sickness, to death? Away with suspicions so injurious to the goodness of our God. " He that spared not his own Son, but delivered him up for us all, how shall he not with him also freely give us all things?" Rom. viii. 3-2. Let us in- dulge ourselves in feasting on the delicioiisness of this hope: let us not destroy the relish of it, by wallosving in the pleasures of sense: let us habituate ourselves to pursue happiness in a conviction of the felicity prepared for us in another world. This hope, it is true, replenished as it ia with such unspeakable sweetness, is not with- out a mixture of bitterness. It is a hard thing to be enabled to form such transporting ideas of a felicity placed s. ill so far beyond our reach. " Hope deferred maketh the heart sick," Prov. xiii. 12. But we shall not be suffered to lan- guish long. " For yet a little while, and he that shall come will come, and will not tarry," I lei). X. i{". Yet a few short moments more, ;ind our great deliverer. Death, will come to our relief. Let us not stand aghast at his ap- proach. It is not becoming in Christians, who cannot attain the periuction of hapj)iness till alter death, to be still afraid of dying. Let us, on the contrary, anticipate the hour of death, by the exercise of a holy ardour and 7.eal. Let us look for it with submissive impatience: " Having a desire to dejiart, and to be with Christ, which is far better," Phil. i. 23, than Ser. LXXV.] THE BELIEVER EXALTED, &c. 181 any thin» we can possibly enjoy in tliis valley of tears. " He who testifieth these thinn^s, saith, surely I come quickly:" let lis rry out, in re- turn, " Amen. Even so, eome, Lord Jesus," Rev. xxii. 20. Come, Redeemer of my soul: I adore thee amidst the clouds in which thou concealest thyself: but vouchsafe to scatter them. After I have enjoyed the felicity of be- lievinfif, without having seen, let me likewise have the felicity of seeing and believing. T^et mo see with my eyes him whom my soul lov- eth: let me contemplate tiiat sacred side, from whence issue so many streams of life for the wretched posterity of Adam: let me admire that sacred body which is the redemption of a lost world: let me embrace that .Tosns who gave himself for me; and let me behold him, never, never to lose sight of him more." God, of his infinite mercy, grant ns all this grace. To him be glory for ever. Amen. SERMON LXXV. THE BELIEVER EXALTED TOGETHER WITH JESUS CHRIST. PART I. Ephesians ii. 4 — G. God \e}io is rich in merc\j,for his great love tvherc- wilh he loved us, even ichen we vere (lead in sins, hath quickened ws together with Christ (by grace tje are saved,) and hath raised ns up to- gether, and made us sit together in licavenly places in Christ Jesus. On studying the history of the lives of those eminent saints of God, whose memory Scrip- ture has transmitted to us, we can with difH- culty refrain from deploring the extreme dif- ference which God has been pleased to make between their privileges and ours. Nay, we are sometimes disposed to flatter ourselves, that if these privileges had been equal, our at- tainnvents in virtue might have made a nearer approach to those vvhich liave rendered them 60 respectable in the church. Who would not surmount the difficulties of the most painful career, if he were to enjoy, like Moses, inti- mate communications with Deity; if his eyes were strengthened to behold that awful ma- jesty which God displayed on mount Sinai? Who could retain the slightest shadow of in- credulity, and who would not be animated to carry the gospel of Christ to the uttermost boundaries of the globe, had he, like Thomas, seen the I,ord Jesus after his resurrection; had Jesus Christ said to hi(n, as he said to that apostle: " Reach hither thy finger, and he- hold my hands: and reach hither thy hand, and thrust it into my side: and be not faithless but believing," John xx. 27. Who could remain still swallowed up of the world, had he seen, with the three disciples, Jesus Christ transfi- gured on the holy mount; or had he been, with St. Paul, " caught up into the third hea- ven, and heard unspeakable words, which it is not lawful for a man to utter?" 2 Cor. xii. 2. 4 I have no intention, my brethren, to inquire how far this conception may be illusory, and bow far it may be founded in truth: but I wish you attentively to listen to the declara- tion made by the apostle, in the words of my te.vt. They stand in connexion with the last verses of the preceding chapter. St. Paul had advanced, not only that God bestows on every believer, the same privileges in substance, which he had vouchsafed to saints of the first order, but that he actually works in them the same wonders which he operated in Jesus Christ when he restored to him that life which he had laid down for the salvation of mankind, and when, amidst the acclamations of Die church triumphant, he received him into paradise. In the text, our ai)ostle expresses in detail, what he had before proposed in more general terms. He says, that as Jesus Christ, when dead, was restored to life, and raised from the tomb; in like manner we, who "were dead in tres])asses and sins," have been " quickened," and " raised up," together with him: and that as Jesus Christ, when raised up from the dead, was received into heaven, and " seated on his Father's right hand," in like manner we, after our sj)iritual resurrection, are admitted to a l)articipation of the same glory. Let us view these two texts in their connexion, in order to comprehend the full extent of the apostle's idea: God, as we read in the conclusion of the preceding chapter, the " God of our Lord Jesus C^hrisl, the Father of glory, has displayed what is the greatness of his power to us-ward who believe, according to the working of his mighty power; which he wrought in Christ, when he raised him from the dead, and set him at his own right hand in the heavenly places, .... and put all things under his feet." And in the words of the text, " God who is rich in mercy, for his great love wherewith he loved ns, even when we were dead in sins, hath quickened us together with Christ (by grace ye are saved,) and hath raised us up together, and made us sit together in heavenly places in Christ Jesus," Eph. ii. 4 — 6. This proposition, I acknowledge, seems to present something hyperbolical, which it is not easy to reconcile to the strictness of truth: but the difficulties which prevent our comprehend- ing it, do not so much affect the understanding as the heart. It would be much more intelli- gil)Io, were the love of the creature less pre- dominaîit in us, and did it less encroach upon tiie feelings necessary to our perception of a trvith, which is ahnosl altogether a truth of feeling. We should accordingly, have been cautious how we ventured to treat such a sub- ject, at our ordinary seasons of devotion; but, on this day, we beJieve all things possible to your pious affections. We believe that there can be nothing too tender, nothing too highly superior to sense, on a solemnity,* when it is to be presumed, that, with the apostles, you are " looking steadfiustly towards heaven," af- ter an a.scending Saviour, that you are follow- ing him with heart and mind, and saying, " Draw us. Lord, we will run after thee." Before we enter farther into our subject, there are a few advices which we would beg leave to sugnrest, which may predispose you more clearly to comprehend it. \. Learn to distinguish the degrees of that '* Ascension Day. 182 THE BELIEVER EXALTED [Ser. LXXV. disposition of mind, which our apostle is de- scribing. He represents tlie Christian as a man on whose heart divine grace has made impres- sions so lively, tliat he is already " quickened," already " raised up," already " made to sit in heavenly places in Christ Jesus." This dispo- sition, in whatever it may consist, (which we shall endeavour presently to e.\])lain with greater precision,) this disposition admits of degrees; I mean to say, that it is possible to be a Cliristian not only in name, and by profes- sion, but a Christian in trutli and reality, with- out having as yet attained it in the most emi- nent degree. It was necessary to make this observation, by way of prevention of a mental malady, as commonly to be met with in these provinces as any where else. Certain circumstances peculiar to your- eelves, have constrained your preachers fre- quently to inculcate the doctrine of the eth- cacy of divine grace, and of the sentiment which it impresses on the heart. This doc- trine has sometimes been misunderstood. Some have considered certain rapturous emotions, excited in the souls of a few highly favoured Christians, by the power of the Holy Spirit, a8 the essential character of Christianity. It has been erroneously supposed, that to be destitute of these was to be abandoned of God. Hence have arisen those gloomy and desponding ideas which weak minds form re- specting their own state, especially at those seasons when the Lord's Supper is administer- ed. The books generally read, as a prepara- tion for participating in this solemn service, tell us, that it is at the table of the Lord, in a particular manner, the communicant experi- ences those communications of the fulness of joy, Ps. xvi. 11, "that joy unspeakable and full of glory," 1 Pet. i. 8. that "peace of God which pa&seth all understanding," Phil. iv. 7, that " white stone, and in the stone a new name written, which no man knoweth saving lie that receiveth it," Rev. ii. IT, that anticipated re- surrection, that heaven upon earth. What has been written on this subject is lia- ble to misconception on the part of tiie reader, as it may have been expressed with too much precision by tlie composers of such manuals of devotion. Hence it comes to pass, tliat real Christians, who, notwithstanding the inlperfec- tion which cleaves to their best services, have most sincerely devoted the remainder of life to God, are haunted with the apprehension of having communicated unworthily, because they are not conscious of having felt, at the Lord's table, all those effects of the presence of the Holy Spirit. To Christians of this description it is, that I address my first advice, that they distinguisli the degrees of that disposition of mind of which our apostle speaks in the text. A man may bo quickened, may be raised up, may be made to sit togctlier with Christ Jesus in hea- venly places, witlioiit having all tlic joy whicii results from this idessed state. The most in- fallible mark of our being made partakers in the exaltation of the Lord .Icsus, is our striving in good earnest, to fulfd the conditions under which that parti(Mpation is promised us. Let UE fortify ourselves in this disposition of mind, and wait patiently till it shall please God to smooth the difBcuIties which we encounter in this work, by the pleasure derived from a con- sciousness of having surmounted them in part, and by the assurance which we have of at length surmounting them altogether. 2. The second advice which I presume to suggest is this, be on your guard agaitist the love of the marvellous. It is far from being impossible that a man should confound the e^ fects of an imagination heated by its own vi- sionary workings, with those which the Holy Spirit produces in a soul of which he has taken entire possession. A person animated by the spirit of God, can easily distinguisli his state from that of an enthusiast: but the enthusiast cannot always distinguish his state from that of one animated by the Spirit of God. In ge- neral, the road of discussion is incomparably more sure and direct to reach the conscience, and to form a right judgment of it, than the road of feeling. I know that there are certain feelings superior to discussion. I know that the Holy Spirit sometimes diffuses his influence through the soul, in such abundance, with so much fervour, with so much activity, that it is not possible the persons thus highly favoured should be ignorant that they are the objects of his tenderest and most particular care. But in order to our being warranted to promise our- selves such communications, the practice of piety must have been carried farther, beyond all comparison, than is commonly the case with most of those who flatter themselves that they have been favoured with singular commu- nications of the Spirit. And, once more, the method of discussion is by much the surer, to arrive at a true judgment of the real disposi- tions of the conscience, than the test of feel- ing; in wliich the temperament, or the imagi- nation have frequently a larger share than real illumination. Weigh in the balance the proofs on which the ideas you have formed of yourselves are founded. Compare your thoughts, your words, your actions, with the august rules and deci- sions which God has laid down in his holy word. Regulate your hopes and your fears, according to the characters which you may have discovered in yourselves, after you have studied the subject in this maimer. So much for the second advice, which I thought it of importance to suggest. 3. Permit me to subjoin a third. Under pretence of guarding against the reveries of tlie enthusiast, and against the love of the mar- vellous, ])resume not to call in question certain extraordinary operations of the Holy Spirit, and neglect not the means of obtaining them. Dispute not with saints of a superior order what they know by experience to be real. Presume not to establish that measure of grace which you may have received, as the standard for de- termining that which God is pleased to grant to persons more devoted than you are to his service. Form not your judgment from the plt^asure which you may at present derive from religion, of that which you may hereufler en- joy, when religion shall have acquired a more powerful influence over your heart. Be not discouraged by the dryness and discomfort which you may now find in the practice of vir- tue; in time you will experience it to be a pe- Ser. LXXV.] TOGETHER WITH JESUS CHRIST. 183 rennial source of delight. This is my third advice. Having premised these necessary precau- tions, let us attempt to justify tiie idea which is here given us of liie Cliristian. Let us place in contrast, tlic condition in which he was, pre- vious to liis being converted to (Christianity, and tliat wiiicli he has attained in virtue of his having become a Cliristian. JJefore he em- braced the religion of Jesus Christ, lie was "dead in trespasses and sins." This is a hgu- rative expression, denoting, that sinners are as incapable of themselves, to shake otf the do- minion of sin, and the misery inseparable from it, as a dead person is to defend himself against corruption, and to restore his own life. Hut by becoming a Christian, the believer is, through the mercy of God, not only set free from the dominion of sin, but is put in possession of the highest recompense of reward that justice ever bestowed on the most perfect virtue which ever existed, namely, that of Jesus Clirist. If " never man spake like this man," John vii. 46, never man lived and acted like this man. Accordingly, never was there a man exalted to such a height of felicity and glory. Now to this very height of felicity and glory the grace of God exalts the Christian. How? In more ways than we are able to indicate, in the time now left us. I satisfy myself with pointing out three of these. The believer is " quickened, he is raised up, he is made to sit together in heavenly places in Christ Jesus." I. By the proofs which assure him of the ex- altation of Jesus Christ. • II. By the means supplied to satisfy him that he is fulfilling the conditions under which he may promise himself, that he shall become a partaker of that exaltation. III. By the foretaste which he now enjoys of it on the earth. I. By the proofs wliich assure him of the ex- altation of Jesus Christ. It is not necessary here to detail them in their full extent. This has been already done on former occasions.* We have shown you, that, in support of the truth of the resurrection of Jesus Christ (and the same reasonings apply, with nearly the same force, to all the particulars of his exalta- tion,) we have presumptions, proofs, demon- strations. But, as 1 have just said, it is not necessary here to make a miimte recapitula- tion. But I would wish to unfold under this head, the true causes which prevent those proofs, ir- resistible as they are, from producing, on the mind of the greater part of Christians, that lively impression which would justify the hy- perbolical language employed by our apostle, that Christians have a conviction as complete of the truth of the exaltation of Jesus Christ, as if they had been " quickened," as if they had been "raised up," as if they were "made to sit together in heavenly places in Christ Je- sus." The following are the principal causes of this sore evil. I. The proofs of the exaltation of Jesus Christ, do not produce impressions so lively as they ought, from the abuse of a distinction * Consult the Sermon on Christ's Reswrrection, of Mr. Robinion's selection. between mathemalical evidence, and moral evi- dence. A scruple in point of precision, hsM given rise to this distinction. We call that mathematical evidence, which is founded on the clear idea of a subject. I have a clear idea of two even numbers. This proposition, from the addition of two even numbers, there results an even immber, is founded upon an evidence which arises from the clear idea of that num- ber. That is called moral eindence, which is founded on testimony worthy of credit. I have, naturally, no idea of the city of Con- stantinople. 1 can decide the question of its existence, only upon testimony of a certain kind. This distinction is undoubtedly a real one. But it is making a strange abuse of it to pretend, that what is founded on the evidence denominated moral is not so certain as that which is founded on what is denominated ma- thematical evidence. Two reasons persuade me of this, which I submit to your consideration. 1. It involves no less contradiction, that a complex concurrence of circumstances should unite with respect to a false testimony, than that there should be falsehood in a consequence deduced immediately from the nature of a sub- ject. It involves no less contradiction to affirm, that all the witnesses, who assure me there is a city called Constantinople, have agreed to im- pose upon me, that it involves a contradiction to allege, that this proposition is illusory, from the addition of two even numbers there results an even number. 2. The second reason is still more forcible. It is taken from the nature of God himself. We have mathematical evidence for this, that God cannot take pleasure in leading men into error. But God would take pleasure in lead- ing men into error, if after having made the truth of their religion to rest on the existence of certain facts, which are susceptible only of proofs of fact, he had bestowed on imaginary facts, the same characters of truth which he has impressed on such as are real. The truth of our religion is founded on these facts: Jesus Christ is risen, and has ascended into heaven: but this exaltation is supported by all tlie evi- dence of which facts are susceptible. If the exaltation of Jesus Christ is merely imaginary, God has permitted imaginary facts to assume all the evidence of real facts. God, therefore, betrays him into error. But we have mathe- matical evidence that it is impossible for God to betray men into error. It is clear, therefore, as I think, that moral evidence, when carried to a certain degree, ought to be ranked in the same class with mathematical evidence. The truth of tlie resurrection of tlie Lord Jesus, therefore, will not produce the lively impres- sions which we have mentioned, so long as men abuse, which is the case with certain philosophers, the distinction between moral evidence, and mathematical evidence. 2. The proofs of the exaltation of Jesus Christ produce not impressions so lively as they ought, because the mind is imder the in- fluence of a prejudice, unworthy of a real phi- losopher, namely, that moral evidence changes its nature, according to the nature of the things to which it is applied. What is demonstration of a fact, which is in the sphere of natural thingSj seems to cease to be such respecting 184 THE BELIEVER EXALTED, &c. [Ser. LXXV. facte of a supernatural kind. A certain epe- cies of proof will bo sutficieut to dcinoiislrate Uiat Cesar existed: and that same species of proof siiall be deemed insutiicicnt to ascertain that Moses existed. What a Blranwe disposi- tion of mind! The truth of a fact, which does not in itself imply a contradiction, depends not on the nature of that fact, but on the proofs by which it is supported. 1 am ready to admit, that stronger proof will be expected, in order to produce belief of extraordinary events, than is necessary to esta- blish the truth of what happens every day; to produce belief, for instance, that a great scho- lar is humble, calls for stronger proof than that he is vain; to produce belief, that a friend is as faithful in adversity as he was in prosperity, than that he is less so. But what is evidence with respect to ordinary facts, is likewise so with respect to such as are extraordinary. What is evidence witii respect to natural things, is likewise so with respect to such as are supernatural. Nothing more unreasona- ble can be conceived tlian the disposition ex- pressed by the apostle Thomas. All the mem- bers of the apostolic college, unanimously as- sure him that Jesus Christ is risen from the dead. They adduce this proof of it, that they had beheld him with tiieir own eyes. No, says he, "except I see in his hands the print of the nails, and put my fingers into the print of the nails, and thrust my hand into his side, I will not believe," John xx. :;i5. Wherefore does that which would have been evidence to him on another occasion, cease to be so on this? It is because the matter in question is something supernatural. But the question is not, whether the resurrection of Jesus Christ be within the sphere of natural things, but whether it is founded on proofs sufficient to constitute satisfying evidence. 3. The proofs of the exaltation of the Lord Jesus produce not impressions sufficiently live- ly, because the necessary discrimination has not been employed in the selection of tlioso proofs, on which some have pretended to establish it. This remark has a reference to certain of tlie learned, who imagined that they were render- ing essential service to the church, when they multiplied proofs, with an indiscreet zeal, and produced every thing which they deemed fa- vourable to the Christian religion. Fraud, fair dealing, all, all appeared equal in their eyes, provided it would contribute to this end. Wretched method! Why was it not confined to the propagators of falsehood; and why has ' it been so frequently adopted by the partisans of truth! I pretend not to determine whether there bo much solidity in the idea of some wiio have alleged, that the reason why Jesus Christ so strictly prohibited the demons to publish that he was the Messiah, was an apprehension that a testimony borne to his mission by lying spirits, migiit render the truth of it suspected. But 1 am well assured that if any thing could have excited a suspicion in my mind unfa- vourable to the exaltation of tiie Son of God, it would have boon tliat medley of proofs, solid and without foundation, which we find in the writings of certain ancient doctors of the church on this subject. No one will ever at- | tain to a. complcto conviction of the exaltation I of Jesus Christ, so long as he neglects to dis- criminate the j)roofs on which the truth of it rests. The discovery of the slightest falsehood in those which wo had believed to be true, will go far towards invalidating the proof of those which wo had good reason to believe founded in truth. 4. The proofs of the exaltation of Jesus Christ produce not impressions sufficiently lively, because we are too deeply affected by our inability to resolve certain questions, which the enemies of religion are accustomed to put, on some circumstances relative to that event. The evangelists have recorded all those which are necessary to convince us of the truth of the resurrection of Jesus Christ. Their silence respecting circumstances of another kind, and our inability to satisfy the demands of those who insist upon them, present nothing to ex- cite suspicion against the fidelity of their nar- ration. They do not tell us, for example, wiml Jesus Christ did immediately after hrs resur- rection, and before his appearing to the devout women, and to the apostles. They do not tell us what he did during the forty days which he passed upon the earth before his ascension. They do not tell us to whom those dead per- sons appeared, who came into the holy city to attest his resurrection, nor what became of them after their apparition. The Holy Spirit, perhaps, was not pleased to reveal such things to those inspired men. Perhaps they did not think proper to declare them, though they might have had perfect information on the sub- ject. But is there any thing in this, to invali- date the proofs on which the truth of the re- surrection of Jesus Christ is founded.' Is there any one ancient history, I say any one without exception, tiiat goes into a certain detail of cir- cumstances.' Are we acquainted with all the circumstances of the life of Alexander, or of Darius? Does our ignorance respecting such and such particulars suggest a doubt whether those persons ever existed? Do we know all the circumstances attending the battle of Can- nae, and that of Pharsalia. Does our igno- rance of these suggest a doubt whether such battles were actually fought? Is it fair to pre- scribe to tlie sacred authors rules which we readily dispense with in the case of profane authors? 5. The proofs of the exaltation of Jesus Christ produce not impressions suflSciently lively, because we suffer ourselves to be inti- midated more than we ought, by the compari- son instituted between them and certain popu- lar rumours, which have no better support than the caprice of the persons who propagate them. Unbelievers tell us that the multitude is credulous, that it is ever disposed to be prac- tised upon by impostures, from the idea of the marvellous. They accumulate all those noted instances of credulity which ancient and mo- dern history abundanily supply, for it costa very little trouble indeed, to make the collec- tion ample. They avail themselves of those instances to invalidate the argument which we adduce from the unanimity of that testimony which evinces the truth of the resurrection of Jesus Christ. But let them show us, among what they call " popular rumours," let them show us among these any thing of the same Ser. lxxv.] the christian a partaker in, &c. kind with those which wo have produced: and tlien we sliall feel ourselves called upon to de- fend, in another way, the doctrine in (piestion. But under the pretext that mankind is cre- dulous, obstinately to resist tlie force of proofs which have been admitted by judges the most rigid and acute, is wilfully to sliut the eyes against the truth. 6. Finally, the proofs of the truth of the ex- altation of our blessed Lord and Haviour, pro- duce not impressions sufficiently lively, because they are not sufhciently known. The preced- ing particulars chiefly relate to the learned, and the philosophic part of mankind, of whom the number, undoubtedly, is on comparison very inconsiderable. This relates to tiie mul- titude, of which the far greater part of our audiences is composed. I am well aware that those proofs have been carried farther in the present age, than ever iiad been done, perhaps, since the days of the apostles. I have oftener than once, adored the conduct of divine Pro- vidence, in that the objections of unbelievers, of which it may likewise bo affirmed, tliat they have been carried farther in the present age, than they had been since the times of the ear- liest antagonists of the Christian religion: I have oftener than once, I say, adored the con- duct of divine Providence, in that those objec- tions have furnished occasion to scrutinize the proofs of the facts, on which the truth of Chris- tianity rests. In proportion as events are more remote, the more difficult it becomes to ascertain them. If the spirit of superstition and blind credulity had continued to be the reigning folly of man- kind, men would have neglected to study the proofs of the facts of which I have been speak- ing, and we should have had in later ages, much greater trouble in demonstrating the truth of them. But infidelity is the reigning folly of the age in which we live, and has, as it were, succeeded the spirit of superstition and blind credulity, the reigning folly of ages past. Now Providence has so ordered the course of things, that this very infidelity should prove the occasion of placing, in their clearest point of light, those illustrious proofs which we have of the facts, whereon the Christian religion is founded. But though they have been stated with so much clearness and precision, it is un- doubtedly certain that they are not hitherto sufficiently known by the generality of pro- fessing Christians. Would you be thoroughly convinced of the exaltation of the Saviour of mankind, devote to the study, which I am recommending, a part, I do not say only of that time which you so liberally bestow on the world and its plea- sures, but a part of even that which you have thrown away upon useless controversies, on the speculative questions, and the bold researches, with which most books, on the subject of reli- gion, are filled. Let the mind be deeply im- pressed with that series of presumptions, of arguments, of demonstrations, of which the resurrection, and the other particulars of the exaltation of the Son of God are susceptible. Do all diligence to discern the whole evidence of those facts, witliout wliich, to use the apos- tle's e.\pression, " your faith is vain, and oiu: preaching also is vain," 1 Cor. .\v. 14. Then Vol. 11.— 24 185 you will perceive, that the truth of the exalta- tion of the Saviour is founded upon proofs, which it is impossible for any reasonable man to resist. You will be, in some measure, as much convinced that he is raised up from the dead, and ascended into heaven, as if you had seen him with your own eyes bursting asunder the bars of the grave, and assuming his seat at the right hand of the P^ather: you will be in this first sense, " quickened together with C'hrist, and raised up, and made to sit together in heavenly places with him." SERMON LXXV. THE CHRISTIAN A PARTAKER IN THE EXALTATION OF JESUS CHRIST. PART II. Ephesians ii. 4 — 6. God viho is rich in mercy, for his great love where- with lie loved us, even when we were dead in sins, hath quickened us together with Christ (by grace ye are saved,) aiul hath raised us up together, and made t« sit together in heavenly places in Christ Jesus. Having given a few preliminary advices relative to my subject, I went on to justify the accuracy of the apostle's idea, by showing, that the Christian is " quickened, raised up, seated in heavenly places, togetiier with Christ." I. By the reasons which persuade him of the certainty of the exaltation of Jesus Christ. I now proceed to justify St. Paul's idea by showing, II. The Christian's participation in the glory of Jesus Christ, by the means with which he is furnished of knowing himself, and of attaining assurance that he is fulfilling the conditions under which he is enabled to pro- mise himself an interest in that exaltation. I do not mean to insinuate, that this knowledge is of easy attainment. I maintain, on the con- trary, that it is one of the most difficult which can be proposed to man. And without enter- ing here into a detail of the reasons which evince the difficulty of it, it is sufficient for me to adduce a single one; it is the smallness of the number of those who know themselves. The judgments which men form of their own character, is an ine.xhaustible source of ridi- cule. The world is crowded with people to- tally blind, especially where they themselves are concerned. What illusions do they practise upon them- selves, with respect to the body! How many are there whom Nature has sadly degraded in point of person: forms which you would say were only blocked out, and of which, if I may use the expression, God seems to have erected only the first scaffiDldings, conceive of them- selves ideas directly opposite to tJie truth. Talk of the corporeal qualities of such and such persons, and they will be among the first to make them an object of derision, and dis- cover this to be too slim, that to be too gross; falling foul of the whole human race, and showing tenderness to no one but themselves. If we are thus subject to blindness, where 186 THE CHRISTIAN A PARTAKER IN [Ser. LXXV. things sensible, palpable, are concerned, how muen greater must be tiie danjrer, where mat- ters of a very different complexion address tliemselves to our self love. We practise illusion upon ourselves, on the score of our undcrstaiuiiiig. How many ig- norant, dull, stu|)id people betray a conceit that they are intelligent philosophers, profound politicians; that they possess a judgment ac- curate, enlightened, uncommon; and are so powerfully prepossessed with the belief of this, that the combined universe could not drive them out of it. Hence it comes to pass, that they are for ever taking the lead in society, exacting attention, courting admiration, pro- nouncing, deciding peremptorily, and seeming to say at every turn, am not I a most extraor- dinary personage.'' But you have never had the advantage of a course of education, or of regular study. No matter; talents supply every deficiency. But no one presents incense to you, yourself only excepted. Still it signifies nothing: it is the wretched taste of the present zige. But you are actually a laughing-stock to mankind. No matter still: it has always been the lot of great men to be the object of envy and calumny. We practise illusion upon ourselves in fa- vour of our heart. Should you chance to be in a circle of slanderers, and bear your testi- mony against slander, the whole company will instantly take your side. The most criminal will endeavour to pass for the most innocent. They will tell you that it is the most odious, abominable, execrable of vices. They will tell you that the severest punisluncnts ought to be adjudged against the ofiender, that he ought to be excluded from all human society. And the very persons who are themselves ac- tuated by tliis detestable passion, who are themselves diftusing the baleful poison of their malignity, apprehend not that they are, in tlie slightest degree, chargeable with such a vice. Have you no knowledge, my brethren, of such a portrait' Have I been depicting to you manners which have no existence in real life? If there be any among you incapable of dis- covering himself under such similitudes as these, it is a demonstration of what I wished to prove, that it is a very difficult thing for a man to Ijnow himself. But though this knowledge be extremely difficult, it is by no means impossible of attain- ment. The believer employs two methods, principally to arrive at it. 1. He studies his own heart. 2. He shrinks not from the in- spection of the eyes of another. 1. First, the believer studies his own heart. Let it not appear matter of astonishment that the generality of mankind are so little ac- quainted with themselves. They arc almost always from home; external objects engross all the powers of their mind; they never dive to the bottom of their own conscience. Docs it deserve the name of searching the heart, if a man employs a rapid and su[ierficial self-ex- amination, by reading a few books of prepara- tion, on the eve of a communion solemnity: if he devote a few moments attention to the maxims of a preacher, much more with a de- sign to apply them to others, than to make them a test of his own conduct' How is it possible, by means of an examination so cur- sory, to attain a knowledge which costs the most eminent saints so much application.' A real Christian studies himself in a very different maimer. With the torch of the gos- pel in his hand, he searches into the most se- cret recesses of conscience. He traces his ac- tions up to their real principles. When he has performed an act of virtue, he scrupulously examines whether he had been actuated by some merely human respect, or whether it pro- ceeded from a sacred regard to the law of God. When he unhap|>ily is overtaken, and falls into sin, he carefully examines whether he was be- trayed into it by surprise, or whether, by the prevalence of corru|)tion in his heart, and from the love of the world still exercising dominion over him. When he abstains from certain vices, he examines whether it proceeded from real self-government, or merely from want of means and ojjportunity; and he asks himself this question, what would I have done, had I been placed in such and such circumstances? Would I have preserved my innocence, with Joseph, or lost it, as David did? Would I, with Peter, have denied Jesus Christ, or have endured martyrdom in his cause, like Stephen? 2. The second method which the believer em- ploys to arrive at the knowledge of his own heart, is to permit others to unveil it to his eyes: this is done particularly, either by the public instructions of the faithful ministers of the gospel, or by the private admonitions of a judicious and sincere friend: two articles very much calculated to explain to us the reasons why most men attain such an imperfect know- ledge of themselves. It is with difficulty we can digest those ad- dresses from the pulpit, in which the preacher ventures to go into certain details, without which it is impossible for us to acquire self- knowledge. We are fond of dwelling on ge- nerals. Our own portrait excites disgust, when the resemblance is too exact. It is a circumstance well worthy of being remarked, that what we admire the most in the sermons of the dead, is the very thing which gives most offence in the sermons of the living. When we read, in discourses pronounced several ages ago, those bold strictures in which the preach- ers unmasked the hypocrites of their times, re- proved the vices of the great as freely as those of the little, attacked adultery, extortion, a ty- rannical spirit, in the very presence of the of- fenders, we are ready to exclaim, What zeal! What courage! What firmness! But when a preaclier of our own days presumes to form himself after such excellent models; when he would co])y the example of Elijah, who said to Ahab, " I have not troubled Israel; but thou and thy father's house," 1 Kings xviii. 18, when he would follow the example of Nathan, who said to David, " Thou art the man," 2 Sam. xii. 1, or that of John Baptist, who said to Herod, " It is not lawful for thee to have thy brother's wife," Mark vi. 18, then the cry is, What audacity! What presumption! It would bo improper, my brethren, to extend any farther my remarks on this subject at present; but 1 may be permitted, at least, to borrow the words of Jesus Christ, addressed to hifl disciples; " I have yet many things to say Ser. LXXV.] THE EXALTATION OF JESUS CHRIST. 187 unto you, but ye cannot bear them now," John vi. 12. If wo arc unable to digest j)ul»Iic discourses of tlie description which wo liavo been giving, mucit less are wo disposed to bear with tlie private admonitions of a judicious and sincere friend, vvlio is so faithful as to unveil to us our own heart. What a treasure is a friend, who keeps constantly in view, I do not say our ho- nour only, our reputation, but more especially our duty, our conscience, our salvation! What a treasure is a man, who employs the influence which he may have over us, only for the pur- pose of undeceiving us when we are in an er- ror; of bringing us back when wo have gone astray; of assisting us to unravel and detect the pretences which the deceitfulness of the human heart uses to justify to itself its wan- derings and weaknesses! What a treasure is a man, who has the honesty to say to us, accord- ing as circumstances may reciuirc: " Here it was your want of experience that misled you; there, it was the prejudice of a faulty educa- tion: on that occasion you was betrayed, through the seduction of those flatterers, in whose society you take so much delight: xtn this, it was the too favourable opinion which you had formed of yourselves, which would persuade you, that you are ever sincere in your conversation; ever upright in your inten- tions; ever steady in your fellowships!" Nevertheless, we usually look upon this precious treasure not only with disdain, but even with horror. It is sufllcient to make us regard a man with an eye of suspicion, that he has discovered our weak side. It is sufficient for him to undertake to paint us in our true colours, to be perfectly odious to us. A real Christian employs all the means with which he is furnished, to unveil his own heart to him- Belf. By dint of study, he acquires the know- ledge of himself. Having acquired this im- portant knowledge, he seriously and resolutely sets about personal reformation; and he makes progress in it. Ho examines tiiis new state into which divine grace has introduced him; and finding within himself the ciiaracters of Christianity, he lays hold of its promises. He becomes assured of its being in the class of those to whom they are made. And what is it to possess such assurance? It is to have an anticipated possession of all the blessings which are the object of it. It is to be already quick- ened, already raised itp, already made to sit in heavenly places together irith Jesus Christ. III. Finally, the believer is quickened, he is railed up, he is made to sit together in heavenly places, by means of the foretastes which he en- joys of his participation in the e.xaltatioii of the Saviour of tiie world. Should any one accuse me, of myself running under this head, upon that rock of the marvellous, against wliich I cautioned my hearers, under a preceding branch of my discourse, I would request his attention to the following series of propositions, which I barely indicate in so many words. 1st Proposition. God possesses a sovereign empire over all perceptions of our souls; he is has united the compendious road of sensation to the more circuitoua one of reasoning, for tho jjreservation of our body. What is noxious to tiie body, makes itself known to us, not only by a process of reasoning, but by certain dis- agreeable sensations, which warn us to keep at a distance from it. Whatever contributes to its preservation, makes itself known by plea- surable sen.sations, and thereby engages ua to make use of it. 3d Projjosition. It by no means involves a contradiction, to say, that if it was the will of God, in the order of nature, that the compen- dious road of sensation should supply the more circuitous one of reasoning, he may sometimes be pleased to conform to the same economy, in the order of grace. 4th Proi)osition. Wo are assured not only by reason, that God may adopt this mode of proceeding, but Scripture and experience teach us, that he actually does so, in the c-ase of cer- tain Christians of a superior order. I compare those sensations of grace to the movements b}' which the prophets were ani- mated, and which permitted them not the power of doubting whether or not it was the effect of the presence of God in their souls; movements which produced conviction that God intended to make use of their ministry, and constrained them in many cases to act in contradicti;.n to their own inclinations. Never was mission more glorious than that of Jere- miah. Never was mission more difficult and more burdensome. He was called to open his mouth in maledictions, levelled against his fel- low-citizens, and to be himself exposed as a butt to the execrations of that people. Over- whelmed under the pressure of a ministry so distressful, he exclaims, " Wo is me, my mo- ther, tiiat thou hast born me a man of strife, and a man of contention to the whole earth," chap. XV. 10. He does more. He forms the resolution of renouncing a ministry which has become the bitterness of his life: "The word of the Lord is made a reproach unto me, and a derision daily; then I said, I will not make mention of him, nor speak any more in his name," chap. xx. 8, 9. But God lays hold of him, by invisible bonds, and which he finds it impossible to shake off': " the word of the Lord is made a reproach unto me, and a derision daily; then I said, I will not make mention of him, nor speak any more in his name: but his word was in mine heart, as a burning fire shut up in my bones, and I was weary with for- bearing, and I could not stay," ver. 9. " O Lord, thou hast deceived" (enticed) " me, and I was deceived," (enticed:) " thou art stronger than I, and hast prevailed," ver. 7. I am persuaded that many among you have experienced in your vocation, something simi- lar to what the prophet experienced in his. I am persuaded that many of you have been at- tracted by those irresistible bands, and have felt that sacred flame kindle in your soul, which the Holy Spirit comnnmicates to the regenerated, and which puts these words into tlie mouths of the disciples, who were travel- able to excite in them such as he pleases, either i ling to Emmaus, " Did not our heart bum with the concurrence of external objects, or ■ within us, while he talked with us by the way, without that concurrence. i and while he opened to us the Scriptures" 2d Proposition. In the order of nature, God I Luke ixiv. 32. 188 THE CHRISTIAN A PARTAKER IN [Ser. LXXV. Now, if you call upon me to go into a more particular detail on lliis subject, I will say to you, lliat however mysterious tliis operation ol" the irrace of God may be; wliatcver difficulty may appear in exactly ascertaining the time of its communication, it is imparted to believers, in five situations cliiefly. 1. VN'hen shutting the door of his closet, and excluding the world from his heart, the Christian enjoys commu- nion with Deity. 2. When Providence calls him to undergo some severe trial. 3. When he has been enabled to make some noble and generous sacrifice. 4. Wlien celebrating the sacred mysteries of redeeming love. 5. Finally, in the hour of conflict vviLli the king of terrors. 1. When shutting the door of his closet, and excluding the world from his heart, lie is ad- mitted to communion and fellowship with Deity, in retirement and silence. Tliere it is that a commerce is instituted, the charms of which I should to no purpose undertake to display, unless they were known to you by ex- perience. There it is that tiie believer com- pensates to himself the time of which he has been constrained to defraud his God; and there it is, that God compensates to the believer, the delights of which the commerce of the world has deprived him. There it is that the believer pours out into the bosom of his Father and his God, tlie sorrow excited by the recol- lection of his offences, and that he sheds the tears of a repentance which love has enkindled, and expresses in terms such as these: " My God, I know that love is thy predomi- nant character, and that it cannot be thy will I should perish: but I am ashamed of my own weakness; 1 am ashamed of the little progress I have made in religion, since the time thou hast been pleased to grant me a revelation of it. I am ashamed to reflect that such an ac- cumulation of benefits as tliou hast conferred upon me, should have still produced so slight an impression upon my heart." And there it is that God wipes the tear from the believer's eye, and heals up the wounds of the penitent, saying unto him, " 1, even I, am he that blotteth out thy transgressions, for mine own sake, and will not remember thy sins," Isa. xliii. 25. There it is that the be- liever avails himself of the tender access which God condescends to grant to those precious moments, and that conversing with him, " as a man speaketli unto his friend," Ex. xxxiii. 11, he asks him to bestow communications more endearing, more intimate: " I>ord, 1 beseech thee to show me thy glory," ver. 8. " Lord, scatter tliat darkness wind» still veils thy per- fections from my view; Lord, dispel tho.sc clouds which still intervene between me and the liglit of tliy cuuntenaiice." There it is that God lakes pleasure to gratify desires so nobly directed: " Poor mortals, how unrefined, iiow debased is your taste! I low mucii are you to be pitied, with that relisli for the meagre de- lights of tliis world!" Is there any one that can stand a comparison with that which tlie believer enjoys in such blessed intercourse as thi&> 2. When Providence calls him to encounter some severe trial. 1 speak not here of trials to which appetite prompts a man to expose himself, under the specious pretext of promis- ing himself the glory of a triumph, but in reali- ty from the fatal cliarm which betrays him into defeat. We liave no encouragement to expect divine su])port to resist and overcome tempta- tion, when we raslily throw ourselves in the way of it: " He tiiat loveth danger," says the Wise Man, " shall perish therein." I speak of those trials, whicli the believer is called to encounter, eitlier from some supernatural in- terpositions, or simply from the duty imposed by his Christian vocation. How often do they appear to him so rude, as to awaken despair of overcoming.' How often, when abandoned for a moment to his frailty, he says within him- self, " No, I shall never have the fortitude to bear up under that painful conflict: no, it will be impossible for me to survive the loss of that child, far dearer to me than life itself: no, I shall never be able to fulfil the duties of the station to wiiich Providence is calling me. How can I give my heart to what I hate, and tear it away from what I love?" Christian, be of good courage. See that thy resolution be upright and sincere, " to him that believeth all tilings are possible," Mark ix. 2a. There are resources of grace with which thou art yet unacquainted; but which thou shalt know by experience, if thou pray for them, and make it thy unremitting and sincere endeavour to walk worthy of such exalted ex- pectations. God himself will descend into tliy soul with rays of liglit, with fresh supplies of strength, with impressions so lively, of the pro- mised recompense of reward, that thou shalt not feel the pains of conflict, and be sensible only to the pleasure of victory; that thou shalt raise the shout of victory, whilst thou art yet in the hottest of the battle. 3. I said that those transporting foretastes are communicated to tlie believer, after he has been enabled to offer up some noble and gene- rous sacrifice. I can conceive no transports once to be compared with those which Abra- ham felt, on his descent from Mount Moriah. What conflicts must he have undergone from the awful moment that God demanded his Isaac! What a dreadful portion of time, I was going to say, what an eternity was the tiiree days which passed between his departure from his habitation, and his arrival at tiie place where this tremendous sacrifice was to be of- fered up! What emotions must that question of Isaac have excited in a father's bosom; " be- hold the fire and the wood, but where is tiie lamb for a burnt-oftering?" Gen. xxii. 7. Abraham conies off victorious in all these com- bats; Abraham binds his son with cords; lie stretches him out on tiie wooden pile; he lif\s up his hand to pierce the bosom of this inno- cent victim. God arrests his upiitTcd arm. -'\braham lias done his duty: he carries back his son with him; what a transport of deliglit! liut this is not all. Will Ciod be outdone in generosity by Abraham? He crowns the obe- dience of his servant: he accumulates uj)on him new marks of favour; he promises iiini- self to immolate his own Son for the m:in wiio could summon up the resolution to devote liis son at God's couunand. This is, according to St. Paul, the sense of tiiose mysterious words; " by myself iiave 1 sworn, saith the Lord, for because thou hast done this thing, and hast % Ser. LXXV.] THE EXALTATION OF JESUS CHRIST. 189 not withheld thy son, thine only son; that in blessing I will bless thee, and in multiplying I will multiply thy. seed, as the stars of the heaven, and as the sand which is upon the sea shore; .... and in thy seed shall all the nations of the earth be blessed," Gen. xxii. IG — 18; Gal. iii. 8. Christians, true posterity of the fatherof believers, you have a reward sin)i- lar to his. 4. While he is partaking in the sacred mys- teries of redeeming love, likewise, the believer feels himself quickened, raised up, seated, to- gether with Jesus Christ." I cannot refrain, however, from here deploring the superstition of certain Christians, which mingles with this part of our religious worship, and from repeat- ing one of the advices which I suggested at the opening of this discourse. Make not the suc- cess of your communion to depend on certain emotions, in which mechanism has much more to do than piety has. It but too frer|iicntly happens, that a man shall apprehend lie has communicated worthily, or unworthily, in pro- portion as he has carried to a less or greater degree the art of moving the senses, and of heating the imagination, while he partakes of the Lord's Supper. The touchstone by which we ought to judge whether we brought to the Lord's table the dispositions which he requires, is the sincerity with which we have renewed our baptismal engagements, and the exertions which we shall afterward make punctually to fulfil them. It is true, nevertheless, that a participation of the sacrament of the supper is one of the situations in which a believer most frequently experiences those gracious operations of which our apostle is speaking in the text. A soul, whose undivided attention the Holy Spirit fixes on the mystery of the cross; and on whom he is pleased to impress, in a lively manner, the great events which the symbolical rcj)resenta- tion in the Eucharist retraces on the heart; a soul, which, through grace, loses itself in the abyss of that love which God has manifested towards us in Jesus Christ; a soul which has learned to infer, from what God has already done, what is still farther to be expected from him; a soul, which feels, and, if I may use the expression, which relishes the conclusiveness of this reasoning, " He that spared not his own Son, but delivered him up for us all, how shall he not, with him, also, freely give us all things?" Rom. viii. 32. Is not a soul in such a state, already " quickened, already raised up, already seated in heavenly places, together with Christ Jesus?" 5. But it is particularly when the believer is grappling with the king of terrors, that he ex- ])eriences those communications of divine grace, which transport him into another world, and which verify, in the most sublime of all senses, the idea which the apostle conveys to us of it, in the words of the text. Witness that pa- tience and submission under sutTerings the most acute, and that entire acquiescence in the sovereign will of God: " I was dumb, I opened not my mouth; because thou didst it," Ps. xxxix. 9. Witness that supernatural detach- ment from tlie world, which enables him to resign, without murmuring, and without re- serve, all that he was most tenderly united to: " henceforth know 1 no man after the flesh," 2 Cor. V. 16. 1 have no connexion, now, save with that "Jesus, of whom the whole family in heaven and earth is named," Eph. iii. 15. Witness that immoveable hope, in the midst of universal desertion; " though he slay me, yet will 1 trust in him," Job xiii. l.^i, "yea, though I walk through the valley of the sha- dow of death, I will fear no evil; for thou art with me, thy rod and thy staff they comfort me," Ps. xxiii. 4. Witness that faith which pierces through the clouds, which the devil, and linll, and the world spread around his bed of languishing: " I know that my Redeemer liveti), and tliat he shall stand at the latter day upon the earth: and though after my skin worms destroy this body, yet in my flesh shall 1 see God; whom I shall see for myself, and mine eyes shall behold, and not another," Job xix. 25 — 27. Witness that holy impatience with which he looks forward to the moment of his dismission: " I have waited for thy sal- vation, O God," Gen. xlix. 18. " Come, Lord Jesus, come quickly," Rev. xxii. 20. Witness those songs of triumph, amidst the very sharp- est of tlie conflict: " Thanks be unto God, which always causeth us to triumph in Christ," 2 Cor. ii. 14. " Blessed be the Lord, my strength, v.'hich teacheth my hands to war, and my fingers to fight," Ps. cxliv. 1. Witness, once more, those tender, those in- structive, those edifying conversations which take place between the dying Christian and his pastor. The pastor addresses to the dyino- person these words on the part of God: " Seek my face;" and tlie dying believer replies, " Thy face, Lord, will I seek," Ps. xxvii. 8. The pastor says, " Behold, what manner of love the Father hath bestowed upon thee," 1 John iii. 1, and the dying person replies; "the love of God is shed abroad in my heart, by the Holy Ghost which is given unto me," Rom. v. 5. The pastor says, " Seek those things which are above, where Christ sitteth on the right hand of God:" the dying person replies, " 1 have a desire to depart and to be with Christ," Phil. i. 23. "My soul thirsteth for God, for the living God: when shall I come and appear before God?" Ps. xlii. 2. The pastor says, " Run with patience the race that is set before thee, looking unto Jesus, the author and finisher of tli^"^ faith," Heb. xii. 1, 2. Tlie dying be- liever replies, " I have fought a good fiijht, I have finished my course, I have kept the faith. Henceforth there is laid up for me a crown I against that day," 2 Tim. i. 12. "I know j whom I have believed, and I am persuaded I that he is able to keep that which I have com- mitted unto iiim against that day," 2 Tim. iv. 1, 8. " Behold, I see the heavens opened, and the Son of man standing on the right hand of God," Acts vii. 56. Such are the wonders which the grace of I God displays, in favour of those who are in I earnest to obtain it, and give themselves up to its direction. And such are the tre:isures, un- happy worldlings, which you are sacrificing to , a transient world, and its lying vanities. Such I is the felicity which you experience, which j you have already experienced in part, happy, happy Christians, whose condition is so far pre- ! ferable to that of all the rest of mankind. 190 FOR A COMMUNION SABBATH. [Ser. LXXVL What now remains for nic to do, after hav- ing employed my feeble étroits to draw you to God, by attractions so j)owerful: what re- mains, but to address my most fervent prayers to iiiin, and to entreat that lie would be pleased to make known those pure and exalted de- lights, to those who are, as yet, utter strangers to tiiem; and tiiat he may, powerfully confirm, even unto the end, those to whom he has al- ready graciously communicated them. With this we shall conclude the solemn business of a day of sacred rest. We are going;, once more, to lift up to heaven, in your behalf, hands pu- rified in the blood of the Redeemer of man- kind. Come, my beloved brethren, support these hands, should they wax heavy: perform for us the service which Aaron and Hur ren- dered to Moses, as we are attempting to render the service of a Moses unto you. Assist us in moving the bowels of the God of mercy. — And graciously vouchsafe, blessed Jesus, who, on the memorable day, of which we are now celebrating the anniversary, wert " made higher than the heavens; set on the riglit hand of the throne of the Majesty in the heavens;" and who presentest unto God, in " a golden censer, the prayers of all saints:" vouchsafe, blessed Jesus, to give energy to those which we are about to put up, and to support them by thy all-powerful intercession. Amen. SERMON LXXVL FOR A COMMUNION SABBATH. PART I. Malachi i. 6, 7. Jl son honmireth his father, and a servant his mas- ter: if then I be a father, where is mine ho- nour? and if I be a master, tchere is mij fear? sailh the Lord of Hosts unto you, priests, that despise my name. Jlnd ye say, Wherein have we despised thy name? Ye offer polluted bread upon mine altar; and ye say, Wherein have we polluted thee? In that ye say. The ta- ble of the Lord is contemptible- Though the spectacle, which the solemnity of this day calls to our recollection, did not di- rectly interest ourselves, it would, nevertheless, be altogether worthy, separately considered, of detaining our eyes, and of fixing our atten- tion. Men have sometimes appeared, who, finding their last moments apj)roiiching, col- lected their family, summoned up tiieir remain- ing strength, expressed a wisli, in a rcjiast of love and benevolence, to take a last, a long farewell of the persons who were most dear to them, and to break asunder, by that concluding act of social attachment, all tlq remains of that human aflection which tied them down to the wosition, and the like. Scruples, by the way, which the pagans themselves, and particularly the Egyptians en- tertained, respecting the victims which they offered to their gods. They set apart for them the choicest of the flock and of the herd. He- rodotus informs us,l that in Egypt, there. were persons specially appointed to tlie office of ex- amining the victims. Let us no longer deviate from the principal object of our text. If by " the table of the Lord," we are to understand, as it is presuma- ble we ought, the altar of burnt-offerings, " to * See Bocliart Hicroz, l'art I. Book II. chap. 46. p.52i. t In Euterpe, cap. xxiviii. p, 104, Edit. Francof. Ser. LXXVI.] FOR A COMMUNION SABBATH. 193 offer unto God polluted bread," in the style of Malanlii, to say, " the table of the Lord is con- temptible," is to violate some of the rites pre- scribed, respecting the oflerings which were presented unto God upon that altar. More es- pecially, it is to consecrate to Deity, victims which had some of the blemishes that rendered them unworthy of his acceptance. But was it indeed, then, altogether worthy of God to enter into details so minute? Hut of what importance could it be to the liord of the universe, whether the victims presented to him were fat or lean, and whether the bread conse- crated to him were of wheat or of barley, of fine or of coarse Hour? And though the Jews were subjected to minuteness of this kind, what interest can we have in them, we who live in ages more enlightened; we who are called to serve God only " in spirit and in truth," John iv. 24, and to render him none but a "reason- able service," Rom. xii. 1. We shall devote the remainder of the time, at present permitted to us, to the elucidation of these questions; we shall endeavour to unfold the great aim and object of our text, and apply it more particu- larly to the use of our hearers. For this pur- pose it will be necessary to institute a twofold parallel. I. We shall institute a parallel between the altar of burnt-otferings, or the table of the show-bread, and the table of the Eucharist: and shall endeavour to unfold the mystical views of both the one and the other. II. The second parallel shall be, between the profanation of the altar, or the table of the show-bread, and the profanation of the Chris- tian sacramental table: we shall indicate what is implied, with respect to the Jews, and with respect to Christians, in offering to God " pol- luted bread," and in looking on " the table of the Lord as contemptible;" and we will endea- vour to make you sensible of the keenness of the reproach conveyed by the mouth of tlie prophet: " A son honoureth his father, and a servant his master: if then I be a father, where is mine honour? and if I be a master, where is my fear? saith the Lord of hosts unto you, O priests, that despise my name. And ye say, wherein have we despised thy name? Ye ofier polluted bread upon mine altar; and ye say, wherein have we polluted thee? In that ye say, the table of the Lord is contemptible." SERMON LXXVI. FOR A COMMUNION SABBATH. PART II. Malachi i. 6, 7. .4 son honoureth his father, and a servant his mas- ter: if then I be a father, where is mine Iwnour? and if I be a master, where is my fear? saith tlie Lord of hosts unto you, priests, that despise my nanu. And ye say, Wherein have we de- spised thy name? Ye offer polluted bread upon mine altar; and ye say, Wherein have we pol- luted thee? In that ye say, The table of the Lord is contemptible. Having endeavoured to remove the difficul- ties in which the text may seem to be involved, Vol. II.— 25 and shown what wc are to understand by " pol- luted bread," by " the table of the Lord," and by calling " the table of the Lord contempti- ble," we proceed to institute the twofold paral- lel proposed. 1. Let us state a parallel between the altar of burnt-offerings, the table of the show-bread, and the sacramental table of the Lord's Sup- per; the offerings which were presented to God on the first, and those which we still present to him on the second. The sacramental table of the supper, as the altar of burnt-offerings, and as the table of the show-bread, is " the table of the Lord." The viands, presented on both the one and the other, are, " the meat of God," or ■' the bread of God." And those sacred ceremonies, however they may differ as to cer- tain circumstances, have been, nevertheless, destined to the same end, and represent the same mysteries: namely, the intimate union which God wishes to maintain with his church and people. You will be convinced that this was the des- tination of the altar of burnt-offerings, and of the table of the show-bread, if you have formed a just idea of the temple, and of the tabernacle. The tabernacle was considered to be the tent of God, as the Leader and Commander of Is- rael, and the temple was considered as his pa- lace. Fo*- this reason it is, that when God gave commandment to construct the taberna- cle, he said to Moses, " Let them make me a sanctuary; that I may dwell amongst them," Exod. xxi. 8. And when Solomon substituted the temple in room of the tabernacle, he was desirous of conveying the same idea of it: " I have surely built thee a house to dwell in, a settled place for thee to abide in for ever." The following are the words of a very sensible Rabbi on this subject:* " God, to whom be all glory inscribed, gave commandment to build for him a house, similar to the palaces of the kings of the earth. All these things are to be found in tlie palaces of kings; they are sur- rounded by guards; they have servants to pre- pare their victuals; musicians who sing to them, and play on instruments. There are likewise chambers of perfumes; a table on which their repasts are served uj); a closet into which fa- vourites only are admitted. It was the will of God, that all these things should be found in his house, that in notliing he miirlit yield to the potentates of the earth. And all these things are designed to make the people know, that our King, the Lord of hosts, is in the midst of us." This general idea of the tabernacle justifies that which we are going to give of the altar of burnt-offerings, and of the table of the show- bread. 1. That of the altar of burnt-offering: it was denominated " the table of the Lord," and the viands served upon it were denominated " the meat" or "the bread of Jehovah," because the end of the sacrifices there offered up by his command, was to intimate, that he maintained with his people an intercourse as familiar as that of two friends, who eat together at the same table. This is the most ancient, and the most usual idea of sacrifice. When alliances * Rabbi Schem Job Comment, in Mere Nevoch. Part HI. cap. iliv. fol. 171. Veuet. 5211. 194 FOR A COMMUNION SABBATH. [Ser. LXXVI. were contracted, victims were immolated: and the contracting parties made a common repast on their Hesh, to express the intimate miion which they formed with each otlier. This was tlic reason of ail tlie rites which were served between God and the people of Israel, in the alliance formed previous to the promulgation of the law. They are recorded in the twenty-fourth chapter of the book of Exodus. Moses represented (îod; Aaron, Na- dab and Abihu his two sons, and the three- score and ten elders re|)resented the whole con- gregation of Israel. Altars were reared; sacri- fices were offered up; they feasted together on the flesh of the victims. It is expressly related that Aaron, Nadab, and Abihu, and those otlier venerable personages whom I have mentioned, went up into the mountain, " also they saw God, and did eat and drink," ver. 11. And to make it apparent that the divine presence in- tervened, the history adds, tliat God vouchsafed to bestow sensible tokens of his presence: " And they saw the God of Israel: and tliere v/as un- der his feet as it were a paved work of a sap- phire-stone, and as it were the body of heaven in his clearness," ver. 10. A work paved with stars, resembling a composition of sapphire- stones: a symbol wiiich, perhaps, God preferred to any other, because the sapphire was, among the Egyptians, the emblem of royalty, as may be seen in their hieroglyphics, which the indus- try of the learned have preserved to us. The pagans, likewise, had the same ideas of the sacrifices which they offered up. They did eat together the flesh of the victims, and this they called eating or feasting ivith the gods.* They sometimes carried off part of it to their houses; sometimes sent a portion of it to their friends; sometimes they partook of it in the temples themselves, in which tables were placed for the express purpose of celebrating festivals of this kind. Homer, in the Odyssey,f introduces Alcinous, speaking to this efliect: " The gods render themselves visible to us, when we immolate hecatombs to them; they eat with us, and place themselves by us at the same table." The same poet, speaking of a solemn festival of the Ethiopians, says,|. that Jupiter had descended among them, to be pre- sent at a festival which they had prepared for him, and that he was attended thither by all the gods." In another place§ he tells us, that Agamemnon sacrificed an ox to Jupiter, and that he invited several of the chieftains of the Grecian army, to eat the flesh of that vic- tim. He relates something similar respecting Nestor. II Hence it conies to pass that the phrase to make a feast, is very frequently employed both by sacred and profane authors, to express per- forming acts of idolatrous woi-ship. In this sense it is that we are to understand it, in that passage of the prophet Ezekiel, where, enume- rating the characters of the just man, this is laid down as one, " He hath not eaten upon the mountains," chap, xviii. 6;ir that is, who * Plato, (om. II. de Lcgibus 11. p. 653. Edit. Steph. J578. f Book V. Ter. 202. } Iliad I. vcr. 423. è Iliad 11. Tcr. 439, &.c. I Ody«>. III. ver. 428, Sic. f Sec other eiamplei, £xod. xxzii. 6. has not been a partaker in the sacrifices of the idolatrous. In burnt-otterings, the part of the victim consumed by fire, was considered as the portion of Ueity. Of this I shall adduce only a single instance, that I may not load my dis- course with too many quotations. Solinus re- lates,* that those who oflered up sacrifices to idols on Mount Etna, constructed their altars on the brink of its crater: that they placed bundles of dried sprigs upon those altars, but that they applied no fire to them. They pre- tended, that when the Divinity, in honour of whom these rites were performed, was pleased to accept the sacrifice, the bundles of sprigs spontaneously cauglit fire; that the flame ap- proached the persons who were celebrating this sacred festivity; that it encompassed them round and round, without doing them any harm; and thus was declared the acceptance of their oblation. In like manner, in the sacrifices which were oflered upon tlie altar of burnt-offerings, one part of the victim was for the people, another part for the priests, and another part was con- sumed by fire; this last was considered as the portion of God; this was particularly denomi- nated the meat or the bread of God; and the whole solemnity was intended, as has been said, to represent the intimate union, and the fa- miliar intercourse, which God wished to main- tain between himself and his people. 2. The same was likewise the design of the table of the show bread. It was natural that in the tabernacle, which was considered as the tent of Jehovah, and in the temple which was afterwards considered as his palace, there should be a table replenished with provision for him- self and for his ministers. It was the com- mand of God, that twelve of those cakes should be exhibited continually on the table of the sanctuary, to denote the twelve tribes of Israel. This same number was kept up even after the revolt of the ten tribes; because there were always worshippers of the true God, scattered over the whole twelve tribes. These cakes, exposed continually in the presence of Jeiiovah, were an invitation given to the re- volted tribes, to maintain his worship, and to serve him conformably to the rites, which he himself had been pleased to prescribe by the hand of Moses. This was likewise the grand motive urged by Abijah, king of Judah, to bring back the Israelites to their allegiance," 2 Chron. xiii. 9, &c. In this same sense is the table of the Eucha- rist, likewise, the table of the Lord. In this same sense, wo consider as the meat of God, or as the bread of God, these august symbols which are presented to us in the holy sacrament of the supper. These two solemn ceremonies have exactly one and the same end in view. The end ])roposed by the table of the Eucharist, as by that of the altar of burnt-offerings, or by the table of the shmc bread, is to form, and to maintain between God and us, an intercourse of familiar friendship; it is to form between God and us the most intimate union which it is possible to conceive as subsisting between two beings so very di fièrent as are the Creator and the creature. What proofs of love can be * Polyh. up. T. p. 15. Edit. Tri^ect. 1689. Ser. LXXVI.] FOR A COMMUNION SABBATH. 195 interchanged by two friends united in the ten- dorcst bonds, which God and the behever do not mutually give and receive at the Eucharis- tical table. Two friends intimately united, become per- fectly reconciled to each other, when some inT terposing cloud iiad dimmed the lustre of friend- ship, and they repair, by warmer returns of af- fection, the violence which love had suffered under tiiat fatal eclipse. This is what we ex- perience at the table of the holy sacrament. — That august ceremony is a mystery of recon- ciliation between the penitent sinner and the God of mercy. On the one part, tiie penitent sinner presents unto God " a broken and con- trite heart," Ps. li. 17, for grief of having of- fended him: he pours into the bosom of his God the tears of repentance; he protests that if the love which he has for his God has un- dergone a temporary suspension, it never was entirely broken asunder; and if the flame of that affection has been occasionally smothered under the aslics, yet it was never entirely ex- tinguished: he says to him with Thomas, reco- vered from his paroxysm of incredulity, " My Lord and my God; my Lord and riiy God," John XX. 28, and with Peter, restored to favour after he had denied his Master, " Lord, thou knowest all things, tliou knowcst that I love thee," John xxi. 17. And on the other part, the God of mercy extends his bowels of com- passion towards the believer; he gives him as- surance that his repentance is accepted, and speaks peace inwardly to his conscience, say- ing, " Son, be of good cheer, thy sins be for- given thee," Matt. ix. 2. Two friends intimately united, lose sight, in some sense, of the difference which there may be between their respective conditions. This too, is what the believer experiences at tiie Lord's table. On the one part, though there must ever be an immeasurable abyss between God and us, we go to him as to our brother, as to our friend; shall I presume to add, as to our equal? And on the other part, God is pleased to lay aside, in condescension to our weakness, if the expression be lawful, the rays of his divine majesty, with which the eyes of mortals would be dazzled into blindness. Je- sus Christ clothes himself with our flesh and blood: and of that community of nature makes up a title of familiarity with us; according to those words of the apostle; " both he that sanctifieth, and they who are sanctified, are all of one: for which cause he is not ashamed to call them brethren, saying, I will declare thy name unto my brethren," Ileb. ii. 11, 12. Two friends intimately united, blend their goods and fortune, in blending their condition. This likewise the believer experiences in the holy sacrament of the supper. On the one hand, we devote to God all that we are; we promise him that there is no band so tender but what we shall be ready to break asunder; no passion 60 dear, but that we are determined to sacri- fice it; no possession so precious but that we are cheerfully disposed to resign, whenever his glory requires it at our hands. And on the other hand, God draws nigh to us with his grace, with his aid, and to say all in one word, he comes to us with his son: he gives us this Son, as tlie Son gives himself to us, " God so loved the world, that he gave his only begotten Son," John iii. 16. " Greater love hath no man than this, that a man lay down his life for his friends," John xv. 13. Two friends intimately united, however well assured tliey may be of reciprocal tenderness, take pleasure in making frequent repetition of tlie expressions of it. Friendship has its high festivals, its overflowings, its ecstacies. This too is the experience of the saints at the table of the Lord. There the soul of the believer says to his Redeemer, " I am crucified with Clirist: nevertheless 1 live; yet not I, but Christ liveth in me: and the lite which I now live in the flush, I live by the faith of the Son of God, who loved me, and gave himself for mo," Gal. ii. 20. And there it is, on the other hand, that God communicates to the soul of the believer the full assurance of liis love: " For the moun- tains siiall depart, and the hills be removed: but my kindness shall not depart from thee, neither shall the covenant of my peace bo re- moved, sailh the Lord, that hath mercy on thee," Isa. liv. 10. Thus it is, my brethren, that the altar of burnt offerings, or the table of the show bread, and the Eucharistical table of the Lord's supper, present the self-same mysteries to the eye of faith. Thus it is that both the one and the other are " tiie table of the Lord," and that the repast served upon it, is " the meat of God," or the bread of God. Thus it is, that in both the one and the other of those solemn ceremonies, the end which God proposes to himself is to form with men a union the most intimate and the most tender. Having thus stated the first parallel propos- ed, that of the altar of burnt offerings, or the table of the show bread, and the sacramental ta- ble of the Lord's Supper, we now proceed, II. To state the parallel between the profa- nation of the altar, or the table in the ancient sanctuary, and the profanation of the sacra- mental table of the Eucharist: that is, to state the parallel between the duties prescribed to tlie ancient Jews, and tliose which are pre- scribed to Christians, when they draw nigh to God in the holy ordinance of tlie supper. As they trace the same important truths, they en- force the same practical obligations. What made the ancient Jews profane the table of the Lord? How came they to say, " tlie ta- ble of the Lord is contemptible?" How durst they offer " polluted bread" on his altar? It was, 1. Because they formed not just ideas of tiie end which God proposed to himself, when he enjoined the observance of those solemni- ties. It arose, 2. From their unwillingness to fulfil the moral engagements which the cere- monial observance imposed. Finally, 3. It proceeded from their wanting a just sense of the value of the blessings communicated by these. Now the sources of unworthy commu- nicating, so common in the Christian world, are precisely the same. Want of illumination; want of virtue; want of feeling. AVant of il- lumination, which prevents their knowing the meaning and design of our sacred mysteries. Want of virtue, which prevents their immo- lating to God all the vices which separate be- tween him and them. Want of feeling, which prevents their being kindled into gratitude, and 106 FOR A COMMUNION SABBATH. [Ser. LXXVI. love, and iioly fervour, wlien God discloses to them, at his table, all the treasures of felicity and glory. Three heads of coinparisoti be- tween the priests of Malachi's days, and many who bear the Christian name ainonij ourselves. Three touchstones furnished to assist you in the examination of your own consciences. " Thus Baith the Ivord of hosts unto you, O priests, that despise my name: and ye say, wherein have we despised thy name.' Ye offer polluted bread upon my altar: and ye say, wherein have we polluted thee.' In that ye say, the table of the Lord is contemptible." 1. Want of illumination. The priests of Malachi's days did not form ideas sufficiently just of the end which Jehovah promised to himself, when he enjoined the presenting of offerings, on the altar of burnt offerings, and on the table of the show bread. Expressly Bet apart for teaching those great truths to others, tliey remained themselves in a state of ignorance. They had no other qualification to be the ministers of religion, except the tribe from which they descended, and the habit which they wore. Our prophet upbraids them with this gross and criminal ignorance: " The priests' lips should keep knowledge, and they should seek the law at his mouth: for he is the messenger of the Lord of hosts: but ye are de- parted out of the way: ye have caused many to stumble at the law," chap. ii. 7, 8. They had not only conceived false ideas of religion themselves, but they communicated these to the people. The prophet does not indicate pre- cisely respecting what points the ignorance of those unworthy ministers was most conspicu- ous: but if we may form a judgment of the case from the character of their successors, it was impossible to entertain ideas of religion more false than those which they propagated. How wretched was the doctrine of the Rab- bins who were contemporar}- with our blessed Lord, and of those of modern times! Misera- ble conceits; insipid allegories; imaginary mys- teries; puerile relations. Tiicsu constituted the great body of the Rabbinical theolugy. Would to God that such whims were to be found only among Rabbins! But we must not pursue this reflection. Nothing more is wanting, many a time, but a single ignorant, prejudiced pastor, to perpetuate ignorance, and transmit preju- dice, for ages together in a church. This was evidently the case in the times of our prophet: and this it was which dictated these keen re- proaches: "ye are departed out of the way: ye have caused many to stumble at the law: ye have corrupted the covenant of Levi, saith the Lord of hosts," chaj). ii. 8. Want of illumination: the first head of com- parison between the criminality of the priests of Malachi's day, who said, lite tabic of the Lord is conlemplihle, and the criminality of profess- ing Christians, who prol'iine the sacramental table. To profane the ordinance of the Lord's Supper, is to partake of the symbols there pre- sented, without having maturely considered the great truths which they represent. To profane the ordinance of the Lord's Supper, is to com- municate, without having any other ideas of the mysteries of the incarnation of the Son of God, which are there unfolded, than those which we bad of them in the days of our childhood. To profane the ordinance of the Lord's Supper, is to believe, on the faith of a man's pastor, or of his ancestors, that God sent his Son into the world, to redeem the hu- man race, and to take no pains to be inform- ed on what principles that doctrine is esta- blished. To present " polluted bread on the altar of God;" to say, " the table of the Lord is con- temptible:" it is the crime of that young man, who would account himself degraded by ap- plying to the study of his catechism, by acquir- ing more perfect knowledge of his religion; who would rather continue to grovel in igno- rance, than employ the means necessary to the attainment of instruction. It is the crime of that head of a family, who is so far from being in a condition to communicate religious instruc- tion to his children, that he himself is a stran- ger to it. It is the crime of that magistrate, who, under pretence of a load of public busi- ness, will not take time seriously to examine, whether there be a God in heaven, and whe- ther the Scriptures are of divine origin and au- thority. It is the crime of that female, who, under pretence of the weakness of her sex, de- bases the dignity of her nature, and devotes her whole attention to the management of her domestic concerns. Look well to it, exa- mine yourselves carefully. Is there no one among you who can discern his own resem- blance in any of these characters.' Is it a knowledge of the truth, or the power of pre- judice, or compliance with custom, which in- duces you to assume the livery of Christianity? Is it the decision of a learned divine, and the authority of your fathers; or is it the fruit of serious study, and an enlightened persuasion? Want of illumination; this is the first article of comparison between the profane priests of Malachi's days, and profane Christians of our own times: "you offer polluted bread upon mine altar: ye say the table of the Lord is con- temptible." 2. The priests of Malachi's days profaned the table of the Lord, in refusing to fulfil the moral engagements which the ceremonial ob- servance imposed, in the symbols of a sacred union witii Deity. While they were profess- edly uniting themselves to the Holy 07ie of Is- rael, they entertained sentiments the most cri- minal, and were chargeable with practices the most irregular and impure. They participated in the table of the Lord, while their hands were defiled with the accursed thing; and they presumed, by offering to God a part of what they had forcibly or fraudulently taken away from their neighbours, to make in some mea- sure, an accomplice in their injustice and rapa- city. With this they are reproached in the lïJth and 13lh verses of the chapter from which our text is taken: ye have polluted my table, in presenting on it that which is torn or stolen. They were |)artaker8 of tlie table of the Lord, at the very time when they were avowedly living in forbidden wedlock with pagan women. With this they are upbraided in the second chapter of this prophecy, at the eleventh verse: " Judah had dealt treacherously, and an abomi- nation is committed in Israel and in Jerusalem: for Judah hath profaned the holiness of the Lord which he loved, and hath married the Ser. LXXVI.] FOR A COMMUNION SABBATH. 197 daugliter of a strange god." They were par- takers of the table of the Lord, at the very time when they were practising criminal divorces, and indulging themselves in senti- ments tlic most barbarous and inhuman, to- wards persons whom the laws of marriage ought to have rendered dear and respectable to them. With this they are reproached in the 13lh verse of the same chapter; " Tiiis have ye done again, covering the altar of the Lord with tears, with weeping, and with cry- ing out, insomuch that he regardeth not the offering any more, or receiveth it with good will at your hand. Yet ye say, Wliereforc? Because the Lord hath been witness between thee and the wife of thy youth, against whom thou hast dealt treacherously; yet she is thy companion, and the wife of thy covenant." They were partakers of the table of the Lord, while they impiously dared to accuse him, not only of tolerating vice, but of loving and ap- proving it. With this, too, they are reproached, in the nth verse of that chapter: "Ye have wearied the Lord with your words: yet ye say, wherein have we wearied him? When ye say, every one that doth evil is good in the siglit of the Lord, and he deiighteth in them: or, where is the God of judgment'" Want of virtue: a second point of compari- son between the priests who said, " the table of the Lord is contemptible," and professors who, to this day, profane the holy ordinance of the supper. Can any among you discerp your own likeness under tliis character? Are you going to vow unto the Lord an inviolable fidelity; or, while you are partaking of his grace, have you a secret reservation disrespect- ful to his laws? Is it your determination to put in practice the great, the essential virtues of the Christian life: or do you mean to satisfy yourselves with discharging the petty duties of morality, and with attending to the formal and less important obligations of religioa' Are you going to declare war against every thing which opposes the empire of righteousness in your heart, or are you reserving the indul- gence of some favourite passion, some Delilah, some Drusilla? Are you disposed to prescribe to your progress in grace a fi.xed point, beyond which it is needless to aim; or is it your n.xcd resolution, through grace, to be continually advancing towards perfection' Are you going to satisfy yourselves with vague designs; or are your projects to be supported by just measures and sage precautions? 3. Finally, the priests of Malachi's days profaned the table of the Lord, from their be- ing destitute of a just sense of the inestimable value of the blessings communicated. It seemed to them, as if God put a price too high on the benefits which he proffered: and that, every thing weighed and adjusted, it was bet- ter to go without them, than to purchase them at the rate of such sacrifices as the possession of them demanded. This injurious mode of computation is reproved in very concise, but very energetic terms, chap. i. 13. "Ye said, what a weariness is it!" and, in another place, chap. iii. 14. " Ye have said it is vain to serve God: and what profit is it, that we have kept his ordinance, and that we have walked mournfully before the Lord of hosts?" and at the very beg inning of the book of this prophecy: " I have loved you, saith the Lord: yet we say, wherein hast thou loved us?" This was offer- ing an insult to Deity, if the expression be warrantable, in the tenderest part. He de- clares to us, that he stands in no need of our worship, and of our homage; that, exalted to the height of felicity and glory, he can derive no advantage from our obedience and submission; that his laws are the fruit of love, and that the virtue which he prescribes to us, is the only path that can conduct us to the sovereign good. The priests belied this notion of religion. Want of feeling: a third article of compa- rison, between the profanation of the table of the Lord, of which those detestable wretches rendered themselves guilty, and the guilt of Christian professors who profane the holy ta- ble of the Lord's Supper. A Christian who partakes of this sacred ordinance, ought to approach it with a heart penetrated by the un- speakable greatness of the blessings there ten- dered to our acceptance. He ought to view that sacred table as the centre, in which all the benedictions bestowed by the Creator meet. He ought to be making unremitting efforts to measure the boundless dimensions of the love of God, to implore the aid of the Spirit, that he may be enabled to view it in all its extent, and to " comprehend with all saints, what is the breadtn, and length, and depth, and height of that love," Eph. iii. 18. He ought to be con- templating that chain of blessings which are there displayed in intimate and inseparable union: " Whom he did foreknow he also did predestinate, to be conformed to the image of his Son moreover whom he did pre- destinate them he also called: and whom he called tliem he also justified: and whom he justified them he also glorified," Rom. viii. 29, 30. Under a sense of favours so numerous, and so distinguishing, he ought to cry out with the psalmist: " How excellent is thy loving- kindness, O God! therefore the children of men put their trust under the shadow of thy wings. They shall be abundantly satisfied with the fatness of thy house; and thou shalt make them drink of the river of thy pleasures," Ps. xxxvi. ", 8. He ought to exclaim, with a soul ab- sorbed in the immensity of the divine goodness: " my soul shall be satisfied as with marrow and fatness," Ps. Ixiii. 5. He ought, above all, to be struck with the incomprehensible dispropor- tion there is between what God does for us, and what he requires of us. He ought to make the same estimate of things which St. Paul did; " I reckon, that the sufferings of this pre- sent time are not worthy to be compared with the glory which shall be revealed in us," Rom. viii. 18, every thing fairly considered, I reckon that the trouble which the study of his reli- gion demands, tlie sacrifices exacted of God, tlie constraint to which I am subjected in im- molating to him my sinful passions, in resist- ing a torrent of corruption, in struggling against the intluence of bad example, in strain- ing to rise above flesh and blood, above self- love and nature: every thing fairly considered, I reckon that whatever is demanded of us by God, when we come to his table, is not once to be compared with the favours which he there dispenses, with the grand objects which 198 FOR A COMMUNION SABBATH. [Ser. LXXVI. he there displays, with the pardon which ]ie there pronounces, with the peace of conscience which he tliere bestows, with the eternal glory which he there promises. To be destitute of such feelings as these, when we partake of the Lord's Supper, is to profane it. E.Kainine yourselves once more by this standard. Want of feeling, this was the third head of com- parison between profane Jews, and profane Christian professors: " Ye otter polluted bread upon mine altar; ye say the table of the Lord is contemptible." Let each of us examine himself by an appli- cation of the truths now delivered. I shall address myself, 1. To those who, on reviewing their former communion services, see cause to consider themselves as chargeable with the guilt which God imputed to the Jews who lived in tiie daysof Malachi. And would to God that this topic of discourse might have no reference to any one in this assembly! Would to God tliat no one of you might be justly ranked in any of the odious classes which we have enumerated! But only employ a moment's reflection, on the shortness of the time usually devoted to fireparation for partaking of the Lord's Supper. t is evident, as I think, from all we have said, that the preparation necessary to a worthy receiving of it, is a work, nay, a work which calls for both attention and e.xerlion. But do we, of a truth, set apart much of our time to this work' I do not mean to examine all the cases in which a man may communicate un- worthily; I confine myself to a single point, and only repeat this one reflection: Prepara- tion for the Lord's table is a work which re- quires time, attention, exertion. Tliat is enough; that proves too much against us all. For we are constrained to acknowledge, that it is by no means customary among us to re- tire for meditation, to fast, to engage in pecu- liar acts of devotion, on the days which pre- cede a communion solemnity. It is no unusual thing to see, on those days, at man}' of our houses, parties formed, social festivity going on: in tiiese we see the same games, the same amusements, the same dissipation, as at otlier times. I have reason to believe tliat in other protestant countries, tiiough the same corrup- tions but too universally prevail, I believe, nevertheless, that such days are there distin- guished by the suspension of parties of pleasure, by discontinuance of certain practices, perhaps abundantly innocent in themselves, but, at the same time, too foreign to the design of tiie holy communion, to engage our attention, when we have an innnediale ))rospect of par- taking of it. But in these ])rovinces, we are so far from coming up to the spirit and the truth of (Christianity, the exterior order and decency of it are hardly observed. But if tiiis reflection be iiisullicient to con- vince you of a truth so mortifying, as that there is much iniworliiy connnunicaling in the midst of us; think, 1 beseech you, on the slight- ness of the changes which these solemnities produce. Here is the touchstone; this is the infallible standard by which to determine the interesting question under discussion. Four times a year we almost all of us come to the table of the Lord Jesus Christ; four times a year we partake of the holy sacrament of the supper; four times a year, consequently, this church ought to assume a new appearance; four times a year we ought to see multitudes of new converts. But do we see them of a trutL' Ah! I dare not dive to the bottom of this mortifying subject. The evil is but too api)arent; we have but too good reason to al- lege, that there is much unworthy communi- cating in the midst of us. It is with you, unhappy professors of the Christian name, with you 1 nmst begin the ap- plic;ition of this discourse: with you who have so often found out the fi^tal secret of drawing a mortal poison from that sacred table: with you, who are, by and by, going once more perhaps to derive a curse from the very bosom of benediction, and death from the fountain of life. Do not deceive yourselves; seek not a dis- guise from your own wretchedness; think not of extenuating the apprehension of your dan- ger; listen, O listen to the fearful threatenings denounced by the prophet, against God's an- cient people, after he had addressed them in the words of the text: " Cursed be tlie deceiver which .... voweth and sacrificeth unto the Lord a corrupt thing .... if ye will not hear, and if ye will not lay it to heart, to give glory unto my name, sailh the Lord of hosts, 1 will even send a curse upon you, and I will curse your blessings .... I will corrupt your seed, and spread dung upon your faces, even file dung of your solemn feasts," chap. i. 14; ii. 2, 3. But on the other hand, infuse not poison into your wounds, aggravate not the image of your wretchedness, but attend to the comforta- ble words, which immediately follow those of my text: " Now I pray you, beseech God that he will be gracious unto us .... he will re- gard your persons," ver. 9. The sentence of your condemnation is not yet executed: the doom of death which has been pronounced against you is not irrevocable. I see you still blended with Christians who have communi- cated worthily, and who are going to repeat that delightful service: I still beliold " the riches of God's goodness, and forbearance, and long-suficring .... leading you to repent- ance," Rom. ii. 4, and you may still become partakers in the blessedness of this day. You must have recourse to that same Jesus whom you have so cruelly insulted: you must be covered with that very blood which you have " trampled under foot" in a manner so profane: you must flee and take refuge under the shadow of that very cross, to which you was going to nail afresh the Lord of glory: you must, by ardent and importunate supplication, avert the thunderbolt, which is ready to be launched against your guilty head; " O Lord, rebuke me not in thy wrath; neither chasten me in thy hot displeasure," Ps. xxxviii. 1. " Against thee, thee only, have I sinned, and done tliis evil in tliy sigiit; .... deliver me Iroin blood-guiltiness, U God, thou God of my salvation; restore unto me the joy of thy sal- vation; and uphold me with thy free Spirit," Ps. Ii. 4. 14. 12. But, above all, resolutions sincere, deter- minate, cflBcacious, followed up by oxecutiou Ser. LXXVL] FOR A œMMUNION SABBATH. 199 from the moment yoti retire from this place I Hast thou exerted thyself to the uttermost, to must supply the want of preparation, and the take all the immeasurable dimensions of the cominunicatinir of this day must make up tlie defects of all that preceded it. And if God has not in mercy granted you such dispositions as these, may he inspire you, at least, with a resolution not to a|>proach his table, for fear of arminjr his rij^lit hand with hotter thunder- bolts to crush and destroy you! or rather, may God grant you those happy dispositions, and graciously accept them when bestowed! may it please God to be disarmed by your repent- ance, to gatiier up your tears, to regard with an eye of favour your efforts, your feeble ef- forts! May God grant your absolution, your salvation, to the earnest prayers of these his faithful servants, or rather, to tlio all-powerful intercession of the Redeemer, unprotected by which the most eminent of saints durst not lift up their eyes to heaven, and approach the throne of the divine Majesty. 2. I now turn to you, my dearly beloved brethren, who, while you rellcct on commu- nion seasons past, can enjoy the testimony of conscience, that you drew nigh to God in some state of preparation, and that you have reason to hope for a repetition of the same felicity. This ceremony is so august; the mysteries which it unfolds, arc so awful; the punishment denounced against those who profane it, is so tremendous, that it is impossible to escape every emotion of fear, when engaged in the celebration of it. Study to be sensible of your own weakness. Say, in tiie language of re- pentance the most lively and sincere, and of humility the most profound, " If tiiou, Lord, shouldst mark iniquities: O Lord, who shall stand?" Ps. c.\.\.x. 3. " O Lord God, I am not worthy of the least of all the mercies, and of all the truth which thou hast showed unto thy servant," Gen. x.xxii. 10. Stand in awe of the presence of the majesty of God Almiglity; cry out with Jacob, " How dreadful is this place! this is none other than the house of God, and this is the gate of heaven," Gen. .\xvii. 17. But while you render unto God, the homage of holy fear, honour him likewise with that of holy confidence. Think not that he loves to be always viewed as " the great, the mighty, and the terrible God," Neh. i.Y. 32, the God who "is a consuming fire," Heb. xii. 29. He draws nigh to you in this ordinance, not with awful manifestations of vengeance; but with all the attractions of his grace, with all the gifts of his Spirit, witii all the demonstrations of his love. Bow down over the mystical ark, to- gether with the celestial intelligences, and ad- mire the wonders which it contains, and be- holding with them " the glory" of your Re- deemer, with them cry out, " Holy, holy, holy is the Lord of hosts; the whole earth is full of his glory," Isa. vi. 3. Study to know and to feel the whole extent of your felicity, and let a sense of the benefits with which God hath loaded thee, kindle the hallowed flame of gratitude in your hearts. " Hast thou ever, O my soul, been made sensi- ble of the unbounded nature of thy bappinesa' love of God? Hast thou reflected profoundly, on a God who was made flesh, who rescues thee from everlasting misery, who covers thy per.son with his own, that the arrows of divine wrath may piefce him only, without reaching thee? Hast thou seriously considered, that if God had hurried thee out of the world in a state of unrepentcd guilt; if he had not pluck- ed thee, by a miracle of grace, out of the vor- tex of human things, instead of being surround- ed, as now, with tiicsc thy fellow-believers in Christ Jesus, thou mightest have been doomed to the society of demons; instead of those songs of praise to which thy voice is now attuned, thou mightest this day have been mingling thy hovvliiigs with those of the yictims, whom the wrath of God is immolating in the regions of despair. Let the blessedness which God ia accumulating upon us, support us under all the ills which we are called to endure. Our life is not yet concluded; our warfare is not yet accomplished. We are about to return into the world; we have still difliculties and dangers to encounter, bitter potions to swallow, attlictions to suffer; especially in tiiis age of fire and of blood so fatal to the Christian name. But, supported by this grace of God, we shall be able to resist and to overcome the most violent assaults. We are going to return into the world, amidst the snares of the wicked one; he will still aim many a blow at our souls; this flesh is not yet entirely mortified; the old man has not yet received his death's wound; evil con- cupiscence is not yet completely extinguished; we shall fall into sin again. Humiliating re- flection to a soul which this day places all its delight in being united unto God! But, sup- ported by tliis peace of God, we shall find the means of remedying the weakness with which we may be still overtaken, as it has furnished the means of deliverance from those into which we had already fallen. We are going to return into the world, it is high time to think of our departure out of it. We are conversant with the living; we must think of being speedily mingled with the dead. We yet live; we must die. We must be look- ing forward to those mortal agonies which are preparing; to that bed of languishing which is already spread; to that funeral procession which is marshalling for us. But, supported by this peace of God, we shall be more than conquerors in all these conflicts: with " the Spirit of him who hath raised up Christ from the dead," we shall bid defiance to all the powers of " the king of terrors." Jesus, who " hath destroyed him who had the power of death," will deliver us from his dominion. Through that gloomy night which is fast ap- proaching, and which is already covering our eyes with its awful shade, we shall behold the rays of " the Son of righteousness," and their divine light shall dissipate to us all the horrors of" the valley of the shadow of death." Amen. To God be honour and glory for ever. Amen. 200 THE RAPTURE OF ST. PAUL. [Ser. LXXVII. SERMON LXXVII. THE RAPTURE OF ST. PAUL PART I. 2 Cor. xii. 2 — 4. I knew a man in Christ above fourteen years ago, (whetlier in the body, I cannot tell; or whether out of the body, I cannot tell: God knoweth;) such an one caught up to the third heaven. Jind 1 knew such a man, (whether in the body, or out of the body, I cannot tell: God knoweth;) hotc that he xcas caught iip into paradise, and heard uns])eakable words, which it is not latcful for a man to utter. Ir there be a passage in the whole Bible ca- pable of inflaming, and at the same time of baffling human curiosity, it is that which I have just now read. I do not mean a vain and presumptuous curiosity, but a curiosity ap- parently founded on reason and justice. One of the principal causes of our want of ardour in the pursuit of heavenly blessings, is our having no experienced witness, who, after hav- ing himself tasted the sweetness of them, con- veyed to us clear and distinct ideas on the sub- ject. It is a difficult matter to love that of which we have no knowledge. St. Paul seems to have been reserved of God to supply this defect, and to fill up, if I may use the expression, tiiis void in religion. By a supernatural dispensation of grace, he passes into the other world before death; and he re- turns thence before the general resurrection. The whole church, awakened to eager atten- tion, calls upon him for a detail of the wonders of the world unknown. And as the Israelites, after having despatched spies into tiie land of promise, burned with ardent desire to see and hear them, in order that they might obtain in- formation respecting the country, whether it merited the exertions necessary to acquire pos- session: in like manner, the Christian world seems to flock round our apostle, in earnest ex- pectation of being informed what that felicity is, into which they are invited to enter by agate so strait. They seem with one accord to ask him: What did you hear? What did you see? in the view of determining, upon his report, this all important question, whether they should still persevere in their exertions, to surrnount the obstacles which they have to encounter in the way of salvation, or whether they should relinquish the pursuit. But St. Paul fulfils not this expectation: he maintains a profound silence respecting the objects which had been presented to his mind: he speaks of his rapture, only in tlie view of confounding those false teachers who took upon them to set at nought his ministry: and all the description he gives of paradise, amounts to no more than a declaration of his own utter inability to describe what ho had seen and heard. " I knew a man in Christ: a man in Christ," that is to say, a Christian, and by this denomination the apostle is characteriz- ing himself, " I knew a man in Ciirist above fourteen years ago, (whether in the body, I cannot tell: or whether out of the body, I cannot tell: God knoweth;) such an one caught up to the tiiird heaven. And 1 knew such a man, (wlielher in the body, or out of the body, 1 cannot tell: God knoweth;) how that ho was caught up into paradise, and heard unspeakable words, which it is not lawful for a man to utter." We propose in the following discourse, my brethren, to attem|)t a solution of tiie diffi- culty which arises from this silence of the apos- tle. We propose to discuss this singular, but interesting question; Wherefore is the celes- tial felicity " unspeakable?" Wlierefore should it be unlawful for a man to utter it' We shall begin with some elucidation of the ex- pressions of our text, inquiring, 1. Into the era to which reference is here made; " I knew a man in Christ above fourteen years ago." 2. By considering what is said respecting the manner of this rapture; " Whether in the body, I cannot tell; or whether out of the body I cannot tell: God knoweth." 3. What we are to understand by paradise, and the third heaven. 4. Finally, VVhat ideas we are to affix to those -unspeakable words to which our apostle alludes in the text; and these will consti- tute the first general division of our subject. But in the second, which we have princi- pally in view, we shall examine the point al- ready indicated, by inquiring, whether the si- lence of Scripture respecting a state of future happiness, suggests any thing tending to cool our ardour in the pursuit of it: we shall en- deavour to make you sensible, that nothing is so much calculated to convey lofty ideas of the paradise of God, as tliat very veil which conceals it from our eyes. If you fully enter into the great aim and end of this discourse, it will produce on your minds those effects to which all our exhortations, all our importuni- ties are adapted, namely, to kindle in your hearts an ardent desire to go to God; to put into your mouths that exclamation of the psalmist: " How great is thy goodness, O God, which thou hast laid up for them that fear thee!" Ps. xxxi. 19; to place you in the very situation of our apostle, who after having been " caught up to the third heaven," could no longer endure to live upon the earth, had his eyes opened to every path that led to death, could talk no more of any thing but of dy- ing, " but of finishing his course," 2 Tim. iv. ■7, but of being " absent from the body," 2 Cor. v. 8, but of departing, but of " being with Clirist, which was to him far better," Phil. i. 23. I. We begin with some elucidation of the expressions of the text, and of these, 1 . The first refers to the era of St. Paul's rapture, I knew a man in Christ " above four- teen years ago." But were we to enter into a complete discussion of this question, it would occupy much more time than is allotted for the whole of our present exercise. Never had preacher a fairer opportunity of wasting an liour to his hearers, in useless investigation, and impertinent quotations. We could easily supply you with an ample list of the opinions of interpreters, and of the reasons adduced by each, in support of his own. We could tell you, first, how it is alleged by some that these fourteen years denote the time elapsed from the conversion of St. Paul; and that bis rapture Ser. LXXVII.] THE RAPTURE OF ST. PAUL. 201 took place during those three days in whicli " he was without siglit, and did neitlicr eat nor drink," Acta ix. 9., and to lliis purpose wo could quote (^apel, Lira, Cave, Tostat, and many other authors, unknown to the greater part of my audience. We niigiit add, that some other commenta- tors refer this epoch to the eighth year after St. Paul's conversion to Christianity, the forty- fourth of Jesufl Ciirist, and the twelfth after his deatli. We could show you how others insist, with a greater air of prohability, that tiie apostle enjoyed this heavenly vision, when, after his contention with Barnabas, huniiliating instance of the inhrmity of the greatest saints, he pro- secuted his ministry in a ditierent track. Tiiose who adopt this opinion, allege, in support of it, the words of St. Paul in chap. xxii. of the Acts, ver. 17. " It came to pass, that when 1 was come again to Jerusalem, even while 1 prayed in the temple, I was in a trance." But disquisitions of this sort are unworthy of the place which I now have the honour to fill. I have matters of much higher importance to propose to you. 2. The manner of St. Paul's rapture stands in need, perhaps, of some elucidation. He has expressed it in terms very much calculated to check curiosity. " Whether in the body 1 can- not tell: or whether out of the body 1 cannot tell." We, accordingly, presume not to pur- sue researches on points respecting which the apostle himself prolesses ignorance. Let it only be remarked, that God was pleas- ed, in former times, to manifest himself in many different manners. Sometimes it was by a voice: witness that which issued out of the cloud, Exod. xvi. 10; witness that whicii ad- dressed Moses from the burning bush, Ex. iii. 4; witness that which thundered from Mount Sinai at the giving of the law, E.\od. xix. 16; witness that which answered Job out of the whirlwind, chap, xxxviii. 1; witness that from above the mercy-seat, E.\od. xxv. 22. He was pleased at other times, to reveal himself in dreams and visions of the night: as to Jacob at Bethel, Gen. xxviii. 12: to Abime- lech. Gen. xx. 3; and to Pharoali's butler, Gen. xl. 9. He sometimes manifested himself in visions to persons awake. Thus he presented to Moses in Horeb a bush burning witli fire yet uncon- sumed, Exod. iii. 4: to Balaam, an angel with his sword drawn in his hand. Num. xxii. 32; to Joshua, the captain of the Lord's host, Josh. V. 15. He sometimes communicated himself to men through the medium of inspiration, accompa- nied with emotions which constrained them to speak out. This was the case with Jere- miah, as we read, chap. xx. 8, 9, " The word of the Lord was made a reproach unto mo, and a derision daily. Then I said, 1 will not make mention of him, nor speak any more in his name. But his word was in nnne heart as a burning fire shut up in my bones, and I was weary with forbearing." But of all those miraculous dispensations, the most noble and exalted was tliat of rapture or ecstacy. By the term ecstacy we mean that powerful conflict, that concentralioh of thought. Vol. IL— 26 that profound intenscncss of mental applica- tion, under tlio influence of which the enrap- tured person is emancipated from the commu- nications of the senses, forgets his body, and is conijdetely absorbed by the object of his medi- tation. licipture is perhaps a degree superior to ecstacy. Sometimes it affects the mind. Tliis is the case when God, in virtue of that sovereign power which he possesses over the soul of man, e.x- cites in it the same ideas, causes it to perceive the same objects, with wliich it would be struck, were the body, to which it is united, really in a place from whence it is extremely remote. It is thus that we must explain the rapture of the pro|)het ICzckiel, chap. viii. 3; and tliat of which St. John speaks in the book of Reve- lation, chap. i. 10. It sometimes affect." the body. This was the case of Philip, who, after he had converted to tlie faith of Christ the eunuch of Candace, queen of the Ethiopians, and baptized him, was "caught away by tlie spirit of the Lord, that the euimch saw him no more," Acts viii. 39. Though St. Paul has spoken very sparingly of the manner in which God was pleased to reveal himself to him, he has said enough to show that it is holy rapture he means. But whether it were that which transported the body into another place, or that which trans- ported the mind only: nay, whether there be a real difference between rapture and ecstacy, no one can pretend to determine, witiiout incur- ring the charge of presumption. Tlie apostle himself declares tliat it surpassed his own knowledge; " whether in the body, I cannot tell; or wliether out of the body, 1 cannot tell: God knoweth, such an one caught up to the third heaven caught up into paradise." 3. The third heaven, paradise: another sub- ject of elucidation. The third heaven is the habitation of the blessed; that in which God displays the most splendid and glorious tokens of his presence: this is disputed by no one. — But the other expression employed by St. Paul, " caught up into paradise," has furnished mat- ter for controversy among the learned. It has long been made a question whether paradise and the third heaven denote one and the same place. Certain modern interpreters have main- tained the negative, with excessive warmth. A great number of the ancient fathers had adopted the same opinion. They considered paradise as a mansion in which the soul resided till the resurrection, and they distinguished it from heaven. Justin Martyr, disi)uling witli Tryphon, condemns, as equally erroneous, the denying of the doctrine of the resurrection, and the opinion which supposes that the souls of men go to God immediately after death. In this they follow the prejudices of the Jews. — Many of them believe that tlie souls of good people are translated to the garden of Eden, to wait for the day of the resurrection: they accordingly employ tliis form of prayer for dy- ing persons: " May his soul be received into the garden of Eden; may he have his part m paradise; may he repose, and sleep in peace till the coming of the Comforter, who shall speak peace to the fathers. O ye to whom the trea- sures of paradise are committed, open now its gates that he may enter in." 202 THE RAPTURE OF ST. PAUL. [Slr. LXXVII. But this error, liowever lon^ it may have subsisted, and by whatever great names it may have been inaintuiaed, is nevertheless an error, as might be demonstrated by more arguments than wo have now leisure to adduce. You liavo only to read the prayer which Jesus Christ addressed to his father a little before his death, where you will find him demanding immediate admission into the heavenly felicity. He says, likewise, to the penitent thief on the cross, " Verily I say unto thee, to-day thou shalt be with mo in paradise," Luke .\.\iii. 4;5. Para- dise, therefore, is the place in which God dis- plays the most august symbols of his presence, and is not dilfcrcnt from the tliird heaven. Now, if it be asked, why this name is given to the third heaven, it will be necessary to recur to its first original. Persons who have applied to the dry study of etymology assure us that the word is of Persian extraction, and that the Persians gave the name of paradise to the ])arks and gardens of their kings. It came in process of time to denote all places of a similar de- scription. It passed from the Persians to the Greeks, to the Hebrews, to the Latins.* We find it employed in this sense in Nchemiah ii. 8, in Ecclesiastes ii. 5, in many profane au- thors; and the Jews gave this name to the çrar- den of Eden in which Adam was placed. You will find it in the second chapter of the book of Genesis. But enough, and more than enough, has been suggested on this head. 4. There is but one particular more that re- quires some elucidation. " I knew a man," adds the apostle, " who heard unsjieakable words, which it is not lawful for a man to ut- ter." To see things, and to hear %vords, are, in the stylo of the sacred writers, frequently used as phrases of similar import, and it is not on this ground that the dili'icully of the present article presses. But, what can be the meaning of the apostle, when he asserts that the words which lie hoard, or the things which he saw, " are unspeakable," and " which it is not law- ful for a man to utter?" Had he been laid un- der a prohibition to reveal the particulars of his vision? Had ho lost the ideas of it? Or were the things which ho heard and saw of such a nature as to be absolutely inexpressible by mortal lip&' There is some plausible reason- ing that may be employed in support of each ofthe three opinions. Tho first has numerous partisans. Their belief is that God had revealed mysteries to St. Paul, but with a prohibition to disclose tliem to the world; they believe that the apostle, after having been rapt into the third heaven, had received a charge similar to that which was given to St. John, in a like situation, and which is transmitted to us in chap. x. of the book of Revelation, 4th verso, " Seal up those things which the seven thunders uttered, and write them not." Thus it was that the [)agans de- nominated certain of their mysteries ineffable, because it was forbidden to reveal tiiom. Thus, too, the Jews called the name of Jehovah in- effable, because it was unlawful to pronounce it. The second opinion is not destitute of pro- bability. As the soul of St. Paul had no sen- sible intercourse with his body, during this rap- * PoUux Ooomait, ture, it is not unlikely that the objects which struck him, having left no trace in the brain, he lost the recollection of a great part of what he liad seen. But we are under no obligation to restrict ourselves to either oftlic.se senses. The words of tho original translated " unspeakable, which it is not lawful for a man to utter," frequently denote that which is not of a nature to be e.\- plained: thus it is said, that " the Spirit maketh intercession for us, with groanings which can- not be uttered," Rom. viii. 26. Thus, too, St. Peter mentions a "joy imspeakable and full of glory," chap. i. 8., and we shall presently see that the heavenly felicity is, in this sense, un- speakable. Again, among those who have pursued re- searches, respecting the things which St. Paul declares to be ttnspcakahle, some have pretend- ed to tell us, that he means the divine essence: others, that it was the hierarchal order of the celestial intelligences; others, that it was the beauty and e.vcellency of glorified souls; others, tlial it was the mystery of the rejection of the .Tewish nation, and of the calling of the Gen- tiles; others, that it was the destination of the Christian church through its successive periods. But wherefore should we attempt to affix pre- cise limits to the things which our apostle heard and saw? He was rapt up to the very seat of the blessed; and he there, undoubtedly, par- took of the felicity which they enjoy. Had men employed their iina^ination only on the discussion of this question, no great harm could have ensued. But it is impossible to behold, without indignation, the inventors of fictitious pieces carrying their insolence so far, as to forge writings, which they ascribed to the Spirit of God hiniself, and in which they pretended those mysteries were explained. St. Epiphanius relates,* that certain ancient here- tics, these were the Gaiauiles or Cainites, had invented a book w-hich was afterwards adopted by the Gnostics. They gave it the name of The ^IseenMon of St. Paul, and presume to al- lege, that this book discovered what those " un- speakable things" were, which the apostle had heard. f St. Augustine speaks of the same work, as a gross imposture. Nicephorus tells us,| that a story was current, under the empe- ror Theodosius, of the discovery, in the house of St. Paul at Tarsus, of a marble chest, buried in the earth, and which contained the .ipoca- liipse of St. Paul. Ho himself refutes this fic- tion, by the testimony of a man of Tarsus, a member of the Presbytery. The impostor, who is the author of the work ascribed to Dionysius tho Areopagite, and who ffives himself out as that illustrious proselyte of our apostle, boasts of his having heard him relate wondorfiil things respecting tho nature, the glory, tho gifts, the beauty ot angels; and upon this testimony it is that he founds tho chimerical idea which ho has given us of the celestial hierarchy. * l!ut let us have done with all these frivolous conjectures, with all these impious fictions. We are going to ])roposo much nobler objects to your meditation, and to examine, as has * Hiere». 3«._ t Trcaliw 96. on St. John. ( Hist, lùcclù. lib. 111. cap. 34. Ser. LXXVII.] THE RAPTURE OF ST. PAUL. 203 been said, this singular, but interesting ques- tion, Wlicrefure is tiie celestial çlory of'sucli a nature as to defy description? Wliy is it " not lawful for a man to utter tlieni?" We arc go- ing to avail ourselves of this very inability to describe these gloriously unspeakable things, as the means of conveying to you exalted ideas of tlieui, and of kindling in your souls more ardent desires after the possession of them. This shall be tiio subject of the second part of our discourse. SERMON LXXVII. THE RAPTURE OF ST. PAUL. PART II. 2 Cor. xii. 2 — 1. I knew a man in Clirist above fourteen years ago, (whilher in the body I cannot tell; or triicther out of the body, I cannot tell: God knotctth;) such an one caught up to the third heaven. And I kneio such a man, (whether in the body, or out of the body, I cannot tell: Godknoxceth;) how that he was caught up iiito paradise, and heard unspeakable words, which it is not laieful for a man to utter. Having presented you with some brief eluci- dations of the expressions of the te.it, namely, 1. Respecting the era to which reference is here made; " I knew a man in Christ above fourteen years ago:" 2. Respecting the manner of his rapture; " whether in the body, I cannot tell: or out of the body, I cannot tell: God knoweth:" 3. Respecting the place to which Paul was caught; " paradise, the third hea- ven:" and, 4. Respecting what he there saw and heard; " unspeakable words, which it is not lawful for a man to utter:" we proceed to, n. The second general head, namely, to in- quire, whether the silence of Scripture on tiie subject of a state of future happiness, suggests any tiling that has a tendency to cool our ar- dour in the pursuit of it; or, wliether this very veil, which conceals the paradise of God from our eyes, is not above all things calculated to convey the most exalted ideas of it. We refer the felicity of the blessed in hea- ven to three general notions. Tiie blessed in heaven possess, 1. Superior illumination: 2. They are prompted by inclinations tiie most no- ble and refined: 3. They enjoy the purest sensi- ble pleasures. A defect of genius jirevents our ability to partake of their illumination; a de- fect of taste prevents our adopting their incli- nations; a defect of faculty prevents our per- ception of their pleasures. In these three re- spects, the celestial felicity is " unspeakable:" in these three respects, " it is not lawful for a man to utter it." 1. The blessed in heaven possess superior illumination: a defect of genius prevents our participation of it. While we are in this world, we are deficient in many ideas. Properly speaking, we iiave ideas of two kinds only: that of body, and tiiat of spirit. The combination of those two ideas forms all our perceptions, all our speculations, the whole body of our knowledge. And what- ever cflurls may have been made by certain philosopliers to prove that we are acquainted with beings intermediate between mind and matter, they have never been able to persuade others of it, and probably entertained no such I)crsuasion themselves. But if all beings which are within the sphere of our knowledge be re- ferrible to these two ideas, where is the person who is bold ciiough to atlirm, that there are in fact no ollier.s? Where is the man who dares to maintain, that the creation of bodies, and that of spirits, have exhausted the omnipotence of the Creator? Who shall presume to affirm, that this infinite intelligence, to whom the uni- verse is indebted for its existence, could find only two ideas in his treasures? May it not be possible that the blessed in heaven, liave the idea of certain beings which possess no manner of relation to any thing of which we have a conception upon eartk' May it not bo possible that God impressed this idea on tlie soul of St. Paul' May not this be one of the reasons of the impossibility to which he is reduced, of describing what he had seen? For when we speak to other men, we go on the supposition that they have souls similar to our own, endowed witii the same faculties, enriched with tlic same sources of thought. We possess certain signs, certain words to express our con- ceptions. We oblige our fellow men to retire witiiin the:nselvcs, to follow up their principles, to examine their notions. It is thus we are enabled to communicate our notions to each other. But this is absolutely impracticable witii regard to tliose beings who may be known to the blessed above. There is in this respect, no notion in common to us and them. We have no term by which to express them. God himself alone has the power of impressing new ideas on the soul of man. All that men can do is to render us attentive to those which we already have, and to assist us in unfolding them. Besides, so long as w^e are upon earth, wo liave but a very imperfect knowledge of the two orders of beings, to which all our know- ledge is confined. Our ideas are incomplete. Wo have only a very imperfect perception of body, and of spirit. We have, 1. Very imperfect ideas of body. And with- out entering licre into the discussion of the endless metaphysical questions of which the subjects admit, and, in order to convey an ex- ample of it, brought down to the level of the meanest capacity, the magnitude of bodies, and their smallness, almost equally exceed our com- prehension. We begin with forming to our- selves the idea of a portion of matter; we di- vide it into minute particles; we reduce it to powder, till the particles become entirely im- percej)tible to our senses. When the senses fail, we have recourse to imagination. Wo subdivide, in imagination, that same portion of matter, particle after particle, till it is reduced to such a degree of minuteness, as to escape imagination, as it had eluded the senses. After the senses and the imagination have been sti-etched to the uttermost, we call in thought to our aid; we consult the idea which we have of matter; we subject it to a new subdivision in thought. Thought transcends imagination and the senses. But after having pursued it to 204 THE RAPTURE OF ST. PAUL. [Ser. LXXVII. a certain point, we find tliought absorbed in its turn, and we feel ourselves equally lost, whether we arc disposed to admit an infiiiilo [jfogression in this division, or whether we are disposed to stop at a certain determinate point. What we have said of the smalhiess of bo- dies, holds equally true of their immensity of magnitude. We are able, witii the lielp of the senses of the imagination, and of thought, to increase a mass of matter, to suppose it still greater, to conceive it still exceeding the for- mer magnitude. But after we have acted, ima- gined, reflected; and, after we have risen in thought to a certain degree of extension, were we disjjosed to go on to the concejition of one still greater, we should at length feel ourselves absorbed in the inconceivable magnitude of matter, as it liad eluded our pursuit by its mi- nuteness. So incomplete are our ideas even of matter. And if so, then, 2. How much more imperfect still is our knowledge of what relates to mind! Who ever presumed to unfold all that a spirit is capable of.' Who has ever determined the connexion which subsists within us, between the faculty which feels, and that which reflects? Who has ever discovered the manner in which one spirit is enabled to communicate its feelings and re- flections to another? Who has formed a con- ception of the means by which a spirit becomes capable of acting ui)on a body, and a body upon a spirit? It is to me then demonstrably certain, that we know but in an imperfect manner, the very things of which we have any ideas at all. The blessed in heaven have complete ideas of these; they penetrate into the minutest parti- cles of matter; they discern all the wonders, all the latent springs, all the subtility of the small- est parts of the body, which contain worlds in miniature, an epitome of the great universe, and not less calculated to excite admiration of the wisdom of the Creator:* they traverse that immensity of space, those celestial globes, those immeasurable spheres, the existence of which it is impossible for us to call in question, but whose enormous mass and countless nmltitude confound and overwhelm us. The blessed in heaven know the nature of spirits, their facul- ties, their relations, their intercourse, their laws. But all this is inexplicable. Is any one capable of changing our senses? Is any one capable of giving a more extensive range to our imagina- tion? Is it possible to remove the barriers which limit tiiought? While we arc on the earth, we discern but very imperfectly the relations which subsist even be- tween the things wliicli we do know. Contract- ed, incomplete as our ideas are, we should, ne- vertheless, make some i)rogress in our research- es after truth, had we the power of reflecting, of recollection, of fixing our attention to a cer- tain degree, of comparing beings with each other, and thus advancing from those which we already know, to those with which we are hitherto uuaciiuaiiitcd. Men arc more or less intelligent, according as they arc in the habit of being more or less attentive. A man brought up in the midst of noise, in tumult; a man * For a farlhtr illuslrali.m of (li;j.cl, the Fhilnsnpliiral and Clirisliim reader is riftrreJ to ilic 1,1-Uer» of KuW-r to a (Jcrman Triuccss, Letter 1. vol. i. publiilicd by the Translator of this volume, 1794. whom tumult and noise pursue wherever he goes, is incapable of composed recollection, because carrying always in himself a source of distraction, he becomes incapable of profound reflection upon any one object abstracted from and unconnected with matter. But a philoso- pher accustomed to meditate, is able to follow up a principle to a degree totally inaccessible to the other. Nevertheless, whatever a man's attainments may be in the art of attention, it must always be contracted within very narrow limits; because we still consist in part, of body; because this body is ever exciting sensations in the soul; because the soul is continually dis- tracted by these sensations; because that, in or- ' der to meditate, there is occasion for a great concourse of the spirits necessary to the sup- port of the body, so that attention wearied out, exhausted, does violence to that body; to such a degree, that if, by the aid of an extraordina- ry concourse of spirits, we should be disposed to exert the brain beyond a certain pitch, the effort would prove fatal to us. The blessed in heaven are not liable to have their attention disturbed by the action of the senses. St. Paul, by means of a supernatural interposition, had his soul, if not separated from the body (for he himself knows not whether his rapture were in the body, or out of the body,) at least emancipated from that con- tinual distraction to which it is subject, in vir- tue of its union with matter. He could be self-collected, attentive, absorbed of the ob- jects which God presented to his mind. He could discern the mutual relation of the de- signs of eternal wisdom, the harmony of the works of God, the concatenation of his pur- poses, the combination of his attributes; sub- lime objects which he could not possibly dis- play to men incapable of that degree of atten- tion, without which no conception can be form- ed of those objects. Does not this first reason, my beloved bre- thren, of our apostle's silence on the subject of the heavenly felicity, already produce on your souls, the etiect at which this discourse is prin- cipally aiming? Has it not already kindled within you an ardent desire to attain that feli- city? Soul of man, susceptible of so many ideas, of such enlarged knowledge, of illumination so unbounded, is it possible lor thee to sojourn without reluctance, in a body wliich narrows thy sphere, and cramps thy nobler faculliea' Philosopher, who art straining every nerve, who givest thyself no rest to attain a degree of knowledge incom])atible with the condition of humanity: geometrician, who, after an incredi- ble expense of thought, of meditation, of re- flection, art able to attain at most the know- ledge of the relations of a circle or of a trian7 gle: tiieologian, who, after so many days of la- bour and nights of watching, hast scarcely ar- rived at the capacity of explaining a few pas- sages of holy writ, of correcting, by an effort, some silly prejudice; wretched mortals, how mucji are you to be pitied! how impotent and inetlectual are all exertions to acquire real knowledge! 1 think 1 am beholding one of those animals, the thickness of whoso blood, tiie grossness of whose humours, the encum- brance of that house with which nature loads them, preventing them from moving with fa- Ser. LXXVIL] THE RAPTURE OF ST. PAUL. 205 cility; I think I am beholding one of tiiosc ani- mals, striving to move over an immense space in a little, little hour. He strains, he bustles, he toils, he flatters himself with having made a mighty progress, he exults in the thouglit of attaining the end which he had proposed. The hour elapses, and the progress which he has made is a mere nothing, compared with the immensity of the space still untrodden. Thus, loaded with a body replenished with gross humours, retarded by matter, we are able, in the course of the longest life, to acquire but a very slender and imperfect degree of know- ledge. This body must drop: this spirit must disengage itself before it can become capable of soaring unencumbered, of penetrating into futurity, and of attaining that height and depth of knowledge which the blessed in hea- ven possess. Not only from revelation do we derive these ideas, not even from reason, in its present high state of improvement; they were entertained in the ancient pagan world. We find this sub- ject profoundly investigated, I had almost said exhausted in the Phaedon of Plato. Socrates considers his body as the greatest obstacle in tlie way of seeking after truth. And this brings to ray recollection the beautiful expression of a certain Anchorite, to the same purpose; exten- uated, infirm, sinking under a load of years, on the point of expiring, he breaks out into singing. He is asked. Wherefore singcst thou? " Ah! I sing," says he, " because 1 see that ■wall tumbling down, which hinders me from beholding the face of God." Yes, this body is a wall which prevents our seeing God. Fall down, fall down, interposing invidious vv-all: fall down impenetrable wall, and then wo shall see God. But to man in his present state, to man loaded with a body like this, the illumina- tion cff the blessed in heaven is among the things which are unspeakable. -2. The blessed in heaven are prompted by inclination the most noble and refined; a defect of taste prevents our adopting and enjoying the same inclinations. All tastes are not similar. Men agree tole- rably well in the vague notions of honour, of pleasure, of generosity, of nobility. But that which appears pleasure to one, is insupportable to another; that which appears noble, generous to one, appears mean, grovelling, contempti- ble to another. So that the idea which you might suggest to your neighbour, of a pleasant and desirable mode of living, might, in all pro- bability, convey to him ideas of life the most odious and disgusting. Who is able to make a man plunged in busi- ness to comprehend, that there is pleasure in- expreseible in studying truth, in making addi- tions to a stock of knowledge, in diving into mysteries.' Who is able to persuade a miser, that there is a delight which nothing can equal, in relieving the miserable, in ministermg to their necessities, in sharing fortunes with them, and thus, to use the expression of Scripture, to draw nigh to a man's " own flesh.'" Isa. Iviii. 7. Who is able to convince a grovelling and dastardly soul, that there is joy to be found in pursuing glory through clouds of smoke and showers of iron, in braving instant and certain dangers, in bidding defiance to almost inevita- ble death.' In general, what arguments are suf- ficient to convince a worldling, that the purest and most perfect delights are to be enjoyed in exercises of devotion, in those efl'usions of the heart, in that emptying us of ourselves, of which the saints of God have given us such warm recommendations, and such amiable ex- amples? These are the things of the spirit of God, which the natural man receiveth not, be- cause they are spiritually discerned," 1 Cor. ii. 14: because he is destitute of that taste, wliicii alone can enable him to relish their charms. Now, my brethren, although the love of God be the principle of all the exalted virtues possessed by the saints in glory, as well as by those who remain still on the earth; although both agree in this general and vague notion, that to love God is the sublimity of virtue; nevertheless, there is a distance so inconceiva- ble, between the love which we have for God on the earth, and that which inspires the bless- ed in heaven, that inclinations entirely differ- ent result from it. We know God very imperfectly while we are upon the earth, and our love to him is in proportion to the imperfection of our know- ledge. To come to his holy temple, to hear- ken to his .vord, to sing his praises, to admin- ister and to partake of his sacramental ordi- nances; to pant after a union of which we can- not so much as form an idea, to practice the virtues which our present condition imposes; such is the taste which that love inspires; such are the particular inclinations which it excites in our souls. After all, how often are those feelings blunted by prevailing attachment to the creature? How often are they too faint to animate us to engage in those exercises? How often do we present ourselves before God, like victims dragged reluctantly to the altar? How often must a sense of duty supply the want of inclination, and hell opening under our feet, produce in our souls the eflects which ought to flow from the love of God purely? But, be it as it may, our love, so long as we continue here below, can go no further than this. That complete devotcdness to God, those voluntary sacrifices, that sublimity of virtue which refers every thing to God and to him alone, are wholly unknown to us; we have neither ideas to conceive them ourselves, nor terms in which to convey them to the minds of others. The blessed in heaven know God perfectly, and have a love to him proportioned to the perfection of that knowledge, and inclinations proportioned to that love. We know what may be impressed on the heart of man, by the idea of a God known as supremely wise, as supremely powerful, as supremely amiable. The blessed in heaven take pleasure in exer- cises which Scripture describes in language adapted to our present capacities. To this purpose are such as the following expressions, " To cast their crowns before the throne," Rev. iv. 10; "to behold always the face of their father which is in heaven," Matt, xviii. 10, as courtiers do that of their sovereign: to " cover their faces" in his presence, Isa. vi. 2; " to sing a new song before the throne," Rev. 206 THE RAPTURE OF ST. PAUL. [Ser. LXXVII. xiv. 3; to fly at his command with the rapidity of tlio "wind and of a flame of fire," Heb. i. 7; to "cry one to another, Holy, holy, holy, is the Lord of hosU," Isa. vi. 3; to burn, to bear the name of Serapkiin, that is, burning with zeal. These are cinblenis presented to our imagination. The thing itself cannot be brought down to the level of our capacity. We are ignorant of the effect, because the cause is far beyond our comprehension. We are strangers to the joy flowing from it, because we want the taste which alone can enable us to relish such delights. Nay more, with the taste which we have upon the earth, such and such a joy of tiie blessed above would appear the severest of punishments to the greatest of saints among us. The essence of the felicity of saints in glory consists in loving God only, and all other things in reference to God. The senti- ments by which they are animated relatively to other beings, are not sentiments of blood, of the spirits, of temperament, like those by which we are actuated here below, they are regulated by order; they refer all to God alone: the blessed above are affected with the felicity and the misery of others, only in so far as these relate to the great moving principles by wliich they are governed. But that felicity depicted to men upon earth, and applied to particular cases, would appear to them a real punishment. Could a father relish a felicity which he was told he could not possibly share with his child? Could the friend enjoy tranquillity, were he haunted with the thought, that the friend of his heart lay groaning under chains of dark- ness? Have we so much love for order; are we sufficiently disposed to refer all our incli- nations to God, so as to have that taste, which considers objects as amiable and interesting, only as they have a relation to that order, and to that glory of the Creator? And do we not feel, that a felicity relative to a taste which wc do not possess, nay, opposite to that which we now have, is a felicity unspeakable. 3. The third notion which we suggested to you, of the heavenly felicity, is that of semible pleastire. A defect of faculty prevents our perception of their pleasures. Be not surprised that we introduce sensa- tions of pleasure, into the ideas of a felicity perfectly pure, and perfectly conformable to the sanctity of him who is the author of it. Do not suspect that we are going to extract from the grossly sensual notions of Mahomet, the representation which wc mean to give you of the paradise of God. You hear us frequently declaiming against the pleasures of sense. But do not go to confound things under pre- tence of perfecting them; and under the ailuc- tation of decrying sensible pleasures, let us not consider as an imperfection of the soul of man, the power which it has to enjoy them. No, my brethren, it is, on tlie contrary, one of its highest perfections to bo susceptible of those sen.sations, to possess the faculty of scenting the perfume of flowers, of relisiiing the savour of meats, of delighting in tlie harmony of sounds, and so of the other objects of sense. If we declaim against your pleasures, it is bo- cause you frequently sacrifice pleasures the most sublime, to such as arc pitiful and in- significant; pleasures of everlasting duration, to those of a moment. If we declaim against your pleasures, it is because the attachment which you feel for those of the earth, engages you to consider them as tiie sovereign good, and prevents your aspiring after that abundant portion, which is laid up for you in heaven. If wo declaim against your pleasures, it is because you regard the creatures through which they are communicated, as if they were the real authors of them. You ascribe to the element of fire the essential property of warm- ing you, to aliments that of gratifying the pa- late, to sounds that of ravishing the ear. You consider the creatures as so many divinities which preside over your happiness; you pay them homage; you prostrate your imagination before them; not reflecting that God alone can produce sensations in your soul, and that all these creatures are merely the instruments and the ministers of his Providence. But the maxim remains incontrovertible; namely, that the faculty of relishing pleasures is a per- fection of our soul, and one of its most glori- ous attributes. But what merits particular attention is, that this faculty which we have of receiving agreea- ble sensations, is extremely imperfect so long as we remain upon the earth. It is restricted to the action of the senses. Its activity is clogged b}' the chains which fetter it down to matter. Our souls are susceptible of innumerable more sensations than we ever can receive in this world. As progress in knowledge admits of infinity, so likewise may progress in the en- joyment of pleasure. In heaven the blessed liave the experience of this. There God ex- erts the plenitude of his power over the soul, by exciting in it the most lively emotions of delight; there his communications are propor- tional to the immortal nature of the glorified spirit. This was produced in the soul of our apostle. " The pleasures which I have tasted," he seems to say, " are not such as your present faculties can reach. In order to make you comprehend what I have felt, I must be en- dowed with the power of creating new laws of the union subsisting between your soul and your body. I must bo endowed with the capacity of suspending those of nature; or rather, I must be possessed of the means of tearing your soul asunder from that body. I must have the power of transporting you in an ecstacy, as I myself was. And considering the state in which you still are, I am persuaded that I shall represent to you what my feelings were much better, by telling you that they are things unspeakable, than by attempting a descrii)tion of them. For when the point in ose upon themselves, even such of them as are most steadil}' attached to the earth, of declaring that tiiey feel an earnest desire to leave it. But a man who, through life, has been busied about eternity, whose leading aim was to secure a hapi)y eternity, who has, as it were, anticipated the jileasures of eternity, by habits of devotion; a man who has been absorbed of those ideas, who has fed upon them; a man who having de- voted a whole life to those sacred employments, observes the approach of death with joy, meets it with ardent desire, zeal, transport, such a man displays notiiing to excite suspicion. And is not such a state worthy of being en- vied' This is the manner of death which I ask of thee, O my God, when, after having served thee in the sinctnary, like the high priest of old, thou slialtbe pleased, of thy great mercy, to admit me into the holy of holies. This is the manner of death which I wish to all of you, my beloved hearers. God grant that each of you may be enabled powerfully to inculc-.te upon his own mind, this great principle of religion, tiiat there is a third hea- ven, a paradise, a world of bliss over our heads! God grant that each of you may attain the lively persuasion, that this is the only desirable felicity, the only felicitj' worthy of God to be- stow, and of man to receive! God grant that each of you, in meditation, in prayer, in those happy moments of tiie Christian "life in which God communicates himself so intimately to his creatures, may enjoy the foretastes of that felicity; and thus, instead of fearing that death which is to put you in possession of so many blessings, you may contemplate it with holy joy and say, " tliis is the auspicious mo- ment which I have so long wished for, which my soul has been panting after, which has been the burden of so many fervent prayers: Lord, now lettest thou thy servant depart in peace, for mine eyes have seen thj' salvation." May God in mercy grant it to us all. To him be honour and glory for ever. Amen. SERMON LXXVIII. ON NUMBERING OUR DAYS.» PART I. Psalm xc. 12. So teach us to number our days, that we may ap- ply our hearts xinto wisdom. Through what favour of indulgent heaven does this church nourish in its bosom members sufficient to furnish out the solemnity of this day, and to compose an assembly so numerous and respectable.' Through what distinguish- ing goodness is it, that you find 3'ourselves with your children, with your friends, with * Delivered in the church of RoUerdani, oa New Year's day, 1727. 210 ON NUMBERING OUR DAYS. [Ser. LXXVIII. your fellow-citizens; no, not all of them, for the mourning weeds in which some of you are clothed, plainly indicate, that death has robbed us, in part of them, in the course of tiie year which is just terminated. But through what distinguishing goodness is that you find your- selves, with your children, with your friends, with your fellow-citizens, collected together in this sacred place.' The preachers who filled the spot which I have now the honour to occupy, and whose voice resounded through this temple at the commencement of the last year, derived, from the inexhaustible fund of human frailty and infirmity, motives upon motives to excite ap- prehension that you might not behold the end of it. They represented to you the fragility of the organs of your body, which the slightest shock is able to derange and to destroy: the dismal accidents by which the life of man is incessantly threatened; the maladies, without number, which are either entailed on us by the law of our nature, or which are the fruit of our intemperance; the uncertainty of hu- man existence, and the narrow bounds to which life, at the longest, is contracted. After having filled their mouths with argu- ments drawn from the stores of nature, they had recourse to those of religion. They spake to you of the limited extent of the patience and long sutFering of God. They told you, that to each of us is assigned only a certain number of days of visitation. Tliey thundered in your ears such warnings as these: " Gather yourselves together, yea gather together, O na- tion not desired; before the decree bring forth before the fierce anger of the Lord come upon you," Zeph. ii. 1,2. " 1 will set a plumb line in the midst of my people: I will not again pass by them any more," Amos vii. 8. " Yet forty days and Nineveh shall be overthrown: yet forty days and Nineveh shall be overthrown," Jonah iii. 4. How is it possible that we should have es- caped, at the same time, the miseries of nature, and the fearful threatenings of religion.' And to repeat my question once more, through what favour of indulgent heaven does this church nourish in its bosom members sufiicient to furnish out the solemnity of this day, and to compose an assembly so numerous and re- spectable.' It is to be presumed, my brethren, that the principle which has prevented our improve- ment of the innumerable benefits with which a gracious Providence is loading us, prevents not our knowledge of the source from which they flow. It is to be presumed, that the first emotions of our hearts, when we, this morning, opened our eyes to behold the light, have been such as formerly animated holy men of God, when they cried aloud, amidst the residue of those whom the love of God had delivered from the plagues inflicted by his justice, in the days of vengeance: " It is of the Lord's mer- cies that we are not consumed, because his compassions fail not: they are new every morn- ing," Lam. iii. 22, 23. "Except the Lord of hosts had left unto us a very small remnant, we should have been as Sodom, and we should have been like unto Gomorrah," Isa. i. 9. Wo! wo! Anathema upon anathema! be to him who sliall dare henceforth to abuse . . . But no, let us not fulminate curses. Let not sounds so dreadful affright the ears of an au- dience like this. Let us adopt a language more congenial to the present day. We come to beseech you, mj' beloved brethren, by those very mercies of God to which you are indebt- ed for exemption from so many evils, and for the enjoyment of so many blessings: by those very mercies which have this day opened for your admission, the gates of this temple, in- stead of sending you down into the prison of the tomb; by those very mercies, by which you were, within these few days, invited to the table of the Eucharist, instead of being sum- moned to the tribunal of judgment; by these tender mercies we beseech you to assume sen- timents, and to form plans of conduct, which may have something like a correspondence to what God has been pleased to do in your behalf. And thou, God Almighty, the Sovereign, the Searcher of all hearts! thou who movest and directest tliem which ever way thou wilt! vouchsafe. Almighty God, to open to us the hearts of all this assembly, that they may yield to the entreaties which we address to them in thy name, as thou hast been thyself propitious to the prayers which they have presented to thee. Thou hast reduced "the measure of our days to an hand breadth:" Ps. xxxix. 5, and the meanest of our natural faculties is sufficient to make the enumeration of them: but " so to number our days, as that we may apply our hearts unto wisdom," we cannot suc- cessfully attempt without thy all-powerful aid — " Lord, so teach us to number our days, that we may apply our hearts unto wisdom." Amen. In order to a clear comprehension of the words of my text, it would be necessary for me to have it in my power precisely to indi- cate who is the author of them, and on what occasion they were composed. The psalm, from which they are taken, bears this inscrip- tion, " A prayer of Moses, the man of God." But who was this Moses? And on the sup- position that the great legislator of the Jews is the person meant, did he actually compose it' or do the words of the superscription, " A prayer of Moses, the man of God," amount only to this, that some one has imitated his style, and, in some measure, caught his spirit, in this composition? This is a point not easily to be decided, and which indeed does not admit of complete demonstration. The opinion most venerable from its antiquity, and the most ge- nerally adopted, is, that this psahn was com- posed by the Jewish lawgiver, at one of the most melancholy conjunctures of his life; when after the murmuring of the Israelites, on occa- sion of the report of the spies, God pronounc- ed this tremendous decree: " As truly as I live, all the earth shall be filled with the glory of the Lord .... your carcasses shall fall in this wilderness; and all that were numbered of you, according to your whole number .... shall not come into tlie land, concerning which I sware to make you dwell therein," Num. xiv. 2L 29, 30. If this conjecture be as well founded as it is probable, the prayer under review is the pro- Ser. LXXVIII.] ON NUMBERING OUR DAYS. 211 duction of a heart as deeply affected with grief, as it is possible to be without sinkingf into des- pair. Never did Moses feel himself reduced to such a dreadful extremity, as at this fatal period. It appeared as if there had been a concert between God and Israel to put liis constancy to the last trial. On the one hand, the Israelites wanted to make him responsible for all that was rough and disj)leasing in the paths through which God was pleased to lead them; and it seemed as if God, on the other hand, would likewise hold him responsible for the complicated rebellions of Israel. Moses opposes to this just displeasure of God a buckler which he had often employed with success, namely, prayer. That wiiich he put up on this occasion, was one of the most fervent that can be imagined. But tiierc are situations in which all the fervour, of even the most powerful intercessor, is wholly unavail- ing. There are seasons, when, " though Moses and Samuel stood up before God," Jer. xvi. 1, to request him to spare a nation, the measure of whose iniquity was come to the full, they would request in vain. In such a situation was Moses now placed. Represent to your- selves the deplorable condition of the Israelites, and the feelings of that man, whose leading character was meekness; and who, if we may be allowed the expression, carried that rebel- lious people in the tenderest and most sensible part of his soul: to be excluded from all hope beyond thirty or forty years of life, and to be condemned to pass these in a desert; what a fearful destiny! What course does Moses take? Dismissed, so to speak, banished from the throne of grace, does he however give all up for lost' No, my brethren. He was unable by entreaty to procure a revocation of the sentence pronoun- ced against persons so very dear to him, he limits himself to imploring, in their behalf, wisdom to make a proper use of it. "Thou hast sworn it, great God; and the oalli, which thy adorable lips have pronounced against us, can never be recalled. Thou hast sworn that none of us, who came out of Egypt, shall enter into that land, the object of all our iiopes and prayers. Thou hast sworn that die we must, after having lingered out for forty years, a miserable existence in this wilderness, a habita- tion fitter for ferocious beasts of prey, than for reasonable creatures, than for men whom thou hast chosen, and called thy people. The sighs which my soul has breathed to heaven for a remission are unavailing; the tears which I have shed in thy bosom, have been shed in vain; these hands, once powerful to the combat, these hands which were stronger than thee in battle, these hands against which thou couldst not hold out, which made thee say, " let nic alone, that my wrath may wax hot against them, and that I may consume them," Exod. xxxii. 10; these hands have lost the blessed art of prevailing with God in the conflict! Well, be it so. l.et us die, great God, seeing it is thy sovereign will! Let us serve as victims to thy too just indignation; reduce our life to the shortest standard. But at least, since we had not the wisdom to avail ourselves of the pro- mises of a long and happy life, teach us to live aa becomes persons who are to die so soon. Lord, so teach us to number our days, that wc may a|)ply our hearts unto wisdom." Tliis is a general idea of the end which our text has in view. But let ns enter somewhat more deeply into this interesting subject. Let us make application of it to our own life, which bears a resemblance so striking to that which the cliildren of Israel were doomed to pass in tlie wilderness. Wc are to inquire, I. What is implied in numbering our days. II. What are tlie conclusions which wisdom deduces from that enumeration. I. In order to make a just estimate of our days, let us reckon, 1. Those days, or divisions of time, in which we feel neither good nor evil, neither joy nor grief, and in whicli we practise neither virtue nor vice, and which, for this reason, I call days of nothingness; let us reckon these, and compare them with the days of reality. 2. Let us reckon the days of adversity, and compare them with the days of prosperity. 3. Let us reckon the days of lan- guor and weariness, and compare them with the days of delight and pleasure. 4. Let us reckon the days which we have devoted to the world, and compare them with the days which we have devoted to religion. 5. Finally, let us calculate the amount of the whole, that we may discover how long the duration is of a life consisting of days of nothingness and of reality; of days of prosperity and of adversity; of days of pleasure and of languor; of days devoted to the world, and to the salvation of the soul. 1. Let us reckon the days of nothingness, and compare them with the daj's of reality. I give the appellation of days of nothingness to all that portion of our life in which, as I said, we feel neither good nor evil, neither joy nor grief; in which we practise neither virtue nor vice, and which is a mere nothing with respect to us. In this class must be ranked, all those hours which human infirmity lays us under the ne- cessity of passing in sleep, and which run away with the third part of our life; time, during which we are stretched in a species of tomb, and undergo, as it were, an anticipated death. Happy at the same time in being able, in a death not immediately followed by the judg- ment of God, to bury, in some measure, our troubles, together with our life! In this class must be farther ranked, those seasonsof inaction, and of distraction, in which all the faculties of our souls are suspended, during which we propose no kind of object to thought, during which we cease, in some sense, to be thinking beings; seasons wlwch afford an objection of no easy solution, to the opinion of those who maintain that actual thought is essential to mind; and that from this very consideration, that it subsists, it must actually think. In this class must be farther ranked, all those portions of time which are a burden to us; not because we are under the pressure of some ca- lamity, for tiiis will fall to be considered under another head, but because they form, if I may say so, a wall between us and certain events, which we ardently wish to attain. Such as when we are in a state of uncertainty respect ing certain questions, in which we feel our selves deeply interested, but which must re 212 ON NUMBERING OUR DAYS. [Ser. LXXVIII. main undecided for pome days, for some montlis, for some years. VVc could wisli to suppress all those intervals of our existence, were God to put it in our power. Thus, a child wisiies to attain in a moment, tlie a(re of youth; the younjr man would hasten at once into the con- dition of tiic master of a family; and some- times the father of a family would rush for- ward to tiic period when he .«hould sec the be- loved objects of hiâ aliectiou settled in the world: and so of other cases. In this class we may still rank certain sea- sons of pre|)aration and design: such as the time which wc spend in dressing and undress- ing upon the roail, and in other similar occu- pations, insipid and useless in tliemselves, and to which no importance attaches, but in so far as they are the means necessary of attaining an object more interesting than themselves. Reckon, if you can, what is the amount of this first class of our days; compare them with what we have called days of reality. Who« ever will take the trouble to make such a cal-' culation with any degree of exactness, must be constrained to acknowledge, that a man who says he has lived threescore years, has not lived twenty complete: because, though he has in truth passed threescore years in the world, forty of these stole away in listlessness and inaction, and during this period, he was as if he had not been. This is the first enumera- tion, the enumeration of days of nothingness compared with days of reality. 2. Let us reckon the daxjs of adversity, and compare tiiem with the days of prosperity. To what a scanty measure would human life be reduced, were we to sul)tract from it those seasons of bitterness of soul which God seems to have appointed to us, rather to furnish an e.xercisc to our patience, than to make us taste the pleasures of living. What is life to a man, who feels himself condenmed to live in a state of perpetual sepa- ration from persons who are dear to him? Col- lect into one and the same house, honours, riches, dignities; let the tables be loaded with a profusion of dainties; display the most mag- nificent furniture; let all tliat is exquisite in music be provided; let every human delight contribute its aid: all that is necessary to render all these insipid and disgusting, is the absence of one beloved object, say a darling child. What is life to a man who has become infa- mous, to a man wiio is execrated by his fellow- creatures, who dares not appear in public, lest his ears should be stunned with the voice of malediction, thundering in every direction upon his head? What is life to a man deprived of health; a man delivered over to the physicians; a man reduced to exist mechanically, who is nourished by merely studied aliments, who digests only according to the rules of art, who is able to 8up|)ort a or, could liardly fail to have put this question to tlicir consciences, wlicn oniployeii in self-cxannnation, preparatory to that soleuni service: U'/iii/ pnijtitrtwn of mij time luvt hem e^itrn to Hod/ ti'liut fiioportion of it has been pi^en to the world.' And it is sulli- cient barely to propose the discussion of these questions, to come to this melancholy conclu- Hion: That the jiortion of our life, which alono deserves to ho considered as containing somo- thiiifj solid and suhstantial, 1 mean iTie j)or- tion whicli has been >rivon to (îod, is of a du- ration so short as to he almost imperceptihle, when compared with the years which the world lias engrossed. 6. 1 proceed to the last computation pro- posed. What is the amount of tliis total of iiuinan life which wo have thus arraiiired in ditlerent columns? What is the sum of this compound account of days of notliingness and days of reality; of days of i)ros])erity and days of atlliction; of days of languor and days of delight-, of days devoted to the world, and days devoted to religion? My brethren, il is God, it is God alone, who holds our times in liis hand, to ado|)t the idea of the prophet, Ps. xxxi. 15; ho alone can make an accurate cal- culation of them. And as he alone has fixed the term of our life, he only is likewise capable of knowing it. It is not absolutely impossible, however, to asccriain what shall be, in respect of time, the temporal destination of those who lioar me this day. Let me su|)pose that the |)rosent solonmity has drawn togetiior an us- MMiibly of eighteen hundred persons. 1 sub- divide these ISOO into six ditVerent chusses. The 1st consisting of persons from 10 to 20 years of age, amounting to . 2d from 20 to 30 amounting to 3d 4th &th 6th 30 to -to , . 40 to 50 . . 60 to 60 60 and upwards 530 4J0 345 256 160 10 1800 According to the most exact calculation of those who have made such kind of researches their study, each of these clas.scs must, in the course of this year, jiresent to death, a tribute of ten persons. On this computation, sixty of mv present hearers must, before tlie beginning ol another year, Ih3 numbered with the dead. Conformably to the same rate of coni|)utation, in 10 yuarti, of the 1800 now present there will remain 1210 la 20 years, only 830 In 30 480 In 40 2.10 In 60 years, no more will lie left than 10 Thiu you see, my brethren, in what a per- petual tlux the human race is. The world is a vait Uio&lre, in which every one appears his moment upon the stage, and in a moment dis- appears. Every successive iiiBtant presents différent scenery, a new decoration. 1 repre- sent these vicis.situdes to myself, under the em- blem of what is felt by a man who is employed in turning over the pages of history. He pores over his book, he beholds on this leaf, one people, one king; he turns it, and lo, other laws, other maxims, other actors, which have no manner of relation to what preceded them! SERMON LXXVIII. ON NUMBERING OUR DAYS. I'ART II. Psalm xc. 12. So teach MS to number our days, that tee may ap- ply our hearts unto tcisdum. We have seen to what a measure human life is reduced. To be made sensible of this is a very high attainment in knowledge; but it is of still higher importunée, thence to de- duce conclusions, which have a tendency to re- gulate the workings of your mind, the emo- tions of your heart, the conduct of your life: and to assist you in this, is 11. The second object whicli we proposed to ourselves in this discourse. This is what the ))ropliet asks of (Jod in the text, this we would earnestly implore in your belmlt', and this prayer wo wish you to adopt for yourselves: " Lord, so teach us to iiuniber our days, that we may apply our hearts unto wisdom." 1. The first conclusion deducible from tlie representation given, is this: the vanity of the life which now is, atfords the clearest proof of the life to come. This proof is sensible, and it possesses two advantages over all tlioso which philosophy supplies, towards demonstrating the immortality of the soul. The proof of our iinniortality, taken from the spirituality of the soul, has, perhaps, a great deal of solidity; but it is neitiier so sensible, nor so incontestable. I am lost when I attemi>t to carry my metaphy- sical 8])oculatioiis into the interior of substan- ces. 1 do not well know what to reply to on opponent who pres.ses me with such questions as tiiese: " Do you know every tiling that a substance is capable of? Are your intellectual powers such as to qualify you to pronounco this decision. Such a substance is capable only of this, and such another only of riiiciples, of deducing conse- quences, of knowing its Creator, and of serv- ing him, should have been created for tlie pur- Ser. LXXVIII.] ON NUMBERING OUR DAYS. 215 po80 merely of antinp tlio poor part wliich man tills on tlio earlli? I low! tlio potila of tlioKO myriadfl of iiifantH, who dio licforo tlicy arc born, to bo annihilated, after having uniinaliMl, for a few months, an embryo, a. mass of unfi- nished organs, which nature did not diMijn to carry on to perfection? How! liio Ahrahiiins, the MososoH, the Davids, and the muitiludeH of those other holy men, to whom God made 80 many and such çracious promisim, shall they cease to he, after having been "strangers and pilgrims upon the earth?" Mow! that "cloud of witnesses," who, rather than deny the truth, submitted to bo "stoned," to he " sawn asun- der," to bo " tempted," to be "slain with tiie sword," who " wandcn^d ai)out in sheep-skins, and goat-skins, being destitute, alllicled, tor- mented?" Ileb. xi. I;5. 37. How! that "cloud of witnesses" evaporate into smoke, and tlio souls of martyrs piuss into annihilation amidst tho tortmes irillicted by an (vteeutiontir! Ye confessors of .Jesus Christ, who have borne his reproach for thirty ycMirs together, who have yielded u|i your back to the rod of a tormentor, who have lived a life more painful than death in its most horrid form! You to have no other reward of all your labours and sutferings, ex- cept those poor gratuities which man bestows after you have finished your career? How! those noble faculties of soul bestowed on man, merely to sit for a few years upon a tribunal, for a few years to dip into arts and sciences? . . . What brain could digest the thought! What subtility of metaphysical research, what ingeniousness of sophistry, can enfeeble the proof derived from su(;h appeafanccs as tiiese! O brevity of tho present economy! O vanity of human life! O miseries u|)on miseries witli which my days are depressed, distracted, em- poisoned, I will complain of you no longer! 1 behold light the most cheering; tho most trans- porting, ready to burst forth from the bosom of that gloomy night into which you have plunged me! You conduct mo to tiie grand, the animating doctrine of innnortality! Tho vanity of tho present life, is tho proof of tho life which is to come. This is our first con- clusion. 2. Tho second conclusion we deduce is this: neither the good things, nor tho evil, of a life which passes away with so nmch rajiidity, ought to make a very deep impression on a soul whose duration is eternal. Do not tax mo of extravagance. I have no intention to preach a hyperbolical morality, 1 do not mean to maintain such a wild position us this, " That there is no reality in eillier the enjoymenta or tho distresses of life; that there is a mixture in every human condition, which reduces all to equality; that the man who sits at a plenti- ful table is nut a whit happier than tho man who begs his bread." This is not our gospel. Teujporal evils are unquestionably real. Were this life of very long duration, 1 would deem tho condition of the rich man incomparably preferable to that of the poor; that of tlio man who commands, to that of him who obeys; that of one who enjoys perfect health, to that of one who is stretched on a bed of languish- ing. Hut however real the enjoymcnis and the distresses of life may bo in themselves, their transient duration invalidates that reality. You, who liavo passed thirty years in afllliction! thiTo aro thirty years of painful existence va- nishtul away. You, whoso woes have been lengthened out to forty years! there are forty years of a life of sorrow vanished away. And you, who, for these thirty, forty, filty years past, have been living at ease, and drowned in pl(;asuru! What is become of those years? The time which both the one and the other li;is yet In live, is scarcely worth the reckoning, and is Hying away with tho sariK! ra|Mdity. If the brevity of lift) does not render all <;ondi- ticjiis eipml, it fills up, at least, the greatest part of that abyss which cupidity had placed betw(!cn them. Lot us reform our ideas; let us correct our stylo: do not let us call a man happy because he is in health; do not let us cull a sick man miserable: let us not call that absolute felicity, which is only Iwrrowed, tran- sitory, ready to llee away with life itself. Im- mortal beings ought to make innnortality tho standard by wliic-h to regulate their ideas of happiness and misery. Neither the good things, nor tho evil, of a life so transient, ought to make a very deep impression on a soul whoso duration is eternal. This was our second con- clusion. 3. Dut if I be immortal, what have I to do among the dying? If 1 be destined to a never- ending dur:Uion, wherefore am I doomed to drag out a miserable life upon the earth? If the blessings and the miseries of this life aro so disproportionate to my natural greatness, wherefore havo they been given to me? Wherefore does the C'reator take a kind of pleasure in laying snares for my innocence, by presenting to mo delights which may become tho source of everlasting misery; and by con- ducting me to eternal felicity, through tho sacrifice of every present comfort' This dif- ficulty, my brethren, this pressing dilliculty leads us to A third conclusion: this life is a season of probation, assigned to us for the purpose of making our choice between everlasting happi- ness or mi.sery. This life, considered as it is in ilaelf, is an object of contempt. We may say of it, with the sacred writer, that it is " a shadow wliich posseth away;" " a vanity," which has nothing real and solid; " a flower which fadeth;" " griiss" which withers and is cut down; " a vapour" which dis.«olvcs into air; " a dream" which leaves no trace after the sleep is gone; " a thought" which presents it- self to the mind, but abides not; " an aj)pari- tion, a nothing" before God. But when we contemplate this life, in its re- lation to the great end which God proposes to himself in bestowing it upon us, let us form exalted ideas of it. Let us carefully compute all ita subdivisions; let us husband, with scru- pulous attention, all the instants of it, even tho most minute and imperceptible; let us regret the precious moments which we have irreco- verably lost. For this shadow which passes, this vanity which haa nothing real and solid, this Jloicer which fades, this grass which is cut down and withers, this vapour which melts into air, this forgotten dream, this transient tlwughlf this apparition destitute of body and substance, this nothing, this span of life, so vile and con- temptible, is time which wo must redeem, Eph. 216 ON NUMBERING OUR DAYS. [Ser. LXXVIII. V. 16; " a time of visitation" which we must knmc, Lake xix. 44; "a time accepted, a day of Balvation" which we must improve, 2 Cor. vi. 2; a period of " forbearance, and long-suf- fering" which we must embrace, Rom. ii. 4; a time beyond whicii " there shall be time no longer," Rev. x. 6, because after life is finished, tears are unavailing, sighs are impotent, pray- ers are disregarded, and repentance is ineffec- tual. We proceed to deduce a 4. Fourth conclusion. A life through which more time has been devoted to a present world, than to preparation for eternity, corresponds not to the views which the Creator proposed to himself, when he placed us in this economy of expectation. We were placed in this state of probation, not to sleep, to eat, and to drink; we were placed here to prepare for eternity. If, therefore, we have devoted more of our time to such functions as these, than to prepa- ration for eternity; if, at least, we have not adapted these functions to the leading object of eternity; if we have not been governed by that maxim of St. Paul, 1 Cor. x. 31: " Whe- ther ye eat or drink, or whatsoever ye do, do all to the glory of God," we certainly have not conformed to the views which the Creator pro- posed to himself, in placing us under this eco- nomy of expectation and trial. We were placed in this state of probation, not merely to labour for the provision and es- tablishment of our families; we are placed here to prepare for eternity. If, therefore, we have devoted more of our time and attention to the provision and establishment of our families, than to preparation for eternity; if, at least, we have not adapted to the leading object of eter- nity, our solicitudes and exertions in behalf of our families, we certainly have not conformed viated from the views of his Creator, present to God this day, a heart overflowing with gra- titude, that this tremendous sentence has not yet been fulminated against him: " Give an account of thy stewardship," Luke xvi. 2. It is for this that life ought to be prized as infi- nitely dear; for this we have unspeakable cause to rejoice, that we still behold the light of this day. " I have been in the world these thirty, forty, threescore years; and ever since I arrived at the exercise of reason, and felt the power of conscience, I have enjoyed every advant:ige to- wards attaining the knowledge, and exhibiting the practice of religion. Every display of mercy, and every token of fatherly displeasure have been employed to reclaim me. Not a book written to convince the understanding, but what has been put into m}' hands; not a sermon calculated to move and to melt the heart, but what has been addressed to my ears. My corruption has proved too powerlul for them all. My life has been a tissue, if not of enormous crimes, at least of dissipation and thoughtlessness. If at any time I have shaken off my habits of listlessness and inaction, it was usually only to run into excesses, which have already precipitated so many precious souls into hell. When visited with sickness, when death seemed to stare me in the face, I seemed to behold, collected into one fatal moment, all the sins of my life, and all the dreadful pun- ishments which they deserve. I carried a hell within me; I believed myself to be encom- passed by demons and flames of fire; I became my own executioner, when I called to remem- brance that wretched time which I had lavish- ed on the world and its lying vanities; and I would have sacrificed my life a thousand and to the views which the Creator proposed to him- a thousand times to redeem it, had God put it self, in placing us under this economy of ex- pectation and trial. We were placed in this state of probation, not merely to govern states, to cultivate arts and sciences; we are placed he»e to prepare for eternity. If, therefore, we have not direct- ed all our anxieties and exertions, on such sub- jects as these, to the leading object of eternity, we certainly have not conformed to the views which the Creator proposed to himself, in plac- ing us under this economy of expectation and trial. Imagine not that we shall be judged according to the ideas which we ourselves are pleased to form of our vocation. Wo are un- der an economy of expectation and trial: time then is given us, that we may prepare for eter- nity. A life, therefore, through which more time and attention have been devoted to the pursuits of this world, than to preparation for eternity; corresponds not to the views which the Creator proposed to himself, when he placed us under this economy of expectation and trial. This is the fourth conclusion. 5. We go on to deduce a fifth. A sinner who has not conformed to the views which God proposed to himself in placing him under an economy of discipline and probation, ought to pour out his soul in thanksgiving, that God is graciously pleased still to lengthen it out. Let each of you who, on taking a review of in my power; I would have given the whole world to bring back but one poor moment of that precious time which I had so prodigally squandered away; and God in mercy ineffable, is still prolonging that day of visitation." 6. Finally, we farther deduce a sixth conclu- sion. Creatures, in whose favour God is pleased still to lengthen out the day of grace, the economy of long-suffering, which they have improved to so little purpose, ought no longer to delay, no not for a moment, to avail them- selves of a reprieve so graciously intended. Creatures who stand on the brink of the grave, and who have too just ground to fear that they should be thrust into hell, were the grave im- mediately to swallow them up, ought instantly to form a new plan of life, and instantly to set about the execution of it. I conjure you, my brethren, by the gospel of this day, I conjure you by all that is powerful, all that is interest- ing, all that is tender, in the solemnity which we are now assembled to celebrate, and in that of last Lord's day: I conjure you to enter in good earnest into the spirit of this reflection, to keep it constantly in view through every instant of the years which the patience of God may still grant you, to make it as it were the rule of all your designs, all your undertak- ings, of all your exertions. Without this we can do nothing for you. The most ardent his own life, must bear the dreadful testimony i prayers which we could address to heaven on against biouelf, that be has most miserably de- 1 your behalf, this day, would be as ineffectual Ser. LXXVIII.] ON NUMBERING OUR DAYS. 217 as those which Moses formerly presciileJ in behalf of the children of Israel, to obtain a revocation of that awful doom; " I sware in my wrath, that they should not enter into my rest," Ps. xcv. 11. Hut if, on the contrary, you are wise to admit tiie word of exhortation, we are warranted to hold up our wislies for your salvation, as so many promises sealed, with that seal of God wiiich standcth sure, and immediately emanating from the mouth of that God, the Lord who changeth not. APPLICATION. I have emhraced with avidity, my dearly beloved brctliren, the oi)portunity of contribut- ing to the present solemnity, to come to you at a juncture so desirable, and to bring to you the word of life, at a season when I am at li- berty to unfold to you a heart wliich has ever been penetrated with a respectful tenderness for this city and for this church. Deign to ac- cept my affectionate good wishes, with senti- ments conformable to those which dictated them. Venerable magistrates, to whose hands Pro- vidence has committed the reins of govern- ment, you are exalted to a station which our devotions contemplate with respect! But we are the ministers of a Master whose commands control the universe; and it is from the inex- haustible source of his greatness, of his riches, of his magnificence, that we draw the bene- dictions which we this day pronounce upon your august heads. May God vouchsafe to inspire you with that dignity of sentiment, that magnanimity, that noble ambition, which enable the sovereigns to whom he has entrust- ed the sword of his justice, to found on the basis of justice, all their designs, and all their fortune. The religion wliich we profess, per- mits us not to aspire after those proud titles, those posts of distinction, those splendid reti nucs which confound the ministers of temporal princes with the ministers of that Jesus whose kiui^dom is not of this world. But whatever we lose with respect to those advantages which dax/le the senses, is am])ly compensated to us in real and solid blessings; at least, if we our- selves understand that religion which we make known to others, and if we have a due sense of that high vocation with which we are ho- noured of God. May that God, who has con- ferred this honour upon us, vouchsafe to endow us with that illumination, and with those vir- tues, witliout which it is impossible for us to discharge the duties of it in a becoming man- ner! May he vouchsafe to bestow upon us that courage, that intrejiidity, which are necessary to our effectually resisting the enemies of our holy reformation; nay, those too, who, under the name of reformed, do their utmost to thwart and to undermine it! May he vouch- safe to support us amidst the incessant difficul- ties and oppositions which we have to encoun- ter, through the course of our ministry, and to animate us by the idea of those supereminent degrees of glory, which await tiiose, who, after having " turned many to righteousness, shall shine as t!,e brightness of the firmament, and as the stars for ever and ever!" INIerchants, ye who are the support of this Republic, and who maintain in the midst of us prosperity and abundance, may God vouchsafe to continue this blessing upon your commerce! May God cause the winds and the waves, na- ture and the elements, to unite their influences in your favour! But above all, may God vouchsafe to teach you the great art of " plac- decisions! May it please God to inspire you ing your heart tliere where your treasure is; with that charity, that condescension, that affa- bility, which sink the master in tiie father! May it please God to inspire you with that humility, that self-abasement, which engage Christian magistrates to deposit all their power at the feet of (iod, and to consider it as their highest glory to render unto him a faithful ac- count of their administration! That account is a solemn one. You are, to a certain degree, responsible, not only for the temporal, but for the eternal happiness of this people. The eternal happiness of a nation frequently de- pends on the measures adopted by their gover- nors, on the care which they employ to curb licentiousness, to suppress scandalous publica- tions, to procure respect for the ordinances of religion, and to supply the church with on- to make to yourselves friends of the mammon of unrighteousness;" to sanctify your prosperi- ty by your charities, especially on a day like this, on which every one ought to prescribe to himself the law of paying a homage of charity to God who is love, and whose love has spared us to behold the light of this day! Fathers and mothers, with whom it is so de- licious for me to blend myself, under an ad- dress so deeply interesting, may God enable us to view our children, not as beings limited to a present world, but as beings endowed with an immortal soul, and formed for eternity! May it please God to impress infinitely more upon our hearts the desire of one day behold- ing them among the blessed in the kingdom of heaven, than going on and prospering on the lightened, zealous, and faithful pastors. But I earth! May God grant us the possession of magistrates who propose to themselves views i objects so endeared to the very close of life, of such extensive utility and importance, are objects so necessary to the enjoyment of life! warranted to expect from God, all the aid ne- May God vouchsafe, if he is pleased to take cessary to the accomplishment of them. And them away from us, to grant us that submission this aid, great God, we presume to implore in to his will, which enables us to support a cala- beiuilf of these illustrious personages! May our I mitv so severe! voice pierce the heavens, may our prayers be ; My dearly beloved bretjiren, this reflection crowned with an answer of peace! Pastors, my. dear companions in the great plan of salvation, ye successors of apostolic men in the edlfy'uig of the body of Christ, and in the u-ork of the ministry! God has set very narrow bounds to what is called in the lan- guage of the world, our advancement and our Vol. II.— 28 chokes my utterance. INIay God vouchsafe to hear all the wishes and prayers which my heart has conceived, and which my lips have utter- ed, and all those which I am constrained to suppress, and which are more in number than the tongue is able to declare! Amen. 218 THE TRUE GLORY OF THE CHRISTIAN. [Ser. LXXIX. SERMON LXXIX. THE TRUE GLORY OF THE CHRIS- TIAN. PART I. Galatians vi. 14. But God forbid that I should glory, save m the cross of our Lord Jesus Christ, by k7»ohi the world is crucified unto me, and I unto the world. The solemnity which in a few days we are going to celebrate, I mean the Ascension of Jesus Christ, displays the triumph of the cross. The Saviour of tiie world ascending in a cloud, received up into heaven amidst the acclama- tions of the church trium{)hant, removes tiie offence given by the Saviour of the world hanging on a tree. The period of the cruci- fixion, I acknowledge, was precisely that in which he carried magnanimity to its most ex- alted pitch. Never did he appear so truly great as when " descended into the lower parts of the earth," Epii. iv. 9; " humbled, made of no reputation, obedient unto death, even the death of the cross," Phil. ii. 7, 8; he accom- plished what was most repulsive to nature, in the plan of redemption. But how difficult is it to recognise heroism, when the hero termi- nates his career upon a scaffold! The darkness which overspread the mystery of the cross, is passing away; the veils which concealed the glory of Jesus Christ, begin to withdraw; heaven, which seemed to have con- spired with earth and with hell to depress and overwhelm him, declares aloud in his favour; his splendour bursts out of obscurity, and his glory from the very bosom of shame: because " he made himself of no reputation, and took upon him the form of a servant; because he humbled himself; because he became obedient unto death, even the death of the cross: there- fore God also hath highly exalted him, and given him a name which is above every name; that at the name of Jesus every knee should bow, of things in heaven, and things in earth, and things under the earth," Phil. ii. 9, 10. What circumstances more proper could we have selected. Christians, to induce you to seek your glory in the cross of your Saviour, than those which display it, followed by so much pomp and magnificence? I am going to pro- pose to you as a model the man who of all others best understood the mystery of the cross: for my part, says he in the words which I have read, " God forbid that I should glory, save in the cross of our Lord Jesus Christ, by whom the world is crucified unto mo, and I unto the world." Let us meditate on this subject with all that application of thought which it so justly raeriti. And thou great 'High Priest, " Minister of the true tabernacle! thou holy, harmless, un- de&led, separate from sinners, and made higher than the heavens; set on the right hand of the throne of the Majesty in the heavens," Hcb. vij. 26; viii. 21, graciously look down on this people, now combating under tlie banners of the cross! It is impossible for us to call to re- membrance the great day of thy exaltation, without fixing our eyes upon thee, with those blessed disciples of thine who were the wit- nesses of it, without following thee, as they did .with the bodily organ, and with all the powers of thought, and witiiout crying out, " Draw us. Lord, we will run after thee," Cant. i. 4. But in giving way to such desires, we misunder- stand tiie nature of our vocation. We must combat as thou hast done, in order to triumph WMth thee. Well, be it so! " Teach my hands to war, and my fingers to fight," Ps. cxliv. 1. Teach us to make tiiy cross a ladder, whereon to mount to thy throne. Amen. The text which we have announced, is, as it were, a conclusion deduced from the chapters which precede it. We cannot possibly have a clear comprehension of it, witiiout a general recollection of the whole epistle from which it is taken. St. Paul, in writing to the Galatians, has this principally in view, to revive the spirit of Christianity which he himself had difiused over the whole province of Galatia. Never had preacher greater success than the ministry of our apostle was attended with in this city of the Lesser Asia. He himself gives this ho- nourable testimony in favour of the Galatians, in chap. iv. ver. 15, that "they had received him as an angel of God," and, which is saying still more, " even as Christ Jesus." But the Gauls, of which this people was a colony, have, in all ages, been reproached w'ith the faculty of easily taking impressions, and of losing them with equal facility. The sentiments with which St. Paul had inspired them, sliared the fate of all violent sensations; that is, they were of no great duration. With this he upbraids them in the very beginning of the epistle. I marvel, says he to them, chap. i. 6, " I marvel that ye are so soon removed from him that called you into the grace of Christ, unto another gospel." Mark the expression, removed unto another gospel. We are not possessed of memoirs of the first ages of the church sufiiciently ample to enable us to determine, with precision, who were the authors of a revolution so deplorable. But if we may give credit to two of the earliest his- torians, to whom we are indebted for the most complete accounts which we have of the first fathers of heresy, I mean Philostratus and St. Epipliaiiius, it was Ccrinthus himself, in the first instance, and his disciples afterward, who marred the good seed which St. Paul had sown in the church of Galatia. One thing is certain, namely, that re.sjicct for the ceremonial obser- vances which God himself had prescribed in a manner so solemn, and particularly for the law of circumcision, was the reason, or rather the pretext, of which the adversaries of our apos- tle availed themselves to destroy the fruits of his ministry, by exciting suspicions against the soundness of his doctrine. St. Paul goes to the root of the evil: he conveys just ideas of these ceremonial institutions; he demonstrates, tiiat, however venerable the origin of them might be, and whatever the wisdom displayed in tlieir establishment, they had never been laid down as the essential part of religion, much less still, as the true means of reconciling men to God. We perceive at first sight this design Ser. LXXIX.] THE TRUE GLORY OF THE CHRISTIAN. 219 of the apostle in the words of my text, and througli the wliolo epistle from which tliey are taken. But what is perhaps not so easily discovera- ble in it, but \vhi( il ought to be very carefully observed, is, that as fcit. Paul was niaintaining his thesis açainst opponents of diflerent sorts, 80 he likewise supports it on diflerent princi- ples. Three descriptions of persons argued in favour of the I.eviiical observances. The first did so from a prejudice of birth and education. The second, from an excess of complaisance. The third from a criminal policy. 1. A part of the Jews, who liad been con- verted to Christianity, could not help preserv- ing a respect for the Levitical ceremonies, and wished to transmit the observance of them into the Cliristian church. These were the persons who acted from a prejudice of birth and education. 2. Some of them, more enlightened, out of complaisance to otiicrs, would have wished to retain the practice of those lites. In this class we find no less a person than St. Peter himself, as we learn from the second chapter of this epistle, the eleventh and follow^ing verses; and what is most to be regretted in the case, this apostle fell into such an excess of compliance, that he not only authorised by his example that respect which the Jews had for the Levi- tical institutions; but, being at Antioch when certain Jews were sent thither by St. James, he pretended to break off all intercourse with the Gentile converts to Christianity, because they had not submitted to the ordinance of circumcision; in this he acted from an excessive and timid complaisance. This weakness of St. Peter, to mention by the way, has been laid hold of by one of the most declared enemies of Christianity, I mean the philosopher Porphyry. The reproaches which he vents against the Christians, on this ground, appeared so galling to them, that they had recourse to a pious fraud to defend themselves. They alleged, nay, they perhaps seriously believed, that the person thus branded with timidity was not Peter the apostle, but one Cephas, who, as they are pleased to give out, was of the number of the seventy disciples of Jesus Christ, mentioned in the gospel. A most chimerical supposition! which has been latterly adopted by a celebrated Jesuit,* and which has swelled the catalogue of his extravagances. 3. But if some from prejudice wished to transmit the Levitical ceremonies into Christi- anity, and others from an excess of complai- sance, there was still a third description of per- sons who did so, out of a criminal polic}'. Such were the pagan converts. Respecting which it is necessary to remark, that the Jewish religion was tolerated by the Roman laws; whereas the religion of Jesus Christ was pro- scribed by them, and Christians were thereby exposed to the most violent persecution. This it was which induced the pagan converts to conform to the Levitical ceremonies, tliat they might pass for Jews under this veil of Judaism. A passage of St. Jerome to this purpose de- serves to be here inserted. " Caius Cesar," * Father Hardouin, in his Dissertation on Oallatiaos ii.10. says he,* " AcorsTis and Tiberius enacted laws, by which the Jews dispersed over the Roman empire were authorised to practise the rites of their religion, and the ceremonial insti- tutions transmitted to them from tlieir fathers. All those who were circumcised, though they had embraced Ciiristianity,were considered all over tiie pagan world as Jews; but all those who remained in a state of uncircumcision, while they professedly received the gospel, were equally persecuted by Jews and pagans. There were teachers among them, therefore, who, in order to screen themselves from these persecutions, submitted to be circumcised, and recommended circumcision to their disciples." These are the words of St. Jerome, and they throw much light on what our apostle says in the twelfth verse of the chapter from which I have taken my text. "As many as desire to make a fair siiow in the flesh, they constrain you to be circumcised; only lest they should suffer persecution for t!ie cross of Christ." And as a relaxed morality has always the most nu- merous supporters, we see that in the church of Galatia, the teachers who made the greatest use of this artifice, not only attracted the great- est number of disciples, but likewise made that superiority a source of vain-glorious boasting. Tbiis is the sense of the words which immedi- ately precede our text: " For neither they themselves who are circumcised keep the law; but desire to have you circumcised, that they might glory in your flesh." These were tlie three descriptions of oppo- nents against whom Paul had to maintain the inutility of the observance of the Levitical cere- monial, and to assert the exclusive doctrine of the cross. One of the principal causes of the obscurity of St. Paul's Epistle is this, that it is not always easy to distinguish the genei-al arguments which that apostle advances in them, from certain reasonings of a different kind, which are conclusive only against some particular adversaries. Is it not evident, for example, that all the consequences which he deduces from the history of Hagar, whom he makes the emblem of the ancient dispensation; and from that of Sarah, whom he makes the emblem of the evangelical, could make an impression only on the minds of Jews, who were accustomed to allegory, and who particularly discovered it in the different condition of that wife, and of that handmaid of Abraham; as appears in many passages of Philo, which it would be improper at present to introduce? Now, my brethren, it is impossible to have a clear conception of the Epistles of our apostle, without carefully distinguishing those different adversaries whom ho had to combat, and the different arguments which he employs to con- fute them. Nay, tiiis distinction is the very key which explains to us the diilerent conduct observed by the apostles toward their prose- Ivtes. For they believed themselves obliged, with respect to those who had come over from Judaism, to tolerate that Levitical ceremonial to wliich they were attached by the prejudices of birth; whereas this connivance might have proved dangerous to others who conformed to Hierou. torn. 9. in Calat« Ti. 13. 220 THE TRUE GLORY OF THE CHRISTIAN. [Ser. LXXIX. the practice of it merely from tlie dastardly motive which induced them to disjruise their religion, or to screen themselves from the j)er- secution to wliich it exposed tlieui who gloried in making profession of it. But wiiatever difference there may be in the character of the opponents whom the apostle was combating, and in tiic arguments which he employed to confute tliem, he presses on all of them this principle, on whicl» the whole fa- bric of Christianity rests. The sacrifice which Jesus Christ offered uj), that of his own life, is the only one capable of satisfying the demands of divine justice, awakened to the punishment of human guilt; and to divide the glory of the Redeemer's sacfiftce with the Lev'Uical ceremonial, was, as he e.x])resses it, to preach another gosyel; was to fall from p-ace; was to lose the fruit of all the sufferings endured in the cause of Christianity; was a doctrine worthy of being rejected with execration, were it to be preached even by " an angel from heaven." Our apostle goes still farther; he solemnly protests that no worldly consideration sliould ever have power to make him renounce tliis leading truth of the gospel; that the more it exposed him to hatred and suffering, the more he would rejoice in the knowledge of it, and in making it known to others; in a word, he declares lie will continue to preach the cross, were the consequences to be, that he himself should be nailed to it: " God forbid that I sliould glory, save in the cross of our Lord Jesus Christ, by whom the world is crucified unto me, and I unto the world." This is the general scope of the epistle to the Galatians, particularly of our text, which is the conclusion of it. But it is of importance to descend into a more particular detail. And, in order to throw more light on my subject, I propose, as far as the limits prescribed me permit, to attempt the three following things: I. I shall examine wherein those sentiments of the Christian consist, which enable him to say that " the world is crucified unto him, and he unto the world." II. I shall show tliat in such sentiments as these true glory consists. III. I shall demonstrate that it is the cross of Christ, and the cross of Christ alone,' which can inspire us with these sentiments; from which I shall deduce tiiis farther consequence, that in the cross of Christ alone we can find a just ground of glorying. Vouchsafe us a few moments more of your attention to the elucida- tion of these interesting trutlis. I. What is the disj)osition of mind denoted by these expressions, " the world is crucified unto me; I am crucified unto tiie world?" In order to liave just ideas of tiiis reciiirocal crucifixion, we must comprehend, 1. Tlie nature of it. 2. The degrees. 3. The bitterness. 1. The nature of it. " Tiie world is crucified unto me; I am crucified unto the world:" this is a figurative mode of expressiuii, iini)orliiig a total rupture willi the world. Uistingiiish two different senses in wliich tlie term world may be taken: tlie world of nature, and the world of cupidity. J5y the world of nature we understand that vast assemblage of beings which the almighty arm of Jehovah has formed, but these considered as they are in themselves. By the world of cupidity we understand those self-same beings, considered so far as by our abuse of them, tliey seduce us from the obedi- ence which we owe to the Creator. Of the natural world it is said, Gen. i. 31, " God saw every thing that he had made, and behold it was very good " And St. Paul says, 1 Tim. iv. 4, that " every creature of God is good . . . if it be received with thanksgiving." The Ciiristian does not break with the world in tills first sense of the word. On the contrary, he makes it the object of his frequent medita- tion; he discovers in it the perfections of th« great Being who created it: "The heavens de- clare the glory of God; and the firmament showeth his handy work," Ps. xix. 1. Nay more, he makes it the object of his hope: For the promise, I quote the words of St. Paul, in chap. iv. 13, of his Epistle to the Romans, " For the promise that he should be the heir of the world was made to Abraham: and all things are yours; whether Paul or Apollos, or Cephas, or the world," 1 Cor. iii. 22. . It is the world of cupidity, therefore, that our apostle speaks in the words which I am at- tempting to explain, that world of which it is said, " The world passeth away, and the lust thereof. Love not the world, neither the things that are in the world," 1 John ii. 15. IT. " The friendship of the world is enmity with," or as it might have been rendered, " is hatred to God." This is the world which " is crucified" to the Christian; the Christian " is crucified" to this world. The apostle, in expressing him- self thus strongly, refines upon a form of speech which frequently occurs in Scripture, that of " dying to an object." To die to an object, is, in the style of the sacred authors, to have no farther intercouree with that object. In this sense our apostle says, in chap. ii. of this Epis- tle, ver. 19, "I tlirough the law am dead to the law;" in other words, the genius of severity which predominates in the Mosaic economy, lays me under the necessity of entirely re- nouncing it, " that I might live unto God;" the meaning of wliich evidently is this, that I may have undivided recourse to a dispensation which presents the Deity as more accessible to me. In like manner, " to die to the world of cupidity," or what amounts to the same thing, " to die unto sin," is to renounce sin; " how shall we who are dead to sin live any longer therein.'' likewise reckon ye also yourselves to be dead indeed unto sin: but alive unto (îod, tlirough Jesus Christ our Lord," Rom. vi. 2. 11. 1 am still quoting the words of St. Paul. But as if a violent deatii were more really dying than deatli in a milder form, Scripture, in order to mark more decidedly the sincerity of the rcnuniiation of the world, which is as- cribed to the Christian, is not satisfied with re- presenting him as demi, but holds him uji as crucified to the world of cupidity: " Knowing this, that our old man is crucified with him," Uoni. vi. G. " They who are in Christ have crucified the flesh, with its lusLs;" and in the text, " the world is crucified unto me, and I am crucified unto the world:" that is, illicit cu- I pidity exists no longer with respect to me, and 1 subsist no longer with respect to it. 2. There is, however, a certain degree of I ambiguity in these ideas of " deadness to the ser. lxxix.] the true glory of the christian. 221 world," of " crucifixion to the world," of " a total rupture witli liie world." For this reason it is that wo said, that in order to have just ideas of this disiiosilion of mind, it is not suf- ficient to comprehend the nature of it, but lliat we sliould also understand the gradations of which it admits, if, in order worthily to sus- tain the Cliristian character, an absolute renun- ciation of the world, in the literal sense of the words, were indisimlahly necessary, where is the person, alas! who durst pretend to assume that name? Would it be a Noah? would it be an Abraham? would it be a Moses? would it be a David? would it be a Peter? would it be a Paul? would it bo one of you. Christians of our own days, who seem to have carried piety to its higliest degree of fervour, and " who siiine as liglits in tlie world, in the midst of a crook- ed and perverse nation?" Piiil. ii. 15. Where, then, are those saints to be found, in whom an ill-smothered cupidity emits no sparks? That female is an example of wliat is called virtue, by way of eminence, in her sex; and which, according to the ideas of the age in which wo live, seems to constitute the whole of virtue, as far as she is concerned; but, ini- pregnable to all the assaults which can be made upon her chastity, she succumbs under the slightest temptation that attacks her on tlie side of avarice; and she loses all self-government, the moment you recommend to lier, to take care that her charities be in something like propor- tion to her opulence. That man is a pattern of reflective retire- ment, and modest silence: but, unshaken by the rudest attacks made upon his spirit of reserve, he yields to the sliglitest solicitations of pride, he decks himself out with the names and titles of his ancestors, he admires himself in the poorest effusions of his brain. How easy would it be to multiply examples of this sort! But if it be impossible to say, taking the ex- pression in the strictness of interpretation, that the Christian has broken off" all commerce with the world, that he is " dead to the world," that " the world is crucified unto him," and that " he is crucified unto the world;" he pos- sesses this disposition of mind, nevertheless, in various respects, and to a certain degree. " He is crucified unto the world;" he is so in respect of intention, ho has that sincere will " to pull down every strong hold, every thing that ex- alteth itself against tlie knowledge of God;" it is an expression of St. Paul's, i Cor. x. 4, 5. Hence such protestations as these, " O Lord! thou hast searched me, and known me," Ps. cxxxix. 1. "Lord! thou knowest that 1 love thee," John xxi. 17. Hence the bitterness of regret on account of remaining imperfection, " O wretched man that I am! who shalUieliver nie from the body of this deatli?" Rom. vii. 24. Hence those prayers for the communication of fresh supplies of heavenly aid; "Open thou mine eyes, that I may behold wondrous things out of thy law," Ps. c.xix. 18. " Teach me to do thy will, for thou art my God: thy Spirit is good; lead me into the land of uprightness," Ps. cxliii. 10. " He is crucified unto the world." He is so in respect of exertion and actual progress. Hence those unremitting conflicts with tlio re- ioaios of indwelling corruption; " I keep under my body, and bring it into subjection," 1 Cor. ix. 27. Hence those advances in the Christian course; " not ;is though 1 had already attained, either were already perfect, but I follow after . . . . This one tiling I do, forgetting those things wiiicii are belli iid, and reaching forth unto those things which are before, I press to- ward tiie mark, for the prize of tiie liigh call- ins of God in (!hrist Jesus," Pliil. iii. 12 — 14. " He is crucified unto tiie world." He is so in respect of hope and fervour. Hence those sighings after the dissolution of the body, which forms, as it were, a wall of separation between God and us. Hence those ardent breathings after a dispensation, and economy of things in which we shall be able to give an unrestrained effusion to tiie love of order, and be completely united to Jesus Christ. " For we that are in this tabernacle do groan, being burdened; nor for that we would be unclothed, but clothed upon, that mortality might be swallowed up of life, .... knowing that whilst we are at home in the body, we are absent from the Lord; .... and willing rather to be absent from the body, and to be present with the Lord," 2 Cor. v. 4. 6. 8. 3. But the Holy Spirit, in representing to us our renunciation of tiie world, under the idea of a death, of a crucifixion, intended to mark not only the nature and the degrees of the dis- position of mind which these expressions de- note, but likewise to indicate tiie difficulty, the bitterness, of making such a sacrifice. In very rare instances do men die without suifering. Death, in the gentlest form, is usu- ally preceded by violent symptoms, which some have denominated the harbingers of death. — These harbingers of death are mortal swoon- ings, feverish heats, paroxysms of pain, tortures insupportable. Crucifixion, especially, was the most cruel punishment which human justice, shall I call it? or human barbarity ever invent- ed. Tlie imagination recoils from the repre- sentation of a man nailed to a tree, suspended by the iron which pierces his hands and his feet, pressed downward with the weight of his own body, the blood of which is drained oflf drop by drop, till he expires merely from excess of anguish. Is this frightful image overstrained, when employed to represent the pains which the Christian is called to endure, the conflicts which he has to maintain, the sacrifices which he is bound to make; agonies which he is under an indispensable necessity to undergo, before he possibly can attain that blessed state which our apostle had, through grace, arrived at, when he said, in the words of my text, " the world is crucified unto me, and 1 am crucified unto the world?" Represent to yourselves a Christian, repre- sent to yourselves a man as yet a novice in the school of Jesus Christ, called to combat, some- times the propensities which he brought with him into the world; sometimes to eradicate a ha- bit which has grown up in him, till it is become a second nature: sometimes to stem the torrent of custom and example; sometimes to mortify and subdue a headstrong passion, which en- grosses him, transports him, drags him away captive; sometimes to bid an everlasting fare- well to the place of his birth, to his kindred. 222 THE TRUE GLORY OF THE CHRISTIAN. [Ser. LXXIX. and, like Abraham, " to go out, not knowing whither he went;" sometimes, with that same fiatriarch, to immolate an only son; to tear liniself, on a dying bed, from friends, from a Bi)0use, from a cliiid, whom he loves as liis own soul; and all this without murmuring or com- plaining: and all this, because it is the will of God; and all this, witli that submission which was expressed by Jesus Christ, the author and finisher of the Christian's faith, his Redeemer and his pattern: " Not what I will, but what thou wilt," Matt. x.wi. 39. O cross of my Saviour, how heavily dost thou press, when laid upon a man who has not yet carried love to thfee to that height which renders all things easy to him who loves! O path of virtue, which appearest so smooth to them who walk in thee, how rugged is the road which leads unto thee! O yoke of Jesus Christ, 60 easy! burden so light to him who has been accustomed to bear thee; how difficult, how oppressive to those who are but beginning to try their strength! You see it, accordingly, my brethren! you see it on the page of inspiration, to renounce the ivorld of cupidity, is to present the body in sacrifice; " 1 beseech you, brethren, by the mercies of God, that ye present your bodies a living sacrifice," Rom. xii. 1; it is to " cut off" a right hand," it is to " pluck out a right eye," Matt. v. 29, 30; it is for a man to "deny himself," it is to "take up the cross:" for "if any one will come after me, let him deny himself, and take up his cross, and follow me," Matt. xvi. 24; it is, in a word, to be " cru- cified with Jesus Christ;" for " I am crucified with Christ," Gal. ii. 20; and, in the words of the text, " The world is crucified unto me, and I am crucified unto the world." My God, how much it costs to be a Christian! SERMON LXXIX. THE TRUE GLORY OF THE CHRIS- TIAN. PART II. Galatians vi. 14. , But God forbid that I should gloitj, save in the cross of our Lord Jesus Chnst, bij lo/jom the world is crucified unto me, and I unto the world. Having presented you with a general view of the apostle's reasoning in this epistle; hav- ing considered it as an answer to three dif- ferent classes of opponents, wliom St. Paul had to combat; namely, those who maintained the observance of the Levitical institutions, to the disparagement of the gospel, 1. From tlie prejudice of birth and education: 2. From an excess of complaisance: 3. From criminal po- licy: we proceeded to show, that whatever dif- ference of motive and opinion might prevail among these three descriptions of adversaries whom our apostle had to encounter, and how- ever ditferent the strain of reasoning which ho employs, according as the character of each demanded, ho supjwrts, in opjiosition to thorn all, this principle, on which tlie whole of C'hris- tianity rests, nooioly, that the sacrifice which the Redeemer offered up of his own life, is alone capable of satisfying divine justice, and of reconciling guilty man to God. We tlicn entered into a more particular de- tail on tlie subject, by proposing, I. To examine wherein that disposition of the Christian consists, by which he is enabled, with St. Paul, to say, " the world is crucified unto me, and I am crucified unto the world," II. To show, that in such dispositions as these, true glory consists. III. To demonstrate that it is the cross of Christ, and the cross of Christ only, which can inspire us with these sentiments; as a founda- tion for this farther conclusion, that in the cross of Ciirist alone we can find a just ground of glorying. The first of these three proposals we have endeavoured to execute, by considering, 1. The nature of this reciprocal crucifixion: 2. Tiie gradations of wliich it admits: 3. The àif- ficulty, tiie bitterness, of making a sacrifice so very painful. We now proceed to what was next proposed, namely, II. To show, that in such dispositions as are expressed by our apostle, true glory con- sists. In order to elucidate and confirm this posi- tion, I mean to institute a comparison between the hero of this world, and the Christian hero, in the view of making it evidently apparent, that this last has infinitely the superiority over the other. From what sources does the hero of this world pretend to derive his glory.' The hero of this world sometimes derives his glory, from the greatness of the master to whom his services are devoted. He congra- tulates himself on contributing to the glory of those men who are so highly exalted above the rest of mankind, on being the support of their throne, and the guardian of their crown. The Master, to whose service the Christian has devoted himself, is the King of kings: he it is, in whose presence all the potentates of the earth " are as a drop of a bucket, and are counted as the small dust of tlie balance," Isa. xl. 16. He it is, by whose sujjreme authority " kings reign, and princes decree justice," Prov. viii. 15. It is true that the greatness of this adorable Being raises him far above all our services. It is true that his throne is establish- ed for ever, and that the united force of all created things would in vain attempt to shake it. But if the Christian can contrilnite no- thing to tho glory of so great a master, he publishes it abroad, ho confounds tliose who presume to invade it, he makes it to be known over the whole earth. ' The hero of this world sometimes derives his glory from the hatred with which he is ani- mated, against the enemy with whom he is making war. What enemy more hateful can a man etigage, than the world.' It is the world which degrades us from our natural greatness; which ell'accs from tlic soul of man, those traits which tho finger of Deity himself has impress- ed upon it; which destroys our pretensions to a blessed immortality. The hero of this world sometimes derives his glory from tho dignity of the persons who havo preceded him in the same honourable career. It is considered in the world, as glo- Ser. LXXIX.] THE TRUE GLORY OF THE CHRISTIAN. 223 rious, to succeed thoso illustrious men who have filled the universe with the sound of their name, who have made terror to stalk before them, and who sijrnalized themselves by ex- ploits more than human. The Christian has been preceded in his career by patriarchs, by prophets, by apostles, by martyrs, by those multitudes of the redeemed, out of every kin- dred, and tonirue, and people, and nation, Rev. V. 9. Those holy men have been called to wage war with sin, as we are to subdue our passions; to foruï in their inner man, as we are, piety, charity, patience, tlio habit and the practice of every virtue. The Ciiristian has been preceded in his career, by Jesus Christ himself, the author and the finisher of the faith. " Wherefore, seeing we also are com- . passed about with so great a cloud of witnesses, Jet us lay aside every weight, and the sin which doth so easily beset us, and let us run with pa- tience the race wiiich is set before us, looking unto Jesus the author and finisher of our faith; who, for the joy that was set before him, en- dured the cross, despising the shame," Heb. xii. 1, 2. The hero of this world sometimes derives his glory from the brilliancy of his achieve- ments. But who has greater exploits to glory in than the Christian can display? To shake off the yoke of prejudice, to despise the maxims of men, to resist flesh and blood, to subdue passion, to brave death, to sufler martyrdom, to remain unmoved amidst the convulsions of dissolving nature, and, in the very wreck of a labouring universe, to be able to apply those exceeding great and precious promises, which God has spoken by the mouth of the proplict, Isa. liv. 10. " The mountains shall depart, and the hills be removed: but my kindness shall not depart from thee, neither shall tl'.e covenant of my peace be removed, saith the Lord that hath mercy on thee." These, these are the achievements of the Christian. The hero of this world sometimes derives his glory from the benefits which lie has pro- cured for others, from the blessings with which he has enriched his country, from the slaves whose chains he has burst asunder, from the monsters of which he has purged the earth. Who is, in such respects as these, a greater benefactor to society than the Christian? lie is at once, its bulwark, its light and its model. The hero of this world sometimes derives his glory from the acclamations which his ex- ploits excite, and from the magnificence of the recompense with which his merits are to be crowned. But whence proceed the acclama- tions which inflate his pride? Does it belong to venal souls, to courtiers, to hireling panegy- rists; does it belong to ])ersons of this descrip- tion to distribute commendation and applause? Have they any thing like tiie idea of true glory? Extend, Christian, extend thy meditations up to the greatness of the Supreme Being! Think of that adorable intelligence, who unites in his essence all that deserves the name of great! Contemplate the Divinity surrounded with angels, with archangels, with tiie seraphim! Listen to the concerts which those blessed spirits compose to the glory of his name! Be- hold them penetrated, ravished, transported with tlie divine beauties which are disclosed to their view; employing eternity in celebrat- ing their excellency, and crying aloud day and night: " Holy, holy, holy is the Lord of hosts! The whole earth is full of his glory," Isa. vi. 3. " Amen: Blessing, and glory, and wisdom, and thanksgiving, and honour, and power, and might, be unto our God, for ever and ever! /\mcn," Rev. vii. 12. " Great and marvellous are thy works. Lord God Almighty! just and true are thy ways, thou King of saints! Who shall not fear thee, O Lord, and glorify thy name? for thou only art holy," Rev. xv. 3, 4. This Being, so worthy to be praised, and praised in a manner so worthy of him, he it is who has been preparing acclamations for the conquerors of the world. Yes, Christian com- batant! after thou hast been treated " as the filth of the world, and the^ offscouring of all tilings," 1 Cor. iv. 13, after thou shalt have mortified, subjected, crucified this flesh; after thou shalt have borne this cross, which was once " to the Jews, a stumbling block; and to the Greeks foolfshness;" and which is still to this day, foolishness and a stumbling block to those who ought to consider it as their highest glory to bear it; thou shalt be called fortii in the presence of men and of angels; the eye of the great God shall distinguish thee amidst the innumerable company of the saints; he shall address tiiee in these words: " Well done, good and faithful servant," Matt. xxv. 21. He will fulfil the promise which he this day is making to all who combat under the banner of the cross: " to him that overcometh, will I grant to sit with me in my throne," Rev. iii. 21. Ah! glory of the hero of this world, profane panegyrics, inscriptions conceived in high svvelling words of vanity, superb trophies, dia- dems, fitter to serve as an amusement to chil- dren, than to engage the attention of reasonable men! what have ye once to be compared with the acclamations, and with the crowns prepar- ed for the Christian hero? I sacrifice, my brethren, to the standard prescribed to the duration of these exercises, the delicious me- ditations which this branch of my subject so copiously supplies, and all I farther request of you is a moment's attention, while I endeavour to make you sensible, that it is in the cross of Jesus Christ alone, we find every thing neces- sary to inspire these noble dispositions; in order to deduce this consequence, that in the cross of Jesus Christ alone, the Christian must look for true glory; and in order to justify this sen- timent of our apostle: " God forbid that I should glory, save in the cross of our Lord Jesus C^irist, by whom the world is crucified unto me, and I unto the world!" Under what aspect can you contemplate the cross of Christ, that does not dispose you to break oti" entirely with the world? III. If we consider that cross in respect of its harmony with the whole contradiction which Jesus Christ endured upon earth, it has a pow- erful tendency to awaken in us the dispositions which St. Paul expresses, so as to say with him, " the world is crucified unto me, and I am crucified unto the world." Our great Mas- ter finishes upon a cross, a life passed in con- tempt, in indigence, in mortification of the senses, in hunger, in thirst, in weariness, in separation from the world; would it be becom- $24 THE TRUE GLORY OF THE CHRISTIAN. [Ser. LXXIX. ing in a Christian to lull himself to sleep in the anus of indolence, to addict himself to the pleasures of sense, to suffer himself to be en- chanted by the charms of voluptuousness, to breatlic after nothing but ease, but convenience, but repose, but abundance- " If the world hate you, ye know that it hated mc before it liatcd you. Remember the word that I said unto you, the servant is not greater than his Lord," Jonn xv. 18. 20. If we consider the cross of Christ, in rela- tion to the sacrifice which is there offered up to divine justice, it has a powerful tendency to produce in us the dispositions expressed by St. Paul, so as to be able to say with him, " The world is crucified unto me, and I am crucified unto the world." That worldly life, those dis- sipations, those accumulated rebellions against the commands of heaven; that cupidity which engrosses us, and constitutes all our delight, in what is all this to terminate? Observe the tempests which it gathers around the head of those who give themselves up to criminal in- dulgence. Jesus Christ was perfectly exempt from sin, but he took ours upon himself, " he bare them in his own body on the tree," 1 Pet. ii. 24, and it was for tliis end that he under- went, on that accursed tree, all tliose torments which his divinity and his innocence enabled him to support, without sinking under the load. Behold in this, O sinner, the fearful doom which awaits thee. Yes, unless thou art cruci- fied with Christ by faith, thou shall be by the justice of God. And then all the fury of that justice shall be levelled at thy head, as it was at his. Then tiiou shalt be exposed on a dying bed to the dreadful conflicts which he endured in Gcthsemane. Thou slialt shudder at tlie idea of that punishment whicii an avenging Deity is preparing for thee. Tliou siialt sweat as it were great drops of blood, when the eye is directed to the tribunal of justice whitlier thou art going to be dragged. Nay more, thou shalt then be condemned to compensate, by the duration of thy punishment, what the weakness of thy nature renders thee incapable of supporting in respect to weight. Ages ac- cumulated upon ages shall set no bounds to thy torments. Thou shalt bo accursed of God through eternity, as Jesus CiuMst was in time: and tiiat cross which thou refusedst to bear for a time, thou must bear for ever and ever. If we consider the cross of Jesus Clirist, with relation to the atrocious guilt of those who despise a sacrifice of such high value, we shall feel a powerful tendency to adopt the disposi- tions of St. Paul, and to say with him, " the world is crucified unto mc, and I am crucified unto the world." Tiie image which I would here trace for your inspection, is still that of St. Paul. This apostle depicts to us the love of tiie world, as a contempt of the cross of Chrisl, and as a renewal of the punishment whicli he sutfered. The idea of what such a crime deserves, absorbs and confounds his spi- rit; he cannot find colours strong enough to paint it; and he satisfies himself with asking, after he had mentioned tlie punishment inflicted on those who had violated the law of Moses: " Of how much sorer punishment, suppose ye, shall he bo thought worthy, who hath trodden under foot the Sun of God, and hath counted the blood of the covenant, wherewitii he was sanctified, an unholy thing, and hath done de- spite unto the spirit of grace?" Heb. x. 29. Here, sinner, here read thy sentence! The voice of the blood of the Son of God will cry from earth to heaven for vengeance against thee. God will one day call thee to give an account of tiic blood of a Son so dear to him. He will say unto tiiee as St. Peter did to those who shed it; " Thou hast denied the Holy One and the just .... and killed the Prince of Life," Acts iii. M, 15. He will pursue thee with all his plagues, as if tliou hadst imbrued thy hands in that blood, and as he has pur- sued those who were actually guilty of that crime. But less us press motives more gentle, and more congenial to the dignity of the redeemed of the Lord. If we consider the cross of Christ, in relation to the proofs which he there dis- plays to us of his love, is it possible we should find any thing too painful in the sacrifices which he demands of u&' Is it possible for us to do too much for that Jesus who has done so much for us? When the heart feels a disposi- tion to revolt against the morality of the gos- pel; when you are tempted to say, " This is a hard saying, who can hear it'" John vi. 60: When the gate of heaven seems too strait for you; when the flesh would exaggerate the dif- ficulties of working out your salvation; when it seems as if we were tearing the heart from your bosom, in charging j'ou to curb the impe- tuosity of your temperament, to resist the tor- rent of irregular desire, to give a portion of your goods to the poor, to sacrifice a Delilah or a Drusilla: follow your Saviour to Calvary: behold him passing the brook Kidron, ascend- ing the fatal Mount on which his sacrifice was to be accomplisiied; beiiold that concourse of woes which constrain him to cry out, " My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken ma'" Matt, xxvii. 46. If ye can, hold out against objects like these! If we consider the cross of Jesus Christ, rela- tively to the proofs which it supplies in support of the doctrine of him who there finished his life, it will be a powerful inducement to adopt the sentiments of St. Paul. It is natural, I allow, for reasonable beings, of whom sacrifi- ces are exacted, so costly as those which Chris- tianity prescribes, to expect full assurance of the truth of that religion. It is impossible to employ too much precaution, when the point in question is, whether or not we are to surren- der victims so beloved. The sligiitest doubt on this head is of essential importance. But is this article susceptible of the sligiitest doubt' Jesus Christ sealed with his blood the doc- trine which ho taught; he was not only the hero of the religion which we preach, but like- wise the martyr of it. If wo consider the cross of Christ, relatively to the aid necessary to form us to the senti- ments expressed by St. Paul, it still power- fully presses us to adopt them. It assures, on the part of God, of every support we can need, in maintaining the conflicts to which we are called. It lays the foundation of this rea- soning, the justest, the most conclusive, which intelligence ever formed: " If God be for us, who can be against ua' He that spared not Ser. LXXX] ON THE FEAR OF DEATH. 225 his own Son, but delivered him up for us all, how shall he not with him also freely give us all things?" Rom. viii. 31, 32. And, to conclude this discourse by repre- senting the same images wliicii we traced in the beginning of it, if we consider the cross of our Lord Jesus Christ, relatively to the glory which followed, it still presses us to adopt the sentiments of St. Paul in the text. The idea of that glory carried Jesus Christ through all that was most painful in his sacrifice. On the eve of consummating it, he thus addresses his heavenly Father: " The hour is come that the Son of man should be glorified. Father, glo- rify thy name Father, the hour is come; glorify tliy Son, that thy Son also may glorify thee 1 have glorified thee on the earth; 1 have finished the work which thou gavest me to do: and now, O F'atlicr, glorify thou me with thine own self, with the glory which I had with thee before the world was," John xii. 23. 28; xvii. 1.4,5. This expectation was not disappointed. The conflict was long, it was severe, but it came to a period; but hea- venly messengers descended to receive him as he issued from the tomb; but a cloud came to raise him from the earth; but the gates of hea- ven opened, with the acclamations of the church triumphant, celebrating his victories, and hailing his exaltation in these strains: " Lift up your heads, O ye gates, and be ye lifted up, ye everlasting doors, and the King of Glory shall come in," Ps. xxiv. 7. Christians! let our eyes settle on this object. To sutfer with Jesus Christ, is to have full as- surance of reigning with him. We do not mean to conceal from you the pains which await you in the career prescribed to the fol- lowers of the Redeemer. It is a hard thing to renounce all that flatters, all tliat pleases, all that charms. It is hard to be told incessantly of difficulties to be surmounted, of enemies to be encountered, of a cross to be borne, of cru- cifixion to be endured. It is hard for a man to mortify himself, while all around him are re- joicing; while they are refining on pleasure; while they are employing their utmost inge- nuity to procure new amusements; while they are distilling their brain to diversify their de- lights; while they are spending life in sports, in feasting, in gayety, in spectacle on spec- tacle. The conflict is long, it is violent, 1 ac- knowledge it; but it draws to a period; but your cross shall be followed by the same tri- umph which that of your Saviour was: " Fa- ther, the liour is come, glorify thy Son:" but you, in expiring on your cross; you shall with holy joy and confidence commend your soul to God, as he commended his, and, closing your eyes in death, say, " Father! into thy hands 1 commend my spirit," Luke x.xiii. 46; but the angels shall descend to receive that de- parting s()irit, to convey it to the bosom of your God; and after having rejoiced in your conversion, they shall rejoice together in your beatitude, as they rejoiced in his; but in the great day of the restitution of all things, you shall ascend on the clouds of heaven, as Jesus Christ did; you shall be exalted, like him, far above all heavens; and you shall assume, to- gether with him, a seat on the throne of the majesty -of God. Vol. II.— 29 Thus it is that the cross of Christ forms us to the sentiments of our apostle; thus it is that wc are enabled to say, " The world is cru- cified unto us, and we are crucified unto the world:" thus it is that the cross conducts us to the true glory. O glorious cross! thou shall ever be the object of my study, and of my me- ditation! I will propose to myself to know nothing, save Jesus Christ and him cruci- fied! " God forbid that I should glory, save in the cross of our Lord Jesus Christ, by whom the world is crucified unto me, and I unto the world!" May God grant us this grace! Amen. SERMON LXXX. ON THE FEAR OF DEATH. PART I. Hebrews ii. 14, 15. Forasmuch then as the children are partakers of Jlcsh and blood, he also himself likeicise took pari of the same; that through death he might destroy him that had the poii:er of death, that is, the devil; and deliver them who through fear of death icere all their life-time subject to bondage. To luiow what death is, without being terri- fied at it, is the highest degree of perfection attainable by the human mind; it is the high- est point of felicity which a man can reach, while in this valley of tears. I say, to know death without fearing it; and it is in the union of these two things we are to look for that ef- fort of genius so worthy of emulation, and that perfection of felicity so much calculated to kindle ardent desire. For to brave death without knowing what it is; to shut our eyes against all that is hideous in its aspect, in order to combat it with success, this is so far from in- dicating a superior excellency of disposition, that it must be considered rather as a mental derangement; so far from being the height of felicity, it is the extreme of misery. We have seen philosophers shaking off (if after all they did so in reality, and if that in- trepid outside did not conceal a trembling heart,) we have seen philosophers shaking off the fear of death; but they did not know it. They viewed it only under borrowed aspects. They figured it to themselves, as cither re- ducing the nature of man to a state of annihi- lation, or as summoning him before chimericîJ tribunals, or as followed by a certain imagina- ry felicity. We have seen heroes, as the world calls them, pretending to brave the terrors of death; but they did not know it: they represented it to themselves as crowned with laurels, as de- corated with trophies, as figuring on the page of the historian. We have seen, and still see every day, liber- tines pretending to brave the terrors of death, but they know it not. Their indolence is the cause of that assumed firmness; and they are incapable of enjoying tranquillity, but by ban- ishing the idea of a period, the horror of which they are unable to overcome. But not to dis- guise this formidable object; to view it in its 226 ON THE FEAR OF DEATH. [Ser. LXXX. true light; to fix tlio cyo steadily on every fea- ture; to liave a percei)tion of all its terrors; in a word, to know what death is, witliout being terrified at it, to repeat it once more, is the highest degree of perlcction attainable by the hinnan mind; it is the highest point of felicity which a man can reacii while in this valley of tears. Sovereign wisdom, my brethren, forms his children to true heroism. That wisdom effects what neither philosophers by their false max- ims, nor the heroes of the world by their af- fected intrepidity, nor the libertine by his in- sensibility and indolence; that wisdom etTects what all the powers in the universe could not have produced, and alone bestows on the Christian the privilege of knowing dcalli witli- out fearing it. All this is contained in the words which I have read as the subject of tiie present discourse: " through fear of death, men were all their life-time subject to bondage:" there is the power of death; there his empire; there his triumph. Jesus Christ, " through his death, has destroyed him that had tlio power of death, that is the devil, and delivers them who through fear of death were all their life- time subject to bondage:" Behold death van- quished! there are his spoils; there is the tri- umph over him: salutary ideas! which will pre- sent themselves in succession to our tlioughts in the sequel of this exercise. " Forasmuch then as the children are partakers of flesh and blood, he also himself likewise took part of the same; that through death he might destroy him that had the power of death, that is the devil: and deliver ihem who through fear of death were all their life-time subject to bon- dage." With respect to the first words, " forasmuch as the children are partakers of ilesii and blood, he also himself likewise took part of the same," I shall only remark, that by the children referred to, we are to understand men in general, and believers in particular: and by that Jlcsk and blood we are not to understand corrujdion, as in some other passages of Scripture, but hu- man nahire; so that wiien it is said, " as the children are partakers of flesh and blood, Je- sus Christ likewise took part of the same," the meaning is, he assumed a body such as ours is. Having made these few short remarks on the first words, we shall confine ourselves to the two ideas which have been indicated, and shall enqiloy what remains of our lime, in proving this fundamental truth, that Jesus Christ, " by his deatli, has destroyed him that had the power of death, that is, the devil, in order that he might delFver them who through fear of death were all their life-time subject to bondage." The terrors of death are expressed in terms powerfully energetical, in tiiis text. It repre- sents to us a migiily tyrant causing death to march at his coniinand, and subjecting the whole universe to his dominion. This tyrant is tho devil. lie is the personage here de- cribed, and who, " through tho fear of death, subjects men to bondage." You stand agliast, no doubt, on beholding tho whole human race reduced to subjection uuder a master so detestable. Tho fact, how- ever, cannot be called in question; tliis great enemy of our salvation unquestionably exer- cises a sort of empire over the universe. Though the Scriptures speak sparingly of the nature and functions of this malignant spirit, they say enough of tlicm to convey a striking idea of his power, and to render it formidable to us. The Scripture tells us, I. That he tempts men to sin; witness the wiles which he practised on our first jiarents; witness that which St. Paul says of him in chap. ii. of the Epistle to the Epliesians, " the spirit that work- etli in the children of disobedience;" witness the name of Tci/i/i/er given to him in the gospel history. Matt. iv. 3. I'he Scripture informs us, II. That he accuses men before God, of those very crimes which he solicited them to commit; witness the propiiet Zeciiariah, who was " showed Joshua the liigh-])riest, standing before the angel of the Lord, and Satan stand- ing at his right hand to resist him;" or, as it might have been rendered,, to be his adversui-y or accuser: witness the descriptive appellation of calumniator or accuser given him by St. John in the Apocalypse. I'lie Scripture tells us. III. That he sometimes lorments men; wit- ness the history of Job; witness what St. Paul says of his " delivering up unto Satan" the ii>- cestuous person at Corinth. This power of delivering up to Satan, to mention it by the way, was a part of the miraculous gifts confer- red on the apostle; gifts transmitted to the im- mediately succeeding ages of the church, at least if P;iuliness is to be credited on this sub- ject,* who relates that an abandoned wretch was, by St. Ainbrosius, delivered up to Satan, who tore him in pieces. Finally, IV. We find the devil designated in Scripture, " the god of the world," - Cor. iv. 4, and " the prince of the power of the air," Eph. ii. 2. You like- w'ise see him represented as acting on the wa- ters of the sea, as raising tempests, and as smi- ting the children of men with various kinds of plagues. But if the devil be represented as exercising an influence over the ills of human life, he is still more especially represented as exerting his power over our death, tho last and the most formidable of all our woes. The Jews were impressed with ideas of this kind. Nay, they did not satisfy themselves with general notions on this suliject. Tliey entered into the detail (for, my brethren, it has been an infirmity in- cident to man in every age, to assert confident- ly on subjects the most mysterious and conceal- ed,) they said that tiie devil, to whom they gave the name of Samuel,! had the empire of death:" that his power extended so far as to prevent the resurrection of the wicked. St. Paul, in the words of our text, adopts their mode of expiession, as his custom is, without propagating their error: he describes the evil spirit as the person who possesses the empire of death, aqd who, " tiirough the fear of death, subjects men all tlieir lite-time to bondage." But Christians, be not dismayed at behold- ing this fearful imago. " Surely there is no enchantment against Jacob, neither is there any divination against Israel," Numb, xxiii. 23. • Pauiiu. dc Vit. Ainbrus. t Thaliii. iu Libo. Cupht. Skr. LXXX.] ON THE FEAR OF DEATH. 227 " Now is come salvation and strength, and the kinfrdom of our God, and the power of liis Christ; for tlie accuser of our hrethren is cast down, wliich accused them before our God day and night. And they overcame him by the blood of the Lamb," Rev. xii. 10, 11. Let us, however, reduce our reflections on the subject to method. Three considerations render death formidable to man; three considerations disarm death in the apprehension of the Christian; 1 . The veil wliicii conceals from the eyes of llie dying person, the state on which he is about to enter: 2. The remorse of conscience which the recollection of his guilt excites: 3. The loss of titles, honours, and every other earthly possession. In these respects cliiefly, " he who has the power of death subjects men to bondage:" these are the things which ren- der death formidable. In opposition to this, the death of Jesus Christ, 1. Removes the veil which concealed futurity from us, and constitutes an authentic proof of tiio immortality of the soul: 2. Tiie death of Jesus Christ is a sacrifice presented to divine justice for tiie remission of oursins: 3. The deatli of Jesus Christ gives us complete assurance of a blessed eternity. These are the three considerations which disarm death in the apprehension of the dying believer. And this is a brief abstract of the important truths deli- vered in tliis text. The devil renders death formidable, through uncertainty respecting the nature of our souls; the death of Christ dispels that terror, by de- monstrating to us that the soul is immortal. The devil renders death formidable by awaken- ing the recollection of past guilt; the death of Jesus Christ restores confidence and joy, for it is the expiation of all our sins. The devil clothes death with terror, by rendering us sen- sible to the loss of those possessions of which death is going to deprive us; the death of Jesus Christ tranquillizes the mind, because it is a pledge to us of an eternal felicity. The first of these ideas represents Jesus Christ to us as a martyr, who has sealed with his own blood a doctrine which rests entirely on the immortali- ty of the soul. The second represents him as a victim, offering himself in our stead, to di- vine justice. And the third represents him as a conqueror, who has, by his death, acquired for us a kingdom of everlasting bliss. Had we nothing farther in view, than to pre- sent you with vague ideas of the sentiments of the sacred autiiors, on this subject, here our discourse might be concluded. But these truths, treated thus generally, could make but a slight impression. It is of importance to press them one by one, and, opposing in every particular, the triumph of the Redeemer, to the empire of the wicked one, to place in its clearest point of light, the interesting truth contained in our text, namely, that Jesus Clirist, "through his own death, has destroyed him who had the power of death, that is, the devil; that he might deliver them who, tlirough fear of death, were all their life-time subject to bondage." I. The first consideration which renders death formidable: the first yoke imposed on the necks of the children of men, by that tre- mendous prince who " has the power of death," is the fear of falling back into nothing, which the prospect of death awakens. The greatest of all the advantages which we possess, and tliat which indeed is the foundation of all the rest, is existence. We accordingly observe that old people, though all their faculties are much impaired, alwiiys enjoy a certain name- less superiority over young persons. The re- flection that there was a time when they ex- isted, while as yet the young did not exist, constitutes tliis superiority; and young persons, in their turn, feel a suj)eriority suggested to them by tlie thouglit, that a time is coming when they shall e.Mst; whereas the others shall be no more. Death terminates, to appearance, an advantage which is the foundation of every other. And is it any wonder that the heart of man sliould sink under such a consideration? In vain will we flee for refuge from this de- pressing reflection, to the arguments which reason, even a well-directed reason, supplies. If they are satisfying of themselves, and cal- culated to impress the philosophic mind, they are far beyond the reach of a vulgar under- standing, to whicl) the very terms spirituality and existence are barF)arous and unintelligible. To no purpose will we have recourse to what has been said on tliis subject, by the most en- lightened of the pagan world, and to what, in particular, Tacitus relates of Seneca,* on his going into the bath wiiich was to receive the blood, as it streamed from his opened veins: he besprinkled the bystanders with the fluid in which his limbs were immerged, with this me- morable expression, that he presented those drops of water as a libation to Jupiter the De- liverer. In order to secure us against terrors so formidable, we must have a guide more safe than our own reason. In order to obtain a per- suasion of the immortality of the soul, we must have a .security less suspicious than that of a Socrates or a Platp. Now tliat guide, my brethren, is tiie cross of Jesus Christ: that security is an expiring Redeemer. Two prin- ciples concur in the demonstration of all-im- portant trutli. 1. The doctrine of Jesus Christ establishes the immortality of the soul. 2. Tlie death of Jesus Christ is an irresisti- ble proof of tlie truth of his doctrine. I. Tiiat the doctrine of Jesus Christ estab- lishes the immortality of the soul is a point which no one pretends to dispute with us. A man has but to open his eyes in order to be convinced of it. We shall, accordingly, make but a single remark on this head. It is this, that the doctrine of the immortality of the soul ought not to be considered merely as a particu- lar point of the religion of Jesus Christ, inde- pendent of which it may subsist as a complete whole. It is a point without which Christianity cannot exist at all, and separated from which the religion of Jesus Christ, the fullest, the most complete, and the most consistent that ever was presented to the world, becomes the most imperfect, barren, and inconsistent. The whole fabric of the gospel rests on this founda- tion, that the soul is immortal. Wherefore was it that Jesus Christ, the Lord of universal nature, had a manger for his cradle, and a sta- ' Annal» Lib. xv. 228 ON THE FEAR OF DKATII. rSEa. LXXX. ble for his palace? because Iiis "kingdom was not of this world," John xviii. 10. This sup- poses the inunortality uf tlio soul. Wherefore is the Christian encouraged to bid defiance to tyrants, who may drag liim from a prison, from a dungeon, who may nail liiin to a cross, who may mangle his body on a wheel? it is because their power e.xtcnds no farther than to the ♦' killing of the body," Matt. x. 28, while the soul is placed far beyond their reach. This supposes immortality. Wherefore must the Christian deem himself miserable, were he to achieve the con(iucst of the whole world, at the expense of a good conscience? Because it will " profit a man nothing to gain the whole world, if he lose his own soul," Matt. xvi. 26. This supposes immortality. Wherefore are we not the most miserable of all creatures? Be- cause " we have hope in Clirist not for this life only," 1 Cor. xv. 19. This supposes immor- tahty. The doctrine of Jesus Christ, therefore, establishes the truth of the immortality of the eoul. 2. But we said, in the second place, that the death of Jesus Christ is a proof of his doctrine. He referred the world to his death, as a sign by which it miglit be ascertained whether or not he came from God. By tiiis he proposed to stop the mouth of incredulity. Neither the parity of his life, nor the sanctity of his deport- ment, nor the lustre of his' miracles had as yet prevailed so far as to convince an unbelieving world of the truth of his mission. They must Lave sign upon sign, prodigy upon prodigy. Jesus Christ restricts himself to one: " Destroy this temple, and within tiirec days I will build it up again," Mark xiv. 58. " An evil and adulterous generation sceketh after a sign; and there shall no sign be given to it, but the sign of the prophet Jonas," Matt. xii. 39. This Bign could not labour under any ambiguity. And this sign was accomplislied. There is no longer room to doubt" of a truth demonstrated in a manner so illustrious. Our ancestors devised,'' with greater simpli- city, it must be allowed, than strength of rea- soning, a very singular proof of the innocence of persons accused. They presented to them a bar of hot iron. If the person under trial had the firmness to grasp it, and received no injury from the action of the burning metal, he was acquitted of the charge. This proof was, as we have said, devised with more simplicity tlian strength of reasoning: no one having a right to suppose that God will perform a miracle, to evince his innocence to the conviction of his judges. I acknowledge at the same time, that had 1 been an eye-witness of such an experi- ment; had 1 beheld that element which dis- solves, which devours bodies the most obdurate, respecting the hand of a person accused of a crime, 1 should certainly have been very much struck at the sight of such a spectacle. But what shall we say of the Saviour of the world, after the proof to which he was put' He " walked tlirough the fire without being burnt," Isa. xliii. 2. He descended into the bosom of the grave: the grave respected him, and those other insatiables which never say " it is enough," Prov. xxx. 16, opened a passage Ra»i|uiosing God to have granted us no revelation whatever on this interesting article, but simply this, that our souls are im- mortal, a slight degree of meditation on the case, as thus stated, ought to operate as an in- ducement rather to wish for death, than to fear it. It appears probable that the soul, when disengaged from the senses, in which it is now enveloped, will subsist in a manner infinitely more noble than it could do here below, during its union with matter. We are perfectly con- vinced that the body will, one day, contribute greatly to our felicity; it is an essential part of our being, without which our happiness must be incomplete. But this necessity, which fet- ters down the functions of the soul, on this earth, to the irregular movements of ill-assort- ed matter, is a real bondage. The soul is a prisoner in this body. A prisoner is a man sus- ceptible of a thousand delights, but who can enjoy, however, only such pleasures as are com- patible with the extent of the place in which lie is shut up: Iiis scoi)e is limited to the capa- city of his dungeon: he beholds the light only through the aperture of tliat dungeon: all his intercourse is confined to tlie persons who ap- proach his dungeon. But let his prison-doors be thrown open; from that moment, behold him in a state of much higher felicity. Thencefor- ward he can maintain social intercourse with all the men in the world; thenceforward he can contemplate an unbounded body of light; thenceforward he is able to expatiate over the spacious universe. This exhibits a portrait of the soul. A pri- soner to the senses, it can enjoy those delights only which have a reference to sense. It can see only by means of the cuticles and the fibres of its eyes: it can hear only by means of the ac- tion of tlie nerves and tympanum of its ears: it can think only in conformity to certain modifi- cations of its brain. The soul is susceptible of a thousand pleasures, of wliicii it has not so much as the idea. A blind man has a soul ca- pable of admitting the sensation of light; if he be deprived of it, the reason is, his senses are defective, or improperly disposed. Our souls are susceptible of a thousand unknown sensa- tions; but they receive them not, in this econo- my of imperfection and wretchedness, because it is the will of God that they should perceive only through the medium of those organs, and tliat those organs, from their limited nature, sliould bo capable of admitting only limited sensations. J{ut permit the soul to expatiate at large, let it take its natural llight, let these prison walls bo broken down, O, then! the soul becomes Ser. LXXX.] ON THE FEAR OF DEATH. 229 capable of ten thousand inconceivable new do- lights. Wherefore do you point to that ghastly corpse? Wherefore de[>lore those eyes closed to the light, those spiritii evaporated, that blood frozen in the veins, that motionless, lifeless mass of corruption? Why do you say to me, " My friend, my father, my sjiouse is no more; he sees, ho hears, he acts no longer." He secH no longer, do you say? Ho sees no longer, I grant, by means of those visual rays which were formed in the retina of the eye; but he 6068 as do tiiose pure intelligences wiiicli never were clothed with mortal flesh and blood. He hears no more through the medium of tiie ac- tion of the ethereal fluid, but he hears as a pure spirit. He thinks no longer through the inter- vention of the fibres of his brain; but he tliiuks from his own essence, because, being a spirit, the faculty of thougiil is essential to him, and inseparable from his nature. SERMON LXXX. ON THE FEAR OF DEATH. PART 11. Hebrews ii. 14, 15 Forasmnch then as the children arc partakers of Jiesh and blood, ht also himself likewise took pari of the same: that throiigh death he might destroy him that had the power of death, that is, the devil: and deliver them who through fear of death were all their life-time subject to bondage. In discoursing from tiiese words, we observed, that deatii is rendered formidable to man, by a threefold consideration, and that three conside- rations of an opposite nature strip him of all his terrors, in the eye of the believer in Christ Jesus. Death is formidable, 1. Because of the veil which conceals from the eyes of the dying person, that state on which he is about to enter. 2. From remorse of conscience, wliich the recollection of past guilt excites. 3. From the loss of titles, honours, and all other earthly possessions. In opposition to these, tiie death of Christ, 1. Removes the veil which conceals futurity, and constitutes an authentic proof of the im- mortality of the soul. 2. It is a sacrifice pre- sented to divine justice for the remission of sin. 3. It gives us complete assurance of a blessed eternity. These are the considerations which disarm death of his terrors to the dying believer. We have finished what was proposed on the first particular, and have shown, 1. That the doctrine of Jesus Christ fully establishes the soul's immortality; and, 2. That the death of Jesus Christ is an irresistible proof of the truth of his doctrine. But to no purpose would it be to fortify the mind against the apprehension of ceasing to exist, unless we are delivered from tlie terror of being for ever miserable. In vain is it to have demonstrated tiiatour souls are immortal, if we are haunted with the well-grounded ap- prehension of their falling into the hands of that God who " is a consuming fire." In this case, what constitutes a man's greatness would constitute his misery. Let us endeavour, II. In the second plane, to dissipate the dreadful apprehension which a guilty con- science awakens in the pro-i^pect of judgment to come. Having considered Jesus Christ as a martyr, who sealed willi his own blood the doc- trine which ho preached, and his death as an argument in support of the iuunortality of the soul taught in that doctrine; let us contemplate our divine Saviour as a victim, which Ciod haa substituted in our place, and his death as a sacrifice olVered up to divine justice, for the ex- piation of our offences. One of the i)rincipal dangers to be avoided in controversies, and particularly in that which we are going to handle, is to imagine that all arguments are of equal force. Extreme care must be taken to assign to each its true limits, and to say, this argument proves thus far, that other goes so much farther. We must thus advance step by step up to truth, and form, of those arguments united, a demonstration so much the more satisfactory, in proportion as we have granted to those who dispute it, all that they could in reason ask. On this princi- ple we divide our arguments into two classefl. The first we projjose only as presumptions in fiivour of the doctrine of the satisfaction. To the second we ascribe tiie solidity and weight of demonstration. Of tlie first class are the following- I. We allege human reason as a presump- tive argument in support of the doctrine which we maintain. We do not mean to affirm, that human reason derives from the stores of her own illumination the truth of this doctrine. So far from that we confidently aftirin, that this is one of the mysteries which are infinitely beyond the reach of human understanding. It is one of" the things wliich eye hath not seen, nor ear heard, neitiier have entered into the heart of man," 1 Cor. ii. 9. But we say that this mystery presents nothing that siiocks hu- man reason, or that implies a shadow of con- tradiction. What do we believe? That God has united the human nature to the divine, in the person of Jesus Christ, in a manner some- what resembling that in which he has united the body to the soul, in the person of man. We say that this composition (pardon the ex- pression,) tills composition of Humanity and of Deity suffered in what was human of it; and that what was divine gave value to the suffer- ings of the man, somewhat after the manner in which we put respect on a human body, not as a material substance, but as united to an intelligent soul. These are the terms in which wo propose our mystery. And there is nothing in this which involves a contradiction. If we had said that the Divinity and Humanity were con- founded or common; if we had said that Deity, who is impassible, suffered; if we had said that Jesus Christ as God made satisfaction to Jesus Christ as God, reason might have justly reclaimed; but we say that Jesus Christ suflered as man; we say that the two natures in his person were distinct; we say that Jesus Christ, suffering as a man, made satisfaction to God maintaining the rights of Deity. This is the first step we advance in this career. Our first argument we carry tlius far, and no farther. 230 ON THE FEAR OF DEATH. [Ser. LXXX. II. Our second arriment is taken from the divine justice. Wo say tliat the idea wliich we liave of tlie divine justice jjre.sents nothing in- consistent with the doctrine we are endeavour- in» to estabiisli, but on the contrary leads us directly to adopt it. The divine justice would lie in opposition to our doctrine, did we aflirni that the innocent Jesus sutlered as an innocent person; but we say tliat he sulFt-red, as loaded with the guilt of the whole human race. The divine justice would be in opposition to our doctrine, did we aflirni tliat Jesus Christ had " the iniquity of us all laid upon him," whether he would or not; but we say that he took this heavy load upon himself voluntarily. The di- vine justice would be in opposition to our doc- trine, did we affirm that Jesus Christ took on himself the load of human guilt, to encourage men in the practice of sin; but we say that he acted thus in the view of sanctifying them, by procuring their pardon. The divine justice would be in opposition to our doctrine did we affirm tiiat Jesus Christ, in assuming the load of our guilt, sunk under the weight of it, so that the universe, for the sake of a few guilty wretches, was deprived of the most distinguish- ed being that could possibly e.xist; but we say that Jesus Christ, in dying for us, came off victorious over death and tlie grave. The di- vine justice, therefore, presents nothing incon- sistent with tiie doctrine of the satisfaction. But we go much farther, and affirm, tiiat the idea of divine justice leads directly to the doc- trine. Tlie atonement corresponds to tlie de- mands of justice. We shall not here presume to determine the question, whether it is possi- ble for God, consistently with his perfections, to pardon sin without exacting a satisfaction. Whatever advantage wo might have over those who deny our thesis, we shall not press it on the present occasion. But, in any case, they must be disposed to make this concession, that if the wisdom of God has devised the means of obtaining a signal satisfaction to justice, in unison with- the most illustrious display of goodness; if he can give to the universe an hence those hecatombs; hence those human victims; hence tliat blood which streamed on the altars, and so many other rites of religious worship, the existence of which no one is dis- posed to call in question. What consequence do we deduce from this position.' The truth of the doctrine of the atonement' No: we do not carry our inference so far. We only con- clude, that there is no room to run down the Christian religion, if it instructs us that God demanded satisfaction to his justice, by an ex[)iatory sacrifice, before he could give an un- restrained course to his goodness. This third argument we carry thus far, and no farther. 4. A fourth reflection hinges on the corres- pondence of our belief, respecting this par- ticular, with that of every age of the Christian church, in uninterrupted succession, from Jesus Christ down to our own times. All the ages of the Christian world have, as we do, spoken ' of this sacrifice. But we must not enlarge. Whoever wishes for complete information on this particular, Avill find a very accurate collec- tion of the testimonies of the fathers, at the end of the treatise on the satisfaction, com- posed by the celebrated Grotius. The doctrine of the atonement, therefore, is not a doctrine of yesterday, but has been transmitted from age to age, from Jesus Christ down to our own times. This argument we carry thus far and no farther. Here then we have a class of arguments which, after all, we would have you to consi- der only as so many presumptions in favour of the doctrine of the atonement. But surely we are warranted to proceed thus far, at least, in concluding; a doctrine in which human rea- son finds nothing contradictory: a doctrine which presents nothing repugnant to the di- vine attributes, nay, to which the divine at- tributes directly lead us; a doctrine perfectly conformable to the suggestions of conscience, and to the practice of mankind in every age, and of every nation; a doctrine received in the Christian church from the beginning till now; a doctrine which, in all its parts, pre- unequivocal proof of his abhorrence of sin, in sents nothing but what is entirely worthy of the very act of pardoning the sinner; if there ~ ■ • be a method to keep oflenders in awe, even while mercy is extended to them, it must un- doubtedly bo more proper to employ such a method than to omit it. This is the second step we advance towards our conclusion. Our second argument we carry thus far, and no farther. 3. Our third consideration is taken from the suggestions of conscience, and from the prac- tice of all nations. Look at the most polished, and at the most barbarous tribes of the human race; at nations the most idolatrous, and at those which have discovered the purest ideas on the Rulijcct of religion. Consult authors of the remotest antiquity, and authors the most recent: transport yourself to the ancient Egyp- tians, to tlie I'henicians, to the Gauls, to the Carthaginians, and you will find that, in all ages, and in every part of the globe, men have expressed a belief that the Deity expected sa- crifices should be otiered up to him: nay, not only sacrifices, but such as had, as far as it was possible, Homcthiiig like a pro|)ortion to his God, when we examine it at the tribunal of our own understanding: sucii a doctrine con- tains nothing to excite our resentment, no- thing that we ought not to bo disposed to ad- mit, if we find it clearly laid down in the Scrip- tures. Now, my brethren, wo have only to open the Bible in order to find express testimonies to this purpose; and not only do we meet with an infinite iminber of passages in which the doctrine is clearly taught, but a multitude of classes of such passages. 1. In the first class, we must rank all those passages which declare that Jesus Christ died lor us. It would be no easy matter to enu- merate tliem; " I delivered unto you first of all," says St. Paul in his first e|)istle to the Corinthians, xv. .3, " tliat which I also receiv- ed, how that Christ died for our sins, according to the Scriptures." " Christ also hath once suflered for sins," says St. Peter, in his first epistle general, iii. 18, "the just for the un- just, that he might bring us to God." a. In a sticond class must be ranked those greatnosB. llcnco tliosc magnificent temples; | passages wliich represent Jesus Christ as suf- Ser. LXXX.] ON THE FEAR OF DEATH. 231 fering the punishment which we had deserved. The fifty-third chapter of the prophet Is;iiah turns entirely on this subject; and tJie apostles hold the BcH-sanio ianfjuage. They say ex- pressly that Christ " was made to be sin lor us, who knew no sin," 2 Cor. v. 21, that he was " made a curse for us," Gal. iii. 13, that he " bare our sins in his own body on the tree," 1 Pet. ii. 2-1. 3. In a third class must be ranked all those passages in which our salvation is represented as being the fruit of Christ's death. The per- sons, whose ojjinions we are combating, main- tain themselves on a ground which we esta- blished in a former branch of this discourse, namely, that the death of Jesus Christ was a demonstration of the truth of his doctrine. They say that this is the reason for which our salvation is considered as the ellcct of that death. But if we are saved by the death of Jesus Christ, merely because it has sealed a doctrine which leads to salvation, how comes it then, that our salvation is nowhere ascrib- ed to the other parts of his ministry, which contributed, no less than his death, to the con- firmation of his doctrine? Were not the mira- cles of Jesus Christ, for example, proofs equal- ly authentic as his death was, of the trulii of his doctrine? Whence comes it, that our salva- tion is nowhere ascribed to tiiem? This is the very thing we are maintaining. The resurrec- tion, the ascension, the miracles were absolute- ly necessary to give us assurance, that the wrath of God was appeased; but Christ's death alone was capable of producing tliat eftect. You will more sensibly feel the force of tiiis argument, if you attend to the connexion which our text has with what follows in the nth verse, " Wherefore in all things it behov- ed him to be made like unto his breliiren; that he might be a merciful and faitliful high priest .... to make reconciliation for the sins of the people." If we are saved by the death of Jesus Christ, merely because that event sealed the truth of his doctrine, wherefore should it have been necessary for him to assume our flesh? Had he descended from heaven in the eliulgence of his glory; had he appeared upon Mount Zion, such as he was upon Mount Sinai, in flashes of lightning, with the voice of thunder, with a retinue of angels; would not the truth of the gospel have been established infijiitely better than by the death of a man? Wherefore, then, was it necessary that Christ should die? It was because the victim of our transgressions must be put to death. This is St. Paul's reasoning. And for this reason it is that our salvation is nowhere ascribed to the death of the martyrs, though the death of the martyrs was, like that of Jesus Christ, a proof of the truth of the gospel. 4. In a fourth class, must be ranked all those passages which represent the death of Jesus Christ as the body and the reality, of which all the sacrifices prescribed by the law were but the figure and the shadow. We shall select a single one out of a nmltitude. The greatest part of the Epistle to the He- brews may be quoted to this eftect. It is evi- dent that the great object of its author is to engage Christians to look for that iu the sacri- fice of JesuB Christ, which the Jews, to no pur- pose, sought for in those which Moses pro- scribed. Now what did the Jews look for iu their sacrificea' ^Vas it not the means of ap- peasing the Deity? If, therefore, the sacrifices of the Jews were the expiation of sin, only in figure and in a shadow, if the sacrifice of Jesus Christ be their body and reality, does it not follow that Jesus Christ has really and literally expiated our transgressions? To pretend that the Levitical sacrifices were not ottered up for the expiation of great oflences, but only for certain external indecencies, which rather pol- luted the flesh, than wounded the conscience, is an altem|)t to maintain one error by another; for a man has only to open his eyes, to be con- vinced that the Levitical sacrifices were offered up lor otfences the most atrocious; it is need- less to adduce any other evidence than the an- nual sacrifice ])rescribed. Lev. xvi. 21, 22, in the ollering of which, Aaron " laid both his hands upon the head of the live goat, and con- fessed over him all the iniquities of the chil- dren of Israel, and all their transgressions in all their sins .... and the goat did bear upon him all their iniquities." 5. In a fifth class must bo ranked the cir- cumstances of tiie passion of Jesus Christ, and of his agony in the garden; that sorrow, those fears, tliose agitations, those cries, those tears, that bloody sweat, those bitter complaints: " My God, My God, whj hast thou forsaken me?" Matt. xxvi. 46. The argument derived from this will appear of still greater weight, if you support it by thus reflecting, that no person in the universe ought to have met death with so much joy as Jesus Christ, had he suffered a mere ordinary death. Christ died with a perfect submission to the will of his father, and with a fervent love to mankind. Christ died in the full assurance of the justice of his cause, and of the innocency of his life. Christ died completely persuaded of the im- mortality of the soul, and of the certainty of a life to come. Christ died under a complete assurance of the exalted felicity which he was to enjoy after death. He had come from God. He was returning to God. Nay, there ought to have been something more particular in his tri- lunph, than in that of the generality of believ- ers. Because he had " made himself of no reputation;" God was about " to give him a name which is above every name." A cloud was going to serve him as a triumphal car, and the church triumphant was preparing to receive him with acclamations of joy, " Lift up your heads, O ye gates, and.be ye lift up, ye everlasting doors, and the King of Glory shall come in," Ps. xxiv. 7. What then, arc we to e.xpect that Jesus Christ shall do? Shall we behold him advanc- ing to meet death with joy? Shall he not say with St. Paul, "My desire is to depart' Shall he not in rapture exclaim, " This day crowns are to be distributed, and I go to receive my share?" No, Jesus Christ trembles, he turns pale, he fears, he sweats great drops of blood: whereas the martyrs, with inferior illumina- tion, with feebler motives, have braved death, have bidden defiance to the most horrid tor- ments, have filled their tormentors with aston- iâbment. Whence comes this difierence? From 232 ON THE FEAR OF DEATH. [Seh. LXXX. the very point which wo are endeavouring to estabHsh. The deatli of Jesus Christ is wide- ly dirtcrent from that of the martyrs. The martyrs found death already disarmed: Jesus Christ died to disarm this kinç of terrors. Tlie martyrs presented themselves jjelbre the throne of grace; Jesus Christ presented himself at the tribunal of Justice. The martyrs pleaded the merits of Christ's dealli: Jesus Christ interced- ed in beiialf of the martyrs. Let the great adversary, then, do his worst to terrify me with the image of the crimes which 1 have committed; let him trace them before my eyes in the blackest characters whicii his malignity can employ; let him col- lect into «ne dark point, all that is hideous and hateful in my life; let him attempt to over- whelm me with dismay, by rousing the idea of that tremendous tribunal, before which all the actions of men are to be scrutinized, so that like " Joshua the high-priest,"' I find myself standing in the presence of God, " clothed with filthy garments," Zech. iii. 1, &c. and Satan standing at his right hand to expose my turpitude; I hear, at the same time, the voice of one pleading in my behalf: I hear these re- viving words: " is not tliis a brand plucked out of the fire? .... Take away the filthy garments from him .... Let them set a fair mitre upon his head .... and I will clothe him with change of raiment." SERMON LXXX. ON THE FEAR OF DEATH. PART III. Hebrews ii. 14, 15. Forasmuch then as the children are partakers of fiesh and blood, he also himself likewise took part of the same; that through death he might destroy him that had the poiver of death, that is, the devil; and deliver them xcho through fear of death were all their life-time siAject to bond- age. We now come in the III. Third and last place, to consider death rendered formidable, from its being attended with the loss of titles, honours, and every other earthly possession, and in opposition to this, we are to view the death of Jesus Christ as re- moving that terror, by giving us complete as- surance of a blessed eternity. We are going to contemplate death as a universal shipwreck, swallowing up all our worldly fortunes and prospects. We are going to contemplate Je- sus Christ as a conijueror, and his death as the pledge and security of a boundless and ever- lasting felicity, which shall amply compensate to us the loss of all those possessions, of which we are about to bo stripped by the unsparing hand of death. Wlicn wo attempt to stammer out a few words from the pul[)it, respecting the felicity whicli (Jod has laid up for his people in ano- ther world, we b(jrrow the images of every thing that is capable of touching the heart, and of communicating delight. Wo call in to our assistance the soul of man, with all its exalted faculties; the body, with all its beautiful forms and proportions; nature, with her overflowing treasures; society, with its enchanting delights; the church, with its triumphs; eternity, with its unfathomable abysses of joy. Of all these ingredients blended, we compose a faint repre- sentation of the celestial blessedness. The soul of man constitutes one ingredient, and we say. In heaven your soul shall arrive at its highest pitch of attainable perfection: it shall ac()uire expansive illumination, it shall reach sublime heights of virtue, it shall " be- hold as in a glass the glory of the Lord, and shall be changed into the same image, from glory to glory," 2 Cor. iii. 18. The body furnishes a second ingredient, and we say. In heaven your body shall be exempted from all the defects by which it is at present disfigured, from those diseases which now prey upon and waste it, from that death which de- stroys the fabric. Nature supplies a third ingredient, and we say. In heaven all the stores of Nature shall be displayed in rich profusion: " the founda- tions of the holy city are of jasper, its gales are of pearl, its walls are of pure gold," Rev. xxi. 21. Society supplies a fourth ingredient, and we say, In heaven shall be united, in the tender- est social bonds, kindred spirits the most exalt- ed; souls the most refined; hearts the most generous and enlarged. The church supplies a fifth ingredient, and we say. In heaven shall be exhibited the tri- umph of the faithful over tyrants confounded, the saints shall be enthroned, the martyrs shall appear with palms in their hands, and with crowns upon their heads. Eternity supplies a sixth ingredient, and we say, In heaven you shall enjoy a felicity infi- nite in its duration, and immeasurable in its degree; years accumulated upon years, ages upon ages, shall eflect no diminution of its length: and so of the rest. This day. Christians, in which we are rep- resenting death to you as a universal wreck which swallows up all your possessions, your titles, your greatness, your riches, your social connexions, all that you were, and all that you hoped to be; this day, while we are attempt- ing to convey to you an idea of the celestial felicity, capable of strengthening you to be- hold, without dismay, this universal wreck, in which you are going to be involved; this day we could wish you to conceive the heavenly world, and the blessedness which God is there preparing for you untier another idea. We mean to trace another view of it, the lustre of which eflaces all the rest. Wo build upon this foundation of St Paul: " He that spared not his own Son, but delivered him up for us all, how shall he not with him also freely give us all things?" Rom. viii. 32. The heavenly blessedness is the purchase of the death of Je- sus Christ. Here collect, my brethren, every thing that is capable of enhancing to your ap- prehension the unspeakable greatness and im- portance of that death. View the death of Christ relatively to the types which prefigured it; relatively to the sha- dows by which it was adumbrated; relatively to the ceremonies by which it was reprosent- od) relatively to tho oracles which predicted it. Ser. LXXX.] ON THE FEAR OF DEATH. 233 View the death of Christ relatively to the l sent illusion to the eye? Will you still main- tempests and thunderbolts which were levelled j tain your ground against those solid blessings at the head of the Redeemer. Ecliold his soul overwliclnied with sorrow; belioid that blood falling down to the ground; that cup of bitterness wiiicii was given hini to drinit; hearken to that insulting language, to those calumnies, to those false accusations, to that unjust sentence of condemnation; behold those hands and feet pierced with nails, that siicred body s[)cudily reduced to one gliaslly wound; behold that licentious rabble clamorously de- manding tlie punislnnent of the cross, and in- creasing the horror of it by every indignity which malice could invent; look up to heaven itself, and bciiold the eternal Father abandon- ing the Son of his love to so many woes; be- hold hell in concert with heaven, and heaven with the earth. View the death of Christ relatively to the dreadful signs by which it was accompanied; relatively to that eartii seized with trembling, to that sun shrouded in darkness, to tliose rocks rent asunder, to those opening graves, to those departed saints returning to the liglit of day. View the death of Christ relatively to the greatness of God, and to the littleness of man, in whoso behalf all this bloody scene was transacted. Collect all these various particulars, and still say to yourself. The death of Jesus Christ is all this. The death of Jesus Christ is the body of tlie figures, the original of the types, the reality of the shadows, tlie acconi[)lishment of the prophecies. The death of Jesus Christ is that great event which darkened the sun, which opened the tombs, which rent asunder the rocks, which made the earth to tremble, which turned nature and tlie elements upside down. Follow up these reflections, and on these let your imagination settle. The death of Jesus Christ conceived thus, apply it to the subject which we are treating. The death of Jesus Christ conceived tlius, let it servo to assist you in forming an idea of the heavenly blessedness. Still build on this foundation of St. Paul; say with that apostle, " He that spared not his own Son, but delivered him up for us all, how shall he not with him also freely give us all things?" You regret the world; you who are advancirfg on your way heavenward. And what is heaven? It is the purchase of Christ's death. "He that spared not his own Son, but delivered him up for us all, how shall he not with him also freely give us all things?" If the means be thus great, what must tiio end be! If the preparatives be thus magnificent, what must be the issue! If the conflict be thus sharp, what must be the victory! If the price be thus costly, what, O what, shall be the' bliss which this price is in- tended to purchase. After that, my brethren, return to the world. — What is it you regret' Are you re- gretting t!»e loss of palaces, of sceptres, of crowns? It is to regret the humble crook in your hand, the cottage which covers your head. Do you regret the loss of society, a society whose defects and whose deliglils are frequently an equal source of misery to you? Ah! phantom of vain desire, will you still pre- VoL. II.— 30 which the death of Jesus Christ has purchased for us? Ah! " broken cisterns," will you still preserve a preference in our esteem to " the fountain of living waters?" Ah! great High Priest of the new covenant, shall we still find it painfully diflicult to follow thee, whilst thou art conducting us to heavenly places, by the bloody traces of thy cross and martyrdom. Jesus Christ is a "conqueror," who has ac- tjuired for us a kingdom of glory and felicity; his death is an invaluable pledge of a trium- phant eternity. Death, then, has nothing, henceforward, that is formidable to the Christian. In the tomb of Jesus Christ are dissipated all the ter- rors which the tomb of nature presents. In the tomb of nature I perceive a gloomy night, which the eye is unable to penetrate; in the tomb of Jesus Christ I behold light and life. In the tomb of nature the punislnnent of sin stares me in the face; in the tomb of Jesua Christ I find the e.vpiation of it. In the tomb of nature I read the fearful doom pronounced upon Adam, and upon all his miserable posteri- ty: " Dust thou art, and unto dust shalt thou return," Gen. iii. 19; but in the tomb of Jesus Christ my tongue is loosed into this triumphant song of praise, " O death, where is thy sting? O grave, where is thy victory? .... Thanks be to God who giveth us the victory, through our Lord Jesus Christ," 1 Cor. .\v. 55. 67. "Through death he has destroyed him that had the power of death, that is, the devil; that ho might deliver them who through fear of death were all their life-time subject to bondage." THE APPLICATION. But if these be our privileges, is it not mat- ter of reproach to us, my brethren, that brought up in the knowledge and profession of a religion which furnishes arms so powerful for combating the terrors of death, we should still, for the most part, view it only with fear and trembling? Tlie fact is too evident to be denied. From the slightest study of by far the greatest part of professing Christians, it is clearly apparent tliat they consider death as the greatest of all calamities. And with a very slender experience of the state of dying persons, it will be found that there are few, very few indeed, who die without regret, few but who have need to exercise all their sub- mission, at a season when it might be expected they should give themselves up to transports of joy. A vapour in tlie head disconcerts us; we are alarmed if the artery happens to beat a little faster than usual; the least apprehen- sion of death inspires us with an unaccounta- ble melancholy, and oppressive dejection. But those apprehensions and terrors, my brethren, surprising as tliey may appear to us, have nothing which ought really to fill us with surprise. If to apply to a man's self the fruits of the death of Jesus Christ were a sim- ple act of the understanding, a simple move- ment of the heart, a simple acknowledgment of the tongue; if to apply to a man's self the fruits of the death of Christ were nothing more tliaii what a hardened sinner is capable of 234 ON THE FEAR OF DEATH. [Ser. LXXX. figuring to himself, or than what is proscribed to him by an accommodating casuist, you would not see a single Christian afraid of death. But you know it well, the gospel as.sures you of it, and the dictates of your own conscience confirm the truth, to make application of the fruits of Christ's death is a complication of du- ties, which require attention, time, labour, in- tensencss of exertion, and must be the business of a whole life. The greatest part of those who bear the Christian name, neglect this work while in health; is it any wonder tliat they should tremble when overtaken by llie hour of death? Call to remembrance the three ways in which Clirist has disarmed death. He has spoiled the king of terrors, by demonstrating to us the immortality of the soul, by making atonement for our transgressions, by acquiring for us an eternal felicity. But what effect will the death of Christ have upon us, as a proof of the doctrine of the immortality of the soul, unless we study those proofs, unless 'we seriously meditate upon them, unless we endeavour to feel their force, unless we guard against the difficulties which the unhappy age we live iu opposes to those great princi[)les? What effect can the death of Christ have upon us, as a sacrifice offered up to divine jus- tice for our sins, unless we feel the plenitude of that sacrifice, unless we make application of it to the conscience, unless we present it to God in the exercises of a living faith; above all, unless by the constant study of ourselves, unless by unremitting, by persevering exer- tion, we place ourselves under the terms, and invest ourselves with the cliaracters of those who have a right to apply to themselves the fruits of this sacrifice? What effect can the death of Christ produce upon us, considered as the pledge of a blessed eternity, unless the soul be powerfully im- pressed with that eternity, unless the heart be penetrated with a sense of what it is; if we are at pains to efface tlie impression which those interesting objects may liave made upon us; if hardly moved by those great truths which ought to take entire possession of the mind, we instantly plunge ourselves into the vortex of worldly pursuits, witliout taking time to avail ourselves of that happy disposition, and, as it were, purposely to withdraw from those gracious emotions which seemed to have laid hold of ua' Ah! my brethren, if such be the conduct of the generality of professing Christians, as we are under the necessity of admitting, when, not satisfied with observing their deportment in the house of God, and from a pulpit, we follow them into life, and look through those fiimsy veils of piety and devotion which they had assun)ed for an hour in a worsliipping assembly; if such, I say, be the conduct of the generality of professing Christians, tiieir terror at the a])proach of death exhibits nothing to excite astonishment. The grand conclusion to be deduced, my brethren, from all these refiections, is not an abstract conclusion and of difficult comprehen- sion: it is a conclusion easy, natural, and which would spontaneously present itself to the mind, were wo not disposed to practise de- ception upon ourselves; the grand conclusion to be deduced from these reflections is this: If wo wish to die like Christians, we must live like Christians. If we would wish to behold with firmness the dissolution of this body, we must study the proofs which establish the truth of the inunortality of the soul, so as to be able to say with St. Paul, " I know whom I have believed, and 1 am persuaded he is able to keep that which I have committed unto him against that day," 2 Tim. i. 12. Would we wish to have a security against fear at that tremendous tribunal, before which we must appear to receive judgment, we must enter into the conditions of the covenant of grace, that we may be able to say with the same apostle, "I am the chief of siimers, a blasphe- mer, and a persecutor, and injurious; but I obtained mercy," 1 Tim. i. 13. Would we be strengthened to resign, without murmuring, all the objects around us, and to which we are so fondly attached, we must learn to disengage ourselves from them betimes; to place our heart betimes where onr treasure is, Matt. vi. 21, that we may be able to say with the Psalmist, " Whom have I in heaven but thee? and there is none upon earth that I desire be- sides thee," Ps. Ixxiii. 25. If after we have exerted our utmost efforts, we still find our frail flesh and blood com- plaining at the prospect of approaching disso- lution; if the heart still repines at the hard necessity imposed upon us of dying; let us strive to recover confidence, not only against this apprehension, but likewise against the doubts which it might e.xcite against our sal- vation. This fear of death is, in such a case, not a crime, but an infirmity. It is indeed a melancholy proof that we are not yet perfect, but it is not a blot which obliterates our Chris- tianity. It is an expression of timidity, not of mistrust. It is a calamity which prevents our enjoying all the sweets of a triumphant death, but not an obstacle to prevent our dying in safety. Let us be of good courage. What have we to fear? God is an affectionate friend, who will not desert us in the hour of adversity. God is not a cruel being, who takes pleasure in rendering us miserable. He is a God whose leading characters are goodness and mercy. He stands engaged to render us hap- py. Let us not distrust his promise; it has been ratified by t!ie most august zeal which suspicion itself could exact, b\- the blood of the spotless Lamb, which is sprinkled, not on the threshold of our doors, but on our inmost con- science. Tlie exterminating angel will re- spect that blood, will presume to aim no stroke at the soul which bears the mark of it. Atler all, my dearly beloved bretliren, if the most advanced Christians, at the first glimpse of death, and in the first moments of a mortal distemper, are unable to screeti them- selves from the fear of deatii; if the flesh mur- murs, if nature complains, if faith itself seems to stagger; reason, religion, but especially the aid of God's spirit, granted to the prayers, to the importunities a.siending to heaven from the lips of such a ('hristian, dissipate all those terrors. The mii^lily God suflers himself to be overcome, when assailed by supplication and tears. God resists not the sighs of a be- Ser. LXXX.] ON THE FEAR OF DEATH. 235 liever, who from his bed of languishing strclclies out his arms towards him, who entreats him to sanctify tlie sutVcrings wliich he endures, wlio implores his support in the agonies of death, who cries out from the centre of a soul trans- forted with holy confidence, " Into tliine hand commit my spirit: tiiou hast redeemed me, O Lord God of truth," Ps. xxxi. 5. Receive it, O my God. Remove from me those piian- toms wiiich disturb my repose. Raise mo u]), take mo to thyself " Teacii my hands to war, and my fingers to fight. Draw me, I sliall run after thee." Kindle my devotion; and let my inflamed desires serve as a chariot of fire to transport me to heaven. The clouds, thick- ened around me by " Ilim wlio liad tiie power of death," are scattering; the veil which cov- ered eternity insensibly withdraws; the under- standing is convinced; the heart melts; tiio flamo of love bums brigiit; the return of holy meditations, which formerly occupied the soul, disclose the grand object of religion, and the bed of death is transformed into a field of vic- tory. Many of your pastors, Christians, have been the joyful spectators of such a triumph. May all who hear me tiiis day be partakers of tlieso divine consolations! May that in- valuable sacrifice which Jesus Christ offered up to his father in our behalf, i)y cleansing us from all our guilt, deliver us from all our fears! May tiiis great High Priest of tiie new covenant i)ear engraven on his breast all these mystical Israelites, now that ho is entered into the holiest of all! And when tiiese fotmdations of sand, on which this clay tabernacle nists, shall crumble away from under our feet, may we all be cnaldcd to raise our departing spirits out of the ruins of tiie world, that they may repose in the mansions of immortality! Hapjiy, beyond exjiression, beyond conception happy, to die in such sentiments as these! God of his in- finite mercy grant it may be our blessed attain- ment! To him be honour and glory for ever. Amen 8ERIIIONS REV. JAMES SAURIN, TRANSLATED BY THE REV. JOSEPH SUTCLIFFE. PREFACE, BY THE REV. JOSEPH SUTCLIFFE. Saurin's Sermoms, ono hundred and sixty- oiujlit in number, arc comprised in twelve vo- lumes. I have read them with edihcalion and deliortant subjects witliout consulting his understanding, given to guide and condacl him: — The dignity of a Christian; for the gos- pel reveals a God who may be known, John iv. 22; it requires us to "prove all things, and to hold fast that which is good," 1 Tliess. v. 21. The dignity of a Protestant; for it is tiie foundation and distinguishing article of the Reformation, that submission to human creeds is a bondage unworthy of him vi^hoin the " Son has made free." Inquiry, knowledge, and in- vestigation, are the leading points of religion, and the first step, so to speak, by which we are to "seek the Lord." The second disposition is sanctification. The truths proposed in Scripture for examination and belief, are not presented to excite vain s])e- culations, or gratify curiosity. They are truliis designed to produce a divine iiilluence on the heart and lite. "He tliat saith, 1 know him, and keepeth not his connnandmeiits, is a liar. If you know these things, happy are you, if you do them. Pure religion and undeHled be- fore God and the Father, is this, to visit the fatherless and the widows in their afliiction,'" 1 John ii. 4; John xiii. 1"; James i. 27. When we speak of Christian obedience, we do not mean some transient acts of devotion; we mean a submission proceeding from a source of ho- liness, which, however mixed with imperfec- tion in its eflbrts, piety is always the predomi- nant disposition of the heart, and virtue tri- umphant over vice. These two points being so established, that no one can justly dispute them, we may prove, I am confident, from our own constitution, that a conversion deferred ought always to be sus- pected; and that, by delerring tlio work, we risk the forfeiture of the grace. — Follow us in these arguments. This is true, first, with regard to the light essential to conversion. Here, my brethren, it were to have been wished, that each of you had studied the human constitution; that you had attentively considered the mode in which the soul and body are united, the close ties which subsist between tlie intelligence that thinks within, and the body to which it is united. We are not pure spirit; the soul is a lodger in matter, and on the temperature of this matter depends tiie success of our researches after truth, and consequently after religion. Now, my lirethren, every season and every period of life are not alike proper for disjiosing the body to the happy temperature, which leaves the soul at liberty for reflection and thought. The j)owt!rs of the brain fail with years, the sen.scs becomi; dull, the spirits eva in the veins, and a cloud of darkness envelopes all the faculties. Hence the drowsiness of aged people: hence the difficulty of receiving now impressions; hence the return of ancient objects; hence the obstinacy in their senti- ments; hence the almost universal defect of knowledge and compreiiension; whereas peo- ple less advanced in age have usually an ea^y mind, a retentive memory, a liappy concep- tion, and a teachable temper. It' we, there- fore, defer the acquisition of religious know- ledge till age has chilled the blood, obscur- ed the understanding, enfeebled tiie memory, and confirmed prejudice and obstinacy, it is almost impossible to be in a situation to acquire that information without which our religion can neither be agreeable to God, afford us solid consolation in afliiction, nor motives sufficient against temptation. if this reflection do not strike you with suffi- cient force, follow man in the succeeding pe- riods of life. The love of pleasure predomi- nates in his early years, and the dissipations of the world allure him from the study of reli- gion. The sentiments of conscience are heard, however, notwithstanding the tumult of a thousand passions: they suggest that, in order to peace of conscience, he must either be reli- gious, or j)ersuade himself that religion is alto- gether a phantom. What does a man do in this situation? He becomes eitlier incredulous or superstitious. He believes witliout exami- nation and discussion, that he has been edu- cated in the bosom of truth; that the religion of his fatliers is the only one which can be good; or rather, he regards religion only on the side of those difiicullies which infidels op- pose, and employs all his strength of intellect to augment those difficulties, and to evade their evidence. Thus he dismisses religion to escape his conscience, and becomes an obsti- nate Atheist, to be calm in crimes. Thus he wastes his youth, time flies, years accumulate, notions become strong, impressions fixed in the brain, and the brain gradually loses that sup- pleness of which we now spake. A period arrives in which these passions seem to subside; and as they were the sole cause of rendering that man superstitious or incredulous, it seems that incredulity and su- perstition sliould vanish with the passions. Ixjt us ])rofit by the circumstance; let us endeavour to dissi])ate the illusion; let us summons the man to go back to the first source of its errors; let us talk; let us prove; let us reason; but all is unavailing care; as it commonly happens that the aged talk of former times, and recol- lect the facts which struck them in their youth, while present occurrences leave no trace on tlio memory, so the old ideas continually run in their mind. Let us farther remark, that the soul not only loses with lime the facility of discerning error from truth, but after having for a considerable time habituated itself to converse solely with sensible objects, it is almost impossible to at- tach it to any other. See that man who has for a course of years been employed in audit- ing accounts, in examining the nature of trade, the prudence of his partners, the fidelity of his rrespondenls; j)r(i]iose to liim, for instance, porate, the memory weakens, the blood chills | the solution of a problem; desire him to inves- Ser. LXXXI.] ON THE DELAY OF CONVERSION. 243 tigato the cause of a phenomenon, the founda- tion of a system, and you require an impossi- bility. The niiiid, however, of this man, who finds tliese subjects so dilFicult, and tiie mind of the philosopher who investigates them witli ease, are formed much in the same way. All the ditVerence between them is, that the latter lias accustomed himself to the contemplation of mental objects, whereas the oilier has vo- luntarily debased himself to sordid pursuits, degraded his understanding, and enslaved it to sensible objects. After having passed our life in this sort of business, without allowing time for reflection, religion becomes an abyss; the clearest truth, mysterious; the sligiitcst study, fatigue; and,, when we would fix our thoughts, they are captivated with involuntary deviations. In a word, tiie final inconvenience which re- sults from deferring tiic study of religion, is a distraction and dissipation proceeding from the objects whicii prepossess the mind. The va- rious scenes of life, presented to the eye, make a strong impression on the soul; and the ideas will ol)trude even when we would wish to di- vert the attention. Hence distinguished em- ployments, eminent situations, and professions which require intense api)lication, are not connnonly the most com])atible with salvation. Not only because they rob us, while actually employed, of the time wo should devote to God, but because they pursue us in defiance of our etlbrts. We come to the Lord's house with our bullocks, with our doves, with our specu- lations, with our ships, with our bills of ex- change, with our titles, with our equipage, as those profane Jews whom Jesus Christ once aliased from the temple in Jerusalem. There is no need to be a philosopher to perceive the force of this truth; it requires no evidence but the history of your own life. How often, when retired to the closet to examine your conscience, have worldly speculations interrupted your duty! How often, when prostrated in the pre- sence of God, has this heart which you came to offer him, robbed you of your devotion by pursuing earthly objects! How often, when engaged in sacrificing to the Lord a sacrifice of repentance, has a thousand flights of birds come to annoy the sacred service! Evident proof of the truth we advance! Every day we see new objects: these objects leave ideas; these ideas recur; and the contracted soul, unable to attend to the ideas it already possesses, and to those it would acquire, becomes incapable of religious investigation. Happy is the man de- scended from enlightened parents, and instruct- ed, like Timothy, in the Holy Scriptures from his infancy! Having consecrated his early life to the study of truth, he has only, in a dying and retired age, to collect the consolations of a religion magnificent in its promises, and incon- testable in ils proofs. Hence we conclude, with regard to whatever is speculative in our salvation, that conversion becomes more difficult in proportion as it is de- ferred. We conclude with regard to the light of faith, that we must " seek the Lord while he may be foimd, and call upon him while he is near." We must study religion while aided by a collected mind, and an easy conception. We must, while young, elevate the heart above sensible objects, and fill the soul with sacred trutliB before the world has engrossed its ca- pacity. This truth is susceptible of a much clearer demonstration, when we consider religion with regard to practice. And as the subject turns on piinciplcs to which we usually pay but slight attention, we are especially obliged to request, if you would edify by tliis discourse, that you would hear attentively. There are subjecls less connected, which may be compre- hended, notwithstanding a momentary absence of the mind; but this requires an unremitting attenlion, as we lose the whole by neglecting the smallest part. Ilcincmbcr, in the first place, what wo have already hinted, that in order to true conver- sion, it is not sufiîcicnt to evidence some par- tial acts of love to God: the principle must be so profound and permanent, that this love, tliough mixed with some defects, shall ever be the predominant disposition of the heart. We should not apprehend that any of you would dispute this assertion, if we should content our- selves with pressing it in a vague and general way; and if we had no design to draw conclu- sions directly opposite to the notions of many, and to the practice of most. But at the close of tiiis discourse, unable to evade the conse- quences which follow the principle, we are strongly persuaded you will renew the attack on the principle itself, and deny that to which you have already assented. Hence we ought not to proceed before we are agreed what we ought to believe upon this head. We ask you, brethren, whetlier you believe it requisite to love God in order to salvation? We can scarce- ly think that any of our audience will answer in the negative; at least we should fear to speak with much more confidence on this point, and on the necessity of acquiring instruc- tion in order to conversion, than to supersede the obligation of loving God, because it would derogate from the dignity of man, who is ob- liged to love his benefactor; from the dignity of a Christian, educated under a covenant which denounces anathemas against those who love not the Lord Jesus; from the dignity of a Protestant, who cannot be ignorant how all the divines of our communion have exclaimed against the doctrine of Rome on the subject of penance. Recollect, my brethren, that we are agreed upon this point; recollect in the subsequent parts of this discourse, that, in order to conver- sion, we must have a radical and habitual love to God. This principle being allowed, all that we have to say against the delay of conversion, becomes self-established. The whole question is reduced to this; if in a dying hour, if at the extremity of life, if in a short and fleeting mo- ment, you can acquire this habit of divine love, which we have all agreed is necessary to salva- tion; if it can be acquired in one moment, then we will preach no more against delay: you act with propriety. Put off", defer, procrastinate even to the last moment, and by an extraordi- nary precaution, never begin to seek the plea- sures of piety till you are abandoned by the pleasures of the world, and satiated with its in- famous delights. But if time, if labour, are re- quired to form this genuine source of love to God, the necessity of which we have already 244 ON THE DELAY OF CONVERSION. [Ser. LXXXI. proved, you sliould frankly acknowledge the folly of postponing bo important a work for a ■ingle moment; that it is the extreme of mad- ness to defer the task to a dying hour; and that the proj)hct cannot too highly exalt his voice in crying to all who regard their salvation, " Seek ye the Lord while he may bo found; call ye upon him while he is near." This bemg allowed, we proceed to establish on two principles, all that we have to advance upon this subject. First, we cannot acquire any habit without perfurining the correspondent actions. Language, for instance, is a thing extremely complex. To speak, requires a thousand playful motions of the body, a thou- sand movements to form the elements, and a thousand sounds to perfect the articulation. All these at first are extremely difficult; they appear quite impossible. There is but one way to succeed, that is, to persevere in touching the keys, articulating the sounds, and producing the movements; then what seemed at first im- possible becomes surmountable, and what be- comes surmountable is made easy, and what is once easy becomes natural: we speak with a fluency which would be incredible were it not confirmed by experience. The spirits flow to the parts destined for these operations, the channels open, the difliculties recede, the voli- tions are accomplished; just as a stream, whose waters are turned by the strength of hand and aid of engines, falls by its own weight to places where it could not have been carried but with vast fatigue. Secondly, when a habit is once rooted, it be- comes difficult or impossible to correct it, in proportion as it is confirmed. We see in the human body, that a man, by distraction or in- dolence, may suffer his person to degenerate to a wretched situation; if he continue, his wretchedness increases; the body takes its mould; what was a negligence, becomes a ne- cessity; what was a want of attention, becomes a natural and an insurmountable imperfection. Let us apply these principles to our subject, and avail ourselves of their force to dissipate, if possible, the mistakes of mankind concern- ing their conversation and their virtues. Habits of the mind are formed as habits of the body; the mental habits become as incorrigible as those of the latter. First, then, as in the acquisition of a corpo- real habit, we must perform the correspondent actions, so in forming the habits of religion, of love, humility, patience, charity, we must ha- bituate ourselves to the duties of patience, hu- mility, and love. We never acquire these vir- tues but by devotion to their influence: it is not sufficient to be sincere in wishes to attain them; it is not sufficient to form a sudden resolution; we must return to tl>o charge, and by the con- tinued recurrence of actions pursued and re- peated, ac(]uiro such a source of holiness as may justify us in saying, that such a man is humble, patient, charitable, and full of divine love. Have you never attended those power- ful and pathetic sermouy, which forced convic- tion on the most ot)durate iHiarts.' Have you never seen tliDse pale, trembling, and weeping assemblies? Have you never seen the hearers aflected, alarmed, and rewilved to reform their lives? And iiave you never been surprised to sec, after a short interval, each return to those vices he had regarded with horror, and neglect those virtues which had appeared to him so amiable.' Whence proceeded so sudden a change.' What occasioned a defection which apparently contradicts every notion we have formed of the human mind? It is here. This piety, this devotion, those tears proceeded from a transient cause, and not from a habit formed by a course of actions, and a fund acquired by labour and diligence. The cause ceasing, the effects subside! the preacher is silent, and the devotion is closed. Whereas the actions of life, proceeding from a source of worldly aflec- tions, incessantly return, just as a torrent, ob- structed by the raising of a bank, takes. an ir- regular course, and rushes forth with impetu- osity whenever the bank is removed. Farther, we must not only engage in the of- fices of piety to form the habits, but they must be frequent; just as we repeat acts of vice to form a vicious habit. Can you be ignorant, my brethren, of the reason? Who does not feel it in his own breast' I carry it in my own wick- ed heart; I know it by the sad tests of senti- ment and experience. The reason is obvious; habits of vice are found conformable to our na- tural propensity; they are found already formed within, in the germ of corruption which we bring into the world. " We are shapen in ini- quity, and conceived in sin," Ps. li. 7. We make a rapid progress in the career of vice. We arrive, without difficulty, at perfection in the works of darkness. A short course suflîcea to become a master in the school of the world and of the devil; and it is not at all surprising, that a man should at once become luxurious, covetous, and implacable, because he carries in his own breast the principles of all these vices. But the habits of holiness are directly oppos- ed to our constitution. They obstruct all its propensities, and offer, if I may so speak, vio- lence to nature. When we wish to become converts, we enter on a double task: we must demolish, we must build; we must demolish corruption, before we can erect the edifice of grace. We must level mortal blows at the old man, before the new can be revived. We must, like those Jews who raised the walls of Jerusalem, work with " the sword in one hand, and the tool in the other," Neh. iv. 17, equally assiduous to produce that which is not, as to destroy that which already exists. Such is the way, and the only way, by which we can expect the establishment of grace in the heart; it is by unremitting labour, by perseve- rance in duty, by perpetual vigilance. Now, who is it; who is there among you that can enter into this thought, and not perceive the folly of those who delay their conversion? We imagine that a word from a minister, a pros- pect of death, a sudden revolution, will instan- taneously produce a perfection of virtue' O wretched philosophy! extravagance of the sin- ner! idle reverie of self-love and imagination, . that overturns the whole system of original corruption, and the mechanism of the human frame! I should as soon expect to find a man, who would play skilfully on an instrument without having acquired the art by practice and application; I should as soon expect to find a man who would speak a language without Ser. LXXXI.] ON THE DELAY OF CONVERSION. 245 having studied tho words, and surmounted the fatigue and difficulty of pronunciation. The speech of the one would be a barbarous subject of derision, and unintelligible; and the notes of the other would bo discords destitute of soft- ness and harmony. Such is the folly of tiie man who would become pious, patient, hum- ble, and charitable, in one moment, by a sim- ple wish of the soul, without acquiring those virtues by assiduity and care. All the acts of piety you shall see him ])erfonTi, are but emo- tions proceeding fron) a heart touched, indeed, but not converted. His devotion is a rash zeal, which would usurp tiie kingdom of heaven ra- ther than take it by violence. His confession is an avowal extorted by anguish which the Al- mighty has suddenly inflicted, and by remorse of conscience, rather than sacred contrition of heart. His charity is extorted by the fears of death, and the horrors of hell. Dissipate these fears, calm that anguish, appease these terrors, and you will see no more zeal, no more chari- ty, no more tears; his heart, habituated to vice, will resume its wonted course. This is the con- sequence of our first principle; we shall next examine the result of the second. We said, that when a habit is once rooted, it becomes difficult to surmount it, and alto- gether insurmountable, when suffered to as- sume an absolute ascendancy. This principle suggests a new reflection on the sinner's con- duct who delays his conversion; a very impor- tant reflection, which we would wish to impress on the mind of our audience. In the early course of vice, we sin with a power by which we could abstain, were we to use violence; hence we flatter ourselves that we shall pre- serve that precious power, and be able to eradi- cate vice from the heart, whensoever we shall form the resolution. Wretched philosophy still; another illusion of self-attachment, a new charm of which the devil avails himself for our destruction. Because, when we have long con- tinued in sin, when we are advanced in age, when reformation has been delayed for a long course of years, vice assumes the sovereignty, and we are no longer our own masters. You intimate to us a wish to be converted; but when do you mean to enter on the work? To-morrow, without farther delay. — And are you not very absurd in deferring till to-mor- row? To-day, when you wished to undertake it, you shrunk on seeing what labour it would cost, what difficulties must be surmounted, what victories must be obtained over your- selves. From this change you divert your eyes: to-day you still wish to follow your course, to abandon your heart to sensible objects, to fol- low your passions, and gratify your concupis- cence. But to-morrow you intimate a wish of recalling your thoughts, of citing your wick- ed propensities before the bar of God, and pro- nouncing their sentence. O sophism of self- esteem! carrying with it its own refutation. For if this wicked propensity, strengthened to a certain point, appears invincible to-day, how shall it bo otherwise to-morrow, when to the actions of past days you shall have added those of this day! If this sole idea, if this mere thought of labour, induce you to defer to-day, what is to support you to-morrow under tlie real labour? Farther, there follows a conse- quence from these reflections, which may ap- pear unheard of to those who are unaccustom- ed to examine the result of a principle; but which may perhajis convince those who know how to use their reason, and have some know- ledge of human nature. It seems to me, that, since habits are formed by actions, when those habits are continued to an age in which the brain acquires a certain consistency, correction serves merely to interrupt the actions already established. It would be sufficient in early life, while the brain is yet flexible, and induced by its own texture to lose imjiressions as readily as it ac- quired them; at this age, I say, to quit the ac- tion would bo sufficient to reform the habit. But when the brain has acquired the degree of consistency already mentioned, the simple sus- pension of the act is not sufficient to eradicate the habit; because by its texture it is disposed to continue the same, and to retain the impres- sions already received. Hence, when a man has grovelled a conside- rable time in vice, to quit it is not a sufficient reform; for him there is but one remedy, that is, to perform actions directly opposed to those which had formed the habit. Suppose, for in- stance, that a man shall have lived in avarice for twenty years, and been guilty of ten acts of extort'on every day. Suppose he shall af- terward have a desire to reform; Ihat he shall devote ten years to the work; that he shall every day do ten acts of charity opposite to those of his avarice; these ten years (consider- ing the case here according to the course of nature only, for we allow interior and super- natural aids in the conversion of a sinner, as we shall prove in the subsequent discourses,) would those ten acts be sufficient perfectly to eradicate covetousness from this man? It seems contrary to the most received maxims. You have heard that habits confirmed to a certain degree, and continued to a certain age, are never reformed but by a number of opposite actions proportioned to those which had form- ed the habit. The character before us has lived twenty years in the practice of avarice, and but ten in the exercise of charity, doing only ten acts of benevolence daily during that period; he has then arrived at an age in which he has lost the facility of receiving new impressions. We cannot, therefore, I think, affirm that those ten years are adequate perfectly to eradicate the vice from his heart. After all, sinners, you still continue in those habits, aged in crimes, heaping one bad deed upon another, and flat- tering yourselves to reform, by a wish, by a glance, by a tear, without difficulty or conflict, habits the most inveterate. Such are the reflections suggested by a knowledge of the hu- man frame with regard to the delay of conver- sion. To this you will oppose various objec- tions which it is of importance to resolve. You will say, that our principles are contra- dicted by experience; that we daily see persons who have long indulged a vicious habit, and who have renounced it at once without repeat- ing the opposite acts of virtue. The fact is possible, it is indeed undeniable. It may hap- pen in five cases, which, when fully examined, will be found not at all to invalidate what haa already been established. 246 ON THE DELAY OF CONVERSION. [Ser. LXXXI. 1 . A man possessing tlie free use of his facul- ties may by an ettbrt of reflection extricate himself from a vicious habit, I allow; but we have superseded the objection, by a case appa- rently applicable. We have cautiously antici- pated, and often assumed the solution. We speak of those only, who have attained an ad- vanced age, and have lost the facility of acquir- ing new dispositions. Have you ever seen per- sons of sixty or seventy years of age renounce their avarice, their pride; some favourite pas- sion, or a family prejudice? 2. A man placed in a hopeless situation, and under an extraordinary stroke of Providence, may instantly reform a habit, I grant; but that does not destroy our principles. We have not included in our reflections those extraordinary visitations wliich Providence may employ to subdue the sinner. When we said that the re- formation of a vicious habit would require a ntmiber of acts which have some proportion to those which formed it, we supposed an equality of impressions in those actions, and that each action would be equal to that wo wished to de- stroy. 3. A man may suddenly reform a habit on the reception of new ideas, and on hearing some truths of which he was ignorant before, I also acknowledge; but this proves nothing to the point. We spoke of a man born in the bosom of the churcli, educated in the principles of Christianity, and who has reflected a thousand and a thousand times on the truths of religion; and on whom we have pressed a thousand and a thousand times the motives of repentance and regeneration; but, being now hardened, he can hear nothing new on those subjects. 4. A man ma}', I allow, on the decay of his faculties, suddenly reform a bad habit; but what has this to do with the renovation which God requires? In this case, the effect of sin vanishes away, but the principle remains. A particular act of the bad habit yields to weakness and ne- cessity, but the source still subsists, and wholly predominates in the man. 5. In fine, a man whose life has been a con- tinued warfare between vice and virtue; but with whom vice for the most part has had the ascendancy over virtue, may obtain in his last sickness, the grace of real conversion. There is, however, something doubtful in the case; conversion on a death-bed being difllcult or im- possible; because between one unconverted man and another there is often a vast diflcrence; the if I may so speak, is within a step of the grave, but the other has a vast course to run, The former has subdued his habits, has already made a progress, not indeed so far as to attain, but so far as to approacii a. state of regenera- tion: this man may, perhaps, be changed in a moment: but Iiow can he, who has already wa.sted life in ignorance and vice, efl'cctuate .so great a change in a few days, or a fow hours? We have tlicrefore proved our point tiiat the first objection is destitute of force. You will, however, propose a second: you will say, that this [)rinciple proves too much, that if we cannot be saved without a fund and habit of holiness, and if this habit cannot be acquired without |)erseveranco in duty, wo ex- not suflîcient time to form a counterpoise to the force of their criminal habits. This difliculty naturally presents itself to the mind; but the solution we give does not so properly accord with this discourse; it shall be better answered in tlic exercises which shall follow, wlicn we shall draw our arguments from the Scriptures. We shall then affirm that when a sinner groans under the burden of his corruption, and sincerely desires conversion, God aflbrds his aid, and gives him supernatural povver tect of approaching death may make an impression to undeceive the sinner; that the veil of cor- ruption raised at the close of life, may induce a man to yield at once to the dictates of con- science, as one walking hastily towards a pre- cipice, would start back on removing the fatal bandage which concealed the danger into which he was about to fall. On this ground, I would await you, breth- ren. Is it then on a death-bed, that you found your hopes? We will pledge ourselves to prove, that so far from this being the most happy season, it is exactly the reverse. The reflections we shall make on this subject, are much more calculated to strike the mind than those already advanced, which require some penetration, but it sufliccs to have eyes to per- ceive the force of tho.se which now lollow. We will not absolutely deny the possibility of the fact on which the objection is founded. Wc allow that a man, who with composure of mind sees the decay of his earthly house, and regards death with attentive eyes, may enter into the requisite dispositions. Death being considered as near, enables him to know the world, to discover its vanity, emptiness, and to- cludo from salvation those deeply contrite sin- tal insufficiency. A man who has but a few ners who having wasted life in vice, have now I moments to live, and who sees that his honour, Ser. LXXXI.] ON THE DELAY OF CONVERSION. 247 his riches, his titles, }iis grandeur, and the whole universe united for liis aid, can afford him no consolation: a man so situated knows the vanity of the world better than tlie great- est philosophers, and the severest anchorets: hence he may detacii his heart. We would oven wish that the Deity should accept of such a conversion, should be satisfied with one who does not devote himself to virtue, till the occa- sions of vice are removed, and should receive the like sinner at the extremities of life; it is certain, however, tiiat all these suppositions are so far from tiivouring the delay of conver- sion, as to demonstrate its absurdity. — How can we presume on what may happen in the hour of death? Of how many dilllculties is this illusory scheme susceptible! Shall 1 die in a bed calm and composed? Shall I have presence and recollection of mind? Shall 1 avail myself of these circumstances to eradi- cate vice from the heart, and to estabhsh there the kingdom of righteousness? For, Hrst, who is to guarantee that you shall die in this situation? To how many disastrous accidents, to how many tragic events are you not exposed? Does not every creature, every substance which surrounds you, menace both your health and your life? If your hopes of conversion are founded on a supposition of this kind, you must fear the whole universe. Are you in the house? you must fear its giving way, and dissipating by the fall all your expec- tations. Are you in the open field? you must fear lest, the earth, opening its caverns, should swallow you up, and thus elude your hope. Are you on tiie waters? you must fear to see in every wave a messenger of death, a mi- nister of justice, and an avenger of your luke- warmness and delay. Amidst so many well- founded fears, what repose can you enjoy? If any one of these accidents should overtake you, say now, what would become of your foolish prudence? Who is it that would then study for you the religion you have neglected? Who is it that would then slied for you tears of repentance? Who is it that would then quench for you the devouring fire, kindled against your crimes, and ready to consume you? Is a tragic death a thing unknown? What year elapses undistinguisiied by visitations of this kind? What campaign is closed without pro- ducing myriads? In the second place, we will suppose that you shall die a natural death. Have you ever seen the dying? Do you presume that one can be in a proper state for thought and reflection, when seized with those presages of death, which announce his approach? When one is seized with those insupportable and piercing pains which take every reflection from the soul? When exposed to those stupors which benumb the brightest wit, and the most pierc- ing genius? To those profound lethargies which render unavailing, motives the most powerful, and exhortations tiie most patiietic? To those frequent reverses which present phantoms and deplorable situation, and to execute the chi- merical projects of conversion? In the third ])lace, we will suppose that you shall, by the peculiar favour of heaven, be vi- sited with one of those mild complaints, which conduct imperceptibly to the grave, and unat- tended with pain; would you tiien be more hap- pily disposed for conversion? Are we not daily witnesses of what passes on those occasions? Our friends, our family, our self-esteem, all unite to make us augur a favourable issue, whenever the affliction is not desperate: and not thinl;ing this the time of death, we think also it ought not to be the time of conversion. After having disputed with God the fine days of healtii, we regret to give him the lucid in- tervals of our affliction. We would wish hira to receive the soul at the precise moment when it hovers on our lips. We hope to live, and hope inflames desire; the wish to live more and more enroots the love we had for the world; and " the friendship of this world is enmity with God." Meanwhile the afttiction extends itself, the disease takes its course, the body weakens, the spirits droop, and death arrives even before we had scarcely thought that we were mortal. Fancy yourselves, in short, to die in the most favourable situation, tranquil and com- posed, without delirium, without stupor, with- out lethargy. Fancy also, that stripped of prejudice, and the chimerical hope of reco- very, you should know that your end is near. I ask whether the single thouglit, the sole idea, that you shall soon die, be not capable of de- priving you of the composure essential to the work of your salvation? Can a man habitu- ated to dissipation, accustomed to care, de- voted to its maxims, see without confusion and regret, his designs averted, his hopes frustrated, his schemes subverted, tiie fashion of the world vanisliing before his eyes, the thrones erected, the books opened, and his soul cited before the tribunal of the Sovereign Judge? We have frequent occasions to observe, when attending the sick, that those wiio suffer the greatest an- guish, are not always the most distressed about their sins, however deplorable their state may be, their pains so far engross the capacity of the soul, as to obstruct their paying attention to what is most awful, the image of approach- ing death. But a man who sees himself ap- proaching the grave, and looks on his exit un- disturbed with pains; a man who considers death as it really is, suffers sometimes greater anguish than those which can arise from the acutcst disease. Eut what shall I say of the multitude of anxieties attendant on this fatal hour? Physi- cians must be called in, advice must be taken, and endeavours used to support this tottering tabernacle. He must appoint a successor, make a will, bid adieu to tlie world, weep over his family, embrace his friends, and detach his aflections. Is there time then, is there time amid so many afflictive objects, amid the tu- chimeras, and fill the soul with a thousand | mult of so many alarms; is there time to ex- alarm.s? My brethren, would we always wish to deceive ourselves? Look, foolish man; look on this pale extended corpse, look again on this now dying carcass: where is the mind which has fortitude to recollect itself in this amine religion, to review the circumstances of a vanishing life, to restore the wealth illegally acquired, to repair the tarnished reputation of his neighbour, to repent of his sin, to examine his heart, and weigh those distinguished mo- 248 ON THE DELAY OF CONVERSION. [Ser. LXXXI. lives which prompt us to holiness? My breth- ren, whenever we devote ourselves entirely to the great work; whenever we employ all our bodily powers, all our mental faculties; when- ever we employ the whole of life it is scarcely saflicient, how then can it be done by a busy, wandering, troubled, and departing spirit' Hence the third ditticulty vanishes of its own accord; hence we may maintain as permanent, the principles we have discussed, and the con- sequences we have deduced. Now, we are fully convinced that those of you who know how to reason, will not disj)ute these principles; I say those who know how to reason; because it is impossible, but among two or three thousand persons, there must be found some eccentric minds, who deny the clearest and most evident truths. If there are among our hearers, persons who believe that a man can effectuate conversion by his own strength, it would not be proper for them to reject our principles, and they can have no right to com- plain. If you are orthodox, as we suppose, you cannot regard as false what we have now proved. Our maxims have been founded on the most rigid orthodoxy, on the inability of man, on the necessity of grace, on original cor- ruption, and on the various objections which our most venerable divines have opposed to the system of degenerate casuists. Hence, as I have said, not one of you can claim the right of disputing the doctrine we have taught. Heretics, orthodox, and all the world are oblig- ed to receive them, and you yourselves have nothing to object. But we, my brethren, we have many sad and terrific consequences to draw; but at the same time, consequences equally worthy of your regard. APPLICATION. First, you should reduce to practice the ob- servations we have made on conversion, and particularly the reflections we have endeavour- ed to establish, that in order to be truly rege- nerate, it is not suflicient to do some partial services for God, love must be the reigning dis- position of the heart. This idea ought to cor- rect the erroneous notions you entertain of a good life, and a happy death, that you can nei- ther know those things in this world, nor should you wish to know them. They are, indeed, visionaries who atfecl to be offended when we press those grand truths of religion, who would disseminate their ridiculous errors in the church, and incessantly cry in our ears, " Christians, take heed to yourselves; they shako the foun- dation of faith; the doctrine of assurance is a doctrine of fanaticism." My brethren, were this a subject less serious and grave, nothing would hinder us from ridi- culing all scruples of this nature. " Take heed to yourselves, for there is fanaticism in the doctrine:" wo would press you to love God with all your heart; we would press you to con- secrate to liini your whole liic; wo would in- duce you not to defer conversion, but prepare for a happy duatii by tiio continual exercise of repentance and picly. Is it not obvious that wo ought to be cautious of admitting such a doctrine, and that the church would bo in a de- plorable condition woro all her members adorned with those dispositions? But we have said al- ready, that the subject is too grave and serioua to admit of pleasantry. My brethren, " if any one preach to you another gospel than that which has been preach- ed, let him be accursed." If any one will pre- sume to attack those doctrines which the sa- cred authors have left in their writings, which your fathers have transmitted, which some of you have sealed with your blood, and nearly all of you with your riches and fortune; if any one presume to attack them, let the doc- tors refute, let the ecclesiastical sword cut, pierce, exscind, and excommunicate at a stroke the presumptuous man. But consider also that the end of all these truths is, to induce mankind to love their Maker. This is so es- sential, that we make no scruple to say, if there were one among the different Christian sects better calculated to make you holy than our communion, you ought to leave this in or- der to attach yourselves hereafter to the other. One of the first reasons which should induce ua to respect the doctrine of the incarnate God, the inward, immediate, and supernatural aids of the Spirit is, that there is nothing in the world more happily calculated to enforce the obligation of loving God. Return therefore, from your prejudices, irra- diate your minds, and acquire more correct ideas of a holy life, and a happy death. On this subject, we flatter and confuse ourselves, and willingly exclude instruction. We ima- gine, that provided we have paid during the ordinary course of life, a modified regard to devotion, we have but to submit to the will of God, whenever he may call us to leave the world; we imagine that we have worthily ful- filled the duties of life, fought the good fight, and have nothing to do but to put forth the hand to the crown of righteousness. " There is no fear," say they, " of the death of such a Christian; he was an Israelite indeed, he was an honest man, he led a good life." But what is the import of the words, he led a moral life? a phrase as barbarous in the expression as er- roneous in the sense; for if the phrase mean any thing, it is that he has fulfilled the duties of morality. But can you bear this testimony of the man we have just described; of a man who contents himself with avoiding the crimes accounted infauious in the world; but exclu- sively of that, he has neither fervour, nor zeal, nor patience, nor charity? Is this the man, who, you say, has led a moral life? What then is the morality which prescribes so broad a path? Is it not the morality of Jesus Christ^ The morality of Jesus Christ recommends si- lence, retirement, detachment from the world. The morality of Jesus Christ requires, that you " be merciful, as God is merciful; that you be perfect, as your Father which is in hea- ven is perfect." The morality of .îesus Christ requires, that you " love God with all your heart, with all your soul, and with all your mind:" and that if you cannot fully attain to this degree of perfection on earth, you should make continual efforts to approach it. Here you have the prcscril)ed morality of Jesua Christ. But the morality of which you speak, is the morality of the world, the morality of the devil, the morality of hell. Will such a morality enable you to sustain the judgintut Ser. LXXXI.] ON THE DELAY OF CONVERSION. 249 of God? Will it appease his justice? Will it close the gates of hell? Will it open the gates of immortality? Ah! let us form better ideas of religion. There is an infinite distance be- tween him, accounted by the world an lioncst man, and a real Christian; and if the love of God have not been tiie predominant disposi- tion of our heart, let us tremble, let us weep, or rather let us endeavour to reform. This is the first conclusion we deduce from our dis- course. The second turns on what we have said with regard to the force of habits; on tlie means of correcting the bad, and of acquiring the good. Recollect, that all these tilings cannot be done in a moment; recollect, tliat to succeed, we must be fixed and firm, returning a thousand and a thousand times to the charge. We should be the more struck with tlie pro- priety of this, if, as wc said in the body of this discourse, wo employed more time to reflect on ourselves. But most people live destitute of thought and recollection. We arc dissipated by exterior things, our eyes glance on every object, we ascend to the heavens to make new discoveries among the stars, wo descend into the deep, we dig into the bowels of the earth, we run even from the one to the other world, seeking fortune in the most remote regions, and we are ignorant of what occurs in our own breast. We have a body and a soul, nobtest works of God, and we never reflect on what passes within, how knowledge is acquir- ed, how prejudices originate, how habits are formed and fortified. If this knowledge served merely for intellectual pleasure, wc ought at least to tax our indolence with negligence: but being intimately connected with our salvation, we cannot but deplore our indiflercnce. Let us therefore study ourselves, and become ra- tional, if we would become regenerate. Let us learn the important truth already proved, that virtue is acquired only by diligence and application. Nor let it be here objected, that we ought not to talk of Christian virtues as of the other habits of the soul; and that the Holy Spirit can suddenly and fully correct our prejudices, and eradicate our corrupt propensities. With- out a doubt we need his aid — Yes, O Holy Spirit, source of eternal wisdom, however great may be my efforts and vigilance, wliat- ever endeavours I may use for my salvation, I will never trust to myself, never will I " ofler incense to my drag, or sacrifice to my net," never will 1 lean upon this " bruised reed," never will 1 view my utter insufticiency with- out asking thy support. But after all, let us not imagine that the operations of the Holy Spirit are like the fa- bulous enchantments celebrated in our ro- mances and poets. We have told you a thou- sand times, and we cannot too often repeat it, tiiat grace never destroys, but perfects nature. The Spirit of God will abundantly irradiate your mind, if you vigorously apply to religious contemplation; but he will not infuse the liglit if you disdain the study. The Spirit of God will abundantly establish the reign of grace in your heart, if you assiduously ai)ply to tlie work; but he will never do it in the midst of dissipation and sin. \Ve ought to endeavour Vol. II.— 32 to become genuine Christians, aa we endeavour to become profound philosophers, acute mathe- maticians, able preachers, enlightened mer- chants, intrepid commanders, by assiduity and labour, by close and constant application. This is perhaps a galling reflection. I am not astonished that it is calculated to e.xcite in most of you discouragement and fear: here is the most diflîcult part of our discourse. The doctrines or truths we discuss being unwel- come, and such as you would gladly evade, we must here suspend the thread of this discourse, tiiat you may feel the importance of our minis- try. For, after having established these truths, we must form the one or the other of these opinions concerning your conduct, either that you do " seek the Lord while he may be found," and endeavour, by a holy obstinacy, to establish truth in the mind, and grace in the heart; or that you exclude yourselves from salvation, and engage yourselves so afore in the way of destruction, as to occasion fear lest the Spirit of God, a thousand and a thousand times insulted, should for ever withdraw. What do you say, my brethren? Which of these opinions is best founded' To what end do you live? Does this unremitting vigilance, this holy obstinacy, this continual recurrence of watchfulness and care, form the object of your life? Ah! make no more problems of a trutli, which will shortly be but too well esta- blished. Ministers of Jesus Christ, sent by the God of vengeance, not to plant only, but also to root out; to build, but also to throw down; Jer. i. 10, to " proclaim the acceptable year of the Lord," Isa. Ixi. 2, but also to blow the alarming trumpet of Zion in the ears of the people ; awaken the conscience; brandish the awful sword of Divine justice; put in full effijct the most terrific truths of religion. In prosperous seasons the gospel supplies us with sweet and consoling passages; but we should now urge the most efiicacious, and not stay to adorn the house of God, when called to extin- guish a fire which tlireatcns its destruction. Yes, Christians, did we use concerning many of you, any other language, we should betray the sentiments of our hearts. You suffer the only period, proper for your salvation, to es- cape. You walk in a dreadful path, " the end tliereof is death," and your way of life tends absolutely to incapacitate you from tasting the sweetness of a happy death. It is true, if you call in some ministers at the close of life, they will periiaps have the weak- ness to promise, to the appearance of conver- sion, tiiat grace which is offered only to a genu- ine change of heart. But we solemnly declare, that if, after a life of inaction and negligence, tiiey shall speak peace to you on a death-bed, you ought not to depend on this kind of pro- I mises. You ought to class them with those ' things which ought not to be credited, though ' "an angel from heaven should come and preach I them." Ministers are but men, and weak as others. You call us to attend the dying, who ' have lived as most of the human kind. There I we find a sorrowful family, a father bathed in tears, a mother in despair: what would you have us to do? Would you have us speak ho- 1 nestly to the sick maa' Would you have ua 250 ON THE DELAY OF CONVERSION. [Ser. LXXXI. tell )iiin, that all this exterior oC re|)ciitanco is a vain phanluiii witiiuut Kuh.stuiicd, without reality? 'J'hiit anions a thousand Mck |>ersoiiH, whog Why this end of tlio days of Jerusalem's visitation? Why this iieaping up of the treasures of wrath? Why tliis utter defect of sacrifice for sin? All these passages, my brethren, are as so many sentences against our delays, against the con- tradictory notions we fondly form of the divine mercy, and of whici» we foolishly avail our- selves in order to sleep in our sins. All these things being hereby evident and clear, wo stop not fur farther explication, but proceed with our discourse. When wo em- ployed philosophical arguments against the delay of conversion; when we prove from the force of habit.s, that it is difficult, not to say impossible, for a man aged in crime», to be converted at the hour of death; it appeared to you, that we shook two doctrines which are in fact the two fundamental pillars of your faith. The first is the supernatural aids of the Ho- ly Spirit, promised in the new covenant; aids which bend the most rebellious wills, aids which can surmount in a moment all the diffi- culties which the force of habit may oppose to conversion. The second doctrine is that of mercy, accesB to which being opened by the blood of Christ, there is no period it seems but we may be ad- mitted whenever we come, tliough at the close of life. Here is, in substance, if I mistake not, the whole of what religion and the Scrip- tures seem to oppose to what has been advanc- ed in our first discourse. If we make it there- fore evident, that tlicse two doctrines do not oppose our principles; if we prove, that they contain nothing directly repugnant to the con- clusions we have drawn, shall we not thereby demonstrate, that the Scriptures contain no- thing but what should alarm those who trust to a tardy repentance. This we undertake to develope. The subject is not without difficul- ty; we have to steer between two rocks equal- ly dangerous; for if, on the one hand, we sliould supersede those doctrines, we abjure the faith of our fathers, and draw upon ourselves the charge of heterodoxy. On the other hand, if we should stretch tliose doctrines beyond a certain point, we furnish a plea for licentious- ness: we sap what we have built, and refute ourselves. Both these rocks wo must cau- tiously avoid. The first proofs of which people avail them- selves, to excuse their negligence and delay, and the first arguments of defence, which they draw from the Scriptures, in order to oppose us, are taken from the aids of the Spirit, pro- mised in the new covenant. " Why those alarming sermons?" say they. " Why those awful addresses, to the sinner who defers his conversion? Why confound, in this way, reli- gious with natural habits?" The latter are formed, I grant, by labour and study; by per- severing and uninterrupted assiduity. The former proceed from extraneous aids; they are the productions of grace, formed in the soul by the Holy Spirit. 1 will not, therefore, invali- date a doctrine so consolatory; I will profit by the prerogatives of Christianity; I will devote my life to the world; and when I perceive my- self ready to expire, 1 will assume the charac- ter of a Christian. I will surrender myself to the guidance of the Holy Spirit; and then ho shall, according to his promise, communi-t cafe his powerful influence to my heart; he siiall subdue my wicked propensities, eradicate my most inveterate habits, and efl'octuate, in a moment, what would have cost me so much labour and pain. Hero is an objection, which most sinners have not the effrontery to avow, but which a false theology cherishes in too many minds; and on which we found nearly tlie whole of our imaginary hopes of a death-bed conversion. To this objection we are bound to reply. Ser. LXXXI.] ON THE DELAY OF CONVERSION. 253 We proceed to make manifest its absurdity, 1. By the ministry God has established in tlie church. 2. By the efforts he requires us to make, previously to our being satisfied that we have received the Holy Spirit. 3. By the manner in which lie requires us to co-operate with the Spirit, when we have received him. 4. By the punishment he has denounced against those who resist his work. 5. By tlie conclu- sions which the Scripture itself deduces from our natural weakness, and from the neces.sity of grace. Here, my brethren, are five sources of reflection, which amount to demonstration, that every man who draws consequences from the promised aids of the Spirit, to live in luke- warmness, and to flatter himself with acquir- ing, without labour, without diflirulty, without application, habits of holiness, otfers violence to religion, and is unacquainted with the genius of the Holy Spirit's economy. The ministry established in the church, is the first proof that the aids of the Spirit give no countenance to lukewarmncss, and the de- lay of conversion. Had it been the design of the Holy Spirit to communicate knowledge, without the fatigue of religious instruction; had it been his design to sanctify, in a moment, without requiring our co-operation in this great work, why establish a ministry in the church? Why require us in infancy to be taught " line upon line, and precept upon pre- cept," as Isaiah expresses himself, Isa. xxxviii. 10. Why, as St. Paul says, require us after- ward to " leave the principles of the doctrines of Christ, and go on to perfection?" Heb. vi. 1. Why require, as the same apostle says, that we proceed from " milk to strong meat?" 1 Cor. iii. 2. Why require to propose motives, and address exhortations? Why are we not enlightened and sanctified without means, without ministers, without the Bible, without the ministry? Why act exactly in the science of salvation, as in the sciences of mea' For, when we teach a science to a man, we adapt it to his capacity, to his genius, and to his me- mory; so God requires us to do with regard to men. " Faith comes by hearing," says St. Paul, " and hearing by the word," Rom. x. 11. " Being ascended up on high, he gave some to be apostles, and some prophets, and some evan- gelists, and some pastors and teachers, for the perfecting of the saints, for the work of the ministry (mark the expression,) for the edify- ing of the body of Christ," Eph. iv. 11, 12. Perceive you not, therefore, the impropriety of your pretensions? Seeing it has been God's good pleasure to establish a ministry, do you not conceive that he would have you regard it with deference? Seeing he has opened the gates of these temples, do you not conceive that he requires you to enter his courts? Seeing he has enjoined us to preach, do you not conceive that he requires you to hear? Seeing he re- quires you to hear, do you not conceive that he likewise requires you to comprehend? See- ing he commands us to impress you with mo- tives, would he not have you feel their force? Do you think he has any other object in view? Show us a man, who lias lived eighty years without meditation and piety, that has instan- taneously become a good divine, a faithful Christian, perfected in holiness and piety. Do you not perceive, on the contrary, that the youth who learns Iiis catechism with care, be- comes a good catechumen; that the candidate who profoundly studies divinity, becomes an able divine; and that the Christian, who endea- vours to subdue his passions, obtains the vic- tory over himself? Hence, the Holy Spirit re- quires you to use exertions. Hence, when we exhorted you to become genuine Christians, with the same application that we use to be- come enlightened merchants, meritorious offi- cers, acute mathematicians, and good preach- ers, by assiduity and study, by labour and ap- plication, we advanced nothing inconsistent with the genius of our religion. Hence, he who draws from the aids of the Holy Spirit conclusions to remain inactive, and defer the work of salvation, oflers violence to the econo- my of grace, and supersedes the design of the ministry God has established in his church. This is our first reflection. We liave marked, secondly, the efforts that God requires us to use to obtain the grace of tlie Holy Sjjirit, when we do nf)t account our- selves as yet to have received them. For it is fully admitted that God required us, at least, to ask. The Scriptures are very express. " If any man lack wisdom let him ask of God," Jam. i. 5; "seek, and. ye shall find; knock, and it shall be opened," Matt. vii. 7. And, if we are required to ask, we are also obliged to use efforts, however weak and imperfect, to obtain the grace we ask. For, with what face can we ask God to assist us in the work of salvation, when we deliberately seek our own destruction? With what face can we ask God not to lead us into temptation, and we our- selves rush into temptation, and greedily riot in sin? With what face can we ask him to extinguish the fire of concupiscence, when we daily converse with objects which inflame it? We ought, therefore, to conduct ourselves, with regard to the work of salvation, as we do with regard to life and health. In vain should we try to preserve tliein, did not God extend his care: nature, and the elements, all con- spire for our destruction; we should vanish of our own accord; God alone can retain the breath which preserves our life. Asa, king of Israel, was blamed for having had recourse to physicians, without having first inquired of the Lord. But should we not be fools, if, from a notion that God alone can preserve our life, we should cast ourselves into a pit; abandon ourselves to the waves of the sea, take no food when healtiiy, and no medicine when sick? Thus, in the work of salvation, we should do the same; imploring the grace of God to aid our endeavours. We should follow tlie exam- ple of Moses, when attacked by Amalek; ho shared with Joshua the task of victory. Mo- ses ascended the hill, Joshua descended into the plain: Joshua fought, Moses prayed: Mo- ses raised his suppliant hands to heaven, Jo- shua raised a warrior's arm: Moses opposed his fervour to the wrath of Heaven, Joshua opposed his courage and arms to the enemy of Israel: and, by this judicious concurrence of praying and fighting, Israel triumphed and Amalek fled. Observe, thirdly, the manner in which the Holy Spirit requires correspondent co-operation 254 ON THE DELAY OF CONVERSION. [Ser. LXXXI from U9, as the objects of his care. In display- ing his cfHcacy in the heart, ho pretends not to deal witii us as with stocks and stones. It is an excellent sentence of Augustine; " God, who made us without ourselves, will not save us without ourselves." Hence the Scripture commonly joins these two things, the work of God in our conversion, and the correspondent duty of man. " To-day if ye will hear his voice," here is the work of God, " harden not your hearts." Ps. xcv. 8. Here is the duty of man. " You are sealed by tiie Holy Spirit." Eph. iv. 30. Here is the work of God. " Grieve not the Holy Spirit." Here is the duty of man. " Behold, I stand at the door and knock." Rev. v. 20. Here is the work of God. " If any man hear my voice and open." Here is the duty of man. "God worketh in us to will and to do." Phil. ii. 12. Here is the work of God. " Work out your own salvation with fear and trembling." Here is the duty of man. " I will take away the stony heart out of your flesh, and I will give you a heart of flesh." Ezek. xi. 19. Here is the work of God. " Make you a new heart, and a new spirit." Ezek. xviii. 31. Here, the duty of man. What avail all these expressions, if it were merely the design of Scripture in promising grace to favour our lukewarmness and flatter our delay of conversion? What are the duties it prescribes, except those very du- ties, the necessity of wliich we have proved, when speaking of habits? What is this cau- tion, not to harden the heart against the voice of God, if it is not to pay deference to all the commands? Wiiat is the precept, " Grieve not the Holy Spirit," but to yield to whatever lie deigns to teacli? What is it to open to God, who knocks at the door of our heart, if it is not to hear when he speaks, to come when lie calls, to yield when he entreats, to tremble when he threatens, and to hope when he pro- mises? Wliat is this "working out our salva- tion with fear and trembling," if it is not to have this continual vigilance, these salutary cautions, these weighty cares, the necessity of which we have proved? Our fourth reflection is derived from tlie threatenings, whicii God denounces against those who refuse to co-operate with the eco- nomy of grace. Tlie Spirit of God, you say, will be stronger than your obstinacy, lie will surmount your propensities; he will triumph over your opposition; grace will become vic- torious, and save you in defiance of nature. — Nay, rather tliis grace shall be withdrawn, if you ])ersist in your contempt of it. Nay, ra- ther tliis Spirit shall abandon you, after a course of ob-slinacy to your own way. He re- sumes tlic one talent from tlie unfaithful ser- vant, who neglects to improve it; and, accord- ing to the passage already cited, God sends on those, who obey not tiie truth, strong delusion to believe a lie, 2 Thess. ii. 10, 11. Hence, St. Paul draws this conclusion: " Stand fast, and hold llie traditions wiiich ye have been taught, whctlier by word, or l)y our epistle." And elsewhere it is said, " Tliat servant who know his lord's will, and did it not, shall be beaten with many stripes," Luko xii. 47. And tiie author of tho Epistle Ui tlx! Hebrews af- firms, " That it is impussiblu fur those who were once enlightened, if they fall away, to re- new them again unto repentance," Heb. ii. 4 1 am aware that tiie apostle had particularly in view tlie sin of tliose Jews who had embrac- ed the gusjiel, and alijured it through apostacy or prejudice. We ought, however, to deduce this conclusion, that when the Holy Spirit has enabled us to attain a certain degree of light and purity, if we relapse into our courses, we cease to be the objects of his regard. 6. But why this muss of various arguments, to show the absurdity of tlie sinner, who ex- cuses himself on the ground of weakness, and indolently awaits tiie operations of grac&' We have a siiorter way to confound the sinner, and resolve tlie sopliism adduced by his depravity. Let us open the sacred books; let us see what conclusions the Scriptures draw from the doc- trine of human weakness, and the promised aids of grace. If these consequences coincide with yours, we give up the cause; but, if they clash, you ought to acknowledge your error. Show us a single passage in the Bible where we find arguments similar to those we refute. Show us one passage, where the Scriptures, having asserted your weakness, and the aids of the Holy Spirit, conclude from these maxims, that you ouglit to continue in indolence. Is it not evident, on the contrary, that they draw con- clusions directly opposite? — Among many pas- sages, I will select two: tiie one is a caution of Jesus Christ, the other an argument of St. Paul. " Watch and pray, that ye enter not into temptation; for the spirit is willing, but tlie flesli is weak," Mark xiii. 33. This is the caution of Christ. " Work out your salvation with fear and trembling: for it is God that worketh in you to will and to do," Phil. ii. 12, 13. This is the argument of St. Paul. Had we advanced a sophism, when, after hav- ing established the frailty of human nature, and tho necessity of grace, wo founded, on those very doctrines, the motives which ought to induce you to diligence, and prompt you to vigilance; it was a sophism, for which the Scriptures are responsible. "The spirit is willing, but tlio flesh is weak:" here is the principle of Jesus Clirist. " God worketh in )'ou to will and to do:" here is the principle of St. Paul. " Work out your salvation:" liero is the consequence. Are you, therefore, actuated by a spirit of ortliodo.xy and truth, when you exclaim against our sermons' Are you then more orthodox than tlie Holy Ghost, or more correct than eternal truth? Or rather, whence is it tiiat you, being orthodox in the first inembcr of tiie proposition of our authors, become heretics in tho second? Why ortho- dox in the principle, and heretics in tho con- sequence? Collect now, my brethren, the whole of these five arguments; open your eyes to the light, connnunicated from all points, in order to cor- rect your prejudice; and see how superficial is the man wlio draws from human weakness, and the aids of tlic Spirit, motives to defer con- version. The Holy Spirit works witliin us, it is true; but he works in concurrence with the word and the ministry, in sending you pastors, in accompanying their word with wisdom, their exhortation with imction, tlieir weakness with power: and you — you who have never Ser. LXXXI.] ON THE DELAY OF CONVERSION. 255 read this word, wlio liave alwcntcd yourselves from tliis niiiiiHtry, wlio liave not wished to hear these discourses, who have paid no defer- ence to these cautions, nor submission to tliis power, would you have the Holy Spirit to con- vert you by means unknown, and beyond the limits of his o])erations? The Holy Si)irit works within us, it is true: hut he rc(]uires that wc should seek and ask those aids, niakinjr efforts, imperlect efforts, to sanctify ourselves: and would you wish him to convert you, while you neglect to seek, while you disdain to ask; to say the least, while you jrive uji yourselves to inaction and supineness? Tlio lloly Spirit works within us, it is true; but ho requires that we act in concert with his grace, that we second his operations, and yield to his entrea- ties: and would you wish liim to convert you, while you harden yourselves against his voice, while you never cease from grieving him? The Holy Spirit works within us, it is true; but ho declares that, if we obstinately resist, he will leave us to ourselves; he will refuse the aids he has offered in vain; he will abandon us to our natural stuj)idity and corruption; and you, already come to the crisis of vengeance, to tlic epoch for accomplisiiing his wrath, to the termination of a criminal career, can you presume that this Spirit will «adopt for you a new economy, and work a miracle in your favour? The Holy Spirit works within us, it is true; but thence it is concluded in our Scrip- tures, that we .ought to work, that we ought to labour, that we ought to apply to the con- cerns of salvation our strength of body, our facility of conception, our retention of me- mory, our presence of mind, our vivacity of genius: and you who devote this mind, tiiis genius, tliis memory, this conception, this health, wholly to the world, do you derive from these very sermons sanction for an indo- lence and a delay, which the very idea of those talents ought to correct? If this be not wrest- ing the Scriptures, if this be not oflering vio- lence to religion, and subverting the design of the Spirit in the discovery of our natural weak- ness, and the promised aids of grace, we must be proof against the most palpable demonstra- tion. Enough, I think, has been said, to establish our first proposition, that the aids of God's Spirit confirm the necessity of discharging the offices of piety, in order to acquire the habit; and tiiat the difficulties adduced, are all con- verted into proofs, in favour of wiiat they seemed to destroy. These are also, according to us, the pure divinity, and the truths which ought to resound in our protestant auditories. Happy, indeed, were the doctors, if, instead of multiplying questions and disputations, they had endeavoured to press these important truths. O, my soul, lose not thyself in abstract and knotty speculations; fathom not the mys- terious means which God adopts to penetrate the heart. " The wind bloweth where it list- eth, and thou hearest the sound thereof, but canst not tell whence it cometh, or whither it goeth: so is every one that is born of tlie Spirit." John iii. 8. " Pride goeth before destruction, and a haughty spirit before a fall." Prov. xvi. 18. " Belbro destruction the heart of man is haughty, and before honour is liuinility," xviii. 12. Content thyself with adoring the good- ness of God, who promises thee assistance, and deigns to surmount by grace the corruptions of nature. But, while thou groanest under a sense of thy corruption, endeavour to surmount and vanquish thyself; draw from God's pro- rniscg, motives for thy own sanctification and in.struction; and even when thou sayest, I am nothing, I can do nothing, act as though the whole depended on thyself, and as though thou couidest " do all things." II. The notion of the aids of the Holy Spirit, was the first source of illusion we havo had to attack. The notion of the mercy of God is a second, on which we shall also pro- ceed to reflect. " God is merciful," say they, " the covenant he has established with man, is a covenant of grace: we are not come to the darkness, to the devouring fire, and the tern- pest. A general amnesty is granted to the wicked. Hence, though our conversion be de- fective, God will receive our dying breath, and yield to our tears. What, then, should deter us from giving free scope to our passions, and deferring the rigorous duties of conversion, till we are nothing worth for the world?" Strange argument! Detestable sophism, my brethren! Here is the highest stage of corrup- tion, the supreme degree of ingratitude. What do I say? For though a man be ungrateful, he discovert' sensibility and acknowledgement, for the moment at least, on the reception of a favour. Forgetfulness and ingratitude are oc- casioned by other objects, which time and the world have presented to the mind, and which have obliterated the recollection of past favours. Eut behold, in the argument of the sinner, a manœuvre of a novel kind; he acquires the un- happy art of embracing, in the bosom of his in- gratitude, the present and the future; the fa- vours already received, and tiiose which are yet to come. " I will be ungrateful beforehand. I will, from this instant, misuse the favours I have not as yet received. In each of my acts of vice, I will recollect and anticipate the fa- vours which God shall one day give; and I will derive, from this consideration, a fresh motive to confirm myself in revolt, and to sin with assurance." Is not this extreme of cor- ruption and ingratitude the most detestable? But it is not suflicient to attack this system by arguments of equity and decency; this would be to make of man a portrait too flattering, by inducing a belief that he is sensible of motives so noble. This would effect the wicked little more than saying, you are very ungrateful if you persist in vice. The author of our religion knew the human heart too well, to leave it unopposed by the strongest banks. Let us extend our hypothesis, and demonstrate, that those who reason thus build upon false princi- ples, on assurance of mercy, to which they have no possible claim. Hence, to find a compas- sionate God, they must " seek him while he may be found, and call upon him while he is near." Here a scholastic method, and a series of questions discussed in the schools, would per- haps be acceptable, did we address an auditory of learned doctors, ready to oppose us with their arguments and proofs. But we will not disturb tlie repose of these disputes and con- 250 ON THE DELAY OF CONVERSION. [See. LXXXI. troversies; wo will reduce all we have to ad- vance to terms tlie most plain, and questions the most simple, and ask two things — Is the mercy of God offered in the gospel, offered ab- Bolutcly and without conditions? And if it have prescribed conditions, are tliey of a na- ture, to which you can instantaneously con- form on a death-bed, after liaving run a crimi- nal career? Hero is a second question. On the idea you may form of these ques- tions, will depend tlie opinion you ought to liave of a man, who claims admission to the throne of mercy, after a dissipated life. For if the gospel is a definitive covenant, requiring nothing of man; or if its requisitions are so easy, that a wisii, a tear, a superficial repent- ance, a slight recourse to piety, is suflicient, your argument is demonstrative, and our mo- rality is too severe. Profit by a religion so ac- commodating; cease to anticipate an awful fu- turity; and reduce the whole gospel to mere request for grace. But, if the gospel is a con- ditional covenant; and if the conditions on which grace is offered, are of a nature that re- quire time, labour and application; and if the conditions become impracticable, wiien deferred too long, then your argument is false, and your conduct altogetiier absurd. Now, my brethren, I appeal to the con- science of the most profligate sinners, and to casuists minutely scrupulous. Can one ration- ally hesitate to decide on the two questions? And will it be difficult to prove, on tiie one hand, that the gospel, in offering mercy, im- poses certain duties; and, on the other, that we reduce ourselves to an evident incapacity of compliance, when conformity is deferred? I. Say tiiat the gospel is a definitive cove- nant, and you save us the trouble of attacking and refuting an assertion wliicii contradicts it- Belf— for the very term covenant, implies a mu- tual contract between two parties; otherwise it would overturn a thousand express testimonies of Scripture, whicli we avoid recitins, because we presume they are well known to our au- dience. n. The whole question then is reduced to this, to know what are the stipulated condi- tions. We are all agreed as to the terms. This condition is a disposition of the soul, which the Scriptures sometimes call faith and sometimes repentance. Not to dwell on terms, we ask what is tiiis faith, and wiiat is this re- pentance, which opens access to the throne of grace? In what do tliese virtues consist' Is the whole im[)lied in a simple desire to be saved? In a mere desire to participate in tlie benefits of the passion of Jesus Christ? Or, if /ai//i and repentance include, in their nature, the renun- ciation of the world, the forsaking of sin, a total change of life, an inward disposition, in- ducing us to accept all the benefits procured by the cross of Christ, does it not prompt us sin- cerely, and Willi an honest mind, to detest the crimes wliicli nailed him to it? In a word, is it sufficient for tlic penitent to say on a death-bed, " I desire to bo savful; 1 acknowledge that my Redeemer has died fir my sins;" or must he subjoin to these confessions, sentiments propor- tioned to tiio sanctity of the salvation which he demands; and crae clothed with tiuuian Hcsii, should e.\]>osu himseU' to an infuriated populace, and expire on a cross; tiiis is the greatest difficulty 1 find in tin; gospel. IJut be thou silent, imperious reason; liere is a satisfac- tory Solution. Join the dilliculty wiiich thou iîndest in the admiiiistralion of justice, witli tliat which proceeds from tliy notion of mercy; tlie one will correct the other. Tiie sii|)era- bundance of mercy will rectify the severity of justice; for the severity of justice proceeds from the superabundance of mercy. If tiie people who talk in this manner; if the people who find the divine justice too se- vere; if they were a pcoj)le diligently laliour- iiijr to promote their own -salvation; if tliey de- voted an hour daily to the work, the ditliculty would be plausible, and they would iiave aj)- parent cause of complaint. But who are these complainants? They are people wlio throw the reins to their ])assions; who glory in lliuir inlli- mous intrigues; who are implacatde in haling their neighbour, and resolved to hate him dur- ing life: they are votaries of pleasure, who spend half the night in gaining, in drunken- ness, in theatres, and take from the day the [lart of the night they have devoted to dissij>a- tion: they arc proud, ambitious men, wlio, un- der a pretext of having sumptuous eijuipagc, and dignified titles, fancy themselves autho- rized to violate the obligations of Christianity with imjiunity. These are the jieople, who, when told if they persist in this way of life, that they cannot be saved, reply, that they can- not conceive how the justice of God should treat thenj with such severity. And I, for my own part, cannot conceive how (rod should treat you so indulgently; I cannot conceive how he should jiermit the sun to enlighten thee. I cannot conceive how he, who holds the thunder in his hand, can apparently be an idle spectator of thy sacrileges. 1 cannot con- ceive how the earth does not open beneath thy feet, and, by its terrific jaws, anticipate tlie punishment j)repared in hell for theo by the divine vengeance. You say again, that tliis mercy, of which wo draw so magnificent a portrait, is conse- quently very circumscribed. IJiit say rather, how is it that you dare to start dilliciiltics of this nature? (iod, Ike blisscd (Ind, the Sii|)reino Ueiiig, has formed you of nothing; has given you his Son, h;is otl'erod you his Spirit, has promised to bear witli you such ;is you are, with all your infirmities, with all your corruj»- tions, with all your weakness; h;is ojieiied to you the gates of heaven; and being desirous to give you biinself, he rccpiircs no return, but the consecration to him of your few remaining days on earth; he pxcludes none from paradise, but hardened and iiii|>eiiilent men. How then, can you s.ay that the merc^ of God is circuin- scribisd! What! is it iin|i..sible for God to be merciful unless he reward your crimes? Is no- thing mercy willi you, but that which permits a universal inundation of vice? Vou slill say, if the condilion.s of the new covenant are such as you have laid down, it is then an arduous ta.sk to become a Christian, and conscipienlly very dillicult to obtain salva- tion. Dut do you think, my brethren, that wo are discouraged at tlie dilliculty? Know you not, that "strait is the gate, and narrow is the way, that leadelli unto life?" Matt. vii. 14. Know you not, that we must " pluck out the eye, and cut otf the hand?" vcr. 29. Sur- mount the most dear and delicate |irui>ensities; dissolve the ties of llesli and blood, of nature and sclf-atta<'liiiieiit. Know you not, that we must "crucify the old man, and deny ourselves?" xvi. îi-1. Know you not, that " we must add to our faith virtue, to virtue knowledge, to knowledge patience, to patience brotherly kind- ness, to brotherly kindness charity, and to cha- rity godliness," '^ I'et. i. 5. Uut you add, tiiat few persons will then be saved; anollier objection we little fear, though, perhaps, it would iiave been unanswerable, had not .Icsus Christ himself taught us to reply. — liut is this a new gosi)eP is it a new doctrine to say, that few shall be saved? Has not Jesus C'hrist himself declared it^ 1 will address my- self, on tills subject, to those who understand the elucidation of types. 1 will adduce one type, a very distinguished type, a type not equivocal but terrific; it is the unhappy multi- tude of Israel, who muniiured against God, aller being saved liom the land of Lgypt- — 'I'he object of their journey was Canaan. Deut. i. 35, 'ôii. God [lerlbrmed innumerable mira- cles to give them the land; the sea opened and gave them p;ussage; bread descended from hea- ven to nourish them; water i.ssued from the deaf rock to ipjench their thirst. Tliere was but one in which they failed; they never en- tered into Canaan: there were but two adults, among all these myriads, who found admission. What is the import of this type? The very thing to vvjiich you object. The Israelites re- present these hcMrers; the miracles represent the olfort^i of I'rovidence for your salvation; Canaan is the figure (if jniradise, for which you hope, and Caleb and .loshua alone were admit- tcil into the land, which so many miracles had apparently promised to the whole nation. What do these shadows adumbrate to the Christian world? My brethren, 1 do not dare to make the application. 1 leave with you this object for conleinplalion; this terrific subject for seri- ous rcllection. 15ut you still ask, " why do you prcacli to us such awful doctrine? It subverts religion; it drives people to despair." Great risk, indeed, and imminent danger of driving to despair, the men whom 1 attack! Sujqiress the poison, re- move the dagger, exclude the idea of death from the mind, until the recollection of their sins shall drive them to the last extremity. — Ihil why? The characters whom we have de- scribed, those nominal moii of apathy, those in- dolent souls, those hearts sold to the world and its ple:uiurcs, have they weak and delicate con- sciences, which we ought to s))are, and for whom wo ought to fear, lest the disi)lays of di- vine justice should produce efiecla too severe Skr. LXXXI.] ON THE DELAY OF CONVERSION. 259 and strong? Ah! unliappy people, even to mention diliicultios of this nature. If you wero already strct<;hcd on a dyiiiir bed; already eoino to llu; olusc of a criminal courso; if liell had opened huucath to .swallow you U|); if you Jiad Mo re.source but the last etibrls of an ex- piring soul, then you would be woithy of pity. But you are yet alive; grace is otlercd; all the avenues of ropcntance are open to you; " the Lord may yet ho found:" there is not one among you, hut may call upon him with suc- cess. Ytsl you devote the whole of life to the world; you conlirm the habits of corruption; and when we warn you, when we unma.sii your turpitude, when we discover tlie abyss into which you precipitate j'ourselvcs by choice, you complain that it is driving you to despair! Would to («od that our voice nnglit be exalted like thunder, and tiie brightness of our dis- course he Jis that wliicli struck St. Paul on the road to Damascus; prostrating you, like that apostle, at tlic feet of the Jjord! ^Vuuld to God that the horrors of des|)air, and tlie I'right- ful images of hell, might till you with .salutary tear, inducing you to avoid it! \Vould to (Jod that your body might, from this moment, " be delivered to Satan, that the s|)irit might bo saved in tiie day of the Lord," I Cor. v. 3. It rests with you, my brethren, to ai)ply these truths; and to prolit by the means which I'ro- vidence this day affords for your conversion. W there yet remains any resources, any hopes for the man who delays conversion, it is not with ministers of the gospel to point them out. We are not the j>lenipolenliaries of our reli- gion; we are the ambassadors of Christ; we Jiave e.\i)licit instructions, and our commission prescribed. God requires that we publisii his itovenant, that we j)roinise you every aid of grace, that we open the treasures of mercy, that we lead you to heavenly places by tlie track, sprinkled with tiie blood of the Saviour of the world. J3ut each of these privileges has conditions annexed, the nature of which you have heard. C^jmply with them, repent, give your conversion solid, habitual, and elfec- tive marks; liicn the treasures of grace are yours. JJut if you should persist in sin (to tell you truths to-d,ay, which, perhaps, would be useless to-morrow,) if you should jiersist dur- ing life, and till the a[)|)roaches of death, and the horrors of hell shall extort from you prot(!s- tations of rclbrin, and excite in you the sem- blance of conversion, wc cannot, without doing violence to our instructions, and exceeding our commistiion, speak jjcace to your souls, and make you oilers of salvation; These considerations must exculpate minis- ters of the gospel, who know how to maintain the majesty of their mission, and correspond with their character. And if they exculpate us not in your estimation, they will justify us, at least, in the great day, when the most secret things shall be adduced in evidence. You are not properly actpiainted with our ministry. — You call us to the dying, who we know to have been wicked, or far from conforming to the conditions oC the new covenant, 'i'his wicked man, on the approach of death, composes him- self ; ho talks solely of repentance, of mercy, and of tears. On seeing this exterior of con- version, you would have us presume, that such a man is more than converted; and, in that rash conclusion, you would have us offer him tiio highest jilace in the mansions of the blessed. But wo, wo to those ministers, who, by a cruel lenity, ]irecipitalo souls into hell, under the delusion of opening to them the gates of jiaradise. Wo to that minister, who shall be so prodigal of the favours of God. Instead of sjieaking peace to such a man, " 1 would cry aloud; I would lift up my voice like a trumiiet; I would shout," Isa. Iviii. L "I would thunder; 1 would shoot against him the arrows of the Almighty; 1 would make him "suck the venom," Job vi. 4. Happy, if I might irrailiate jjassions so inveterate; if I might save by fear; if 1 might pluck from the burning, a soul so hardened m sin. lint if, as it commonly occurs, this dying man shall devote to his conversion but an ex- iiausled body, and the last sighs of expiring life; wo, wo again, to that minister of the gos- ])el, who, by a relaxed policy, shall, so to speak, come to canonize this man, as though he had died " the death of the righteous!" Let no one ask. What would you do? Would you trouble the ashes of the dead? Would you drive a family to despair? Would }i:>u aflix a brand of infamy on a house? — What would I do? I would maintain the interests of my Master; 1 would act becoming a minister of Jesus Christ; 1 would jireveiit your taking an anti-Christian death for a hajipy death; I would jirotit by the loss I have now described; and liold up tiiis prey of the devil as a terror to the spectators, to the family, and to the whole church. Would you know, my dear brethren, which is the way to ])reveiit such great calamities? Would you know what is the accepted time to implore forgiveness, and to (ferive the Holy Spirit into your heart? It is this moment, it is now. " Seek ye the Lord while he may be found." Yes, he may bo found to-day: he may be found in this assembly; he may be found under tiie word we are now speaking; he may be found under the exhortations we give in his name; he may be found in the re- morse, the anguish, the emotions, excited in your hearts, and which say, on his behalf, " seek ye my face." He may be found in your clo.sets, where he otVers to converse with you in tiie most tender and flimiliar manner: he may be found among the poor, among the sick, among those dying carcases, among those liv- ing images of death, and the toinb, w^hich soli- cit your compjission; and which open to you the way of charity that leads to God, who is charity itself. He may be found to-day, but perhaps to-morrow he will be found no more. Perhajis, to-morrow you may seek in vain; per- haps, to-morrow your measure may be fall; jierhaps, to-morrow grace may be for ever withdrawn; perhaps, to-morrow the sentence which must decide your eternal destiny shall be pronounced! /^ Ah! who can estimate the value of a mo- luent so precious! Ah! who can compare his situation with the unhappy victims, that divine vengeance has immolated in hell, and for whom ''time is no longer!" Ah! who, on withdraw- ing from this temple, instead of so much vain conversation and criminal dissipation, would 260 ON THE DELAY OF CONVERSION. [Ser. LXXXI. not prostrate himself at the footstool of the Di- vine Majfuty; weopinij for the past, reforming the present, and takinir salutary precautions for the future. Aii! who would not force him by broken sighs, by fervent prayers, by torrents of tears, never to depart! Who would not say, and more with his heart than with his mouth, "Stay witii me, Lord; I will not let thee go, until thou hast blessed nie,'' Gen. xxxii. 20; until thou hast vanquished my corruption, and given me the earnest of my salvation. The time of my visitation is almost expired; I see it, I know it, I feel it; my conversion requires a miracle; I ask this miracle of thee, and am re- solved to obtain it of thy compassion. My brethren, my dear brethren, we have no cjcprevsions sufficiently tender, no emotions suf- ficiently pathetic, no prayers sufficiently fer- vent, tjo draw you to these duties. Let your zeal supply our weakness. If we have bran- dished before your eyes the sword of divine vengeance, it is not to destroy you, but to save you; it is not to drive you to despair, but to in- duce you "to sorrow after a godly sort, and with a repentance not to be repented of," 2 Cor. ii. 10. It is incumbent on each of you who hear,and regard what I say, to participate in these advantages. May you, from the pre- sent moment, form a resolution to profit by an opportunity so precious. May the hour of your death, corresponding with the sincerity of your resolutions, and with the holiness of your lives, open to you the gates of heaven, and enable you to find in ijlory that God, whom you shall have found merciful in this church. God grant you grace so to do. To Father, Son, and Holy Spirit, be honour and glory for ever. Amen. SERMON LXXXI. ON THE DELAY OF CONVERSION. PART III. Isaiah Iv. 6. Seek ye the Lord u-hile he may be found, call ye upon him irhile he is near. Experience, my brethren, is a great teacher; it is a professor which adduces clear, solid, and indisputable proofs. Reason is an admirable endowment, given us as a guide in our re- searches after truth. Revelation has been happi- ly added to reason, to correct and guide it; but both have tlieir difficulties. Reason is circum- scribed, itn views are confined, its deviations frequent; and the false inferences we perceive it deduces, rendiT doulitful its most clear and evident conclusions. Revelation, however ve- nerable its tribunal, however infallible its de- cisions, " is foolishness," says the apostle, "to the natural man;" it is exposed to the glosses of erroneous critics, to the ditHcultics of here- tics, açd the contradictions of infidels. Rut expcri^ice is without exception; it speaks to the heart, to the senses, and the understand- ings; it neither reas concurred to prove, that in order to labour successfully at the work of salvation, we must begin in early life, in the time of health, and in the days of youth. We will prove it by experience; we will demonstrate it by sad tests and instances of the truths we have delivered; we will pro- duce to you awful declarations of the wrath of heaven, which cry to you with a strong and tender voice, " Seek ye the Lord while he may be found, call ye upon him while he is near." These witnesses, these tests, these examples shall be adduced from persons, who once stood in your present situation; acquainted with the will of God, warned by his servant, and living, as St. Peter expresses himself, " at a period, in which the long-suffering of God awaited them," 1 Pet. iii. 20. And you, even you, Christians, must one day become what they now are, awful examples of the wrath of God; eternal monuments of his indignation and vengeance; unless your eyes, opened by so much light, un- less your hearts, impressed by so many motives, unless your consciences, alarmed by the dread- ful judgments of God, shall take measures to prevent the sentence, already prepared in his eternal counsels, and whose execution is at the door. But does it not seem to you, my brethren, tliat wo undertake a task too arduous, when we engage to prove, from experience, that the long-suffering of God is restricted; and that, by delaying conversion, we risk the total frustra- tion of the work? You have already alleged, I am aware, an almost infinite number of sinners, who apparently subvert our principles; so many servants, called at the eleventh hour, so many hearts, which grace has changed in a moment; so many penitents, who, in the first essays of repentance, have found the arms of mercy open; and whose happy success consoles, to the pre- sent hour, the imitators of their crimes. We shall hear your reasons, before we pro- pose our own. We would leave nothing be- hind, which might occasion a mistake, in which it is so dangerous to be deceived. Our dis- course shall turn on these two points: first, wo shall e.\amine the cases of those sinners which seem to favour the conduct of those who delay conversion; then we shall allege, in the second place, those which confirm our principle, and make a direct attack on security and delay. I. Wc shall examine the case of those sin- ners, which seem to militate against what we have advanced in the preceding discourses. All that we then advanced, may bo comprised under two heads. We said, first, that in order to ac(piirc the habit of piety, there was but one way, tlie daily exercise of all its duties. We affirmed, secondly, that the period of mercy, is restricted; and that wc risk a total exclusion when we offer to (Jod only the last groans of expiring life. We founded our first proposition on the force of habits, and on the natiuo of the Holy Spirit's economy, who, for the most part, abandons to their own turpitude, those that re- sist his grace. This was the subject of our first SïR. LXXXI.] ON THE DELAY OF CONVERSION. 261 sermon, and the second part of the otlier. Wc established oiir second proposition on the new covenant, which offers us mercy, solely on con- dition of repentance, fiiitii, and liic love of God; conseJ]ncnlly, which renders dubious the stale of those, who have not bestowed upon those virtues, the time adequate to their acquisition. These are the two ])rincipal heads, which com- prise all that we have advanced upon tiiis sub- ject. You may also oppose to us two classes of examples. In tiie first class you may arrange tiiose instantaneous conversions and changes, which grace has effectuated in a moment by a single stroke; and which apparently destroy what we have advanced on tiie force of iiabits, and the nature of the economy of the Holy Spirit. In the second class, you will put those other sinners, who, after the perpetration of enormous crimes, have obtained remission by a sign, by a prayer, by a few tears; and who af- ford presumptive hopes, that to whatever ex- cess we may have carried our crimes, we shall never exceed the terms of mercy, or obstruct reception at the throne of grace. Let us con- sider the difficulties which may be drawn from both these sources. You adduce first those sudden conversions, those instantaneous changes on the spot, with- out difficulty, labour, and repeated endeavours. Of this class, we have various examples in Scripture. We have Simon, we have Andrew, we liave James the son of Zebedee, and most of the apostles, whom Jesus Christ found cast- ing their nets into the sea, and engaged in the humble trade of fishing, or collecting the tri- bute; and who were instantaneously, and on the spot, endued with divine thoughts, new desires, and heavenly propensities; who, from the mean- est artisans became the heralds of the gospel; formed the noble design of conquering the uni- verse, and subjugating the whole world to the empire of their Master. With this class, may also be associated the example of Zaccheus; who seems to have been renovated in a moment, and to have reformed on the spot, and without the previous duties of piety, a passion the most obstinate, wliich grows with age, and from which scarcely any one is converted. He assumed a language un- heard of in the mouth of a merchant, and es- pecially a covetous merchant: " Tlie half of my goods I give to feed tiie poor; and if I have taken any tiling from any man by false accusa- tion, I restore him fourfold," Luke xix. 8. To the same class you may add those thousands of persons who changed their faith and reform- ed their lives, on the first preaching of the apostles. After so many trophies erected to the power of grace, what becomes of your arguments, you say, on the force of habits, on the genius of the Holy Spirit's economy? Who will dare to main- tain, after the adduction of these that habits of piety may not be acquired witliout labour, fa- tigue, and the duties of devotion? Why may I not promise myself, after devoting the most of my life to pleasure, to have the same power over my heart as Zaccheus, the apostles, and power, which converted them in a moment' Why should 1 make myself a perpetual martyr to forward a work, which one of those happy moments shall perfectly consummate? These are the first difticulties, and the first examples, you adduce. You oppose, in the second plea, the case of those sinners, who, after committing the great- est crimes, have found, on the first efforts of repentance, the arms of mercy open for their reception. Of this class, there are many in the Scriptures; the principal are that of David; that of St. Peter; that of St. Paul; and that of the converted thief, which has a nearer con- nexion with our subject than any of the others. These arc names, which the wicked have con- tinually in their mouths; and it must be ac- knowledged, that they are distinguished monu- ments of divine mercy. It would seem that you may deduce from them this consequence, that to whatever degree you may have carried vice, there is some ground to expect pardon and salvation. After so many examples of divine mercy, sinners will readily say, how is it that you alarm us with so many fears? Why draw so many terrific portraits of the justice of God? And why exclude the sinner, however corrupt, from the throne of grace? I who may have a secret intrigue, scarcely suspected, very far from being known to the world, shall I have more difficulty in obtaining mercy than David, who committed adultery in the face of all Is- rael? I who may have absented myself for a time from the true church, shall I have more difficulty in obtaining mercy than St. Paul, who persecuted the saints; or St. Peter, who openly denied his Master, and in his Master's presence? I who have not directly robbed, but have been contented with acquiring goods by means clandestine indeed, but at the same time sanctioned by example, by custom, by the usages of fraud, and art; by palliated lies, and oaths contrary to truth, but essential in the employment to which I am providentially call- ed; shall I be more culpable than the convert- ed thief who robbed on the highway? What should hinder me then from following those personages in vice during life, reserving time to throw myself into the arms of mercy, and imitate their repentance, in my last hours? Have you, sinners, said enough? Are these all your hiiUlen things of dishonesty, and all the frivolous pretences in which you are cradled by the demon of security? See then to what tends your religion, and the use you make of our Scriptures. The Holy Spirit has there delineated the lives of those illustrious men who once were vessels of honour in the Lord's house; he has " surrounded you with a cloud of witnesses," for animation in your course, by the example of men like yourselves, who have finished it with joy. He has also left you a history of their defects, to excite you to vigilance, saying to every sinner, take care, if those distinguislied saints stumbled, what will thy fall be when thou shalt relax? If those main pillars have been shaken, what has not the bruised reed to fear? If the cedars of Le- first converts to Christianity? Why may I not banon have been ready to tumble, what shall expect the irradiations which enlightened, the be the destiny of the hyssop of the wall? To aids which attracted, and the omnipotent I those reiloctions you are deaf; and to deceive 2G2 ON THE DELAY OF CONVERSION. [Ser. LXXXI. the Eternal Wisdom, and " to bo wiser in your foolish generation," than tiio feather of lights himself, you draw from these exam|)lcs, design- ed to maite you wise, motives to confirm you in your crimes. We shall endeavour to ex- amine the whole of your sopliisms. We shall first make this general obser\'ation; that when we said in tiie preceding discourse, we must, in order to acquire the habit of piety, perform its duties, and to obtain admission at the throne of grace, we must demonstrate our faith by a course of virtuous actions, we told you only what coimnonly occurs in tiic course of religion. Wo did not include in our re- marks, the overjjowering and extraordinary operations of grace. For God, who was pleas- ed sometimes to supersede tiie laws of nature, supersedes ahso, on some occasions, tiie laws of religion, by graciously enlarging the limits of the new covenant. The laws followed in na- ture are wisely cstablisJicd. He has assigned a pavilion to the sun, and balanced tiie earth on its poles. He has proscribed boundaries to the sea, and obliged this imjietuous element to re- spect the commands of its Creator. " Hither- to shall thou come, but no farther; and here shall thy proud waves be stayed," Job xxxviii. 1 1. We have likewise seen him supersede tlie laws of nature, and discover as much wisdom in their suspension as he manifested in tlieir establishment. We have sometimes seen the earth quake; the sun stop and suspend his course; the waters of the sea advancing before, or retiring behind, " divide tliemselves as a wall on the rigiit hand, and on tiie left," Exod. xiv. 22, as well to favour iiis chosen jieople, as to confound the rebellious nation. Just so the laws of religion, and the conditions of his covenant, are also perfectly wise, and equally founded on goodness and equity; meanwhile Ciod is plea.sed sonictiines to suspend tlicin, ajid to enlarge tlie limits of grace. This tho\ight aptly applies to many of the cases you adduce, and particularly to instanta- neous conversions. They arc not the usual way in which the Holy Spirit proceeds; tliey do not occur in the ordinary course of religion. They are exceptions to the general laws; they are miracles. Instead, therefore, of judging of the general laws of religion, by these ])arti- cular instances, you should reclily your notion of them by tho.sc general laws. Ah! temjiori/- ing directors, apostate casuists, pests of the public, you compose your penitents with de- ceitful hope. This is our first solution. When a physician, after exhausting all the powers of art to restore the sick, finds his pre- scriptions bailled, his endeavour without ellect, and bis skill destitute of resource; when lie finds the brain delirious, the circulation of the blood irregular, the chest o])presscd, and na- ture ready to fall under the pressure of disease, he says, it is a lost case. He presumes not to say, that God cannot heal him; nor that he has never seen a recovery in similar circumstances; he speaks according to the course of nature; ho judges according to the rules of art; he de- cides as a pliysician, and not as a worker of miracles, .lust so, wIkmi we see a man in the church, who h;us persisted thirty, forty, or fifty years in a course of crimes; when wo see this man struck with death, that his first concern is for the health of his body, that he calls both nature and art to his assistance; but his hopes being lost, with ri-çrard to the world, he turns his attention towards religion; he makes a mighty ado about conversion; he weeps, he groans, he prays; that he discovers to us the semblance of rcjientance and conversion: we aver that this man's state is doubtful, and ex- ceedingly doubtful. 15ut wc speak according to the ordinary course of religion: knowing that God is almighty, we exclude not the oc- currence of miracles. Jlcnce all the cases you adduce are prodigies of conversion, in which (Jod has exceeded ordinary laws, and from which no conclusions can be drawn; and all that you add on the power of God, on the ir- resistible, renovating, and victorious efficacy of grace, however solid on other occasions, when applied to this subject, are empty de- clamations, and foreign to the point. iJutare all those examples of conversion and repentance miracles? No, my brethren, nor is this the whole of our reply: and had we prov- ed that they arc all such in eft'ect, we should indeed have done little, and you might have returned home, flattered, perhaps, that God would work the same prodigies for you in a dying hour. Let us enter into a more minute discussion; let us remark, — and this is our grand solution, — let us remark, that among all the sinners wliose conversion you adduce, there is not one, no not one, in the condition of the Christian, who neglecting his salvation, pre- sumes to otler to God only the dregs of life, and the hist groans of expiring nature. No; of all those sinners, there is not one who was in the situation of such a man; consequentlv, there is not one, no not one, who can afford the shadow of a rational excuse to flatter the men we now attack. Let us illustrate this re- flection; it is of the last im))ortance. You may remark five essential distinctions. They dirtered — eitlier with regard to their light — or with regard to their motives — or with regard to the duration of their crime — or with regard to their virtues — or with regard to the certain- ty of their rejienlaiice and conversion: five considerations, my brcliiren, which you cannot too dcojily inculcate on j'our minds. Some of tliem apjily to the whole, others to a part. Let eacii»of you apply to himself that portion of our remarks on these conversions which corresponds with his case. Speaking first of the illumination of those two classes of sinners, we allirin that there is an essential dillercnce between the men whose example is adduced, and the Christians who delay conversion. Of all those sinners, there was not one, who possessed the light which wo have at the ])resent day. Zaccheus, the apostle, the prophets, Uavid, and all the per- sons at tiie ])eriod in ([uestion, were in this re- spect inferior to the most ignorant Christian. Jesus Christ has decided, that " the least in tiie kingdom of heaven is greater than they," Luke vii. 2S. St. I'eter had not seen the re- surrection of his Master, when he had the weakness to deny him. The converted thief, had, perhaps, never hoard his name, while abandoned to his crimes; and St. Paul, while Ser. LXXXI.] ON THE DELAY OF CONVERSION. 263 persecutinir tho cliurcli, followed tlio old i)ro- j which constitutes a second difTcrcnce; that is, judices of Judaism, " ho did it ignorantly," as the motives which press you to conversion ho himself allirrns, 1 Tim. i. 13 wcro scarcely known to the others. You are This is tho first consideration which O-ggra- pres.scd more than they by motives of grati- vatcs your condemnation, and renders your tude. What were all the favours which they salvation doubtful, if you defer the work, received of God, in comparison of those which " The gmcc of God has appeared to all men." are heaped on you; you arc born in " an ac- You are iiorn in so enli;rhtened an aye, that cojited time, in a day of salvation," 1 Cor. vi. tho human mind seems to have attained tho -; in those happy days " which so many right- highest period of j»erfection to which its weak- ness will iierniit it to arrive. Philosophy has boon disencumbered of all ambiguous terms, of all useless punctilios, and of all tho pom- pous nothings, which confused, rather than formed tiie minds of youth; and our systems of moral philosopliy seem to have attained per- fection. 'J'iieok»:,ry is purged, at least on most subjects, and W(ju1(1 to (Jod that it was alto- gether purged of the abstruse researches, and triHiiigdis(|uisitions, whicii amused our fathers. It' some weak minds still follow tho former no- tions, they only render themselves ridiculous, weary the jiooplc, disgust the learned, and are left to detiiil their maxims to the dusty walls of their half deserted schools. How clearly have they proved, for instance, the being of God? On liow many clear, easy, and demonstrative evidences, have they esta- blished this fundamental article of religion? How clearly have they illustrated the doctrine of the immortality of the soul? How admira- bly has philosophy coincided with religion on this article, to disengage spirit I'roin matter, to mark the functions of each substance, to dis- tinguish which belongs to the body, and which to the mind? How clearly also have they proved the truth of religioit' With what in- dustry have they investigated the abyss of an- cient literature, demonstrated and rendered palpable the prodigies achieved seventeen cen- turies ago? I speak not this to make an eulogium on our age, and elevate it in your esteem. I have, my brethren, views more exalted. All the knowledge of this period is dispensed by that wise Providence which watches over your sal- vation, and it will serve for your refutation. Tho economy of the Holy Spirit, who illumi- nates your mind, has been fully discussed. If, therefore, it be true, that tho atrocity of sin is proportionate to the knowledge of tho delin- quent; — if it be true, that those " who know their Master's will, and do it not, shall be punished with more stripes than those who are ignorant and negligent," Luke xii. '17; — if it be true, that the sin of such persons remains, as Jesus Christ has alfirmed, John ix. 41; — if it be true, that " it wcro better not to have known the way of righteousness, than to turn from the holy commandment," 2 Pet. ii. 21; — if it be true, that God will require five talents of those who have received rtve, while those who have received but two shall be account- eous men, and prophets had desired to see,' .Matt. xiii. 17. You are j)ressed more than they by motives of interest, "you have receiv- ed of his fulness, and grace for grace," John i. IG; you to whom Christ has "revealed im- mortality and life," 2 Tim. i. 10; who having received such jiromiscs you ought to bo the more separated " from all hlthiness of the flesh and of tho spirit," — more than they, by mo- lives of fear, "for knowing the terrors of tho Lord," you ought to be tho more obedient to his will. More than they by motives of emu- lation; you have not only " the cloud of wit- nesses," but the grand pattern, the model of perfection, who has left us so fine an example that we should tread in his steps; who lias said, " Learn of mo, for I am meek and lowly of heart," Matt. xi. 29. Looking unto Jesus tho author and finisher of your faith; you ought, according to St. Paul's exhortation, to bo induced " not to cast away your confi- dence," Hob. X. 35. More than lliey by tho grandeur of your heavenly birth; " you have not received the spirit of bondage unto fear, but the Spirit of adoption, whereby we cry, Abba, Prattler," Kom. viii. 15. What is the result of all these arguments? If you have more motives, you are more cul- pable; and if you are more culpable, the mercy whicli they have obtained, concludes nothing in your favour; and the objection, which you derive from example, is altogether sophistical. And what is worse, this superabundance of motives renders your conversion more difficult, and thereby destroys the hopes you found on their example. For though the Holy Spirit has a supreme power over the heart, nothing, however, is more certain, that in promoting our conversion, he acts with us as rational be- ings, and in conformity to our nature; he pro- poses motives, and avails himself of their force, to induce us to duty. Conse(juently, when the heart has long resisted the grand motives of conversion, it thereby becomes obdurate. How were those miraculous conversions ef- fectuated to which you appeal? It was in a way toUilly inapplicable to you. The first time Zaccheus saw Jesus Christ, he received the promise of salvation. Zacclieus feeling, by the efficacy of grace, the force of a motive which had never been proposed before, yielded immediately without hesitation. The converts, on the day of Pentecost, were in suspense con- cerning what opinion they should form of able but for two. Matt. .xxv. — If it be true, that Jesus Christ: they had crucified him in igno- it shall be more tolerable for Tyre and Sidon, than for Chorazin and Bethsaida; — it is also true, that your arguments are sophistical; that the example of those sinners can atford you nothing but deceitful hopes, which llatter the delay of ronversion. From this last consideration eirises auolber, ranee, and Jerusalem remained undecided what to think of him after his death. The apostles ])reachod; they jiroved by their miracles the truth of his resurrection. Then those men, being struck with motives never before pro- posed, yielded at once. Thus tho Holy Spirit operated in their hearts; but in a manner con- 264 ON THE DELAY OF CONVERSION. [SïR. LXXXI. formable to their nature, proposing motives, and employing their force to captivate the heart. But these operations of the Holy Spirit have lost their effect with regard to you. What motives can be in future proposed, which have not been urged a thousand times, and which have conseciuently lost tiieir efhcacy.'' Is it the mercy of God.' That you have turned into lasciviousness. Is it the image of Jesus Christ refuted with the same ease. And though the whole of these probabilities were refuted, how many criminating circumstances occur in your life which were not in his.' We said, that he had not received the education which you have; he had not received the torrent of grace, with which you are inundated; he was unacquainted with a thousand motives, w'hich operate on you; the moment he saw Jesus Christ, he loved him, and he believed on him. How was crucified? Him you daily crucify afresh, with- I that' With what faith? At what time? In a out remorse and without repentance. Is it the hope of heaven? You look only at "the things which are seen." Is it tlie fear of hell? That has been painted a thousand and a thousand times, and you have acquired the art of braving its terrors and torments. If God should, there- fore, employ in your behalf the same degree of power, which eflectuated those instantane- ous conversions, it would be found insufficient; if he should employ for you the same miracle, that miracle would be too weak. It would re- quire a more abundant portion of grace to con- vert you, than it did to convert the others; consequently, a miracle, less distinguished than was afforded them, concludes nothing in favour of that, which is the object of your hope, and the flimsy foundation of your security. A third difference is derived from the dura- tion of their crimes. Of all the sinners we have enumerated, if we may except the con- verted thief, there is not one who persevered in vice to the close of life- St. Peter, St. Paul, and Uavid, were but a few moments, but a few days, or a few years at most, entangled in sin. They consecrated the best part of life to the service of God. They were unfaithful in a few instances, but afterward their fidelity was unremitting. manner the most heroic in the world: a faith like his was never found in Israel. At the time when Jesus Christ was fixed on the cross; when he was pierced with tlie nails; when he was delivered to an infuriated populace; when they spit upon him; when ho was mocked by the Greek; when he was rejected by the Jew; when he was betrayed by Judas; when St. Peter denied him; when his disciples fled; when Jesua made himself of no reputation, and took upon himself the form of a servant, the thief, — the thief seemed to have taken all the faith to him- self, and to constitute the whole church. After all, this is but a solitary example: if the converted thief afford you consolation in your crimes, tremble, tremble sinners, when you cast your eyes on him, who was hardened at his side; and let the singularity of this late con- version induce you to fear, lest you should not have been chosen of God, to furnish to the universe a second proof of the success of a con- version deferred to the hour of death. A fourth reflection turns on the virtues of those sinners, whose example you adduce. For though one criminal habit may suffice, where repentance is wanting, to plunge into the abyss, him who is enslaved w'ith it, whatever his vir- tues may be; yet there is a vast disparity be- Their fall shook their confidence, but did tween the state of two men, one of whom has not overthrow it: it was enveloped, but not | fallen, indeed, into a crime, but who otherwise choked; obscured, but not extinguished. , has the virtues of a great saint; and the other 1 acknowledge the good thief seems to have, of whom has fallen into the same crime, but is with the sinners we attack, the sad conformity wanting in those virtues. You bear with of persisting in vice to the end of life. But his history is so short in the gospel, the circum- stances related are so few, and the conjectures we may make on this subject are so doubtful and uncertain, that a rational man can find in it, no certain rule for the regulation of his conduct. Who was this thief? What was his crime? What induced him to commit it? What was the first instance of his depravity? What was that of his repentance? What means did grace employ for his conversion? So many questions, so many doubts, so many sulficient reasons for inferring nothing from his conversion. Per- haps he had been engaged in this awful course fault in a servant, when he is well qualified for your service; but this defect would be in- supportable in the person of another, destitute of tliose talents. Apply this remark to the subject in hand. It is to inquire, whether God will extend his mercy to you after the perpetration of notori- ous offences. You allege, for your comfort, the case of those sinners who have obtained mercy; after having proceeded in vice, at least, according to your opinion, as far as yourselves. Take two balances: weigii with one hand their crimes and your crimes: weigh with the other their virtues and your virtues. If the weights are equal, your argument is conclusive: the but a short lime. Perha])s, seduced by an un- grace which they have obtained, is an infallible happy ease, he was less guilty of theft than of test that you sliall not be excluded. But if softness and compliance. Perhaps only the you should find, on inquiry, a diflerence; if accomplice of Barabbas in sedition, he had less design of disturbing society, than of checking the tyrannic and exorbitant power of the Ro- mans. Perhaps, surprised by weakness, or tempted by necessity, he had received sentence for his first offence. Perhaps, having languish- ed a long time in prison, he had repented of his sin. We do not affirm these things, they are merely conjectures; but all that you can object are similar conjectures, which may be you should find, on your dying bed, that you have resembled them in what is odious, and not in what is acceptable, do you not perceive, my brethren, the impropriety of your presump- tion, and the absurdity of your hopes' Now, who is there, who is there among us, who abandons himself to vice, that will com- pare himself with those illustrious saints in regard to virtue; as it is readily acknowledged that they resemble them in regard to faults? Ser. LXXXI.] ON THE DELAY UF CONVEIISION. 265 You follow, to-day, the multihide to do evil, as Zaccheus, and, as tlio apostles before their con- version: so far tlic parallel is just; but can yoti prove, like tliein, that you obeyed the first calls of Jesus Christ; that you have never been of- fended, either with the severity of his j)reccpts, or with the bloody horrors of his cross and mar- tyrdom? You sacrifice, like David, to an impu- dent Batlisheba, the riifhts of the Lord, wlio enjoins temperance and modesty: so far the parallel is j-ust; but have you, like him, had " the law of God in your heart?" Have you, like him, " rose at midnight, to sing praises to God?" Have you, like him, made charity your glory, and piety your dcligliL' You per- secute the church, like St. Paul, by your mali- cious objections, and profane sneers; you draw away disciples, as the zealot once did, by per- secutions and punishments: so far the parallel is just; but have you asked Jesus Christ, as he did, the first moment he appeared to him in the way to Damascus, " Lord, what wouldst thou have me to do?" Have you neither con- ferred with Hesh nor blood, when required, like him, to go up to Jerusalem, and abjure the prejudices of your fathers? Has your zeal re- sembled his, so as to feel your spirit stirred within you, at the sight of a superstitious altar? And has your love resembled his, so as to be billing to be accursed for your brethren? You have denied Jesus Christ, as St. Peter; and that criminal laxity, which induced you to comply in such and such company, when virtue was attacked, has made you like this apostle, who denied him in the court of Caiaphas: so far the parallel is just; but have you, like him, burned with zeal for the interests of his glory? Have you said, with an ardour like his, "Lord, thou knowest that I love thee?" Have you. like him, prodigal of your blood, been ready to seal the truths of the gospel; and, after be- ing made a spectacle to the world, are you, like him, ready to bo offered up? You, like the thief, have that false weiglit, and that short measure, which you secretly use on your counter, and in your warehouse; or that au- thority which you openly abuse in the face of the world, and on the seat of justice: you liberal culprits, who, perha])s, have imposed on strangers, or attacked them with open force: so far the parallel is just; but have you, like him, had eyes, which penetrated through the clouds, with which Christ was surrounded on the cross? }lave you, like him, discovered the God of heaven and earth, in the person of the crucified Redeemer? Have j'ou, like him, repaired, with the sincerity of your expiring brealii, the crimes of your whole life? if the parallel be still just, your argu- ment is good, and your recourse to mercy shall be attended with the same success. 15ut if the parallel be defective; if you find, on your death-bed, that you have followed those cha- racters solely in what was sinful, then your argument is false; and you ought, at least, to relin(iuish the hopes you have founded on their examj)les. 5. We find, in short, another difference be- tween the men who delay conversion, and the sinners, whose cases they adduce; it is certain that they were converted and obtained mercy, whereas it is e.xtremely doubtful whether Uie Vol. II. -31 others shall ever obtain it, and be converted. What, according to your mode of arguing, constitutes the strength of your objection, be- comes the solidity of our reply. A sinner, in the career of crimes, is in a fluctuating condi- tion, placed between life and death; equally un- certain whether he shall obtain salvation, or become the victim of perdition. These then, men who delay conversion, thcso are the sin- ners wo have to attack. You allege the case of characters, whose state has been already de- termined; and whose repentance has been real- ized by e.Tj)crience. Each of these, while, like you, habituated to vice, was, like you, uncer- tain whether they should obtain mercy, or whether the door would be shut. Access has been opened, pardon has been granted. Thus the question is decided; and all doubts, with regard to them, are done away. Hut your situation is quite the reverse. You have the sins of their fluctuating state, not the grace of their determined condition, which induces a favourable confidence. In this painful suspense, who is in the right' We, who tremble at the awful risk you run; or you, who rely on the precarious hope of extricating yourselves from sin? Who is in the right' Those accommodating guides, who, in your greatest profligacy, continually assure you of the divine mercy, which serves merely as a pretext to confirm you in crimes; or we, who brandish before your eyes the awful sword of justice, to alarm your indolence, and rouse you from soft security? Collect now, my brethren, all this variety of reflections; and, if there remain with you a shadow of honesty, renounce the advantage you pretend to derive from these examples. Consider, that many of these conversions are not only out of the common course of religion, but also that they could not have been effec- tuated by less than miraculous powers. Con- sider that, among all those sinners, there was not one in the situation of a Christian, who delays conversion to the close of life. Consi- der that you are enlightened with meridian lustre, which they have scarcely seen. Consi- der that you are pressed with a thousand mo- tives totally unknown to them. Consider, that they continued, for tlie most part, but a short time in sin; but you have wasted life in folly. Consider, that they possessed distin- guished virtues, whici» rendered them dear to God; but you have nothing to offer him but dissi])ation or indolence. Consider, that they were distinguished by reiicntancc, and afforded lasting proofs of their sincerity: whereas it is still doubtful whether you shall ever be con- verted, and you go the way to make it impos- sible. See, tlien, whether your arguments are just, and whether your ho])es are properly Ibnndcd. 'J'hese examples, wo acknowledge, my bre- thren, are very encouraging to those who dili- gently endeavour to reform. We delight in enforcing them to those contrite and simple souls; to consciences bruised and tender that tremble at tîod's word. AVe came not to straiten the way to heaven; we came not to jueach a severe morality, and to announce a divinity ferocious and cruel. A\'ould to God that every sinner, in tliis assembly, would re- 260 ON TUE DELAY OF CONVERSION. [Ser. LXXXI. collect himself, and swell the catiilogue of con- ▼crts, in which grace has been triiiniphaiit! But Imnlcned men «an infer notiiing hence, except alarming considerations. Uitlierto we have examined tiio cases of those sinners, who apparently contradict our principles; let us, in the next place, liricHy re- view those, by wiiidi they arc conlinned. Let us prove that the lonj^f-siillering of (Jod has its limits; and that in ord(;r to fnid him propitious, we must "seek the Lord while he may be found, and call upon him while he is near." Tliis is our scjcond head. II. Tlirce distiii^niishcd e(j;)le with the sword, and had no compassion on the young man, nor the aged, nor the infirm. They burnt the house of God, and demolished his palaces," 2 Chron. xxxvi. 15—17. \Vhat happened to ancient Jerusalem, liap- ])ened also to modern Jerusjilem; I would say, .li^rusalem as it stood in oin- Saviour's time. A thousand oracles had jiredictcd the advent id' th(! Messiah; the prophets had said that ho was about to come; St. John the l!a|)tist af- firmed, that he was at the door; Jesus Christ came, in short, saying. Here 1 am. He walked in the streets of Jcru.salem, he instructed them by his doctrine, he astonished them by his mi- racles, he influenced them by his example; he cried in their a.sscndjiies, " Walk while you have the light, hîst darkness come nj>on you," John xii. \it). " U JerusaliMU, Jerusalem, thou that killest the jiropbets, and stoncst them that are sent unto thee, how often would I havo gathered thy children together, even as a hen gatherelh her thickens under her wings, and ye would not," Malt, xxiii. 37. That was the time; hut they sutlered (he jireeious moments to escajie. .And what did Je.sus Christ add? " lie wept over it, saying, If thou hadst known, Ser. LXXXI.] ON THE DF:r,AY OF CONVERSION. 267 even thou, at least in this thy day, tlio tilings which belong unto tliy jteace! but now tiiciy are hid from thine eyes," Luitc xix. 12. Do you feel all the force of these last words, " now tlicy arc liid from tliine eyes?" Jerusalem was not, however, yet destroyed; the teiii))h! still 8lood; the Romans offered them ])ea(rovinces?* Whence arc you? In what coun- try were you born? Ah! my brethren, yrived them after all but of a momentary life, liiereby saving both tiiem and yourselves from th(! horrors of famine. Rut here both are pre- cipitated into the same abyss. The niotiier, by a prodigy unheard of, if 1 may so speak, nourishes lierself with tlie substance of her son's soul, and the son in his turn nourishes Idmself witli the substance of his mother's soul. Ah! my brethren, these are our proofs; these arc our aigumcnts; these axe the solijtions we * France was then formed into Iwenly-foiir iirnvinccs, now it is divided into about ciglity-thrte dt-partinttilii. t All idict was imlilishrd by the king of Kriinct, coin- maiuliii'; liis officers to oonfiscale tlie goods of tliuse wlio did not perform tlie acts of a good Calliolic in tlicirlasi hours. give of your olijcrtions; this is really the time in which "the Lord will not be found." For, since your calamities, what elforU? have l)ecn uni'A to terminate! liiem, and to soften the ven- geance which iiin-sucs yon! How many humili- ations! How many fasts! How many interces- sions! IldW niiiiiy tears! 1 low many protesta- tions! liiiw iii.iiiy disconsubile mothers, satis- fied witli liic ruin of their faniilies, have asked no s|><)il, but the s(juls of their children! How ninny J\Iiiscsi's, how many Samiirls have stood luf'uri: (!<}tl, and iniplon-d tin; liberation of his church! I'lit all in vain. The time was past, the Lord would bo found no more, and per- ha|fs,— perhaps, — no more forever. — Jer. xv. 5. Happy in the extreme of our misery, if w« may yet hojie, that they will be salutary to those who have reached the sliore on the bro- ken boards of the shipv.'reck? F(jr, my brethren, wo consent that you should turn away your eyes from whatever is glorious in our exile, to look solely at that which is deplorable. What do those groups of fugitives, and dismemljcred families say to you? We arc sent by the God of vengeance. In banishing us from our coun- try, he said, go, — go, unhappy peoj)le; — go, and tell the world the conse(pienccs of falling into tiie hands of an angry (Jod. Teach the C^iiristian world your blmjdy, but salutary les- sons; sav to my children, in whatsoever part of the earth you may be cast; " except ye re- pent, ye shall all likewise perish," Luke xiii. 3. JJnt you yet stand, ye walls of this temple;,you yet flonrisli, O hajipy provinces; though the long-suflcring of God lias its limits. JJut I cheek myself on the verge of this awful pre- diction. II. Merely enumerating the remaining sub- jects, I would say, that experience, in the ca.se of hardened sinners, supplies us with a second exanii)le. It is a received opinion, and not without some foundation, that the period allot- ted for rcjientanco extends to the whole of life, and tiiat (Jod has no design in sparing us, but to promote our conversion. This is the sense of the Chaidee paraphrase; for so it renders the text; "Seek ye the Lord while you have life, call ye upon him while you are spared upon the earth." We will not oppose the thought; meaiuvhile we confidently aflirni, that we daily see among our hearers sinners whom grace seems to have forsaken, and who appear to be lost without resource. How often do we see people among us so ha- bituated to ofiend against the dictates of con- science, that they now sin without remorse, and without rejicntanee! K the things we jireach to you were problematical; — if they were things which so far excilexl doubt and un- certainty in the mind, iliat we could not be as- sured of their reality; — if they were merely al- lowed, or forbidden, we should not be surprised at this insensibility. Rut do we not see persons in cold blood committing the most atrocious crimes, carrying on intiimous intrigues, nour- ishing inveterate ])rejudices, handing them down from father to son, and making them the heritage of the family? Do we not see them committing those things in cold blood, and less shocked now at the enormity of their crimes, than they formerly were at the mere thought of them, and who are a:s insensible of all we 268 ON THE DELAY OF CONVERSION. [Ser. LXXXI. say to affect thorn, aa if we were repeating fa- bles, or reciting frivolous talcs? Whence does this proceed, my brethren? From the same cause we have endeavoured to prove in our preceding discourses, tiiat habits, if not correct- ed, become confirmed: that tlio Holy Spirit withdraws himself; that he ceases to knock at the door of our hearts, and leaves us to our- selves when wo resist his grace. These are seared consciences; they are fascinated minds; these are men given up to a spirit of delusion, Rom. i. 21; " Tiieir hearts are waxed gross; they have eyes, and tiiey see not, they have hearts, and they do not understand," Isa. vi. 10. If the arguments advanced in tlie preceding discourses, have been incapable of producing conviction, do not, at least, dis|)ute willi us what you sec every day, and what passes before your eyes. Preaciiors, be not astonished after this, if your arginnents, if your proofs, if your demonstrations, if your exhortations, if your most tender and pathetic entreaties have so lit- tle effect. God himself fights against you. You demonstrate, and God blinds their eyes: you exhort, and God hardens the heart; and that Spirit, — that Spirit, who by his victorious power endeavours to illuminate the simple, and make them that fear him to understand his se- cret; — that Spirit, by the power of vengeance, hardens the others in their wilful insensibility. This awful period often comes with greater rapidity than we think. When we speak of sinners who are become incorrigible, wc under- stand not only the aged, vvho have run a course of fifty or sixty years in crimes, and in whom sin is become natural. We speak also of those less advanced in age; who have refused to de- vote to God the early years of youtli; who have assumed the flourishing titles of infidelity, and atheism; who are in effect, become Atheists, and have imbibed prejudices, from which it is noy impossible to move them. At first, this was simply a want of zeal; then it became in- difference, then followed coldness and indo- lence, afterward contempt of religion, and in the issue, the most obstinate and outrageous profaneness. I select cases for you who are yet susceptible of good impressions. They are pro- videntially placed in open view to inspire you with holy fear; God h;is exposed them in hie church as buoys and beacons, erected on the coast to warn tiie mariner's; thoy say, keep your distance in passing here, fly this dreadful place, let the remains of tliin shipwreck induce you to seek deep waters and a safer course. III. Let this produce a third example, and would to God that we had less authority for producing it, and were less instructed on the suiiject! This is dying men; — an example which you may adduce, to liarden yourselves in vice; but which if properly understood, is much more calculated to excite alarm. We see in gonenil, that every dying man, however wicked he may have been <)uriiig lifu, seems to be converted on the approach of death; and we readily persuade ourselves that it is so in eflect: and consequent- ly, that llioro is no great diliicully in becoming regenerate in our last nionuMits. i{ut two things have always prejudiced me against a late re- pentance; — the nature of those sorrows, and es- pecially the constijutticex. First, The nature of those sorrows. After acquiring some knowledge of the human heart, wc fully perceive that there is nothing in it but what is extorted; that it is the fear of punish- ment, not the sentiments of religion and equity; that it is the approach of death, not an abhor- rence of sin; that it is the terrore of hell, not the effusions of true zeal, which animate the heart. The sailor, while enjoying a favourable breeze, braves the Deity, ullering his blasphe- mies against Heaven, and apparently acknow- ledging no Providence but his profession and industry. The clouds become black; the sluices of heaven open; the lightnings flash in the air; the thunder becomes tremendous; the winds roar; the surge foams, the waves of the ocean seem to ascend to heaven; and heaven in turn seems to descend into the abyss. Conscience, alarmed by these terrific objects, and more so by the image of hell, and tlie expectation of immediate and inevitable death, endeavours to conceal herself from the pursuing vengeance of God. Blasphemy is changed to blessing, pre- sumption to prayer, security to terror. This wicked man all at once, becomes a saint of the first class: and as though he would deceive the Deity, after having first deceived himself, he arrogates, as the right of this false reform, ad- mission into heaven, and claims the whole re- wards of true repentance. What! conversions of this kind dazzle Cliris- tians! What! sailors, whose tears and cries owe their origin to the presence of immediate danger, from which they would be saved! But it is not in the agitation produced by peril, that we may know whether we have sincere re- course to God. It is in tranquil and recollect- ed moments that the soul can best examine and investigate its real condition. It is not when the world has quitted us, that we should begin like true Christians to quit the world; it is when the world smiles, and invites us to taste its charms. But what finally decides on those hasty reso- lutions are the consequences. Of all the saints that have been made in haste, you find scarcely one, on deliverance from danger, who fulfils the vows he has made. There is scarcely one who does not relapse into vice with the same rapidity with which he seemed to abandon it; a most conclusive argument, that such conver- sions are not sincere. Had it been true zeal, and divine love which dictated all those profes- sions, and kindled that fire which seemed to burn, you would, no doubt, have retained the effects; but finding no fruit of your fervent re- solutions, we ought to be convinced that they were extorted. Could your heart thus pass in one moment from one extreme to the other? Could it pass in one moment from repentance to obduracy, and from obduracy to repentance? (.'ould it correct in one moment habits of vice, and assume habits of piety, and renounce with equal ease habits of piety, to resume habits of vice? The case of tliose whom God has re- stored to life, ought to correct )'our judgment, concerning those whom he takes away. To all these proofs, my brethren, which I am not permitted to state in all their lustre, I fear lest another should soon bo added; — I fear lest a fourth exaini)le should convince the world how dangerous it is to delay conversion. This proof, this example, is no other than the major Ser. LXXXI.] ON THE DELAY OF CONVERSION. 269 part of this congregation. On considering tlic way of life wliich most of you follow, we fiiiii but too inucji Cciuse for this awful coiijucturo. But should wu see you, witiiout alarm, run headlong into tiie abyss from wliioli you cannot be delivered by never-ceasing lamentations and tears? No, my brethren, we will redouble our entreaties, wo will make fresh exertions to press on your minds these important trutlis. APPLICATION. The first thing we require of you is to enter into your own heart, to do justice to yourselves, to confess tiiat most of you are in tiie awful situation we have attacked; that you are nearly all guilty of delaying conversion. I know tiiat the Imman heart has its evasions, and that con- science has its depths. But, after all, you arc not so far blind as to believe that, while carried away as some of you are with avarice, others with ambition; some with voluptuousness, others zeal, this fervour; these indispensable duties of religion, the es.sential characters of a Christian, is it not true tiiat tiiey are not tiie acquisitions of a moment, of an iiour, of a day? Is it not true, tliat, to attain tiiis happy state, there must be time, labour, and re|iealcd endeavours; conse(|uently, that a transient thought on a death-bed, and in the last periods of life, is quite inadequate to so great a work? Is it not true, tiiat the Holy Spirit, in extending his as- sistance, requires that we siiould ask his aids, yield to his entreaties, and pay deference to an cvangehcal ministçy? Is it not true, that ho abandons to themselves those who resist his work; that it is tlience concluded in the Scrip- ture that we need his grace for our sanctifica- tion; and tliat we ought to work out our salva- tion with so niucii the more diligence? Is it not true, that mercy has restrictions and bounds, that it is promised to those only who conform to the covenant of grace, that those conditions with slander; and some witli a haughtiness j are not a momentary repentance, a slight re- which nothing can bend; living, as most of you do, resident in a city where you find all the temptations of vice in high life, and all the fa- cility in the haunts of infamy, you are not so far blinded as to think that you are in a state of regeneration, while persisting in this course. And, as I supposed before, that no one of you is so far infatuated as to say, I have made my choice, I am resolved to cast myself headlong course to mercy, a superficial desire to partici- pate in the merits of Christ's death; they imply such a total change, renovation of heart, and transformation of the soul, and in such sort, that when one is not in a state to conform to the conditions, we are no longer within the sphere of evangelical promises. Is it not true, in short, that those truths are not founded merely on arguments, on a chain of conse- into the pit of destruction, and to be a victim | {|uences, and remote principles? But they are of eternal vengeance; as no one of you has car- ried infatuation to this extreme, I am right in concluding, that nearly all of you rely on a fu- ture conversion. Begin here, begin by doing justice to yourselves on tiiis point. This is tlie first thing we reiiuire you to do. The second is, to recollect the arguments we have urged in our preceding discourses, against the delay of conversion, and confess their force. In the first, we addressed you as well-informed and rational beings; we proved from the human constitution, that conversion becomes either dilficuit or impracticable in proportion as it is deferred. In the second, we addressed you as Christians, who acknowledge a revelation re- ceived from heaven; and we endeavoured to prove these truths by that revelation; — by the character of the economy of the Holy Sjjirit; — by the nature and conditions of tlie new cove- nant; — capital points of faith, fundamental ar- ticles of religion, which you cannot evade, if you have the smallest sliadow of Christianity. To-day we have directed all our efforts to ena- ble you to comprehend the same things by clear, certain, and indisputable exiierience. Over- looking, therefore, every thing which concerns us in particular, and our weakness, which we acknowledge and feel, do justice to our proofs; acknowledge their force; and inquire, whether you have yet any thing further to object. Seek, examine, investigate. Is it not true, that bad habits become confirmed witii age? Predominate in the heart? Take possession of all the intellectual powers, and transform them- selves, so to speak, into our nature' Is it not true, that habits of piety are not acquired in- stantaneously, in a moment, by a sudden wish, and a simple emotion of the soul? Is it not true, that this detachment from sensible objects, this giving up the world, this self-denial, this demonstrated by sound and incontestable ex- perience. Hence we ask you once more to ad- mit the force of our arguments, and to do jus- tice to the evidence we have adduced. Thirdly, what we also require is, that you should acknowledge the ineificacy of sermons with regard to you, the little eftect they com- monly have, and consequently the little influ- ence which ours (and especially those last delivered) have produced on your conduct. There is not a week, but some vice is at- tacked; — not a week, but some one ought to be corrected; — not a week, but some evident change ought to be produced in civil and reli- gious society. And what do we see? I ap- peal to your consciences; you regard us as declaimers, called to entertain you for an hour, to diversify your pleasure, or to pass away the first day of tiio week; diverting your attention from secular concerns. It seems that we as- cend our pulpits to atford you amusement, to delineate characters, implicitly submitting to your judgment, academic compositions; to say, " Come, come and see whether we have a fer- tile imagination, a fine voice, a graceful ges- ture, an action agreeable to your taste." With these detestable notions, most of you establish your tribunal, judging of the object of our ser- mons: which you sometimes find too long, some- times too short, sometimes too cold, and some- times too pathetic. Scarcely one among )'ou turns them to tlieirtrue design, purity of heart, and amendment of life. This is the success of the sermons you have heard. Should we think our discourses more happy? We should be too credulous did we expect it. It must be ac- knowledged, my brethren, that all we have said on the delay of conversion, has been of little avail with regard to most of you. Phi- losophy, religion, experience, — all leave you 270 ON THE DELAY OF CONVERSION. [Ser. LXXXI. much the same as you were before. This is the third tliiiiir you ought to confess. When }ou liave iiiatlc tlicsc reHections, we will ask, what are your tiioiiijiiLs? What part will you take? What will you do? Wiiat will become of all the (icrsons who compose this congregation? You know, on llic one hand, that you arc among the ncgleclers of salvation; you sec, on the other, by cvidenfos deduced from reason. Scripture, and experience, that those who thus delay, run the risk of never be- ing converted. You are obliged to allow, that tiie most pathetic exhortations are addressed, in general witiiout effect; and, meanwhile, time is urgent, life vanishes away; and the mo- ment in which you yourselves must furnish a test of tlicsc sad truths, is just at hand. Do all these things make any impression on your minds? Do they give any stroke at the unhap- py security in whicli you live? Do they trou- ble the false repose in which you rest? Have they any intluence on your lives? I know the part you are going to take; that, unable to think of them without horror, you are going to banish them from your mind, and olface them from your memory. You are go- ing, on leaving this place, to fortify yourselves against this holy alarm, which has now, per- haps, been excited; you are going to talk of any subject but those important truths which liave been preached, and to repose in indo- lence; to cause fear and trembling to subside, by banishing every idea which have excited them; like a man in a fatal sleep, while his house is on fire; we alarm him, we cry, " House from your stupor, your house is on fire." He opens his eyes, he wishes to fly for safety; but falling again into his former lethargy, he be- comes fuel to the flames. My brethren, my very dear brethren, think, O think that the situation of your minds does not alter these grand truths. You may forget them, but you cannot change, them. VS'hethcr you may think of them or not, they still sub- sist in all their force. You may indeed shut your eyes against the abyss which is under your feet; but you cannot remove it, you can- not avoid it, so long as you disregard our warn- ings, and resist our entreaties. If your salvation is dear to you, if you have yet the least sensibility, the smallest spark of love to God — if you have not resolved on your own ruin, and sworn to your own destruction, flnter into your hearts from this moment. Let each, from this moment, take salutary mea- sures to subdue his predominant propensity. Withdraw not from this temple, without be- ing firmly resolved on a change of life. (xmsi(l<;r that you were not sent into the world, to aggrandize and enrich yourselves; to form attachments which serve as unhappy ties to bold y(ju on the earth; mucii loss to scanda- lize the church, to be high-spirited, proud, im- I)eriou8, unjust, voluptuous, avaricious. (îod ms plac<;d you here in a state of probation, that you might hecomo prepared for a better world. Consider, that, though the distractions of life may frcf|ueiitly call a considerate man to bo engaged in Iho world, in defiance of his wishes; yet there is nothing so unworthy as to bfi, like most of you, always dissipated, always ilevuted to pleasure. (Consider, that though this vacuity of life might bo excused in a youth following the impulse of nature, before he has had time to reflect, yet games, diversions and theatres, do but ill accord with gray hairs; and that, at least, he should devote the remains of life, to the service of (Jod, and the advance- ment of his own salvation. K.xomine yourselves on these heads; let each make them the touchstone of his conduct; let him derive from them motives of reformation; let the time past suHice to have gratified his concupiscence; let him tremble on considering the wounds he has given his soul, and the dan- gers he has run, in delaying to the present hour. Is it forty, fifty, or sixty years since I came into the world? What have I been doing? What account can I give of a period so pre- cious? Wliat virtues have I acquired? What wicked propensities have I suMuod? What progress have I made in charity, in humility, and in all the virtues for which God has given me birtk' Have not a thousand various pas- sions divided the empire of my heart'' Have they not all tended to enslave me? O misera- ble man! perhaps my day of grace is past: per- haps in future I may knock in vain at the door of mercy: perhaps I may be numbered with those of whom Christ says, " Many shall seek to enter in and shall not be able:" perhaps tlio insensibility I feel, and the resistance which my unhappy heart still makes, are the effects of divine vengeance: perhaps my time of visi- tation is past: perhaps God spares me only in life to make me a fearful example of the mis- ery of those who delay conversion: perhaps it is to me he addresses that sentence, " Let him that is unjust be unjust still, and let him that is unholy be unholy still." But, perhaps I have yet a little time: perhaps God has spar- ed me in life to afford mc occasion to repair my past faults: perhaps he has brought me to- day into this church to ])luck and save mo from my misery: jierhafis these emotionsofmy heart, these tears which run down mine eyes, are the efiects of grace: perhaps these soften- ings, this compunction, and these fears, are the voice which says, from God, " Seek ye my face:" perhaps this is the year of good-will; the accopt(!d time; the day of salvation: per- haps, if 1 delay no longer, if I promote my salvation without delay, I may succeed in the work, and see my endeavours gloriously crowned. O love of my Saviour, bowels of mercy, abyss of divine compassion! " C) length, breadth, heiglit, depth, of the love of God, which pas»- eth knowledge!" resolve this weighty inquiry; caltn the agitation of my mind; assure my flut- tering soul. Yes, () my (Jod, seeing thou hast spared me in life, I trust it is for salvation. Seeing thou seekest me still, I flatter mys«!lf it is for my conversion. Hence 1 assume now engagements, 1 ratify anew the covenant I have so of^en violatcersecutors. The grand design of the apo.>;lle in this epistle, was to inspire them with this constancy, and to prevent tlic fear of 272 ON PERSEVERANCE. [Ser. Lxxxn. punishments from causing thcin to fall into apootacy. This design is apparent, from the illustrious character he gives of the l^ord C'iirist, to whom they liad devoted themselves by embracing the Cliriistian religion. He is tiot a mere man, not an ordinary pmplict, not an anffel; i)ut the Lord of men, and of an<;^e!s. " For CJod," says the apostle at the commencement of tiiis epistle, " who spake in time past unto tlic fathers by the prophets, hath in tlieso last days spoken unto us by iiis Son, whom he hatii a])pointed heir of all things, by whom also ho made the worlds. Wlio being the brightness of his glory, and the express image of his person, and uji- holding all tilings by the word of his power, when he had by himself purged our sins, sat down on the right hand of the Majesty on high; being made so much better than tiio angels, as he hath by inheritance obtainttd a more excel- knt name than they. For unto which of the angels, said he, at any time. Thou art my Son, this day have 1 begotten thee.'" Heb. i. 1 — 5. This design is fartiier apj>arent, as the apos- tle apprizes the Hebrews concerning the diffi- culty, and even the impossibility of obtaining mercy after an abjuration accompanied with certain aggravating circumstances, which time does not permit me here to enumerate. The sense is asserted in these words: " It is impos- sible for those, who were once enlightened, and have tasted of the heavenly gift, and were made partakers of the Holy Ghost, and have tasted of the good word of God, and the powers of the world to come, if they fiill away to renew tiiem again unto repentance," Heb. vi. 4 — 6. To "fall away," here signifies, not the repetition of a criminal habit we had lio])ed to reform, (and who could expect salvation if this were tiie meaning of tlie apostle?) but professing again the errors we had renounced on becoming Chris- tians, and abjuring Christianity itself. This design appears likewise, from the care the apostle takes to exalt the Christian econo- my above that of Moses: hence he infers, that if the smallest ofFenccs, committed against tlie Levitical economy, were punisiied witii rigour, there cannot be punishments too severe for those who shall have the baseness to abjure Christianity. " If we sin wilfully after that we have received the knowledgeof the truth, there remaincth no more sacrifice for sins, but a cer- tain fearful looking iijr of judgment, and fiery indignation which shall devour tiiu adversa- ries," Heb. X. 26, ill. The sin into which we wilfully fall, does not mean those relap.scs, of which we sjiake just now, as the ancient fathers believed: whose severity Wiis much mure calcu- lated to precipiUitc ai)ostates into tiie abyss from which they wished to save them, than to jircserve them from it. iJiit to sin willully, in this place signifies aiioslacy; tiiis is the? sense of the words which immediately I'dIIow the pas- sago. "He that desjiiscd Moses' law, died without mer('y, under two or three witnesses; of how nmch sorer pimisluncnt, suppose ye, shall he be thouglit worthy, who hath trodden under foot the Son of (ioii, and counted the blood of the covenant, whi-rcwilh he was sanc- tified, an unholy thing, and hath done despite unto the Spirit of grace?" Heb. x. 'J8, 'J9. The whole is dcscrii)tivc of apostacy. The Jews, having prevailed with any of their nation, who had embraced Christianity to return to Judaism, were not satisfied with their abusing it; they required them to utter blasjjheinies against the person of Jesus, and against his mysteries, as ap|)par8 from the ancient forms of abjuration which the learned have preserved. All these considerations, and many more, of which the subject is susceptible, demonstrate, that the grand design of St. Paul, in his Epistle to the Hebrews, was to prevent apostacy, and to prompt them to confess the truth amidst the most cruel torments to which they might bo exposed by the profession. This is the design of my text. "Let us run with patience the race that is set before us; that is, let neither perse- cutions the most severe, nor promises the most specious, be able to induce you to deny Chris- tianity, nor any consideration deter you from professing it. On this first design of the apostle, we shall merely conjure those, with whom there may remain some doubt as to the horrors of apos- tacy, and tho necessity imposed on all Chris- tians either to leave the places which prohibit the i)rofession of the truth, or endure the se- verest tortures for religion; we shall conjure them seriously to reflect on what we advance; not to content themselves with general notions; to compare the situation of those Hebrews with that in which some of the reformed Christians arc {)hiced; to compare the abjurations required of the first, with those required of the latter; the I)unishments inflicted on the one, with those inflicted on the other; and tiie directions St. Paul gave the faithful of his own time, with those which are given to us. If, after sober and serious investigation, we still find casuists who doubt the doctrine, by aflirming, that those of our brethren, who still remain in France, ought to make their choice, between flight and mar- tyrdom, we will add no more; feeling ourselves unable to persuade men, with whom arguments so strong are incapable of conviction. Perhaps some of you think, that wc insist too often on liie same subjects. But we frankly avow, that, so very far from thinking we preach too often, it seems to us we by no means re- sume them sufficiently. We are also fully re- solved to insist upon them more powerfully than we have overdone before. Yes! while we shall see the incendiaries of the Christian world, men, who under the name of the meek and lowly Jesus elierish the most ambitious and barbarous sentiments, holding the reins of government in so large a sjiace of Europe, making drunk, if 1 may use an expression in tho Ilevelation, and an ex])rcssion by no means hvpcrbolical, "ma- king drunk the kings of the earth with the wine of their fornication:" while we shall set; edicta issued anew, which have so often made to blush every one who has a vestige of j)robitv in the conummity from which they proceed; while wo shall see fresii faggoLs kindled, new gibbets erected, additional galleys e(iuii)ped against the Protestants; while we see our imha|)py brethren invariably negligent to the iiresent period in which they promised to irivc glory to God, al- leging, as an excu.se, the .severity of the jiersc- cution, and tin; fiiry of tlie persecutors; that when peace shall be rcslored to tho churches, they will return to devotion; while wc see a StR. LXXXII.] ON PERSEVERANCE. 273 million of men bearing the Christian name, contenting theniKelves to live without tempiu, without public worship, without Bacranieiits, without hope of having on their doalii-heds the aids of ministers of the living God to comfort them against that terrific period; while we shall see fathers and mothers, so very far from send- ing into the land of liberty the children, whom they have had the weakness to retain in the climates of oppression, have even the laxity, ehall I say, or the insanity to recall those who have had courage to fly; while wo shall see ex- iles looking back with regret to the onions of Egypt, envying the condition of those who have sacrificed the dictates of conscience to fortune: while we shall see those lamentable objects, we will still enforce the doctrine of St. Paul in the epistle whence wo have selected the text. We will still enforce the expressions of the apostle, and in the sense already given. " Take heed, lest there be in any of you an evil heart of unbelief, in departing from the living God. — It is impossible for those who were once enlightened, and have tasted of the heavenly gift, and were made partakers of the Holy Ghost, and have tasted of the good word of God, and the powers of the world to come, if they fall away, to renew them again to re- pentance, seeing they crucify to themselves afresh the Son of God, and put him to an open shame. Let us hold fast the profession of our faith without wavering; for if we sin wilfully after that we have received the knowledge of the truth, there remaineth no more sacrifice for sins, but a certain fearful looking for of judgment, and fiery indignation which shall devour the adversaries. He that despised Moses' law died without mercy under two or thr«e witnesses^ of how much sorer punish- ment, suppose ye, shall he be thought worthy, who hath trodden under foot the Son of God, and hath counted the blood of the covenant, wherewith he was sanctified, an unholy thing, and hath done despite unto the Spirit of grace." And in our text, " Seeing we also." To what do these words refer? To what the apostle had said a little before respecting the faithful, who, for the sake of religion, " had been stoned, had been sawn asunder, had been killed with the sword:" after enumerating these, he adds, " Seeing we also are compassed about with so great a cloud of witnesses, let us run with pa- tience the race that is set before us." 2. Enough having been eaid concerning the first sense of the text which regards but few Christians, we shall proceed to the second; which concerns the whole body of Christians, who are still in a world which endeavours to detach them from the communion of Jesus Christ. St. Paul exhorts them to " run with patience the race that is set before them;" that is, to pereevere in fellowship with him. Per- severance is a Christian virtue. On this virtue shall turn the whole of our discourse, which shall be comprised under four classes of obser- vations. I. We shall remove what is equivocal in the term perxvtraiice, or ntnjii/ig- the race. II. We shall enforce the necessity of perse- verance. III. We shall remove certain systematical notions which excite confusion in this virtue. Vol. II.~35 IV. We shall point to the different classes of persons who compose this congregation, the various conse»|uences they should draw from this doctrine, and the sentiments with which it should actuate their minds. 1. We shall remove what is equivocal in the term [lersevcrance, and in the expression, " let us run with patience the race that is set before us." We may take the term in a double sense; or, to express myself more clearly, there are two w.ays in which we may consider the couise Jesus Christ prescribed to his disciples. We will call the first, losing the habit of Chris- tianity; and the second, doing actions incom- patible with its design. Hy the habit of Chris- tianity, we mean that disp()sition of a believer, in consequence of which, notwithstanding the weakness he may feel in virtue; — the defects with which he may have cause to reproach himself; — and the daily warfare between the tlesh and the Spirit, or even some victories which the flesh may obtain over the mind; — all things considered, he gives God the prefer- ence to the world and the flesh; and has a consciousness in his own breast, that divine love prevails in his heart over every other love. — We may also turn aside from the course prescribed by Jesus Christ to his disciples, by doing things incompatible with the design of Christianity. It would discover a defective knowledge of man to conclude, that ho has lost a habit the moment he does any action con- trary to it. One act of dissipation no more constitutes a habit of dissipation, than a single duty of piety constitutes the habit of piety; and we have no more reason for inferring, that, because a man has discovered one instance of attachment to the world, he is really earthly- minded, than we have to say, that, because a man has discharged a single duty of piety, he is really a pious man. In what sense then, does the Holy Spirit exhort us to persevere? Is he wishful to preserve us from doing any thing incompatible with the design of Chris- tianity? Is he wishful to preserve us from losing the habit' Doubtless, my brethren, his design is to pre- serve us from doing any thing contrary to the object of Christianity; because it is by a repeti- tion of this sort of actions tlial we lose what is called the habit of Christianity. That dis- position of mind, however, which induces a Christian to fortify himself against every temp- tation, is a mean rather to obtain the virtue which our Scriptures called perseverance, than perseverance itself When we say, according to inspired men, that, in order to be saved, we must endure to the end, we do not mean, that we should never in the course of life have committed a single fault; but that, notwith- standing any fault we have committed, we must be in the state just mentioned; that, all things being considered, we give God the pre- ference over sensible objects, and feel divine love in our hearts predominant over every other love. Where indeed should we be, if we could not be saved without undeviating perseverance, without. running with patience the race in the rigorous sense, I would say, so as never to commit an action incompatible with the design of Christianity? Where should we be, were God to scrutinize our life with 274 ON PERSEVERANCE. [8br. LXXXU. rigour; if he waited only for the first oflence we commit, to uluiiijo us into tlie abyss reserved for tlio wicked? Where would bo the Jobs, the Moseses, the Davids, and all tiiose distin- guished otlenders, whose memory the Holy Spirit has immortalized, to comfort us under our falls? One of the greatest motives to com- ply with a law is the lenity of tiie legislator: I will cite on this subject a j)assagc of Justin Martyr.* " How could Plato," says ho, " cen- sure Homer for ascribing to tiie Gods placa- bility by the oblation of victims? Those who have tiiis hope, are the very jtersons who en- deavour to recover themselves by repentance and reformation: whereas, when they consider the Deity as an inexorable being, they abandon the reins to corrupt propensities, having no expectation of effect from rei)entance." Distinguish then the virtue we enforce from one of the principal means of its acquisition. If you ask me what is perseverance? 1 answer, it is that disposition of mind whicli enables us, as I have more than once atlirmcd, and which is still necessary to repeat; it is that disposi- tion of mind which enables us, all things con- sidered, to give God the preference over every sensible object, that divine love may predomi- nate in our heart over every otlier love. If you ask me, what are the surest means of ac- quiring that disposition? I say, it is to watch against every temptation to which you may be exposed. I say, in order to preserve the habit of Christianity, you must use your utmost en- deavours never to do any thing incompatible with its design. II. Having removed the ambiguity of the term perseverance, we shall prove in the second arti- cle that we cannot be saved witliout this virtue. 1. Tiie j)assage we have e.\])liiineil is not solitary. It is a j)as,sage which coincides with many other te.\ts of Scripture. The truth, re- sulting from the sense here given, is not a truth substantiated solely by tiie text. It is an e.\- planation which a great number of express texts establish beyond the possibility of doubt. Weigh the following: " Let him that standcth take heed lest he fall," 1 Cor. x. 12. " Thou standest by faith. J5e not high-minded, but fear: for if God spared not the natural branches, take heed lest he also spare not thee. Bciiold, therefore, the goodness and tiioseverity of God: on them which fall severity; but towards tliee goodness, if thou continue in his goodness: otherwise thou also slialt be cut oil"," Rom. xi. 20 — 22. " I have heard the voice of the words of this people, which they have spoken unto thee: they have well said all that they have spoken. O that tiiere were sucii a heart in thein, that they would fear me, tliat it might be well with them, and their children for ever," Deut. V. 28, 29. " He that endurcth unto the end shall be saved," Matt. x. 22. " Hold that fast which thou hast, that no man take thy crown," Rev. iii. 11. " Tiiou son of man, say unto tiie children of thy people, the righteous- ness of the rigliteous sliall not deliver him in the day of his transgression: as for the wicked- ness of the wicked, ho sliall not fall thereby in the day that ho turncth from his wickedness; neither shall the righteous bo able to live for * Ad Grxcoi exhorl. p. 28. Ed. Colon. his righteousness in the day that he siiineth. When I say to the righteous, that he shall surely live: if he trust to his righteousness, and coniniit iniquity, all his righteousness shall not bo remembered; but for his iniquity that he hath committed he shall die," Ëzek. iii. xviii. xxxiii. 12, i;{. Sucli is the morality of our Scriptures. Such is the vocation of the faith- ful. It is not enough that we koej), for a few years, the Cdinmandments of God; we must continue to keep them. It is not enough that wc triumph for awhile over the old man, we must triuni|)h to tiie end; and if wo have wan- dered by weakness for a season, we must stead- fastly return to piety and religion. 2. Consider on what principle the Scripture characters founded their assurance of salvation. Was it on some speculative notions? On some confused systems? No: it has been on the princijile of persevering in the profession of their religion, and in the practice of virtue. I will adduce but one example, which seems to me above all exception: it is he, who, of all the sacred authors, has furnished us witii the most conclusive arguments on the doctrine of assu- rance of salvation, and the inamissibility of grace; I would say, the example of St. Paul. He never doubted but that he siiould always persevere in piety, and in the profession of re- ligion. The love of God was so deeply rooted in tlie heart of tiiis apostle, as to remove all scruple on that head. When, however, St. Paul, by abstraction of mind, considered him» self as having lost the disposition which, we shall call the habit of Christianity;— .v hen be considered himself as falling under the temp- tations which expo.scd him to the flesh, to hell, and the world; — what did he expect consider- ing his state in this point of view? What did he expect after the acquisition of so much know- ledge; after preaching so many excellent ser- mons; after writing bo many excellent and catholic epi-stles; after working so many mira- cles; after achieving so many labours; after en- countering so many dangers; after enduring so many sutlerings to exalt the glory of Christ; after setting so high an example to the church.' What did he expect after all this? Paradise.' The crown of righteousness? No: he expected hell and damnation. Did he expect that his past virtues would obtain the remission of his present defects? No: he expected that his past virtues would aggravate his [jresent faults. " I count not myself to have apprehended," Phil, iii. 13. "Hut I keep under my body, and bring it into subjection, lest that by any means, when I have preaclied unto others, I myself should be a cast-away," 1 Cor. ix. 27. In what situation did he place himself to lay hold of the crown of righteousness, and to obtain the prize? He i)laced himself at the close of his course. It was at the termination of life, that tins athletic man exclaimed, " I have fought a good fight, I have finished my course, I have kejit the faith; heiiccilbrth there is laid up for nil! a crown of riglilenusness," 2 Tim. iv. 7, 8. 3. Consider what have been the sentiments of the most distinguished Scripture characters, when they recollect themselves in those awful moments, in which, al"ter they had so far of- fended against divine love as to suppose the habit lost, or when their piety was so for Ser. LXXXIIl ON PERSF-VERANCE. 275 eclipsed as to suppose it was vanished. Did they oppose their past virtues to their present faults? Hear tiiose holy men: " O Lord, iieal ine; for my hones are vexed: my soul is also sore vexed," Ps. vi. 2. "Mine iniijuities are gone over my head, as a heavy burden: they are too heavy for me," Ps. xxxviii. " I ac- knowledjre my transgression, and my sin is ever before me," Ps. li. 3 — 1 1. " Make me to hear joy and gladness, that the bones which thou hast broken may rejoice. Cast me not away from thy presence; restore me unto tlie joy of thy salvation. Will the Lord cast off for ever? And will he be favourable no more? Is his mercy clean gone for ever? Dotli his promise fail for evermore? Hatii God fitigot- tea to be gracious? Hatii he in anger shut up Itis tender mercies!" Ps. l.\x. 8 — 10. VVluit idea-s do these words excite in your minds? Is it the presumptuous confidence whicli some men, unhappily called Christians, evince after committing tlie foulest offences? Are these the sentiments merely of an individual, who by a simple emotion of generosity and gratitude, re- proaches himself for having insulted his bene- factor? Or are they sorrows arising in the soul from the fears of being deprived of tiiose fa- vours in future? Magnanimous sentiments, doubtless are found in the characters of those distinguished saints. A repentance, founded solely on the fear of hell, can never obtain a pardon: it may do well enough for a disciple of Loyola; but not for a disciple of Jesus Christ. It is respect for order; it is the love of God; it is sorrow for having offended a be- ing we sincerely love, which is the basis of true repentance. It is fully apparent tliat the ex- pressions you have heard, are the language of a soul persuaded of this truth, that we cannot obtain salvation without persevering till death in the habit of holiness, which it fears to have lost. They are the language of a soul, which reproaches itself, not only for a deviation from order, but whicli fears, lest it should have for- feited its salvation. 4. Consider the absurdities, arising from the opinion we attack. The commenc<;nicnt of a life, sincerely consecrated to tlie service of God, is a sufficient barrier against all the fears aris- ing from crimes with which it may in the issue be defiled. The children of God can never fall from grace. And none but the children of God can be sincerely consecrated to him in the early period of life. On tiiis principle, I will frame you a system of religion the most relaxed, accommodating, and easy, even at tlie bar of corruption the most obstinate and inveterate. Consecrate sincerely to God a sin- gle hour of life. Distinguish by some virtue the sincerity of that early period. Then write with a pen of iron on a tablet of marble and brass, that. In such a day, and in such an hour, I had the marks of a true child of God. After that, plunge headlong into vice; run un- bridled with the children of this world to the same excess of riot: give yourself no concern about your passions; if the horrors of this state should excite any doubts of your salva- tion, comfort yourself against the anaiheinas ! of legal preachers; comfort yourself against remorse of conscience, by casting your eves on this tablet of brass and marble; — monuments of the inamissibility of your faith, and sure pledges of your salvation. Rut, my brethren, was this indeed the system of those saints of whom we have spoken? They were not more convinced of this priiici|)lo, tliat a sincerely good man camiot fall from grace, than of this which fol- lows: that a man who carmot fall from grace, cannot fall from piety. They have trembled on doing an action contrary to piety; fearing lest tlie habit was lost. h. In a word, our last ])roof of the neces- sity of perseverance is founded on the neces.sity of progressive religion. It is a proposition al- ready established on other occasions, that there is no precise (toint of virtue, at which we are allowed to stop. If a man should take for his model one of the faithful, whose piety is least of all suspected: if a inaii should propose to himself so fine a model, and there restrict his attainment, saying, / i/;i// go so far, and no further: such a one would have mistaken no- tions of religion. The Christian model is Je- sus Christ. Perfection is the sole object of a Christian; and, the weaker he feels himself in its acquisition, the more should he redouble his exertions to approach it. Every period of life has its task assigned. The duties of vouth will not dispense with those of riper age; and the duties of ripier age will not dispense with those of retiring life. " Be ye perfect as your Father who is in heaven is perfect," Matt. v. 18. This is the command of Jesus Christ. " Be perfect," 2 Cor. xiii. II. This is the pre- cept of St. Paul. What do you infer from this principle? If we are condemned for not hav- ing advanced, what sliall we be for having backslidden? If we are condemned for not having carried virtuous attainments to a more eminent degree, what shall we be for having de- based them to a degree so far below the standard? III. But a doctrine of our churches seems to frustrate all our endeavours to prompt you to perseverance, and to warn you that salvation is reserved solely for those who do persevere. It is this. We fully believe, that the most il- lustrious saints were guilty of offences, direct- ly opposed to Christianity; but we profess to believe, that it was impossible thej- should lose the habit. We conceive indeed the propriety of exhorting them not to commit those faults which it is impossible they should commit. But why exhort them not to lose a habit which they cannot lose? Where is the propriety of alarming them with a destruction on the brink of which grace shall make them perfect' Thii is the difliculty we wish to solve; and this is the design of our third head. But I would indeed wish to illustrate th« subject without reviving the controversies it has excited. I would wish conformably to the views of a Christian (from which especially a gospel minister should never deviate,) to asso- ciate as far as the subject will admit, peace and truth. If the wish is not chimerical, we cannot, I think, better succeed, than bv avail- ing ourselves of a point unanimously allowed by the divines divided on this subject, in order to harmonize what seems calculated still to di- vide them. It is a received maxim in every system, I would say, in every system of those who are divided on the doctrine of the inamissibilily of 276 ON PERSEVERANCE. [Ser. Lxxxn. grace; that, to preserve the habit of holiness, without which they unanimously agree, we cannot be saved, we must use all the means prescribed in the sacred Scripture to preserve so valuable a disposition. Divines, whom dif- ference of opinion has irritated against one another, reciprocally accuse their brethren of weakening this principle; but there is not one among them who docs not sincerely embrace it, and complain of the reproach, when charged with having rejected it. Those who exclaim against the doctrine of the inamissibility of grace, are bo far from rejecting it, that they pretend to bo the only persons who establish it upon a sure foundation; and maintain that it cannot exist in systems opposed to the first. They say, that the doctrine of the inamissibili- ty of grace is so far from opposing this princi- ple, that it constitutes its foundation. And who among the advocates for this doctrine, Jver affirmed that we can preserve the grace of perseverance, if we frequent the haunts of infamy; if we keep company with persons who tempt us to adultery and voluptuousness, and 80 with regard to other virtues? This then is a principle such as I would seek. It is a prin- ciple inculcated by every system, that in order to retain the habit of holiness, without which it is impossible to be saved, we must use all the means pointed out in the sacred Scriptures for the preservation of such an individual tem- per of mind. This being granted, it is requisite in every system, to represent the calamities we incur by losing the habit of holiness, because it is the dread of incurring the calamities conse- quent on our fall, which the Scriptures point out as the most usual and powerful preserva- tives from apostacy. Hence they exhort us to " work out our salvation with fear and trem- bling." Hence they make one part of a good man's happiness to consist in fearing always. Hence they require us to rejoice with trembling. Each of you may collect a variety of parallel Our divines, to illustrate this subject, have sometimes employed a comparison, which, in my opinion, is well calculated to answer their purpose. It is that of a wise man at the top of a tower, who has all the necessary means of preserving himself from falling into the abyss open to his view. We may properly say, it is impossible such a man should fall. Why? Because, being a prudent man, and having all the necessary means, it is im|)ossi- ble his prudence should not |)rompt him to avail himself of their support. But in what consists one part of this means of safety? It ia the faculty suggested by his prudence, of knowing, and never forgetting the risk he runs, should he neglect the means of safety. Thus fear, bo circumstanced, is one i)art of his safety, and his safety is inseparable from his fear. The application of this comparison is easy; every one may make it without difficulty'. It is sufficient, not indeed to remove all the difficulties of which the Idss of grace is suscep- tible; but to answer the ol)jeclioii I liavo made of its being useless, on a supposition of the impossibility of falling from grace, to warn a real Christian of the calamities he may incur, ■bould he lose his habit of piety. IV. Three classes of people have conse- quences to deduce from the doctrine we have now advanced. We first address ourselves to those who seem least of all interested; I would say, those who have no cause to fear falling from grace; not because they are established, but because they never entertained the sincere resolutions of conversion. If people of this description would pay serious attention to their state; if they would read the Scriptures with recollection; if they would listen to our ser- mons with a real, not a vague and superficial design of reducing them to practice, I think the doctrine we have delivered would rouse them from their indolence; I think it would hinder them from going so intensely into the world, on withdrawing from devotion, as not to hear the voice of their conscience. What! the people of whom we speak should say, What! Christians of the first class; what! those distinguished saints who have devoted the whole of their life to duty; what! those who have " wrought out their salvation with fear and trembling;" can they promise themselves nothing from past efforts? What! are all the sacrifices they have made for Christianity use- less, unless they persevere in piety; and, for having failed to run only a few steps of their course, will they fail of obtaining the prize promised to those only who finish the whole? And I, miserable wretch, who am so far from being the first of saints, that I am the chief of sinners; — I, who am so far from having run the race which Christ has set before his disci- ples, as to have put it far away; — I, who have been so far from working out my salvation, as to have laboured only by slander, by calumny, by perjury, by blasphemy, by fornication, by adultery, by drunkenness; — I, who have done nothing but obstruct the work, yet I am com- posed, I am tranquil! Whence proceeds this peace? Does it not proceed solely from this circumstance, that, my sins having constrained the Deity to prepare the sentence of my eter- nal condemnation, he has (among the calami- ties prepared for me by his justice,) the fatal condescension to make me become sensible of my misery, lest I should anticipate my condem- nation, by the dreadful torments which the certainty of being damned would e.xcite in my soul. Oh, dreadful calm! faUl peace! tran- quillity to which despair itself is perferable, if there be any thing preferable in despair! Oh! rather, thou sword of divine vengeance, bran- dish before my eyes all thy terrors! Array in battle against mo all the terrors of the mighty God, as in the awful day of judgment; and striking my soul with the greatness of my misery, give me, at least, if there be time, to emancipate myself ! If there be yet time? And, if there be not time, why do you yet breatha' Why are there still open to you the gates of this temple? Why is the gospel still preached, if it is not that you may be recollected; if it is not tiiat you may renounce the principles of your past folly; if it is not that you may yield to calls of grace, which publish to you the consoling declarations of the merciful God? " When I say unto the wicked. Thou shalt surely die; if he turn from his sin, and do that which is lawful and right; if the wicked re- store the pledge, give again that he hath Skr. LXXXIl.] ON PERSEVERANCE. 277 robbed, walk in the statutes of life witliout committinjr iniquity, ho shall surely live, he «hall not die. None of his sins that he lialh committed, shall be mentioned unto him," Ezek. xxxiii. 14—16. A second sort of people, who ought to de- rive serious instruction from tlie words of my text, is tliose visionaries; who, while engaged in the habit of hating their neighbours, of for- nication, of revenge, or in one or tiie otlier of those vices, of which the Scripture says, " they that do such things shall not inherit tlie king- dom of God," fancy themselves to be in a state of grace, and believe they shall ever abide in that state, provided they never doubt of tiie work. People of this character, — wiiether it be that they have fallen into the hands of An- tinomian guides, one of the greatest plagues with which justice punishes the crimes of men, and one of the most awful pests of the church; or whether it be the ett'ect of those passions, which, in general, so fascinate the mind, as to prevent their seeing the most evident truths •opposed to their system; but people of this class presumptuously apply to themselves the erfe( tion, and repair, by revigoratcd efforts of virtue, what- ever faults one may have committed against virtue, is the line of life prcs(!rii)cd by religion. And who so far dejuaved, as not to admire it? But who is so virtuous as to follow it, or even to believe that it can be followed? We look upon it, for the most part, as wo do the notions of an ancient philosopher respecting govern- ment. The |)rincii)les, on which he established his system of j)olilics, have appeared admira- ble, and the consequences he has deduced, have appeared like streams j)ure as their source. God, in creating men, says this philosopher, gave them all means of preservation from the miseries which seem appendant to their condi- tion: and they have but themselves to blame if they neglected to profit by them. His bounty has supplied them with resources, to terminate the evils into which they full by choice. Let them return to the j)ractice of truth and virtue, from which they have deviated, and they shall find that felicity to which nolhing but virtue and truth can conduct society. Let the states elect a sovereign like the God who governed in the age of innocence; let them obey the laws of God. Let kings and subjects enter into the same views of making each other mu- tually happy. Tlie whole world has admired this fine notion; but they have only admired it: and regard it merely as a system. The princes and the people, to whom this philoso- pher wrote, are as yet unborn; hence we com- monly say, the republic of Plato, when we wish to express a beautiful chimera. I blush to avow it, but truth extorts it from me, that this is the notion most men entertain of religion. They make its very beauty an argument for its neglect, and their own weakness an apology for the repugnance they feel in submitting to its laws: this is precisely the temper we pro- pose to attack. We will prove, by evident facts, and by experience, which is consequently above all exception, that however elevated above the condition of man the scheme of re- ligion may appear, it is a scheme which may be followed, seeing it has been followed al- ready. To this point we shall direct the subsequent part of our discourse on the text we have read. VVe have divided it into three parts; — distin- guished duties, — excellent models, — and wise precautions. Of distinguished duties, " let us run with patience the race that is set before us," we have treated in our first discourse. Of wise precautions, " let us lay aside every weight, and the sin which doth so easily beset ns," we hope to treat in a succeeding sermon. Of excellent models, "seeing we also are com- j)assed about with so great a cloud of witness- es," we shall speak to-day. Happy, if struck with so many heroic actions, about to be set before your eyes, you may bo led to follow them, and to augment this cloud of witnesses, of whom tile Holy Sjjirit himself has not dis- dained to make the eulogium. Happy, if we may say of you, as we now say of tiiem, by faith they repelled the wisdom of this world; by faith they triumphed over the charms of roncupiscence; by faith they endured the most cruel torments; by faith they coiKjucred the coicstial Jerusalem, wiiich was the vast reward of all their conflicts. Amen. " Wherefore, seeing we also are compassed about with so great a cloud of witnesses, let us rim with patience the race which is set before us." What is this cloud, or multitude, of which the apostle speaks? The answer is not equivocal, they are the faithful enumerated in the preceding cliapter. Of what were they Ser. LXXXIII.] ON THE EXAMPLE OF THE SAINTS. 279 witnesses? Of that important trulli, with which ho would impress the minds of tiio He- brews, and wiiich alone was capable of sup- porting the expectation of martyrdom, that God " is the rewarder of all them that dili- gently seek him;" that liow great soever the sacrifices may be wo make for liini, we shall be annply reconipcnsud by his equity, or by his love: the faithful have witnessed this, not only by their professions, but by their conduct; some by sacrifices which cost the most to Hesh and blood; some by abandoning their riches; others by devoting their lives. Hai)j)ily this eleventh chapter of the Epistle to the He- brews, is clearly known even to the less in- structed of our hearers; this may supply our weakness, and the brevity of these exercises in making an analysis. We shall however run over it, remarking whatever may most contri- bute to illustrate the subject. The first thing which not a little surprises us, is, that St. Taul has equally brought to- gether, as models, men who seem to have been not only of very different, but of very oppo- site conduct. How could he class Samson, the slave of a prostitute: how could he class Ilahab, of whom it is doubtful at least, whe- ther she did not practice the most infamous of all professions: how could he put those two persons on a parallel with Joseph, who has been held up to all ages, not only as a model, but as the martyr for chastity? How could he place Jepthah, the oppressor of Ephraim, whom we deem worthy of censure for the most distinguished action of all his life; I would say the devotion of his only daughter, whetlier in sacrifice or celibacy, a question not to be ex- amined here; how could he class this man in a rank with Abraham, who was ready to immo- late his son at the divine command; with Abraham the most humane of conquerors, who made this magnanimous reply to the officers of an alliance he had received, " I have lift up my hand unto the Lord, the most high God, the possessor of heaven and earth, that I will not take from thee a tliread even to a shoe-latchet, and I will not take any thing that is thine, lest thou shouldest say, I have made Abraham rich?" Gen. xiv. 22, 23. How could he put Gideon, who availed himself of the spoils of Midian by the supernatural aids of Heaven, to make an ephod, and to turn away the Israelites from the worship of the true God, on a scale with Moses, who " pre- ferred affliction with the people of God, to the pleasures of sin which are but for a season?" Heb. xi. 25. I have too much reason to be convinced, that many of my hearers would wish to follow models of this description. I have too much reason to be convinced, that many would delight in a faith like that of Samson, like that of Jepthah, like that of Gideon. Witiiout adopting or rejecting the solutions usually given of this dilliculty, here is what may be replied. You should keep in view, the design of St. Paul in placing this group of personages be- fore the Hebrews. He would animate them with that faith, which as we expressed our- selves relying on tiie apostle's principles} that faith which persuades us, that how great so- ever the sacrifices may be we make for God, we shall be rewarded by his equity, or by his love. Faith thus taken in its vaguest and most extended view, ought to be restricted to those particular circumstances in which it was exercised, and according to the particular kind of promises which it embraced, or, not losing sigiit of obedience, in regard to those particu- lar kinds of sacrifice which God retjuircs us to make. One man is called to march at Uie head of armies to defend an oppressed nation. God promises to reward bin courage with vic- tory. The man believes, he fights, ho con- quers. The object of his faith in this particu- lar circumstance, is the promise I have men- tioned; I am right then in defining faith as St. Paul, when he says, "Faith is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen," Heb. xi. 1. It is that disposition of heart, in ap|)roaching God, which enables u» to believe, that he " is the rewarder of them that diligently seek him." By faith the man of whom I spoke obtained the victory. But I will adduce the case of another, call- ed to suffer martyrdom for religion The par- ticular objects of his faith in the case I have supposed, are the promises of salvation. I am right in defining faith as it is defined by St. Paul, when he says, " Faith is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen." It is that disposition of mind which enables him in approaching God, to believe that " he is the rewarder of all them that dili- gently seek him." By faith the man of whom I spoke obtained salvation. You perceive, I flatter myself, in the first case I have adduced, that if the general per- suasion this man had, that God " is the re- warder of all them that diligently seek him," did not embrace for its object all the promises of salvation, nor induce him to make all the sacrifices his salvation required; he is worthy however of imitation in this instance, his faith having embraced the particular promise which had been given him: and it is evident, if I do not know any thing of this man's life, except that his faith having been sufficiently strong for a particular sacrifice, I may presume what I cannot prove, it w-ould have been adequate for every other sacrifice required by his salva- tion. The doctrine discussed being considered, not only obviates the difficulty proposed, but satis- fies the scruple which may be made concern- ing some of the saints whose example is pro- posed as a pattern by St. Paul. Do you ask, why St. Paul arranges in the same class, and proposes as equal models, per- sonages so distinguished by virtue, and others by vice? I answer, that whatever distance there might have been between the difierent personages, they are all worthy of imitation in regard to what is excellent in those instan- ces to which the apostle refers. But if you ask whether the faith which in- duced Samson, Jepthah, and Gideon^ to make some particular sacrifices for God, prompted them to make every sacrifice which their sal- vation required? we answer, that whatever fa- vourable presumption charity ought to inspire, no man is authorised to answer the question in the affirmative; for seeing some are found who have performed the first miracles of faith 280 ON THE EXAMPLE OF THE SAINTS. (Ser. LXXXIM. without performing the second, we ouglit not to be confident that those doubtful charactera performed liie second because tliey ably per- formed tiie first. But if you exclaim against this opinion, I will add, not only that Jesus C'iirist has af- firmed he will say to many in the great day, who had miraculous faith, " 1 know you not;" but we have proof that many of those, whose example the apostle has adduced in the ele- venth chapter of the e|)istle to tiie Hebrews, were detestable characters, notwithstanding their endowment of miraculous faitli. Here is our proof; St. Paul has arranged in the cla.^s of those whose faith he extols, all the Israel- ites who passed tlirough llie Red Sea. Now, it is evident that a vast proportion of these were detestable men; then, draw yourselves the consequence. And here you have the rea- son of St. Paul's having happily proposed to the Hebrews, the examples of the miracles achieved by the faith of those whom I call doubtful characters. Those miracles were ad- mirably calculated to encourage the minds of the Hebrews, and to Imbolden their purposes | of making distinguished sacrifices for religion: but you have the reason, also, of his not being satisfied with merely setting before them those examples. You have the reason of his not being satisfied with setting before him the ex- ample of a faith, concerning which the Scrip- tures are silent, if it had only particular promi- ses for its object; he sets before them the ex- ample of those saints, whose faith had parti- cularly in view the promises of eternal felici- ty. But were there, indeed, among tliose saints enumerated by the apostle, men, whose faith had, for its object, the promises of eter- nal felicity? Did the obscurity of the dispen- sation, in which they lived, permit them to pierce the veil which still concealed from their view a happier life than what they enjoyed on earth? Let us not doubt it, my brethren: to avoid one extreme, let us not fall into the op- posite one. St. Paul lias proved it, not only by his own authority, but also by the nature of the case, and by the testimony of the Jews of his own age. From the example of the patriarchs, he ad- duces, first, that of Abel. An ancient tradi- tion of the Jews informs us, that the subject of dispute, between him and Cain, turned on the doctrine of future rewards. Cain main- tained that none were to be expected in a fu- ture life; Abel supported the contrary propo- sition. The former of those brothers supplied argument by violence; unable to convince Abel, he assassinated him. It is from this tradition that some of our learned think wc ought to understand those words of the apostle, " who being dead yet speakcth." They translate, " We have still extant a tradition, that he died for his faith; namely, tlic doctrine of a future itatc." He cites the example of Enoch, who was so powerfully per.suaded of a life to come, as to obtain a translation, excmi)ting hini from the painful path which olliors must travel to glo- ry; I would say, from tasting the horrors of death. He adduces the example of Noah, who not only escaped the calamities of the deluge, but " became heir of the righteousness which is by faith." What is this " heritage of righteous- ness by faith." It is, according to the style of the sacred authors, eternal life. Hence the many parallel explications we find in other pla- ce»; as in the first chapter of this epistle. " Are not the angels all ministering spirits, sent forth to minister to them who shall be heirs of salvation.'" That, also, in the second chapter of the catholic Epistle of St. James, " God hath chosen the poor of this world to be heirs of the kingdom, which he hath pro mised to them that love him." He farther alleges the example of Abraham, of Isaac, of Jacob, and of Joseph. The confi- dence which the patriarchs reposed in the pro- mise of an earthly Canaan, proves that they expected a heavenly inheritance; because they continued faithful followers of God, though they never inherited the terrestrial country, which was apparently promised to them, but continued to be " strangers and sojourners." "I am," says Abraham to the Egyptians, "a stranger among you." And Jacob to Pharaoh, " The days of my pilgrimage," — or the time of my life, during which period I have been a stranger and a sojourner:—" the days of my pil- grimage are not equal to those of my fathers." St. Paul's remark on these expressions of the patriarchs is worthy of regard. " They that say such things declare plainly that they seek a country. And truly, if they had been mindful of that country from whence they come out, they might have had opportunity to have re- turned; but now they seek a better country; that is, an heavenly," Heb. xi. 14 — 16. That is to say, those holy men could but consider two sorts of countries as their own, either the land of their fathers, or the land of Canaan, of which God had promised to give them possession. They had not this notion of the land of C3anaan, seeing they considered themselves as "stran- gers and sojourners;" — seeing that Abraham there possessed only so much land as was suffi- cient for a sepulchre; — seeing Joseph's sole hap- piness, in this view, was to command his chil- dren to carry up his bones, when they went to possess it. They could no longer consider Chal- dea, in which their fathers were born, as their country: in that case, they would have returned on finding themselves strangers in the land of Canaan. Hence it is evident from their con- duct, that they still sought their country; a country better than their fathers', and a better than their children expected to possess; " They showed that they expected a better, that is, an heavenly habitation." St. Paul adduces to the Hebrews the example of Moses: for if the iaith of Moses merely re- spected terrestrial glory, why should he (as the Jews say) have cast to the ground, and tram- pled on the crown that Thermutis had placed on his head? Why should he on coming to years, as says the ajmstlo, have " refused to be called the son of Pharaoh's daughter." He far- ther, according to the same epistle, " esteemed the reproach of Christ greater riches than the treasures of Egypt. Tiiis expression may be taken in a double sense. By " the reproach of Christ," we may understand the cross he so frequently mculcated on his disciples. By the reproach of Christ, we may likewise understand Ser. LXXXIII.] ON THE EXAMPLE OF THE SAINTS. 281 the bondage which oppressed the Jews in llie time of Moses. The word Christ, signifies anointed, and men favoured of God are fre- <]uently called his aiictintcd, becduse of the grace they had received; of which the liolyoil, poured on some extraordinary personages by his com- mand, was a figure. So God has said by the psalmist, " Touch not mine anointed, and do my projjhets no harm," Ps. cv. 15. So tiie prophet Habakkuk, " Thou wentest forlli for the salvation of thy people, even for salvation with thine anointed," Hab. iii. 13. Which sense soever we may adopt, the alliictions of Moses prove, according to St. Paul, " that he liad respect unto the recompense of the re- ward," Heb. xi. 26. As no motive but the hoi)e of glory can induce Christians to bear tiie re- proach of Christ their head; so no other consi- deration could have induced a preference in Moses, of the sufferings of tlio Israelites to the enjoyments of a crown. In short, St. Paul adduces to the Hebrews a great number of martyrs, who sacrificed their lives for their religion. In this class is the ve- nerable Eleazar; wlio died under the strokes of his executioners, 2 Maccab. vi. It is probably in allusion to this case when the apostle says, " they were tortured." The Greek word sig- nifies they were extended in torture; and it is designed to express the situation of persons exe- cuted in this cruel way. In this cla.ss is Zccha- riah, who was slain between the temple and the altar, by the command of Joash. To him tiie apostle properly alludes when he says, " tiiey were stoned." In this class is Isaiah, whom Manasseh executed with a saw, if we may credit an apocryphal book quoted by Origen. To him the apostle probably alludes when he says, " they were sawn asunder." In this class were Micah, John the Baptist, and St. James, since the time of the Maccabees. In all probability the apostle had them in view when he says, " they were slain with tlie sword." This is sufficient to illustrate what St. Paul has said in the chapter preceding our text, respecting the faithful, whom he adduces as models. It is evident, that those illustrious examples were ad- mirably calculated to make deep impressions on the minds of the Hebrews, and to animate them to sacrifice their lives for their religion, if called to suffer. But I would improve the precious moments of attention you may yet deign to give, having destined them to Investigate the impression, which the examples of those illus- trious saints nuist naturally make on our minds, and to press the exhortation. " Wherctore, seeing we also are compassed about with so great a cloud of witnesses, let us run with pa- tience the race that is sot before us." I have too high an opinion of my hearers, not to persuade myself, that they cannot contem- plate those illustrious models, without corres- ponding impressions; but I think enough has been said to force nn objection which most of you will make, should I devote the rest of tlie hour to enforce those high examples. You will Say, they are fine examjiies; but too high for our imitation. The personages, from wiiom they arc derived, were cxtiaordiiuirv men, with whom we have no claims of competition. Tfuy were saints, ice are .fiiinow. Hence, the more amiable these examples appear, the less you Vol. IL— 36 conceive yourselves obligated to make them the model of your life. I would wish to go to the source of this evil: hence, instead of confining my^>elf to an eulogiu:ii on those sacred charac- ters, I would prove, that they were men like yiiii, in order that you shall be saints like them. There is between them and you a similarity of nature — a similarity of vocation — a similarity of temptations — a similarity of motives — a si-* milarity of assistance. — The sole difference be- tween you is, that they had a sincere determi- nation to prefer their salvation and duty to every other consideration: whereas wo prefer a thousand and a thousand things to our salvation. This is the awful difference I would now re- move, in order to disclose the perfect parallel between you and those illustrious characters. I. There is between those saints and you a similarity of nature; I would say, they had the same principles of natural depravity. There is, I grant, much confusion respecting certain theo- ries which are termed in tlie schools, Original Sin. It has too often happened, in opposing this doctrine to certain blasphemous objections against the divine justice, that they have strengthened the objections they endeavoured to obviate. On the other hand, it is extremely astonishing that there should be any divines so unacquainted with human nature, as to deny our being all born with those principles of de- pravity. 'I'wo considerations will demonstrate tiie fallacy of tliis notion. 1. Man, circumscribed in knowledge, and exposed to strong contests, which cannot be supported without a vast chain of abstract trullis, is very liable to shrink in the contest. I say not that it is impossible to avoid it; but that he is very liable to shrink. It may be avoided; because, in the warmth of disputation, by an effort of genius, he might possibly turn his views to those arguments which would en- sure his triumph. He is, however, Very liable to shrink; because warm debates engross so large a proportion of the mental capacity, that it is difficult for a man thus prepossessed to pay proper attention to the motives which would enable him to conquer. 2. We are not only all born with a general propensity to vice: but we are all likewise bom witli a propensity to some particular vice. Let a man pay attention to children in the early years of life, and he will be convinced of the fact: he will see that one is bom with a pro- pensity to anger, another to vanity, and so with regard to the other vices. These propensities sometimes proceed from the temperature of our bodies. It is natural, that persons born with a phlegmatic constitution, and whose spirits flow with difficulty, sliould be inclined to insensi- bility, to indolence, and eff*eminacy. It is na- tural also for persons born with a guy and vola- tile temperature, to be inclined to pleasure, and anger. But these dispositions are sometimes found in the essence of the soul. For, why are some men born jealous, and ambitious? Why have they peculiar propensities which have no connexion with the body, if there be not. in the essence of the .soul, principles which impel some to one, and some to another vice? This being granted, I affirm, that there is between those distinguished saints, namely, those venerable personages enumerated bj St. 282 ON THE EXAMPLE OF THE SAINTS. [Ser. LXXXin. Paul in the eleventh chapter of the Epistle to the Hubrews, — that there is, between tliem and us, " a similarity of nature." They liad prin- ciples of depravity in common wilii us. The 8ole difference between them and iis is, that tliey counteracted, and endeavoured ti> eradicate those principles; whereas wc suffer then» to pre- dominate and superadd the force of iiabit to the infirmity of nature. 1. That those distinç^uished men were born with an understaiuiinjr circumscribed as ours, requires no prool'. Kceinij they have resisted the temptations into whicii our limited under- standing has permitted us to fall; it evidently follows, that the difference between them and us is, that when the objects of temptation were presented, tiiey endeavoured to turn, and fix their thoughts on tiie motives which enabled them to triumph; but we suffer tiiose objects entirely to engross the capacity of our souls. 3. Those distinguished men were born, as we are, with certain propensities to some particular vices. There were in the disposition of their bodies, and in the essence of their souls, as in ours, certain seeds, which prompted some to one vice, and some to another. The history of those saints is too concise to state this truth in all its lustre; but it is so far known as to be evi- dent to a certain degree. IMoscs was naturally of an uncouth and warm temper; witness his remonstrances witii God when connnanded to speak to Pharaoh: witness liis indignation wiien he broke botii the tables of the law; and when he struck the rock twice. David was burn willi a lascivious disposition: witness his intercourse with Bathsheba. He was born with a vindic- tive temper: witness the hasty resolution he formed against Nabal, and accompanied with an oath so unbecoming a saint. " So and more also do God unto the enemies of David, if I leave of all that pertainetii unto him by tiie morning light, either man or beast," 1 Sam. XXV. 22. What we have said of David, and of Moses, we might confirm by other saints. Hence, if the love of God was predominant, in the soul of those illustrious saints, over concu- piscence, while concupiscence in us so fre- quently predominates over the love of God: — if they "ran witli i)atienco the race set before them;" whilst we are so frequently iiiterrujitcd in the course: — it was not becau.se those saints were not born with the same principles of de- pravity whicii prompt us to particular sins, but because we abandon ourselves to those princi- ples, and make no efforts to oppose tiiem! whereas they struggled hard lest tliey should commit the crimes, to which they were inclined by nature. H. There is between those illustrious saints and us a smilar'ttii of vocation. Docs this article require proof.' Can you be so little accpiainted with religion, as to suppose that they wire called to make a confiant }»rogrcss in holiness, but that you are called only to a certain degree of virtue? That they were called to give vic- torious effect to the love of God over depravity, and that you are called to jiermit depravity to predominate over the love of God? Thai they were called to a habit, and a constant habit of piety, but that God merely requires y.'ui to do a few virtuous actions, to acquire a temporary habit of holiness, and then allows you to lay it aside? Is not the law equal' Are not you called to he holy as they were holy? Is it not said to you, as well as to them, " Be ye perfect, as your Father which is in heaven is perfect," Matt. V. IH. The abridgement of the law, and the prophets, — is il not of the same force with regard to you, as to them, " Thou shall love the Lord thy (iod with all thy heart, with all thy soul, and with all thy mind?" Matt, x.xii. 31. I am fully aware, that there is a difference between the effects of the love which God re- quires of you, and which he required of them: but that diversity of ellects doe» not suppose any change in the etlicient cause. The efficient cause must be the same, how diversified soever tlie effects may be: and if you are not called to make similar sacrifices, you are called to be ready to do so, should they be required. You are not called, like Abraham, to immolate in sacrifice to God your only son; but you are called to have the same radical attachment and preference, which induced him to sacrifice his son, if required by your maker. And if you have not this profound attachment, or at least, if you do not daily endeavour to obtain it, de- ceive not yourselves, my brethren, you can have no hope of salvation. You are not call- ed, like Moses, to sacrifice a crown for religion, but you are called to have the same preference and esteem for God which he had, provided a crown were oflered. If you have not this pre- lerence of affection; at least, if you do not en- deavour to obtain it, deceive not yourselves, my brethren, yuu can have no hopes of salva- tion. The difference between those illustrious saints and us, is not in the variety of vocation in which Providence has called us, but in the manner of our obedience. They understood their vocation, and were obedient; but we, we overlook it, or take as much pains to disguise it, as they did to know it; and when we are constrained to know it, and our conscience is constrained to discover its duty, wc violate in l)ractice those very ma.vims we have been obliged to acknowledge in theory. 111. Human depravity has not only innume- rable subtleties, but we even urge them. Some- times, in order to excuse our deviations from those illustrious saints, we allege the superiority of their temptations over those, to which Pro- vidence has exposed us; and sometimes, on tlie roulrary, the superiority of their temjitations over those, to which Heaven exposes us, over those to which it exposed them. Be it so; but after you have proved tiiat they did not resist any temptation whicii we would not have resisted had wc been in their situation; I will prove that we are not eijiosed to any such vio- lent temptations over which they have not ob- tained the same victories which are recpiired of us. What are the violent temptations with which you arc captivated, and whose violence you are accustomed to allege, in order to ex- cuse your falls? Are they temptations of poverty? — How dif- ficult is it, when we want means to supply the pressing calls of nature not to bo exercised with anxiety! How difficult is it, when we ex- pect to jierish with hunger, to believe ourselves the favourites of that Providence which "feeds the fowls of heaven, and clothes the lilies of the fields," Matt. vi. 26. 28. And when we Ser. LXXXIII.] ON THE EXAMPLE OF THE SAINTS. 283 are stripped of every comfort, an ordinary con- Bcquence of poverty, to find in communion with God a compensation for tliose base friends who sufl'er us to starve! The saints magnified as models by St. Paul, liave vaiHjuished this temptation. See Job, that iioly man, and onco the riciiest man of all the East, possessing seven thousand sheep, three thousand camels, five hundred yoke of oxen, and servants with- out number: — see himstrippedofalliiis wealth, and sayinfj in that deplorable situation, " Shall wo receive jjood at the hand of the Lord and shall we not receive evil?" .loli ii. Id. "The liord gave, and the Lord hath taken away, hIcHsed be the name of the Lord," .lob i. 21. See David wandering from wilderness to wil- derness, and saying, " When my futlier and mother forsake me, then the Lord will take me up," Ps. xxvii. 10. Are they temptations of prosperity? The temptations of prosperity are incomparably more dangerous than thoso of adversity; at least, the objects of adversity remind us of our indigence and inability; and removing the moans of gratitication, the passions become eilJier i-ub- dued, or restrained and mortified. But pros- perity ever presents us with a ilattcriiig por- trait of ourselves; it pronijits us to aspire at independence, and strengthens all our corrupt propensities by the facility of gratilicatioii. — The saints, proposed as models by the Holy Spirit, have vanquished those temptations. — See Abraham surrounded with riches; behold him ever mindful of that divine injunction, " Walk before me, and be thou perfect," Gen. xvii. \. See Job, — see him ever employing his wealth for him from whom he received it! See him preventing the abuse his children might have made of his opulence, rising early in the morning after their feasts, and offering sacrifice on their account; " It may be," said he, " my sons have sinned, and cursed God in their hearts," Job i. 6. See David on the throne, — see him making a sacred use of his power. " Mine eyes shall be upon the faithful in the land, that they may dwell with me; he that walketli in a perfect way, he shall serve me. I will early destroy all the wicked of the land, that I may cut oft' all tlie wicked doers from the city of the Lord," Ps. ci. 6 — 8. See him laudably employed in resuming those plea- sures of piety retarded by the affairs of state. What he could not do in the vicissitudes of the day, he reserved for the shades of night. Ho contemplated the marvels of his Maker, dis- played by the night. Thus he expressed his «sentiments, " When I consider the heavens, the work of thy fingers, the moon and stars, which thou hast ordained, what is man, that thou art iniiulfiil of him; and the son of man, that thou visitest him.'" Ps. viii. 3, 4. Are they temptations arising from the length of tlie course, which seems to have no end, and which always requires fresh exercise of piety.' It is incomparably more easy to make a liasiy sacrifice for religion, than to do it daily by de- grees. Virtue is animated on great occasions, and collects the whole of its resources and strength; but how few have the resolution to sustain a long career. The saints, whom St. Paul adduces as models, have vanquished this kind of temptation. See Moses, — behold him | for forty tedious years in the wilderness, having to war with nature and the elements, with iiunger and with thirst, with his enemies, and with his own peo[)le; and, what was harder still, having sometimes to contend with God himscdf, who was frequently on the point of exterjiiinating the Israelites, committed to the care of this afflicted leader. But Moses tri- iiniphed over a vast course of difficulties; ever returning to duty, when tiie fijrce of tempta- tion, for the inoinent, had induced him to devi- ate; ever full of affection for that people, and ever em])l(jyiiig in their behalf, the influence he had over the bowels of a compassionate God. Arc there temptations arising from persecu- tion? — Nature shrinks not only at the idea of suffering, but also at the ingenious means which oxecutiiiiiers have invented to extort abnega- tions. The saints, whom St. Paul adduces as models, have van()uisli(!(l this class of tempta- tions. Look only at the conduct of tliose noble martyrs, to w'hom he is desirous of calling the attention of the Hebrews. Look at the tragic but instructive history of that family, mention- ed in the seventh chapter of the second Book of Maccabees. The barbarous Antioch, says the historian, seized on a mother and her seven sons, and resolved, by whips and scourges, to force them to eat swine's flesh. The eldest of the seven boldly asserted his readiness to die for his religion. Tlie king, enraged with an- ger, commanded the iron-pans, and brazen chaldrons, to be healed, and him who first spake to be flayed alive; his tongue cut out; the extremities of his limbs to be cut ofT, in presence of his mother and brethren; and his body to be roasted while yet alive, in one of the burning pans. O my God! what a sight for the persons so tenderly united to this mar- tyr! But this scene, very far from shaking their constancy, contributed to its support. They animated one another to an heroic death; af- firming that God would sustain their minds, and assuage their anguish. The second of those brothers, the third, the fourth, the fifth, and sixth, sustained the .same sufferings, and with the same support, in presence of their motlier. What idea do you form of this woman, you timorous mothers, who hear me to-day? In what language, think you, did she address her sons? Do you think that nature triumphed over grace; that, after having otTered to God six of her sons, she made efforts, at least to save the seventh, that he might afford her con- solation for the loss sustained in the other si.x.' No, says the historian, she exhorted him to die like a martyr: Antioch compelled her to pre- sent the seventh that she might prevent his death. But she said, "O my son, have pity upon me, that bare thee nine months in my womb, and gave thee suck three years, and nourished thee, and brought thee up unto this age, and endured the troubles of education. I beseech thee, my .son, look upon the heaven and the earth, and all that is therein, and know the author of thy being. Fear not this tor- mentor; but, being worthy of thy brethren, take thy death, that I may receive thee again, in mercy with thy bretJiren." Perhaps the liistorian has embellished his heroes; perhaps he has been more ambitious to astonish than to instruct; and to flatter the por- 284 ON THE EXAMPLE OF THE SAINTS. [Ser. Lxxxm. trait, than to paint the original. Tho history of our own age confirms the past age; the his- torj' of our own tyranls, substantiates all that is said of liie Jcwisit tyrants: and the constancy of our modern Maccabees, is a sure test of what is said concerning tiie constancy of the ancient Maccabees. What has been the seed of the reformed ciiurch? It is the blood of the reformers, and of tiie first reformed. Wliat was the rise of this republic? It was the light of fagots kindled to consume it. Inhabitants of these provinces, w hat were your ancestors.' Confessors and martyrs. And you, my dear fellow-countrymen, wlience are you come? "Out of great tribulation." What are you? " Brands plucked from the burning." Fathers, who have seen their cliildron die for religion; children who have seen tiieir fathers die for re- ligion. O that God may forbear hearkening to the voice of so much blood, which cries to rieaven for vengeance on those who shed it! May God, in placing llie crown of righteous- ness on the heads of liiose wiio suffered, pardon those who caused their deatli! May we be, at least, permitted to recount the history of our brethren, who have conquered in the fight; to encourage those who have yet to combat, but who so disgracefully draw back. Ah! genera- tion of confessors and martyrs, would you de- grade the nobility of your descent' Your fa- thers have confessed their religion amid the se- verest tortures: and would you deny in these happy provinces, enlightened by the trutii? Have they sacrificed their lives for religion, and will you refuse to sacrifice a portion of your riches? Ah, my bretiiren, " Seeing we also are compassed about witli so great a cloud of witnesses, let us run with patience the race that is set before us." IV. I have said that there is, between us and those illustrious saints, proposed as models by the Holy Spirit, a s'unilarity of motives. It implies a contradiction, to suppose that tiiey had more powerful motives to animate tliem in their course, ti)an tliose we have proposed to you. Yes, it implies a contradiction, that the Abra- hams, quitting their coinilry, the land of their nativity, and wandering tliey knew not where, in obedience to tiie divine call: — it implies a contradiction, tiiat the Moseses preferred " af- fliction with tlie peo|)le of God, to the pleasures of sin, which arc but fur a season:" — it implies a contradiction, that tiiis multitude of martyrs, some of whom were tormented, olliers were stoned, others were sawn asunder, otiicrs were killed by tlie sword: — it implies a contradiction, that those illustrious saints have beheld, at the close of their course, a more valuable prize than that extended to you. This prize is a blissfi»! immortality. Here the whole advantage is on your side. This prize is jilaced more distinctly in your sight, than it was in liie view of those illustrious characters. This, 1 really think, wa-s Si. Paul's view at the close of the chapter, in which lie enumerates tiic saints, whose vir- tues have formed tiie leading subject of tiiis discourse. " Tli(>s(! all, having obtained a good report through faith, rcceiv(!d not tho promise; God having ijfovided some better things for us, that they, without us, sliould not bo made per- fect." VVhat is implied in their " not having received the promise'" Does it mean that thoy did not know the doctrine of a future state? St. Paul affirms quite the contrary. What is meant by their " not being made perfect with- out us?" Is it as some of the primitive fa- thers, and as some of our modern divines have thought, that the Old Testament saints were not received into heaven till the ascension of Jesus Christ' This is contrary to other pas- sages of our Scriptures. But "they received not the promise," that is to say, with the same clearness as Christians. " They without us were not made perfect;" the perfect knowledge of immortality and life being the peculiar pre- rogative of the Christian church. Whatever be the sense of those words of St. Paul, we will show, that this doctrine of immortality and life is no longer covered with a veil, as it was previously to the introduction of the gospel; but it is demonstrated by a multitude of argu- ments which sound reason, though less im- proved than that of the ancients, enables us to adduce for conviction; and they are placed in evidence by Jesus Christ. Let us introduce this Jesus to you; let us cause you to hear this Jesus animating you by doctrine and example in the course; " Him that overcometh," says he, " will I grant to sit down with me on my throne, even as I also overcame, and am set down with my Father on his throne," Rev. iii. 21. V. The last article, — happily adapted to silence those who avail themselves of the dis- tinguished virtues of those saints for not ac- cepting them as models; or, to conclude in a manner more correspondent to our ministry, an article well calculated to support us in the race God has set before all his saints — is, that between us and those who have finished it with joy, there is asimilarity of assistance. By nature they were like us, incapable of running the race; and by the assistance of grace we become capable of running like them. Let us not im- agine that we honour the deity by making a certain sort of absurd complaints concerning our weakness; let us not ascribe to him what proceeds solely from our corruption: it is in- compatible with his perfections to e.xpose a frail creature to the force of temptation, and e.xhort him to conquer it without aifording the aid » requisite to obtain the victory. Be not dis- T" couraged. Christian champion, at the inequality ' God has made in the proportion of aids afford- ed to them, and to thee; be not discouraged on seeing thyself led by the plain paths of na- ture, while nature was inverted for them; while they walked in the depth of the sea; while they " threw down the walls of Jericho by the sound of rams'-horns, shut the mouths of lions, quenched the violence of the fire, escaped the edge of the sword, waxing valiant in fight, and turning to fight the armies of the aliens." We might perform all those prodigies, and not obtain salvation. Yes, we might put to flight tlie armies of the aliens, display invincible yalour in the warfare, escape the edge of the sword, quench the violence of tho fire, stop the mouths of lions, overturn walls, force a passage through tho sea, and yet be numbered with those to whom Christ will say, " I know you not." And dost thou fear, Christian combat- ant, dost thou fear to attain salvation without those miraculous aids? The requisite assistanco Ser. LXXXIII.] on the example of the SAINt-S. for thy salvation is promised. " The fountain is open to the whole house of David," Zecli. xiii. 1. "Sock, and ye shall find; ask, and Ï0U shall reccivu; knock, and it shall be opened. f you, bcin^ evil, know how to jfive good things unto your children, how much more shall your Father which is in heaven, give his Holy Spirit to them that ask him? If any of you lack wisdom let him ask of Ood tliat givctli to all men liberally, and upi)raidetii not." O! if we knew the value of wisdom! If we knew what miracles of virtue can he wrought by a soul actuated by the Holy Spirit! If we know how to avail ourselves of this promise! Let us, my dear brethren, avail ourselves of it. Let us ask of God those aids, not to Hatter our indolence and vice, but to strengthen us in all our conflicts. Let us say, " Lord, teach my hands to war, and my lingers to fight," Ps. cxliv. Seeing so many enemies combine to detach us from his favour, let us thus invite him to our aid. " Let God arise, let his ene- mies be scattered, let them also that hate him, flee before him." Let us pour into his bosom all those anxieties, which enfeeble the mind. Then he will reply, " My grace is sulHcicnt for thee, my strength shall be made perfect in thy weakness." Then shall all the enemies of our salvation fly, and be confounded before us. Then shall all the difticulties, which discourage us by the way, disappear. Then shall we ex- claim in the midst of conflicts, " Blessed be God, who always causeth us to triumph in Christ." Amen. To hini be honour and glory for ever. Amen. SERMON LXXXIII. ON THE EXAMPLE OF THE SAINTS. PART II. Hebrews xii. L Wherefore, seeing ire also are compassed about with so great a cloud of xritnesses, let us lay aside every weight, and the sin trhich doth so easily beset lis, and let its run icith patience the race that is set before its. We proceed this day, my brethren, to show you the way which leads to the end proposed in our two preceding discourses. The words we have now read for the third time, placed throe things before your view, — distinguished duties, — excellent models, — and wise precau- tions. The distinguished duties are illustrated in the perseverance we pressed in our first dis- course. The excellent models are the saints of the highest order, and, in particular, the " cloud of witnesses with which we are sur- rounded." Of these, St. Paul has made an enumeration and eulogium in the chapter pre- ceding that from which our text is read; and whose virtues we have traced in our l;ist dis- course. But, by what means may we attain an end so noble? By what means may we discharge duties so distinguished, and form our- selves on models so excellent' This shall be the inquiry in our present discourse. It is by *' laying aside every weight, and the sin which doth so easily beset us. — Wherefore, seeing we also are compassed about with so great a cloud 285 of witnes.sc8, let us lay aside every weight, and the sin that doth so easily beset us, and let us run with patience the race that is set be- fore UK." Enter, my brethren, on the consideration of this sui)ject with that sacred dilHdence, with which frail creatures should be actuated on contemplating the difiiculties with which our course is strewed; but enter with all the mag- nanimity with which an idea of the powerful and promised aids should inspire the mind of a Ciiristian. Be impressed witii tiiis thought, and we conjure you to keep it constantly in view during this discourse: that there is no way of running the race like those illustrious cha- racters adduced as models, but by endeavouring to ecpial them in holiness; and that there is no way of e(iualling them in holines.s, but by adopting the precautions of which they availed themselves to attain perfection. Happy those of you, my brethren, infinitely more happy than the tongue of mortals can express, happy those whom this consideration shall save from that wretched state of indolence into which the greatest part of men are plunged, and whom it shall excite to that vigilance and energy of ■ life, which is the great design of Christianity, and the grand characteristic of a christian! Amen. We shall now illustrate the expressions in our text by a few remarks. The first is, that they are figurative. St. Paul represents our Christian vocation by the idea of those races, so ancient and celebrated among the heathen: and pursuing the same thought, he represents the precautions used by athletics to obtain the prize, as those which we must use in order to be crowned. The tceights of flowing robes, such as were once, and such as are still worn by oriental nations, would very much encumber those who ran in the course. Just so, inoidinate cares, I would say, cares concerning temporal things, and criminal purposes, exceedingly encumber those who enter on the course of salvation. I not only allude to criminal purposes (for who can be so ignorant of religion as to deny it,) but also to excessive cares. St. Paul, in my opinion, had this double view. He requires us not only to lay sin aside, but every weight; that is, all those secular aftairs unconnected with our pro- fession. In St. Paul's view, these affairs are to the Christian, what the flowing robes would have been to the athletics of whom we spake. How instructive is this idea! How admirably calculated, if seriously considered, to rectify our notions of morality! I do not wish to make the Christian to become an anchoret. I do not wish to degrade those useful men, whom God seems to have formed to be the soul of society; and of whom we may say in the political world, as St. Paul has said in the ecclesiastical, " I am debtor both to the Greeks and to the Barbari- ans," Rom. i. 14. " Besides those things that are without, that which cometh upon me daily, the care of all the churches," 2 Cor. xi. 2S. On the other hand, we often deceive our- selves with regard to what is called in the world — business! Take an example of a man born with all the uprightness of mind compati- ble with the loss of primitive innocence. While left to the reflection of his own mind in early 286 ON THE EXAMPLE OF THE SAINTS. [Ser. Lxxxra. life, he followed the dictates of reason, and the sentiinrnta of virtue. His mind, undisturbed with the anxieties inseparable f/oin tlie man- agement of a large fortune, apjjlied almost wholly to the study of truth, and tlio practice of virtue. But some olllcious friends, a ])roud and avaricious family, the roots of vanity, and love of e.xterior grandeur, scarcely ever eradi- cated, have induced him to pusii liis fortune, and distinguish himself in the world. He as- pires to civil employment. The solicitations to which he must descend, the intrigues he must manage, the friends with whom he must temporize to obtain it, have suspended his first habits of life. He accomplishes the object of his wishes. The office with which he is in- vested, requires application. Distraction be- comes an indispensable duty. The corruption of his heart, butsliglitly extinguislied, rekindles by so much dissi])ation. After having been some time without the study of truths, once his favourite concern, he becomes habituated not to think of them at all. He loses his re- collection of them. He becomes exhausted in the professional duties he has acquired with so much solicitude. He must have a temporary recess from business. The study of truth, and the practice of viij.ue, should now be resumed. But he must have a little recreation, a little company, a little wine. Meanwhile age ap- proaches, and death is far advanced. But, when is he to enter on the work of salvation? Happy he, my brethren, who seeks no rela- tions in life, than those to which he is called by duty! Happy he, who in retirement, and if you please, in the obscurity of mediocrity, far from grandeur and from courts, makes sal- vation if not his sole, at least his princi|)al con- cern. Excessive cares, as much as criminal pursuits, are weights which retard exceedingly the Christian in his course. " Let us lay aside every weight and the sin that doth so easily beset us, and let us run with patience tiie race that is set before us." This^s St. Paul's idea in the words of my text: and it is the first re- mark requisite for its illustration. The second devolves on the peculiar situa- tion in which the Hebrews were placed, to whom the advice is given. Tiiesc Hebrews, like ourselves, were Christians. They were called, as wc are called, to run the race of vir- tue, without which no man can obtain the prize promised by the gosjiel. in this view, they required the same instructions which are requisite with regard to ourselves. But the Christians, to whom this epistle wjis addressed, lived, as was observed in our first discourse, in an age of persecution. They were daily on tiie eve of martyrdom. It was for this that the apostle prepares them through- out the whole of this epistle. To this he espe- cially disposes them in the words which innne- diately follow those I have discussed. " Con- sider diligently," says he, adducing tiie author and finisher of our faith, who so nobly ran the career of martyrdom; " Consider diligently him that endured such contradiction of siimers against himself, lest ye be weary and faint in your minds. Ye have not yet resisted unto blood, striving against sin," Hub. xii. 3, 4. What does he mean by tlu.'ir not having yet resisted unto blood? Here is still a reference to the games of the heathen: not indeed to the sports of the course, as in the words of my text, but to the cest,* in which the wrestlers sometimes received a mortal blow. And this idea necessarily includes that of martyrdom. But, O! how evasive is the llesh, when placed in those critical circumstances! What excuses will it not make rather than acquiesce in the proposition! Must /die for religion? Must/ be stretched on the rack? Must / be hung in chains on a gibbet' Must / mount a pile of fagots? St. Paul has therefore doubled the idea in my text. He was desirous to strengthen the Hebrews with a twofold class of arguments: viz. those required against the temptations common to all Christians; and those peculiar to the af- flictive circumstances in whici» they were placed by Providence. It was proper to press this double idea. This is our second remark for the illustration of our text. The third turns on the progress the Hebrews had already made in the Christian religion. The nature of this progress determines farther the very character of the advice required, and the precise meaning of those expressions, " Laying aside every weight, and the sin that doth so easily beset us." We never give to a man who has already made a proficiency in an art or science, the instructions wc would give to a pupil. Wc never warn a mariner, who has traversed the seas for many years, not to strike against a rock which lifts its summit to the clouds, and is perceived by all who have eyes. We never caution a soldier, blanched in the service, not to be surprised by ma- nœuvres of an enemy, which might deceive those who are entering on the first campaign. There were men among the Hebrews to whom the apostle wrote, who, according to his own remark, had need to be taught again " the principles of the doctrine of Christ:" that is, the first elements of Christianity. We find many among the catechumens, who, according to an expression he uses, had need of milk, and were unable to digest strong meat, Heb. v. 12. But we ought not to conceive the same idea of all the Hebrews. The progress many of them had made in religion, superseded, with regard to them, the instructions we might give to those entering on the course. 1 cannot think, that those Hebrews, who in former days had been enlightened; — those Hebrews, who had " endured a great fight of afflictions;" — those Hebrews, who, according to the force of the Greek term, used in the tenth chapter of this epistle, " had been exposed on the theatre of the world, by affliction and by becoming a gazing-stock; — those Hebrews, " who had ta- ken joyfully the spoiling of their goods," Heb. xi. 33, 3 1; — I caimot think that they had need of precautions against the gross temptations, by which Satan seduces those who have only an external acquaintance with Christianity. The principal design of the apostle, in the words of my text, is, to fortify them against those subtle snares, and plausible pretences, which sometimes induced Christians to relapse, who seemed the most established. These are * The Ce»lU8 was a Mfcre mode of fightine, in which tlir |>ui;ilisU were arini;J «ilhcr with a cudgel, or with a hM of lead sewed in leather. See Virgil's JEatiait, Book V. See. LXXXIII.] ON THE EXAMPLE OF THE SAINTS. 287 the kind of snares, those are the kind of so- I It was a society to whicli kings were to be the phisms, the apostle apparently liad in view, when he speaks of " weights, and the sin that doth so easily beset us." Thanks be to (iod, my dear brethren, that though we are right, on the one hand, in say- ing that some among you, " have need to be taught again the first j)rinciples of tlic doctrine of Christ; and arc become such as liave need of milk, and not of strong meat," Ileb. v. 12; thanks be to God, that you atl'ord us, on the other hand, the consolation granted to our apostle, of seeing among you cultivated minds, geniuses conversant with the sul)limc myste- ries of Christianity, and witli the severest maxims of morality. Ilcnce I should deem it an injustice to your discernment and know- ledge, if, in the instructions 1 may give to-day, whether for the period of persecution, or for the ordinary conduct of life, I should enlarge on those truths which pro|)erly belong to young converts. What? in a church cherished by God in so dear a manner: what! in a church which enjoys a ministry like yours, is it necessary to affirm, that people are unworthy of the Chris- tian name, when, during the period of i)crse- cution, they anlici|)ate, if I may so speak, every wish of the persecutors, when they carry in their bosoms, formularies wliicli abjure their religion; when they attend all the services of superstition; when they enjoy, in consequence of their apostacy, not only their own property, but the property of those " who have gone with .Jesus Christ without tlie camp, bearing his reproach?" What! in a church like this, would it.be requisite to preach, that men are unworthy of the Christian name, who, in the time of ecclesiastical repose, deliberately live in habits of fornication and adultery; who, in the face of heaven and earth, entice their neighbour's wife, who wallow in wickedness, who are ever disposed either to give or to re- ceive " the wages of unrighteousness?" Oh! my very dear brethren, these are not plausible pre- tences; these are not subtle snares; they are the sensible sophisms, the broad snares which deceive those only who are resolved to be de- ceived. There are, however, subtle snares, which deceive the most estaldisiied Christians. To these the apostle has immediate reference when he exhorts us to " lay aside every weight, and the sin that does so easily beset us." On this shall turn chiefly the explication we shall give of the terms. What are those peculiar kinds of temptation.s? What are the precau- tions we must take to resist them? Tlicse are the two leading subjects of tiiis discourse; to these subjects 1 will venture to solicit the con- tinuation of the attention with which you have designed to favour me. I. Let us begin with the temptations, to which we are exposed in the time of ecclesi- astical tribulation. 1.' The devil would sometimes inspire us with sentiments of unbelief respecting the truth of the promises God has given the church. It nursing-fathers, and queens the nursing-mo- thers. It is a society, whose prosperity should have no end, which should realize this predic- tion: " Lift up your eyes to the heavens, and look upon the earth beneath: for the heavens shall vanish aw.ay like smoke, and the earth shall wax old like a garment; but my salva- tion shall be for ever, and my righteousness shall ncjt be abolished," Isa. li. C. It is a so- ciety, whose prosperity made the prophets ex- claim, " Break forth into joy; sing together ye waste places of Jeru.salem: for the Lord hath comforted his i)eople, he hath redeemed Jeru.salem. The Lord lialli made bare his holy arm in the eyes of all nations, and all the ends of the earth shall see the salvation of our God," Isa. lii. 9, 10. To say all in one word, it is a society built upon the rock, and of which Je- sus Christ has said, " the gates of hell shall not prevail against it," Matt. xvi. 18. What is the conformity between these promises and the event! or if you please, what likeness is there between the portrait and the original! Does not hell prevail against the church, when her enemies exile her pastors, scatter her flock, sui)press her worship, and burn her sanctua- ries? Do all nations see the salvation of God, the arm of tiie Lord made bare, to effectuate distinguished events in behalf of this society; when the} are given up to the fury of their tyrants; when Pilate and Herod are confede- rated to destroy them; when they obtain over them daily new victories? Do the waste places of Jerusalem sing, when the waj's of Zion mourn, "when her priests sigh," and when " her virgins are atHicted?" Does her salvation remain for ever, when the church has scarcely breathed in one place, before she is agitated in another; when she has scarcely survived one calamity, before she is overtaken with ano- ther; wiien the beast causes all, both small and great, rich and j)oor, bond and free, to receive his mark in their hand, or in their forehead.' Rev. xiii. 16. Are kings nursing-fathers to tho church, and queens nursing-mothers, when they snatch the children from her breasts; when they populate the deserts with fugitives; and cause the dead bodies of her witnesses to lie in the streets of the great city, which is called Sodom and Egypt' llev. xi. 8. It is against this first device of Satan, St, Paul would fortify the Hebrews in the words of my text. Hear his admonitions and instruc- tions; have you forgotten the exhortation which speaketh unto you as unto children; my son, despise not tliou the chastemng of the Lord, nor faint wh»n thou art rebuked a( him? For whom the Lord loveth he chasteneth, and scourgeth every so.i whom he receiveth. If ye endure chastening, God dealelh with you as with sons; for whtt son is he, whom the Fa- ther chasteneth not' But if ye be without chastisement, whereof all are partakers, then are ye bastards and not sons," Heb. xii. 5 — 8. I have no neec to arm you with any other seems a difficult task, to reconcile tlie magniti- shield against the sentiments of unbelief, with cenco of those promises with the deluge of ca- which some of you are assailed on viewing the lamities which have inundated it in periods of calamities of the church. Ecclesiastical per- persecution. What is this church, according { seculions are paternal chastisements, which to the prophets? It is a society, which was to God inflicts upon her members. I would ask be completely irradiated with the glory of God. I our brethren, wlw complain of the length of 288 ON THE EXAMPLE OF THE SAINTS. [Ser. LXXXIII, the persecution, and are ever sayinrr, Alas! what, always in exile, always in the galleys? I Would ask them, as they seem astonished, and are bold enough to coinphiin of their dura- tion, whether they have profited by these af- flictions? God, in chastising tiic church, is de- sirous of correcting tiie abuse you have made of prosperity. Have you profited by this chiis- tisemcrit' llave you learned to make a riglit use of prosperity? God, in chastising the cliurch, is desirous to correct the indifférence you have entertained for public worship. Have you pro- fited by this chastisement' Have you learned to sacrifice your dearest interests to attend his worship? And if you have. made those sacri- fices, have you learned to worship with affec- tions correspondent to the sacrifices you have made for him? God, in chastising tiie churcii, is desirous to correct the strong attaclitnent you have conceived for tliis world. Have you profited by this chastisement? Called to choose between riches and salvation, have you ever preferred tlie salvation of your souls, to exte- rior happiness? 2. In the time of tribulation, the devil strongly prompts us to presumption. Here the commands of Jesus Christ are explicit, " When they persecute you in one city, flee to another," Matt. x. 23. The decision of wis- dom is extremely positive; " they who love the danger, shall pcrisli by it," Matt. xxiv. 2. Experience is a convincing test. St. Peter, who presumed to go into the court of Caiaphas, under a pretence of following Jesus, denied !iim there, is not this what we have repre- sented a thousand and a thousand times, to those of our unhappy brethren, wiiom this part of our dis(X)urse particularly respects? We have proved, that we must eitiier leave the places in which the truth is persecuted, or calmly submit to martyrdom. We have made it appear that no man can assure himself of constancy to suffer martyrdom, unsupported by the extraordinary aids of tiie Holy Spirit. We have demonstrated tiiat it is presumption to promise themselves those aids, while they neglect the means offered by Providence to uvoid the danger. They do violence to rea- son. They resist demonstration. They pre- sume on their own strength. Tliey rely whoUy on supernatural ])ower. Tiiey promise themselves a chimerical comjucst. Hence tliose frecjuent abnegations. Hence those awful falls. Hence those scandalous apostacies. 1 have therefore done wrong in placing the tempta- tions of presumption among those subtle snares, those plausible pretences, which impose on the most established Christiani. 1 am mistaken; they are the broadest snires, and grossest sophisms of the enemy of our salvation; and lie is weak indeed, who suj'crs himself to be surprised. What! have you ;)roved your weak- ness a hundred and a hundred times, and do you still talk of [wwcr? What! have you at this day scarcely resolution lo sacrifice a part of your property for religion, and do you j)re- sumo that you can sacrifice your life? What! have you not furlitude to follow .lesus Christ into peaci'lul countries, and do you presume to hope that you can fidlow him to the cross? 3. Those, whom Satan cannot destroy by proBumption, he endeavours, and it is a third snare with which he a.ssailsthe church in tri* bulation, he endeavours, I say, to destroy by distrust. " I am weak," says a man who dis- courages himself by temptations of this na* ture; "I am weak: I shall not have constancy to sustain the miseries inseparably attendant on those who devote themselves to voluntary exile, by going into places where the truth is professed; nor fortitude to endure the tortures infiicted on those who avow it in places where it is persecuted. 1 am weak; I have not courage to lead a languishing life in un- known nations, to beg my bread with my chil- dren, and to hear my poverty sometimes re- proached by those to whom the cause for which I suffer ought to render it venerable. I am weak; I shall never have constancy to endure the stink of dungeons, the weight of the oar, and all the terrific apparatus of martyrdom." You say, I am weak! say rather I am wick- ed, and pronounce upon yourselves beforehand the sentence which the gospel has pronounced against persons of this description. You are weak! But is it not to the weak that are made (provided their intentions are really sincere) the promises of those strong consolations, which enable them to say, " When I am weak, then I am strong," 2 Cor. vii. 10. You are weak! ]'ut is it riot said to the weak, " God is faitiiful, who will not suffer you to be tempt- ed above that ye are able, but will with the temptation also make a way to escape, that ye may be able to bear it? 1 Cor. x. 13. You are weak! Jiut is it not the weak to whom God has realized the truth of his magnificent pro- mises? I will not refer you to those marvellous ages, when men, women, and children, sus- tained the most terrific tortures with a courage more than human. I will not adduce here the example of those saints, enumerated in the chapter, preceding my text; of saints who were stoued, who were killed with the sword, who were tortured, who were fettered, and who displayed more constancy in suffering, than their persecutors and hangmen, in the inflic- tion of torments. But go to those myriads of exiles, who have inundated England, Ger- many, and these provinces, all of whom are protestant nations; those myriads of exiles, " who have gone to Jesus Christ without the camp, bearing liis reproach;" destitute of every earthly comfort, but delighted to have gotten their souls for a prey; were not they by nature weak as you? And, with the assistance of grace, may not you become strong as they? But tliose fathers, but those mothers, who have torn themselves away from their children, and the separation of whom from creatures so dear, seemed as tearing away their own flesh, were they nut by nature weak as you? But those Abrahams, who taking their children by the hand, went in some sort, to sacrifice them to hunger and thirst, to cold and rain; and who rejiliud to the piercing complaints of those in- nocent victims, " The Lord will provide, my children; in the mountain of the Lord it shall be seen," Gen. xxii. 11. But those fathers, those mothers, were they not naturally weak as you.' And with the help of God, may not you become as strong as they? You are weak! But those slaves who have now been thirty years on board the galleys; thotic Rois, those Ses. LXXXIII.] ON THE EXAMPLE OF THE SAINTS. 289 Broussons, those Marolks, and such a multi- tude of our martyrs, who liave scaled tlie evangelical doctrine with their blood, who have ascended the scatiold, not only with re- signation, hut with joy, with trans()ort», with Bongs of triumph, exclaiming, amid their suf- ferings, " I can do all things through Christ which strengtheneth me," I'hil. i. 13. " Thanks be unto God, which always causeth us to triumph in Christ," 2 Cor. ii. 14. " Blessed he the Lord, who teacheth my hands to war, and my fingers to hght," Ps. cxliv. 1. Were not those venerable men naturally weak as you? And with the help of God, may not you be- come strong as they? Are you weak! It is still added, say rather, I am wicked, and blush for your impiety. 4. There are yet more plausible insinuations, and more subtle snares: and conscijueiilly, the more likely to entangle those who arc defec- tive in precautions of defence. The enemy of our salvation sometimes borrows weapons Irom conscience, in order to give it mortal wounds. The advice we give to the persecuted, is that of Jesus Christ; " If any man will come after me, let him take up his cross, and follow me," Matt. xvi. 24. " Come out of Babylon, my people, that ye be not partakers of her sins, and that ye receive not her plagues," Kev. xviii. 4. To this duty, they oppose otlicr duties; and family duties in particular. Wliat would become of my father, should I leave him in his old age? VVhat would become of my children should I forsake them in their in- fancy.' They allege the duties of benevolence. What would become of so many poor people who procure bread in my employment' So many starving families, who subsist on my alms' So many people in perplexity, who are guided by my advice? What would become of these, if, neglecting their happiness, 1 should solely seek my own? They allege the duties of zeal. What would become of religion in this place, in which it was once so flourishing, if all those who know the truth should obey the command, " Come out of Babylon." Let us, my bretliren, unmask this snare of the devil. He places these last duties before your eyes, in order that you may neglect the first, without which all others are detestable in the sight of God our sovereign Judge; who whenever he places us in a situation in which we cannot practise a virtue without commit- ting a crime, prohibits that virtue. God as- sumes to himself the government of the world, and he will not lay it on your shoulders; he still asserts the same language he once ad- dressed to St. Paul, when that prince under the pretence of obedience to a precept, had violated an express prohibition. " Hath the Lord as great delight in burnt-offerings and sacrifices, as in obeying the voice of the Lord? Behold, to obey is better than sacrifice, and to hearken than the fat of rams," 1 Sam. xv. 22. 5. But is it public worsliip; (and this is a fiflh snare, a fifth insinuation; and a fitlh class of those " sins which so easily beset us;") — is it public worship wliich constitutes the essence of religion? Does not true devotion wholly consist in worshipping in Spirit, and in truth? May we not retain religion secretly in our heart, though we apparently suspend the ex- Vol. II.— 37 tcrior service? And though external worship be required, must it always be presented in the presence of a multitude' May not private devotion be a substitute for public worship? And may we not ofler to God in the closet, the devotion which the calamity of the time does not allow us to offer in temples consecrat- ed to his glory, and perform in our families the offices of piety which tyrants prevent our per- forming in immerous assemblies? (1.) I answer; what are the private devo- tions performed in places in which the truth is l)crsccuted'. Kidiculous devotions; many of those who perform them being divided between Christ and Belial, between true and idolatrous adoration. In the morning, before the altar of false gods; in the evening, before the altar of the Supreme Jehovah. In the morning, denying Jesus Christ in public; in the evening confessing him in private. In the morning making a parade of error; in the evening, pre- tending to acknowledge the truth. Devotions in which they are in continual alarms; in which they are obliged to conceal themselves from their enemies, from many of their friends, and to say in secret, who sees me? who hears me? who suspects me? Devotions in which they are afraid of false brethren, afraid of the walls, or afraid of themselves! (2".) The inward disposition, you say consti- tutes the essence of religion. 1 ask, what sort of inward disposition is that of the Christians whom we attack? Show us now, this religion which consists wholly of inward dispositions; this worship in spirit and in truth. What! this gross ignorance a necessary consequence of privation of the ministry, those absurd notions of our mysteries, those vague ideas of morality; is this the inward religion, is this " the wor- ship in spirit and in truth?" What! this ab- horrence they entertain of the communion of the persecutor, who tiioy know scarcely pos- sesses the first principles of the persecuted? Is this the inward religion, is this the " worship in spirit and in truth?" What! this kind of deism, and deism certainly of the worst kind, which we see maintained by the persons in question! Is this the inward religion, is this the " worship in spirit and in truth?" WhatI this tranquillity with which they enjoy not only the riches they have preserved at the ex- pense of their soul; but the riches of these who have sacrificed the whole of their proper- ty for the sake of the gospel? Is this the in- ward religion, is this tiie " worship in spirit and in truth?" What! this participation in the pleasures of the age, at a period when they ought to weep: those frantic joys, if I may so speak, over the ruins of our temples, after re- nouncing the doctrines there professed? Is this the inward religion, is this the " worship in spirit and in truth?" What! those marriages they contract, in which it is stipulated, in case of issue, they shall be baptized by the minis- ters of error, and educated in their religion? Is this the inward religion, is this the " wor- ship in spirit and in truth?" 6. I will add but one illusion more, and that is the illusion of security. If we offend, say the persons we attack; — if we offend in sub- mitting to the pressure of the times, we do it through weakness, and weakness is an object 290 ON THE EXAMPLE OF THE SAINTS. [Ser. LXXXIII of divino clemency. It is not poHsible, that a merciful God, a God who "knows whereof we are made," a God wlio has formed us with the uttailmieiit wo have for our j)ro|>erty, our rela- tives, and our live»; it is not possilile that this God should condemn us to eternal misery, be- cause we have not had the fortitude to sacrifice the whole. A double siiield, my brethren, shall cover you against this temptation, if you have prudence to use it; a double rellection shall de- fend you against this last illusion. First, the positive declarations of our Scrip- tures. God is merciful, it is true; but he is an arbitrator of the terms on whicii his mercy i» offered: or, as it is written, he extends mercy to whom he pleases; and God who extends mercy to whom he pleases, declarer that he will show »o mercy to those who refuse to honour his truth. He declares, that " lie will deny those before his Father, who deny him before men," Matt. X. 33. He declares, that " he who lovctli father or mother more than him, is not vvortiiy of him," Matt. x. 37. He declares, that " tliey who receive the mark of the beast, or worship his image, shall be cast alive into the lake of fire, burning with brimstone," Rev. xi.v. 20. He declares, that he will class in the great day, " the fearful;" that is, those who have not had courage to confess tiieir religion, with the " un- believing," with " the abominable," with " the murderers," with " the whoremongers," with " the sorcerers," with " the idolaters," with "the liars." He declares, that "the fearful shall," in common with others, be cast into the lake which burnetii with fire and brimstone, ■which is the seccjiid death," ilev. .x.xi. 8. The second rellection, which should be a shield for repelling this illusion of tiie devil, arises from the nature of the crime itself, ac- counted a mere infirmity. Four characters con- tribute to the atrocity of a crime. 1. When it is not committed in a moment of surprise, in whicii we are taken unawares. 2. When we persist in it not only for a few hours, or days, but live in it for whole years. 3. When during those years of criminality, we have all the oj>- portunities we could reasonably ask of emanci- pation. 4. When this crime not only captivates the solitary offender, but draws a great number more into the same perdition. These four cha- racters all associate with the crime in question, the crime reckoned a weakness, and obstinately classed among the infirmities of nature. But 1 have not resolution to enlarge upon this subject, and to prove, that our unhappy brethren are in such imminent danger of destruclion. And the expiration of my time is a subordinate induce- ment to proceed to other subjects. II. Were it possible for the discourses intro- duced into this pulpit to be finished pieces, in which we were allowed to exhaust the subjects; were you capable of paying the same attention to exercises, which turn on spiritual subjects, you bestow on business or pleasure, 1 would jire- sent you with a new scheme of arguments; I would reduce, to different classes, the tempta- tions which Satan employs to obstruct you in the course. But we should never promise our- selves the completion of a subject in the scanty limits to which wo are prescribed. I shall take a shorter course, harmonizing the extent and inii>ortaacti of the remaining subject with the brevity of my trmo. I shall proceed to give a portrait of the life common to persona who attain the utmost age God has assigned to man. I shall conduct him from infancy to the close of life, tracing t(j you, in each period it is presumed he shall pass, tiie various temjitations whicli assail him; and by which it is impossible he should fall, if he keep in view the apostle's exhortation, " Let ns lay aside every weight, and the sin which dotii so easily beset us." Let every one wlio hears this sermon with a view to profit, carefully ajiply to himself those traits whicli have the nearest resemblance to his state. Hence 1 would presume every one of you to be the man who shall attain the age of eighty years: these arc the temptations he will find in his coarse. 1, Scarcely will you be liberated from the arms of the nurse, when you fall under the care of weak and indulgent ])eople; who will, through a cruel complaisance, take as much pains to clierish the corrupt propensities of nature, a» they ought to take for their subjugation. At this earlv period they will sow in your heart awful seeds, which will ])roduce an increase of thirty, sixty, or an hundred-fold. They will make a jest of your faults, they will applaud your vices, and so avail themselves of your ten- der age, to give a thousand and a thousand wounds to your innocence, that all your appli- cation will scarcely heal, when you shall be capable of ai)plication. If you do not avail yourselves of the first senlimcnls of piety and reason, to resist so far as liie weakness of child- hood will permit, tliosu dangerous snares, you will find yourselves very far advanced in the road of vice before your situation is perceived. 2. Is infancy succeeded by youlli? Fresh snares, new temptations, occur. On the com- mencement of rellection, you will discover ex- isting, in your constitution and temperature, principles grossly opposed to the law of God. Perhaps the evil may have its principal seat in the soul, perhaps in the body. In the tempera- ture of the soul, you will find principles of en- vy, principles of vanity, t>r principles of avarice. In the temperature of the body, you will find j)rinciples of anger, principles of impurity, or |)rinciples of indolence. If you are not aware of this class of temptations, you will readily sufler yourselves to be carried away by your propensity, and you will ol>ey it without re- morse; you will invest it with privilege to do with innocence, what the rest of the world can- not do without a crime. You must expect to find in your temperature principles which will dispense with virtue, and to l>o captivated by maxims which too much predominate in the world, and which you will daily hear from the mouths of your companions in dissipation. These maxims are, that youth i» the age of pleasure; that it is unbecoming a ywmg man to i)e grave, serious, devout, and scrupulous; that now we ought to excuse not only games, plea- sure, and the theatres, but even debauchery, drunkenness, luxury, and profaneness; that swearing gives a young man an air of chivalry becoming his age, and debauchery an air of gallantry whicli does him credit in the world. Caution yourselves against this class of tempta- tions: reject the sin whicli so easily destroys you, I if you sliould relax in one single instance. Ahi Ser. LXXXIII.] ON THE EXAMPLE OF THE SAINTS. 291 think, my son, that you may never survive thoee years you devote to the world, think that the small-pox, a fever, a single quarrel, or one act of dekiuchery, may snatch away your life. Think, tliough you should run your full course, 3'ou will never have such flexible organs, so re- tentive a memory, so ready a conception, as you have to-day; and consequently, you will never have such a facility for forming habits of holiness. Think how you will one day lament to have lost so precious an opportunity. Con- secrate your early life to duty, dispose your heart, at this period, to ensure salvation. "Jle- mcniber now thy Creator in the days of lliy youth, while the evil days come not, nor the years draw nigh, in which thou shaltsay, 1 have no pleasure in them," Ecoles, xii. 1. 3. After having considered the period of youth, we proceed to maturer age. A new stage, fresh snarjes, more temptations. What profession can you ciioosc, which the spirit of the world has not infected with its venom; and which has not, so to speak, its peculiar morality? The peculiar morality of a snldier, whose duty is to defend society, to maintain religion, to re- press licentiousness, to oppose rapine by force: and to deduce, from so many dangers, which open the way of death, motives to render the account which Heaven will require: but it is a profession in which a man thinks himself au- thorized to insult society, to despise religion, to foment licentiousness, to lend his arm, to sacri- fice his life, to sell his person for the most am- bitious designs, the most iniquitous conquests, and sanguinary enterprises of sovereigns. The peculiar morality of the statesman and tna^islrate, whoso profession is to preserve the o|)pressed, to weigh with calmness a long detail of «auses and consequences, to avail himself of the dignity to which he is elevated to afford ex- amples of virtue; but it is a profession in which he thinks himself entitled to become inaccessible to the injured, to weary them out with morti- fying reserves, with insupportable delays, and to dispense with labour and application, aban- doning himself to dissipation and vice. The peculiar morality of the lawyer, whose ■duty ie to restrict his ministry to truth and jus- tice, never to plead for a cause which has not the appearance of equity, and to be the advo- cate of those who are inadequate to reward his services: but it is a ])rofession in which a man tiiinks himself authorized to maintain both falsehood and truth, to support iniquity and falsehood, and to direct his efforts to the cele- brity he may acquire, or the remuneration he may receive. The peculiar morality of tlie merchant, whose duty is to detest short weights and false mea- sures, to pay the revenue, and to be satisfied with a moderate profit: but a profession in which he thinks himself authorized to indulge those very vices he ought in particular to avoid. The peculiar morality of the minister. What is the vocation of a minister? Is it not to devote himself entirely to virtue? Is it not to set a jiattern to all the church? Is it not to visit the hospitals, and houses of afUiction, and to alle- viate, as far as he can, the pressure of their ca- lamities? Is it not to direct his studies, not to subjects by which he may acquire celebrity for learning and eloquence, but to those wliich tatijf render him most useful' Is it not to determine on the choice of a text, not by the caprice of the people, which on this point is often weak, and mostly partial, but by the immediate wants of the flock? Is it not to |)ay the same attention to a dying man, born of an obscure family, stretched on a couch of grass, and unknown to the rest of the world, as to him who possesses a distinguished nam«, who aiioimds in wealth, who j>ruvides the most splendid coffin and mag- nificent funeral? Is it not to "cry aloud, to lift up his voice like a trumpet, to show the people their transgressions, and the house of Jacob their sins; to know no man after the flesh;" and when he ascends this pulpit, to reprove vice with firmness, however exalted may be the situ- ation of the offender? But what is the morality of a pastor? " Enter not into judgment with thy servants, O Lord; for we cannot answer thee one of a thousand." Caution yourselves against this class of temptations. The world is neither your legislator, nor your judge; Jesus Christ, and not the world, is the sovereign ar- bitrator. It is the morality of Jesus Christ, and not the maxims of men, which you should fol- low. 4. Having reviewed human life in infancy, youth, and manhood, I proceed to consider it in old age; in that old age, which seems so distant, but which is, in fact, within a few years; in that old age which seems, in some sort, at the dis- tance of eternity, but which advances with as- tonishing rapidity. A new state, fresh snares, more temptations occur: infirmities, troubles, and cares, arrive with age. The less there re- mains on earth to defend, the more men are resolved not to let it jro. The love of life hav- ing predominated for fifty or sixty years, some- times unites and attaches itself, so to speak, yet more closely to the short period, which they think is still promised. It is so rooted and in- trenched in tlie heart, as to be immoveable by all our sermons on eternity. They look on all who witness the calamities they suffer, as though they were the cause: it seems as though they were reproached for having lived so long, and they make them atone for this imaginary fault, as though they were really guilty. The thoughts of death they put away with the greater care, as it approaches nearer, it being impossible to avoid the idea, without these el- forts to remove it. They call to their aid amusements, which would scarcely be excusa- ble in the age of infancy: thus they lose the precious remains of life, — granted by the long- sulTering of God, — as they have lost the long course of years, of which nothing now remains but the recollection. Be on your guard, aged men, against this class of temptations, and against these illusions, which will easily beset you, unless the whole of your strength be collected for precaution and defence. Let ])rayer be joined to vigilance: let those hands, trembling and enfeebled with the weight of years, be raised to heaven: let that voice, scarcely capable of articulating accents, be addressed to God: entreat him, who succour- ed you in the weakness of infancy, in the vigour of youth, in the bustle of riper age, still to sus- tain you, when the hand of time is heavy upon your head. Hitherto, my dear brethren, I have addres»- 292 SAINT PAUL'S DISCOURSE BEFORE [Ser. LXXXIII. ed you, merely concerning the dangers peculiar to each apfc. What would you not say now, if we should enter into a detail of those wliicli occur in every situation of hfe? We find, in every age, temptations of adversity, tempta- tions of prosperity, temptations of health, temp- tations of sickness, temptations of company, and temptations of solitude: and who is ahle fully to enumerate all the sins which so easily beset us in the various ages of life? How should one be rich without pride, and poor without complaint' How may one fill the middle rank of fortune, without the disgust naturally conse- quent on a station, which has nothing emulous and animating; which can be endured by those only, who discover the evils from which they are sheltered, and the dangers from which they are freed? How can one enjoy health without indulging in the dissipations of life, without immersion into its cares, or indulging in its pleasures? How can one be sick, without ad- mitting complaint against tiiat gracious Provi- dence, which distributes both good and evil? How can one be in solitude, without being cap- tivated with reveries and corrupt propensities? How can one be in company, without receiving the poison which is there respired, without re- ceiving a conformity to every surrounding ob- ject? How see one's self obscure in the world, and unknown to our fellow-creatures, without indulging that anxiety, which is less exercised in the world for the love of virtue, than to avoid the odium consequent on an open viola- tion of its laws? How can one enjoy reputa- tion without ostentation, and blending some grains of incense with what we receive of other&' Every where snares, every where dan- gers, beset us! From the truths we have delivered, there necessarily arises an objection, by which you are struck, and many of you, perhaps, already discouraged. What! are we always to be think- ing about religion, being in constant danger of losing it, should we suffer it to escape our minds? What! must we always watch, always pray, always fight' Yes, my brethren, always, at all times. On seeing the temptations of youth, you should guard against those of riper age. On seeing the temptations of solitude., you should guard against those of company. On seeing the temptations of adversity, you should guard against those of prosperity. On seeing the temptations of health, you should guard against those of sickness. And on see- ing the temptations of sickness, you should guard against those of death. Yes; always watching, always fighting, always praying. I do not say, if you should happen to relax a moment from the work; I do not say, if you should happen to fall by some of the tempta- tions to which you are exposed from the world, that you are lost without resource, that you should instantly go from sin to punishment, from the abuse of time to an unhai)py eternity. Perhaps God will grant you a day, or a year, for repentance; but periiaps he will not. Per- haps you may repent; but perhaps you may not. Perhaps you may be saved; but perhaps not. Perhaps hell — perhaps heaven. What repose can you enjoy in so awful an alterna- tive? What delight can you enjoy in certain vices, the perpetration of which requires time? What repose can you enjoy in a criminal in- trigue, saying to yourself, perhaps God will pardon me after having brought this intrigue to an issue: but perhaps, also, during the course of the crime, he will pronounce the sen- tence it deserves. What repose can you enjoy in the night preceding a day destined to a com- jjliration of crimes, saying to yourself, perhaps I shall see the day devoted to so dreadful a purjiosc: but perhaps this very night " my soul shall be required:" what delight can you take in a tour of pleasure, when it actually engrosses the time you have devoted to search your con- science, to examine your state, to prepare for death, to make restitution for so many frauds, so many extortions, so many dissipations? W^hat satisfaction can you take, saying to yourself, perhaps I shall see the day devoted to so great a work, but perha|)s it will never come? Ah! my brethren, have you any proper idea of the shortness of life: have you any proper idea of the eternity which follows, when you start the objection, What! always pray, always fight, always watch? This life, the whole of which we exliort you to devote to your salva- tion; this life, of which you say; always — al- ways; this is the life, on the shortness of which you make so many exaggerated declamations: I mistake, the shortness of which can scarcely be exaggerated. This life, of which you say, when we exhort you to devote it entirely to your salvation; this life of which you 'say. What! always — always; this life, which is but a vajiour dissipated in the air; this life, which passes with the swiftness of a weaver's shuttle; this life, which like a flower blooms in the morning, and withers at night: this life, which like a dream amuses the fancy for a night, and of whicli not a vestige remains at the dawn of day: — this is the life which is but like a thought. And eternity, concerning which you regret to be always employed; that abyss, that gulf, are those mountainous heaps of years, of ages, of millions and oceans of ages, of which language the most expressive, images the most sublime, geniuses the most acute, orators the most elo- quent, I have almost said, the most audacious, can give you but imperfect notions. Ah! life of fourscore years! A long duration in the estimation of the heart, when employed in wrestling against tiie flesh; but a short period when compared with eternity. Ah! life of fourscore years, spent wholly in watchfulness, prayer, and warfare; but thou art well spent when we obtain the prize of a blissful immor- tality! My brethren, my dear brethren, who can live but fourscore years, What do I say? Who among us can expect to see the age of fourscore years? Christians, who are already arrived at thirty, others at forty, others at fifty, and another already at fourscore years. My dear brethren, some of you must die in thirty, some of you in twenty, some of you in ten years, and some in a single day. My dear brethren, let us consecrate to eternity the rem- nant of our days of vanity. Let us return to the testimonies of the Lord, if we have had the misfortune to deviate. Let us enter on the race of salvation, if we have had the presump- tion to defer our entrance into it to the present period. Let us run with patience the race, if we have already made a progress; and lot the Ser. LXXXV.] ON THE COVENANT OF GOD, &c. 301 most Christians. We never ascend tiie piiljiit, but it seems that we address you for tlie ):i.st time. It seems that wo should e.xiiaust tlie whole of religion, to pluck our heroes from the world, and never let them go till we have intrusted them in the arms of Jesus Christ. It seems that we should hid you an eternal fare- well; that we are stretched on our bed of death, and that you are in a similar situation. Yes, Christians, this is the only moment on which we can reckon. It is, perhaps, the only acceplttble time. It is, perhaps, llie last day of our risitalion. Let us im])rove a period so precious. Let us no longer say, — by and by — at another time; but let us — to-day — this moment — even now. Let the pastor say, I have been insipid in my sermons, and remiss in my conduct; having been more solicitous, during the exercise of my ministry, to advance my family, than to build up the Lord's house. I will preach hereafter with fervour and with zeal. I will be vigilant, sober, rigorous, and disin- terested. Let the miser say, I have riches ill acquired. I will purge my house with illicit wealth. I will overturn the altar of Mammon, and erect another to the Supreme Jehovah. Let the prodigal say, I will extinguish tiie un- happy fires by which I am consumed, and kindle in my bosom the flame of divine love. Ah, unhappy passions, which war against my soul; sordid attachments; irregular propensi- ties; emotions of concupiscence; law in tlie members; I will know you no more. I will make with you an eternal divorce, I vi'ill from this moment open my heart to the Eternal Wisdom, who condescends to ask it. If we are in this happy disposition, if we thus become regenerate, we shall enjoy from this moment foretastes of the glory, which God has prepared. From this moment, the truths of religion, so far from casting discour- agement and terror on the soul, shall heighten its consolation and joy; from this moment, heaven shall open on this audience, paradise shall descend into your heart, and the Holy Spirit shall come and dwell there. He will bring that peace, and those joys, which pass all understanding. And, commencing our fe- licity on earth, he will give us the earnest of his consummation. God grant us the grace! To him, the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit, be honour and glory, now and ever. Amen. SERMON LXXXV. ON THE COVENANT OF GOD WITH THE ISRAELITES. Deut. xxi.x. 10 — 19. Ye stand this day all of you before the Lm-d your God; your captains of your tribes, your elders, and your officers, with all the men of Isi-ael, your little ones, your icives, and thy stranger that is in thy camp, from thy heicer of wood, unto the drawer of thy water: that thou should- est enter into covenant with the Lord thy God, and into his oath which the Lord thy God maketh with thee this day: that he may establish thee to-day, for a people unto himself: and that he may be unto thee a God, as he hath been unto thee, and as he hath sworn unto thy fathers, to Abiaham, to Isaac, and to Jacob. »Vf tf/ier with you only do I make this covenant and this oath; but with him that standeth here xcith us this day before the Lord your God, and also tcith him that is not here this day (for ye knoxc that we lidve dwelt in the land of Epypt, and how we came through the natioits which ye passed by. »'7ïi(Z ije hare seen their abominations, and their idols, wood and stone, silver and gold, ichich tcere amon<:ç them:) lest there should be among you man or woman, or family, or tribe, whose heart tumeth away this day from the Lord your God, to go and serre the gods of these nations; lest there should lie among you a root that bear- eth gall and wormwood, and it come to pass, when he heureth the words of this curse, that he bless himself in his heart, saying, I shall have peace though 1 walk in the imagination of mine heart. Mv brethren, tliis sabbath is a covenant-day between God and us. This is the design of our sacraments; and the particular design of the holy supper we have celebrated in the morning service. So our catcchists teach; so our chil- dren understand; and among the less instructed of this assembly there is scarcely one, if we should ask him what is a sacrament, but would answer, " it is a symbol of the covenant be- tween God and Christians." This being understood, we cannot observe without astonishment the slight attention, most men pay to an institution, of which they seem to entertain such exalted notions. The ten- dency would not be happy in conciliating your attention to the discourse, were I to commence by a humiliating portrait of the manners of the age; in which some of you would have occa- sion to recognise your own character. But the fact is certain, and I appeal to your consciences. Do we take the same precaution in contracting a covenant with God in the eucharist, which is exercised in a treaty on which the prosperity of the state, or domestic happiness depends? When the latter is in question, we confer with experienced men, we weigh the terms, and in- vestigate with all possible sagacity, what is stipulated to us, and what we stipulate in re- turn. But when we come to renew the high covenant, in which the immortal God conde- scends to be our God, in which we devote our- selves to him, we deem the slightest examina- tion every way sufficient. We frequently even repel with indignation a judicious man, who would venture, by way of caution, to ask, "What are you going to do? What engage- ments are you about to form? What calamities are you about to bring on yourselvea-" One grand cause of this defect, proceeds, it is presumed, from our having for the most part, inadequate notions of what is called contract- ing, or renewing, our covenant with God. We commonly confound the terms, by vague or confused notions: hence one of the best re- medies we can apply to an evil so general, is to explain their import with precision. Having searched from Genesis to Revelation, for the happiest text affording a system complete and clear on the subject, I have fi.\ed on the words you have heard. They are part of the dis- course Moses addressed to the Israelites, when he arrived on the frontiers of the promised 303 ON THE COVENANT OF GOD [Ser. LXXXV. land, and was about to give an account of tlic I Clirist as some of them also tempted, and were most important ministry God had ever entrust ed to any mortal. I enter now upon the subject. And after having again implored llic aid of Heaven; after having conjured yon, by the compassion of God, who tliis day pours upon us such an abun- dance of favours, to give so important a subject the consideration it deserves; I lay down at once a principle generally received among Christians. The legal, and the evangelical covenant. The covenant God contracted with the Israelites by the ministry of Moses, and destroyed of serpents. Neither murmur ye, as some of thein also murmured, and were destroy- ed of the destroyer," 1 Cor. x 6 — 10. You know the language of St. Paul. Fartlier still: whatever superiority onr con- dition may have over the Jews; in whatever more attracting manner he may have now re- vealed himself to us; whatever more tender bands, and gracious cords of love God may have employed, to use an expression of a pro- phet, will serve only to augment our misery, if we prove unfaithful. " For if the word spoken the covenant he has contracted this morninc by angels was steadfast, and every transgression with J'en, differ only in circumstances, being in substance the same. Properly speaking, God has contracted but one covenant with man since the fall, the covenant of grace upon Mount Sinai; whose terrific glory induced the Israelites to say, " Let not God speak with us, lest we die," Exod. xx. 19. Amid so much lightnings and thunders, devouring fire, dark- ness and tempest; and notwithstanding this pro- hibition, which apparently precluded all inter- course between God and sinful man, "Take heed — go not up into the mount, or touch the border of it: there shall not a hand touch it, but he shall surely be stoned, or shot through;" upon this mountain, I say, in this barren wil- derness, were instituted the tendcrest ties God ever formed with his creature: amid the awful punishments which we see so frequently fall upon those rebellious men; amid fiery serpents which exhaled against them a pestilential breath, God shed upon them the same grace he so abundantly pours on our assemblies. The Is- raelites, to whom Moses addresses the words of my text, had the same sacraments: they " were all baptized in the cloud; they did all drink the same spiritual drink; for they drank of that spiritual rock which followed them, and that rock was Christ," 1 Cor. x. 2, 3. The same appellations; it was said to them as to you, "If ye will obey my voice indeed, and keep my covenant, then ye shall be a peculiar treasure unto me above all people, for all the earth ie mine," Exod. xix. 6. The same pro- mises; for " they saw the promises afar off, and embraced them," Hcb. xi. 13. On the other hand, amid the consolatory ob- jects which God displays before us at this pe- riod, in distinguished lustre; and notwithstand- ing these gracious words which resound in this church, "Grace, grace unto it." Notwith- standing this engaging voice, " Come unto me all yc that labour, and are heavy laden;" and amid the abundant mercy we have seen dis- played this morning at the Lord's table; if we should violate the covenant he has establisiied with us, you have the same cause of fear as the Jews. We have the same Judge, equally aw- ful now, as at that period; " for our God is a consuming fire," Ileb. xii. 29. We have the same judgments to apprehend. " With many of them, God was not well jdeased; for they were overthrown in the wilderness. Now these things were for our examples, to the in- tent we should not lust after evil things, as they also lusted. Neither bo ye idolaters, as some of them. Neither let us couunit fornica- tion as some of them committed, and fell in 4>ne day twenty thousand. Neither let us tempt and disobedience received a just recompense of reward, how shall we escape, if we neglect so great salvation?" Heb. ii. 2, 3. " For ye are not come unto the mountain tliat might bo touciied, and that burned with fire, nor unto blackness, and darkness, and tempest, and the sound of a trumpet, and the voice of words, which voice they that heard, entreated that the word should not be spoken to them any more. I3ut ye are come unto Mount Zion, and unto the city of the living God, the heavenly Jeru- salem, and to an innumerable company of an- gels, to the general assembly and church of the first-born, wiiich are written in heaven, and to God the judge of all, and to the spirits of just men made perfect, and to Jesus the Mediator of the new covenant, and to the blood of sprinkling, tliat speaketh better things than that of Abel. See that yc refiise not him that speaketh: for if thej' escaped not who refused him that spake on earth, much more shall not we escape, if we turn away from him that speaketh from heaven," Heb. xii. 18 — -'5. Hence the principle respecting the legal, and evangelical covenant is indisputable. The co- venant God formerly contracted with the Is- raelites by the ministry of Moses, and the cove- nant he has made with us this morning in the sacrament of the holy supper are but one cove- nant. And what the legislator said of the first, in the words of my text, we may say of the se- cond, in the explication we shall give. Now, my brethren, this faithful servant of God re- quired the Israelites to consider five things in the covenant tiiey contracted with their Maker. I. The sanctity of the [)lace: " Ye stand this day all of you before the Lord; that is, before his ark, the most august symbol of his presence." II. Tiie universality of the contract: "Ye stand this day all of you betore the Lord, the captains of your tribes, ^-our ciders, your of- ficers, and all the men of Israel: your little ones, your wives, and the stranger who is in tiie midst of your camp, from the hower of wood to the drawer of water." III. Its mutual oi)ligation: " That he may, on the one hand, establish thee to-day for a jieople unto himself; and on the other, that he may be unto thee a God." IV. The extent of tlic engagement: an en- gagement with reserve. God covenants to give himself to the Israelites, as he had sworn to their fathers, Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob. The Israelites covenant to give themselves to God, and abjure not only gross, but refined idolatry. Take heed, " lest there should bo among you man or woman, or family, or tribe, whoso heart turnetli away this day from the Ser. LXXXV. WITH THE ISRAELITES. 303 Lord your God, to go and servo the gods of these nations; lest there should ho among you a root that iiearelii gall and wormwood." V. The oath of the covenant; " Thou enter- est into the covenant and the execration by an oath." 1. Moses required the Israelites to consider the sanctity of the place in which the. covenant was contracted with God. It was consecrated by the divine presence. " Ye stand this day all of you before the Jjord." Not only in tiie vague sense in which we say of all our words and ac- tions, " God sees me; God hears me; all things are naked and open to him in whose presence I stand;" hut in a sense more confined. Tiie Most liigh dwells not in human temples. " What is the hou.se ye build to mc, and where is the place of my rest? Behold the heaven and the heaven of heavens cannot contain thee, much less the house that 1 have built." lie chose, however, the Tabernacle for his habita- tion, and the Ark for his throne. There he de- livered his oracles; there he issued his supremo commands. Moses assembled the Israelites, it is presumed, near to this majestic pavilion of the Deity, when he addressed to them the words of my te.xt; at least 1 think I can prove, from correspondent passages of Scripture, that this is the true acceptation of the expression, " Before the Lord." The Christians having more enlightened no- tions of the Divinity than the Jews, have the less need to be a|)|)riz(;d tliat God is an omni- present Being, and uncoiifined by local resi- dences. We have been taught by Jesus Christ, that the true worsliippers restrict not their de- votion to Mount Zion, nor Mount Gerizim; they worship God in sjiirit and in truth. But let us be cautious, lest, under a pretence of re- moving some superstitious notions, we refine too far. God presides in a peculiar manner in our temples, and in a peculiar manner even "where two or three are met together in his name:" more especially in a house consecrated to his glory; more especially in places in which a whole nation come to pay their devotion. The more august and solemn our worship, the more is God intimately near. And what part of the worship we render to God, can be moic august than that we have celebrated this morn- ing? In wliat situation can the thought, " I am seen and heard of God;" in what situation can it impress our hearts if it have not impressed them this morning? God, in contracting this covenant with the Israelites on Sinai, which Moses induced tiiem to renew in the words of my text, apprized tliem that he would be found upon that holy hill. He said to Moses, " Lo I come unto thee in a thick cloud, that the people may hear when I speak with thee, and believe thee for ever. Go unto the people, and sanctify them to-day, and to-morrow, and let them wasii their clothes, and be ready against the third day: for the third day the Lord will come down in the sight of all the people, upon Mount Sinai," Exod. xix. 9. It is said expressly, that Nadaband Abiliu, and the seventy elders, should ascend the hill, and in its clearness;" an emblem which God chose perhaps, because sap[)hire was among the Egyp- tians an emblem of royalty; as is apparent in the writings of those who have preserved the hieroglyphics of tliat nation. The eyes of your understanding, were not they also enlightened this morning.* God was present at this house; he was seated here on a throne, more luminous than the brightest sap- ])liirc, and amid the myriads of his host. It was before tlie presence of the Lord descended in this temple as on Sinai in holiness, that we ap- peared this morning; when, Ijy the august sym- bols of the body and blood of the lledeemer of mankind, we came again to take the oath of fidelity we have so often uttered, and so often broken. It was in the presence of God that thou didst appear, contrite heart! Penitent sin- ner! he discerned thy sorrows, he collected thy tears, he attested thy repentance. It was in the presence of the I.,ord thy God that thoa didst appear, hypocrite! Ho unmasked thy countenance, ho pierced the specious veils which covered thy wretched heart. It was in the presence of the Lord thy God that thou didst appear, wicked man! Thou, who in the very act of seeming to celebrate this sacrament of love, which should have united thee to thy brother as the soul of Jonathan was knit to Da- vid, wouldst have crushed him under thy feet. What a motive to attention, to recollection! What a motive to banish all vain thoughts, which so frequently interrupt our most sacred exercises! What a motive to exclaim, as the patriarch Jacob, " How dreadful is this place! Tliis is none other than tl)o house of God, and this is the gate of heaven." II. Moses required the Israelites in renewing their covenant with God, to consider the uni- versality of the contract. " Ye stand all of you before the Lord." The Hebrew by descent, and the strangers; that is, tlie proselytes, the heads of houses, and the hewers of wood, and drawers of water; those who filled the most distinguished offices, and those who performed the meanest services in the commonwealth of Israel; the wo- men and the children; in a word, the whole without e.xceptionof tiiose who belonged to the ])cople of God. Itiswortliy of remark, my bre- thren, that God, on prescribing the principal ceremonies of tlie law, required every soul who refused submission to be cut off, that is, to sus- tain an awful anathema. He hereby signified, that no one should claim the privileges of an Israelite, without conformity to all the institu- tions he had prescribed. So persuaded were the j)eople of this trutii, that they would have rejrarded as a monster, and punished as a de- linquent, any man, whether an Israelite by choice, or descent, who had refused conformity to the passions, and attendance on the solemn festivals. Would to God tliat Christians entertained the same sentiments! Would to God, that your preachers could say, on sacramental occasions, as Moses said to the Jews in the memorable dis- course we apply to you: " Ye stand all of you this day before the Lord your God; the captains contract the covenant with God in the name of of yoiu- tribes, your elders, your officers, your the whole congregation; they saw evident marks I wives, your little ones, from the hewer of wood of the Divine presence, " a paved work of sap»- | to the drawer of water." But alas! how de- phire-stone, and as it were the body of heaven I fective are our assemblies on those solemn oc- 304 ON THE COVENANT OF GOD [Ser. LXXXV, casions! But alas! where were you, temporizers, Nicodemuses, timorous souls? Where have you been? it is tiow a fortnight since you appeared before tlie Lord your God, to renew your cove- nant with him. Ah! degenerate men, worthy of the most pointed and mortifying reproof, such as that which Deborali addressed to Reuben: Why didst thou stay " among the sheep-folds, to hear tiie bleating of the flocks," Judges v. 16. You were with your gold, with your silver, sor- did objects, to which you pay in this nation the homage which God peculiarly requires in cli- mates 60 happy. You were, perhaps, in the temple of superstition; while we were assembled in the house of the Most High. You were in Egypt, preferring the garlic and onions to the milk and honey of Canaan; while we were on the borders of tiie promised land, to which God was about to give us admission. Poor children of tiiose unhappy fathers! Where were you, while we devoted our ofl- spring to God who gave them; wiiile we led those for admission to his table, who were ade- quately instructed; while we prayed for the fu- ture admission of those who are yet deprived by reason of their tender age? Ah! you were victims to the indifference, the cares, and ava- rice of those who gave you birth! You are as- sociated by them with those who are enemies to the reformed name; who, unable to convince the fathers, hope, at least, to convince the chil- dren, and to extinguish m their hearts tiie mi- nutest sparks of truth! O God! if thy justice have already cut off' those unworthy fathers, spare, at least, according to thy clemency, these unoffending creatures, wlio know not yet their rigiit hand from tiieir left; whom they would detach from thy communion, before they are acquainted with its purity! Would to God that this was all the cause of our complaint! (3h! where were you, while we celebrated the sacrament of the Lord's supper? You, inhabitants of these provinces, born of re- formed families, professors of the reformation! You, who arc married, vviio arc engaged in bu- siness, who have attained the age of forty or fifty years, without ever participating of the holy eucliarist! There was a time, my bre- thren, among the Jews, when a man who should have had tiie assurance to neglect the rites which constituted tlie essence of the law, would have been cut off" from the people. This law has varied in regard to circumstances; but in essence it still subsists, and in all its force. Let him apply this observation, to whom it pecu- liarly belongs. III. Moses required the Israelites, in renew- ing their covenant witii God, to consider what constituted its essence: wliicii, according to tiic views of the Lawgiver, was the reciprocal en- gagement. Be attentive to tiiis term reciprocal; it is the soul of my delinition. What consti- tutes the essence of a covenant, is tiie reciprocal engagements of tiic contracting parties. This is obvious from tiie words of my text; thai thou shouldst (stipulate or) enter. Here we distinctly find inul\iul conditions; here we distinctly find that God engaged witii the Israelites to be tiieir God; and tlicy engaged to be his people. Wo proved, at the coimnenrement of this discourse, that the covenant of God with the Israelites, was in substance tlic same as that contracted with Christians. This being considered, what idea ought we to form of those Christians (if we may give that name to men who can entertain such singular notions of Christianity,) who ven- tured to affirm, that the ideas of conditions, and reciprocal engaassed in the open space betwiîon the two, thereby testifying their consent to be slauglitered as those victims, if they did not religiously con- firm the covenant contracted in so mysterious a manner. The sacred writings afford examples of this custom. In the fifteenth chapter of Genesis, Abraham, by tlie divine command, took a heifer of three years (dd, and a ram of the same age, and dividing them in the midst, he placed the parts opposite to each other: " and behold, a smoking furnace, and a burning lamp passed between those pieces." This was a symbol that the Lord entered into an engagement with the patriarch, according to the existing custom: hence it is said, that " the Lord made a cove- nant with -Abraham." In the thirty-fourth chapter of the prophe- cies of Jcroniiah, wo find a correspondent pas- sago. " I will give the men that have trans- gressed my covenant, which have not perform- ed the words of the covenant, that they made before me, when they cut the calf in twain, and passed between the parts, the princes of Judaii, — I will even give them into the hands of their enemies." If we do not find the whole of these ceremonies observed, when God con- tracted the covenant on Sinai, we should mark what occurs in the twenty-fourth chapter of Exodus; " Moses sent the young men of the children of Israel, which ollercd burnt-otfer- ings, and sacrificed peace-olTerings of oxen unto the Lord. And Moses took half of the blood, and put it in basins: and li;ilf of the blood he sprinkled on the altar; and the other half he sprinkled on the ])eople, and said. Be- hold the blood of the covenant which the Lord iiatli made with you. And he took the book of the covenant, and read in the audience of the people: and they said, all tliat the Lord hatli said, will we do, and be obedient. What is the import of this ceremony, if it is not the same which is expressed in my text, that the Israelites, in contracting the covenant with God, enter into the execration oath; subjecting themselves, if ever they should presume de- liberately to violate the sti|)ulations, to be treated as the victims innnolatcd on Sinai, and as those which Moses i)robably offered, when it was renewed, on the confines of Pa- lestine. Perhaps one of my hearers may say to liim- stdf, tliat the terrific circumstances of this cere- mony regarded the Israelites alone, whom God addressed in liglitiiitigs and thunders from the top of Sinai. What! was there then no victim immolated, when tîod conlract(;d his covenant with us? Does not St. Paul expressly say, that " without the shedding of blood, there is no remission of sins'" lleb. ix. '22. And what were the lightnings, what were the thunders of Sinai? ^Vhat were all the execrations, and all the curses of the law? Tlicy were the just punishments every sinner shall sutler, who ne- glects an entrance into favour with God. Now, these lightnings, these thunders, these execra- tions, these curses, did they not all unite against the slaughtered victim, when God contracted his covenant with us; — I would say, against the head of Jesus Christ? O my God! what revolting sentiments did not such comiilicated cal:i!iiities excite in the soul of the Saviour! The idea alone, when presented to his mind, a little before his death, constrained him to say, "Now is my soul troubled," John xii. 17. And on approaching the hour; " My soul is exceedingly sorrowful, even .unto death. O my Father, if it be possible, let this cup pass from me," Matt. xxvi. 38, 39. And on the cross; " My (Jod, my God, why hast thou for- saken me!" Matt, xxvii. 46. — Sinner! here is the victim immolated on contracting thy cove- nant with God! Here are the sutl'erings thou didst subject thyself to endure, if ever thou shouldest perfidiously violate it! Thou hast entered, thou hast passed into covenant, and into the oath of execration which God has re- (juired. APPLICATION. My brethren, no man should presume to dis- Ser. LXXXVI.] THE SEAL OF THE COVENANT. 307 puise the nature of liis engagements, and tlie liigli characters of the gospel. Because, on the solemn festival-day, when we appear in the presence of the Lord our God; — when we en- ter into covenant with liim; and after the en- gagement, when we come to ratify it in the lioly sacrament; — we not only enter, but we also pass into covenant, according to tiio idea attached to the term: we pass between the parts of the victim divided in sacrifice; we pass between the body and blood of Christ, di- vided from each other to rejiresent the Sa- viour's death. We then say, " Lord! I ccmsent, if I should violate tiie stipulations of thy cove- nant, and if after the violation, I do not re- cover by repentance, I consent, tiiat thou shouldst treat me as thou hast treated thy own Son, in the garden of Gethsemane, and on (alvary. Lord! I consent that thou shouldst shoot at me all the thunderbolts and arrows which were shot agai;ist him. I agree, that thou shouldst unite against me all the calami- ties which were united against liim. And, as it implies a contradiction, tliat so weak a mor- tal as I should sustain so tremendous a punish- ment, I agree, that the duration of my pun- ishment should compensate for the defects of its degree; that I should sutfer eternally in the abyss of hell, the punislimcnts I could not have borne in the limited duration of time." Do not take this ])roposilion for a hyberbole, or a rhetorical figure. To enter into covenant with God, is to accept the gospel precisely as it was delivered by Jesus C^hrist, and to submit to all its stipulations. This gospel expressly declares, tliat " fornicators, that liars, that drunkards, and the covetous, sliall not inherit the kingdom of God." On accepting the gos- pel, we accept this clause. Therefore, on ac- cepting the gospel, we submit to be excluded the kingdom of God, if we are either drunk- ards, or liars, or covetous, or fornicators; and if after the commission of any of these crimes, we do not recover by repentance. And what is submission to this clause, if it is not to enter into the execration oath, wliicli God requires of us, on the ratification of this covenant' Ah! my brethren, wo unto us should wc pronounce against ourselves so dreadful an oath, without taking the precautions suggest- ed by tlie gospel to avert these awful conse- quences. All! my brethren, if we are not sin- cerely re.solved to be fiiithful to God, let us make a solenm vow before we leave this tem- ple, never to communicate, never to approach the Lord's table. What! never approach his table! never com- mimicate! Disdain not to enter into the cove- nant which God docs not disdain to make with sinners! What a decision! Great God, what an awful decision! And should this be the ef- fect of my discourse! Alas! m}' brethren, with- out this covenant, without this table, without this oath, we are utterly lost! It is true, we shall not be punished as violators of vows wc never made: but we shall be punished as mad- men; who, being actually in the abyss of per- dition, reject the Redeemer, whose hand is ex- tended to draw us thence. Let us seek that hand, let us enter into this covenant with God. The engagements, without which the cove- nant cannot be confirmed, have, I grant, some- thing awfully solemn. The oath, the oath of execration which God tenders, is, I farther al- low, very intimidating. Hut what constitutes the fear, constitutes also the delight and conso- lation. For what r>nd does God require these engagements.' For what end docs he require this oath? Because it is his good pleasure, that wc should unite (jursc-lvcs to him in tlie same close, constant, and indissoluble maimer as he unites himself to us. Let us l)e sincere, and he will irlve us power to be faithful. J^et us ask his aid, and he will not withhold the grace destined to lead us to this noble end. Let us say to him, " Lord, I do enter into this oath of execration; but I do it with tren)bliniT. I'stahlish my wavering soul; confirm my fueble knees; give me the victory; make me more than conqueror in all the con- flicts, by which the enemy of niy salvation comes to separate me ("r((in thee. Pardon all the fault-s into which 1 may bo rlrawn bv hu- man frailty. Grant, if tiiey should sus|)en(l tlio sentiments of fidelity 1 vow to thee, that they may never be able to eradicate them." Tliese are the prayers which God loves, these arc the prayers which he hears. May he grant us to experience them! Amen. SERMON LXXXVI. THE SEAL OF THE COVEXANT. (For the day of Pentecost.) 2 CoR. i. 21, 22. lie which cslahlifihelh vs with you in Christ, and hath anointid its, is Gvd; who hath also se ale d lis, and ^iveii us the earliest of the Sjiiril in our hearts. How distinguished soever this sabbath may be, it aflords a humiliating consideration to us. How glorious soever the event migiit bo to the church, whose anniversary we now celebrate, it cannot be recollected, without deploring the ditrerencc between what Ciod once achieved for his saints, and what he is doing at the pre- sent period. In the first I\;ntecost, the heavens visibly opened to the brethren; but wc, wc alas! are unable to pierce the vaults of tliis church. The Holy Spirit then miraculously descended with inspiration on those holy men, who were designated to carry th.e light of tlie gospel throughout the world; but now, it is solely by the eftbrts of meditation and study, that j'our preachers communicate knowledge and exhor- tation. The earth shook; the most abstruse mysteries were explained; languages the least intelligible became instantaneously familiar; the sick were healed; the dead were raised to life; Ananias and Sapphira cxjjired at the apostles' feet; and such a multitude of prodi- gies were then achieved, in order to give weight to the ministry of the first preachers of the o-os- pel, that no one among us can be unacquainted with those extraordinary events. But good wishes, prayers, entreaties, are all we can now exert to insinuate into your hearts, and con- ciliate your attention. What then! is the Holy Spirit, who once de- scended with 80 much lustre on tlie primitive 308 THE SEAL OF THE COVENANT. [Ser. LXXXVI. Christians, refused to us? What then! shall we have no participation in the ^lory of that day? shall we talk of the j)rodigies seen by tlie in- fant cliiircli, solely to excite regret at the dark- ness of tlie dispensation, in wliiih it lias pleas- ed God to give us birth? Away with the thought! The change is only in the exterior aspect, not in the basis and substance of Chris- tianity; whatever essential endowments the holy spirit once communicated to the primitive Christians, he now conununicates to us. Hear the words we have read, " He which stablish- eth you with us, in Christ, and hath anointed us, is God; who hath also sealed us, and given us the earnest of the Spirit in our hearts." On these operations of the Holy Spirit in the heart, we now purpose to treat, and on which we shall make three kinds of observations. I. Jt is designed to develope the manner in which this operation is expressed in tiie words of my text. n. To explain its nature, and prove its reality. HI. To trace the disposition of the man who retards, and the man who farthers tiie ope- rations of the Holy Spirit. This comprises the outlines of our discourse. I. We shall easily comprehend tiie manner in which St. Paul expresses the operation of the Holy Spirit, if we follow the subsequent rules. 1. Let us reduce the metaphor to its genu- ine import. St. Paul wishes to prove the truth and certainty of the ])roinises, God had given the church by his ministry; "All the promises of God in him are yea, and in him amen," 2 Cor. i. i'O. These are Hebrew modes of speech. The Jews, in order to designate deceitful speeches, say, that there are men with whom yea is nay, and nay is yea; on the contrary, the yea of a good man is yea, and nay, is nay. Hence the maxim of a celebrated Rabbi, "Let the disciples of the wise, give and receive in fidelity and truth, saying, yea, yea; nay, nay." And it was in allusion to this mode of speecii, that our Saviour said to his disciples, " Let your yea he yea, and your nay be nay; wiiatsoever is more than these cometii of evil," Matt. V. 37. St. Paul, to prove that the promises God has given us in his word, are yea and amen; that is, sure and certain, says, he has estab- lished them in a threefold manner: by the anninlinf;, the seal, and the earnests. These several terms express the same idea, and mark the diversified operations of the Holy Spirit, for the confirmation of the Evangelical pro- mises. However, if another will assert, that we are to imderstand dillercnt operations by these three terms, I will not controvert his opinion. Hy the unclion, we mîiy here under- stand, the miraculous endowmenta alfordcd to the apostles, and to a vast number of the pri- mitive Christians, and the inferences enlight- ened men would conseipientiy draw in favour of Clirislianity. It is a mctaplior taken from the oil pourrd by the special command of God, Oft the head of persons selected for grand achievements, und particularly on the head of kings and priests. It implied that God had designated those men for distinguished offices, juid conimunicated to ihem the necessary i;n- dowments for the adequate discharge of their duty. Under this idea, St. John represents the gift of the Holy Spirit, granted to the whole church: " Ye have an unction from the Holy One, and ye know all things," 1 John, ii. 20. By the seal, of which the apostle here says, " God hath sealed us," the sacraments may be understood. The metaphor is derived from the usages of society in affixing seals to cove- nants and treaties. Under this design are the sacraments represented in the Scriptures. The term is found applied to those exterior institu- tions in the fourth chapter of St. Paul's epiB- tle to the Romans. It is there said that " Abraham received the sign of circumcision, as a seal of the righteousness of faith. By the institution of tliis sign, to Abraham and his posterity, God distinguished the Jews from every nation of the earth; marked them as his own, and blessed them with the fruits of evan- gelical justification. This is the true import, |)rovided the interior grace be associated with the exterior sign; I would say, sanctification, or the image of God; purity being inculcated on us in the Scriptures by the symbol of a seal. Tills, in our opinion, is the import of that fine passage, so distorted by the schoolmen; " The foundation of God standeth sure, having this seal, the Lord knowelh them that are his: let every one that nameth," (or invoketh) " the name of Christ depart from iniquity," 2 Tim. ii. 19. What is God's seal' How does God know his own?" Is it by the exterior badges of sacraments? Is it by " the circumcision which is in the flesh?" No, it is by this more hallowed te.st, " Let every one that nameth the name of Christ depart from iniquity." In fine, by the earn'ests of the Spirit, we understand those foretastes of heaven which God communicates to some of those he has designated to celestial happiness. An earnest (or earnests as in the Greek,) is a deposit of part of the purchase money for a bargain. St. Paul says, and in the sense attached to the term, " We that are in this tabernacle do groan, being burtliened: not that we would be unclothed, but clothed, that mortality might be swallowed up of life. Now he that hath wrought us for the self-same thing is God; who also hath given unto us the earnest of the Spirit," 2 Cor. v. 4, 5. Whether, therefore, each of these terms, unction, seal, earnest, express the same thing; as I think could be proved, by several texts of Scripture, in which they are promiscuously used; — or whether they convey three distinct ideas; — they all indicate that God confirms to us the evangelical promises in the way we have described. This is the idea, my brethren, one should att'ich to the metaphors in our text. In order to comprehend the Scriptures, you should al- ways recollect that they abound with these forms of speech. The sacred writers lived in a warm climate; whose inhabitduts had a natural vivacity of imagination, very dilfereiit from us who reside in a colder region, and under a cloudy sky; who have consequently a peculiar gravity, and dulness of temperature. Seldom, therefore, did the men of whom we have been speaking, employ the simple style. They bor- rowed bold figures; they magnified objects; Skr. LXXXVI.] THE SEAL OF THE COVENANT. 809 they delighted in amplitude and hyperbole. The Holy Spirit, employing the pen of the sacred authors, did not change, but sanctify their tem[)erature. It was his pleasure that they should speak in the language used in their own time; and avail themselves of those forms of speech, without which they would neither have been heard nor understood. 2. I^et us reduce the metaphor to precision, and the figure to truth. But under a notion of reducing it to truth, let us not enfeeble its force; and wishful to reject imaginary mys- teries, let us not destroy those which are real. Tliis second caution is requisite in order to supersede the false glosses which have been attached to the text. Two of these we ought particularly to reject; — the one on the word Spirit; — the other on the words, seal, unclion and earnest, which we have endeavoured to explain. Some divines have asserted, that the word Spirit, ought to be arranged in the class of metaphors designed to express, not a person of the Godhead, but an action of Providence; and that we should attach this sense to the term, not only in this text, but also in all those we adduce to prove, tiiat there is a divine per- son distinct from the Father and the Son, call- ed the Holy Spirit. We have frequently, in this pulpit, avowed our ignorance concerning the nature of the divine essence, if I may be allowed the expres- sion. We have often declared, that we can determine nothing concerning God, except what we are obliged to know from tlie works he has created, and from the truths he has re- Vealed. We have more than once acknow- ledged, that even those truths, which we trace from reason and revelation, are as yet very imperfect; and that the design of the Scrip- tures, when speaking of God, is less to reveal what he is, than the relation in which he stands to us. Hence I conceive, that the ut- most moderation, and deference of judgment; and, if I may so speak, tiic utmost pyrrhon- is!n, on this subject, is all that reasonable men can expect, from the philosopher and the divine. When we find in the Scriptures, certain ideas of the Divinity; — ideas, which have not the slightest dissonance to those aflbrded by his works; ideas, moreover, clearly expressed and repeated in a variety of places, we admit them without hesitation, and condemn those, who, by a false notion concerning propriety of thought, and precision of argument, refuse their assent. Now, it seems to me, that they fall into tliis mistake who refuse to acknow- ledge, in the texts we adduce, a declaration of a Divine Person. 1 shall cite one single passage only from the sixteenth chapter of the gospel by St. John; " When he, the Spirit of truth is come, he will guide you into all truth; for he shall not speak of himself; but whatsoever he shall hear, that shall he speak: and he will show you things to come. He shall glorify me; for he shall receive of mine, and show it unto you." I challenge here, this propriety of thought, and precision of argument, of which the persons we attack make a profession, I had Almost said a parade, to say whether tlicse can obstruct the perception of three persons in the words we have read.' Can they obstruct our perceiving the Father, to whom all things be- long; the Son, who participates in all things which belong to the Father: the Holy Spirit, who receives and reveals those things to the church? I ask again, whether by this proprie- ty of thought, and precision of argument, we can understand an action of Providence, from wiiat is ascribed to the Holy Spirit' And whe- tlier, without offering violence to the laws of language, one may substitute for the term spirit, the words action and Providence, and thus paraphrase the whole passage; " I have yet many things to say unto you, but ye can- not bear them now. Howbeit, when this ac- tion of Providence is come, even this action of Providence, it will guide you into all the trutli; for it shall not speak of itself; but whatsoever it shall hear, that shall it speak; for it sliall receive of mine, and shall show them unto you." We frankly confess, my bretliren, nothing but the reluctance we have to submit our notions to the decision of Su- preme Wisdom can excite an apprehension, that a distinct person is not designated in the words we have cited. And, when it is once admitted, that the Holy Spirit sent to the church is a divine person, can one, on compar- ing the words of our text with those we have quoted, resist the conviction, that the same Spirit is intended in both these passagea' In the class of those, who, under a pretext of not admitting imaginary mysteries, reject such as are real, we arrange those divine, who deny the agency of this adorable person on the heart, in what the apostle calls, unction, seal, and earnest: those supralapsarian teach- ers, who suppose, that all the operation of the Holy Spirit on the regenerate, consists in en- abling him to preach; that he does not afford them the slightest interior aid, to surmount those difficulties which naturally obstruct a compliance with the grand design of preach- ing. The Scriptures assert, in so many places, the inetficacy of preaching without those aids, that no doubt can, in my opinion, be admissi- ble upon the subject. But, if some divines have degraded this branch of Christian the- ology, by an incautious defence, to them the blame attaches, and not to those who have established it upon solid proof Those divines, who, by a mode of teaching much more cal- culated to confound, than defend, orthodox opinions, have spoken of the unction of the Spirit, as though it annihilated the powers of nature, and as though they made a jest; — ^yes, a jest, of the exhortations, promises, and threat- enings addressed to us in the Scriptures: — Those divines, if there are such, shall give an account to God for the discord they have oc- casioned in the church, and even for the here- sies to which their mode of expounding the Scriptures has given birth. You, however, brethren, embrace no doc- trines but those explicitly revealed in the Scriptures; — you, who admit the agency of the Holy Spirit on the heart, unsolicitous to define its nature. You, who say with Jesus Christ, " the wind bloweth where it listeth, and thou hoarest the sound thereof, but canst not tell whence it cometb, and whither it goeth," John 310 THE SEAL OF THE COVENANT. [Ser. LXXXVI. iii. 8. You, who especially admit, that the more conscious wo are of the want of grace, the more we should exert our natural gifts; that, tlie more need we have of interior aids, the more we should profit by exterior assist- ance, by the books we have at hand, by the favourable circumstances in which we may be providentially placed, by the ministry which God has graciously established among us! Fear not to follow those faithful guides, and to adopt precautions so wise; under a pretext of reducing metaphors to precision, never en- feeble their force; and, under a plea of not ad- mitting imaginary mysteries, never reject the real. This was our second rule. And here is the third. In addresses to so- ciety in general, what belongs to each should be distinguished. St. Paul here addressed the whole church: but the whole of its numerous members could not have been in the same situation. Hence, one of the greatest faults we commit.in expounding the Scriptures, and especially in expounding texts which treat of the agency of the Spirit, is, the neglecting to distinguish what we had designed. This is one cause of the little fruit produced by sermons. We address a church, whose religious attain- ments are very unequal. Some are scarcely initiated into knowledge and virtue; others aj)- proach perfection; and some hold a middle rank between the two. We address to this congregation certain general discourses, which cannot apply with equal force to all; it belongs to each of our hearers, to examine how far each argument has reference to his own case. Apply now to the words of our text the general maxim we have laid down; you will recollect the ideas we have attached to the terms used by tlie apostle, to express the agency of the Holy Spirit on the heart. We have said that these terms, unction, seal, ear- nest, excite three ideas. And we can never understand those Scriptures, wliich speak of the operations of the Holy Spirit, unless those three effects of the divine agency are distin- guished. Every Christian has not been confirm- ed by the Spirit of God in all those various ways. All have not received the threefold unction, the tlireefold seal, the threefold ear- nest. To some the Holy Spirit has confirmed the first, availing himself of their ministry for the achievement of miracles, or by causing them to feel that a religion, in favour of which 60 many prodigies have been acliievcd, could not be false. To others, the second confirma- tion was added to Die first; at the moment he carried conviction to the mind, he sanctified the heart. With regard to others, he com- municated more; not only persuading them that a religion, which promises celestial feli- city, is true; not only enabling them to conform to tiio conditions on which this felicity is pro- mised, but he also gives them foretastes here below. 11. and HI. I could better explain my sen- timents, (fid I dare engage, in discussing the second part of my subject, to illustrate the na- ture, and prove the reality of the Spirit's agency on the heart. Cut how can I attempt tlie discussion of so vast a subject in one dis- course, when so many considerations restrict me to brevity' We shall, therefore, speak of the nature and reality of the Spirit's agency on tlie lieart, so far only as is necessary to furnish matter for our third head, on which we are now entering; and which is designed to trace the dispositions that favour, and such as retard, the operations of the Spirit: a most important discussion, which will develop the causes of the anniversary of Pentecost being unavailing in the church, and point out the dispositions for its worthy celebration. What we shall advance on this subject, is founded on a maxim, to which I solicit your peculiar attention; namely, tliat every motion of the Spirit on the heart of good men, requires correspondent co-operation; without wiiich his agency would be unavailing. The refusal to co-operate is called in Scripture, " quenching — grieving — resisting — and doing despite to the Spirit." Now, according to tlie style of St. Paul, this quenching — grieving — resisting — and doing despite to the Holy Spirit, is to ren- der his operation unavailing. Adequately to comprehend this maxim, and at the same time to avoid a mistaken theology, and a corrupt morality, concerning the agency of the Spirit, make the following reflection: that the Holy Spirit may perhaps be consider- ed in one of these three respects; either as the omnipotent God; or as a wise lawgiver: or as a wise lawgiver and the omnipotent God, in the same character. Hence llie man on whom he works, may perhaps be considered, either, as a physical, or a moral being; or as a being in whom both these qualities associate. To consider the Hply Spirit in the work of regen- eration as the omnipotent God, and the man> for whose conversion he exerts his agency, as a being purely physical: and to afiirni that the Floly Spirit acts solely by irresistible influence, man being simi)ly passive, is, in our opinion, a morality extremely corrupt. To consider the Holy Spirit sim()ly as a lawgiver, and man merely as a moral being, capable of vice and virtue; and to aihrm, that the Holy Spirit only proposes his precepts, and tiiat man obeys them, unassisted by tlic divine energy attend- ant on their promulgation, is to propagate a theology equally erroneous. But, to consider the Holy Spirit as the onniipotent God, and legislator in tlie same character, and man as a being botii moral and i)iiysical, is to harmon- ize the laws moral and divine, and to avoid, on a subject so exceedingly controverted, the two equally dangerous rocks, against which so many divines have cast themselves away. The adoption of this last system (which is here the wisest choice,) implies an acknow- ledgment, that there are dispositions in man which retard, and dispositions which cherish, the successful agency of God oh the heart. What are these? They regard the three ways, in which we said the Holy Spirit confirms to the soul the promises of " immortality and life." These he confirms, first, by the persua- sion he affords, concerning the truth of the gospel; causing it to spring up in the heart on review of the miracles performed by the first (Christians. Secondly, he confirms them by the inward work of sanctification. Thirdly, ho confirms thorn by foretastes of celestial de- Ser. LXXXVI.] THE SEAL OF THE COVENANT. 311 light, communicated to some Christians, even here below. Eacii of these points we shall resume in its order. First, the gift of miracles was a seal, which God aiiixcd to the ministry of the first heralds of the gospel. Miracles are called seals: such is the import of those distinguished words of Christ; " Labour not for the meal that perish- eth; but for that meat which endurcth unto eternal life, which the Son of map shall give unto you, for him hath the Father sealed," John vi. 27. The seal which distinguished Je- sus Christ, was the gift of miracles he had re- ceived of God, to demonstrate the divine au- thority of his mission: so lie himself aflirmed | to the multitudes; " The works whicli tiie Fa- ther hath given me to finish, the same works that 1 do, bear witness that the Father hath Bent mo," John v. 36. The inference, with regard to the Lord, is of equal force with regard to the disciples. The miraculous endowments, granted to them, sanctioned their mission; as the mission of the Master was sanctioned by the miraculous j)ow- ers with which it was accompanied. What seal more august could have been aflixed to it' What demonstrations more conclusive can we ask of a religion which announces them to us, than all these miracles which God performed for its confirmation? Could the Deity have communicated his omnipotence to impostors? Could he even have wished to lead mankind into mistake? Could he have allowed heaven and earth, the sea and land to be shaken for the sanction of lies? As tliere are dispositions whicli retard the agency of the Spirit, who comes to impress the heart with truth, so there are others which favour and cherish his work. With regard to those which retard, I would not only include infidelity of heart, wliose principle is malice; I would not only include here those eccentric men, who resist the most palpable proofs, and evident demonstrations, and think they have answered every argument by saying, " It is not true. I doubt, 1 deny." — Men tliat seem to liave made a model of the Pharisees, who, when unable to deny the miracles of Christ, and to elude tlieir force, ascribed them to the devil. This is a fault so notorious, as to su- persede the necessity of argument. But I would also convince you Christians, that the neglect of studying the history of tiie miracles we celebrate to-day, is an awful source of sub- version to the agency we are discussing. Cor- respond, by serious attention and profound re- collection, to the efforts of the Holy Spirit in demonstrating the truth of your religion. On festivals of this kind, a Christian should recol- lect and digest, if I may so speak, the distin- guisiied proofs which God gave of the truth of Christianity on the day whoso anniversary we now celebrate. He should say to himself: " 1 wish to know, whether advantage be taken of my simplicity, or whether I am addressed as a rational licing; wlien I am told, tiiat the first heralds of the gospel performed the mi- racles, attributed to their agency." "I wish to know, whetiier the miracles of the apostles have been narrated, (Acts ii.) and inquire whether those holy men have named the place, the time, the witnesses, and circmn- stances of the miracles: whether it be true that those miracles were performed in the most public places, amid the greatest concourses of I)eople, in presence of I'ersians, of Medes, of I'arthians, of Elamites, of dwellers in Mesopo- tamia, in Judea, in Cappadocia, in Lybia; among Crêtes, Arabs, and Jews. " 1 wish to know, in what way these mira- cles were foretold; whether it be true, that these were the characteristics of evangelical preachers, which the prophets had traced so many ages before the evangelical period; and whether we may not give another interpreta- tion to these distinguished predictions: ' Yet once, it is a little while, and I will shake the heavens, and the earth, and the sea, and the dry land. And I will shake all nations, and the desire of all nations shall come,' Hag. ii. 5, 6. I will pour out my spirit upon all fiesh; and your sons and your daughters shall pro- phecy. Your old men shall dream dreams, your young men shall see visions. And 1 will show wonders in the heavens and in the earth, blood, fire, and pillars of smoke," Joel ii. 28—30. " I wish to know, how these miracles were received; whether it be true, that the multi- tudes, the myriads of proselytes, who had it in their power to investigate the authenticity of the facts, sacrificed their ease, their reputa- tion, their fortune, their life, and every com- fort which martyrs and confessors have been accustomed to sacrifice: I wish to know, whe- tiier the primitive Christians made these sacri- fices on embracing a religion chiefly founded on a belief of miracles. " I wish to know, in what way these mira- cles were opposed; whether it be true, that there is this distinguished difference between the way in which these facts were attacked in the first centuries, and in the present. Whe- ther it be true, that instead of saying, as our infidels assert, that these facts were fabulous, the Celsuses, the Porphyrys, the Zosimuses, who lived in the ages in which these facts were recent, took other methods to evade their force; attributing them to the powers of magic, or confounding them with other pretended mi- racles." This is the study to which we should pro- ceed; wo be to us if we regard it as a tedious task, and excuse ourselves on inconsiderable pretexts! Is there any thing on earth which should interest us more than those important truths, announced by the apostles; and espe- cially those magnificent promises they have de- livered in the name of God? Mortal as we all are, merely appearing on the stage of life, most of us having already run the greater part of our course, called every moment to enter into the invisible world, destined there to de- struction, or eternal existence, is there a ques- tion mor« interesting than this? "Is it for destruction, or eternal existence, I am designa- ted by my Maker? Are the notions I entertain of immortality; of pleasures for evermore at God's right hand; fulness of joy around his throne; of intimate intercourse with the ado- rable Being; of society with angels, with arch- angels, with cherubim and seraphim; for ages, millions of ages, an eternity with the blessed God, .arc the notions I entertain, realities, or 312 THE SEAL OF THE COVENANT. [Ser. LXXXVT. chimcras?" No, my brethren, neither in a coun- cil of war, nor legislative assembly, nor philo- Bophical society, never were questions more im- portant discussed. A rational man should have nothing more at heart than their eluci- dation. Nothing whatever should aflord him greater satisfaction, than when engaged in re- searches of this nature, in which he discovers some additional evidence of immortality, and when he finds stated with superior arguments, the demonstrations we have of the Holy Spi- rit's descent upon the apostles, the anniversary of which we now celebrate. 2. If there are dispositions which retard, and cherish, the first agency of the Holy Spirit on the heart, there are also dispositions which retard and cherish the second. The Holy Spirit, we have said in the second place, con- firms to us the promises of the gospel, by com- municating the grace of sanctification. What success can be expected from his gracious ef- forts to purify the heart, while you oppose the worka' Why have those gracious efforts hither- to produced, with regard to most of you, so little effect* Because you still oppose. Desi- rous to make you conscious of the worth of holiness, the Holy Spirit addresses you for that purpose in the most pointed sermons. In pro- portion as the preacher addresses the ear, the Holy Spirit inwardly addresses the heart, alarming it by that declaration, " The unclean «hall not inherit the kingdom of God," 1 Cor. vi. 10. But you have opposed his gracious work; you have abandoned the heart to irregu- lar affection; you have pursued objects calcu- lated to inflame concupiscence, or enkindle it with additional vigour. The Holy Spirit, desirous to humble the heart, exhibits the most mortifying portraits of your weakness, your ignorance, your dissipa- tion, your indigence, your mortality and cor- ruption, — a train of humiliating considerations in which your own character may be recognis- ed. But you have opposed his work; you have swelled your mind with every idea calculated to give plausibility to the sophisms of vanity; you have flattered yourselves with your birth, your titles, your dignities, your affected litera- ture, and imaginary virtues. Improve this thought, my brethren, confess your follies; yield to the operations of grace, which would reclaim you from the sins of the age, and make you partakers of the divine purity, in or- der to a participation of the divine felicity. Practise those virtues which the apostles so strongly enforced in their sermons, whicli they BO highly exemplified in their lives, and so powerfully pressed in their writings. Above all, my brethren, let us follow tlie emotions of that virtue which is the true test, by which the Lord knows his own people, I mean charity: such are the words of Ci)rist, which we cannot too attentively regard; " This is my commandment that ye love one another," John XV. 12. When I speak of charity, I would not only prompt you to share your superfluities with the indigent, and to do good oflices for your neighbours. Hut a man, who, when cele- brating the aimivcrsary of a day in which God's love was so abundantly shed upon the church, in which tiie C'hrislians bef-amo united by ties 80 tender, feels reluctance to afford these slight marks of the love we describe; — a man who, rapt up in his own sulficiency, and in the ideas he forms of his own grandeur, sees nothing worthy of himself in the religion God has pre- scribed, would, however, converse with his Maker, and receive his lienefits, but who shuts his door against his neighbours, abandons them in their poverty, trouble, and obscurity; — such a man, far from being a Christian, has not even a notion of Christianity. At the moment he congratulates himself with being distinguished from the rest of mankind by the seal of God, he has only the seal of tlie devil, — inflexibility and pride. On these days I would, my brethren, require concerning charity, marks more noble, and tests more infallible, than alms and good offices: I would animate you with the laudable ambi- tion of carrying charity as far as it was carried by Jesus Christ. To express myself in the lan- guage of Scripture, I would animate you to love your neighbour as Jesus Christ has loved you. In what way has Jesus Christ loved yoa' What was the grand object of his love to man? It was salvation. So also should the salvation of your neighbours be the object of your love. Be penetrated with the wretchedness of people " without hope, without God in the world," Eph. ii. 12. Avail yourselves of the prosperity of your navigation and commerce, to send the gospel into districts, where creatures made in the image of God, know not him that made them, but live in the grossest darkness of the pagan world. Be likewise impressed with the wretchedness of those, who, amid the light of the gospel, have their eyes so veiled as to exclude its lus- tre. Employ for the great work of reformation, not gibbets and tortures, not fire and fagot, but persuasion, instruction, and every means best calculated for causing the truth to be known and esteemed. Be touched with the miseries of people edu- cated in our own communion, and who believe what we believe; but who tlirough the fear of man, through worldly-mindedness, and aston- ishing hardness of heart, are obstructed from following the light. Address to them the clo- sest exhortations. Offer them a participation of your abundance. Endeavour to move tiiem towards the interests of their cliildren. Pray for them; pray for the peace of Jerusalem; pray that God would raise the ruins of our temples: that he would gather the many scat- tered flocks; pray him to reinvigorate tlie Chris- tian blood in these veins, which seems destitute of heat and circulation. Pray him, my fellow- countrymen, that he would have pity on your country, in which one prejudice succeeds an- other. Be afthcted witii the affliction of Jo- seph, be mindful of your native land. 3. We have said lastly, that the Holy Spirit confirms the promise of celestial felicity, by a communication of its foretastes here below to highly-favoured souls. On this subject, I seem suspended between the fear of giving counte- nance to enthusiasm, and of suppressing one of the most consolatory trutlis of tlie Cliristian re- ligion. It is, however, a fact, that there are highly-favoured souls, to whom the Holy Spirit confirms tho promises of celestial happiness, by a communication of its foretastes here on earth. Ser. LXXXVII.] THE FAMILY OF JKSUS CHRIST. 313 By foretastes of celestial happiness, I mean the impression made on the mind of a Chris- tian, of tiie siiiferest piety, by this consolatory thought; "My soul is immortal: deatii, which seems to terminate, only cliangcs the mode of my existence: my body also shall jiarticipate of eternal life; the dust shall be reanimated, and its scattered particles collected into a glo- rious form." By foretastes of celestial happiness, I mean, the unshaken confidence a Christian feels, even when assailed with doubts, — when op|)ressed with deep aflliction, and surrounded with the veil of death, whicli conceals tiie objects of his hope: this assurance enables him to say, " I know in whom i have believed, and I am per- suaded he is able to keep that which I have committed unto him against that day," 2 Tim. i. 12. " I know that my Redeemer liveth, and that he shall stand at the latter day upon the earth. And though after my skin worms de- stroy this body, yet in my flesh shall I see God," Job xix. 25, 26. "O God, though thou slay me, yet will I trust in thee. Though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil," I's. xxii. 4. " I liave set the Lord always before me; because ho is on my right hand, I shall not bo moved," Ps. .xvi. 8. By foretastes of celestial happiness, I mean, the delights of glorified saints in heaven, which some find while dwelling on earth; when far from the multitude, secluded from care, and conversing with the blessed God, they can ex- press themselves in these words, " My soul is satisfied with marrow and fatness, when I re- member thee upon my bed, and meditate upon thee in the night watches," Ps. Ixiii. 5, 6. "Our conversation is in heaven," Phil. iii. 20. By foretastes of celestial happiness, I mean, the impatience which some of the faithful feel, to terminate a life of calamities and imperfec- tions; and the satisfaction they receive every evening on reflecting that another day of their pilgrimage is passed; that they are one step nearer to eternity. " In this tabernacle we groan, earnestly desiring to be clothed upon with our house which is from heaven," 2 Cor. V. 2. " My desire is to depart, and to be with Christ," Phil. i. 23. Why is his chariot so long in coming? Why do his coursers proceed so slow? " VViicn shall I come and appear be- fore God," Ps. xl. 2. My brethren, in what language have I been speaking? How few understand it! To how many does it seem an unknown tongue! But we have to blame ourselves alone if we are not anointed in this way, and sealed by the Holy Ghost; and if we do not ])articipate in these foretastes of eternity, which are the genuine earnests of heaven. But ah! our ta.sle is spoil- ed in the world. We have contracted the low habits of seeking happiness solely in the recrea- tions of the ago. Most, even of those who con- form to the precepts of piety, do it by con- straint. We obey God, merely because he is God. We feel not the unutterable sweetness in these appellations of Father, Friend, and Benefactor, under which he is revealed by re- ligion. We do not conceive that his sole ob- ject, with regard to man, is to make him hap- py. But the world, — the world, — is the object Vol. II.— 10 which attracts the heart, and the heart of the best nmongst us. Let ns then love the world, seeing it has pleased (Jod to unite ns to it by ties so tender. Let us endeavour to advance our families, to add a little lustre to our name, and some con- sJKlency to what is denominated fortune. But O! after all, let us regard these things in their true light. Let us rcfollcct that, upon earth, man can only have transient ha|)pincss. My fortune is not essential to my felicity; the lustre of my name is not essential to my felicity; the estahlisliinent of my family is not essential to my felicity; and, since none of these things are essential to my hapj)iness, the great God, the lieing supremely gracious, has without the least violation of his goodness, left them in the uncertainty and vicissitude of all sublunary bliss. But njy salvation, my salvation, is far above the vicissitudes of life. "The mountains shall depart, and the hills be moved; but my kindness shall not depart from thee, neither shall the covenant of my peace be removed," Isa. liv. 10. "Lift up your eyes to the hea- vens, and look upon the earth beneath: for the heavens shall vanish away like smoke, and the earth shall wax old like a garment; but my sal- vation shall be for ever, and my righteousness shall not be abolished," Isa. li. 6. May God indulge our hope, and crown it with success. Amen. SERMON LXXXVII. THE FAMILY OF JESUS CHRIST. Matthew xii. 46 — 50. While he yet talked to the people, behold his mo- ther, and his brethren stood tcitliout, desiiing to S])eak ^cith him. Then one said nnto him, be- hold, thy mother, and thy brethren stand icith- out, desiring to speak n-ilh thee. But he an- siccred and said unto him that told him, Who is my mother? And who arc my brethren? And he stretched forth his hand towards his disciples, and said, Jkhold my mother, and my brethren. For whosoercr shall do the irill of my Father n-hich is in heaven, the same is my brother, and sister, and mother. Hk " said unto his father and to his mother, I have not seen him; neither did he acknow- ledge his brethren, nor know his own children," Deut. xxxiii. 9. So Moses said of the tribe of Levi. Was it to reproach, or applaud? Fol- lowing the fiist impression of this sentence, it contains undoubtedly a sharp rebuke, and a deep reproach. In what more unfavourable light could we view the Lévites: What became of their natural alfection, on disowning the persons to whom they were united by ties So tender, on plunging their weapons in the breasts of those who gave them birth? But raising the mind sufwrior to flesh and blood, if you consider the words as connected with the occasion to which they refer, you will find an illustrious character of those ministers of the living Gm\; and one of the finest pane- gyrics which mortals ever received. Nature and religion, it is admitted, require us to love our neighbour, especially tho meu- 314 TIIK FAMILY OF JESUS CHRIST. [Ser. LXXXVII. bera of our families, as ourselves; and if we may so speak, as our own substance. But if it be a duty to love our neighbour, it is not less adtiiissible, that we ought to " love God with all our heart, with all our soul, and with all our mind." In fact we ought to love God alone. Farther, our love to him ougiit to be the centre of every other love: when the latter is at variance with the former, God must have the preference; when we can no longer love father and motlier witiioiit ceasing to love God, our duty is determined; we must cease to love our parent», that our love may return to its centre. These were the dispositions of the Lévites. Obedient children, atfectionate bre- thren, they rendered to the persons to whom God had united them, every duty required by so close a connexion. But when those persons revolted against God, when they paid supreme devotion " to an ox that eateth grass," as the Psalmist says; when the Lévites received this commandment from God, their Lawgiver and Supreme; " Put every man his sword by his aide, and go in and out from gate to gate throughout the camp, and slay every man his brother; and every man his companion, and every man his neighbour," E.xod. xx.\ii. 27. Then the Lévites knew neither brother, nor friend, nor kinsman. By this illustrious zeal, they acquired tiie encomium, " He said to his father and his mother, I have not seen them; and to his brethren, and his children, I have not known them." My brcliireii, if we must break the closest ties witii those who dissolve the bonds of union with God, we ouglit to form the most intimate connexion witii tiiose who arc joined to him by the sincerest piety. Tlie degree of attacii- ment they liave for God, should proportion the degree of attachment we have for them. Of this disposition you have, in the words of my text, a model the most worthy of imitation. One apprised Jesus Christ, tiiat his mother and brethren requested to speak with him. " Who is my mother.' And who are my brethren?" re- plied he; " And stretching forth his hand to- wards his disciples, he said. Behold my mother, and my brethren, for whosoever shall do the will of my Father which is in heaven, the same is my brother, and sister, and mother." The nobility of this world, those men of whom the Holy Spirit somewhere says, " Men of high degree are a lie," have by this consi- deration been accustomed to enhance the dig- nity of their descent. Titles and dignities, say they, may be purchased with money, obtained by favour, or acquired by distinguished actions; but real nobility cannot be bought, it is trans- mitted by an illustrious succession of ancestors, which monarchs are unable to confer, ('hris- tian! obscure mortal! offscouring of the world! dust and ashes of the eartii, whose father was an Amorite, and whose mother was a flittite, the source of true nobility is opened to thee; it is thy exclusive prerogative, (and may the thought animate, with holy ambition, every one in this assembly!) it is thy exclusive pre- rogative to be admitted into the family of the blessed God. Take his moral perfections for thy model; and thou shalt have his glory for thy reward. To thee Jeaus Christ will extend his hand; to thee he will say, hero is my bro- ther, and mother, and sister. The Holy Spirit presents a double object in the words of my text. I. The family of Jesus Christ according to the flesh. II. The family of Jesus Christ according to the Spirit. "One said, thy mother, and thy brethren, desire to speak with thee." Here is the family of Jesus Christ according to the flesh. " Who is my mother.' and who are my brethren? Whosoever siiall do the will of my Father which is in heaven, the same is my brother, and sister, and mother." Here is the family of Jesus Christ according to the Spirit. Both these objects nujst be kept in view. I. The idea which our Divine Master has given us of this first family, will supersede our minuter efibrts to trace its origin. It is obvi- ous from what he has said, that our chief at- tention should be to develop the character of those who belong to his family, according to the Spirit, rather than to trace those who be- long to him according to the flesh. Whatever, therefore, concerns this Divine Saviour, claims, though not equal, at least some degree of at- tention. For we find in our researches con- cerning the family of Jesus Christ, according to the flesh, proofs of his being the true Mes- siah, and consequently information which con- tributes to the confirmation of our faith. There is no difficulty in determining con- cerning the identity of the person, called in my text, the mother of Jesus. The expression ougiit to be literally understood; it designates that holy woman, whose happiness all ages must magnify, she, by peculiar privilege, be- ing chosen of God to be "overshadowed by tiie Highest," to bear in her sacred womb, and bring into the world, the Saviour of men. She is called Mary, she was of the tril)e of Judah, and of the family of David. This is nearly all we know of her; and this is nearly all we ought to know, in order to recognise in our Jesus, one characteristic of the true Messiah, who, according to early predictions, was to de- scend of this tribe, and of this family. It is true that Cclsus, Porphyry, Julian, those execrable men, distinguished by their hatred of Christianity, have disputed even this: at least, they have defied us to prove it. They have insinuated, that there are so niiiny con- trarieties in the genealogies of St. Luke, and St. Matthew, concerning tlic ancestors of our Jesus, as to leave the pretensions of his descent from David, atid Judah, uncertain. It is to be regretted, that the manner in which some divines, and divines of distinguished name, have replied to this oi)jection, has, in fact, given it weight, and seemed the last efforts of a desperate cause, rather than a satisfactory solution. Is it a solution of this difficulty? is it a proof that Jesus descended from tiie family of David, as had been predicted, to say that the evange- lists insert the genealogy of Joseph, and omit that of Mary, Jesos Christ being reputed the son of a carpenter, and having been probably adopted by him, was invested with all his rights, the genealogy of tiie reputed father, anid the adopted son, being accounted the Ser. LXXXVII.] THE FAMILY OF JESUS CHRIST. 315 same, thougn of different extraction? Would not thia liavc been the way to flatter a lie, not to establish a truth? Did the prophets merely say, tiiat the Messiah was the reputed son of a man descended from David's line? Did lliey not say in a manner the most clear and ex- plicit in the world, that he was lineally de- scended from that family? Is it a solution of the dilficulty, to say that Mary was heiress of her house, that the heiresses were tjblifred by the law, to marry in their own tribe; and that givinp the genealogy of Joseph, was giving the genealogy of Mary, to whom he was be- trothed? Is it not ratlier a supposition of the point in dispute? And what record have we h.l't of Mary's family sufliciently authentic to prove it' la it a solution of the difficulty to say, that St. Matthew gives the genealogy of Christ, considered as a king, and St. Luke the gene- alogy of Christ, considered as a priest; that the one gives the genealogy of Mary, whom they pretend was of the tribe of Levi, which establishes the right of Christ to the high- priesthood; the other gives the genealogy of Joseph, descended from David's family, which tîstablishes his right to the kingdom' Is not this opjiosing the words of St. Paul witli a l>old front' " If perfection were by the Leviti- cal priesthood, what farther need was there that another priest should rise after the order of Melchisedec, and not to be called after the order of Aaron. For he of whom these things are spoken, pertaineth to another tribe, of which no man gave attendance at the altar; for it is evident that our Lord sprang out of Judah; of which Moses spake nothing concern- ing the priesthood after the similitude of Melchisedec there arises another priest, who is made, not after the law of carnal command- ments, but after the power of an endless life," Heb. vii. 11 — 13. These are the words of our apostle. Without augmenting the catalogue of mis- taken solutions of this difficulty, we shall at- tend to that which seema the only true one. It is this: St. Matthew gives the genealogy of Joseph, the reputed father of Jesus Christ, and he is so called in the second chapter, and for- ty-eighth verse of St. Luke. And it is very important, that posterity should know the family of the illustrious personage, to whose superintendence Providence had committed the Messiah in early life. St. Luke gives the genealogy of Mary, to identify that Jesus Christ had the essential characteristic of the Messiah, by his descent from David's family. It was also very impor- tant for posterity to know that he descended from David; that he had a right to the throne, not only as being the reputed son of one of his offspring, who could confer it by adoption; but also that being conceived by the Holy Ghost, and having for his motlier a woman de- scended from David, according to the flesh, he liimself descended from him, as much as it is possible for a being to descend, introduced so supernaturally into the world. According to what has been advanced, it may be objected, that there is no mention made of Riary in the latter genealogy, njore than in the former, that both conceru Joseph aloce; that St. Luke, whom wo presume to have given the genealogy of Mary, closes his cata- logue with the name of Joseph, as well as St. .Matthew, whom we allow to have given the genealogy of Mary's husband. Hut this objection can strike those only, who are unac(|uainted with the method uniformly adopted by the Jews, in giving liio genealogy of married women. They subslitulc^d the name of the husband for that of llie wife, consider- ing a man's son-in-law as his own offspring. According to this usage, which I could support by numerous authorities, these words of St. Luke, " Jesus began to be about thirty years of age, being, as was supposed, the son of Jo- seph, which was tJH? son of Heli," amount to this, "Jesus l>egan to be about thirty years of age, being, as was supposed, the son of Joseph, which was the son-in-law of Ileli," having be- trothed his daughter Mary. This is suflicient on the genealogy of Mary. But who are those called by the evangelist, brethren of Christ? " One said unto him," and these are tha words of my text, " Behold thy tnother, and thy brethren, stand without, de- siring to speak with thee." The opinion which has had the fewest parti- sans, and fewer still it merits (nor, should we notice it here, were it not to introduce a gene- ral remark, that there never was an opinion, how extravagant soever, but it found support- ers among the learned,) the opinion, I say, is that of some of the ancients-, they have ven- tured to affirm, that tlie persons called in my text, tile brethren of C'hrist, were sons of the holy virgin, by a former husband. To name this opinion is sufficient for its refutation. The conjecture of some critics, though less extravagant, is equally far from truth; they presume, that the brethren of Christ were sons of Joseph: a single remark will supersede this notion. Four persons are called the brethren of Christ, as appears from Matt. xiii. 54; it is there said, that his acquaintance, the people of Nazareth, talked of him in this way; "Whence hath this man this wisdom, and these mighty works? Is not this the carpenter's son? Is not his mother called Mary? and his brethren, James, and Joscs, and Simon, and Judas? Thia James is unquestionably the same who is called the less. Now it is indisputable that he was the son of Mary, who was living at our Sa- viour's death: she was sister to the holy virgin, and stood with her at the foot of the cross dur- ing the crucifixion. Hence, if James were the son of Joseph, he must have been betrothed to the holy virgin, while married to her sister, who was living when l>e contracted his second marriage, which is insupportable. Let us, therefore, follow here the general course of interpreters. The name of brethren, is not always used in the strictest sense by the sacred authors. It is not peculiarly applied to those who have the same father and the same mother: it frequently refers to the relatives less connected. In this sense we use it here. Mary, the wife of Cleophas, was sister to the holy virgin; and the term sister the evangelists apply in the closest sense. She had four sons, above named, and they are called the brethren of Christ, because they were his cousins-ger- man. She had two daughters, who for the 316 THE FAMILY OF JESUS CHRIST. [Ser. LXXXVII. same reasons, arc called his sisters. If this hy- pothesis be aitendcd with some dilKculties, this is not till' place for tlieir removal. It was a most ylorions consideration to the holv virgin, to James, to Judas, to Joses, to Siinoii, and to their sister, to be so nearly re- lated to .lesus {'lirist in the ilesh. How ho- nournble to say, tliis man, whose sermons arc so sublime, — this man, whoso voice inverts the laws of nature, — this man, whom winds, seas, and elements obey, — is my brother, is my son! So the woman exclaimed, after hearini,' him so conclusively refute tiie artful interrogations of his enemies. "Blessed is the womb that bare thee, and the paps which thou hast suck- ed." But how superior are tiie ties, which unite the family of Jesus Christ according to the Spirit, to those which unite them accord- ing to the tlcsli! So he said to tiie woman above named, " Yea, rather blessed are they that hear the word of God and keep it," Luke xi. 21, 28. In my text, when ap[)rized that his most intimate relations, in the Hesh, desir- ed an audience, he acknowledged none to be of his family but the spiritually noble. " Be- hold thy mother, and thy brethren," said one, "stand without, desiring to speak with thee. Who is my mothei? and who are my brethren?" replied he, "and he stretched forth his hand towards his disciples, and said, behold my mo- ther, and my brethren. For whosoever shall do the will of my Father which is in heaven, the same is my brother, and sister, and mo- ther." This we shall proceed to illustrate in the second part of our discourse. II. Our Saviour did not, in these words, de- sign to exclude from his spiritual family all those who belonged to his family in the tlesh. Who can entertain any doubt but that the holy virgin, who belonged to the latter, did not also belong to the former? Whoever carried to greater perfection than this holy woman, piety, humility, obedience to the divine precepts, and every other virtue which has distinguished saints of the highest order? The Scriptures afford also various examples of the love of Mary, the wife of Cleophas, to Jesus Christ. She followed him to Jerusalem when he went up to consummate the grand sa- crifice, for which ho came into the world; siie stood at the foot of the cross with the holy vir- gin, when he actually otlcred up himself; she went to water his tomb with her tears, when apprized of his nsurrcctiim. As to those whom the evangelists call the brethren of Clirist, J confess, that to him they were not equally devoted. St. John atlirms ex- pressly, "That his brctliren did not believe in liim," John vii. 5. I'.ut whetlier we may take this assertion in a more extended sense than in the text: or whether St. .loim s|)ake of the early period of our Saviour's ministry; certain it is, that among the four persons here called the brethren nf"ciirixl, all of Ibem had received the seeds of piety, and avowed his cause; as I could prove, if the limits of this discourse would- per- mit. If, therefore, Jesus Christ designated none as the members of his spiritual family, but those who were then recognised as his disciples, it was not intended to exclude his relatives according to the flesh, but to mark that the former then afforded more distinguished evidences of their faith and devotion to the will of his Father. Neither was it our Saviour's design, — when he seemed to disown his brethren, and his mo- ther, |)roperly speaking, — to detach us from persons to whom we are united by consangui- nity, and to supersede the duties required by those endearing connexions. By no means: those affectionate fathers, who have invariably sought the happiness of their children; — those children, who, animated with gratitude, after sharing the indulgence of a father during his vigour, become, when age has chilled his blood, and enfeebled his reason, the support of his de- clining years; — those brothers who afibrd ex- amples of union and concord, — are actuated by the religion of Jesus Christ. The laws of na- ture ought, in this view, to have a preference to the laws of grace. I would say, that, al- though religion may unite us more closely to a pious stranger, than to an impious father, I think it the duty of a child to bestow more care in cherishing a wicked father, than a deserving stranger. What our Saviour would say in the text is, that though he had a family according to the flesh, he had also a preferable family according to the Spirit; and that the members of his spi- ritual fan)ily are more closely united to him than the members of his natural household. Of this spiritual family I proceed to speak. And I have further to say, my dear brethren, that I would associate you in this spiritual family, in the latter period of tliis discourse. Condescend to follow us in the few remarks we have yet to make. We will show, 1. The nature, and 2. Tlie strength of this family connexion. 3. Its effects; or to speak with more propriety, its wonders. 4. Its superior felicity. 5. The per- sons it includes. 1. The nature of this relation consists insin- cere obedience to the will of God. " Whosoever shall do the will of my Father, the same is my brother, and sister, and mother." Here we have two extremes to avoid: the one is the forming of too severe an idea, the other of con- ceiving notions too relaxed, of this disposition of heart. Do not, therefore, conceive too severe an idea of obedience. I do not mean, that devotion to the will of God can ever be carried too far. No! though you were ready, like Abraham, to iuunolate an only son; though you had such exalted views of "the recompense of the re- ward," that, like Moses, you would prefer the reproach of Christ to Egypt and its treasures; though you had the fervourof Elijah, the piety of Uavid, the zealof Josiah, the atfection of St. John, and the energy of St. Peter; though you were all ready, like the cloud of witnesses men- tioned in the epistle to the Hebrews, to be stoned, to be slain, to endure cruel torments, to be killed with the sword, to wander about in sheep-skins, and in goat-skins, in deserts and mountains, in dons and caves of the earth, you would not exceed a due devotion to the will of God. But though it is not possible to carry this dis- position too far, it is, nevertheless, possible to exaggerate that degree which constitutes us members of the Saviour's spiritual family. He knows whereof we are made. Religion is not Ser. LXXXVII.] THE FAlvnLY OF JESUS CHRIST. 317 for angels, but for men; and, however holy men may be, their virtues always participate of tlie infirmities iiisei)arable from human nature. Those (li.sciples, towards whom Jesus Christ extended his hand, committed, during the early period of tlicir piety, faults, and great faults too. They sometimes misconceived the object of their mission; sometimes distrusted his promises; they were sometimes slow of heart to believe the facts announci.'d by the proplicis; they once slept when they ought to have sustained tlieir Master in his agony; they abandoned hini to his e.vecutioners; and one denied knowing him, oven with an oath, and that he was his disciple. Virtue, even the most sincere and i)crfect, is liable to wide deviations, to total eclipses, and great faults: — iience, on this subject, you should avoid too severe a standard. But you should equally avoid forming of it notions too relaxed. Do you claim kindred with the spiritual family of Jesus Christ.' Do you claim the same intimacy with the Saviour which a man has with his brother, his sister, and his mother.' Tremble then, wiiile you hear these words of St. Paul, "What fellowship hath righteousness with unrighteousness.' what com- munion hath light witii darkness; and what con- cord hath Christ witli Belial.'" 2 Cor. vi. 1-1, 15. Tremble while )'ou hear these words of Christ, " No man can serve two masters," jMatt. vi. - !. Or, to unfold to you a more detailed held of reflection, do you not exceedingly mistake con- cerning obedience to the will of God.' The will of God not only requires negative virtues, which consist in abstaining from evil; but positive virtues also, wiiich consist not in a mere refraining from slander, but in reprehend- ing the slanderer; — not in a mere refusal to re- ceive your neiglibour's goods, but in a commu- nication of your own; — not only in abstaining from blasphemy against God, but also in bless- ing him at all times, and in having your mouth full of his praise. The will of God not only requires of you popular virtues, as sincerity, fidelity, courage, and submission to the laws, are generally ac- counted; it also requires those very virtues which are degraded by the world, and consi- dered as a weakness; sucii as forgiveness of in- juries, and contempt of worldly pomp. The will of God not only requires virtues cor- respondent to your temperature, as retirement, if you are naturally sullen and reserved; absti- nence from pleasure, if you are naturally ])eii- sivo and dull; patience, if you arc naturally phlegmatic, heavy and indolent: it likewise re- quires virtues tiie most opposite to your tem- perature; as purity, if you are inclined to con- cupiscence; moderation, if you are of an angry disposition. The will of God requires, not mutilated vir- tues, but a constellation of virtues, approaching to perfection. It rccpiires "whatsoever things are pure, whatsoever tilings are lovely; if there be any virtue, and if there be any praise, that you should think on these," Phil. iv. S. It re- quires you to add, " to faith, virtue; to virtue, knowledge; and to knowledge, temperance; and to temperance, patience; and to patience, god- liness; and to godliness, brotherly-kindness; and to brotlierly-kindness, charity," 2 Pet. i. 5 — 7. The will of God requires not an immaturity of virtue, checked in its growth; it requires you to carry, or endeavour to carry, every virtue to the highest degree; to have perfection for your end, and Jesus Clirist for your pattern. -'. and 3. After having reviewed the nature, and consequently the excellency of this con- nexion, let us next consider its strength. What we shall say on this head, naturally turns our thoughts towards its prodigies and elFects. The power of this connexion is so strong, that the metnbers of this spiritual family are incompara- bly more closely united to one another, than tiie members of a carnal family. This is ob- vioiis in the words of my text. Our Saviour has borrowed figures from whatever was most endearing in civil society, and even from con- nexions of the most opposite nature, in order to elevate our ideas of the union which subsists between him and the members of his family; and of the union they have one witii another: " Whosoever shall do the will of my Father which is in heaven, the same is my brother, and sister, and mother. In this idea there is no exaggeration. Associate whatever is most en- dearing between a brother and brother; between a brother and a sister; between a child and a parent; associate the whole of these different parts in one body, and imagine, if it be possible to conceive an object still more closely united, than the dilR-rent parts of tliis body; and your views will still be imperfect of tiie ties which subsist between tlie members of Jesus Christ's spiritual family. They have in common, first a union of de- sign. In all their actions they individually have in view nothing but tlie glory of that Sovereign whom they serve with emulation; and to whom they are all unanimously devoted. Tiiey have, secondly, a union of inclination. God is the centre of their love; and being thus united to him, as the tlilrd (if I may borrow an idea from the schoolmen,} they are united one to another. Thirdly, they have a union of interest. They arc all equally interested to see the government of the universe in the hands of their Sovereign. His hai)piness constitutes their felicity, and each equally aspires after communion with the blessed God. They have, fourthly, a union coeval in its existence. Go back to the ages preceding the world, and you will see the members of this spiritual family united in the bosom of divine mercy; — even from the moment they were dis- tinguished as the objects of his tenderest love, and most distinguished grace; even from the moment the victim was appointed to be immo- lated in sacrifice for their sins. Descend to the present period of the world: let us say more; — look forward to futurit)', and you will find them ever miited, in the noble design of incessantly glorifying the Author of their existence and felicity. 1 lence you sec the prodigies produced by this connexion. You see what Jesus Christ has done for those who are united in devotion to his Father's will. His incarnation, his passion, his cross, his Spirit, his grace, his intercession, his kingdom, — nothing is accounted too precious for men, joined to him by those tender and en- dearing ties. You see likewise, what the men united to 318 THE FAMILY OF JESUS CHRIST. [Ser. LXXXVII. Jesus Christ are qualified to do one for another: they are all of one heart and one soul, and are ever ready to make the mutual sacrifices of be- nevolence and love. 4. The ties which connect the members of Jesus Christ's family are not less hajjpy than strong. Connexions merely human, however endearingr, however delightful, are invariably accompanied with anguish. What anguish must attend a connexion cemented with vice! What painful sensations, even in the midst of a. criminal course! What remorse on reflection and thought: What horror on viewing the consequences of unlawful pleasures! On say- ing to one's self, the recollection of this inter- course will pierce me in a dying hour; this un- happy person, with whom 1 am now so closely connected, will be my tormentor for ever! What anguish is attended even on friend- sliip the most innocent, when extended too far! Delightful connexions, formed on earth by con- genial souls, cemented by the intercourse of mutual love, and crowned with prosperity: delightful bonds which connect a father willi a son, and a son with a father; a wife with a husband, and a husband with a wife; what re- gret you produce, when death, the allotted period, or end of man, and of all human com- forts, — what regret you cost, — when death compels us to dissolve these ties! Witness so many Josephs attending their fatliers to the tomb, who had been the glory of their families. Witness so many Rachels " refusing to be comforted because their children are not," Matt. xi. 18. Witness so many Davids, wlio exclaim with excess of grief, " O, my son Absalom — my son, my son Absalom — would to God I had died for thee — O Absalom, my son, my son! ! !" 2 Sam. xviii. 33. But in the ties which connect the family of Jesus Christ, there is no mixture of anguish. This you may infer from what we have ad- vanced; and your own reflections may supply the scanty limits in which we are obliged to comprise this point. 6. We shall lastly consider the persons con- nected by the bonds of obedience to the will of God. The family of Jesus Christ consist of a selec- tion of all the excellent in heaven and in eartli. So St. Paul has expressed himself, "Of whom the whole parentage," or as the text may be read, " Of whom the whole family in heaven and in earth is named," Eph. iii. 15. On earth, the family of Jesus is not distinguished by the greatness of its number: and to the shame of the human kind, there is a father whose family is far more numerous than the Saviour's: this father is the devil. And who are the children of the devil.' To this question Jesus Christ has given us a key. He said, when speaking to the Pharisees, " Ye are of your father tlie devil, and the lusts of vour fa- ther ye will do; he was a miinlorer from the beginning, and abode not in the truth; he is a liar, and tiio father of it," John viii. 44. These are the two characteristics of his children; lying and murder. 1. Lying. If you betray the truth, if you employ your genius, your wit, your knowledge, to embarrass the truth, instead of employing them for the acquisition of self-knowledge, and a communication of the truth to others; if we become your enemy when we tell you the truth, when we combat your prejudices, when we attack your errors, when we endeavour to irradiate your minds, and to take the lamp of revelation from beneath the bushel; if this is your characteristic, recognise in yourselves this trait of your father, which is lying, for he is " the father of a lie;" and take to yourselves this awful declaration, " Ye are of your father the devil." -. He is a murderer; and to hate our neigh- bour is, according to the language of Scripture, to kill him; for " he that lialeth his brother," as St. John has decided, " is a murderer," John iii. 15. Yes, if you obstruct your neigh- bour's happiness; if you are envious at his prosperity: if you are irritated by his virtues; if mortified by his reputation; if you take de- light in aggravating his real faults, and in the imputation of imaginary defects, recognise another trait of your father; apply to yourselves this awful assertion, which so many may apply with propriety, " Ye are of your father the devil." It is nevertheless true, that how numerous soever the children of the devil may be on the earth, Jesus Christ has a family among men: and it is composed of those who believe, those whom a sincere faith has invested with the privilege of considering themselves, according to St. John, as members of the family of God: " To as many as received him, to them gave he power," which I would render right, prero- gative, privilege, " to become the sons of God." The branches of God's spiritual family are not always visible to the eyes of tlie flesh, but they are to the eyes of the spirit; they are not always objects of sense, but they are objects of faith, which assures us of the continued ex- istence of a holy church. Sometimes the fury of persecution, which prevents us from per- ceiving them, drives them into deserts, and causes them to take refuge in dens and caves of the earth. Sometimes the prevalence of calumny paints their character in shades dark as hell, calls their moderation indolence, their meekness cowardice, their modesty meanness of mind, their firmness obstinacy, their hope a chimera, their zeal illusion and enthusiasm. Sometimes it is the veil of humility by which they conceal their virtues, and which causes them to be confounded with persons who have no virtue, and to be less esteemed than persons whose virtues are aflected. " Their kingdom" invaiiably " is not of this world: Now are we the sons of God, and it doth not appear what we shall be. We jire dead, and our life is hid with Christ in God," John xviii. 36; 1 John iii. •2; Col. iii. 3. But tiiough the members of this spiritual family are not always visible, the reality of their existence is not diminished. On their account the world exists. Their prayers stay tlie avenging arm of an angry God, and save the guilty world from being crushed beneath the stroke: for their sakes he sometimes miti- gates the calamities, with which human crimes oblige him to visit the nations. It is their en- treaties which cause their God and Redeemer speedily to descend, and which hasten the happy day that is the object of their wishes, and subject of their prayers, " Come, Lord Jesus — come quickly." Ser. LXXXVII.] THE FAMILY OF JESUS CHRIST. 310 And if the family of Jesus Christ is " named on earth," it is more especially named in hea- ven. There it exists, there it sliines in all its lustre. Hut who are the members of this family of Jesus Christ? They are " the redeemed out of every kindred, and tonjfue, and people, and nation." They are the ambassadors of tiie gua- pel, who have " turned many unto righteous- ness; they shine as the brijjhtness of tlio firma- ment, and as stars" of the first magnitude. They are martyrs, come up out of great tribulation, they are " clothed in white robes, which they have washed in the blood of the Lamb." They are all saints, who having fought under his banner, participate the laurels of his victory. They arc angels who excel in strength, and obey his voice. They are winged clierubim, who fly at his command. They are seraphim burning with his love. They are the thousand millions which serve him, and ten thousand millions which stand before him. They are the " great multitude, whoso voice is in the sound of many waters," and whose obedience to God is crowned with glory; but they cast their crowns before the throne, and cry con- tinually, " Hallelujaii — let us be glad and re- joice, and give glory unto him." Sucli is the spiritual family of Jesus Christ, and such is the Christian family. Many of its members lie scattered in different parts of the earth, but the part which is most numerous, excellent, and consummate in virtue, is in heaven. What a consolation! But language is too weak! What a consolation to the be- liever, against whom old age, infirmities, and sickness have pronounced the sentence of death! What a consolation to say " My family is in heaven; a gulf separates me, but it is not like the gulf wliich separates tiie damned from the glorified spirits, of which Abraham said to the rich man, " between us and you there is a great gulf fixed." It is a gulf whose darkness is en- lightened by faith, whose horrors are assuaged by hope; — it is a gulf througli which we are cheered and animated by the voice of Christ; — a gulf from which one final struggle shall in- stantly make us free. Death is sometimes represented to me under an idea happily calculated to assuage its an- guish. There is not one of you, who has at- tained maturity of age, but has frequently seen those persons snatched away by death, who constituted the greatest happiness of your life. This is inevitably the lot of those to whom God accords, the jirecious shall 1 say? or the sad privilege of running the race of life. They live, but they see tliose daily taken away, whose company attached them to life. I look on death as reuniting me to those persons, whose loss had occasioned me so many tears during my pilgrimage. I represent myself as arriving in heaven and seeing tliis friend running to meet me, to whom my soul was united as the soul of David to Jonathan. I imagine myself as presented to those ancestors, whose memory is so revered, and whose example is so worthy of imitation. I represent those children as coming before me, whose death affected me with a bitter anguish which continued all my days: with those innocent creatures 1 see my- self surrounded; whom God, to promote their happiness, resumed by an early death. This idea of death, and of the felicity which follows, is extremely delightful; and I do most sincerely believe it; at least I have never yet mot with a thought, which could dissuade me from thinking that the glorified saints shall enjoy, in heaven, the society of those with whom they have been so intimately connected on earth. Hut how real and pleasing soever tills tliought may be, it is, my dear brethren, far too contracted. Let us form more exalted notions of the happiness God has prepared for us. Our family is in heaven, but not exclu- sively composed of the small circle of friends of whom we have been deprived by death. Re- collect what we have just said. Our family is composed of the redeemed "out of every kin- dred, and tongue, and people, and nation;" — of the amba-ssadors of the gospel, " who have turned many to righteousness, who shine aa the brightness of the firmament, and as the stars for ever and ever:" — of martyrs, " who came up out of great tribulation, who have washed their robes, and made them white in the blood of the Lamb." Our family is composed of those illustrious saints, who have fought under the banner of Christ, and they now sit down on his throne. Farther, our family is composed of those "angels that excel in strength, and obey the voice of God:" — of those cherubim which fly at his command. Our family is composed of those thousand, thousand millions, and ten thousand millions which stand before him, and cast their crowns before the throne of Him who conferred the dignity upon them, crying continually, " Hal- lelujah, let us be glad and rejoice, and give glory unto him!" Jesus Christ is the first-bom of this household; God, who is all and in all, is head of the whole: these are the beings to whom we are about to be united by death. What a powerful consolation against the fear of death! What an abundant remunera- tion of delight, for tlie privation of persons, whose memory is so dear! O my friends, my children, and all of you, who have during my abode on earth, been the objects of my tender- est and most ardent attachment; — you, who after having contributed to my happiness during life, come again and surround my dying bed, receive the final tests of an attachment, which should never be less suspected than in tliese last moments; — collect the tears, which the pain of parting induces me to shed; — see, in the anguish of my last farewell, all that my heart has felt for you. But do not detain me any longer upon earth; sufter me at the moment when I feel my loss, to estimate my gain; allow me to fix my regards on those ever-during connexions I am about to form; — on the angels who are going to convey my soul to the bosom of God; — on the innu- merable multitudes of the blessed, among whom I am going to reside, and with whose voices I am going to join in everlasting praises to my God and Saviour. Among the transports excited by objects so elating, if any wish yet remain, it is to see you speedily associated with me, in the same so- ciety, and participating the same felicity. May heaven hear diy prayer! To God be honour aiM glory for ever. Amen. 320 ST. PETER'S DENIAL OF HIS MASTER. [Ser. LXXXVIIL SERMON LXXXVIIL ST. PETER'S DENIAL OF HIS MASTER. Matt. xxvi. 69, &c. Luke xxii. 61, &c. Abu? Peter sat xvitlwut in the palace; and a dam- sel caitu unto Idm, saying, Thou also icasl with Jesus of Galilee. But he denied before them all, saying, I know not what thousayest. .'hid tvhen he was gone out into the porch, another maid saw him, and said unto them that were there, This fdlow was also with Jesus of .Aa- zarelh. Jlnd again he denied with an oath, 1 do not know the man. Jlnd after a ichilc came u7Uo him them thai stood by, and said to Peter, surely thou also art one of them, fur thy speech helraijcth thee. Then began he to curse and to sioear, sai/mg, I know not the man. And im- mediately while he yet spake, the cock crew. Jlnd tlie Lord turned, and looked upon Peter; and Peter remembered the icord of the Lord, how he had said xmto him. Before the cockcrow, thou shall deny me thrice. And Peter went out, and xoept bitterly. It is laudable, my brethren, to form noble designs, to be immovable at the presence of danger, and to cherish dignity of sentiment and tliought. This virtue distinguishes the heroes of our age; it equally distinguishes the lieroes of religion and piety. Tliey defy tlic whole universe to shake tlieir faitii; amid the greatest dangers, tliey adopt this language of triumph: " What sliall separate us from the love of Christ? Sliall tribulation, or distress, or persecution, or famine, or nakedness, or peril, or the sword? Nay, in all these things we are more than conquerors, through him that hath loved us," Horn. viii. 34, 35. liut how laudable soever tliis disposition may be, it ought to be restricted; it degene- rates into prcsumi)tion when carried to ox- tremcs. Many, by not knowing how to ])ro- portion their strength to tlieir courage, liave fallen in tiio day of trial, and realized the very maxim, " They that love tiie danger, shall pe- rish by the danger." This is exemplified in the person of St. Peter. His heart, glowing with attaciiment to his Master, every tiling was promised from his zeal. Seeing Jesus on the waters, he solicited permission to walk like the Saviour; but feeling liis feet sink beneath the surface of the unstable element, he dis- trusted either the power or tlie fidelity of his Master; and unless he had been supported by his com|)assionalo arms, he had made ship- wreck, to ex|)ress myself with St. Paul, both of his failli and iiis lite togetiier. Seeing Jesus led away to the high-priest's house, he follow- ed without hesitation, and resolved to follow even to the cro.ss. Here, likewise, on seeing the Jews irritated, tlie soldiers armed, and a thousand terrific apjiearances of death, he sav- ed his lifo by a liase denial; and, unless his wavering faiih hatl been restored by a look from his Lord, the bonds of union had been totally dis.solv(!d. Li the examination of this history, we sliall SCO first, tlio tow:i!»ii(;e of an apostle, who yielded, for the moment, to the force of temp- tation. We shall sec, secondly, Jesus Christ vancjuishing the enemy of our salvation, and depriving him of his prey, by a single glance of his eyes. We shall see, lastly, a penitent re- covering from his fall: and replying, by his tears, to the cxj)ressive looks of Jesus Christ: — three inexhaustible sources of reflection. We shall consider, first, the fall of St. Pe- ter; and it will appear deplorable, if we pay attention to the object w^hich excited his fear, and to the circumstances with which it was connected. The object which excited his fear, was mar- tyrdom. Let us not magnify the standard of moral ideas. The fear of martyrdom is inse- parable from human weakness. The most des- perate diseases afford some fluctuating hopes of recovery; which diminish the fears of death. It is an awful thing for a man to see the period of his death precisely fixed, and within the dis- tance of a day, an hour, a moment. And if it is awful to approach a death, obvious (so to speak) to our view, how much more awful, when that death is surrounded with tortures, with racks, with pincers, with caldrons of boil- ing oil, and all those instruments invented by superstitious zeal and ingenious malice. If, however, tiiere ever were occasions to deplore the weakness of man, it is on account of the fears excited by the idea of martyrdom. Fol- low us then while we illustrate this assertion. That men must die, is one of the most cei> tain and evident propositions ever advanced. Neither vice nor virtue, neitiier religion nor infidelity, nor any consideration, can dispense with this common lot of man. Were a system introduced teacliing us the art of living for ever on the earth, we siiould undoubtedly be- come our own enemies, by immolating the hope of future felicity, for a life of such in- quietude as tliat wc should enjoy on the earth. And if tiiere had been such a life, perhaps we should have been base enough to give it the preference of our religious hope. If it had failed in securing the apjirobation of the mind, it would, at least, have interested the concu- piscence of the heart. ]5ut whatever is our o[)inion, die wc must; tliis is an indisputable fact, wliicii no one dares to disjiute. Prudence, unable to avert the execution of the sentence, should be employed in disarming its terrors: destitute of all hope of escaping death, we ought to employ all our prudence in the choice of that kind of death, whicii is most su]>i)ortable. And what is tiiere in the severest suflerings of martyrs, which is not preferable to tlie death wo expect from nature? If I consider dcatii as an abdication of all I enjoy, and as an impenetrable veil, wiiich conceals tiie objects of sense, I see nothing in the death of the mar- tyr, that is not common to every otlier kind of deatii. To die on a bed, to die on a scaffold, is equally to leave tiie world; and the sole dif- ference is, that tlie martyr (iuding nothing but troubles, gibbets, and crosses, in this life, de- taclics himself witii less diiliculty thiin the other, who dies surrouiuled by inviting ol)jecLs. If I consider dealii, with regard to the |)ains which precede and attend its ap]>roach, I con- fess it requires (-0111:1^0 more than human, to 1)0 unmoved at tiic tcirilic ai)paiatus exposed to the eyes of a martyr. But, if we except Ser. LXXXVIII.] ST. PETER'S DENIAL OF HIS MASTER. 321 eome peculiar cases, in which the tyrants have had the barbarity to prohms; the Hvcs of tiie BuflTerers, in order to extend their torments, there are few sudden deatlis, vvliich are not at- tended with loss pain tluin natural death. There are few death-beds, wiiicli do not exhi- bit scenes more tragic than tiie scalFold. Pain is not more supportable, because it has syni|)- toins less striking; nor arc afflictions the less severe, because they are interior. If I consider death, with reonds. — It was the sulnluer of the heart, the omnipotent God, rejiressing the crtbrts of the devil, and depriving him of his prey. 1. It was the man of griefs, complaining of a new burden, added to that, under the pres- sure of which he already groaned. — We can- not doubt but the denial of St. Peter, augment- ed the passion of Jesus Christ. A wound is the more severely felt, in proportion as the inflict- ing hand is dear to us. We are not astonished to see an enemy turn his rage against us; the case is common. But when we find perfidy, where we expected fidelity, and where we had cause to expect it; and when it is a friend who betrays us, the anguish of the thougiit is dilli- cult to sustain. So it was with Jesus Christ. That the Jewish populace were armed against him, was not surprising; they knew him not. That the Pharisei;s should solicit his death is less astonishing; he had exclaimed against their sins. That the Roman soldiers should join the Jews, is not surprising; they considered him as the enemy of Cesar. That the priests should accelerate his condemnation, is no marvel; they thought they were avenging Moses and the prophets. But that St. Peter, who ought to liave supported him in his anguish, should ag- gravate it; — that he, who ougiit to have attest- ed his innocence, should deny him; — that he, who ought to have extended his hand to wipe away his tears, should, in some sort, lend his arm to assassins; — it was tiiis which pierced the Saviour's soul, .and caused this reproachful glance of his eyes on St. Peter. 2. It was the compassionate Redeemer, pity- ing a soul on the verge of destruction. One trait we cannot sufficiently admire, that during our Saviour's piission; that amid the severest sutlerings, he was less concerned for himself, than for the salvation of those for whom he sutlered. Some days before his death, he was employed in supporting the disciples against tiic scandal of the cross. In the admirable prayer, addressed to tlio Fatiier, he in some sort, forgot himself, and prayed solely for tiicm. In tiie garden of Gelhsemanc, amid the most tremulous conflicts, which he sustained against the Father's justice, he interrupted the suppli- cations for divine as.sistance, to go and exhort the diMci|)lcs to watclifuliiess and prayer, and to arm thcni against the devil. (Jn the cross, he prayed for his murderers; and would have shed his blood with pleasure, if he might have rejoiced over those who shed it, and obtained for them forgivci»ess and salvation. More atlected with the wound received by his disciple, than with what concerned himself, his soul dissolved in compassion: he seemed to say, " Simon, son of Jonas, 1 devote myself in sacrifice without reluctance, if it may obtain thy salvation. 1 submit with pleasure, to the justice of my Father, if thy restoration may be obtained. But wlien I see thee, at the moment of my death, withdrawing tiiyself from that mercy, the whole of whose treasures 1 have opened; when I see tliee ' accounting the blood of the covenant,' I am going to shed, 'an un- holy thing;' when I nee that I die, and die in vain with regard to thee, if thou shouldst not recover from thy fall, iny passion becomes the Ser. LXXXVIII.] ST. PETER'S DENIAL OF HIS MASTER. 323 more severe, and llie anguish of my death is redoubled." This leads us to a third reflection. The look of Jesus Christ dist:overed an upbraiding as- pect, by whicii the Saviour would reclaim tlw sinner. Hence, on casting his eyes upon him, he selec-ted the circumstance of the crowing of the cock. The crowing of the cock, was as much the signal to realize the prediction of Jesus Christ, us to remind St. Peter of his pro- mise; and Jesus looked in that moment, that I'cter might recollect his vows, his oaths, his protestations; he looked to claim his promise, or at least to confound htm tor his defect of fidelity. Hut, however just these explanations may appear, they do not fully unfold the sense of the text. There is something miraculous in the history: anentauce: of this sort were those of St. I'clx'r. You nvdy Jtrat observe his anguish. He not only wej)!, but he wi'|>t bitterly. Forming im- perfect notions of vice, as wo mostly do, it is not surprising that we should think a repent- ance, superficial as ours, adequate to its expia- tion. Jiut regarding it in a ju.st light, consi- dering the majesty of Him it insults, the awful cloud it interposes between God and us, tlie alarming influence it has in the soul of our neighbour, and the painful uncertainty in which it places the -onscience; we cannot shed tears too bitter for the calamity of wilful transgres- sion. You may, secondly, remark the promptitude of the apostle's tears. " Then," says the evan- gelist, that is, "as soon as Jesus Christ had looked on him." The most laudable resolu- tions arc doubtful, when they look solely at the future, and neglect to promote a present reform. In general, they are less the effects of piety, cherishing a desire to abandon vice, than the laxity of the flesh; which, by hope of repentance after indulgence, would prevent remorse from interrupting the pleasures we expect from a vicious cx)urse. I fear every thing for a man, who, when exhorted to re- pent, replies, to-inotrow, at a future period. I fear every thing for such a man; I fear the winds; I fear t!io waves; I fear affliction-, I fear the fever; I fear distraction; I fear the habit; I fear exhausting the treasures of patience and lor.g-suH'ering. St. Peter deferred not to i. precarious futurity, the care of his salvatioa. As soon as Jesus Christ had looked on hiro, he perceived it; as soon as he called, he an- swered; as soon as the hand was extended, be arose. Observe, thirdly, the precaution attendant on his tears; " he went out." Not that ho was ashamed to acknowledge his Master, in the place where he had denied him, but distrust- ing himself; presumption having cost bim too much, he made a wise use of his past temerity. My brethren, would you know the true source of barrenness in your devotion; would you find the cause of so many obliterated vows, so many sacred purposes vanished away, so many projects dispersed as smoke, so many oaths violated, you will find them in the de- fecte of precaution. The sincere Christian fortifies that place in his heart, whose weak- ness Bad experieoce has discovered; be proâLi 324 ST. PETER'S DENIAL OF HIS MASTER. [Ser. LXXXVIII. by his loss, and derives advantage from his re- lapse. He says, that object was fatal to my innocence; I must no more look u[)on it; that company drew me into tliissin; I must instant- ly wiiiidraw; it was in the court of C'aiaphas I disowned my Saviour, I must slum that place. In fine, adequately to comprehend the na- ture of St. Peter's repentance, we must dis- cover all the cH'ects a sigiit of his sin produced in his soul. Here I would have my hearers suspend the eflects of fatigue; they are incapa- ble of attention, too fur prolonged, though we discuss the most interesting truths of religion. I would, authorized by custom, add another text to that 1 have read. It occurs in the Gospel according to St. John. Jesus said to Peter, " Simon, .son of Jonas, lovest tiiou me more tiian these' He saith unto him, Yea, Lord, thou knowest I love thee: He saith un- to him, feed my lambs." What has been said ,»f lawful love, — that those whose hearts are united, never dificr with the object of tiieir affection, but it tends to augment the flame, — may be said of divine love. This is obvious from the text we have cited; Jesus Christ and St. Peter alternately retaliated, for the eclipses their love had sustained. It is true, the apostle replied only to part of the question of Jesus Christ. He was asked, " Simon, son of Jonas, lovest thou me more than these.'" On all other occasions, he would frankly have replied, " Yea, Lord, tliou knowest that I love thee more tlian these." Ah, Lord! 1 well know tlie allusion of thy words; I fully perceive tiiat thou wouldst iium- ble me, by tlic recollection of the promise I have made, and wiiicli I have basely violated; "Though all men should be otl'ended with thee, yet will I never ije offended." I am fully impressed with the mortifying history tiiou wouldst retrace. I am tiie least of all my brethren: there is not one to whom I can dare to give myself the preference. If St. Peter replied with humility, he replied also with sincerity and zeal. If we wish a believer to be humble, we never wish him to be vain. If we do not require him to say, " I am conscious of being so established in grace, as never to be shaken;" wo wish at least, that he should feel the cheering and reviving flame of divine love, when its embers are most con- cealed in the aslics. We wish him not to make an ostentatious display of piety, but to evidence the tender attachment he has for God, even when, through weakness, he has happened to ofiend him. This was the dis- position of St. Peter, and his humility implied no defect of love. " Simon, son of Jonas, lovest thou me?" " Lord! I can presume no- thing of myself, the past makes me tremble for liie future; the example of distinguished saints, and mine still more, humbles and abo-ses my soul. Periiaps, like Job, I sliiill curse the day of my birth; periiaps, like David, I shall become guilty of murder and treason; |)erhaps, I shall deny thee again; periiaps, 1 shall be so vile, as to rejjcat these awful words, which will, to me, he a subject of everlasting regret, " I know not the man, I am not one of his disciples;" and if thou wilt condemn me, thou hast only to crush a worm, on whom no dé- pendance can be placed. After all, Lord! amid so many defects, so many offences, I feel that I love thee still; I feel that strong temptations can never eradicate a love, which is graven on my heart; I feel, when thy perfections are dis- cussed, that they affect, penetrate, and fill my soul; I feel delighted that my Redeemer is in- vested with such abundant glory and strength; when thy gospel is preached, I feel my heart burn within me; and I admire and adore the God, who has revealed a scheme of salvation so grand, so noble, so sublime. I feel, not- withstanding this awful deviation, inconceiva- ble sorrow, and inconceivable shame, which, to me, is an evident test, that the God 1 of- fend, is in reality, the God I love." Can it be imagined, that St. Peter's avowal of his weakness, rendered his love less estima- ble to his Master? Can it be conceived, that Jesus Christ is less delicate in his attachment than man? Knowing the fidelity of a friend, having a thousand satisfactory tiests of his at- tachment, do you cease to love him, when he has committed a fault, for which he is wound- ed the first' " The Lord knoweth whereof we are made." Our faults, howsoever glaring (if followed by repentance,) though they may susi)end, for a period, the influence of his love, can neither change its nature, nor restrict its duration. St. Peter had no sooner said to his Master, " Lord, thou knowest that I love thee," than he was re-established in his ministry by his prompt reply, " Feed my sheep." O how worthily did this apostle repair the offence he had given the church, by his devo- tion to its interests. Methinks I see him gather- ing, on the day of Pentecost, the souls which, perhaps, he had caused to stray! Methinks I seem to hear those pathetic addresses proceed from his mouth, which, like streams of light- ning, enkindle every thing in their course; sof- tening those very souls, which the cross of Christ was unable to move; e.xtorting from them this language, highly expressive of com- punction, " Men and brethren, what shall we do?" Methinks I see him flying from Pontus to Galatia, from Galatia to Bithynia, from liithynia to Cappadocia, from Cappadocia to every province of Asia, from Asia to Rome, leaving all his course strewed with the wreck of Satan's power; with trophies of temples demolished, of idols dethroned, of pagans con- verted, correspondent consequences of a minis- try, which, at its first commencement, had con- verted eight thousand men. Methinks I see him led from tribunal to tribunal, sometimes before the Jews, and sometimes before the Ro- mans, every where loaded with the reproach of Christ, every where confessing his name; finally fixed on a cross, and saying, as he died for the Redeemer, who had died for him, " Lord, thou knowest all things, thou knowest that I love thee." Such was the repentance of St. Peter, and such may ours now be! May those eyes which still seek us, as they sought him, pierce our heart, as they pierced his; striking the con- science with sanctifying terror, and causing those tears of repentance to flow, which are so availing for the sinner. They ought to produce those particular ef- fects on you, my brethren, whose sin has had a sad conformity to St. Peter's; who having Ser. LXXXVIIL] ST. PETER'S DENIAL OF HIS MASTER. Been (while in France) Jesus Christ delivered again into the hands of thieves, and hearing the interrogation, " You, also, are not you his disciples?" have answered as our apostle, " I know not the man, I am not one of his disci- ples." O! seek the eyes of Jesus Christ: see the looks he gives, hear what llicy say: Cow- ardly souls, are these the fine promises you made in time of peace!' Is this the examj)le you have set before the churcii? Was it not enough ... ? Hut why do 1 open wounds, which the mercy of God has closed? Why do I recall the recollection of a crime, which so many tears, so many torrents of blood, so many sacrifices, have effaced? It is, indeed, less with a view that I name it now, to re- proach the fault, than to remind you of the vows you made, wlien, all bathed in tears, you implored forgiveness; less to overwhelm you with a sight of your sin, than to comfort you with that divine mercy, which has done it all away. Who can ascertain the extent of mercy? Who can find language sudiciently strong, and figures sufficiently pure, noble, and sublime, for its adequate illustration? To what sinner did it ever prohibit access? What wounded and contrite conscience was ever repulsed at its bar? This immensity of mercy has forgiven Nebuchadnezzar and Manasseh, the one a monster in nature, the other a monster in re- ligion. It has forgiven St. Paul for persecu- tion, and St. Peter for apostacy. it has for- given you, wlio have imitated this weak disci- ple; it has readmitted you into the fellowship of the church, who had so basely abandoned it. Happy those apostate protestants, if Jesus Christ should deign to cast his eyes upon them, as he has on you. Happy if, on quitting the court of Caiaphas, in which they have, like our apostle, denied their Master, they should weep like you 325 fice to your net. Ascribe not to your courage a felicity which, perhaps, is solely due to the favourable circumstances in which you may have been providentially placed. Remember St. Peter. He reposed the utmost confidence in his zeal; and, the first trial he made of his strength, he was convinced of his weakness. Had God smitten the shepherd in the midst of you, perhaps the sheep would have been scat- tered. Had you, as so many others, seen gal- leys equipped, dungeons opened, gibbets erect- ed, fagots kindled, executioners armed, racks prepared, perhaps you would likewise have de- nied the Saviour. Do I impose on my hearers? Do you judge by what we do in the time of peace, of what wo should do in the time of tribulation? Let each lierc sound tlie depth of his own heart, and let him support, if possible, the dignity of Jesus Christ. How frequently, amid a slanderous multitude, who have said to us, " Are not you his disciples? Are not you attached to those, who make it a point of conscience not to men- tion the faults of your neighbours?" How often have we replied, by a guilty silence, " I know him not, I am not one of his disciples." How often in licentious company, when asked, "Are not you of that class? Are not you one of those, who restrict their appetites, moderate their pas- sions, and nortify the flesh?" How often have we answered, " 1 know him not, I am not one of his disciples." How often when led away with the enemies of righteousness, who have said, " Are not you one of that company? Are not you one of those who pique themselves on primitive virtue?" How often have we an- swered by a cowardly conduct, " I know him not, I am not one of his disciples." In defiance of all the composure and apathy with which we daily commit this sort of sins, conscience sometimes awakes and enforces re- formation. One of those happy occasions is O God! if we are permitted to address thee, just at hand. A crowded audience is expected though but " dust and ashes," is it for the con- firmation, or the confusion of our faith, that, on thissubject, thouseemest inexorable; and a sub- ject on which we will never cease to pray. On this head, has the mighty God "forgotten to have compassion?" No! I cannot persuade my- self that God has for ever abandoned so large a portion of his church. No! I cannot persuade myself that God has ceased to watch over the consciences of those our unhappy brethren, whom Satan has so long detained in security and slumber. No! I camiot persuade myself. here on Wednesday next. A trumpet is blown in Zion; a solemn assembly is convoked; a fast is proclaimed. But shall I tell you, my bre- threa' After excepting the small number who will then atHict tlieir righteous soul, and no doubt, redouble their devotion; after excepting the small number, and after examining the na- ture of our solemn humiliations, that 1 am less afraid of your sins, than of your fasts for na- tional reform? Before the great God; — before the Holy One of Israel, whose love of holiness is infinite as that God should permit so many children to himself, we shall appear on Wednesday next, perish for the sinsof tiieir fathers; and to be for ever separated from the church, to which they materially belong. Let our part be done, and God's sliall surely be accomplished. Let us be afflicted for the affliction of Joseph. Let us pray for the peace of Jerusalem. Let the ca- lamities of the church be ever on our mind. They are ever before the eyes of God; they ex- cite him to jealousy; they cause him to emerge from that cloud, in which he has so long been concealed for the e.vclusion of our prayers. APPLICATION. I address myself to you, my brethren, whose characters have never been defiled witli so foul a. blot: offer not incense to your drag, nor sacri- with minds still immersed in the cares, and agi- tated with the pleasures of the preceding day; we shall appear with dissipation, with a heart neither touched, nor broken, nor contrite: we shall each appear, and say, " I have sinned;" or in other words, " I have made my house a scene of voluptuousness, a seat of slander, a haunt of infamy: I have trampled my brethren under my feet, and this opulence, with which God has invested me to support, I have em- ployed to oppress the wretched: I have amassed exorbitant gains on the right hand, and the left; I have sacrificed friend, pupil, widow, orphan; I have sacrificed every thing to my private in- terest, tlie only god I worship and adore." On this great God, who discovers the most latent 326 ST. PETER'S DENIAL OF HIS MASTER. [Skr. LXXXVIII. folding of the heart, whose "sword divides asunder the soul and spirit, tlie joints and mar- row;" in whose presence "all things," the mind and heart, tlie secret thougtits, tlie concealed crimes, the dark designs, " all things are naked and manifest;" — on this great God we presume to impose hy the exterior, hy the tinsel of de- votion, by covering ourselves with sackcloth Sliiloh, and this sacred temple in which he deigns to dwell with men. My brelliren, are we yet spared to sound the alarm, to thunder? And shall we not adopt a new mode of celebrating this fast, and endea- vour to execute it' And you, our senators and governors! who have appointed this solemnity, let us apprize you and ashes, by bowing the neck to the yoke, and J also of its appropriate duties. Come on Wed' alHicling the soul for a single day; even, if we j ncsday next: like modern Jehoshaphats, pros- should put on sackcloth and ashes; if we should bow the neck to the yoke, and afllict the soul for a single day. But this very exterior, of which God says, " Is this the fast I have chosen? Callest thou this a fast, a day agreeable to the Lord?" Isaiah Iviii. 5. This mere exterior is not even found among us: we have only to open our eyes to admit the propriety of the charge. Uefore this great God, whose power is infi- nite, and who seems to have displayed it of late years, solely to punish the crimes of men, and to strike all Europe witli terror and death, with horror and despair; — before this God we shall presume to ask, not to be involved in the gene- ral destruction: we shall presume to ofler up this prayer, while each is resolved to insult him, to devour one another, to adhere to our crimi- nal connexions, to persevere in our unlawful gains. Am I then extravagant in saying, that, when I reflect on the nature of our solemn hu- miliations, I am less afraid of our sins, than of fasts we celebrate for national reform? Not that this sort of fasts are always una- vailing; the mercy of God sometimes gives them effect, and endeavours in some sort to overlook trate, at the footstool of God's throne, the dig- nities with which you are invested; and for which you must give so solemn an account. Come, and let all your glory consist in humi- liation and repentance. Come, and surrender into his Omnipotent hands, the reins of this re- public, and swear that you will henceforth go- vern it by no maxims but his laws. And may God grant, may God indeed grant you, to set so laudable an example before his church; and, having inspired you with the noblp resolution, may he crown it with effect! Ministers of Jesus Christ, whom Providence calls on Wednesday next to administer the word, your task is obviously great. With what a charge are you intrusted! On you principally devolves the duty of alarming and abasing the wicked. On you principally devolves the duty of stopping the torrent of iniquity, which is fol- lowed by these awful calamities. On you prin- cipally devolves the duty of quenching the flames of celestial vengeance, enkindled against our sins. " Who is sufficient for these things?" But use your efforts, and expect the rest from the blessing of God. Speak as ministers ought our hypocrisy. " When he slew them, then | to speak on like occasions. " Cry aloud, lift they sought him, and remembered that God i up your voice like a trumpet, show Jacob his was their rock. Nevertheless, they did flatter | transgressions, and Israel his sins." If you tes with their mouth, and they lied unto him with their tongues, for their heart was not right with him. But he being full of compassion, forgave their iniquity, and many a time turned away his anger," Ps. Ixxviii. 34 — 38. God has not only acted on these principles with regard to iiis ancient people, but even with regard to us. On the approach of death, when we have sought the Ijord by solemn pjayer, " When we have remembered our rock, when we have flattered with our mouth, and lied with our tongues," promising reformation, he has had compassion upon us, and has retarded our destruction. On that account we still live. On that account these hearers are still present in this temple, and the wicked among them have been precipitated into the gulf of Gehenna. But how long, think you, can this sort of fasts produce the effects for which they have hitherto availed? Weigh the words which follow the above quotation. "When God heard this, he was wroth, and greatly abhorred Israel: so that ho forsook the tabernacle in Sliiloh, the tent ho had planted among men. And he delivered his strength into captivity, and his glory into the enemy's hand," verse 59 — 62. Ilnlland! Ilnlland! here is the sentence of thy destiny. God, after regarding our humiliations for a certiiin liint,', after " remembering that we are but flesh," after enduring the prayers of de- ceitful tongues, and the promises of feigned lips, ho will finally hear the cry of our sins, he will abhor Israel, lie will abandon his pavilion in tify the truth, what matter if they murmur against your discourses. And may God, on this solemn occasion, "teach your hands to war, and your fingers to fight." May God in- spire you with magnanimity of mind corres- pondent to tlie mission with which you are in- vested. And you. Christian people, what will you do on Wednesday next' It is not only your pre- sence in this temple, — it is not only hymns and prayers, supplications, and tears, which we so- licit, — a fast should be signalized by more dis- tinguished marks of conversion and repentance: these are restitution, these are mutual recon- ciliation, these are a profusion of charities, these are a diligent search for the indigent, who are expiring as much through shame as want. Hero, here, my dear brethren, is what we re- quire. And let me obtain this request! Let mo even expire in this pulpit, in endeavouring to add some degree of energy to your devotion, and effect to your fast! Our prayers shall sup- ply our weakness. O Almighty God! O God! who niakest "judgment thy strange work," let our prayers appease tliy indignation! Resist not a concourse of people, assembled to besiege the throne of thy grace, and to move thy bowels of paternal compassion! When our nobles, our pastors, our heads of houses, our children, when all our people, when all shall bo assembled on Wednesday next in this hou.se, with eyes bathed in tears, with hearts rent, for having offended so good and gracious a God, — when each shoU Ser. LXXXIX] ON THE NATURE OF, &c. 327 cry from the aslies of our repentance, "Have morcy upon ine, according to the multitude of thy tender mercies, and blot but my transjrrcs- BJons." Deign thou also to be present, O great God, and " Holy one of Israel." lieign thou also to he present with the goodness, the love, the bowels of compassion, which thou hast for poor penitent sinners! Hear, O Lord, hear, O Lord, and pardon! Amen. SERMON LXXXIX. ON THE NATURE OF THE UNPAR- DONABLE SIN. Hebrews vi. 4 — 6. It is impossible for those who were once enli<;htened, and have lasted of the heavenly ^ft, ami were made partakers of the Holy Ghost, and have _______ tasted the good word of Cod, and the powers of to come,— and to fall away in defiance of bo says he, " for those who wore once enlightened, and have tasted of the heavenly gift, and were made partakers of the Holy Ghost, and have tasted the good word of God, and the powers of the world to come; if they shall fall away, to renew them again unto repentance." St. Paul, after having pronounced these ter- rific words, adds; " Jiehold we are persuaded better things of you." Happy apostle, who, while j)ronouncing the sentence of celestial vengeance, could tlatter himself that it would not fall on any of his audience. But we, my brethren, how shall we say to yoa* " Beloved, we are persuaded better things of you." The disposition is worthy of our wishes. M.iy it be the eH'ect of this discourse, and the fruit of our ministry! To have been enlightened, — to have tasted the heavenly gift, — to have been partakers of the Holy Ghost, — to have tasted the good word of God, and felt the powers of the world the world to come: if they shall fall away, to re- new them <^ain unto repentance. "How dreadful is this place! This is none other but the house of God, and this is the gate of heaven." On a different occasion, there would have been nothing surprising in the fears of Jacob. Had God revealed himself to this patriarch in the awful glory of avenging wrath, and surrounded with devouring fire, "with darkness and with tempest;" it would have been surprising that a man, that a sinner, and a be- liever of the earlier ages of the church, should have been vanquished at the sight. But, at a period when God approached him with the tcn- derest marks of love; when he erected a mira- culous ladder between heaven and earth, caus- ing the angels to ascend and descend for tlie protection of his servant; when he addressed him in these consolatory words, " Behold I am with thee, I will keep thee in all places whither thou goest, and I will bring thee again into this land; for I will not leave thee;" that .Jacob should tremble in such a moment, is what we cannot conceive without astonishment. What! is the gate of heaven dreadful; and is the house of God an object calculated to strike terror into the mind.' My brethren, Jacob's fear unquestionably proceeded from the presence of God, from the singularity of the vision, and the peculiar scene- ry of the discovery, which had struck his ima- gination. But let us farther extend our thoughts. Yes, the gate of heaven is terrible, and the house of God is dreadful! and his favours should im- press solemnity on the heart. Distinguished favours give occasion to distinguished crimes; anil from places the most exalted have occurred the greatest falls. St. Paul, in the words of my te.xt, places each of the Hebrews, whom he ad- dre.««ed, in the situation of Jacob. He e.Khibits a portrait of the prodigies achieved in their fa- vour, since their conversion to Christianity; the miracles which had struck their senses; the knowledge which had irradiated their minds; and the impressions which had been made on their hearts. He opens to them the gate of heaven; but, at the same time, re<]uircs that they should e.xclaim, "'How dreadful is this place!" From this profusion of grace, he draws motives for salutary fear. " It is impossible," much grace, — such are the odious trait» em- ployed by the apostle to degrade a crime, the nature of which we proceed to define. The awful characteristics in the portrait, and the superadded conclusion, tliat it is impossible to renew them again unto repentance, fully ap- prize us, that he here speaks of the foulest of all offences; and, at the same time, gives us a limited notion of its nature. Some have thought, that the surest way to obtain a just idea of the sin, was to represent it by every atrocious circumstance. They have collected all the characteristics, which could add aggravation to the crime: they have said, that a man who has known the truth, who has despised, hated, and opposed it, neither through fear of punishment, nor hope of reward, offer- ed by tyrants to apostacy, but from a principle of malice, is the identical person of whom the apostle speaks; and that in this monstrous as- sociation of light, conviction, opposition, and unconquerable abhorrence of the truth, this aw- ful crime consists. Others, proceeding farther, have searched ancient and modern history, for persons, in whom those characteristics associate; that, su- peradding example to description, they might exhibit a complete portrait of the sin, into whose nature we shall now inquire. They have selected two striking examples. Tlie first is that of the emperor Julian, the unworthy ne- phew of Constantino the Great, designated in history under the odious appellation of apostate, who, afler having been bred in the bosom of the church, and af\er having olficiated with his brother, as reader (do not be surprised, my bre- thren, that the nephew of an emperor should wish to be a reader in the church, the first Christians had higher ideas than we of the sa- cred functions,) afler, I say, having sustained this office, abandoned the faith, persecuted the church, endeavoured to refute Christianity, as- sumed the character of chief pontifia, carried himself to that excess as to wish to efface the impression of baptism by the blood of victims, and if we may credit a tradition reported by Theodoret, died blaspheming ajrainst Jesus Christ.* * Hilt. Ecck*. lib. iii. cap. 3. 328 ON THE NATURE OF [Ser. LXXXIX, The second example is that of the most Bin- gular Vsnutian, whose memory seems handed down to posterity solely to excite horror, and for ever to intimidate those who renounce the truth. His name is Francis Spierra. He had tasted the doctrine of the Reformation, and published his sentiments-, but on being cited before the pope's nuncio, and menaced with the loss of his head, if he did not instantly re- cant, his fears occasioned his baseness, and he had the weakness to make a public renuncia- tion of our communion. But scarcely had he made the abjuration ere he was abandoned to the horrors of melancholy. The anguish of his mind was fatal to the body; and as one en- deavoured to convince him of the boundless mercy of God, " I know it," he exclaimed, " I know that God is merciful; but this mercy belongs not to me, to me who have denied the truth. I have sinned against the Holy Ghost; I already feel the horrors of the damned. My terrors are insujjportable. Who will deliver my soul from this body."* Who will open for her the caverns of the abyss? Wiio will chase her into the darkest abodes of hell? I am damned without resource. I consider God no longer as my Father, but as my enemy. 1 detest him; (is it possible that a Christian mouth should open with the like blasphemies!) 1 de- test him as such. 1 am impatient to join the curses of the demons in hell, whose pains and horrors 1 already feel."* In the course of this sermon, we shall endea- vour to draw, from tiieir method, whatever may most contribute to your instruction. Rut, first of all, we deem it our duty to make some previous observations, and to derive tiie liglit from its source. In the discussion of a sin, solitary in its nature, the Scriptures having ex- cluded none from salvation, but those who are guilty of this oftence, it is of the last impor- tance to review all those passages, which, it is presumed, have reference to the crime: we must inquire in what they differ, and in what they agree, drawing, from this association of light, that instruction, which cannot be derived from any other source. The task will not exceed our limits, tlierc being at most but four texts, in which, it is pre- sumed, the Scriptures speak of this sin. The first is in the gospels where mention is made of speaking or blaspheming against llie Holy Ghost: " I say unto you, all manner of sin and blasphemy shall be forgiven unto men; but the blasphemy against the Holy Ghost shall not be forgiven unto men. And wiiosuvcr speak- eth a word against the Son of man, it sliall be forgiven him; but whosoever speakclh against the Holy Ghost, it siiall not be forgiven him, neither in this world, neither in that whicii is to come." This text, which Augustine deems the most difficult in the Scriptures, will be- come intelligible, if we examine the occasiou and weigh the words. The occasion is obvious to understand. Jesus had just cured a demoniac. The Pharisees had attested the fact, and could not deny its divine authority: tlieir eyes decided in favour of Jesus Christ. But they had recourse to an cxtraordi- *Our author IhouRlil lumailf justitird in reciting tliis sad case, there beini; lliiiii>aiid» lu Kraiice who had re- nounced Die reformed religion. nary method of defaming his character. Un- able to destroy the force of the miracle, they maintained that it proceeded from an impure source, and that it was by the power of the , devil Jesus Christ healed this afflicted class of men. This was tlie occasion on which lie pro- nounced the words we have recited. The import of the expressions is no way diifi- cull to comprehend. Who is the Son of Man? And who is the Holy Ghost? And what is it to speak against the one and the other? The Son of man is Jesus Christ revealed in human form. Without staying here to refute a mis- take of the learned Grotius, who pretends be- cause the article does not precede the word, it is not to be understood of our Saviour, but of men in general. To confirm the sense hero attached to the term, we shall only observe, that St. Luke, chap. xii. 8, after calling our Saviour " the Son of man," immediately adds, " Whosoever siiall speak a word against the Son of man, it shall be forgiven him:" where it evidently follows, that by " the Son of man," Jesus Christ must be understood. And though the expression may elsewhere have other signi- fications, they have no connexion with our subject. By the Holy Ghost, must be understood the third person in the adorable Trinity; consider- ed not only as God, but as Author of the miracles achieved for the confirmation of the gospel. Hence, to " speak against the Son of man," was to outrage t!ie Lord Jesus; to render his doctrine suspected; to call his mission in question; and particularly to be offended at tiie humiliations which surrounded it on earth. Such was tiieir conduct who said, " Is not this the carpenter's son? Can there any good thing come out of Nazareth? A gluttonous man, a wine-bibbcr, a friend of publicans and sinners." To speak against the Holy Ghost, was ma- liciously to reject a doctrine, when he who de- livered it, confirmed the truth of it by so dis- tinguished and evident a miracle as healing a demoniac; and to ascribe those miracles to the devil, which, they were assured, had God alone for their author. Here, 1 conceive, is all the light we can derive from the text. And as many persons determine tlie sense of the text, not so much by the letter as the reputation of the interpreter, we must apprize tiiem, that we have derived this explanation not only from the writings of our most celebrated commenta- tors who have espoused it, but also from tiie works of the most celebrated of the fathers — I mean Chrysostom. The following is the sub- stance of his paraphrase on the text in St. Mat- thew: — " You have called me a deceiver, and an enemy of God; 1 forgive tiiis reproach. Having some cause to stumble at the llesh with which 1 am clothed, you miglit not know who 1 am. But can you bo ignorant that the cast- ing out of demons, is the work of the Holy Ghost' For this cause, he who says, that 1 do these miracles by Beelzebub, shall not obtain remission." Such is the comment of Chrysostom, to whom we add the remark of an author, wor- tiiy of superior confidence; it is St. Mark, who subjoins these words: " Because the Pharisees said lie hath an unclean spirit." Hence it is inferred that the Pharisees, by ascribing the Ser. LXXXIX.] THE UNPARDONABLE SIN. 329 miracles of the Holy Ghost, to an unclean spirit, were guilty of the identical sin against the Holy Ghost, of which Jesus Christ had spoken: as is a|)parent!y proved. ^fi The second text we shall explain, occurs in the fifth chapter of the first epistle of St. John. " If any man see his brother sin a sin whicii is not unto death, he shall ask, and he shall I give him life for them that sin not unto death: there is a sin unto death; I do not say ye shall pray for it." On this question there are, as we usually say, as many opinions as parties. Consult the doctors of the Romish church, and they will establisii, on these words, the frivolous distinction between venial and mortal sins; a conjecture both false, and directly op- posed to the design of those from whom it pro- ceeds. Because, if this sense be true, the mo- ment a man commits a mortal sin, prayer must cease with regard to him; and he who com- mits a venial sin, will still need the prayers of saints to avoid a death lie has not deserved; this is not only indefensible, but what the Ca- tholics themselves would not presume to main- tain. Waving the various glosses of the Nova- tians, and other commentators, do you ask what is the idea we should attach to these words of the apostle, and what is the sin of which he here speaks.' We repeat what we have already intimated, that it is difficult to ex- plain. However, on investigating the views of the apostle throughout the chapter, we discover the sense of this text. His design was, to em- bolden the young converts in the profession of the religion they had so happily embraced. With this view, he here recapitulates the proofs which established iis truth: " There are three that bear witness on earth, the water, and the spirit, and the blood. It is the innocence of the primitive Christians, which is called the u-ater; the miracles which are called the spirit; and martyrdom, by which the faithful have sealed their testimony, and which is called the blood: attesting that those three classes of witnesses, demonstrate the truth of the Christian religion, and render its opposers utterly inexcusable. After these and similar observations, the apostle says expressly, that he wrote for tlie confirmation of their faith, and closes with this exhortation: " Little children, keep yourselves from idols." Between these two texts, occur the words we wish to explain: " There is a sin unto death: 1 do not say that ye shall pray for it." Must not " the sin unto death," be that, «gainst which he wished to fortify the saints; 1 mean apostacy? What! you will say, is a man lost without remedy who has denied the truth; and is every one in the sad situation of those for whom the apostle prohibits prayerf God forbid, my bre- thren, that we should preach so strange a doc- trine; and once more renew the Novatian se- verity! There are two kinds of apostates, and two kinds of apostacies: there is one kind of apostacy into which we fall by the fear of punishment, or on the blush of the moment, by the promises Satan makes to his proselytes. There is another, inio which we fall by the enmity we have against the truth, by the de- testable pleasure we take in opposing its force. It were cruel to account the first ot these of- VoL. 11.— 42 fences, " a sin unto death;" but the Spirit of God ])rompts us to attach this idea to the second. 'J'hero are likewise two kinds of apos- tates. There is one class, who have made only small attainments in the knowledge of the truth; weak and imperfect Christians, unac- i|uaintcd as yet with the joys and transporta excited in the soul by a religion, which pro- mises remission of sin, and everlasting felicity. There is another, on the contrary, to whom God has given superior knowledge, to whom he has conununicated the gifts of miracles, and whom he has caused to experience the sweet- ness of his promise. It would be hard to re- ject the first; but the apostle had regard to the second. Those, according to St. John, who have committed the " sin unto death," are the persons who abjure Christianity, after the re- ception of all those gifts. In the primitive church, where some were honoured with the endowment of discerning spirits, there proba* bly were brethren who could discern the latter apostates from the former. These observations lead to the illustration ^^ of the two passages yet to be explained: tho ' one is in the tenth chapter to the Ilebrews; the J^ other is our text. In both these passages, it is obvious the apostle had the second class of apostates in view. This is very apparent from our text. Throughout the whole of this epistle, it is easy tc prove, that the apostle's wish was the prevention of apostacy. He especially de- signed to demonstrate, that to renounce Chris- tianity, after attesting its confirmation by mira- cles, here denominated "distributions of the Holy Ghost," was a crime of the grossest enor- mity. He has the same design in the text. Let us examine the terms. 1. "They were once enlightened;" that is, >^ they had known the truth. They had com- pared the prophets with the apostles, the pro- phecies with the accomplishment; and by the collective force of truth, they were fully per- suaded that Jesus was the Messiah. Or, if you please, " they were once enlightened;" that is, '■ they were baptized;" bajttism, in the primi- tive church, succeeding instruction, according to that precept of Christ, " Go ye and teach all nations, baptizing them," &.c. St. Paul, at the begimung of this ciiapter, speaking of bap- tism, expresses the same sentiment. So also we are to understand St. Peter, when he says, that " the baptism which now saves us, is not the put- ting away the filth of the tlesh, but the answer of a good conscience." The answer of a good conscience, is the rectitude of conduct, result- ing from the catechumen's knowledge and faith. Hence they commonly gave the appel- lation of illuminated to a man after baptism. " The washing of baptism," says Justin Martyr, " is called illumination; because he who is in- structed in these mysteries, is enlightened." Hence also the Syriac version, instead of en- lightened, as our reading which follows the Greek, has rendered it baptized. ~. "They had tasted of the heavenly gift;" that is, they had experienced the serenity of that peace, which we feel when we no longer fear the punishment of sin: having passed, if I may so speak, the rigorous road of repentance, into favour with God. 3. " They were made partakers of the Holy 330 OiN tml: nature of [Sbr. LXXXIX. (îhost, tlipy Jiail relislied thi; (^ood word of God, and tlio j>o\vi;rs of tlio world to come." All tlieso various expressions may be understood of niiiacies perlbrnied in tliinr |treseiice, or acliic'vcd by tbcmselves. The Holy Ciiiost him- self has assumed this ucci-ptation, in various parts of the Scriptures, us in that remarkable passaire in the nineteenth chapter of the Acts, " IJave ye received the Holy (îhost?" — We have not so much as heard, wheliier there be any Holy Ghost. The goud word, says Grotius, is tiie promise of God, as in the twenty-ninth of Jeremiah, " 1 will — perform my i^ood word towards you;" that is, my promise; and one of the greatest promises made to the jirimilive Christians, was the gift of miracles. " 'I'hese sijrns," says Jesus, "shall follow them that be- hove; in n>y name they shall cast out devils, they shall speak with toiijjues, they shall take up serpents." In fine, "the ])owers of the world to come," were, likewi.se, the prodijries to be achieved during the pospel economy; which the Jews call the age, or world to come; prodigies elsewhere railed, the " exceeding greatness of his power, and the mighty work- ing of his power." These are the endowments, with which the persons in question were favoured; their crime was apostacy. " It is impo.ssible, if they tall away, to renew them again unto rejicntancc." To fall aifuij, docs not characterize the state of a man, who relapses, after having obtained remission. How deploralde soever his situa- tion may be, it is not without resource. 'J"he falling away in our lcs.i signifies a total defec- tion; and entire rejection of Jesus Christ, and of his religion. The falling away, according to .St. i'aul, in the ninth chajUer of his epistle to the Romans, marks the lirst stage of obdu- racy in the Jewish nation. But the falling away in our te.vt, is not oidy a rejection of i Christ, but a rejection at'ter having known him: it is not only to reject, but to outrage and per- secute him with malice and enmity oi" heart. llvrt: is all the information we can derive from the text. The imjjardonable sin, in these words, is that of apostates; and such as we have characterized in the preceding remarks. This also is ihe gerniine im[)ort of the tenth chapter of the epistle to the Hebrews, " Jf we sill wilfully, aller having received the know- ledge of the truth," as would be easy to i)rove. Now, if you have been attentive to all the considerations we have just advanced: if you have understood the explanations wo have given ul"tlie several te.xts, you may form a cor- rect idea of the unpardonable sin. You may know what this crime was, at least, in the time of the primitive church. It was denying, lialiiig, and maliciously opposing the Iruth, at the nmnient they wen; persuaded it ])roceeded t'rom God. Two classes of men might commit this crime in the apostolic agi;. Fir.t, Ihose who had never cmhrai-ed C!hristi- • anity; but opposed its |irogress in defiance of i rational conviction, and the dictate.'^ of con- | science. This was the sin of the Pharisees, | who maliciously ascriixd to the devil miracles, I which they knew could have God alone for 1 their author. Secondly, those who had embraced the gos- \ pel, who had been baptized, who had received i the gift of miracles, and experienced all the graces enumerated in the text. This was the SHI of tlio.'fc, who, after conversion, abjured the truth, and pronounced against Jesus ( lirist the anathemas which his enemies, and particularljA o the Jews, reipiired of apostates. These St. • Paul had in view, in the words of our text, and in tiie teiitii chai»ler of this epistle. Of this i St. John also s|)ake, when he said, " there is a 1 sin unto death." Hence the sin described in these three j)assages, and the sin against the Holy (Jhost, is the same in quality, if 1 may so speak, though diversified in circumstances: we have, consequently, comprised the whole un- der the vague ajipellation of unpardonable sin. After these considerations, perhaps, you al- ready rejoice. This sermon, designed to in- spire the soul with sanctrfying fear, has, per- haps, already contributed to Hatter your secu- rity: you no longer see any thing in the text, which atiects your case; nor any thing in the most disorderly life, connected with a crime, peculiar to the primitive Christians. I^et as dissipate, if possible, .so dangerous an illusion. We have done little, by tracing the manner in which the first witnesses of the gospel became guilty of the unpardonable sin; we must also inquire, what relation it may have to us. in general, it is not possible to hear subjects of this nature discussed, without a variety of {jucstions revolving in the mind, and asking one's self, have I not already committed this sin.' Does not such and sucii a vice, by which I am captivated, constitute its essence.' Or, if 1 have never committed it yet, may I not fall into it at a, future period.' It is but just, brethren, to aflord you satisfaction on point» so important. Never did we discuss more serious questions; and we frankly acknowledge, th:it all we have hitherto advanced, wa.s merely introductory to what we have yet to s;iy; and for which we require tiie whole of the attention, with which you have favoured us. Thoiigli truth is always the same, and never acconimodates itself to the humours of an audi- ence, it is an invari:ible duty to resolve these (juestions according to the characters of the in- ipiirers. The (piestions amount in substance to this: Can a man in this age commit the un- pardonable sin.' And, 1 assure you, they may bo proposed from three priiicii)les, widely dif- ferent from each otiier: from a melancholy, from a timorous, and a cautious disposition. We shall diversify our solutions, conlormably to this diversity ot' character. 1. One may make this inquiry through a melancholy disposition; and mental derange- ment is an awful coin|>laint. It is a disease whicii corrupts the blood, stagnates the spirits, and llags the mind. I'Vom the body, it quickly communicates to tiie soul; it induces the sul- fercrs to regard every object on the dark side; to indulge phantoms, and cherish anguish, which, excluding all consolation, wholly de- votes the mind to objects, by wliich it is alarmed and tormented. A man oi'this disposition, on examining his conscience, and reviewing his life, will draw his own churacter in the deepest colours. He will construe his weakness into wickedness, and his iiifirniiti(;s into crimes; he will magnify the number, and .iggravato the atrocity of his sins; he will class himself, in Ser. LXXXIX] THE UNPARDONABLE SIN. 331 short, with the worst of human characters. And, our reasons for self-condemnation and abasement before God, beinjj always too well founded, tlie ])erson in question, proceeding «ron these principles, and mistaking the causes of humiliation and repentance, for just subjects of horror and despair, readily i)clieves himself lost without resource, and guilty of the unpar- donable sin. VVitliout doubt, it is highly proper to reason with people of this description. We should endeavour to compose Ihem, and enter into their sentiments, in order to attack their argu- ments with more cffeet; hut, after all, a man so at}1i(;ted has more need of a physiciuii than .a minister, and of medicine than sermons. If it is not a hopeless case, we must endeavour to remove the complaint, by means which nature and art allbrd; by air, exercise, and iimocent re(!reations. Above all, we must pray that (iinl would " cause the l)oncs he has broken to rejoict?;" and that he would not abandon, to the remorse and torments of tlio damned, souls redoemed by the blood of his beloved Son, and reconciled by his sacrifice. 2. This inquiry may also 1)0 made through a timorous disposition. We distinguish timidity from HHîlnDclioly; the first being a disposition of the mind, occasioned by the mistaken notions we entertain of God and his word; the second, of the body. The timorous man fixes his eye on what the Scriptures say of the justice of God, without paying adequate attention to what is said of his mercy. He looks solely at the perfection to which a Christian is called, without ever regarding the leniency of the gospel. Such a man, like the melancholy per- son, is readily induced to tiiink himself guilty of the unpardonable sin. Should he ilatter iiimself with not having yet perpetrated tlic deed, he lives in a continual fear. This fear may, indeed, proceed from a good principle, and be productive of happy effects, in exciting vigilance and care; but, if not incompatible with the liberty of the children of God, it is at least repugnant to the peace they may obtain; which constitutes one of the sweetest comforts of re- ligion, ami one of the most effectual motives to conciliate the heart. If a man of this description should ask me, whether one may now commit the unpardon- able sin? 1 would repeat what I have just said, that this sin, in all its circumstances, has pecu- liar reference to the miracles by which God formerly confirmed the evangelical doctrine; and conse<|uently, to account himself at this period guilty of the crime, is to follow the emo- tions of fear, rather than the conviction of ar- gument. I would compare the sin which alarms his con.scicnce, with that of the uiihap- jiy man of wiiom we spake. I would prove by this comjiarison, that the disposition of a man, who utters blasphemy against .lesus Christ, who makes open war with the profes- sors of his doctrine, has no resemblance to the style of another, who sins with remorse and contrition; who wrestles with tlie old man; who sometinips conquers, and sometimes is conquered: though he has sufficient cause from his sin to perceive, that the love of God by no means properly burns in his heart; he has, however, encouragement from his victories, to admit that it is not totally extinguished. I would assist this man to enter more minutely into his state; to consider the holy fears which fdl, the terrors which agitate, and the remorse which troubles his heart; and in such a way as to derive from the cau.se of his grief, motives of cf)tisolation. We should never stretch our subjects, nor divide what Jesus Christ has join- ed by a happy temperature. If you look srde- ly at the mercy of God, you will tmavoidahly form excuses to flatter your security; if voci confine your regards to his justice, yon will fall into despair. It is this happy temperature of s(!verity jiid indulgence, of mercy and jus- tice, of hope and fear, which bring.s tlw^ soul of a saint to jiermanent repose; it is this hippy temperature which constitutes tlie heajify of religion, and renders it efficacious in the con- vcrsiy ago, where wo see so great a number of our brethren die in a])ostacy, and in which the lives of those who surround us afford so just a ground of awful apprehensions, con- cerning their salvation. 1 confess it would bo unreasonable to censure tears in a situation uo olllictivc; I coufcis that Ser. XC] RELATIVES AND FRIENDS. 339 one has need of an extraordinary confidence to repress excess, and tliat an ordinary piety is in- ade<|uate to the task. I contend, however, tliat religion fori)ids, oven in this case, to sorrow above measure. Two remarks shall make it manifest; and we entreat tlioso whom God has struck in this sensible manner, to impress them def^ply on their mind. 1. Our grief really proceeds from a carnal principle, and our heart disguises itself from its own judgment, when it ap[iarently suggests that religion is the cause. If it were simply the idea of the loss of the soul; if it were a jirinciple of love to God, and if it were not the relations of father and son; in a word, if the motives were altogether sjiiritual, and the charity wholly pure, whicli excites our grief, whence is it that this one object should excite it, whilcso great a multitude of unhappy men are precisely in a similar case? Whence is it that we SCO daily, without anxiety, whole na- tions running headlong to perdition? Is it less dishonourable to God, that those multitudes are excluded from his covenant, than because it is precisely your friend, your son, or your father? Our second remark is, that the love we have for the creature should always conform itself with the Creator. We ought to love our neigli- bours, because like us they bear tiie image of God, and they are called with us to the same glory. On this principle, when we see a sinner wantonly rush on the precipice, and risking salvation by his crimes, our charity ought to be alarmed. Thus Jesus Christ, placing him- But if there bo one kind of sorrow incompati- ble with the hope of a Christian, there is an- other which is altogether congenial to it, and insc[)aral)le in its tics, and such is the sorrow which proceeds from one of the following prin- ci|)les: — from sympathy; — from the dictates of nature; — and from repentance. 'I'o be explicit: I. We have said first, from sympathy. Though we have censured the sorrow excited by the loss of our dearest fiiends, we did not wish to impose a rigorous apathy. The sorrow we have censured is that excessive grief, in whicli despondency prevailing over religion in- duces us to deplore the dead, as though there wa.s no hope after this life, and no life after death. But the submissive sorrow by whicli we feel our loss, without shutting our eyes against the resources afforded by I'rovidence; the sorrow which weeps at the suiferings of our friends in the road to glory, but confident of th(!ir having attained it; tliis sorrow, so far from being culi)ablc, is an inseparable sentiment of nature, and an indispensable duty of religion. Yes, it is allowed on seeing this body, this corpse, the precious remains of a part of our- selves, carried away by a funeral procession, it is allowed to recall tiie tender but painful re- collections of the intimacy we had with him whom death lias snatciicd away. It is allowed to recall the counsel he gave us in our embar- rassments; tiie care he took of our education; the solicitude he took for our welfare; the un- affected marks of love which appeared during the whole of his life, and which were redoubled at the period of his death. It is allowed to re- self in the period in which grace was still offer- | call the endearments that so precious an inli- cd to Jerusalem, and in which she niiglit ac cept it, groaned beneath her hardness, and de- plored the abuse she made of his entreaties; " O th.it thou hadst known, at least in this thy day, the things that belong to thy peace," Luke xix. 42. But when a man becomes the avowed enemy of God, when a protracted course of vice, and a final perseverance in crimes, convinces that he has no part in his covenant, then our love should return to its centre, and associate itself with the love of our Creator. " Henceforth know we no man after the tlesh. I hate them with a perfect liatred. If any man love not the Lord Jesus Christ, let him be anathema. If any man love father, mother, son, or daughter, more than me, he is not worthy of me," 2 Cor. v. 16; Ps. c.xxxix. 22; Matt. x. 37. This duty is, perliaps, too exalted for the earth. The sentiments of nature are, perhaps, too much entwined witli those of religion to be so perfectly distinguished. It is certain, however, that they shidl exist in heaven. If you should suppose the contrary, the happiness of heaven would be imbittered with a thousand I>ains: you can never conceive how a father can be satisfied with a felicity in which his son has no share; nor how a friend can be composed while his associate is loaded with "chains of darkness." Whereas, if you establish the prin- ciple that perfect charity must be an emanation of divine love, you will develop the inquiry; and you will also conclude, that excessive sor- row, excited by a criminal death, is a criminal sorrow, and that if piety be its principle, it is a misguided piety. macy shed on life, the converisations in his last sickness, those tender adieus, tho.se assurances of esteem, that frankness of ins soul, those fer- vent prayers, those torrents of tears, and those last efforts of an expiring tenderness. It is al- lowed in weeping to show the robes that Dor- cas had made. It is allowed to the tender Jo- seph, on coming to the threshing floor of Atad, the tomb of his father; it is allowed to pour out his heart in lamentations, to make Canaan re- sound with the cries of his grief, and to call the place Abcl-mizraim, the mourning of the Egyptians. It is allowed to David to go weep- ing, and saying, " O my son Absalom; my son, my son Absalom! would to God I had died for thee, O Absalom my son, my son!" 2 Sam. xviii. 33. It is allowed to St. Augustine to weep for the pious Monica, his mother, wlio had slied so many tears to obtain the grace for him, that he might for ever live with God, to use the expression of his father. ConfesB. lih. ix. c. 8, &c. II. A due regard to ourselves should affect us with sorrow on seeing the dying and the dead. The first reflection that a sight of a corpse should suggest is, that we also must die, and that the road he has just taken, is " the way of all the eartli." This is a reflection that every one seems to make, while no one makes it in reality. We cast on the dying and the dead but slight and transient regards; and if we say, in general, that this must be our final lot, we evade the particular application to our heart. While we subscribe to the sentence, " It is appointed unto men once to die," we uniformly make some sort of exception with 340 ON THE SORROW FOR THE DEATH OF, Sic. [Ser. XC. regard to ourselves: because we never hare died, it seems as though we never should die. Ié' wc are not so far infatuated, as to flatter ourselves concerning the fatal necessity impos- ed on us to leave the world, wc flatter our- selves with regard to the circumstances; we consider them as remote; and the distance of the object prevents our knowing its nature, and regarding it in a just light. We attend the dying, we lay thcni in the tomb, we preach their funeral discourse; we follow them in the funeral train; and as though they were of a nature different from us, and as though we had some prerogative over the dead, we return home, iind become candidates for their offices. We divide their riches, and enter on their lands, just as the presumptive mariner, who, seeing a ship on the shore, driven by the tem- pest and about to be bilged by the waves, takes his bark, braves the billows, and defies the danger, to share in the spoils of the wreck. A prudent man contemplates the death of his friends with other eyes. He follows tliem with a mind attached to the tomb; he clothes himself in their shrouds; he extends himself in their coffin; he regards his living body as about to become like their corpse; and the duty he owes to himself inspires him with a gracious sorrow on seeing in the destiny of his lamented friends an image of his own. But why sliould the thought of dying excite sorrow in a saint, in regard of whom the divine justice is disarmed, and to whom nothing is presented beyond the tomb but inviting objects.' The solution of this difficulty associates with what we said in the third place, that the death of persons worthy of our esteem, should e.xcite in our hearts the sentiments of repentance. HI. It is a question often agitated among Christians, that seeing Jesus CJhrist has satisfied the justice of the Father for their sins, why should they still die? And one of the rnost pressing diHiculties opposed to the evangelical system results from it, that death equally reigns over those who embrace, and those who reject it. To this it is commonly replied, that death is now no longer a punishment for our sins, but a tempest that rolls us to the port, and a pas- sage to a better life. This is a solid reply: but does it perfectly remove the difficulty.' Have we not still a right to ask, Why God should lead us in so strait a way? Why he pleases to make this route so difficult' Why do not his chariots of fire carry us up to heaven, as they once took Elijah? Fo» after all the handsome things one can say, the period of death is a terrible period, and death is still a formidable foe. What labours, what conflicts, what throes, prior to the moment! what doubts, what uncer- tainties, what labouring of thought before we accpiire the degree of confidence to die with fortitude! How disgusting the remedies! How irksome the aids! How severe the separations! How piercing the final farewell! This consti- tutes the difficulty, and the ordinary solution leaves it in all its force. The following remark to me seems to meet the difliculty in a manner more direct. The death of the righteous is an evil, but it is an instructive evil. It is a violent, but a necessary remedy. It is a portrait of the divine justice in view, that we may so live as to avoid be- coming the victims of that justice. It is an awful monuincnt of the horror God has of sin, which should teach us to avoid it. The more submissive the good man was to the divine pleasure, the more distinguished is the monu- ment. The more eminent he was for piety, the more should we be awed by this stroke of justice. Come, and look at this good man in the tomb, and in a putrid state; trace his exit in a bed of aflliction to this dark and obscure abode; see how, after having been emaciated by a severe disease, he is now reserved as a feast for worms. Who was this man? Was he habitually wicked? Was he avowedly an ene- my of God? No: he was a believer; he was a model of virtue and probity. Meanwhile, this saint, this friend of Christ, died: descended from a sinful father, he submitted to the sen- tence, " Dust thou art, and unto dust shalt thou return," Gen. iii. 19. And if those re- mains of corruption were subjugated to a lot so severe, what shall be the situation of those in whom sin reigns? " If the righteous be saved with difficulty, where shall the wicked appear? If the judgment of God begin- at his house, what shall the end be of those that obey not the gospel."' 1 Pet. iv. 17, 18. The law imposed on us to die is, therefore, a requisite, but indeed a violent remedy; and to correspond with the design, we must drink the cup. The death of those who are worthy of our regret, ought to recall to our mind the punishment of sin, and to excite in us that sor- row which is a necessary fruit of true repent- ance. These are the three sorts of sorrow that the death of our friends should excite in our breast. And so far are we from repressing this kind of grief, that we would wish you to feel it in all its force. Go to the tombs of the dead; o^en their cofiins; look on their remains; let each there recognise a husband, or a parent, or chil- dren, or brethren; but instead of regarding them as surrounding him alive, let him suppose himself as lodged in the subterraneous abode with the persons to whom he has been closely united. Look at them deliberately, hear what they say: death seems to have condemned him to an eternal silence; meanwhile they speak; they preach with a voice far more eloquent than ours. We have taught you to shed upon their tombs tears of tenderness: hear the dead, they preach with a voice more eloquent than ours. " Have you forgotten the relations we formed, and the ties that united us? Is it with games and di- versions that you lament our loss? Is it in the circles of gayety, and in public places, that you commemorate our exit'" Wo have exhorted you to shed upon their tomb tears of duty to yourselves. " Hear the dead;" they preach with a voice more eloquent than ours. They cry, " Vanity of vanities. All flesh is grass, and all the goodliness thereof is as the flower of the field. The world passeth away, and the lusts thereof. Surely man walk- eth in a vain shadow," Eccles. i. 2; Isa. xl. 6; 1 John ii. H; Ps. .\xxix. 7. They recall to your mind the afflictions they have endured, the troubles which assailed their mind, and the de- lyliich God requires wo should constantly have 1 liriunu that affected their brain. They recall Ser. XCL] ON THE WISDOM OF SOLOMON. those objects that you may contemplate in their situation an imago of your own; that you may be apprised iiow imperlbctly quaUfied a man is in his last moments for recollection, and tlie work of his salvation. They toll you, that they once had the same liealtli, the same strength, the same fortune, and the same honours as you; notwithstanding, the torrent wliich bore us away, is doing the same with you. We have exiiorted you to siicd upon tlieir tombs tlie tears of repentance. Hear tiie dead; they preach with an eloijuence greater than ours; they say, " that sin has brought death into the world; death which separates the father from the son, and the son from the fatiier; which disunites hearts the most closely attached, and dissolves tlie most intimate and tender ties." They say more: Hear tiie dead — hear some of them, vviio, from the abyss of eternal flames, into whicli they are plunged for impenitency, exhort you to repentance. O! terrific preachers, preachers of despair, may your voice break the hearts of those hear- ers on which our ministry is destitute of energy and etfect. — Hear tliose dead, they speak with a voice more eloquent than ours from the depths of the abyss, from the deep caverns of hell; they cry, "Who among us shall dwell with devour- ing fire? Who among us shall dwell with ever- lasting burnings? Ye mountains fall on us; ye hills cover us. It is a fearful thing to fall into the hands of the living God, when he is angry," Isa. x.v.xiii. 14; Luke x.xiii. 30; Heb. x. 31. Hear the father, who suftering in hell for the bad education given to the family he left on earth. Hear him by tiie despair of his condi- tion; by the chains which oppress him; by the fire which devours him; and by the remorse, the torments, and the anguish which gnaw him, entreat you not to follow him to that abyss. Hear the impure, the accomplice of your plea- sure, who says, that if God had called you the first, you would have been substituted in his place, and who entreats to let your eyes become as fountains of repentant tears. This is the sort of sorrow with which we should be affected for the death of those with whom it has pleased God to connect us by the bonds of society and of nature. May it pene- trate our hearts; and for ever banish the sorrow which confounds us with those who have no hope. Let us be compassionate citizens, faith- ful friends, tender fathers, loving all those with whom it has pleased God to unite us, and not regarding this love as a defect; but let us love our Maker with supreme affection. Let us be always ready to sacrifice to him whatever we have most dear on earth. May a glorious re- surrection be tlie ultimatum of our requests. May the hope of obtaining it assuage all our sufferings. And may God Almighty, who has educated us in a religion so admirably adapted to support in temptation, give success to our efforts, and be the crown of our hopes; .linen. To whom be honour and glory, henceforth and for ever. 341 SERMON XCI. ON THE WISDOM OF SOLOMON. 1 Kings iii. 6 — 14. In Giheon, the Lord appeared to Solomon, in a dream by night: and God said, .Isk ichal I shall give. Jlnd Solomon said, Thou hast showed unto thy servant David, my father, great mercy, according as he walked before thee in truth, and in righteousness, and in uprightness of heart with thee; and thou hast kept for him this great kindness, that thou hast given him a son to sit on his throne, as it is this day. ^ind now, Lord, my God, thou hast made thy servant king instead of David, my father; and I am but a little child; I kno%o not how to go out and come in. .ind thy servant is in the midst of thy people which thou hast chosen, a great people, which cannot be numbered nor counted for mul- titude. Give, therefore, thy servant an under- standing heart, to judge thy people, that J may discern between good and bad: for who is able to judge this thy so great a people? And the speech pleased the Lord, that Solomon had asked this thing. And God said unto him. Because thou h(Uit asked this thing, and hast not asked for thy- self long life; neither hast thou asked riches for thyself; nor hast asked the life of thine enemies, but hast asked for thyself understanding to dis- cern judgment: Behold I have done according to thy ivords. Lo, I have given thee a wise and understanding heart, so that there teas none like thee before thee, neither after thee shall any arise like unto thee. And I have also given thee that which thou hast not asked, both riches and ho- nour; so that there shall not be any among the kings like unto thee all thy days. And if thou ivilt ivalk in my ivays, to keep my statutes and my commandments, as thy father David did walk, then ivill 1 lengthen thy days. " Wo to thee, O land, when thy king is a child!" In tliis way has the sage expressed the calamities of states conducted hymen destitute of experience. But this gençral maxim is not without exceptions. As we sometimes see the gayeties of youth in mature age, so we some- times perceive in youth the gravity of sober years. There are some geniuses premature, with whom reason anticipates on years; and who, if I may so speak, on leaving the cradle, discover talents worthy of the throne. A pro- fusion of supernatural endowments, coming to tiie aid of nature, exemplifies in their character the happy experience of the prophet; " I have more understanding than all my teachers. I • Saurin, placed at the Hague a3 first minister of the persecuted Protestants, and often attended by illustrious characters, saw it his duty to apprise them of the moral sentiments essential for an entrance on high office and ex- tensive authority. The Abbe Mauri/, in his treatise on Elonuencc, though hostile to Saurin, allows this Sermon on the }Visdom of Solomon, to be one of the best speci- mens of his eloquence. 342 ON THE WISDOM OF SOLOMON. [Ser. XCl. understand more than tho ancients," Ps. cxix. 99, 100. Here we have an illustrious proof. Solomon, in the early periods of life, formed tlie corrcctest idea of government which had ever entered tho mind of the profoundest philosojihcrs, or the most consummate statesmen. Awed by tiie sceptre, he acknowledrfcd tlic impoteucy of liis arm to swiiy it. Of the high privilege granted of God, to ask whatever he would, he availed himself solely to ask wisdom. Wiiat an ad- mirable choice! How many aged men have we seen less enligiitencd tiian tiiis youth? On tlie other hand, God honoured a petition so wise, by superadding to the petitioner every other endowment: he gave to Solomon wisdom, and with wisdom, glory and riches; he elevated him to a scale of grandeur, wiiicii no prince ever did, or ever shall be allowed to equal. It is to tliis petition so judicious, and to this reply so magnificent, that we shall call your attention, after having bestowed a moment on occasion of both. It occurs in the leading words of our text. It was a divine communication, in which the place, the manner, and the subject, claim parti- cular attention. 1. The ])lace: it was in Gibeon; not the city from which those Gibeonites derived tiicir name, who, by having recourse to singular arti- fice, saved their lives, which they thought them- selves unable to defend by force, or to preserve by compassion. That, I would say, the city of those Gibeonites, was a considerable place, and called in the Book of Joshua, a royal city. The other was situate on the highest mountains of Judea, distant, according to Euscbius and St. Jerome, about eigiit miles from Jerusalem. We shall not enter into geograpiiical discus- sions. What claims attention is, a circumstance of the place where Solomon was, whicli natu- rally recalls to view one of the weaknesses of this prince. It is remarked at tiie connnence- ment of the chapter, from which we have taken our text, that " the people sacrificed in high places." The choice was, probably, not exempt from superstition: it is certain, at least, that idolaters usually selected tlie highest mountains for the exercise of their religious ceremonies. Tacitus assigns as a reason, that in those places, being nearer the gods, they were the more likely to be heard. Lucian reasons much in the same way, and, without a doubt, less to vindicate the custom than to expose it to contempt. God himself has forbidden it in law. We have, however, classed this circumstance in Solomon's life among his frailties, ratlier than his faults, rrevenlion for high places was much less culpable in the reign of this prince, than in the ages which followed. In those ages, the Israelites violated, by sacrificing on high places, the law which forbade any sacrifice to be ofiered, except in the temple of Jerusalem; whereas, in the age of which we now speak, the temple did not exist. The people sacrificed on the l)ra/.en altar, constructed by the divine command. This altar was then in Gil)eon, where it had been escorted witii the tabernacle, as we read in the book of Chronicles. 2. The manner in which the revelation to Solomon was made, supplies a second source of reflections. It was, says the historian, in a I dream. We have elsewhere* remarked, that there are three sorts of dreams. Some are in tho order of nature; others are in the order of providence; and a third class are of an order superior to both. 1 call dreams in tiie order of nature, those which ought merely to be regarded as tho irre- gular flights of imagination, over which the will has lost, or partially lost, its command. I call dreams in the order of providence, those which without deviation from the course of nature, excite certain instructive ideas, and suggest to the mind truths, to whicli we were not sufficiently attentive while awake. Provi- dence sometimes directing our attention to pe- culiar circumstances in a way purely natural, and destitute of all claims to the supernatural, and much less to the marvellous. Some dreams, however, are of an order su- perior to those of nature, and of providence. It was by this sort of dreams that God revealed his pleasure to the prophets: but this dispensa- tion being altogether divine, and of which tho Scriptures say little, and being impossible for the researches of the greatest philosopher to supply the silence of the Holy Ghost, we shall make no fruitless efforts farther to illustrate the manner of the revelation with which Solo- mon was honoured. 3. A reason very dissimilar supersedes our stopping to illustrate the subject; I would say, it has no need of illustration. God was wish- ful to put Solomon to the proof, by prompting him to ask whatsoever he would, and by en- gaging to fulfil it. Solomon's reply was wor- thy of the test. His sole request was for wis- dom. God honoured this enlightened request; and in granting profound wisdom to his ser- vant, he superadded riches, and glory, and long life. — It is this enlightened request, and this munificent reply, we are now to examine. We shall examine them jointly, placing, at the same time, the harmony of the one with the other, in a just and proper view. Four re- marks demand attention in Solomon's request to God, and fuur in God's reply. I. Consider, in Solomon's request, the recol- lection of past mercies: " Thou hast showed unto thy servant David, my father, great mer- cy:" and mark, in the reply, how pleasing this recollection was to God. II. Consider, in Solomon's request, the as- pect under which he regarded the regal power. He considered it solely with a view to the high duties on which it obliged him to enter. " Thy servant is in the midst of thy people which thou hast cliosen, a great people, which can- not be numbered nor counted for multitude. Who is able to judge tiiis thy so great a peo- ple?" And in God's re])ly, mark the opposite seal, with regard to this idea of tho supreme authority. HI. Consider, in Solomon's request, tho sen- timents of his own weakness and the conscious- ness of his insufliciency: " I am but as a little child, and know not how to go out, and to come in:" and in God's reply, mark how high- ly he is delighted with humility. IV. In Solomon's reijuest, consider tlie wis- dom of his choice; "Give, therefore, unto thy ' DiKoura Hist. torn. v. p. 184. Ser. XCL] ON THE WISDOM OF SOLOMON. 343 servant an understanding heart to judge thy people:" and in God's reply, mark how Solo- mon's prayer was heard, and his wisdom crowned. Four objects, all worthy of our re- gard. I. Consider, in Solomon's request, the recol- lection of mercies. It was the mercies of Da- vid, his father. Solomon made this reference as a motive to obtain the divine mercies and aids his situation required. lie aspired at the blessings which God confers on the children of faithful fathers. lie wished to become the ob- ject of that promise in which God stands en- gao-ed to " show mercy to tliousands of gene- rations of those that love him," Exod. xx. 6. This is the first object of our discourse. The privilege of an illustrious birth, I confess, is sometimes extravagantly amplified. This kind of folly is not novel in the present age: it was the folly of the Hebrew nation. To most of the rebukes of their prophets, they opposed this extraordinary defence: '' We are Abra- ham's seed; we have Abraham to our father," Matt. iii. 9. What an apology! Does an il- lustrious birth sanction low and grovelling sen- timents. Do the virtues of our ancestors ex- cuse us from being virtuous? And has God for ever engaged to excuse impious children, because their parents were pious? You are the children of Abraham; you have an illustrious descent; your ancestors were the models and glory of their age. Then you are the more inexcusable for being the reproach of your age; then you are the faithless depositories of the nobility with which you have been intrusted; then you have degenerated from your former grandeur: then you shall be condemned to sur- render to nature a corrupted blood, which you received pure from those to whom you owe your birth. It is true, however, all things being weighed, i that, in tracing a descent, it is a singular fa- vour of Heaven to be able to cast one's eyes on a long line of illustrious ancestors. I am not about to offer incense to the idol of distin- guished families; the Lord's church has more correct ideas of nobility. To be accounted no- ble in the sanctuary, we must give proof of virtue, and not of empty titles, which often owe their origin to the vanity, the seditions, and fawning baseness of those who display them with so much pride. To be noble in the language of our Scriptures; and to be impure, avaricious, haughty, and implacable, are dif- ferent ideas. But charity, but patience, but moderation, but dignity of soul, and a certain elevation of mind, place the possessor above the world and its maxims. These are charac- teristics of the nobility of God's children. In this view, it is a high favour of Heaven, in tracing one's descent, to be able to cast the eye on along line of illustrious ancestors. How often have holy men availed themselves of these motives to induce the Deit}', if not to bear with the Israelites in their course of crimes, at least to pardon them after the crimes have been committed? How often have they said, in the supplications they opposed to the wrath of Heaven, " O God, remember Abraham, and Isaac, and Jacob, thy servants!" How often has God yielded to the strength of these argumenta' How often has lie, for the sake of the patriarchs, for the sake of David, heard prayer in behalf of their children? Let these maxims be deej)ly imprinted on the heart. Our own interest should be motive sufficient to prompt us to piety. But we should also be e.xcited to it by the interest of our children. The recollection of our virtues is the best inheritance we can leave them after death. These virtues aflbrd them claims to the divine favours. The good will of Hea- ven, is, in some sort, entailed on families who fear the Lord. IIapi)y the fathers, when ex- tended on the bed of death, who can say, " My cliildren, I am about to appear before the awful tribunal, where there is no resource for poor mortals, but humility and repentance. Mean- while, I bless God, that notwithstanding my defects, which I acknowledge with confusion of face, you will not have cause to blush on pronouncing; the name of your father. I have been faithfiil to the truth, and have constantly walked before God, "in the uprightness of my heart." Happy the children who have such a descent; I would prefer it to titles the most distinguished, to riches the most dazzling, and to offices the most lucrative. " O God, thou hast showed iBito thy servant David, my fa- ther, great mercy, according as he walked be- fore thee in truth, and in righteousness, and in uprightness of heart!" Here is the recollec- tion of past mercies, the recollection of which God approves, and the first object of our dis- course. II. Consider, secondly, in the prayer of So- lomon, the aspect under which he contemplated the regal pùwer. He viewed it principally with regard to the high duties it imposed. " Thy ser Vint is in the midst of thy people which thou hast chosen; who is able to judge this thy so great a people, which cannot be numbered.'* The answer of God is a corres- pondent seal to this idea of supreme authority- And whative here say of the regal power, wc apply to eVery other office of trust and dignity. A man of integrity must not view them with regard to the emoluments they produce, but with regard to the duties they impose. What iB the end proposed by society on ele- vating certain men to high stations? Is it to augment their pride? Is it to usher them into a style af life the most extravagant' Is it to a2'grane|>li of St. Maria ou the expedition to the East Indii». t Maraecio ou the Alcoran, chap. vi. • Chap, on women. | Preface, page 14. } Chap, on Ruth, || Chap, of orders. & See Maraccio's Life of Maihomet, page 10. IT Simon's Hist. Crit. of the Faith of the Nations of the Levant. *• Mararcio, preface, page 14. col. 2. tt Ibid, page 13. Ser. XCIII.] CHRISTIAN RELIGION. 357 version of tlio pagan world, and by tlio pro- gress of tlic gospel, and whicli can find no parallel in the religion of Maliomet, projjagat- ed with the sword, as is confessed by his fol- lowers, who say, that he fought sixty battles, and called himscK llie military propliet. Where- as Christianity was established by the prodigies of the Spirit, and by force of argument. The mysteries of the gospel are not therefore in the first class, which render a religion suspected. They do not conceal its origin. This is what wo pro|)osed to prove. II. Mysteries should expose a religion to suspicion, when tliey impl}' an absurdity. Yes, and if Christianity notwitlistanding the lumin- ous proofs of its divine authority; notwith- standing the miracles of its founder; notwith- standing the sublimity of its doctrines; notwith- standing the sanctity of its moral code, the completion of its prophecies, the magnificence of its promises; notwithstanding the convinc- ing facts which prove that the books contain- ing this religion were written by men divinely inspired; notwithstanding the number and the grandeur of its miracles; notwithstanding the confession of its adversaries, and its public monuments; if it was possible, notwithstand- ing all this, should the Christian religion in- clude absurdities, it ought to be rejected. Be- cause, Every character of the divinity here adduc- ed, is founded on argument. Whatever is de- monstrated to a due degree of evidence ought to be admitted without dispute. The proofs of the divine authority of religion are demon- strated to that degree; therefore the Christian religion ought to be received without dispute. But were it possible that a contradiction should exist; were it possible that a proposition, ap- jjearing to us evidently false, should be true, evidence would no longer then be the charac- ter of truth, and if evidence should no longer be the character of truth, you would have no farther marks by which you could know that a religion is divine. Consequently, you could not be assured, that the gospel is divine. To me, nothing is more true than this proposition, a whole is greater than a part. I would reject a religion how true soever it might appear, if it contradicted this fact; because, how evident soever the proofs might be alleged in favour of its divinity, they could never be more evi- dent than the rejected proposition, that a whole is greater than a part. Our proposition is there- fore confirmed, that mysteries ought to render a religion suspected when they imply absurdi- ties. We wish you to judge of the Christian religion according to this rule. Now if there be in our gospels a doctrine concerning which a good logician has apparent cause to exclaim, it is this; a God, who has but one essence, and who nevertheless has three persons; the Son, and the Holy Spirit who is God; and these three are but one. The Father, who is with the Son, docs not become incarnate, when the Son becomes incarnate. The Son, who is with the Fatlicr, no longer maintains the rights of justice in Gethsemane, when the Father maintains them. The Holy Spirit, who is with the Father and the Son, proceeds from both in a manner ineffable: and the Father and the Son, who is with the Holy Spirit, do not proceed in this manner. Are not these ideas contradictory? No, my brethren. If we should say, that God has but one es- sence, and that he has three essences, in the same sense that we maintain ho has but one; if wo should say, that God is three in the same sense he is one, it would bo a contradic- tion. But this is not our thesis. We believe on the faith of a divine book, that God is one in the sense to which we give the confused name of essence. We believe that he is three in a sense to which we give the confused name of persons. We determine neither what is this essence, nor what is this personality. That sur- passes reason but does not revolt it. If we should say, that God in the sense wo have called Essence, is become incarnate, and at the same time this notion is not incarnate, we should advance a contradiction. But this is not our tjiesis. We believe on the faith of a divine book, that what is called the person of the Son in the Godhead, and of which we confess that we have not a distinct idea, is united to the humanity in a manner we cannot determine, because it has not pleased God to reveal it. This surpasses reason, but does not revolt it. If we should advance, that God (the Spirit) in the sense we have called Essence, proceeds from the Father and the Son, while tiie Father and the Son do not proceed, we should advance a contradiction. But this is not our thesis. We believe on the credit of a divine book, that what is called the Holy Spirit in the God- head, and of which we confess we have no distinct idea, because it has not pleased God to give it, has procession ineffable, while what is called the Father and the Son, differing from the Holy Spirit in that respect, do not proceed. This surpasses reason, but does not revolt it. We go even farther. We maintain not only that there is no contradiction in those doc- trines, but that a contradiction is impossible. What is a contradiction in regard to us? It is an evident opposition between two known ideas. For instance, I have an idea of this pul- pit, and of this wall. I see an essential differ- ence between the two. Consequently, I find a contradiction in the proposition, that this wall, and this pidj)it are the same being. Such being the nature of a contradiction, I say, it is impossible that any should be found in this proposition, that there is one divine es- sence in tlu-ee persons: to find a contradiction, it is requisite to have a distinct idea of what I call essence, and of what I call person: and, as I i)rofess to be perfectly ignorant of the one, and the other, it is impossible I should find an absurdity. VVlien, therefore, I atfirm, that there is a divine essence in tlirce persons, I do not pretend to explain either the nature of the unity, or the natiu-e of the Trinity. I pretend to advance only that there is something in God which surpasses me, and which is the basis of this proposition; viz. there is a Father, a Son, and a Holy Spirit. But though the Christian religion be fully exculpated for teaching doctrines which destroy themselves, the Church of Rome cannot be jus- tified, whatever efforts her greatest geniuses may make, in placing the doctrine of the Trini- 358 DIFFICULTIES OF THE [Ser. XCIII. ty, on tlie parallel with the doctrine of tran- substantiation, and in defending it against us with tlie same argument witii which we defend tiic other against unbelievers. Were we, I allow, to seek the faith of the church of Rome in the writings of some indi- vidual doctors, this doctrine would be less lia- ble to objections. Some of them iiave express- ed themselves, on this subject, in an undeter- mined way; and have avoided detail. They say in general, that the body of Ciirist is in the sacrament of the euciiarist, and that they do not presume to define the manner. J5ut we must seek the faith (and it is the method which all should follow who have a controversy to maintain against those of that communion;) we must, I say, seek the faith of the church of Rome in the decisions of lier ge- neral councils, and not in the works of a few individuals. And as the doctors of the council of Trent lived in a dark age, in whicli philoso- phy had not purified the errors of the schools, they had the indiscretion, not only to deter- mine, but also to detail this doctrine; and there- by committed themselves by a manifest contra- diction. Hear the third canon of the third ses- sion of the council of Trent. " If any one deny, that in the venerable sacrament of the eucharist, the body of Christ is really present in both kinds, and in such sort that the body of Christ is wholly present in every separate part of the host, let him be anathematized." Can one fall into a more manifest contradic- tion? If you should say, that the bread is de- stroyed, and that the body of Christ intervenes by an effort of divine omnipotence, you might perhaps shelter yourself from the reproach of absurdity; you might escape under the plea of mystery, and the limits of the human mind. But to affirm that the substance of the bread is destroyed, while the kinds of bread, which are still but the same bread, modified in such a manner, subsist, is not to advance a mystery, but an absurdity. It is not to prescribe bounds to the human mind, but to revolt its convic- tions, and extinguish its knowledge. If you should say, that tho body of Clirist, which is in heaven, passes in an instant from heaven to earth, you might perhaps shelter yourself from the reproach of absurdity, and escape under the plea of mystery, and of tho limits of the human mind. But to affirm, tiiu^: the body of Christ, while it is wholly in hea- ven, is wholly on earth, is not to advance a mystery, but to maintain a contradiction. It is to revolt all its convictions, and to extinguish all its knowledge. If you should say, that some parts of the body of Jesus Christ arc detached, and mixed 'vith the symbols of tho holy sacrament, you miirht perhaps avert the charge of contradic- tion, and escape under the plea of mystery, arid the limits of tho human mind. But to af- firm, that the body of ('hrist is but one in num- ber, and meanwhile, that it is perfect and en- tire in all the parts of the host, which are with- out number, is not to advance a mystery, it is to maintain a contradiction. It is not to pre- scribe bounds to tho human mind, but to revolt all its convictions, and to extinguish all its knowledge. So you may indeed conclude, my brothrcn, from what wo said at the commencement of tliis article. A Roman Catholic, consonant to his principles, has no right to believe the divine authority of the Christian religion, for the evi- dences of Christianity terminate on this princi- ple, that evidence is the character of truth. But if the doctrine of transubstantiation bo true, palpable absurdities ought to be believed by the Roman Catholic; evidence, in regard to him, being no longer the character of truth. If evidence in regard to him be no longer the character of trutli, proofs the most evident in favour of Christianity, can carry no conviction to him, and he is justified in not believing them. I go fartlier still; I maintain to the most zealous defender of tlie doctrine of transubstan- tiation, that properly speaking, he does not be- lieve the doctrine of transubstantiation. He may indeed verbally assert his faith, but he can never satisfy his conscience: he may indeed be- cloud his mind by a confusion of ideas, but he can never induce it to harmonize contradictory ideas: he may indeed inadvertently adhere to this proposition, « body having but a limited dr- cwnftrence, is at the same time in heaven, and at the same time on earth, rdlh the same circumfe- rence. But no man can believe this doctrine, if by believing, you mean the connecting of distinct ideas; for no man whatever can connect together both distinct and contradictory. III. We have said in the tiiird place, that mysteries should render a religion suspected, when they hide certain practices contrary to virtue and good manners. This was a charac- teristic of paganism. The pagans for the most part affected a great air of mystery in their religions exercises. They said, that mystery conciliated respect for the gods. Hence, di- viding their mysteries into two classes, they had their major and their minor mysteries. But all these were a covert for impurity! Who can read without horror the mysteries of the god Apis, e- "n as they are recorded in pagan authors? What infamous ceremonies did they not practise in honour of Venus, when initiated into the secrets of the Goddess? What myste- rious precautions did they not adopt concerning the mysteries of Ceres in the city of Eleusia' No man was admitted without mature expe- rience, and a long probation. It was so esta- blished, that those who were not initiated, could not participate of the secrets. Nero did not dare to gratify his curiosity on this head;* and the wish to know secrets allowed to bo dis- closed only by gradual approach, was regarded as a presumption. It was forbidden under the penalty of death to disclose those mysteries, and solely, if we may believe Theodoret, and Tertullian, to hide the abominable ceremonies, whose detail would defile the majesty of this place. And if the recital would so deeply de- file, what must the practice be? The mysteries of Christianity are infinitely distant from all those infamous practices. The rrospcl not only exhibits a most hallowing mo- rality, but whatever mysteries it may teach, it requires that wo should draw from their very obscurity motives to sanctity of life. If we say, that there are three persons who participate in ' Life of Nero by Suetonius, chap. 34» Ser. XCIII.] CHRISTIAN RELIGION. 359 the divine Essence, it is to make you conceive, that all whicii is in God, if I may so speak, is interested for our salvation, and to enkindle our eflbrls by tlie tliouçht. If we say, tiiat tiie Word was made flesi), and that the Son of God expired on the cross, it is to make you abhor sin by tiie idea of what it cost him to ex- piate it. If we say, that grace operates in the heart, and that in the work of our salvation, grace forms the desiijfn and the execution, it is with this inference, tiiat we should " work out our own salvation with fear and trembling." If we teach even the doctrines of God's de- crees, it is " to make our calling sure," Phil, ii. 12; 1 Pet. i. 10. IV. "We have lastly said, that mysteries should render a religion doubtful, when we find a system, which on rejecting those mysteries, is exempt from greater difliculties than those we would attack. We make this remark as a compliment to unbelievers, and to the impure class of brilliant wits. When we have proved, reasoned, and demonstrated; when wo have placed the arguments of religion in the clearest degree of evidence tiiey can possibly attain: and when we would decide in favour of reli- gion, they invariably insinuate, that " religion has its mysteries; that religion has its difficul- ties;" and they make these the apology of their unbelief I confess, this objection would have some colour, if there were any system, which on ex- empting us from the difficulties of religion, did not involve in still greater. And whenever they produce that system, we are ready to em- brace it. Associate all the difficulties of whicli we al- low religion to be susceptible. Associate what- ever is incomprehensible in the doctrine of the Trinity, and in the ineffable manner in which the three persons subsist, who are the object of our worship. Add thereto whatever is super- natural in the operations of the Holy Spirit, and in the mysterious methods he adopts to penetrate the heart. Neither forget the depths into which we are apparently cast by the doc- trines of God's decrees, and maice a complete code of the whole. To these difficulties which we avow, join all those we do not avow. Join all the pretexts you affect to find in the arguments which na- ture affords of the being of a God, and the re- ality of a providence. Join thereto whatever you shall find the most forcible against the au- thenticity of our sacred books, and what has been thought the most plausible against the marks of Divine authority exhibited in those Scriptures. Join to these all the advantages presumed to be derived from the diversity of opinions existing in the Ciiristian world, and in all its sects which constantly attack one another. Make a new code of all these difficulties. — Form a system of your own objections. Draw the conclusions from your own principles, and build an edifice of infidelity on the ruins of re- ligion. But for what system can you decide which is not infinitely less supportable than re- ligion? Do you espouse that of atheism.' Do you Bay, that the doctrine of the being of a God owes its origin to superstition and the fears of men.' And is this the systcm whicli has no dif- ficultiea' Have rational men need to be con- vinced, that the mysteries of religion are infi- nitely more defensible than the mysteries of atheism. Do you espouse the part of irreligion.' Do you allow with Epicures, that there is a God; but that the sublimity of his Majesty obstructs his stooping to men, and the extension of his regards to our temples, and our altars? And is this the system which has no difficulties? How do you reply to the infinity of objections op- posed to this system? How do you answer this argument, that God having not disdained to create mankind, it is inconceivable he should disdain to govern them? How do you reply to a second, the inconceivableness that a perfect being should form intelligences, and not pre- scribe their devotion to his glory? And what do you say to a third, that religion is complete- ly formed, and fully proved in every man's conscience? Do you take the part of denying a divine revelation? And is this the system which is ex- empt from difficulties? Can you really prove that our books were not composed Jjy the au- thors to whom they are ascribed? Can you really prove that those men have not wrought miracles? Can you really prove that the Bible is not the book the most luminous, and the most sublime, that ever appeared on earth,' Can you really prove, that fishermen, publi- cans, and tent-makers, and whatever was low- est among the mean populace of Judea; can you prove, that people of this description, have without divine assistance, spoken of the origin of the world; and of the perfections of God; of the nature of man, his constitution, and his du- ties, in a manner more grand, noble, and better supported than Plato, than Zeno, than Epicu- rus, and all the sublime geniuses, which render antiquity venerable, and which still fill the universe with their fame? Do you espouse the cause of deism? Do you say with the Latitudinarian, that if there be a religion, it is not shut up in the narrow bounds which we prescribe? Do you maintain that all religions are indifferent? Do you give a false gloss to the apostle's words, that " in all na- tions he that feareth God is accepted of him?" Acts X. 35. And is tliis the system which is exempt from difficulties? How, superseding thq authority of the Bible, will you maintain this principle? How will you maintain it against the terrors God denounces against the base, " and the fearful," Rev. xxi. 8; against the in- junction " to go out of Babylon; against the duty prescribed of confessing him in presence of all men," Isa. xlviii. 20; Matt. x. 32; and with regard to the fortitude he requires us to display on the rack, and when surrounded with fire and fagots, and when called to brave them for the sake of^ truth! How will you maintain it against the care he has taken to teach you the truth without any mixture of lies? Do you take the part of believing nothing? Do you conclude from these difficulties, that the best system is to have none at all. Obsti- nate Pyrrhonian, you are then resolved to doubt of all! And is tliis the system which is exempt from difficulties? When you shall be agreed with yourself; when you have conciliated your singular system with tho convictions of your 360 DIFFICULTIES OF THE [Ser. XCIII. mind, with the Bentiments of your heart, and with the dictates of your conscience, then you ehall see wliat we have to rei)ly. What tiien shall you do to find a light with- out darkness, and an evidence to your mind? Do you take the part of the libertine? Do you abandon to colleges the care of religion, and leaving the doctors to waste life deciding who is wrong, and who is right, are you determined as to yourself to rush head foremost into the world? \)o you say witli tiie profane, " Let us cat and drink, for to-morrow we die?" Do you enjoy the present without pursuing uncertain rewards, and alarming your mind with fears of miseries which perhaps may never come? And is this the system destitute of mysteries? Is this the system preferred to what is said by our apos- tles, our evangelists, our doctors, our pastms, and by all the holy men God has raised up "for the perfecting of the saints, and for the work of tlie ministry?" But though the whole of your ob- jections were founded; though the mysteries of the gospel were a thousand times more dilKcult to penetrate; though our knowledge were in- comparably more circumscribed; and though religion should be infinitely less demonstrated than it is; siiould this be the part you ought to take? The sole probability of religion, should it not induce us, if not to believe it, yet at least, £0 to act, as if in fact we did believe it? And the mere alternative of an eternal happiness, or an eternal misery, should it not sulllce to re- strict us within the limits of duty, and to regu- late our life, iir such sort, that if there be a hell, we may avoid its torments? We conc}ude. Religion has its mysteries; we acknowledge it with j)leasure. Religion has its difficulties; we avow it. Religion is shook (we grant this for the moment to unbelievers, though we detest it in our hearts,) religion is shook, and ready to fall by brilliant wits. But after all, the mysteries of the gospel are not of that cast which should render a religion doubt- ful. But after all, Cliristianity all shook, all wavering, and ready to fall, as it may appear to the intidel, contains what is most certain, and the wisest part a rational man can talie, is to adiiere to it with an inviolable attachment. But how evident soever these arguments may be, and however strong this apology for tiie . difficulties of religion may appear, there always remains a question on this subject, and indeed an important question, which we cannot omit resolving without leaving a chasm in this dis- course. Why these mysteries? Why these sha- dowa* And why this darkness? Does not the goodness of God engage to remove this stum- bling-block, and to give us a religion radiant with truth, and destitute of any obscuring veil? There are various reasons, my brethren, which render certain doctrines of religion impene- trable to us. The first argument of the weakness of our knowledge is derived from the limits of the hu- man mind. It is requisite that you should fa- vour me here with a little more of recollection than is usually bestowed on a sermon. It is not requisite to bo a pliilosoplierto become a Chris- tian. Tlie doctrines of our religion, and the precepts of our moral code, are sanctioned by the testimony of an infallible God: and not de- riving tlieir origin from tiie speculations of men, it is not from their approbation that they derive their authority. Meanwhile, it is a felicity, we must confess, and an anticijiation of the happy period when our faith shall be changed to sight, to find in sound reason the basis of all the grand truths religion reveals, and to convince our- selves by experience, that the more we know of man, the more we see tliat religion was made for man. Let us return to our first principle. The narrow limits of the human mind shall open one source of ligiit on the subject we dis- cuss; tliey shall convince us, tliat minds cir- cumscrilied, as ours, cannot before the time pe- netrate far into tlie adorable mysteries of faith. We have elsewhere distinguished three facul- ties in tiie mind of man, or rather three classes of faculties wliich comprise whatever we know of thisspirit; tiio faculty of thinking; the faculty oi' feeling; and the faculty oHoving. Examine these three faculties, and you will be convinced that the mind of man is circumscribed within narrow bounds; they are so closely circum- scribed, that while attentively contemplating a certain object, they cannot attend to any other. You experience this daily with regard to the faculty of thinking. Some persons, I allow, extend attention much beyond common men; but in all it is extremely confined. This is so received an opinion, that we regard as prodigies of intellect, those who have the art of attending closely to two or three objects at once; or of di- recting the attention, without a glance of the eye, on any game, apparently less invented to unbend than to exercise the mind. Meanwhile, this power is extremely limited in all men. If the mind can distinctly glance on two or three objects. at once, the fourth or the fifth confounds it. Properly to study a subject, we must attend to that alone; be abstracted from all others, forgetful of what we do, and blind to what we see. The faculty of feeling is as circumscribed as that of thinking. One sensation absorbs or di- niiiiishes another. A wound received in the heat of battle; in the tumult, or in the sight of tlie general whose approbation we seek, is less acute than it would be on a ditferent occasion. For the like reason the same pain we have borne during the day, is insupportable in the night. Violent anguish renders us insensible of a diminutive pain. Whatever diverts from a pleasing sensation diminishes the pleasure, and blunts enjoyment; and this is done by the reason already assigned; that while the faculty is attentive to one object, it is incapable of ap- plication to another. It is the same with regard to the faculty of loving. It rarely happens that a man can in- dulge two or three leading passions at once: " No man can serve two masters: for either he will hate the one, and love the other; or else ho will hold to the one, and despise the other." So is the assertion of Jesus Christ, who knew the human heart better than all the i)hilosopliere put together. The passion of avarice, for the most part, diminishes the passion of glory; and the passion of glory, diminishes that of avarice. It is the same witii the other passions. Besides, not only an object engrossing a fa- culty, obstructs its |)rofouiid attention to any other object related to that faculty; but when a faculty is deeply engrossed by an object, all Ser. XCIII.] CHRISTIAN RELIGION. 361 others, if I may so speak, rciiiain in solitude and slumber; tlio capacity of the soul bciiiir wholly absorbod. A man who concentrates himself in research, in the illustration of a dilli- culty, in the solution of a problem, in the con- templation of a combined truth; he loses for the moment, the faculty of feelinir, and becomes insensible of sound, of noise, of light. A man, on the contrary, who freely abandons himself to a violent sensation, or whom God aillicts acutely, loses for the time, the ficuhy of think- ing. Speak, reason, and examine; draw con- secjuences, and all that is foreign to this point: lie is no longer a thinking being; he is a feeling being, and wholly so. Thus the principle we establish is an indisputable axiom in the study of man, that the human mind is circumscribed, and inclosed in very narrow limits. The relation of this principle to the subject we discuss, obtrudes itself on our regard. A slight reflection on the limits of the human mind will convince us, that men who make so slow a progress in abstruse science, can never fathom the deep mysteries of religion. And it is the more evident, as these limited faculties can never be wholly ai)plied to the stud}' of truth. There is no moment of life, in which they are not divided; there is no moment in which they are not engaged in the care of the bod}', in the recollection of some fugitive ideas, and on sub- jects which have no connexion with those to which we would direct our study. A second reason of the limits of our know- ledge arises from those very mysteries which excite obscurity, astonishment, and awe. What are those mysteries? Of what do they treat? They treat of what is the most elevated and sublime: they concern the essence of the Cre- ator: tiiey concern the attributes of the Supreme Being: they concern whatever has been tliought the most immense in the mind of eternal wis- dom: they concern the traces of that impetuous wind, " which blows where it lisleth," and which moves in one moment to every part of the universe. And we, insignificant beings; we altogether obstructed, confounded, and absorb- ed, we affect an air of surprise because we can- not fathom the depths of those mysteries! It is not merely while on earth that we cannot com- prehend those immensities; but wc can never comprehend tliem in the other world; because God is always unlimited, always infinite, and always above the reach of circumscribed intel- ligences; and because we shall be always finite, always limited, always creatures circumscribed. Perfect knowledge belongs to God alone. " Canst thou by searching find out God? Canst thou find out the Almighty unto perfection? It is as high as heaven, what canst thou do? deeper than hell, what canst tliou know?" Job xi. 1, S. " Where wast thou when he laid the founda- tions of the eartli? Wiien he sluit up the sea with doors? When he made the clouds the gar- ments thereof, and thick darkness a swaddling band for it. When he subjected it to his laws, and prescribed its barriers, and said, hiliierto shall thou come, and here shall thy proud waves be stayed?" xxxviii. 4. 9 — 11. '"Who hath known the mind of the Lord, or who hath been Ids counsellor? Or who hath first given him, and it shall be recompensed unto him again? O the depth of the riches both of the wisdom, Vol. II.— 46 and of the knowledge of God^ how unsearchable are liis judgments, and his ways past finding out!" Rom. xi. 33 — 35. Let us adore a Being so immense; and let his incomprehensibility servo to give us the more exalted ideas of his grandeur; and seeing we can never know him to perfection, let us, at the least, form tiie noble desire of knowing him as far as it is allowable to finite intelligences. And as Manoah, who, afler receiving the mysterious vision recorded Judges xiii. prayed the angel of the Lord, say- ing, "Tell me, I "pray thee, thy name;" and received the answer, " It is wonderful;" so should wc say wit!» this holy man, " I pray tliee, tell me tliy name," give me to know thid " wonderful name." Let us say with Mo.ses, " Lord, let me see thy glory," Exod. xxxiii. 18. And with the ]>rophet, " Lord, open thou mino eyes, that I may behold the marvels of thy law," I's. cxix. 18. The lliird cause of the obscurity of our know- ledge is, that truths tiie most simple, and ob- jects the least combined, have, however, certain depths and abysses beyond the reach of thought; because truths the most simple, and objects the least combined, have a certain tie willi infinity, that tlicy cannot be comprehended without comprehending this infinity. Nothing is more simple, nothing is less combined, in regard to me, than this proposition; tliere are certain ex- terior olijocts which actually strike my eyes, which excite certain emotions in my brain, and certain perceptions in my mind. Meanwhile, this proposition so simple, and so little com- bined, has certain depths and obscurities above my thought, because it is connected with other inquiries concerning this infinity, which I can- not compreiiend. It is connected witli tliis; cannot the perfect Being excite certain percep- tions in my mind, and emotions in my brain witliout the aid of exterior objects? It is con- nected with another; will the goodness and trutii of this perfect Being suffer certain per- cei)tions to be excited in the mind, and emotions in tlie brain, by which we forcibly believe that certain exterior objects exist, when in fact, they do not exist' It is connected with divers other inquiries of like nature, which involve us in discussions, whicii absorb and confound our feeble genius. Thus, we arc not only incapable of fathoming certain inquiries which regard in- finity, but wc are equally incapable of fully satisfying ourselves concerning those that are simple, because they are connected with the infinite. Prudence, therefore, requires tliat men should admit, as proved, the truths which have, in regard to them, the characters of demonstra- tion. It is by these characters they should judffc. But after all, tiiere is none but the per- fectBcing, who can have perfect demonstration; at least, tiie perfect Being alone can fully per- ceive in the immensity of his knowledge, all the connexions which finite beings have with the infinite. A fourth reason of the obscurity of our know- ledge, is the grand end God proposed when he placed us upon the earth: tliis end is our sancti- fication. Tlie questions on which religion leaves so much obscurity, do not devolve on simple principles, which may be comprehended in a moment. The acutest mathematician, he who can make a [lerfect demonstration of a given 362 DIFFICULTIES OF TIIL CIIKISTIAiN RELIGION. [Ser. XCIIJ. number, cannot do it in a moment, if that number bu complicated: and tlie tardy conipre- lieiision of liim to wliom a coniplii^atcd pro- blem is demonstrated, requires a still i^reater length of time. He nmsl comprehend by a succession of ideas what cannot be i)rovcd by a single glance of the eye. A man, j)osted on an elevated tower, ma}' see at once the whole of a considerable army in motion; but he at the base of this tower, can see them only as llicy present themsulves in succession. God is e.valled above all creatures; he sees the whole by a single regard. He has but, if I may so npeak, to ajjply his mind, and all are seen at once. Jiut we, poor abject creatures, we are placed iu tiie humblest point of the uni- verse. How then can we, during the period of f'fty, or if you please, a hundred years of life, destined to active duties, how can we pre- sume to make a combination of all the Crea- tor's perfections and designs, though he him- self should deign in so great a work to be our guide. Great men have said, that all possible plans were presented to the mind of God when lie made the universe, and that, comparing them one with another, he chose the best. Let us make the supposition wilhoul adopting it; let us suppose that God, wishful to justify to our mind the plan he has adopted, should pre- sent to us all his plans; and comparison alone could ensure approbation; but does it imi)ly a contradiction, that fifty, or a hundred years of life, engrossed by active duties, should sulhco for so vast a design.' Had God encumbered religion with the illustration of all abstruse «loctrines, concerning which it observes a pro- found silence; and with the ex|)licalion of all the mysteries it imperfectly reveals; had he e.\- plained to us tiie depths of his nature and es- sence; had he discovered to us the immense combination of his attributes; had he qualified us to trace the unsearchable ways of his Spirit in our heart; had he shown us the origin, the end, and arrangement of his counsels; had ho wished to gratify the infinite inquiries of our curiosity, and to acquaint us with the object of his views during the absorbing revolutions prior to the birth of time, and witli tliose which must follow it; had he thus nmlliplied to in- finity speculative ideas, what time should we have had lor practical duties.' Dissipated by the cares of life, occupied with ils wants, and sentenced to the toils it in)()oses, what time would have remained to succour the wretched, to visit the sick, and to comfort the distressed.' Yea, and what is still more, to study and van- quish our own heart' — O how admirably is the way of God, in the restriction of our knowledge, worthy of his wisdom! Ho has taugiit us no- thing but what has the most intimate connex- ion with our duties, that we might ever be at- tentive to them, and that tliere is nothing in religion which can possibly attract us from those duties. ."i. Tiic miseries inseparable from life, are the ullunalu nsison of th(! obscurity of our knowledge; both in religion and in nature. To ask why God has involved religion in so much darknes.s, is asking why he has not given us a nature like those spirits which are not clothed with mortal Hesli. VVe must class the obscurity of our knowledge with the other infirmities of life, with our exile, our imprisonment, our sickness, our j)erfid3', our infidelit}', with the loss of our relatives, of separation from our dearest friends. We nmst answer the objec- tion drawn from tlic darkness which envelopes most of the objects of sense, as we do to those drawn from the com|)lication of our calamities. It is, that this world is not the abode of our felicity. It is, that the awful wounds of sin are not yet wholly healed. It is, that our soul is still clothed with matter. W^e must lament the miseries of a life in which reason is en- slaved, in which the spiiere of our knowledge is so confined, and in which we feel ourselves obstructed at every step of our meditation and research. VVe have a soul greedj' of wisdom and knowledge; a soul susceptible of an infinity of perceptions and ideas; a soul to which know- ledge and intelligence are the nourishment and food: and this soul is localized in a world: but in what world.' In a world, where we do but imperfectly know ourselves; in a world, where our sublimest knowledge, and profoundest re- searches resemlile little children who divert themselves at play. The idea is not mine; it is suggested by Hi- Paul, in tiie words subse- quent to our te.\t. " When I was a child, I spake as a child, I understood as a child, I thought as a child." The contrast is not un- just. Literally, all this knowledge, all these sermons, all this divinity, and all those com- mentaries, are but as the simple comparisons employed to make children understand e.xalted truths. They arc but as the types, which God employed in the ancient law to instruct the Jews, while in a slate of infancy. How im- perfect were those types! What relation had a shee|) to the Victim of the new covenant.' What pro[iortion had a priest to the Sovereign Ponlifl" of the church! Sucli is tiie state of man while here i)laced on the earth. But a happier period must follow this of hu- miliation. " When I was a child, I spake as a child, I understood as a child, I thought as a child; but when I became a man, I put away childish tilings." Charming thought, my bre- thren, of the change that death shall j)roduce in us; it shall supersede the puerilities of in- fiincy; it shall draw the curtain which conceals the objects of expectation. How ravished must the soul be when tiiis curtain is uplilled! In- stead of worsiiipping iu these a.'ssemblies, it finds itself instantly elevated to the choirs of angels, " the ten thousand times ten thousand before the Lord." Instead of hearing the hymns we sing to his glor)', it instantly hears the hallelujahs of celestial spirits, and the dread shouts of " Holy, holy, holy, is tiio Lord of hosts: the whole earth is fiill of thy glory." Instead of listening to this frail preacher, who endeavours to develoj» the imperfect notions he litis imbibed in a confined understanding, it instantly hears the great head of the church, " who is the author, and finisher of our faith." Instead of perceiving some traces of God's per- fections in the beauties of nature, it finds itself in the midst of his sublimest works; in the midst of" the heavenly .Jerusalem, whose gales are of pearl, whoso foundations are of precious stones, and whose walls are of jasper." — Do we then still fear deatii! And have we still need ol' comforters when we approach that iu Seh. XCIV.] CONSECRATION OF THE, &c. 363 happy period? And Iiave wc still need to re- sumo all our constancy, and all our fortitude to support the idea of dying! And is it still necessary to pluck us from the cartii, and to tear us by force to the celestial abode, which shall consummate our felicity? Ah! how the prophet Elisha, who saw his master ascend in tho chariot of fire, ploughing the air on his I)ril- liant throne, and crossing the vast expanse which separates heaven from earth; how Elisha regretted the absence of so worthy a master, whom he now saw no more, and wliotn he must never see in life; how he cried in that moment, " My father, my father, the chariot (if Israel, and the horsemen thereof" These emotions are strikingly congenial to tlio senti- riients of self-love, so dear to us. ]5ut Elijah himself — Elijah, did he fear to soar in so sub- lime a course! f^lijah already ascended to the middle regions of tlic air, in whoso eyes the oartli appeared but as an atom retiring out of sight; Elijaii, whose head already reached to licaven; did Elijah regret the transition he was about to complete! Did he regret the world, and its inhabitants! — O soul of man; — regene- rate soul — daily called to break the fetters which unite thee to a mortal body, take thy flight towards heaven. Ascend this fiery chariot, which God has sent to transport thee above the earth where thou dwcllest. See the heavens which open for thy reception; ad- mire the beauties, and estimate the charms al- ready realized by thy hope. Taste those in- ert'ablc dcliglits. Anticipate the perfect felicity, with which death is about to invest thee. Thou needeet no more than this last moment of my ministry. Deatli himself is about to do all tho rest, to dissipate all thy darkness, to justify re- ligion, and to crown tliy hopes. SERMON XCIV. CONSECRATION OF THE CHURCH AT VOORBURGH, 1726. EzEK. ix. 16. JiWiough I have cast than far off among the hea- then, and among the countries, yet will 1 he to them as a little sanctaaiij in the countries where they shall come. The cause of our assembling to-day, my brethren, is one of the most evident marks of God's powerful protection, extended to a mul- titude of exiles whom these provinces have en- circled with a protecting arm. It is a fact, tliat since we abandoned our native land, we have been loaded with divine favours. Some of us have lived in affluence; others in the en- joyments of mediocrity, often preferable to af- lluence; and all have seen this confidence crowned, which has enabled them to say, while living even without resource, " In the moun- tain of the Lord, it shall be seen; in the moun- tain of the Lord, he will there provide." liut how consoling soever the idea may be in our dispersion of that gracious Providence, which has never ceased to watch for our wel- fare, it is not the principal subject of our grati- tude. God has corresponded more directly with tho object with which we were animated when we were enabled to bid adieu, perhaps an eternal adieu, to our country: what prompt- ed us to e.xile was not the hope of finding more engaging company, a happier climate and more permanent establishments. Motives altogether of another kind animated our hearts. \Ve had seen the edifices reduced to the dust, which we had been accustomed to make resound with the praises of (Jod: we had heard " the children of Edom," with hatchets in their hand, shout against those sacred mansions, " down with them; down with them, even to tho ground." May you, ye natives of these provinces, among whom it has pleased the Lord to lead us, ever be ignorant of the like calamities. May you indeed never know them, but by the experience of those to whom you have so amply aiforded the means of subsistence. We could not sur- vive the liberty of our conscience, we have wandered to seek it, thougli it should be in dens and deserts. Zeal gave animation to the aged, whose limbs were benumbed with years. Fathers and mothers took their children ir'i their arms, who were too young to know tlie danger from which they were plucked: each was con- tent " with his soul for a prey," and required nothing but the precious liberty he had lost. We have found it among you, our generous benefactors; you have received us as your bre- thren, as your children; and have admitted us into your churches. We have communicated with you iit the same table; and now you have permitted us, a handful of exiles, to build a church to that God whom we mutually adore. You wish also to partake with tis in our grati- tude, and to join your homages with those we have just rendered to him in this new edifice. But alas! those of our fellow-countrymen, whose minds are still impressed with the recol- lection of those former churches, whose de- struction occasioned tiiem much grief, cannot taste a joy wholly pure. The ceremonies of this day will associate themselves, with those celebrated on laying the foundation-stone of the second temple. The priests oificiated, in- deed, in their pontifical robes; the Lévites, sons of Asaph, caused their cymbals to resound afar; one clioir admirably concerted its re- sponse to another; all tlie ])eople rai.sed a shout of joy, because tlie foundation of the Lord's house was laid. But the chiefs of the fathers, and the aged men, who had seen the superior glory of the former temple, wept aloud, and in such sort that one could not distinguish tho voice of joy from the voice of weeping. Come, notwithstanding, my dear brethren, and let us mutually praise the God, who, " in tlie midst of wrath remembers mercy," Hab. iii. 2. Let us gratefully meditate on this fresh accomplishment of the jjrophecy I have just read in your presence; " Though I have cast them far off among the heathen, and amonw the countries, yet will I be to tlicm as a little sanctuary in the countries where they shall come." These are God's words to Ezekiel: to understand them, and with that view I attempt the discussion, we must trace the events to their source, and go back to the twenty-ninth year of king Josiah, to form correct ideas of the end of our prophet's ministry. It was in this year, that Nabopolassar, kina of Babylon, and Astyages, king of Media, being allied by 364 CONSECRATION OF THE [Ser. XCIV. the marriage of Nebiicliadnezzar, son of Nabo- polassar, with Aiiiytis, daughter of Astyages, united their forces against the Assyrians, then the most ancient and fonnidable i>o\vor, took IS'inevci), tiicir capital, and thus, by a peculiar dispensation of Providence, they accomplish- ed, and witiiout tiiinUing so to do, the pro- phecies of Jonah, iN'ahum, and Zephaniah, against that celebrated empire. From that period the empire of Nineveh and of Babylon formed [again] but one, the terror of all tiieir neighbours, who had just grounds of appreliension soon to experience a lot like that of Nineveh. This induced Pharaoh Nechoh, king of Egypt, who, of all the potentates of the east, was the best qualified to resist those conque- rors, to march at the head of a great army, and make war with a prince, who for the fu- ture, to use the expression of a prophet, was regarded as " ilie luunmer of all the earth," Jer. 1. 32. Pharaoh took his route througii Judea, and sent ambassadors to king Josiah, to solicit a pas.sage through his kingdom. Jo- siah's reply to this embassy, even to this day, astonishes every interpreter; he took the field, he opposed the designs of Nechoh, which seemed to have no object but to emancipate the nations Nebuchadnezzar had subjugated, and to confirm those tiiat desponded tlirough fear of being loaded with the same chain. Jo- siah, unable to frustrate the objects of Nechoh, was slain in the battle, and with him seemed to expire whatever remained of piety and prosperity in the kingdom of Judah. Pliaraoh Nechoh defeated the Babylonians near the Euphrates, took Carchemish,the capi- tal of Mesopotamia, and, augmenting the plea- sure of victory by that of revenge, he led his victorious army through Judea, deposed Je- hoaliaz, son of Josiah, and placed Kliakim, his brother, on the throne, whom he surnamed Je- hoiakini, 2 Kings xxiii. From that period Jehoiakim regarded the king of Egypt as his benefactor, to whom he was indebted for his throne and his crown. He believed that Pharaoh Necholi, whose sole au- thority had conferred the crown, was the only prince that could preserve it. The Jews at once followed the example of their king; they espoused the hatred whicii subsisted in Egypt against the king of Babylon, and renewed with Nechoh an alliance the most firm which had ever subsisted between the two powers. Were it rc{[uisitc to support here what the sacred history says on this subject, I would il- lustrate at large a passage of Herodotus, who, when speaking of the triumph of Pharaoh Nechoh, alHrms, tliat after this prince had ob- tained a glorious victory in tiie fields of Me- giddo, he took a great city of Palestine, sur- rounded with hills, whicli is called Cadijtis: there is not the smallest doubt but this city was Jerusalem, which in the Scriptures is of- ten called holy by way of excellence; and it Resuming the thread of the history; this al- liance which the Jews had contracted with Egypt, augmented their confidence at a time when every consideration should have abated it; it elevated them with the presumptuous no- tion of being adequate to frustrate tlie designs of Nebuchadnezzar, or rather those of God himself, who had declared tiiat he would sub- jugate all the east to this potentate. He pre- sently retook from Pharaoh Nechoh, Carche- mish, and the other cities conquered by that prince. He did more; he transferred the war into f^gypt, after having associated Nebuchad- nezzar, his son, in the empire; and after vari- ous advantages in that kingdom, he entered on the expedition against Judea, recorded in the 31th cliapter of the Second Book of Chroni- cles; ho accomplished what Isaiah had fore- told to Hczekiah, that the Chaldeans " should take his sons, and make them eunuchs in Baby- lon," Isa. xxxix. 1. He plundered Jerusalem; he put Jehoiakim in chains, and placed his brotiier Jehoiachin on the throne, who is some- times called Jeconiah, and sometimes Coniah; and who availed himself of the grace he had received, to rebel against his benefactor. This prince quickly revenged the perfidy; he be- sieged Jerusalem, which he had always kept blockaded since the death of Jehoiakim, and he led away a very great number of captives into Babylon, among whom was the prophet Ezekiel. Ezekiel was raised up of God to prophesy to tlie captive Jews, who constantly indulged the reverie of returning to Jerusalem, while Jeremiah prophesied to those who were yet in their country, on whom awaited the same des- tiny. They laboured unanimously to persuade their countr^'men to place no confidence in their connexion with F^gypt; to make no more unavailing efforts to throw off the yoke of Ne- buchadnezzar; and to obey the commands of that prince, or rather the commands of God, who was wishful, by his ministry, to punish the crimes of all the east. Our prophet was transported into Jerusalem; he tliere saw those Jews, wlio, at the very time while they continued to flatter them with avert- ing the total ruinof Judea, hastened the event, not only by continuing, but by redoubling their cruelties, and their idolatrous worship. At the very crisis while he beheld the infiimous con- duct of his countrymen in Jerusalem, lie heard God himself announce the punishments with which they were about to be overwhelmed; and saying to his ministers of vengeance, " Go through the city; strike, let not your eye spare, neither have ye pity: Slay utterly old and young, both maids and little children; and women. — Defile my house, and fill the courts with the slain," ix. 5 — 7. But while God de- livered a commission so terrible with regard to the abominable Jews, ho cast a consoling re- gard on others; he said to a mysterious person, " Go tlirough the midst of the city, and set a was anciently designated by this glorious title, mark on the foreheads of the men that sigh, Now, the word liolii, in Hebrew, is Kcdascha, and that cry for the abominations committed and in Syriac Kidutlia. To this name Hero- in the midst thereof" I am grieved for the dotus aflixed a Greek termination, and called honour of our critics, who have followed the Kadylis the city that the Syrians or the Arabs Vulgate version in a reading whicli disfigures call Kcdutha, whicii, correspondent to my as- the text; " set the letter thau on the foreheads sertion, was the apjwllation given to Jerusalem. I of those that sigh." To how many puerilities Ser. XCIV.] CHURCH AT VOORBURGH. 365 has this reading given birth? What mysteries have they not sought in tiie letter tlictu.' J5ut the Vulgate is the only version wJiich has thus read the passage. The word lltau, in Hebrew, implies a sign; to write this letter on tiie fore- head of any one, is to make a mark; and to imprint a mark on the foreliead of a man, is, in the style of prophecy, to distinguish him by some special favour. So tiie Seventy, the Arabic, and Syriac, have rendered this exj)res- sion. You will find the same figures employed by St. John, in the Revelation. The words of my te.\t have the same import as the above passage; they may be restricted to the Jews already in ca])tivity; I e,\tcnd them, however, to the Jews who groaned for the enormities committed by their countrymen in Jerusalem. The past, the present, and the fu- ture, time, arc sometimes nndistinguisiied in the holy tongue; especially by tlie prophets, to whom the certainty of the future predicted events, occasioned them to be contemplated, as present, or as already past. Consonant to this style, " I have cast them far off among tlie heathen," may imply, I will cast them far off; I will disperse them among the nations, &c. To both those bodies of Jews, of whom I have spoken, 1 would say, those already cap- tivated in Babylon when Ezckiel received this vision, and those who were led away after tlie total ruin of Jerusalem, that however afflictive their situation might appear, God would me- liorate it by constant marks of tlie protection he would afford. " Though I may or have cast them far off among the heathen; and among the countries; though I may disperse them among strange nations; yet 1 will be to them as a little sanctuary in the countries where they are come." This is the general scope of the words we have read. Wishful to apply them to the de- sign of this day, we shall proceed to draw a parallel between tiie state of the Jews in Baby- lon, and that in which it has pleased God to place the churches whose ruin we have now deplored for forty years. The dispersion of the Jews had three distinguished characters. I. A character of horror; H. A character of justice; HI. A character of mercy. A character of horror; this people were dis- persed among the nations; they were compel- led to abandon Jerusalem, and to wander in di- vers countries. A character of justice; God himself, the God who makes "judgment and justice the habitation of his throne," Ps. lx.\xi.>L. 15, was the author of those calamities; " I have cast them far off among the heathen; and dis- persed them among the countries." In fine, a character of mercy: " though I have cast them far off among the heathen, I have been," as we may read, " I will be to them as a little sanctuary in the countries where they are come." These are the three similarities be- tween the dispersed Jews, and the reformed, to whom these provinces have extended a com- passionate arm. I. The dispersion of the Jews, connected with all the calamities which preceded and fol- lowed, had a character of horror: let us judge of it by the lamentations of Jeremiah, who at- tested, as well as predicted the awful scenes. 1. He deplores the carnage which stained Judea witli blood: "The priests and the pro- phets have been slain in the sanctuary of the Lord. The young and the old lie on the ground in tlie streets; my virgins and the young men are fallen by tiie sword: thou hast slain; thou hast killed, and hast not pitied them in the day of thine anger. Thou hast convened my terrors, as to a solemn day," chap, ii. 20 — 22. '2. He deplores the horrors of the famine which induced the living to envy the lot of tliose that had fillen in war: " The children and the sucklings swoon in the streets; they say to their mothers, when expiring in their bosom, where is the corn and the wine? They that be slain with the sword are happier than they that be slain with hunger. Have not the women eaten the children that they suckled? Naturally pitiful, have they not baked their children to supply them with food?" chap. ii. 11, 12. 20; iv. 9, 10. 3. He deplores the insults of their enemies: " All tliat pass by clap their hands at thee; they hiss and shake their heads at the daughter of Jerusalem, saying. Is this the city called the perfection of beauty, the joy of the whole earth?" chap. ii. 15. 4. He deplores the insensibility of God him- self, who formerly was moved with their cala- mities, and ever accessible to their prayers: " Thou hast covered thyself with a cloud that our prayers should not pass through: and when I cry and shout, he rejecteth my supplication," chap. iii. 44. 8. 5. He deplores the favours God had confer- red, the recollection of which served but to render their grief the more poignant, and their fall the more insupportable: " Jerusalem in the days of her affliction remembered all her pleasant things that she had in the days of old. How doth the city sit in solitude that was full of people? How is she that was great among the nations become a widow, and she that was princess among the provinces become tribu- tary?" chap. i. 7. 1. 6. Above all, he deplores the strokes level- led against religion: " The ways of Zion do mourn because none come to the solemn feasts: jU her gates are desolate: her priests sigh; her virgins are afflicted. The heathen have enter- ed into her sanctuary; the heathen concerning whom thou didst say, that they should not enter into thy sanctuary," chap. i. 4. 10. These are the tints with which Jeremiah paints the calamities of the Jews, and making those awful objects an inexhaustible source of tears; he exclaims in the eloquence of grief; " Is it nothing to you, all ye that pass by? Be- hold, and see, if there be any sorrow like unto my sorrow which is done unto me, wherewith the Lord hath afflicted me in the day of his fierce anger. For this cause I weep, mine eye, mine eye runneth down with tears, because the Comforter that should relieve my soul is far from mo. Zion spreadeth her hands, and there is none to comfort her. Mine eyes fail with tears: whom shall I take to witness for thee; to whom shall I liken thee, O daughter of Jerusalem; to whom shall I equal thee to console thee, O daughter of Zion, for thy breach is great' — O wall of the daughter of 366 CONSECRATION OF THE [Ser. XCIV. Zion, let tears run down like a river day and night: g-ivo thyself no rest, let not the applo of thine eye cease. Arise, cry out in the night: in the beginning of the watches pour out thine heart like water before the Lord," chap. i. 12. 16, 17; ii. 11. 13. 18, 19. But is all this a mere portrait of past ages, or did the Spirit of God designate it as a %ure of ages that were to come! Are those the calamities of the .Jews that Jeremiaii has endeavoured to describe, or are they those which for so many years have ravaged our churches! Our eyes, accustomed to contem- plate so many awful objects, have become in- capable of impression. Our hearts, habituated to anguish, are become insensible. Do not expect me to open the wounds that time has already closed; but in recalling the recollection of those terrific scenes which have stained our churches with blood, I would inquire whether the desolations of Jerusalem properly so called, or tiiose of the mystic Jerusalem be most en- titled to our teara' May the sight of the cala- mities into which we have been plunged excite in the bosom of a compassionate God, emo- tions of mercy! May he in crowning the mar- tyrs, extend mercy to those that occasioned their death. I am impelled to the objects which the solemnities of this day recall to your minds, though I should even endeavour to dissipate the ideas; I would say, to the destruction of our churches, and to tlie strokes which have been levelled against our religion. The colours Jeremiah employed to trace the calamities of Jews, cannot be too vivid to paint those which have fallen on us. One scourge has followed another fur a long scries of years, " One deep has called unto another deep at the noise of his water-spouts," Ps. xlii. 7. A thousand and a thousand strokes were aimed at our unhappy churches prior to that which rased them to the ground! and if we may so speak, one would have said, that those armed against us were not content with being spectators of our ruin; they were emulous to effectuate it. Sometimes they published edicts against those who foreseeing the impending calamities of the church, and unable to avert them, sought the sad consolation of not attesting the scenes.* Sometimes against those who ha'ving had the baseness to deny their religion, and unable to bear the remorse of their conscience, had re- covered from their fall.f Sometimes they pro- hibited pastors from exercising tiieir discipline on those of their Hock who had abjured the truth. J Sometimes they permitted cliildren at the age of seven years to embrace a doctrine, in the discussion of which they affirm, tiiat even adults were inadeijuato to the task.§ At one time they suppressed a college, at another they interdicted a churcli.|| Sometimes they envied us the glory of converting infidels and idolaters; and retjuired that those unhappy people should not renounce one kind of idola- try but to embrace another, far less excusable, as it dared to show its front amid the light of the gospel. Thoy envied us the glory also of * The edict of August, 1689. f Declaration agaiust the rolapsetl, May 1679. tJuueietiO. ^ June 1681. || January 1683. confirming those m the truth who we had in- structed from our infancy. • Sometimes they prohibited the pastors from exercising the mi- nisterial functions for more than three years in the same place.* Sometimes thej' forbade us to print our books;f and sometimes seized those already published. | Sometimes they obstruct- ed our preaching in a church: sometimes from doing it on the foundations of one that had been demolished; and sometimes from wor- shipping God in public. At one time they e.xilcd us from the kingdom; and at another, forbade our leaving it on pain of death. § Here you might have seen tropiiies prepared for those who had basely denied their religioti, there you might have seen dragged to the pri- sons, to the scaffold, or to the galleys, those who had confessed it with an heroic faith: yea, the bodies of the dead dragged on hurdles for having expired confessing the truth. In an- other place you might have seen a dying man at compromise with a minister of hell, on per- sisting in his apostacy, and the fear of leaving his children destitute of bread; and if he made not the best use of those last moments that the treasures of Providence, and the long-suffering of God, yet afforded him to recover from his fall. In other places, fathers and mothers tearing themselves away from children, con- cerning whom the fear of being separated from them in eternity made them shed tears more bitter than tliose that flowed on being separat- ed in this life. Elsewhere you might have seen whole families arriving in Protestant coun- tries with hearts transported with joy, once more to see churches, and to find in Christian communion, adequate sources to assuage the anguish of the sacrifices they had made for its enjoyment. Let us draw the curtain over those affecting scenes. Our calamities, like those of the Jews, have had a character of horror; this is a fact; this is but too easy to ])rove. They have had also a character of justice, which we proceed to prove in our se- cond head. II. That public miseries originate in the crimes of a chastened people, is a ])roposition that scarcely any one will presume to deny when proposed in a vague and general way; but perhaps it is one of tliose whose evidence is less perceived when applied to certain pri- vate cases, and when wc would draw the con- sequences resulting from it in_ a neces.sary and immediate manner: propose it in a pulpit, and each will acquiesce. But propose it in the cabi- net; say, that the equipment of fleets, the levy of armies, and contraction of alliances, are feeble barriers of the state, unless we endea- vour to eradicate the crimes which have en- kindled the wrath of Heaven, and you would bo put in the abject class of those good and weak fort of folles that are in the world. I do not come to renew the controversy, and to in- vestigate what is the influence of crimes on the destiny of nations, and the rank it holds in the plans of Providence. Neither do 1 ap- pear at the bar of pliilosophj' the most scrupu- lous and severe, and at the bench of policy the most refined and profound, to prove that it is * August 1684. t Sept. 6tli, 1685. t July 9lh, 1685. ^ July 30di, 1680. J Ser. XCIV.J CHURCH AT VOORBURGH. 367 not possible for a state long to subsist in splen- dour which presumes to derive its prosperity from the practice of crimes. For, Wlio is ho tiiat will dare to exclaim against a proposition so reasonable, and so closely con- nected with the grand doctrines of religion; and whicli cannot bo renounced without a stroke at the being of a God, and the superin- tendence of a Providence? a man admitting those two grand i)riiiciples, and presuming to make crimes subservient to the support of so- ciety, should digest the following propositions. There is indeed a God in heaven, who has constituted society to practise equity; to main- tain order; and to cherisii religion; he has con- nected its ])rosi)erily with these duties; but by tlie secrets of my policy, by the depths of my counsels, by the refinement of my wisdom, I know how to elude his designs, and avert his denunciations. God is indeed an Almighty Being whoso pleasure has a necessary connex- ion with its execution; he has but to blow with his wind on a nation, and behold it vanishes away; but I will oppose power to power; 1 will force his strength;* and by my fleets, my armies, my fortress, 1 will elude all those ministers of vengeance. God has indeed declared, that he is jealous of his glory; that soon or late he will exterminate incorrigible nations; and that if from the nature of their vices there proceed not a sufficiency of calamities to extirpate them from tiie earth, he will superadd those unrelenting strokes of vengeance which shall justify his Providence; but the state, over which I preside, shall be too small, or perhaps too great to bo absorbed in the vortex of his commanding sway. It shall be reserved of Providence as an exception to this general rule, and made to subsist in favour of those very vices, whicli have occasioned the sackage of other nations. My brethren, there is, if I may presume so to sjieak, but a front of iron and brass that can digest propositions so daring, and prefer the system of Ilobbs and of Ma- chiavel to that of David and of Solomon. But what awful objects should we present to your view, were we v/ishful to enter on a de- tail of the proofs concerning the equity of the strokes with which God alllicted the Jews; and especially were we wishful to illustrate the conforn)ity found in this second head, between the desolations of those ancient people, and those of our own churches? To justify what we have advanced on the first head, it would be requisite to investigate many of their kings, who were monsters rather than men; it would be requisite to describe the hardness of the people who were wishful that the ministers of the living God, sent to rebuke their crimes, might contribute to confirm them therein; and who, according to the expression of Isaiah, "said to the seer, see not; and to those who had visions, see no more visions of uprightness; speak unto us smooth things, prophecy deceit. Get you out of the way, turn aside out of the path, cause the Holy One of Israel to cease from before us," xxx. 10, 11. It would be requisite to exhibit the connivance of many of their pastors, who, as Jeremiah * The Tersions vary very much ia reading; Isaiali xivii. 5. Vide PoU Synojisis Grit, in he. says, " healed the hurt of his people slightly, saying, peace, peace, when there was no peace;" vi. 14; and who were so far from suppressing the licentiousness of the wicked, as to make it their glory to surpass them! It would be re- quisite to describe the awful security which in the midst of the most tremendous visitations infatuated them to say, " We have made a co- venant with death, and with hell we are at agreement," Isa. xxviii. 15. It would bo re- quisite to trace those sanguinary deeds, which occasioned that just rebuke, " In the skirts of thy robe is found the blood of the innocent poor," Jer. ii. 34. It would be requisite to ex- hibit those scenes of idolatry, which made a prophet say, " Lift up thine eyes on the high places, and see where thou hast been lien with. O Juda, thy gods are as many as thy cities," ii. 28; iii. 2. It would be requisite to speak of that paucity of righteous men, which occasion- ed God himself to say, " Run ye to and fro tlîrough the streets of Jerusalem, and see now and know, and seek ye in the broad places thereof, if ye can find a man, if there be any that executeth judgment, that seeketh truth, and I will pardon it," v. i. But instead of retracing those awful recol- lections, and deducing from them the just application of which they are susceptible, it would be hotter to comprise them in that general confession, and to acknowledge when speaking of your calamities what the Jews confessed when speaking of theire: " The Lord is righteous, for I have rebelled against him. Certainly thou art righteous in all the things that have happened, for thou hast acted in truth, but we have done wickedly. Neither have our kings, our princes, our priests, nor our fathers, kept thy law, nor hearkened unto thy commandments, and to thy testimonies wherewith thou didst testify against them," Lam. i. 18; Neh. ix. 34. III. But it is time to present you with ob- jects more attractive and assortable with the solemnities of this day. The calamities which fell upon the Jews, and those which have fallen on us; those calamities which had a character of justice; yea, even a character of horror, had also a character of mercy; and this is what is promised the Jews in the words of my text: " Altiiough I have cast them far off among the heathen, and among the countries; yet I will be to them as a little sanctuary in the countries where they are come." Whether you give these words, " as a little sanctuary," a vague, or a limited signification, all resolves to the same sense. If you give them a limited im- port, they refer to the temple of Jerusalem, which the Chaldeans had destroyed, and which was tlie emblem of God's presence in the midst of his people. " I have dispersed them among the heathen;" I have deprived them of their temple, but I will grant them supematu- rally the favours I accorded to their prayers once offered up in the house, of which they have been deprived. In this sense St. Jolm said, that he " saw no temple in the new Je- rusalem, because God and Uie Lamb were the temple thereof," Rev. xxi. 22. If you give these words an extended import, they allude to the dispersion. " Altiiough I have cast tliem off among the heathen, and put tliem far m 868 CONSECRATION OF THE [Ser. XCIV. away" from tho place of their habitation; yet I will be myself their refuge. Much the same is said by the author of the xcth psalm; Lord, " thou hast been our retreat, or refuge, from one generation to another." But without a minute scrutiny of the words, let us justify the thing. 1. Even amid the carnage wliich ensued on the taking of Jerusalem, many of the princi- pal people were spared. It appears from the sacred history, tliat Jeremiah was allowed to choose what retreat he pleased, eitiicr to re- main in Babylon,* or to return to his country. He cliose the latter; he loved the foundations of Jerusalem, and of liis temple, more than the superb city; and it was at the siglit of those mournful ruins, that he composed those Lamentations, from wliich we have made many extracts, and in which he has painted in the deepest tints, and described in the most pathetic manner, the miseries of his nation. 2. While some of the Jewisii captives had liberty to return to their country, others were promoted in Babylon to the most eminent of- fices in tlie empire. The author of tlie second Book of Kings says, that Evil-merodach " lifted up the head of Jehoiacliin out of prison — and set his throne above the throne of the kings that were with him in Babylon." Jeremiah repeats tlie same expression of this author, a Kings XXV. 28; Jer. lii. 32; and learned men have thence concluded, " that Jehoiachin reigned in Babylon over his own dispersed subjects." Of Daniel we may say the same; he was made governor of the province of Baby- lon by Nebuchadnezzar, "and chief of tiie governors over all the wise men," Dan. ii. 48. Darius conferred many years afterward tlie same dignities on this prophet; and Neliemiah was cupbearer to Artaxerxes. 3. How dark, how impenetrable soever the history of the seventy years may be, during which time the Jews were captive in Babylon, it is extremely obvious, that they had during that period some form of government. We have explained ourselves elsewhere concern- ing what is meant by the .JLchinalotarks; tliat is, the chiefs or princes of the captivity. We ought also to pay some attention to tlie book of Susanna: I know that this work bears va- rious marks of reprobation, and that St. Je- rome, in particular, regarded it witii so mucii contempt as to assure us, in some sort, that it would never have been put in the sacred ca- non had it not been to gratify a brutish people. Meanwhile, we ought not to slight wliat tliis book records concerning the general history of tho Jews; now we tlieie see, that during the captivity, tliey had ciders, judges, and sena- tors; and if we may credit Origen, too nuicli prejudiced in favour of the book of Susanna, it was solely to hide tiie siianie of tlie princes of their nation that the Jews had suppressed it. 4. God always preserved among them the ministry, and tho ministers. It is indubitable that there were always projihets during the captivity; though some of the learned have maintained, that the sacred books were lost during the captivity; though one text of * It appears, below, tliat Saurin thouglif Jeremiah and others returued from Uabylon! Scripture seems to favour this notion; and though Tertullian and Eusebius presume to say tiiat Esdras had retained the sacred books in memory, and wrote them in the order in which they now stand; notwithstanding all this, we tiiink ourselves able to prove that the sacred trust never was out of their hands. It appears tliat Daniel read the propliets. The end of the second book of Chronicles, which has induced some to conclude tiiat Cyrus was a proselyte, loaves not a doubt that this prince must have read the xlivth and xlvth chapters of Isaiah, where he is expressly named, and to this knowledge alone we can attribute the extraordinary expressiojis of his first edict. " The Lord God of heaven hath given me all the kingdoms of the earth; and he has charged me to build him a temple in Jerusalem," 2 Chron. x.^xvi. 23. 5. God wrought prodigies for the Jews, which made them venerable in the eyes of their greatest enemies. Though exiles; though captives; thougli slaves of the Chaldeans, they were distinguished as the favourites of tho Sovereign of the universe. They made the God of Abraham to triumph even in the midst of idols; and aided by the pro])hetic Spirit, they pronounced the destiny of those very kingdoms in the midst of which they were dis- persed. Like the captive Ark, they hallowed tiie humiliations of their captivity by symbols of terror. Witness the flames which con- sumed tlieir executioners. Witness the dreams of Nebucliadnezzar, and of Belshazzar inter- preted by Daniel, and realized by Providence: witness tlie praises rendered to God by idola- trous kings: witness the preservation of Daniel from the fury of the lions; and his enemies thrown to assuage the appetites of those fero- cious beasts. 6. In a word, the mercy of God appeared so distinguislied in the deliverance accorded to tliese same Jews, as to convince the most in- credulous, that the same God who had deter- mined their captivity, was he also who had prescribed its bounds. He moved in their [lehalf the hearts of pagan princes! We see Darius, and Cyrus, and Artaxerxes, become, by the sovereignty of Heaven over the heart of kings, the restorers of Jerusalem, and the builders of its temple! Xenophon reports, tliat wlien Cyrus took Babylon, he command- ed his soldiers to spare all who spake tlie Sy- rian tongue; tiiat is to say, the Hebrew nation; and no one can be ignorant of the edicts is- sued in favour of this people. Now, my brethren, nothing but an excess of blindness and ingratitude can prevent the see- ing and feeling in our own dispersion those marks of mercy, which shone so liriglit in the dispersion of tlie Jews. How else could we have eluded the troops stationed on the fron- tiers of our country, to retain us in it by force, and to make us either martyrs or apostates.' Wliat else could excite the zeal of some Pro- testant countries, whose inhabitants you saw going to meet your fugitives, guiding them in tiie private roads, and disputing with one ano- ther who should entertain them; and saying, " C'ome, come into our houses, yc blessed of the Lord?" Gen. xxiv. 31. Whence proceeds so much success in our Ser. XCIV.] CHURCH AT VOORBURGH. 369 trade; so much promotion in the armj; so mucii progress in the sciences; and so much prosperity in the several professions of many of us, who, according to the world, are more hap- py in tiie land of their exile, than they were in their own country? Why has God been jilcascd to signalize his favours to certain individuals ofthe nations, and have extended to us a protecting arm? Why, when indigence and exiles seemed to enter their houses togetlier, have we seen affluence, bene- diction, and riches emanate, if we may so speak, from the bosom of charity and benehcence? By what miracle have so great a nund)er of our confessors and martyrs been liberated frum their tortures and their chains? P^rom what principle proceeds the extraordi- nary difference, God has put between those of our countrymen, wlio, williout consulting " flesli and blood, have followed Jesus Christ without the camp, bearing his reproach," and those who have wished to join the interests of mammon with those of lieaven? Gal. i. 16; Heb. xiii. 13. We are masters of whatever property with which it pleased Providence to invest us on our departure; but our brethren cannot dispose of theirs but with vexatious restrictions and im- posts. We have over our children the rights which nature, society, and religion have given us; we can promise both to ourselves and to them the protection ofthe laws, while we shall continue to respect the laws, which we teach them to do. But our countrymen, on leaving their houses for a few hours, know not on their re- turn, whether they shall find tiiose dear parts of themselves, or whether they shall be dragged away to confinement in a convent, or thrown into a jail. Whenever the sabbaths and festivals of the church arrive, we go with our families to render homage to the Supreme; we rise up in a throng with a song of triumph in the house of our God; we make it resound with hymns; we hear the Scriptures; we offer up our prayers; we par- ticipate of his sacraments; we anticipate the eternal felicities. But our countrymen have no part in the joy of our feasts; they are to them days of mourning; it is with difficulty in an obscure part of their house, and in the mortal fear of detection, that they celebrate some hasty act of piety and religion. We, when conceiving ourselves to be extend- ed on the bed of deatli, can call our ministers, and open to them our hearts, listen to their gracious words, and drink in the sources of their comfort. But our countrymen are pur- sued to the last moments of their life by their enemies, and having lived temporizing, they die temporizing. We find then as the captive Jews, the ac- complishment ofthe prophecy of my text; and we enjoy, during the years of our dispersion, favours similar to those which soothed the Jews during their captivity. But can we promise ourselves that ours shall come to a similar close? The mercy of God on I our belialf has already accomplished the pro- i mise in the text, " I will be to them as a little sanctuary in the countries where they are ' come." But when shall wc sec the accom- ! Vol. II.— 47 plishmentof that which follows. " I will gather you from among the people, and assemble you irotn the countries where ye have been scatter- ed." When is it that so many Christians, who degenerate as they are, still love religion; when is it that they shall repair tlic insults they have ofiured to it' When is it, that so many chil- dren who have been torn from their fathers, shall be restored; or rather, when sliall we see them restored to tlie church, from whose bosom they have been plucked? AVhen is it that we sJiall see in our country what we see at tliis day. Christians enmlous to build churciies, to consecrate them, tlierc to render God the early homage due to his Majesty, and to participate in tlie first favours ho there accords? " Oh! ye tliat make mention of the Lord, keep not silence; give him no rest till he establish, and till he make Jerusalem a praise in the earth," Isa. Ixii. 5, 6. " Give ear, O Shepherd of Israel, thou that leadest Joseph like a flock, thou that dwellest between the cherubim shine forth. Before Ephraim and Benjamin, and Manasseh, stir up thy strength, and come and save us," Ps. Ixxx. 1, 2. "O Lord God of hosts, how long wilt thou be angry agaiiLst the prayer of thy people?" ver. 4. " Thou shalt arise, and have mercy on Zion: for the time to favour her, yea, the set time is come. For thy serva.its take pleasure in stones, and favour the dust thereof. Then the heathen sliall fear the name of the Lord, and all the kings ofthe earth thy glory. When the Lord shall build up Zion; vvlien he shall regard the prayer of the destitute, this shall be written for the generation to come; and the people which shall be created shall praise the Lord; for he hath looked down from the height of his sanctuary," Ps. cii. 13, &c. May this be the first subject of the prayers we shall this day oSïer to God in this holy place. But asking of him favours so precious, let us ask with sentiments which ensure success. INIay the purity of tlie worship we render to God in the churciies he has preserved, and in those he has also allowed to build, obtain re- edification of those that have been demolished. May our charity to brethren, tlie companions of our exile, obtain a re-union wit!» tlie brethren, from whom we have been separated by the ca- lamities ofthe times. And while God shall still retard this happy period, may our respect for our rulers, may our zeal for the public good, may our punctuality in paying the taxes, may our gratitude for the many favours we have received in these provinces, which equalize us with its natural subjects; and compressing in my exhortations and prayers, not only my countrymen, but all who compose this assembly, may the manner in wliich we shall serve God amid the infirmities and miseries inseparable from this valley of tears, ensure to us, my bre- thren, that after having joined our voices to those choirs wliich compose the militant church, we shall be joined to those that form the church triumphant, and sing eternally with the angels, and with tlie multitude of the redeemed of all nations, and languages, the praises of the Creator. God grant us the grace. To whom be honour and glory henceforth and for ever. Amen. 370 ON FESTIVALS, AND PARTICULARLY [See. XCV. SERMON XCV. ON FESTIVALS, AND PARTICULARLY ON THE SABBATH-DAY. Isaiah Iviii. 13, 11. If thou turn uwaij thy fool from the Sahbath, from doing thy pleasure on my holy diiy, and call the Sabbath a df light; the holy of the Lord, hmiourablt; and shall honour him, not doing thy own n-uys, nor finding thy own pleasure, nor spiaking thine own words; then thou shall delight thyself in the Lord, and I will cause thee to ride upon the high places of the earth, and feed thee icith the heritage of Jacob thy fa- ther; for the month of Ihe Lord hath spoken it. " When will the new moon bo ifone, that we may sell corn? and the sabbath, that wo may set forth wheat?" This was tlio language; that the propliet Aiiios put into the mouth of the profane men in iiis own time. It is less ex- pressive of tlieir presumptive speeches, tlian of the latent wickedness which festered in their hearts. Religion and politics were closely con- nected in tlie Hebrew nation. The laws in- flicted the severest penalties on those that vio- lated the exterior of religion. The execrable men, of whom the propliet speaks, could not absent themselves from the solenm festivals with impunity; but they worshipped witli con- straint; they regretted the loss of their time; they reproached God with every moment wasted hi his house; they ardently wished the feasts to be gone, that they might return, not only to their avocations, but also to their crimes; they said in their hearts, " When will the new moon be gone, that we may sell corn? and the sabbath, that we may set forth wheat'" Amos viii. 5. Against this disposition of mind, God has denounced by the ministry of this same pro- phet, those very awful judgments, which he has painted in the deepest shades. The Lord hath sworn: — " I will turn your feasts into mourning, and all your songs into lamentation. Behold the day cometh, saith the Lord God, that I will send a famine in the land; not a famine of bread, not a thirst of water, but of hearing the words of the Lord. And they shall wander from sea to sea, and from the north even to the east; they shall run to and fro to hear the word of the Lord, and shall not find it." My brethren, are you not persuaded, that tlie impious men, of whom the prophet si)eaks, have had imitators in succeeding times? whence is it then that some among us have been struck precisely with the same strokes, if they have not been partakers of the same crimes? whence comes this famine of God's word, my dear countrymen, with which we have been alllicted? Whence comes the necessity imposed upon us to wander from s(,'a to sea, to recover tiiis di- vine pasture, if we have not slighted it in ])lace« where it existed in so much abundance and unction? Wiience comes those awful catas- trophes that liave changed our solemn feasts into mourning, if wo celebrated them, when it was in our power, with joy? Whence comes those lamentations licard in one part of the church for forty years, and which awful melody has latterly been renewed, if we sung our sa- cred hymns with a devotion that the praises of the Creator retjuire of the creature? " O Lord, righteousness bulongeth unto thee, but unto us confusion of faces. The Lord is rigiiteous, though we have rebelled against him," Dan. ix. 7. 9. Happy those who groan under the strokes for the sins they have committed, pro- vided the school of adversity make them wise. Happy those of you, my brethren, who are simply the si)ectators of those calamities, pro- vided you abstain from the sins which have occasioned them, and become wise at the ex- pense of others. This is the design of my discourse, in which I am to address you on the respect due to the solemn feasts, and to the sabbath-day in par- ticular, leaving conscience to decide whether it be caprice, or necessity, which prompts us to choice; wiiether it be inconsideration, or mere accident; or whether it has been compul- sion, tlirough the dreadful enormities into which we are plunged, in regard of the profa- nation of religious lestivals, and of the sabbath- day in particular, that people have for so long a time justly branded us with rei)roach: i)ro- faneness alone, unless we make ellorts to reform it, is sufficient to bring down the wrath of God on these provinces. May Heaven deign to avert those awful presages! May the Al- mighty engrave on our hearts the divine pre- cept inculcated to-day, tiiat we may happily iniierit the favours he has promised! May he enable us sci " to make the subiiaths our de- light," that we may be made partakers of " the heritage of Jacob;" i would say, that of "the Hnisher of our faith. Amen." " If thou turn away iliy foot from the sab- bath, from doing thy i)leasure on my holy day, and call the sal)bath a delight, the holy of the Lord, honourable, and shalt honour him, not doing thy ways, nor finding thine own ])lea- sure, nor speaking thine words; then thou shah delight thyself in the Lord, and 1 will cause thee to ride on the high ])lace3 of the eartli, and feed thee with the heritage of Jacob thy father, for the mouth of tlio Lord hath spoken it." This is our text, and here is our design. We shall consider the words, I. With regard to the Jewish church; II. With regard to the Christian church; or to be more explicit, God has made two very diflcrent worlds, the world of nature, and the world of grace. Both tliese are the heritage of the faithful, but in a very dilVereiit way. The Jews conten)plating the world of grace as a dis- tant object, had their imagination principally in)pressed with the kingdom of nature. Hence, in their form of thanksgiving, they said, "Bles-'s- ed be (Jod wiio hath created the wheat; blessed be God who hath created the fruit of the vine." Christians, on the contrary, accounting liiem- selves but strangers in this world, ]ilace all their glory in seeing the marvels of the world of grace. Hence it is the common tlieuie ol' their thanks- givings to say, " Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, who according to liis abundant mercy, hath begotten us again unto a lively hope, by the resurrection of Jesus Christ from the dead," 1 Pet. i. 3, 4. Thus it was in Skr. XCV.l ON THE SABBATH-DAY. 371 a pwint of order tlial the dillcrencc of dispensa- tions was apparent in the two ciiurclies. The Jew in his saijbatli, celebrated tlie marvels of nature; but the Cliristian, exalted to sublimer views, celebrated the marvels of grace: and this memorable day of the Saviour's resurrection, the day in wiiich he saw the work of redemj)- tion finished, and the hopes of tlie church crowned; two objects to which we shall call your attention. 1. We sliall consider the words of the text with regard to tlie Jews. Willi that view wc shall state, 1. The reasons of the institution of the yabbalh; 2. The manner in which the pro- phet rexod. xxiii. 19. In the last, ■ome have thought that God was wishful to fortify the Jews against a superstitious custom of the heathetis, who aller having gathered the fruits of the vine, seethed a kid in his mother's milk, and then sprinkled the milk to Bacchus, that he might cruelly kill this animal which pre- Bumes to browse on tiie vine consecrated to the god. Rut I doubt, whether from all the ancient authors they can adduce a passage demonstra- tive that this species of superstition was known to subsist in the time of Moses. This difficulty is obviated by the explication I propose: besides, it excites humanity by enjoining compassion to animals, a duty inculcated by the heathens. The Phrygians were prohibited from killing an ox that trod out the corn. The judges of the Areopagus exiled a boy, who had plucked out the eyes of a living owl; and they severely pu- nished a man who had roasted a bull alive. The duty of humanity is consequently a third motive of the institution of the sabbath. Hereby God recalled to the recollection of the Jews the situ- ation in which they had been placed in the land of Egypt. " The seventh day is the sabbath of the Lord thy God, — that thy man-servant, and thy inaid-si-rvant may rest as well as thou. And remember that thou wast a servant in the land of Egypt, and that the Lord thy God brought thee thence, througii a mighty hand and out- stretched arm: therefore the Lord tiiy God com- mandeth thee to keep the sabbatli-day," Deut. V. 14, 15. 4. In a word, the design of God in the insti- tution of the sabbath, was to recall to the minds of men the recollection of their original equality: he requires masters and servants alike to abstain from labour, so as in some sort to confound the diversity of tlieir conditions, and to abate that pride, of which superior rank is so common a source. There was among the heathens one festival very singular, which they call the Saturnalia. It was one of the most ancient festivals of pa- ganism. Macrobius affirms, that it was cele- brated in Greece long before the foundation of Home. The masters gave the servants a treat; they placed them at their own table, and clothed them in their own raiment. The hea- thens say, that this festival was instituted by king Janls, to commemorate the age of Saturn, when men were equal, and unacquainted with the distinctions of rank and fortune. The in- stitution was highly proper, being founded on fact, and it may serve as an illustration of our text. God in recalling to men the original equality of their condition, apprised them in what con- sisted the true excellence of man. It is not in the difference of rank, or what is called for- tune. It consists in being men: it consists in the image of God, after which we were made: and consequently, the humblest of men made in his image, are entitled to respect. This important reflection, I would inculcate on imperious masters, who treat their domes- tics as the brutes destitute of knowledge. We must not, I grant, disturb the order of society: the Scriptures themselves suppose the diversity of conditions. Hence they prescribe the duties of masters to their servants, and the duties of servants to their masters. But rank cannot sanction that haughty and disdainful carriage. Do you know what you do in mauling those whom certain advantages have placed in your power? You degrade yourselves; you renounce your proper dignity; and in assuming an extra- neous glory, you seem but lightly to esteem that which is natural. I have said, that the glory of man does not consist in riches, nor in royalty, but in the excellence of his nature, ia the image of God, after which he was made, and in the immortality to which he aspires. If you despise your servants, you do not derive your dignity from these sources, but from your exterior condition; for, if you derive it from the sources I have noticed, you would respect the persons committed to your care. — This may suffice for the reasons of the institution of the sabbath, let us say a word on the manner in which it must Ihj celebrated. 2. On this subject, the less enlightened rab- bins have indulged their superstition more than on any other. Having distorted the idea of the day, they would ascribe to the sabbath the power of conferring dignity on inanimate créa- Ser. XCV.] ON THE SABBATH DAY. 373 turcs: they even assign this reason, tliat God prohibited their offering him any victim not a week old; and circumcising their children till that time; they assign, I say, this reason that no creature could be worthy to be offered to him, till he had first been consecrated by a sab- bath! They have distorted also the obligation im- posed upon them of ceasing from labour. The Rabbins have reduced to thirty-nine heads whatever they presume to be forbidden on that day. Each of those heads includes the minutuF, and not only the minutiae, and tilings directly opposed to the happiness of society, but also to the spirit of tlie precept. Some have even scrupled to defend their own lives on tiiat day against their enemies. Ptolemy Lagus, and Pompey after him, at the siege of Jorusalnrn, availed themselves of this superstition. Aiitio- chusEpijjlianes perpetrated an action still more cruel and vile. He pursued the Jews to the caves, whither tiiey had fled to hide from his vengeance. There, on the sabbath-day, they suffered themselves to be slaughtered as beasts, without daring either to defend themselves or even to secure the entrance of their retreat. Some others, the Dositheans, a branch of the Samaritans, imposed a law of abiding the whole day in whatever place they were found by the sabbath. We recollect the story of the Jew, who having fallen into an unclean place, refused to be taken out on the sabbath-day; as also the decision of the Bishop' of Saxony on that point, who, after knowing his scruple, condemned him to remain there the whole of the Sunday also, it being just that a Christian sabbath should be observed with the same sanc- tity as the Jewish. They have likewise cast a gloom on the joy which the faithful sliould cherish on this holy day. It is a fact, that some of them flisted to the close of the day: to this custom the em- peror Augustine alludes, when having remain- ed a whole day without meat, he wrote to Ti- berias, that a Jew did not better observe the fast of the sabbath, than he had observed it that day. But the greater number espoused the opposite side, and under a presumption that the prophet promised the divine approbation to those that " make the sabbath their delight," they took the greater precaution to avoid what- ever might make them sad. They imposed a law to make three meals that day. They re- garded fasting the day which preceded, and followed the sabbath, as a crime, lest it should disturb the joy. They allowed more time for sleep than on the other days of the week; they had fine dresses for the sabbath; they reserved the best food, and the most delicious wines to honour the festival: this is what they called " making the sabbath a delight!" this induced Plutarch to believe that they celebrated this festival in honour of Bacchus, and that the word sabbath was derived from the Greek se6o- zein, a word appropriate to the licentious prac- tices indulged in the festivals of this false god. They affirm, on not attaining the sublime of devotion, that the cause is a deficiency of re- joicing. They even presume, that this joy reaches to hell, and that the souls of Jews con- demned to its torments, have a respite on the sabbath-day. Evident it is, that all those no- tions and licentious customs have originated from an imaginary superstition, and not from the word of God. Instead of the whimsical notions they had imbibed, God recjuired a conduct consonant to the injunctions of his law. The import of the phrase, " doing thy own pleasure on my holy day," is, that thou follow not thy own caprice in the notions thou hast formed of religion, but what I myself have prescribed. Instead of the imaginary excellence they at- tributed to tiie sabbath, God requires them to reverence it because it was a sign of commu- nion with him; because in approaching him on this day, they became more holy; because they then renewed their vows, and became more and more detached from idolatry, and in fine, because on this day they became devoted to his worship in a i)eculiar manner. This is the im- I)ort of the expression, " it is holy to the Lord;" I would say, it is distinguished, it is separated, from tiie other days of the week, for the duties of religion. Instead of this rigorous sabbath, God requir- ed a cessation from all kinds of labour, which would tend to interrupt their meditations on all the marvels he had wrought for their coun- try. He especially required that they should abstain from travelling long journeys; so is the gloss which s'-me have given to the words, "If thou turn away thy foot from the sabbath," though, perhaps, withdrawing the foot from the sabbath is a metajiborical expression for "ceasing to profane it." But withal, they were allowed to do works of mercy, whether divine, or for the preservation of life. Hence the ma.xim of their wiser men, that " the dan- gers of life supei-seded the sabbath." And the celebrated Maimonides has decided the lawful- ness of the Jews besieging and defending cities on the sabbath-day. We see likewise in the history of the Maccabees, that Matthias and his sons defended themselves with resolution on that day. Besides, they were always allow- ed to walk what is called " a sabbath-day's journey;" that is, two hundred cubits, the dis- tance between the camp and the tabernacle, while they were in the desert: every Jew being obliged to attend the divine service, it was re- quisite tliat this walk sliould be allowed.* — I'liis was the divine worship, whicii above all objects must engross their heart, and especially, tiie reading of God's word. This, perhaps, is the import of the phrase, which excites a very diflTerent idea in our version, " nor speaking thine own words," which may be read, that thou mayest attach thyself to the word. 3. It remains to consider the promise con- nected with the observation of the sabbath. " Then thou slialt delight thyself in the Lord, and I will cause thee to ride upon the high places of the earth; and feed thee with the heritage of Jacob thy father." This promise is susceptible of a double import, the one lite- ral, the other spiritual. The literal refers to temporal prosperity; it is couched in figures consonant to the oriental * From the centre, the place of the Tabernacle, to the extremities of a camp of Dearly three millions of people could not be less than four miles. Hence the prohibition of journeys of pleasure, and unholy diversions, eeenu to bave been the object of the precept. 374 ON FESTIVALS, AND PARTICULARLY [Ser. XCV. style, and particularly to tho prophetic. Tlie high places of the earth, arc tliose of Palestine; so called, because it is a niouilainous country. The idea of our prophet coincides with what Moses has said in tlie xxxiid ciiapter of Deute- ronomy. " He has made him to ride upon the high places of the earth: or to ride on liorse- back," as in our te.xt, which implies tlie sur- mounting of the greatest ditliculties. Hence, God's promise to those who should observe his sabbath, of riding on the high ])laces of the eartii, imports, tliat tlicy should have a peace- ful residence in the land of Canaan. Plenty is joined to peace in tlie words which follow: " I will feed thee witli the heritage of Jacob thy father." Here is designated the abundaTice whicli the descendants of the patri- arch should enjoy in tlie promised land. Some presume that the name of Jacob is here men- tioned in preference of Abraham, because Ja- cob had a peculiar reverence for the sabbath- day. They say, that Isaiah here refers to an occurrence in tlie patriarch's life. It is record- ed in the xxxiiid of Genesis, tliat Jacol), com- ing from Padan-aram, encamped before the city of Shechem: and tliey contend, that it was to hallow the sabbath, which intervened during his march. Reverie of tlie Rabbins. The promises made to Abraliam, and Isaac, respect- ing the promised land, were renewed to Jacob; hence it might as well be called the licrilage of Jacob, as the heritage of Abraham. This is the literal sense of my te.it. It has also a spiritual sense, which some in- terpreters have sought in this phrase, "the high places of tiic earth." Tliey think it means the abode of the blessed. Not wishful to seek it in the expression, we sliall find it in the nature of the object. What was this " he- ritage of Jacob?" Was it only Canaan proper- ly so called? This St. Paul denies in the xith chapter of the Epistle to the Hebrews. Speak- ing of the faith of the patriarchs, ho positively asserts, that the promised land was not its prin- cipal object. The " heritage of .lacob," ac- cording to the apostle, " is a country better than that which the patriarchs had left;" "that is, a heavenly country." This is the heritage of which the expiring patriarch hoped to accjuire the possession; and of which he said in his last moments, " O God, 1 have waited for thy sal- vation," Gen. xlix. 18. Tiiis Jerusalem, the apostle calls a high j)lace, the "Jerusalem which is above," not because it is situate on the mountains, but because it really is above the region of terrestrial things. This is the Jerusalem which is the mother of us all, and to which tlie claims of Christians are not less powerful than the Jews. This induces us, my brethren, to consider tho text in regard to (,'hristians, as we have consi- dered it in regard to Jews. Perhaps you iiave secretly reproaciied us, during the course of this sermon, with having consumed, in less in- structive researches, the limits of our time. — But, my brethren, if you complain (jf tho re- mote reference which the subject has to your state, I fear, 1 do fear, you will nmrmur against what follows, as touching you too closely. I said in the beginning, that it was the dreadful excess into which we are plunged; the horrible profanation of the sabbath, a profanation which has so long and so justly reproached us, which determined mo on the choice of this text. We proceed tlierefore to some more pointed re- marks, which shall close this discourse. II. The whole is reduced to two questions, in which we are directly concerned. First, are Christians obliged to observe a day of rest; and secondly, in these provinces, in this church, is that day celebrated, J do not say with all the sanctity it requires, but only, is it observed with the same reverence as in the rest of the Chris- tian world, even in places the most corrupt? 1. Are Christians obliged to observe a day of rest' Thisfpiestion has been debated in the primitive church, and the subject has been re- sumed in our own age. Some of tiie ancient and of the modern divines have maintain- ed, not only that the obligation is miposed on Christians, but that the fourth commandment of the law ought to be observed in all its ri- gour. Hence, in the Krst ages, some have had the same respect for Saturday as for Sunday. Gregory Nazianzen calls these two days two com|)anions, for whicli we should cherish an equal respect. The constitution of Clement enjoin both these festivals to be observed in the church; the sabbath-day in honour of the creation, and the Lord's-day, which exhibits to our view the resurrection of the Saviour of the world. We have no design, my brethren, to revive tliose controversies, this part of our discourse being designed for your edification. You are not accused of wanting respect for the Satur- day, but for the day that follows. Your defect is not a wish to observe two sabbaths in the week, but a refusal to observe one. It is then sutliciciit to jirovc, that Christians are obliged to observe one day in the week, and that day is tho first. This is apparent from four consi- derations, which 1 proceed to name. First, from the nature of the institution. It is a general maxim, that whatever morality was contained in the Jewish ritual; that what- ever was calculated to strengthen the bonds of our communion with God, to reconcile us to our neighbour, to inspire us with holy thoughts,, was obligatory on the Christians; and more so than on the Jews, in projiortion as the new covenant surpasses the old in excellence. Ap- ply this maxim to our subject. The precept under discussion has a ceremonial aspect, as- sortable to the circumstances in which the an- cient church were placed. The selection of the seventh day, the rigours of its sanctity, and its designs to supersede the idolatrous cus- toms of Hgypt, were |)eculiar to the ancient church, and juircly ceremonial; and in that view, not binding to the christian. But the necessity of having one day in seven conse- crated to the worship of God, to study the grand truths of religion, to make a ])ublic pro- fession of faith, to give relaxation to servants, to coiifound all distinction of rank in congrega- tions, to acknowledge that we are all brethren, that wo arc equal in the sight of God, who there presides, all these are not comprised in the ritual, they are wholly moral. 2. We have proofs in the New Testament, that the first day of the week was chosen of' God to succeed the seventh. This day is call- ed in the Book of Revelation, " the Lord's- Ser. XCV.] ON THE SABBATH-DAY. 375 day," by way of excellence, i. 10. It is said in the xxtii cliaptur of the ]5ook of Acts, tliat the apostles " caino together on the first day of tlie weclf to break bread." And St. Paul, writing to the Corinthians to hiy by on tlic first day of tiie week wliat each iiad designed for ciiarily, sanctions tiie Sunday to be observ- ed instead of tiie Saturday, seeing tiie Jews, according to tiie testimony of I'liilo, and Jose- phiis, had been accustomed to make tiie col- lections on tlie sabbatli-day, and receive the tcntiis in tiie synagogues to carry to Jerusa- lem.* 3. On tliis subject, we have likewise au- thentic documents of aiili(iuity. Pliny, tiie younger, in liis letter to tliu em[)eror Trajan concerning tlie C'liristians, says, that they set a|)art one day for devotion, and it is indisputa- ble that he means the Sunday. Justin Martyr in his Apologies, and in his letter to Denis, pastor of Corintli, bears the same testimony. The emperor Constantino made severe laws against tliose who did not sanctify the sabbath. These laws were renewed by Theodosius, by Valentinian, by Arcadius; for, my brethren, these em[)erors did not confine tlieir duties to the extension of trade, the defence of their country, and to the establisliment of politics as the supreme law; they tliougiit themselves obliged to maintain llie laws of God, and to render reliirion venerable; and they reckoned that the best barriers of a state were the fear of God, and a zeal for his service. They is- sued severe edicts to enforce attendance on de- votion, and to prohibit [jrofane s])orts on tliis day. The second council of Macon, f licld in the year 585, and the second of Aix-la-Clia- pelle, held in S3C, followed by their canons the same line of duty. 4. But the grand reason for consecrating one day in seven arises from ourselves, from tlie in- * Saurin is here brief on the reasons assigned for the change of the sabbath, from the seventh to the first day of the week. The reader, however, may see them at large in the second volume of Dr. Lightloot's works, and in the >%orks of Mr. Mcde. They are in substance as follow: that the Son of Man is Lord of the Sabbath; and the Supreme Lawgiver of his church. He has not only chaneed the old covenant for the new. but he has supcr- gedeu the shadows of the ritual law for the realities; bap- tism for circumcision, and the holy supper for the pass- over. The sabbath was first instituted to commemorate the creation; and the redemption is viewed at large as a new creation. Ka. Ixv. The institution was renewed to commemorate the emancipation from Egypt; how much more then should it be enforced to commemorate the re- demption of the world? To disregard it would appa- rently implicate us in a disbelief of this redemption. Moses, who renewed the sabbath, was faithful as a ser vaiil, but Christ, who changed it, is the Son, and Lord of all. The sabbath was the birth-day of the Lord of Glory from the tomb; " Thou art my Son; this day have I be- gotten thee," Ps. ii. It was not less so the birth-day of our hope; God hath bfgotten us again " unto a lively hope by the resurrection of Jesus Christ from the dead," 1 Pet. 1.3. And this was the day in which he began his glorious reign. He then alfirmed, that " All power was given unto him in heaven and earth," Matt, xxviii. 18. And how rould the chnrrli rejoice while the Lord was enveloped in the tomb.' But on the morning of the resur- rection, it was said by the h'alhcr to the Son, "Thy dead men shall live." The Son replies, " Together with my dead body shall they arise! Awake, and sing, ye that dwell in dust," Isa. xxvi. 19. " This i« the day the Lord hath made; we will rejoice and be glad iu it." Psalms cxviii. 24. I. S. t Macon, Malisco, is situate 40 miles north of Lyons, and was a depot of tlie Romans. — Boiste's Did. Ib06. 1. S. finity of di.ssipations which was the ordinary course of life. Tax your conscience with the time you spend in devotion when alone. Do we not know; do we not sec; do we not learn on all sides, how your days are spent' Do wo not know how those grave men live, who, from a notion of superior rank, think tliemselves ex- cused from examining their conscience, and at- tending to the particulars of religion.' Do we not know how tliat part of mankind live, who ap- parently have abandoned the care of their soul to care for their body, to dress and to undress, to visit and receive visits, to play both night and day, and tlius to render diversions, some of whicli niiglit be innocent as recreations, if used with moderation, to render tliem, I say, criminal, by tlie loss of time.' Is it solitude, is it reading God's word vvhicli excite tliose reve- ries which constantly float in your brain; and those extravagances of pleasures whereby you seem to have assumed the task of astonisliing the church liy the aniuscinent you afford to some, and the offence you give to others.' It was, therefore, requisite that there should be one day destined to stop the torrent, to recall your wandering thouglits, and to present to your view tliose grand trutlis, wliich so seldom occur in tlie ordinary pursuits of life. These remarks may suffice for the illustra- tion of the first quesHon, whetlier Christians are obliged to observe one day in seven: our second uuiuirtj is, whetlier this day is celebrated in these provinces, I do not say as it ought; but, at least, is it celebrated with the same de- cency as in the most corrupt parts of the Chris- tian world.' Ah! my brethren, must every duty of Chris- tianity suffgest occasion to complain of your conduct, and furnish impeaclinients for your condemnation.' I look round for one trait in morality, to which we have nothing but ap- plause to bestow, and of which we may say, go on, go on; that is well done, " Blessed is tliat servant, whom when his Lord cometh he shall find so doing. I look for one period in your life in which I may find you Christians in reality, as you are in name. I watch you for six days in the bustle of business, and I find you haughty, proud, voluptuous, selfish, and refractory to every precept of the gospel. Per- haps, on this hallowed day you sliall be found irreproachable; perhaps, satisfied with giving to the world six days of the week, you will consecrate to tlie Lord the one which is so-pe- culiarly devoted to him. But, alas! this day, this very day, is spent as the others; the same pursuits, the same thouglits, tiie same plea- sures, the same employments, the same intem- perance! In other places, they observe the exterior, at least. The libertine suspends his pleasures, tlie workmen quit their trades, and the shops are shut: and each is accustomed to attend some place of worship. But how many among us, very far from entering into the spirit and temper of Christianity, are negligent of its ex- terior decencies! How scandalous to see on the sabbath, the artificer, publicly employed at his work, pro- faning this hallowed festival by his common trade; wasting the hours of devotion in me- clianical laboursj and defying, at the same 376 ON FESTIVALS, &c. [Ser. XCV. time, both the precepts of religion, and the in- stitutions of the cliurch! How scandalous to see persons of rank, of age, of cliaractcr, live, I do not say wliole weeks, I do not say wliole months, hut wiiole years, without once entering these churches, attend- ing our devotion, and participating of our sacra- ments! How scandalous that tliis sabbath is the very day marked by some for parties, and festivity in the highest style! llow scandalous to see certain concourses of ])eo])le; certain doors open; and certain flambeaux lighted: those who have heard a rcj)ort that you are C'liris- tians, expect to find you in the jiouses of prayer: but what is their astonishment to see that tiiose houses are tiie rendezvous of pleasure! And what must we think of secret devotion, when the public is so ill disciiarged? How shall we persuade ourselves that you discharge the more difficult duties of religion, when those that are most easy are neglected? See- ing you do not sufliciently reverence religion to forego certain recreations, how can we tiiink that you discharge the duties of self-denial, of crucifying the old man, of mortifying concu- piscence, and of all the self-abasement, which religion requires? What mortifies us most, and what obliges us to fonn an awful opinion on this conduct is, that we see its principle. — Its principle, do you ask, my brethren? It is, in general, that you have very little regard for religion; and this is the most baneful source, from which our vices spring. When a man is abandoned to a bad habit; when he is blinded by a certain pas- sion; when he is hurried away with a throng of desire, he is then highly culpable, and he has the justest cause of alarm, if a liand, an immediate hand, be not put to the work of re- formation. In this case, one may presume, that he has, notwithstanding, a certain respect for the God he offends. One may presume, that though he neglects to reform, he, at least, blames his conduct; and that if the clmrm were once dissolved, truth would resume her original right, and that the motives of virtue would be telt in all their force. But when a man sins by principle; when he slights religion; when he regards it as a matter of indiffer- ence; what resource of salvation have we then to hope? This, with many of you, is the lead- ing fault. The proofs are but too recent, and too" numerous. You have been often reproach- ed with it, and if I abridge tliis point, it is not through a deficiency, but a superabundance of evidence, which obliges me to do it. And meanwhile, what alas! is this fortune; what is this prosj)erity; what is the most enviable situ- ation in life; what is all this that pleases, and enchants tlie soul, wlien it is not religion which animates and governs the whole? Ah! my brethren! to what e.\cess do you ex- tend your corruption? What then is the time you would devote to piety? When will you work for your soul.-*? We conjure you by the bowels of Jfsus Christ, who on this day finish- ed the work of your salvation, that you return to recollection. When we enforce, in general, the necessity of holiness, wo arc lost in the multitude of your duties, and having too many things to practise, you often practise none at all. But here is one particular point; here is a plain precept, Remember the Sabbatli day. A mournful necessity induces us, my bre thren, to exhort you to estimate the privilege God ailbrds you of coming to his house, of pouring out your souls hito his bosom, and of invigorating your love. Ah! poor Ciiristians, whom Babylon encloses in her walls, how are you to conduct your- selves in the discharge of those duties! O that God, wearied with llie strokes inflicted upon you, would turn away from his indignation! that the barriers which prohibit your access to these happy climates were removed! O that your hopes, so often illusive, were "but gratified. 1 seem to see you, running in crowds: I seem to see the fallen rise again; and our confessors, more grateful for their spiritual, than their temporal liberty, come to distinguish their zeal. But these are things as yet, " hid from your eyes." O my God! and must thy church still be a desolation in all the earth? Must it in one place be ravaged b}' the tyrant, and in another seduced by the tempter; an enemy more dan- gerous than the tyrants, and more cruel than the heathen? Must our brethren at the gal- leys still be deprived of the sabbath, and must we, by the profanation of this day, force thee to visit us, as thou hast visited them? Let us prevent so great a calamity; let us return to ourselves; let us hallow this august day; let us reform our habits; and let us "make the sabbath our delight." It is requisite that each should employ the day in contemplating the works of nature; but especially the works of grace; and like the cherubim inclined toward the ark, that each should make unavailing efforts to see the bot- tom, and trace the dimensions, " the length and breadth, the depth and height, of the love of God, which passeth all knowledge," Eph. iii. 19. It is requisite, that our churches should be crowded with assiduous, attentive, and well- disposed hearers; that God should there hear tlie vows that we are his people, his redeemed, and that we wi^h the sabbath to be a " sign be- tween us and him," as it was to the Israelites. It is requisite, on entering tliis place, that we should banish from our mind all worldly thoughts. Business, trade, speculations, gran- deur, pleasure, you employ me sufliciently dur- ing the week, allow me to give the sabbath to God. Pursue me not to liis temple; and let not the flights of inconunoding birds disturb my sacrifice. It is requisite at the close of worship, that each should be recollected, that he should me- ditate on what he has heard, and that the company with whom ho associates should as- sist him to practise, not to eradicate tlie truths from liis mind. It is requisite that the heads of houses should call their children, and their servants together, and ask them. What have you heard? What have you understood? What faults have you reformed? What stejjs have you taken? What good resolutions have you formed? It is requisite wholly to dismiss all those se- cular cares and servile employments which have occupied us during the week; not that Ser. XCVI.] THE CALAMITIES OF EUROPE. 377 holiness consists in mere abstinence, and in the observance of that painful minutia;; but in a more noble and exalted principle. It is, no doubt, the obtrusion of a galling yoke, tiiat we, wlio are made in tlic image of God, and have an immortal soul, should be compelled, during the whole of this low and irrovelling life, to follow some trade, some profession, or some labour, by no means assortahle with the dignity of man. So is our calamity, ihit it is requisite at least, it is highly requisite, that one day in the week we should remember our origin, and turn our minds to things which are worthy of their excellence, it is recpiisite, that one day in the week we should rise supe- rior to sensible objects; that we should think of God, of heaven, and of eternity; that we should repose, if 1 may so speak, from the vio- lence which must be done to ourselves to be detained on earth inr six whole days. O bless- ed God, when shall " the times of refreshing come," in which thou wilt supersede labour, and make thy children fully freer Acts iii. 21. When shall " we enter the rest that remaineth for thy people?" Ileb. iv. 9; in which we shall be wholly absorbed in the contemplation of thy beauty, we shall resemble thee in holiness and happiness, because " we shall see thee as thou art," and thou thyself shalt " be all in alF' Amen. SERMON XCVI. THE CALAMITIES OF EUROPE. LcKE xiii. 1 — 5. There rcere preseiU at thai season some that told him of the Galileans, whose blood Pilate had mingled icith their sacrifices, ^ind Jesus an- swering, said unto them, suppose ye that these Galileans, were sinners above all the Galileans, because they suffered such thii^s? I ttll you, nay; but, except ye repent, ye shall all like- wise perish. Or those eighteen xipon u'hom the tower in Siloam fell, and slew them, think ye that theyicere sinners above all that dwelt in Jerusalem? I tell you, nay: but except ye re- pent ye shall all likewise perish. " I HAVE cut off the nations, 1 have made their towers desolate, I have sapped the foun- dation of their cities; I said, surely thou shalt receive instruction, so that thy dwelling shall not be cut off," Zeph. iii. 6, 'i. This instruc- tive caution God once published by the minis- try of Zcphaniah. And did it regard that age alone, or was it a prophecy for future times? Undoubtedly, my brethren, it regarded the Jews in the prophet's time. They saw every where around them exterminated nations, for- tresses in ruins, villages deserted, and cities sapped to the foundation. The judgments of God had fallen, not only on the idolatrous na- tions, but the ten tribes had been overwhelm- ed. The Jews, instead of receiving imtruction, followed the crimes of those whom God had cut off, and involved themselves in the same calamities. And if these words were adapted to that age, how strikingly, alas! are they appUcable Vol. 11.-48 to our own? What do we see around us.' Naticjns exterminated, villages deserted, and cities Kap|)cd to the foundation. The visita- tions of God are abroad in Europe; wo are surrounded with them; and are they not in- tended, 1 appeal to your conscience, for our instruction? Jiut let us not anticipate the close of this discourse. We propose to show you in what light we ought to view the judgmenta which God inflicts on the human kind. You have heard the words of our text. We shall stop but a moment to mark the occasion, and direct the whole of our care to enforce their principal design. After having said a word respecting " the Galileans, whose blood Pilate had mingled with their sacrifices;" and respect- ing the dreadful fall of this tower which crush- ed eighteen persons under its ruins, we shall endeavour to examine. I. The misguided views with which man- kind regard the judgments God openly inflicts upon their neighbours. II. The real light in which those judgments ought to be considered. The first of these ideas we shall illustrate on the occasion of the tragic accidents mentioned in the text, which were reported to Jesus Christ. The second, we shall illustrate on occasion of the answer of Jesus Christ himself; " Suppose ye that these Galileans were sinners above all the Gali- leans' Suppose ye that those eighteen were sinners above all that dwelt in Jerusalem? I tell you, nay: but except ye repent, ye shall all likewise perish." Considering the te.xt in this view, we shall learn to avert the judg- ments of God from falling on our own heads, by the way in which we shall consider his visitations on others. God grant it. Amen. What was the occasion of Pilate's cruelty, and of the vengeance he inflicted on those Galileans? This is a question diflicult to de- termine. The most enlightened commentators assure us, that they find no traces of it either in Jewish, or in Roman history. The wary Josephus, according to his custom on those subjects, is silent here; and, probably, on the same principle which induced him to make no mention of the murder of the infants commit- ted by the cruel Herod. Pilate you know in general. He was one of those men whom God, in the profound se- crets of his providence, suffers to attain the most distinguished rank to execute his designs, when they have no view but the gratification of their own passions. He was a man, in whom much cruelty, joined to extreme ava- rice, rendered proper to be a rod in God's hand; and who, following the passions which actuated his mind, sometimes persecuting the Jews to please the heathens, and sometimes the Christians to please the Jews, sacrificed the Finisher of our faith, and thus after trou- bling the synagogue, he became the tyrant of both the churches. Perhaps the vengeance he executed on the Galileans was not wholly without a cause. Here is what some have conjectured upon this narrative. Gaulon* was a town of Galilee; here a certain Judas was born, who on that account wassurnamed the Gaulonite, of whom * Josepli. Antiq. lib. la. c. 1. 378 THE CALAMITIES OF EUROPE. [Ser. XCVI. wo have an account in tlic fifth cha])ter of the book of the Acts.* This man was naturally inchneil to sedition. He communicated the spirit of revolt to liis family, from his family to the city, from the city to tliu province, and from the province to all Jiuica. He had the art of catcliing the Jews by their passions; 1 would say, by their love of liberty. Ho excit- ed them to assert their rights, to maintain their privileges, to throw otf the yoke the Ro- mans wished to impose, and to wilhiiold the tribute. He succeeded in his designs; the Jews revered him as a patriot. Rut to remedy an inconsiderable evil, he involved them in a thou- sand disgraces. It has been conjectured that those whose blood was mingled with their sacrifices, were some of the seditious who had come to Jerusalem to celebrate the passover, and of whom IMlate wished to make an exam- ple to intimidate others. What we said of Pilate's cruelty, suggested by the subject, is wholly uncertain; we say the same of the tragic accident immediately sub- joined in our text; I would say, the tower of Siloam, which crushed eighteen people under its ruins. We know in general, that there was a fountain in Jerusalem called Siloam, mentioned in the ninth chapter of St. John, and in the eightli chapter of Isaiah. We know that this fountain was at the loot of mount Zion, as many historians have asserted. We know that it had live jiorches, as the gospel expressly affirms. We know several particu- lars of this fountain, that it was completely dried up before the arrival of the emperor Titus; and that it flowed not again till the commencement of the siege of Jerusalem: so we are assured by Josejjhus.f We know likewise, that the empress Helena embellished it with various works, described by IVicephorus.J We know likewise various superstitions to which it has given birth; in particular, what is said by Geoffroy de Viterlms, that there was near it another fountain called the Holy Virgin, be- cause, they say, this blessed woman drew wa- ter from it to wash the linen of Jesus Christ, and of her family. We arc told also that the Turks have so great a veneration for it as to wash their children in the same water, and to perform around it various rituals of supersti- tion. § Rut what this tower was, and what the cause of its fall was, we cannot discover, nor is it a matter of any importance. Let us make no more vain ellbrts to illustrate a subject, which would be of little advantage, though we could place it in the iiiUest lustre. Let us turn the whole of our attention to what is of real utility. We have pro|)osed, conform- ably to the text, to imiuire, firnt, into the er- roneous light in which men view the judg- ments God inflicts on their own sjiccies; and, secomUij, the real light in which they ought to be considered. Here is in substance the sub- ject of our discourse. Mankind regard the judgments God infhcls on their own species, 1. With a spirit of inditlerence; but Jesus Christ would thereby excite in them a disposition of * Theuda», v. M. f Wan of llic Jews, lib. v. cap. 26. i Ecclc». Hi»l. lib. viii. cap. 20. \ Voiei Jesuit Euscbius Nieremberg de Lerrapromis, cap. 48. thought and reflection. 2. They regard thera with a s])irit of blindness; but Jesus Christ would excite in them a spirit of instruction and knowledge. \i. They regard them with a spirit of rigour to others, and preference of them- selves; but Jesus Christ would excite in them a compassionate and humble temper. 4. They regard with an obdurate spirit; but Jesus Christ would excite in them a spirit of reformation and repentance. These are terms to which we must attach distinct ideas, and salutary in- structions. If we shall sometimes recede from the words of Jesus Christ, it shall be to ap- proximate ourselves more to the situation in which Providence has now placed us. And if we shall sometimes recede from the circum- stances in which Providence has now placed us, it shall be to approach the nearer to the views of Jesus Christ. The first characteristic of the erroneous dis- position with which we regard the judgments God inflicts on other men, is stupor and inat- tention. I do not absolutely aflirm, that people arc not at all affected l>y the strokes of Provi- dence. The apathy of the human mind cannot extend quite so far. How was it that this un- heard-of cruelly could scarce impress the mind of those who were present? Here are men who came up to Jerusalem, who came to celebrate the feast with joy, who designed to ofler their victims to God; but behold, they themselves became the victims of a tyrant's fury, who mixed their blood with that of the beasts they had just offered! Here are eighteen men em- ploj'ed in raising a tower, or perhaps accident ally standing near it; and behold, they are crushed to i)ieces by its fall! Just so, wars, pestilence, and famine, when we are not im- mediately, or but lightly involved in the ca- lamity, make indeed a slight, though very superficial, impression on the mind. We find, at most, in these events, but a temporary sub- ject of conversation; we recite them with the news of the day, " There were i)resent at that season, some who told him of the Galileans;" but we extend our inquiries no farther, and never endeavour to trace the designs of Provi- dence. There are men who feel no interest but in what immediately affects themselves, provided their property sustain no loss by the calamity of others; jjrovided their happiness flow in its usual course; provided tlieir pleasures are not interrupted, though the greatest calamities be abroad in the earth, and tliough God inflict before our eyes the severest strokes, to them, it is of no moment. Hence the first mark of the misguided disposition with which men re- gard the judgments of the Lord on others, is stupor and inattention. Rut how despicable is this disposition! Does one live solely for one's self? Are men capa- ble of being employed about nothing but their own interests? Are they unable to turn their views to the various bearings under which the judgments of God may be considered.- Every thing claims attention in these messengers of the divine vengeance. The philosopher finds here a subject of the deepest speculation. What are those impenetrable sjjrings, moved of God, which shake the fabric of the world, and sud- denly convulse the face of society? Is it the cortli, wearied of her primitive fertility, wliich Ser. XCVI.] THE CALAMITIES OF EUJIOPE. 379 occasions barrenness and famine? Or, is it some new malediction, sii])ernaturally denounc- ed by liim who lenders nature Iruilful in her ordinary course? Is it tiie exliahitions from tlie earth which cmj)oison the air; or, arc there some pernicious quahtics formed in tlie air wliich empoison tiie earth? By what secret of nature, or phenomenon of the Creator, docs the contagion pass with the velocity of light- ning from one clime to another, bearing on the wings of the wind the infectious breath of one people to another? The statesman admires here the catastrophes of states, and the vicissi- tudes of society. He admires how the lot of war in an instant raises him who was low, and abases him who was liisrh. lie sees troops They treat tliose as weak-headed, whom the visitations of Heaven prompt to self-examina- tion, who recognise the hand of God, and who endeavour to jienetrate his designs in the afflic- tions of mankind. More occu])ied with Pilate than with him whose counsel has determined the conduct of Pilate; more occupied with poli- tics, and more att<'ntive to nature, than to the God of nature, tlicy refer all to second causes, they regard nature and politics as the universal divinities, and the arbitrators of all events. This is what we call a spirit of blindness. And as nothing can be more o])posite to the design of this text, and the object of this discourse, we ought to attack it with all our power, and demonstrate another truth supposed by Jesus trained witli labour, levied witli difliculty, and Christ in the text, not only tiuit God is the formed with fatigue; he sees thcni destroyed hy a battle in an hour; and what is more awful still, he sees them wasted by disease without being iiblo to sell tlicir lives, or to dip their hands in the enemies' blood. The dying man sees, in the calamities of others, the image of his own danger. He sees death armed at all points, "and him that hath the power of death'"* mov- ing at his command the winds, the waves, the tempests, the pestilence, the famine and war. The Christian here extending his views, sees liow terrible it is " to fall into the hands of tiio living God."t He adores that Providence which directs all events, and without whose permission a hair cannot fall from the head: he sees in these calamities messengers of the God " who makes tlanjes of fire his angels, and winds his ministers."]; He " hears the rod, and who hath appointed it."§ Fearing to receive the same visitations, he " prepares to meet his God. "11 He "enters his closet, and hides himself till the indignation be overpast." He saves himself" before the decree bring forth. "IT He cries as Israel once cried, " Wherewith shall I come before the Lord, and bow myself before the high God?"** Such are the variety of reflections and of emotions which the calami- ties of Providence excites iii an enlightened mind. Truths which we proceed to develop, and which we enumerate here solely to demon- strate the stupidity of this first disposition, and to oppose it by a spirit of recollection and seri- ousness implied in our Saviour's answer, and which lie was wishful to excite in us. 2. W^c have marked, in the second place, a spirit of blindness, and our wish to oppose it by an enlightened and well-informed disposition. When we speak of those who have a spirit of blindness, we do not mean men of contracted minds, who having received it from nature, arc incapable of reflection; men who think merely to adopt phantoms, and who talk merely to maintain absurdities. We attack those wit- lings who pique tliemselves on a superiority, who, under a preteiice of emancij)ating the mind fron» error and prejudice, and of rising above the vulgar, so immerse themselves in error and prejudice, as to sink bdmc the vulgar. Persons who have knowledge indeed; but " professing themselves to be wise, they became fools;"ff and are so nuich the more blind, to speak as the Scripture, "because they say, we see."JJ * Heb. ii. 1-1. ^ Mic. vi. 9, •• Mic. Ti. 6. t Heb. X. 31. II Amos iv. 12. tt Rom. i. 22. } H.b. i. 7. 17 Zc!)li. ii. It John IX. 41. author of all calamities, but that in sending them, he correctly determines their end. This shall ajjpcar by a fev/ plain j)roposilions. Proposition first. Either nature is nothing, or it is the assemblage of the beings God has cre- ated; either the efTecte of n.ature are nothing, or they are the products and efiects of the laws by which God has artanged, and by which he governs beings; consequently, whatever we call natural efiects, and the result of second causes, are the worli of God, and the effects of his es- tablished laws. This proposition is indisputa- ble. One must be an Atheist, or an Epicurean, to revoke it in doubt. F'or instance, when you say that an earthquake is a natural effect, and that it proceeds from a second cause: do you know that there are uiidcr our feet subterra- nean caverns, that those caverns are filled with combustible matter, that those substances ig- nite by friction,' expand, and overturn what- ever obstructs their passage? Here is a natural efTect; here is a second cause, liut I ask; who has created this earth? Who has formed those creatures susceptible of ignition? Who has es- tablished the laws of expansive force? You must here confess, tliat either God, or chance is the author. If you say chance, atheism is then on the throne; Epicurus triumphs; the fortuitous concourse of atoms is established. If you say God, our proposition is proved, and sutHciently so; for those that attack us here, are not Atheists and ICj)ieureans; hence, in refuting them, it is quite sufKcient to prove, that thei'r principle tends to the Epicurean and the athe- istical system. Froposilion secoM. God, in forming his various works, and in the arrangement of his laws, knew every possible efiect which could result from them. If you do not admit this principle, you have no notion of the perfect Being; an infinity of events might happen in the world independent of his pleasure; he would daily learn; he would grow wiser with age; and become learned by experience! These are prin- ciples which destroy themselves, and combine by their contradiction to establish our second proposition, that God, in creating his works, and in prescribing the laws of motion, was ap- prised of every possible effect. * Tbii was llie received opinion in our author's time; but modern observations attest, thai great masses of sul- phureous coals thrown on heaps kindle spoiilaneously by the accession of air and rain. So on the tailing of the alum shell of Boulby cliffs, the rain and air caused the mass to iguite. See SutcUffe's Geolo'ical Essays: ami 380 THE CALAMITIES OF EUROPE. [Ser. XCVI. Proposition third. God, foreseeing all those eflbcU, has approved of ihem, and determined each to an ai)|)ropriate end. It is assortablo to the nature of a wise J'einij to do nothing but what is consonant to wisdom, notlnng but what is connected with sonjc design; and to make this tiie distinguishing cliaractcristic of the smallest, as well as of the greatest works. Tiie wisest of men are unable to follow this law, because circumscribed in knowledge, their at- tention is confined to a narrow sphere of ob- jects. If a prince, wisliful to make his sub- jects happy, should endeavour to enter into all the minutiaî of his kingdom, he could not at- tend to the main design; and his measures would tend to retard his purpose. But God, whose mind is infinite, who comprises in the immense circle of his knowledge an infinity of ideas without confusion, is directed by his wis- dom to propose the best design in all liis works. Consequently the works of nature which he has created, and the effects of nature which he has foreseen, all enter into his eternal coun- sels, and receive their destination. Hence, to refer events to second causes, not recognising the designated visitations of Providence by the plague, by war, and famine; and under a pre- sumption, that these proceed from the general laws of nature, not perceiving the Author and Lord of nature, is to have a spirit of blindness. Moreover, all these arguments, suggested by sound reason, are established in the clearest and most indisputable manner in the Scrip- tures, to which all wise men should have re- course to direct their judgment. Docs Josepli arrive in Egypt, after being sold by his bre- thren.' It WHS God that sent him thither, ac- cording to his own testimony, Gen. xlv. 5. "Be not giieved nor angry with yourselves, that ye sold me hither, for God did send me before you to preserve life." Do Kings arrange their counsels.' " Their heart is in the hands of God: he turnelh them as the rivers of wa- ter," Prov. xxi. 1. Does .Assyria afflict Israël.' " He is the rod of God's anger," Isa. x. 5. Do Herod and Pilate persecute Jesus Christ' They do that which God had previously " de- termined in counsel," Acts iv. 27. Does a hair fall from our head? It is not without the permission of God, Luke .\ii. 7. If you re- quire particular proof that God has designs in chastisements, and not only with regard to the chastised but to those also* in whose presence they are chastised, you have hut to remember the words at the oi)iMiing of this discourse; " I have cut otl" all nations, 1 have made their tow- ers desolate, and said, Surely thou shalt receive instruction;" you have but to recollect the words of Ezekicl, " As I live, saitli the Lord, smely because thou hast defiled my sanctuary with thy detestable things, a third part of you shall die with the pe.>ftilence, and another part of you shall fall by the sword, and a third part shall 1)0 scattered: and thou shalt be a reproach, and a taunt, and an instruction," K/ek. v. II — 15. Pay attention to this word, " an in- struction." My brethren, God has tlicrefore designs, when ho aillicts other men before our eyes; and designs in regard to us; ho proposes our ttufntction. Hence his visitations must be regarded with an enlightened mind. 3. Men regard with a spirit of severity and of preference, the judgments which God in- tlicts on others; but Jesus Christ was wishful to excite in tliem a disposition of tenderness and humiliation; he apprises them, that the most afflicted arc not always the most guilty. So is the im()ort of these expressions, " Suppose ye that these Galileans were sinners above all the Galileans? Suppose ye that those eighteen on whom the tower of Siloam fell, and killed, were sinners above all men that dwelt in Jeru- salem? I tell you, nay." The Jews had much need of this caution. Many of them regarded all the calamities of life, as the punishment of some sin committed by the afflicted. The mortifying comforts of Job's friends, and all the rash judgments they formed of his case, were founded upon this principle: you find likewise some of our Sa- viour's disciples, on seeing a man born blind, asking this question: " Lord, who did sin, tliis man, or his parents, that he was born blind?" John ix. 2. How could they conceive that a man, blind from his birth, could have commit- ted a crime to superinduce the calamity? This corresponds with our assertion: they were per- suaded that all calamities were the result of some crime; and even in this life, that the most calamitous were the most culpable; and they even preferred the supposition of sins committed in a pre-existent state, to the ideas of visitations not preceded by crime. They admitted, for the most part, the doctrine of metempsychosis, and supposed the punishments sustained in one body, weie the result of sins committed in other bodies. This sentiment the Jews of Alexandria had communicated to their brethren in Judea: but we suppress, on this head, a long detail of proofs from Philo, Josephus, and others.* They had also another notion, that children might have criminal thoughts while slumbering in the womb. It is probable that those who, in the text, reported to Jesus Christ the unhappy end of the Gali- leans, were initiated into this opinion. This is the spirit of severity and of preference by which we regard the calamities of others. This is what the Lord attacks: " Suppose ye that those eighteen on whom the tower in Si- loam fell, were sinners above all that dwelt in Jerusalem? I tell you, nay: but except ye re- pent ye shall all likewise perish." This is the most afflicted man in all the earth; therefore he is more wicked than ano- ther who enjoys a thousand comforts. What a ])itiful argument! To reason in this way is to " limit thelHoly One of Israel," Ps. Ixxviii. tl; and not to re- cognise the diversity of designs an infinite In- telligence may propose in the visitations of mankind. Sometimes he is wishful to prove thiMn: " Now I know that thou lovest me, seeing thou hast not withheld thy son, thine only son," Gen. xxii. 12. Sometimes he de- signs to be glorified by their deliverance. Thus tlie opening of the eyes of the man born blind was designated, to make manifest "the works of God;" and the sickness of Lazarus was " to glorify the Son of God." Sometimes he pro- * Philo on the Giant»; ami on Dreamt; Joseph. War» of the Jew», book li. rap. 12. Ser. XCVI.] THE CALAMITIES OF EUROPE. 381 poses to make their faith conspicuous; this was the eaii of Job's aflhclioii. To reason in this way, is to revolt against experience, and to prefer the worst of sinners to the best of saints. Herod who is on tlie throne, to Jesus Clirist who is driven to exile; Nero who sways the world, to St. Paul who is reckoned " the filth and olVscourinij of the earth." To reason in this way, is to disallow the tur- pitude of crime. If God sometimes defer to punish it on earth, it is because the punish- ments of this life aro inadequate to the enor- mity of sin. To reason in this way, is to bo inattentive to the final judgment wliich God is preparinir. If this life were eternal; if tiiis were our j)rin- cipal period of existence, the argument would have some colour. But if there be a life after death; if this be but a shadow which vanishes away; if tliere be a precise time when virtue shall be lecompensod, and vice punished, which wo cannot dispute without subverting the principles of religion, and of reason, then this conjecture is unfounded. To reason in this way, is to be ignorant of the value of achetions. They are one of the most fertile sources of virtue, and the most successful means of inducing us to comply with the design of the gospel. If the calami- ties which mortals suHer in tliis life were al- lowed to form a prejudice, it should rather be in favour of God's love, than of his anger: and instead of saying, this man being atllicted, he is consequently more guilty than he who is not afflicted, we should ratiicr say, this man Jiav- ing no affliction, is, in fact, a greater sinner than the oilier who is afflicted. In general, there are few wicked men to whom the best of saints, in a comparative view, have tlie right of preference. In the life of a criminal, you know at most but a certain number of his crimes; but you see an infinite number in your own. Comparing yourselves with an assassin about to he broken on the wheel, you would no doubt find a preference in this point. But extend your thoughts; re- view the history of your life; investigate your heart; examine those vain thoughts, those irre- gular desires, those secret jiraclices, of which God alone is witness; and then judge of vice and virtue, not by the notions that men form of them, but by the portrait exhibited in God's law; consider that anger, envy, pride and calumny, carried to a certain degree, are more odious in the eyes of God, than those noto- rious crimes punished by human justice; and on investigating the life of a criminal, you will bo obliged to confess that there is nothino- more revolting than what is found in your own. Besides, a good man is so impressed with his own faults, that tlie sentiment extenuates in his estimation the defects of others. This was the sentiment of St. Paul: " I am the chief of sinners; but I obtained mercy." This was his injunction; " In lowliness of mind, let each esteem another better than himself," Piiil. ii. 5; 1 Tim. i. 13. But is this avowal founded on fact' Is the maxim practicable? It is, my brethren, in the sense we have just laid down. But the Jews, whom our Saviour addressed, had no need of those solutions: their lives real- ized his assertions; and would to God that ours, com|)ared with tlie multitude of victims whicii this day cover the curlh, might not suggest the same reflection.' " Su|)po8c ye tiiat these Gali- leans were sinners above all the Galileans.' Suppose ye that those eighteen were sinners above all the men that dwelt in Jerusalem.'" Uo you sujipose that those whose dead bodies are now slrewed over Europe? Do you sup- pose that the peojile assailed with famine, and those exempt from famine, but menaced with the plague and pestilence, are greater sinners than the rest of the world? "I tell you, nay." IV. Lastly: mankind regard the judgments which God obviously inflicts on others with an obdurate disposition; but Jesus Christ is wish- ful to reclaim them by a spirit of reformation and repentance. This is the design of his in- ference, which is twice rejjeated; "Except ye rejient, ye sliall all likevyise perish." One of the designs God proposed in permit- ting the cruelty of Pilate to those Galileans, and the fall of the tower of Siloam on eigh- teen of the inhaiiitants of Jerusalem, was to give others an idea of the punishment which awaited themselves, in case they should persist in sin, and tiiereby of exciting them to repent- ance. He has now the same designs in regard to us, while afflicting Europe bcfure our eyes. That this was his design with regard to the Jews, we have a proof beyond all exception, and that proof is experience. The sentence pronounced against that unhappy nation; " Ex- cept ye repent, ye shall all likewise perish," was literally executed, and in detail. Yes, literally did the Jewish nation perish as the Galileans, whose blood Pilate mingled with their sacrifices, and as the others on whom the tower of Siloam fell. Read what happened under Archelaus, on the day of the passover. The people were as- sembled from all parts, and thought of nothing but of offering their sacrifices. Archelaus sur- rounded Jerusalem, placed his cavalry without the city, caused his infantry to enter, and to defile the temple with the blood of three thou- sand persons.* Head the sanguinary conduct of those cruel assassins, who in open day, and during their most solemn festival in particular, caused the etlects of their fury to be felt, and mingled hu- man gore with that of the animals slain in the temple. Read tlie furious battle fought by the zeal- ots in the same temple, where without fear of defiling the sanctity of religion, to use the ex- pression of the Jewish historian, "they defiled the sacred place with their impure blood. "f Read the pathetic description of the same historian concerning the factions who held their sittings in tlie temple. " Their revenge," he says, "extended to the altar; they massa- cred the priests with tliose that otiered sacri- fices. Men who came from the extremities of the earth to worship God in his holy place, fell down slain with tlieir victims, and sprinkled their blood on the altar, revered, not only by the Greeks, but by the most barbarous nations. The blood was seen to flow as rivers; and the * Joseph. Antjq. lib. xvii. cap. 11. \ Joseph. Wars of the Jews, book iv. chap. 14. 382 THE CALAMITIES OF EUROPE. [Ser. XCVI. dead bodies, not only of natives, but of stran- gers, filled this holy place."* Head the whole history of that siege, ren- dered for ever memorable by tiie multitude of its calamities. See Jerusalem swimming with blood, and entombed in its own ashes. Mark how it was besieged, precisely at the time of their most solemn festival, wiien the Jews were assembled from all parts of tlie world to cele- brate their passover. See how the blood of eleven hundred thousand persons was mingled witii their sacrifices, and justified tiie e.xpres- sion in the text, " Su])pose ye that tiiese Gali- leans were more culpable? I tell you, nay; but except ye repent, yo sliall all likewise perish." See how the walls of Jerusalem, in tlie same siege, sapped by the Iloman ram, and by a thousand engines of war, fell down and bu- ried the citizens in their ruins, literally accom- plishing this other part of tlie prophecy; " Sup- pose ye, that those eighteen on vviioni the tow- er of Siloam fell, were sinners above all that dwelt in Jerusalem; I tell you, nay; but except ye repent, ye shall all likewise perish." God has the same designs in regard to us, while afllicting Europe before our eyes. This is the point at which we must now stop. We mast leave tiie Jews, from whom the means of conversion were ultimately removed, to pro- fit by their awful example; and especially, from the consideration of their impenitency,to derive the most serious motives for our own conversion. CONCLUSION. There is then so perfect a conformity be- tween us, my brethren, and those who came to report to Jesus Christ the calamity of the poor Galileans, that one must be wilfully blind not to perceive it. 1. The Jews had just seen examples of the divine vengeance, and we also have lately seen them. 2. The Jews had been spared, and we also are spared. 3. Tlie Jews were likewise as great offenders as those that had fallen under the strokes of God; and we are as great offenders as those that now suffer before our eyes. 4. The Jews were taught by Jesus Ciirist what disposition of mind they should in future assume; and we are equally instructed. 5. Those Jews har- dened their hearts against his warning, and were ultimately destroyed; (O God, avert tiiis awful augur!) wc harden our hearts in like manner, and we shall experience the same lot, if we continue in tlie same state. 1. We ourselves, like the Jews who were present at that bloody scene, have seen exam- ples of the divine vengeance. Europe is now an instructive theatre, and i)ospangled with tragic scenes. The destroying angel, armed with the awful sword of celestial vengeance, goes forth on our right hand, and on our left, distinguishing his route by carnage and horror. "The sword, of the Lord intoxicated with blood," .Jcr. xlvii. 6, refuses to return to its scabbard, and seems wishful to make the whole earth a vjlsI sejjulchre. Our Europe has often been visited with severe strokes; but I know not whether history records a i)oriod in which they were so severe, and so general. God once proposed to David a terrible choice of pestilence, of war, or of famine. The best was * Joseph. Wart of the Jcwa, hook v. awful. But now God does not propose; he in- flicts them. He does not propose any one of three; he inflicts the whole at once. On what side can you cast your regards, and not be pre- sented with the like objects.' To what voice can you hearken which does not say, "Except ye repent, ye shall all likewise perish.'" Hear the people whose unhappy countries have for many years become the theatre of v/ar; who hear of nothing " but wars and rumours of wars," who see their harvest cut down before it is ripe, and the hopes of the year dissipated in a moment. These are instructive exam- j)les; tlicse are loud calls, which say, " Except ye repent, ye shall all likewise perish." Hear those people over whose heads the heavens are as brass, and under whose feet the earth is as iron, who are consumed by scarcity and drought: these arc instructive examples; tliese are loud calls which say, " except ye repent, ye shall all likewise perish." Hear those peo- ple among whom death enters with the air they breathe, who see fill down before their eyes, here an iiifmt, and there a husl)and, and who expect every moment to follow them. These are awful examples; these are loud calls, which say, " Except ye repent, ye shall all likewise perish." Thus our first parallel is correct; we, like the Jews, have seen examples of the divine vengeance. 2. We, like the Jews, are still spared; and whatever part we may have hitherto had in the calamities of Eurojie, thank God, we have not fallen. " He has covered us with his fea- thers, and given us refuge under his wings." We have not been struck with " terror by night," nor with " the arrow that flieth by day," nor witii " the pestilence that walketh in darkness," nor, " with the destruction that wasteth at noon-day. A thousand have fallen at our side, and ten thousand on our right hand; but the destruction has not come nigh to us," Ps. xci. 4 — 7. Our days of mourning and of fasting have ever been alleviated with jo}-; and this discourse which recalls so many gloomy thoughts, excites recollections of com- fort. The prayers addressed to Heaven for so many unhappy mortals precipitated to peril, are enlivened with the voice of praise, inas- much as we are still exempt Irom the scourge. We weep between tlie porch and the altar, with joy and with grief at tiie same instant; with grief, from a conviction that our sins have excited the anger of God against Europe; with joy because his fury has not as yet ex- tended to ns; and if wo say, with a contrite heart, " O Lord, righteousness belongeth unto thee; but unto us confusion of face: O Lord, enter not into judgment with thy servants: O Lord, |)ardon the iniquity of thy people," we shall make these walls resound with our thanksgiving. Wc shall say with Hezekiah, " A great bitterness is come upon me, but thou hast in love to my soul delivered it from the pit of corruption." \Vc shall say, with the prophet Jonah, " Thy billows and thy waves liave passed over me; tlien I said I am cast out of thy sight; yet 1 will look again towards thy holy temple; and with Jeremiah, " It is of the Lord's mercies that we are not consumed, and because his com|)assions fail not: they are new every morning." Our second parallel is there- Ser. XCVI.] THE CALAMITIES OF EUROPE. 383 foro correct; wo liko the Jews, are still spared. Dan. ix. 7; Joel ii. 17; Isa. xxxviii. 17; Jonah ii. 3; Lam. iii. 22, 23. 3. Like the Jews, wo are not less guilty than those who fall heforo our eyes under the judgments of God. What a revolting propo- sition, you will say? What! the men wiioso hands were so often dipped in the most inno- cent blood, the men who used their utmost ef- forts to extinguish the lamp of tnitli, tiie men who arc reiulcred fur ever infiinous iiy tlic death of so many martyrs, arc they to bo com- pared to us? Can wo say of their calamities, what the l^ord said to the Jews concerning the calamities named in the text, " Think ye ihat these Galileans were sinners above all Galileans? Think ye tliat those eighteen on whom the tower in Siloam fell, were sinners above all that dwelt in Jerusalem? 1 tell you, nay." We would wish you, my brethren, to have as much patience in attending to the pa- rallel, as wo have had ground for drawing it. Who then, in your opinion, is tho greater sin- ner, ho who opposes a religion ho believes to be bad, or he who gives liimself no sort of concern to cherish and extend a religion he believes to be good? lie, who for the sake of his religion sacrifices tho goods, tho liberty, and the lives of those that oppose it, or ho who sa- crifices his religion to iiuman hopes, to a sordid interest, and to a prudence purely worldly? He who enters with a lever and a hatchet into houses he believes profane, or he who feels but languor and inditlerence wiien called upon to revive the ashes he accounts holy, and to raise the foundations he believes sacred? A glance on tho tliird parallel is, I ])resumc, sufficient to induce you to acknowledge its propriety. Amid so many dissipations, and this is the fourth point of similarity, Jesus Christ still teaches us the same lessons he once taught the Jews. He renders us attentive to I'rovidence. He proves that we are concerned in those events. He opens our eyes to the war, the pestilence, and famine, by which we are me- naced. He exhibits the example of tho multi- tude who fall under those calamities. He says, " surely thou shall receive instruction." He avers that the same lot awaits us. He speaks, ho presses, ho urges. " Ho hews us by his prophets, and slays us by his word," to use an expression of Hosea, vi. 5. To all tiieso traits, our situation perfectly coincides. What then can obstruct our application of the latter, " E.x- cept ye repent, ye siiall all likewise perish." And shall events so bloody leave no impres- sion on your mind? " Ye shall all likewise perish?" What would your situation be, if this prophecy were about to bo acccomplished? If our lot were about to bo hko that of tho Galileans? If on a fast-day, a sacramental day, a day in which our pcoi)le hold an extra- ordinary assembly, a cruel and ferocious sol- diery, with rage in their hearts, with fury in their eyes, and murderous weapons in their hands, should rush and confound our devotion with carnage, sacrificing the fatlier before the eyes of the son, and the son before the eyes of the father, and make this church swim with tho blood of the worshippers? What would your situation be, if the foundations of this church were about to be shook under our feet, if these walls which surround us were about to fall, and to make us liko llu eighteen on whom the tower in Siloam fell? And what would our situation be, if the curses on those ancient pcoj)lo, and which are this day accomplished in so many parts of Euroi)c, should fall upon us? " Tho Lord shall make the ]>cstiIcnco cleave unto thee, until he consume thee from ort' tho land. The heaven that is over thy head shall be brass, and the earth that is under thcc shall be iron. The Lord shall cause thee to be smitten before thine enemies. And be- cause thou servedst not tho Lord thy God with joyfulness and with gladness of heart, thou shalt serve in hunger, in thirst, in nakedness, and in want, an enemy which shall put a yoke upon thy nock, until he have destroyed thee. And thou shalt eat the fruit of thine own body, the tlcsh of thy sons and of thy daughters which the Lord thy God shall give thee," Dcut. xxviii. 21. 23. 25. 47, 48. 53. My brethren, let us not contend with God, let us not arm ourselves with an infatuated fortitude. Instead of braving tho justice of God, lot us endeavour to appease it, by a s|ieedy recourse to his mercy, and by a genuine change of conduct. This is the duty imposed on this nation; this is the work of all tho faithful assembled here, liut permit me to say it, with all the respect of a subject who addresses his masters, and, at the same time, with all the frankness of a mi- nister of the gospel who addresses the subjects of the King of kings, this is peculiarly your work, high and mighty lords of these provinces, fathers of this people. In vain do you adopt the measures of prudence to avert the calami- ties with which we are tlireatened, unless you endeavour to purge the city of God of the crimes which attract them. The languishing church extends to you her arms. The minis- try, rendered useless by the profligacy of the ago, has need of your influence to maintain it- self, and to be exercised with success; to put a period to tlie horrible profanation of the sab- bath, which has so long and so justly become our reproach; to suppress those scandalous })ublications which are ushered with insolence, and by which are erected before your eyes, with impunity, a system of atheism and irreli- gion; to punisli the blaspliemers; and thus to revive tho enlightened laws of Constantine and Theodosius. If in this manner, we shall correspond with the designs of God in the present chastise- ments of men, he will continue to protect and defend us. He will dissijxite the tempests ready to burst on our heads. He will confirm to us the truth of that promise ho once made to the Jews by the ministry of Jeremiah; " At what instant I sliall speak concerning a nation — to pull down and to destroy it — If that na- tion turn from their evil, I will repent of the evil I thought to do unto them," xviii. 7, 8. In a word, after having rendered our own life happy, and society tranquil, he will exalt us above all clouds and tempests, to those happier regions, where there shall be " no more sor- row, nor crying, nor pain;" and where "all tears shall be for ever wiped from our eyes." Rev. vii. 17; xxi. 4. God grant us the grace: to whom bo honour and glory for .ever. Amen. 384 A TASTE FOR DEVOTION. [Ser. xcvn. SERMON XCVII. A TASTE FOR DEVOTION. Psalm Ixiii. 5, C. My soul shall be satisfied as willi marrow and fat- ness, and mtj moiUk skall praise thee with joyful lips: when 1 remember thee upon my bed, and meditate upon thee in the night-iratches. It is a felicity to be accinainted with the ar- guments which forcibly attach us to religion. It is a great advantage to be able to arrange, with conclusive propriety, the arguments which render virtue preferable to vice. It is a high favour to be able to proceed from principle to principle, and from consequence to consequence, so as to say in one's own breast, with a conscious mind of tlie excellence of piety, I am persuaded that a good man is happy. But how sublime soever this way of soaring to God may be, it is not always sufficient. Ar- guments may indeed impose silence on the pas- sions; but they are not always sufficiently co- gent to eradicate them. However conclusive demonstrations may be in a book, in a school, in the closet, they appear extremely weak, and of very inadequate force, when opposed to sen- timents of anguish, or to the attractions of plea- sure. The arguments adduced to sutter for re- ligion, lose much of their eiticacy, not to say of their evidence, when proposed to a man about to be broken alive on the wheel, or consumed on a pile. The arguments for resisting the flesh; for rising superior to matter and sense, vanish, for the most part, on viewing the objects of con- cupiscence. How worthy then is that man of pity who knows no way of approaching God, but that of discussion and argument! There is one way of leading us to God much more safe; and of inducing to abide in fellowship with him, whenever it is embraced; that is, the way of taste and of sentiment. Hai)py the man, who, in the conflicts to which ho is exposed from the enemy of his soul, can oppose pleasure to pleasure, and joy to joy; the pleasures of piety and of converse with Heaven to the pleasure of the world; the delights of recollection and soli- tude to those of brilliant circles, of dissipations, and of theatres! Such a man is firm in his duty, because he is a man; and because it depends not on man to refuse atVection to what opens to his soul the fountains of life. Such a man is at- tached to religion by the same motives which attach the world to the objects of their passions, which afford them exquisite delight. Such a man has su|)porl in tiie time of temptation, be- cause " the peace of God which passeth all un- derstanding, keeps," so to sjieak, the propensi- ties of his heart, and the divine comforts which inundate his soul, obstructs his being drawn away to sin. Let us attend to-day to a great master in the science of salvation. It is our prophet. He knew the arcjumentative way of coming to God. "Thy word,"' said he to himself, " is a lamp unto my foct, and a lantern to my paths," I's. cxix. lO.T. Hut he knew also the way of taste and of sentimoiil. Me said to Cînd in the words of ray text, yot only that he was persuaded and convinced; but that religion charmed, ravished, and absorbed his soul by its comforts. " My soul shall be satisfied as with marrow and fat- ness, and my soul shall praise thee with joyful lips; when I remember thee upon my bed, and meditate upon thee in the night-watches." — In discussing the subject, I. We shall trace the emotions of our pro- phet, and to give you the ideas, if it be possible to give them, of what we understand by the piety of taste and sentiment. II. We shall consider the words with regard to the humiliation they reflect on the most part of Christians; and inquire into the judgment we ought to form of our own state, when des- titute of the piety of sentiment and taste, so consoling to a regenerate soul. in. We shall investigate the cause of this calamity. IV. We shall propose some maxims for the acquisition of this piety, the want of which is so deplorable; and to enable you to say with David, " My soul shall bo satisfied as with marrow and fatness, and my soul shall praise thee with joyful lips, when I remember thee upon my bed, and meditate upon thee in the night-watches." I. We must define what we understand by the piety of taste and sentiment. Wishful to compress the subject, we shall not oppose pro- fanation to eminent piety, nor apparent piety to that which is genuine. We shall oppose re- ality to reality; true piety to true piety; and the religion of the heart to that which is rational and argumentative. A few examples, derived from human life, will illustrate this article of religion. Suppose two pupils of a philosopher, both emulous to make a proficiency in science; both attentive to the maxims of their master; both surmounting the greatest difliculties to retain a permanent impression of what they hear. But the one finds study a fatigue like the man tot- tering under a burden: to him study is a severe and arduous task: he hears because he is obliged to hear what is dictated. The other, on the contrary, enters into the spirit of study; its pains are compensated by its pleasures: he loves truth for the sake of truth; and not for the sake of the encomiums conferred on literary charac- ters, and the preceptors of science. Take another example. The case of two warriors, both loyal to their sovereign; both alert and vigilant in military discipline, which, of all others, requires the greatest vigilance and precision; both ready to sacrifice life when duty shall so require; but the one groans under the heavy fatigues he endures, and sighs for repose: his imagination is struck with the danger to which he is exposed by his honour: he braves dangers, because he is obliged to brave them, and because God will require an account of the public safety of those who may have had the baseness to sacrifice it to personal preserva- tion: yet amid triumphs he envies the lot of tlie cottager, who having held the plough by day, finds the rewards at night of domestic re- pose. The other, on the contrary, is born with an insatiable thirst of glory, to which nothing can be arduous: lie h:\s by nature, that noble courage, shall 1 call it, or that happy temerity; that amid the greatest danger, ho sees no don- Ser. XCVII.] A TASTE FOR DEVOTION. 385 ger; victory is ever before his eyes; and every step tliat leads to conquest is regarded as a vic- tory already obtained. These examples are more than sufficient to confirm your ideas, and make you perceive the vast distinction we make between a speculative and an experimental piety, and to enable you in some sort to trace the sentiments of our pro- phet, " My soul sliall be satisfied as with mar- row and fatness, and my soul shall praise thee with joyful li|)s; when I remember thee upon my bed, and meditate upon thee in the niglit- watches." He who has a rational and a spe- culative piet}', and he who has a piety of taste and sentiment, are both sincere in their ellbrts; both devoted to their duty; both pure in pur- pose; botii in some sort pleasing- to God; and both alike en;ed in studying his precepts, and in reducinir tliem to practice; but O, how different is their state! The one prays because he is awed by his wants, and because prayer is the resource of the wretched. The other praj's because the exercise of prayer transports him to another world; because it vanishes the objects which obstruct his divine reflections; and because it strengthens those ties which unite him to that God, whose love constitutes all his consolation, and all his treasure. The one reads the word of God because his heart would reproach him for neglecting a duty so strongly enjoined, and becaiîse without the Bible he would be embarrassed at every step. The other reads because his heart burns when- ever the Scriptures are opened; and because this word composes his mind, assuages his an- guish, and beguiles his care. The one gives alms, because the doors of heaven shall be shut against the unpitiable; be- cause without alms there is no religion; because Jesus Christ shall one day say to those who have been insensible to the wants of others, " Depart ye cursed into everlasting fire, for I was hungry, and ye gave me no meat;" and be- cause the rust of the gold and silver of " the covetous shall be a witness against them, and shall eat their flesh as a fire," Matt. xxv. 41; James v. 3. The other gives because there is a kind of instinct and mechanical impulse, if you will excuse the phrase, which excite in his breast the most delicious sensations in the dis- tribution of alms: he gives because his soul is formed on the model of that God, whose cha- racter is love, " who left not himself without witness, in that he did good," and whose hap- piness consists in the power of imparting that felicity to others. The one approaches the Lord's table, because the supreme wisdom has enjoined it; he sub- dues his passions because the sacrifice is requir- ed; in resuming his heart from the objects of vice, he seems to abscind his own flesh; it would seem requisite always to repeat in his ears this text, " He that eateth this bread, and drinketh this cup unworthily, eateth and drink- eth his own condemnation." The other comes to the Lord's table as to a feast; he brings a heart hungering and thirsting for righteousness; he inwardly hears the gentle voice of God, say- ing, "Seek ye my face:" he replies, "Thy face. Lord, 1 will seek. As the hart panteth after the water-brooks, so panteth my soul after Vol. IL— 49 thee, O God. My soul thirsteth for God, yea, for the living God," Ps. xxvii. 8; xlii. I. The delicious sentiments he finds in the communion of Jesus Ciirist, i)ron)pts him to forget all the sacrifices he has made for a participation therein. In a word, not to multiply cases, the one dies because he must die: he yields to that ir- revocable sentence, " Return, ye children of men,"* Ps. xc. 3. Submission, resignation, and patience, are the pillars which sustain him in his agony. The other, on the contrary, meets death as one who would go to a triumph. He anticipates the happy moment with aspirations, which shall give flight to his soul; he cries, he incessantly cries, " Come J^rd Jesus, come quickl)'." Patience, resignation, submission, seem to him virtues out of season: he exercised them while condemned to live; not when he is called to die. Henceforth his soul abandons it- self wholly to joy, to gratitude, and to trans- ports. II. Let us inquire in the second article what judgment we should pass upon ourselves when destitute of the heartfelt piety we have just described. Tliere are few subjects in the code of holi- ness, which require greater precision, and in which we should be more cautious to avoid vi- sionary notioiiS. Some persons regard piety of taste and sentiment so essential to salvation, as to reprobate all those who, as yet, have not attained it. Certain passages of Scripture mis- construed serve as the basis of this opinion. Because the Spirit of God sheds a profusion of consolations on the souls of some believers, it would seem that he must shed it on all. They presume that a Christian must judge of the state of his mind less by the uprightness of his heart, and the purity of his motives, than by the enjoyments, or the privation of certain spi- ritual comforts. A man shall powerfully wres- tle with his passions, be always at war with himself, and make to God the severest sacri- fices, yet if we do not feel certain transports, he must be regarded as a reprobate. A man, on the contrary, who shall be less attentive to the conditions of salvation, and less severe to- wards himself, must, according to the casuists I attack, banish all sorts of doubt and scruple of his salvation, provided he attain to certain transports of ecstacy and joy. Whatever basis or solidity there may be in one part of the principles which constitute the foundation of this system, there are few that are more dangerous. It often gives occasion to certain ebullitions of passion, of which we have too many examples. It is much easier to warm the imagination than to reform the heart. How often have we seen persons who thought themselves superior to all our instructions, be- cause they flattered themselves with having the Spirit of God for a guide, which inwardly as- sured them of their pardon and eternal salva- tion? How often have we seen persons of this description take offence because we doubted of what they presumed was already decided in ♦ What critic besides our author gives this tarn to these words of Moses! Their glosses are, cither return by repentance, or, "Come again as the gras« after the scythe, and re-people the earth, after being desolated a thousand years before the flood." J. S. 386 A TASTE FOR DEVOTION. [Ser. XCVII. their breast, by a divine influence and super- natural voice? How often have we seen tiiem reject with high disdain and revolt, strictures of wliich they were but too worthy? Let us not give place to enthusiasm. I^et us ever pre- serve our judgment. The Spirit ot" God guides indeed, but he does not blind. I prefer a hu- mility destitute of transports, to transports des- titute of humility. The piety of taste and sen- timent is certainly the privilege of some rege- nerate people: it is indeed a disposition of mind to which all the regenerate should aspire; but we must not exclude those that are weak from regeneration.* But if there is danger of striking on the first rock, there is some danger of striking on the second. Under a plea that one may be saved without the conscious comforts we have de- scribed, shall we give ourselves no inquietude about acquiring them? Shall we give our heart, and our warmest affections to the world; and offer to God but an exhausted, a constrained and reluctant obedience? Let us inquire in what case, and what respects we may console ourselves when deprived of conscious comfort; and in what case, and what respects, we ought to mourn when deprived of those divine favours. 1. Abstract and spiritual objects seldom make so deep an impression on the mind as those which are sensible. This is not always * Sauriii, in twenty places of his sermons, attacks a class of opponents whom tic calls casuists, or guides and directors of the soul. These were the supralapsarians. That class of men, I have little doubt, were very clear in the doctrine of the Spirit. And Sauriu is not only clear, but sublimely so, as will appear from this sermon. But he errs in too much restricting it to the more highly fa- voured class of saints. Perhaps this arose from early pre- judice; perhaps from want of seeing the work of conver- sion on an extended scale; perhaps the opposition he re- ceived urged his replies beyond the feelings of his heart, and so far as to drive him to apparent contradictions of himself. We must never console the well disposed with the doctrine of unconscious salvation, but urge them to geek it, as the Scriptures do, and as our author fully docs in the latter part of this discourse. The exceptioiis are in favour of men of a nervous and dejected mind, who mostly die more happily than they live. Now, I would ask, is a man to attain the whole Christian temper without the influences of the Spirit.' Can the harvest and the fruits ripen without the solar influence? Can we be satisfied with our imperfect marks of conversion till assured that we consciously love God from a reaction of his love shed abroad in our heart? Rom. v. 5. Did not the primitive Churches walk in the cbmforts of the Holy UhosI? Acts ix. 31. And is there any intimation that the witness — tlic seal — the unction — and the «pp^iov or earnests and com- forts of the Holy Spirit were confined to Christians of the first age? How are we to attain the Divine image without a Divine and conscious influence? And if Uod testify his frowns against all crimes by secret terrors of conscience, why may he not testify his approbation of the penitent, when he believes with the heart unto righteousness; Why should the most gracious of all beings keep us through the fear of death all our lives subject to bondage? Is heaven a feast of which only a few favoured ones can have a foretaste? Are there no consolations in Christ Jesus, exclusive of a future hope, to which our infirmities alTord but a very defective title? Hence, I cannot but la- ment the ignorance, or bewail the error of ministers, who ridicule the doctrine of the Spirit. Assurance, comfort, and the witness of adoption, are subjects of prayer rather than of dispute. This part of religion, according lo lii- •hop Bull, is better understood by the heart than by the head. Tlie reader who would wish to be adecpiatefy «c quainted with the doctrine of the Hpirit, may consult Si. Ambrose, St. Augustine, and Macarius. In our own tongue. Bishop bull's sermons; the sermon of Bishon Smallridge, and Dr. Conaiit on the comforter; Mr. Joseph Mede and Dr. Ciidworth on 1 John ii. 3; Dr. Owen on the Spirit: Dr. Watt»' three sermons, and Mr. Wesley's sermon on the witness of the Spirit; the collect for the •ixlh Sunday after Trinity. an effect of our depravity, but a consequence of our infirmity. A man may be able to pay a better supported attention to an exliibition than to a course of holy meditation; not that he loves an exhibition more than holy meditation, but because the one devolves on abstract and spiritual truths, while the other presents him with spiritual objects. You feel no wandering thoughts in presence of an earthly monarch who holds your life and fortune in his hands; but a thousand distractions assail you in con- verse with the God, who can make you eter- nally happy, or eternally miserable. This is not because more exalted ideas of God's power than of the monarch's are denied; it is because in God's power the object is abstract, but in the monarch's, the object is sensible; it is be- cause the impression of sensible objects is stronger than those which are abstract. This, perhaps, induced St. John to say, " If a man love not his brother whom he hath seen, how can he love God whom he hath not seeiL'" This argument in appearance is defective. — Does it follow, that because I love not my bro- ther, whom I see, being full of imperfections, that I do not love God, who, though unseen, is an all-perfect being? This is not the apostle's argument. He means, that the dispositions of tlie soul are moved by sensible, rather than by abstract and spiritual objects. If we possessed that source of tenderness, which prompts the heart to love' God, our tenderness would be moved at the sight of a man in distress, and we should be instantly led to succour him. If the sigjit of an afflicted man; if this sensible object make no impression upon us, the Divine perfections which are spiritual and abstract ob- jects, will leave us lukewarm and unanimated. Let each of us, my brethren, ai)ply this remark to the subject in hand. We sometimes want a taste and inclination for devotion; tliis is be- cause the objects of piety are abstract and spi- ritual, and make a less impression on the mind, tlian the objects of sense. This is not always an effect of our corruption; it is sometimes a consequence of natural frailty. 2. The piety of preference and of sacrifice has a peculiar excellence, and may sometimes afford encouraging marks of salvation, though unaccompanied with the piety of sentiment and taste. You do not find the same vivacity in prayer that you once found in public diver- sions, but you prefer prayer to tliose diver- sions, and you sacrifice them for tlie sake of prayer. You do not find the same pleasure in reading books of piety you felt in reading pro- fane books, but you sacrifice profane reading for books of devotion. You have not the same pleasure in the contemplation of death as in the prospects of life, but on being called on to die, you prefer death both to health and life. You uniformly surrender your health and your life to the pleasure of Heaven on being called to the crisis. You would not ransom, by the slightest violation of the divine law, this life and health, how dear soever they may be to you. Console yourselves, therefore, with the testimony of a good conscience. Be assured tiiat you are sincere in the sight of God; and that while a.spiring at perfection, your sincerity shall be a substitute for perfection. 3. The holy Scriptures abound with passages Ser. XCVII.] A TASTE FOR DEVOTION. 387 which promise salvation to those who use en- deavours; to those " vvlio take up the cross;" to those " wlio deny themselves;" to those " who crucify the flesh with its lusts;" to those " wlio strive, or agonize to enter in at the strait gale," Matt. xvi. 24; vii. 13; Gal. v. 24. But the Scriptures no where exclude from salvation those who do not find in the exercise of piety, the joy, the transports, and the delights of which we have spoken. 4. Experience sometimes discovers to us cha- racters whose whole life has been a continual exercise of piety and devotion; characters who have forsaken all for Christ, and who have not as yet attained to the blessed state after which they breathe, and continually aspire. 5. The greatest of saints, and those whom the Scriptures set before us as models, and those even who have known the highest de- lights of piety, have not always been in this happy stale. We have seen them, not only after great falls, but under certain conflicts, de- prived of those sweet regards which had once shed such abundant joy into their soul. One may, therefore, be in a state of grace without a full experience of the consolations of grace. 6. In short, the hope of one day finding the piety of taste and sentiment should assuage the anguish which the privation excites in the soul. God often confers piety of taste and sentiment as a recompense for the piety of sacrifice and preference. We have no need lo go and seek those comforts in the miraculous lives, whose memory is preserved by the Holy Ghost, nor in the supernatural endowments conferred on others. If you except certain miracles which God once performed for the confirmation of re- ligion, and religion being established, they are now no longer necessary; God still holds the same conduct with regard to his saints which he formerly held. We have seen saints who have long, and with ineffectual sighs, breathed after the comforts of the Holy Ghost; and who, in the issue, have experienced all their sweet- ness. We have seen the sick, who having been alarmed at the idea of dying, who having sigh- ed at the simple idea of its pains, its anguish, its separation, its obscurity, and all the appall- ing presages excited by the king of terrors: we have seen them, previous to his approach, quite inundated with consolation and joy. I know we must always suspect the reveries of the ima- gination, but it seems to us, that the more calm we were in our investigation, precaution, and even distrust, in the scrutiny of this phe- nomenon, the more we were convinced it ought to be wholly ascribed to the Spirit of God. Those transformations were not the effect of any novel effort we had caused to be excited in the souls of the sick. They sometimes follow- ed a profound stupor, a total letliargy, which could not be the effect of any pleasure arisinor from some new sacrifice made for God, or from some recent victory over themselves. The sick, of whom we speak, seem to have pre- viously cherished all imaginable deference for our ministry. Nothing human, nothing ter- restrial was apparent in those surprising trans- formations. It was the work of God. Let us ask that we may receive. If he do not answer the first time we pray, he answers the second: if he do not open the door of mercy the second time wo knock, he opens the third. Suffer not thyself then, O my soul, to be depressed and discouraged, because thou dost not yet partici- pate in the piety of taste and sentiment. Be determined to pierce the cloud with which God conceals himself from thy sight. Though ho say to thee as to Jacob, " Let me go for the day dawneth," answer like the patriarch, " Lord, I will not let thee go, except thou bless me." Though he affect to leave thee, as he feigned to leave the two disciples, constrain him as they did; and say with them, "Lord stay with me; it is toward evening: the sun is on the decline," Gen. xxxii. 26; Luke xxiv. 29. These are the principal sources of consola- tion to those who have a sincere and veliement desire to please God, and who have not yet at- tained the piety of taste and sentiment. But though the privation of those comforts should not dispirit us, yet the defect is ever a most humiliating and deplorable consideration. So you may conclude from what you have just heard. Yes, it is very humiliating and deplo- rable, though we should even prefer our duty to our pleasure, when those duties abound with difficulties, and afford no consolations; and when we are merely enabled to repel attacks from the pleasures of the age with reason and argument, which persuade, it is true, but they stop in the tender part of the soul, if I may so speak, and neither warm the imagination nor captivate the heart. Yes, it is very humiliat- ing and deplorable to know by description only, that " peace of God; that joy unspeakable and full of glory; that white stone; that satisfac- tion; that seal of redemption;" and those ever- ravishing pleasures, of which our Scriptures give us so grand a view. Yes, it is very hu- miliating and deplorable that we should resem- ble the Scripture charucteis, only in the drouo-ht and languor they sometimes felt, and always aspiring after a happier frame which we never attain. Farther still: the privation of divine com- fort should not only humble us, but there are occasions in whicli it should induce us to pass severe strictures on our destiny. There are especially two such cases of this nature. 1. When the privation is general; when a conviction of duty, and the motives of hope and fear, are ever requisite to enforce the exer- cises of religion; when.we have to force our- selves to read God's word, to pray, to study his perfections, and to participate of the pledges of his love in the holy sacrament. It is not very likely that a regenerate soul should be always abandoned to the difficulties and duties imposed by religion, that it should never ex- perience those comforts conferred by the Holy Spirit, which make them a delight. 2. The privation of divine comforts should induce us to pass severe strictures on ourselves, when we do not make the required efforts to be delivered from so sad a state. To possess a virtue, or not to possess it, to have a defect, or not to have it, is not always the criterion of distinction between the regenerate man, and him who has but the name and appearance of regeneration. To make serious efforts to ac- quire the virtues we have not yet attained, and to use endeavours to correct the faults to which we are still liable, is a true character of 388 A TASTE FOR DEVOTION. [Ser. XCVII. regeneration. But to see tlioso faults with in- difference; and under a plea of constitutional weakness, not to subdue tliem, is a dislinjruisii- ing mark of an unregenerate state. Tiius it is apparent, that though tiie privation of tiie piety of taste and sentiment be not always criminal, it is always an imperfection; and that alone sliould prompt us to rcfurni it. I will suggest to you the remedies of this evil, after having in the third place traced the causes which produce it. III. To accomplish my purpose, and to ex- hibit the true causes wiiich deprive us of the piety of taste and sentiment, we shall make a short digression on the nature of taste and sen- timent in general; we shall trace to the source certain sympathies and antipathies which ty- rannize over us without our having apparently contributed to the domination. The task we here impose on ourselves, is a difficult one. We proceed under a conscious need of indulgence in what we propose. The causes of our inclinations and aversions are, apparently, one of the most intricate studies of nature. There is something it would seem, in the essence of our souls, which inclines us to certain objects, and which revolts us against others, when we are unconscious of the cause, and sometimes even against tlie most obvious reasons. The Creator has obviously given a certain impulse to our propensities, which it is not in our power to divert. Scarcely do the dawnings of genius appear in children, before we see them biassed by peculiar propensities. Hence the diversity, and the singularity of taste apparent in mankind. One has a taste for navigation, another for trades of the most grovelling kind. Virtue and vice have also their scale in the objects of our ciioice. One is impelled to this vice; another to a vice of the opposite kind. One is impelled to a cer- tain virtue, another to a different virtue. And who can explain the cause of this variety, or prescribe a remedy for the evil, after having developed the cause? But how impenetrable soever this subject may appear, it is not altogether impossible, at least in a partial way, to develop it. The series of propositions we proceed to establish, shall be directed to that end. But we ask be- forehand your indulgence, that in case we throw not on the subject all the light you would wish, do not attribute the defect to this discourse, which may probably proceed from the difficulty of the subject, and probably from the slight attention our hearers pay to truths which have the greatest influence on life and happiness. Proposition first. We have already intimat- ed, that a sensible object naturally makes a deeper impression on men, than an object which is abstract, spiritual, and remote. This is but too much realized by our irregular pas- sions. A passion which controls the senses is commonly more powerful than those which are sealed in the mind; ambition and tiie love of glory are chietly resident in the mind; wliereas, effeminacy and sensuality have their principal seat in tiie senses. Passions of the latter kind do more violence to the society than others. With the exception of tiiose called heroes in the world, mankind seldom sacrifice their ease, their sensuality, their effeminacy, to high notions, to ambition, and the love of glory. And how often have the heroes them- selves sacrificed all their laurels, their reputa- tion and iheir trophies, to the charm of some sensible i)leasure? How often have the charms of a Uelilah stopped the victories of a Samson; and a t'leo[)atra those of a Cesar and a Mark Antony? Proposition second. The imagination capti- vates both the senses and the understanding. A good which is not sensible; a good even which has no existence, is contemplated as a reality, provided it have the decorations pro- per to strike the imagination. The features and complexion of a person do not prove that a connexion formed with her would be agree- able and happy. Meanwhile, how often have those features and tints produced a prejudice of that kind? Nothing is often more insipid than the pleasure found in conversation with the great. At the same time, nothing com- monly appears so enviable. And why? Be- cause the splendour attendant on this inter- course strikes the imagination. The retinues which follow them; the splendour of their car- riages; the mansions in which they live; the multitude of people who flatter and adore them; all these are strikingly qualified to make an impression on the imagination, which super- sedes the operations of sense, and the convic- tions of the mind. Proposition third. A present, or at least, an approximate good, excites, for the most part, more vehement desires, than a good which is absent, or whose enjoyment is deferred to a remote period. The point where the edge of the passions is blunted, almost without excep- tion, is, when they have to seek their object in distant epociis, and in future years. Proposition fourth. Recollection is a sub- stitute for presence: I would say, that a good in the possession of which we have found de- light, produces in the heart, though absent, much the same desires, as that which is ac- tually present. Proposition fifth. A good, ascertained and fully known by experience, is much more ca- pable of inflaming our desires, than a good of which we have but an imperfect notion, and which is known only by the report of others. A person endowed with good accomplishments, and whose conversation we have enjoyed, is more endeared to us than one known only by character; though the virtues of tlie latter have been represented as far surpassing the virtues of the other. A sixth proposition is, that all things being equal, we prefer a good of easy acquisition, to one which requires care and fatigue. Difficulty sometimes, I grant, inflames desire, and se- duces the imagination. When we have a high opinion of a good, which we believe is in our power to acquire by incessant endeavours, our ardours become invigorated, and we redouble our efforts in proportion as the difficulty aug- ments. It is, however, an indisputable axiom, and founded on the nature of the human mind, that things being equal, we prefer a good of easy acquisition, to one that requires anxiety and fatigue. A seventh jproposition is, that a good beyond Ser. XCVII.l A TASTE FOR DEVOTION. 389 our reach, a good that we do not possess, and that we have no hope so to do, does not excite any desire. Hope is the food of the passions. Men do indeed sometimes pursue phantoms; and tiicy frequently run after objects which they never enjoy; but it is always in hope of enjoying them. The last proposition is, that avocations fill tlie capacity of the soul. A mind wliich is empty, at leisure, and unoccuj)ied with ideas and sentiments, is much more liable to be ani- mated with .a passion, tlian one which is al- ready attracted, occupied, and absorbed, by certain objects unconnected with that passion. IV. These propositions may lead us to an acquaintance with the causes of our antipathies and our sympathies. We have laid them down with a view to assign the reasons why most people fall short of tiie piety of taste and senti- ment. This is the point we proceed to prove. We shall also trace the sources of the evil, and prescribe the principal remedies whicli ought to be applied. We shall hereby make tlie fourth part, combined with the third, the con- clusion of this discourse. 1. Are we destitute of the piety of taste and sentimetit-' It is because that a sensible object naturally makes a deeper impression upon us, than an object which is abstract, invisible, and iepiritual. The God we adore, is a God that hiiieth hiotself. The lustre of the duties impos- ed by religion, appear so to the mind onlj'; they have nothing that can attract the eyes of the body. The rewards promised by Jesus Christ, are objects of faith; they are reserved for a world to come, which we never saw and of which we have scarcely any conception: where- tjs the pleasures of this world are presented to our taste; they dazzle the eye, and charm the ear. They are pleasures adapted to a creature which naturally suffers itself to be captivated by sensible objects. Here is the first source of the evil. Tlie remedy to be applied is to labour incessantly to diminish tlie sovereignty of the senses. To animate the soul to so laudable a purpose, we must be impressed with the base and grovelling disposition of the man tvho suffers himself to be enslaved by sense. What! shall the senses communicate their grossity and heaviness to our souls, and our souls not communicate to the senses their purity, their energies, and divine flame? Wiiat! shall our senses always possess the power, in some sort, to sensualize the soul, and our souls ■never be able to spiritualize the senses.' What! shall a concert, a theatre, an object fatal to our innocence, charm and ravish the soul, while the great truths of religion are destitute of effect' What! do the ideas we form of the perfect Being; of a God, eternal in duration, wise in d&signs, powerful in execution, magnifi- «ent in grace; what! does the idea of a Redcem- «r, who sought mankind in their abject state, who devoted himself for their salvation, who placed himself in the breach between them and the tribunal of justice; what! does the hope of eternal salvation, which comprises all the fa- vours of God to man, do all these ideas still leave us in apathy and indifference? This con- sideration should make a Christian blush; it should induce him to call to his aid, meditation, reading, retirement, solitude, and whatever is calculated to enfeeble the influence of his senses, whose sovereignty produces effects so awful and alarming. 2. Are we destitute of the piety of taste and sentiment' It is because the tyranny of the senses is succeeded by the tyranny of the imagination; it is because the objects of piety are not accompanied with that sensible charm with which the imagination is struck by the objects of our passions. This is the second source of tlie evil, and it points out the second remedy which must be applied. A rational man will be ever on his guard against his ima- gination. He will dissipate the clouds with which it disguises the truth. He will pierce the thin bark with which it covers the sub- stance. He will make appearances give place to realities. He will summon to the bar of reason all the illusive conceptions his fancy has formed. He will judge of an object by the nature of the object itself, and not by the chimeias with whiclj they are decorated by a seductive imagination. Are we destitute of the piety of taste and sentiment? It is because that a present, or, at least, an approximate good, excites in us more ardent desires than a good which is ab- sent, or whose enjoyment is deferred to a distant period. This third source of evil suggests the remedy that must be applied. Let us form the habit of anticipating the future, and of realizing it to our minds. Let us constantly exercise that " faith which is the substance of things hoped for, and the evidence of things not seen." Let us " not look at the things which are seen, which are temporal; but at eternal things, which are not seen," Heb. xi. 5; 2 Cor. iv. Let us often launch beyond the confined sphere of objects with which we are surrounded. Our notions must be narrow, indeed, if they do not carry us above the economy of the present life. It may terminate with regard to you in twenty years, or in ten years: it may terminate with regard to you in a few days, or in a few hours. Tiiis is not all, we must often reflect on the awful events which must follow^ the narrow spliere assigned us here below. We must often think that the world "shall pass away with a great noise, and its elements melt with fervent heat," and its foundations shall be sliaken. " The mighty angels shall swear by Him that liveth for ever and ever, that time siiall be no longer," 2 Pet. iii. 10; Rev. x. 6. We must often think on the irrevocable sen- tence which must decide tiie destiny of all mankind; on the joys, on the transports of those who shall receive the sentence of absolution; and on the dreadful desponding cries of those whom the Divine justice shall consign to eter- nal torments. 4. Are we destitute of the piety of taste and sentiment' It is because, to a certain degree, recollection is a substitute for presence. This is the fourth source of evil. You would your- selves, and without difficulty, prescribe the remedy, if, in this discourse which requires you to correct your taste by your reason, you did not consult your reason less than your taste. But plead for certain pleasures with all the energy of which you are capable; make an apology for your parties, your games, your di- versions; say that there is nothing criminal in 390 A TASTE FOR DEVOTION. [Ser. xcvn. those dissipations against wliich \vc have so often declaimed willi so much strength in this holy place: be obstinate to maintain tiiat preaciiers and critics decry tiieni from miscon- ceptions of tiicir innocence. It is certain, how- ever, that tlie recollection of pleasure attracts the lieart to pleasure. The man who would become more sensible of the pleasures of devo- tion, should apply himself to devotion; and the man who would become less attracted by the pleasures of the age, should absent himself from the circles of pleasure. 5. Are we destitute of the piety of taste and sentiment' It is because that a good, known and experienced, is much more capable of in- flaming our desires, than that which is imper- fectly conceived, and known merely by the re- port of others. Why do we believe that a soul profoundly composed in meditation on the glo- ries of grace, is "satisfied as with marrow and fatness?" We believe it on the positive testi- mony of the prophet. We believe it on the testimony of illustrious saints, who assert the same thing. But let us endeavour to be con- vinced of tiie fact in a better way. " Lord, show us the Father, and it sufficeth us." So was the prayer of Philip to Jesus Christ, John xiv. 8. This request proceeded from the igno- rance of the apostles, prior to the day of pente- cost. The request was, however, founded both on reason and truth. Philip was fully persuad- ed, if he could once see with his own eyes the God, whose perfections were so gloriously dis- played, that he should be ravished with his beauty; and that he should, without reluctance, make the greatest sacrifices to please him. Let us retain what is rational in the request of Phi- lip, rejecting what is less enlightened. Let us say to Jesus, but in a sense more exalted than this disciple, " Lord, show us the Father, and it sutliceth us." Ijord, give me to know by experience the joy that results from the union of a soul reconciled to its God, and I shall ask no other pleasure; it shall blunt the point of all others. 6. Are we destitute of the piety of taste and sentiment? It is because all things being equal, we prefer a good, easy of acquisition, to one that requires labour and fatigue. And would to God, that we were always disposed to con- tract our motives with our fatigues; the esti- mate would invert our whole system of life. We should find few objects in this world to merit the efforts bestowed in their acquisition; or, to speak as the Supremo Wisdom, we should find that " we spend money for that which is not bread, and lai)our for that which satisfieth not," Isa. Iv. 2. Would to (iod, that the difficulties of acquiring a piety of taste and sentiment, were but properly contrasted with the joy it procures tlioso who surmount them. In this view, we should realize the estimate, " that the sufferings of this present life, are not worthy to be compared with the glory that shall he revealed in us," Rom.'viii. IS. See- ing then, that whatever part we espouse, whether it be the part of religion, or the part of the world, this life is invariably a life of la- bour, we should prefer the labours attended with a solid peace, to those which involve us in anguish and inquietude. 7. Tiio alfairs of life engross the capacity of the soul. A mind which is empty, at leisure, and unoccupied with ideas and sentiments, is much more liable to be animated and filled with a passion, than one that is already con- centrated on certain objects, which have no connexion with that passion. This is the last reason assigned for our non-attainment of the consolations of religion. Let us keep to the point. Casting our eye on the crimes of men, we regard, at first view, the greater part of them as monsters. It would seem that most men love evil for the sake of evil. I believe," however, that the portrait is distorted. Man- kind are perhaps not so wicked as we commonly suppose. But to speak the truth, there is one duty, my bretliren, concerning which their no- tions are quite inadequate; that is, recollection. There is likewise a vice whose awful conse- quences are by no means sufficiently perceived; that vice, is dissipation. Whence is it, that a man, who is appalled by the mere idea of death and of hell, should, nevertheless, brave them both? It is because he is dissipated; it is because his soul, wholly engrossed by the cares of life, is unable to pay the requisite attention to the idea of death and hell, and to the inter- ests of this life. Whence is it, that a man dis- tinguished for charity and delicacy, shall act in a manner so directly opposite to delicacy? It is because the dissipations inseparable from the ofKce he fills, and still more so, those he inge- niously procures for himself, obstruct attention to his own principles. To sum up all in one word, whence is it, that we have such exalted views of piety, and so little taste for piety? The evil proceeds from the same source — our dissi- pations. Let us not devote ourselves to the world more than is requisite for the discharge of duty. Let our affections be composed; and let us keep witiiin just bounds the faculty of reflection and of love. If we adopt these maxims, we shall be able to reform our taste; and I may add, to reform our sentiment. We shall botli think and love as rational beings. And when we think and love as rational beings, we shall perceive that nothing is worthy of man but God, and what directly leads to God. Fixing our eyes and our hearts on the Supreme object, we shall ever feel a fertile source of pure deligiit. In solitude, in deserts, overtaken by the catastro- phes of life, or surrounded with tiie shadows and terrors of death, we shall exult with our prophet, " My soul is satisfied as with marrow, and fatness, and my mouth shall praise thoo with joyful lips, when I remember thee in the night-watches;" and when 1 make thy adora- ble perfections the subject of my thought. May God enable us so to do: to whom bo ho- nour and glory for ever. Amen. See. XCVIIL] ON REGENERATION. 391 SERMON XCVIII. ON REGENERATION. PART I. John iii. 1 — 8. There was a man of the Pharisees, named J^Tico- demus, a ruler of the Jews: the same came to Jcsm bij night, and said unto him, Rabbi, tve knoio thai thou art a teacher come from God; for no man can do those miracles that thou doest, except God be with him. Jesus answered and said unto him, Verilij, verily, I say unto thee, except a man be born again, he cannot see the kingdom of God. J^icodemus saith unto him, hoxo can a man be born ichcn he is old?. Can he enter Ike second time into his mother''s womb and be bom? Jesius answered. Verily, verily, I say unto thee, except a man be born of icater and ofthi Spirit he cannot enter into the king- dom of God. That which is born of the flesh is Jlesh, and that which is born of the Spirit is spirit. Marvel not that I said unto thee, ye must be born again. The wind bloweth \ where it lisleth, and thou hcarcst the sound there- of but canst not tell ivhence it cometh, and whither it gocth: so is every one that is born of the Spirit. The transition which happened in the con- dition of Saul was very remarkable. Born of an obscure family, actually employed in seek- ing strayed asses, and having recourse on this inconsiderable subject to the divine liglitof a propiiet, Saul instantly found himself anointed with a mystic oil, and declared king, by the prophet, who added, " It is because tlie Lord hath anointed thee to be captain over his heri- tage." 1 Sam. X. 1. To correspond with a rank so exalted, it was requisite that there should be as great a change in tiie person, as there was about to be in the condition, of Saul. The art of government has as many amplifications as there are wants and humours in those tliat are governed. A king must associate in some sort in his own person, every science and every art. He must be, so to speak, at the same juncture, artificer, statesman, soldier, piiilosojiher. Tliose who are become gray-headed in this art find daily new diftîculties in its execution. How then could Saul expect to acquire it in an instant? The same prophet that notified the higli honour to which God had called him, discovered tlie source whence he might derive the supports of which he had need. " Behold (said he,) wlien thou shalt come to the hill of God, where there is a garrison of the Philistines, thou shalt meet a company of prophets. Then the spirit of the Lord shall come upon thee, and thou shalt prophesy, and thou shalt be changed to another man," 1 Sam. x. 5, 6. The Spirit of the Lord siiall come upon tliee: here is support for the regal splendour; here is grace for the adequate discharge of the royal functions. Does it not seem, my brethren, that the sa- cred historian, in reciting tiiese circumstances, was wisiiful to give us a portrait of tiie change which grace makes in the soul of a Christian. " Conceived in sin, and shapen in iniquity, he is by nature a child of wrath. His father is an Amorito, and his mother a Hittite; yet he is called out of darkness into marvellous light." He is called to be a prince and a priest. But in vain would he be honoured with a vocation so iiigii, if tlie change in his soul did not cor- respond with tliat of his condition. Who is suflicient for so great a work.' How shall men whoso ideas are low, and whose sentiments are grovelling, attain to a magnanimity assortable with the rank to which tliey are called of God? Tiie grace which elevates, changes the man who is called unto it. The Spirit of God comes upon him; it gives him a new heart, and ho becomes another man. These are tiie great truths which Jesus Christ taught Nicodemus in the celebrated conversation we have partly read, and which we propose to make the subject of several dis- courses, if God shall preserve our life, and our ministry. Here we sliall discover the nature, the necessity, and the Author, of the regenera- tion which Christianity requires of us. I. The nature of this ciiange shall be the subject of a first discourse. Here in giving you a portrait of a regenerate man, and in de- scribing the characters of regeneration, we shall explain to you the words of Jesus Christ, " Except a man be born of water and of the Spirit." II. The necessity of this change shall be the subject of a second discourse. Here, endea- vouring to dissipate the illusions we are fond of making on the obligations of Christianity, we shall press the proposition which Jesus Christ collects and asserts with so much force, " Verily, verily, I say unto thee, excepta man be born of water and of the Spirit, he cannot see the kingdom of God. Marvel not that I said unto thee, ye must be born again. Art thou a master in Israel, and knowest not these things?" HI. The author of the change shall be the subject of a third discourse. There using our best efforts to penetrate the vast chaos with which ignorance, shall I call it, or corruption, has enveloped this branch of our theology, we shall endeavour to illustrate and to justify the comparison of Jesus Christ; " the wind bloweth where it listeth, and thou hearest the sound thereof; but canst not tell whence it cometh^ and whither it goeth." I. In giving a portrait of the regenerate, and in tracing the characters of regeneration (which is the duty of the present day,) we must ex- plain the expressions of the Lord, " to be bom again; — to be born of the Spirit," though it be not on grammatical remarks we would fix your attention, we would, however, observe, that the phrase, to be born of water and of the Spirit, is a Hebraical phraseology, importing to be born of spiritual water. By a similar ex- pression, it is said in the third chapter of St. Matthew, " I indeed (says John Baptist) bap- tize you with water unto repentance, but there cometh after me one mightier than I; he shall baptize you with the Holy Ghost and with fire;" that is, with spiritual life. When Jesus Christ says, that we cannot see the kingdom of God, except we are born of water and of the Spirit, he wishes to apprise us, that it is not suflicient to bo a member of his church, to 302 ON REGENERATION. [Ser. XCVIII. be baptized, which is called " the washing of regeneration;"* but tliat greater renovations must take place in the heart, than what water can produce on the surface of the body. With regard to tiie other expression, "To be born again," it is susceptible of a double sense. Tiie original term may perhaps be so translated; so is its imirort in various places, which are not of moment to recite here. It may also be rendered, born from above; as in the tiiird chapter of St. James, " The wisdom from above is first pure, liien peaceable." In this te.vt, tiie original term is the same as that which we iiere translate born again; but though the variation might attract tiie critic's attention, it ought not to divert the preacher; for to whichsoever of the readings we may give the preference, tiie idea of our version invariably corresponds with the design of the Holy Ghost, and with the sense of the original. The uni- form intention of Jesus Christ must be to dis- tinguish our state of grace from that of na- ture. The state of nature is low and grovelling; that of grace is noble and sublime; consonant to what our Saviour said unto the Jews, " Ye are from beneath, I am from above," John viii. 23. Now for men whose birth is mean and grovelling, to acquire a great and noble descent, they must be born anew; thus to be born from above, and to be born again, are the same thing; I and both these readings, how different soever they may appear, associate in the same sense. It is of muclx more importance to remark on the words which follow, " Born of water and of the Spirit;" first, that they are Hebraisms; and we have found the authorities so nume- rous, that we have had more difficulty in re- jecting the less pertinent tlian in making the selection. The Jews call the change which they pre- sume their proselytes had experienced a spi- ritual birth; a new birth; a regeneration. It was one of their maxims, that the moment a man became a proselyte, he was regarded as a child, once born in sin, but now born in holiness. To be born in holiness, was, in their style, to be born in the covenant; and to this mode of speaking, St. Paul apparently refers in that re- markable passage in the first Epistle to the Corinthians, vii. 14. "The unbelieving hus- band is sanctified by the wife, and the unbeliev- ing wife is sanctified by the husband; else were your children unclean, but now are they holy." — " Now are they holy;" that is, they are accounted as born within the covenant. Consonant to this notion, the Jews presumed that a man on becoming a proselyte, had no longer any consanguinity with those to whom nature had joined him with indissoluble ties; and that he had a right to espouse his sister, and his mother, if they became prose- lytes like himself! This gave Tacitus, a pagan historian, occasion to say, that the first lessons the Jews taught a proselyte was, to despise the gods, to renounce his country, and to regard his own children with disdain.f And Slai- * Our learmil Male preft-r» the literal reading of Titus iii. 6. The vnshinv of the New Birth, and the re- newing of the Holy Ghtst. From this dislinctinri of St. Pacil, many (liviiii-s liisliiiKiii^tn-fl ihc New Birth as the entrance on Régénération. — The TransUilor. f Book i. chap. 5. I monides affirms, that the children with which an Egyptian woman is pregnant at the time she becomes a proselyte, are of the second birth. Hence some Rabbins have had the odd and confused refinement to suppose, that there is an infinity of souls born of I know not what ideal mass; that tiiose destined to the just, lodge in a certain palace; that when a pagan em- braces Judaism, one of those souls proceeds from its abode, and appears before the Divine Ma- jesty, who embraces it, and sends it into the body of the proselyte, where it remains; that as an infant is not fully made a partaker of human nature, but when a pre-existent spirit is united to its substance in the bosom of its motlier, so a man never becomes a true prose- lyte but when a new spirit becomes the sub- stitute of that he derived from nature.* Though it be not necessary to prove by nu- merous authorities the first remark we shall make on the words of Christ, "To be bom of spiritual water," and to be " born again," it is proper at least to propose it; otherwise it would be difficult to account for our Saviour's re- proving Nicodemus, as being " a master in Israel and not knowing these things." For a doctor in the law does not seem reprehensible for not understanding a language peculiar to Jesus Christ, and till then unheard of; whereas the blame naturally devolved on this Jew for exclaiming at expressions familiar to the Rab- bins. No doubt, Nicodemus was one of those men, who, according to an ancient and still existing abuse, had superadded to his rank and dignity, the title of doctor, of which he was rendered unworthy by his ignorance. Hence the evangelist expressly remarks, that he was " a rul.er of the Jews;" " a ruler of the Jews!" here are his degrees; here are his letters; ivere is his patent. But Jesus Christ, and this is my second re- mark, in borrowing, corrected the language of the Jews. He meant not literally what he said to Nicodemus, that to enter the kingdom of God, or according to the language of Scripture and of the Jews, to be a disciple of the Messiah, one " must be born again:" he never imbibed the notion, that a man on embracing Chris- tianity, receives a new soul to succeed tlie one he received from nature; he had not adopted the refinement of the Jewish cabalists, concern- ing the pre-existence of souls. The expres- sions are figurative, and consequently subject to the inconveniences of all similes, and figu- rative language in general. The metaphor he employs, when representing by the figure of " a new birth," the change which must take jjlace in the soul of a man on becomiug a Christian; this metaphor I say, must be 1. Restricted. 2. It must be justified. 3. It must be softened. 4. It must be fortified. 1. The expression of Jesus Christ must be restricted. We cannot well find the import of any metaphor, unless we separate whatever is * When our Saviour says, that neither the blind man, nor his parents, had sinned in a pre eiistcnt stale, he obviously decides against this doctrine of Pylhagorus and the Rabbins. How tan a holy God send a holy soul into a sinful body.' And St. I'aul says, that Levi paid titlics in the loius of Abraham, — J. S. Ser. XCVIII.] ON REGENERATION. 393 extraneous to the subject to which it is applied. The ideas of all authors whatever would bo distorted, did we wish to extend tiieir iiirurc's beyond tiie just bounds. Wliat is indisputable with regard to all authors, is peculiarly so with regard to tlie orientals, for e.xcelliuif other na- tiou.s ill a warm imagination, they naturally abound in bolder rnetu[)hors. Hence the bolder the metaphors, the more is the need to restrict them; the more they would frustrate the pro- posed design, siiould we not avail ourselves of this precaution. What absurd systems have not originated from the license indulged on the comparison of Jesus Christ concerning the ties which unite us to himself, with the connexion they have with tiie aliments which nourish us, and which by manducation, are changed, if wc may so speak, into our own substance? Pro- perly to understand this comparison, we must restrict it. We nmst be aware that it turns on this single point, that as food cannot nourish us, unless it be received into the body by eat- ing; just so, the religion of Jesus Christ will be unavailing, if we content ourselves with regarding it in a superficial manner; neglect a profound entrance into all its doctrines, and a close application of its maxims to the heart. Of other similes we may say the same. How many are the insipid notions which arise from straining the comparisons between the mystical significance of the ritual law, and the myste- ries of the gospel.' 1 here refer to the types; those striking figures, of which God himself is the author, and which in the fiist ages of the church traced the outlines of great events, which could not take place till many ages after they had been adumbrated by those figures. On contemplating those types in a judicious manner, you will find support for your faith, and indisputable proofs of the truth of your religion, liut to contemplate them in a just point of view, they must be restricted in a thousand respects, in which they can have no connexion with the object they are designed to represent. Into how many mistakes should we run on neglecting this precaution; and on straining the striking metaphors taken from the priests, the victims, and other shadows in the ritual law.' To understand those types and figures, we must restrict them; we must be aware that they bear on this single point; I would say, that as the office of the high-priest under the law was to reconcile God to the tribes of Israel, whose name he bore engraved on his mysterious pectoral; just so, the mediato- rial office of Christ consisted in reconciling God to the men, with whose nature he was clothed. Never had figure more need of this precau- tion; never had figure more need to be re- stricted than that employed by Jesus Christ in the words of my text. The restriction has a double bearing. First, it must be restricted to the persons of the unrcgenerate who are not in communion with his people; and secondly, to the things which Jesus Christ requires of the unrcgenerate. The comparison of Jesus Christ must be restsicted to the profligate, or to the self-righteous, who are not in communion with his people. If we fail to make this distinction, but indiscriminately apply the expression to all, we confound the change required of a man Vol. II.— 50 who has not yet embraced Christianity, with that recpiired of a weak and wandering Chris- tian, who makes daily etibrls to attain the knowledge of the truth, and to practise virtue; or, who recovers from his errors and devia- tions. It would be unfair to say, that such a Christian has need to " be born again," at least, in the sense which Jesus Christ attaches to the words of my text. 2. The comparison must be restricted to the change itself, which Jesus Christ requires of those to whom it ougiit to be applied. Rut in what respects are those things called a new biiili? The metaphor concentrates itself on a single point; that as an infant on coming into the world, experiences so great a change in its modo of existence in regard of respiration, of nourishment, of sight, and of all its sensations, and so very different from what was the ease prior to its birth, as in some sort to seem a new creature; so a man on passing from the world to the church, is a new man compared with what he was before. He has now other ideas, other desires, other propensities, other hopes, other objects of happiness. If you should not make this restriction: but extend the metaphor, you would make very injudicious contrasts be- tween t!ie circumstances of the new, and of the natural birth; and you would form notions, not only unwortliy of reception, but deemed unworthy of refutation in a place like tliis. IF. But the change here represented by the idea of a new birth, is not tiie less a reality, for being couched in figurative language. Hence we have said in the second place, that the expression of Jesus Christ must be justi- fied. In what does tlie change required of those that would enter into fellowship with him consist.' In what does this new birth con- sist? We have just insinuated, that it is a change of ideas; a change of desires; a change of taste; a change of hope; a change of the objects of happiness. I. A change of ideas. An unrcgenerate man, unacquainted witli Jesus Christ, is wish- ful to be the arbitrator of his own ideas. He admits no propositions but what are proved at the bar of reason; he takes no guide but his own discernment, or that of some doctor, often as blind, and sometimes more so, tlian himself. On the contrary, the regenerate man sees solely with the eyes of his Saviour: Je- sus Christ is liis only guide, and if I may so speak, his sole reason, and his sole discern- ment. I have no clear idea of the manner in which my soul can subsist after the ties which unite it to matter are dissolved. I do not properly know my soul by idea; I know it solely by sen- timent, and by experience; and I have never thoiigiit without the medium of my brain; 1 have never perceived objects without the me- dium of my eyes; 1 have never heard sounds witiiout the organs of my ears; and it does not appear to me that these sensations can be conveyed in any otiicr way. I believe, how- ever, tiiat I shall hear sounds when the orixans of my ears are destroyed; I believe tliat I shall perceive objects when the light of my eyes is extinguished; I believe that I shall think, and in a manner more close and sub- lime when toy brain shall exist no more. 394 ON REGENERATION. [Ser. xcvra. I believe that my soul shall perform all these operations when my body shall be cold, pale, immovable, and devoured of worms in the tomb: 1 believe it; — but wliy? Because this Jesus to whom I have commended iny spirit, has said to the penitent thief, and in him to every true Christian, " Verily I say unto thee, to-day shalt thou be with me in paradise," Luke xxiii. 43. I have no idea of this awful mystery, where- by a God, a God essentially One, associates in his own essence a Father, a Son, and a Holy Ghost; that as the distinction with regard to Paternity, Filiation, and Spi ration, is as real as the union with regard to the Godhead. These mysteries have no connexion with my knowledge; yet I believe tiicm: and why? Be- cause I have changed my ideas, because this Jesus to whom I have yielded up my spirit, this Jesus, after preaching the doctrine of the unity of God, has decided, that the Fatlier is God, that the Son is God, that the Holy Ghost is God: and he has said to his apostles, " Go, and teach all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father, of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost."* SERMON XCVIII. ON REGENERATION. PART II. John iii. 8. The wind bloweth ii'hcre it Usieth, and thou hear- est the sound thereof, but canst not tell whence it cometh, and whither it godh: so is every one that is bo)-n of the Spirit. My brethreii, it is not in our power to dis- cuss the subject on which we now enter, with- out deploring the contests it has excited in the christian world. In our preceding discourses you have seen the nature, and the necessity of regeneration: we now proceed to address you on its Author; and to call your attention to this part of Jesus Christ's conversation with Nicodemus; " The wind blowetli where it list- eth, and thou hearest the sound tliereof, but canst not tell whence it cometh, and whither it goeth: so is every one that is born of the Spirit." How often has this subject armed Christian against Christian, and communion against conununion? How often has it ba- nished from the church that peace which it seems so nmcli calculated to cherish? No sooner had the apostles entered on their minis- try, than they magnified the doctrines of grace; but in magnifying them, they seemed sent to Bet the world on Tire. The Jews and tiie phi- losophers, prepossessed in favour of human Bufticiency, revolted at a doctrine so opposed to their pride: they presumed on makmg a progress in virtue, that they owed the ])raise ■olely to their own efforts of personal virtue. No one is ignorant of the noise which the doctrine of grace excited in the ages which followed; of the schism of Pelagius, and of the immense volumes which the ancient fa- thers heaped on this heretic. — The doctrines of grace have been agitated in the church of Home: they formed in its bosom two powerful parties, which have given each other alternate blows, and alike accused each other of over- turning Christianity. No sooner had our re- formers raised the standard, than the disputes concerning the doctrines of grace were on the point of destroying tlic work they had begun with so nmch honour, and supported with suc- cess; and one saw in the communion they had just formed, the same spirit of division, as that which exi.sted in the communion they liad left. The doctrines of grace have caused in this re- public as much confusion as in any other part of tlie Cliristian world: and what is more de- l)lorablc is, that after so many questions discuss- ed, so many battles fought, so many volumes written, so many anathemas launched, the dispositions of the public are not yet concilia- ted, and the doctrines of grace often remain enveloped in the cloud they endeavoured to dissipate; and so much so that the efforts they made to illustrate so interesting a subject, served merely to confuse and envelope it the more. But how notty soever this subject may be, it is not my design to disturb the embers, and revive your disputes. I would endeavour, not to divide, but to conciliate and unite your minds: and during the whole of this discourse, in which the. Holy Sjjirit is about to discover himself to you under the emblem of a wind, I sliall keep in view the revelation with which a prophet was once honoured: God said to Eli- jah, " Go forth, and stand on the mountain before the Lord. And behold, the Lord passed by, and a great and strong wind rent the moun- tains, and brake in pieces tlie rocks before the Lord; but the Lord was not in the wind: and after the wind, an earthquake; but the Lord was not in the earthquake: and after the earth- quake, a fire; but the Lord was not in the tire: and after the fire, a still small voice: (a sound coy and subtle.) Then Elijali, awed with re- verence at the divine presence, wrapped his face in his mantle," and recognised tlie token of Jehovah's presence. The first emblems of this vision have been but too much realized in the controversies of the Christian church: but when shall the latter be realized? Long enough; yea too long, have we seen " the great and strong wind which rent tlie mountains, and brake in pieces tlie rocks." Long enough; yea too long, has tlie earthquake shook the pil- lars of the cliurch; but the Lord was not in the wind; the Lord was not in the earthquake. Yet at this very day the Vatican* kindles the fire, and with thunderbolts in its hand, it pre- sumes to determine, or rather to take away, the laws of grace: " but the Lord was not in the fire." • The rejl ofthia posthumouitermon is not in the origi- nal; neither i> there any apology for the Iota by the pree- byteri and deacona who edited the volume. The argu- ments being reaumcd in the next sermon, and especially the lermon on " A. Taste for Devotion," will, in loine lort, detdope the author 'a teutimciits.' * The Vatican is a mr>:it magnilicint palace at Rome; the residence of the Popes, and ctltbrattd for its lil>rary. The learned Varro says it took its name from the answer! or oracles called by the Latins vaticiitia, which the Ro- man peuple received there from a god of the same name, who was said to be the author of the first sounds of in- fants, which is va, from vagire, to cry. — J. S. Ser. XCVIII.] ON REGENERATION. 395 May this still small voice, the precursor of the Divinity, and the symbol of liis presenoe, be heard to-day in tlie midst of this asseriihly! Excite thy iiallowing accents, in these taberna- cles we liave built for thy glory, and in which we assemble in thy name, O Holy Spirit, Spirit of peace: may thy peace rest on the lips and heart of the preaciier; may it animate all those that compose this assembly, tiiat discord may for ever be banished from our churches, and be confined to the abyss of hell from whence it came, and that charity may succeed. Amen. We must now illustrate the doctrine of the text, and state at large the ideas of the gospel respecting the aids of the Spirit of God, to which regeneration is hero ascribed by Jesus Christ, and without which we might justly ex- claim with Nicodemus at our Saviour's asser- tion, " How can these things be?" With that view I shall, propose certain maxims, which shall be as so many precautions one should take when entering on this discussion, and which will serve to guiJe in a road that con- troversies have rendered so thorny and dillicult. We shall afterward include in six propositions all which seems to us a Christian ought to know, and all he ougiit to do on this subject. This is all that remains for me to say. Maxim 1. In tiie selection of passages on which you established the doctrine of the aids of the Holy Spirit, be more cautious to choose those that are pertinent, than to amass a mul- titude that are inconclusive. The rule pre- Bcribed in the beginning of this discourse, and which we shall inviolably follow to the end, not to revive the controversy, prevents my as- signing all the reasons that induce me to begin with this precaution. It is a general fault, and indeed a very delicate propensity in defending a proposition, to adopt with avidity, not only what favours it in effect; but what seems to favour it. In the warmth of conversation, and especially in the heat of debate, wo use argu- ments of which we are ashamed when reason returns, and when we calmly converse. Di- vines are not less liable to this fault tiian other men. By how many instances might we sup- port this assertion? But not to involve myself in a discussion so delicate and difficult, I only remark, that if there bo in our Scriptures an equivocal term, it is that of spirit. It is equi- vocal not only with regard to the diversity of subjects to which it is applied, but also because of the diversity of its bearings on the same subject. And what ought to be the more care- fully noticed in the subject we discuss, is, that it has significations without number when ap- plied to the aids of the Holy Spirit which hea- ven accords to men. Do not imagine that every time it is said the Spirit of God is given to man, the gifts of sanctifying grace are to be understood. In very many places it signifies the gift of miracles. Select, therefore, the passages on which you would establish the doctrine of sanctifying grace; and bo less soli- citous of amassing a n)ultitude, than of urging those which are pertinent and conclusive. Maxim 2. In establishing the doctrine of the operation of grace, be cautious of overturn- ing another not less essential to religion. When you establish this part of our Saviour's theo- logy, be careful not to injure his moral code; and under the plea of rendering man orthodox, do not make hiin wicked. As there is nothing so rare in the intercourse of life, as a certain equanimity of tem]>er, which makes a man al- ways appear like himself, and unfluctuating, how much soever he may fluctuate in circum- stances; so there is nothing more rare in the sciences than that candour of argument, which in maintaining a proposition, we leave in full force some otiier |iroposition we had maintain- ed, and wiiich we had had some particular rea- son for so doing. There are some authors constantly at variance with themselves. What is requisite to refute what a certain author ad- vances in a recent publication? We have but to adduce what he has presumed to establish in a former work. By what means may we re- fute what a preaciier has just advanced in the last sentences of a discourse? By adducing what ho presumed to confirm but a moment before in the same discourse. Now, my bre- thren, there is one point of the Christian doc- trine, on which this caution is very necessary; it is that on which we spake to-day. Let us take care that we do not merit the censure which has been made on the most celebrated of the ancient advocates of grace* (whether correct or incorrect I do not undertake to de- termine;) the censure is, that when attacking the Maniclicans, he favoured the cause of the Pelagians; and when attacking the Pelagians, he favoured the cause of the Manicheans. Let us detest the ma.xims of certain modern preach- ers concerning the doctrines of grace; that a preacher should be orthodox in the body of his sermon, but heretic in the application. No; let us not be heretics either in the body or in the application of our sermons. Let us neither favour the system of Pelagius, nor that of the Manicheans. Let us have a theology and a morality equally supported. Let us take heed not to establish the doctrine of the divine aids, in a way that attacks the other doctrines, as those men do; for God, who is supremely holy, is not the author of sin. Let us take heed in expounding the passages which esta- blish the doctrine of grace, not to do it in a way which makes them impugn those pas- sages of Scripture, where God " invites all men to repentance:" Rom. ii. 4. and where it is said, that " he is not willing that any should perish, but that all should come to repentance," 2 Pet. iii. 9; where he declares that " if we do perish," " it is of ourselves," and only of our- selves, Hos. xiii. 9; where he calls upon the inhabitants of Jerusalem to confess, that he had taken all the proper care that his "vine- yard should bring forth grapes, though it brought forth wild grapes," Isa. v. 3, 4; where he introduces himself as addressing to man- kind the most pathetic exhortations, and en- treaties the most ardent, to promote their con- version, and as shedding the bitterest tears on their refusal; as saying in the excess of his grief, " O tiiat thou hadst known, at least in this thy day, the things tliat belong to thy peace," Luke xix. 41, 42. " O that my peo- ple had hearkened unto me," Fs. Ixxxi. 13; * Augustin, 396 ON llEGENERATIOX. [Ser. XCVIII. " O that they were wise; that Ihoy understood this; tliat they would consider tlieir latter end," Deut. xxxii. 29. Jilaxiin 3. Do not abandon the doctrine of pracp, l)ccause you are unable to e.xplairt ail its abstruse refinements, or bec-auscyou cannot reply to all tlie inquiries it may liave suggest- ed. Tlicre is scarcely a projiosition which could claim our assent, were wc to give it to those only whose several ])arts we can clearly explain, and to whose many quf.stions we can fully reply. This maxim is es-sential to all the sciences. Theoloiiy has what is common to all human sciences: and in addition, as its object is much more noble and e.valted, it has more points, concerning wiiich it is not possible fully to satisfy the mind. This is especially the case with regard to the doctrine we now discuss. I might, were it required, give you many de- monstrations, that tlie nature of the doctrine is such that we cannot perfectly comprehend it. We know so little of the manner in which certain ideas and certain sentiments are excit- ed in the soul; we know so little how the un- derstanding acquiesces, and how the will de- termines, that it is not surprising if we are ignorant of what is requisite for the under- standing to acquiesce, and the will to deter- mine, in religion: we especially know so little of the various means God can employ, when he is pleased to work on our soul, that it is really a chance to hit on the riglit one by which he draws us from tlie world: it may be by his sovereignty over our senses; it may be by an immediate operation on the .«substance of our souls. But without having recourse to this mode of reasoning, the doctrine of my te.xt is quite sufl'icicnt to substantiate the maxim I advance. I presume that you ought to admit the doctrine of grace, though you can neither perfectly explain it, nor adequately answer all the questions it may have excited. This is the precise import of the comparison Jesus Christ makes between the agency of the Holy Spirit and the operations of the wind. " The wind bloweth where it listeth, and thou hearest the sound thereof, but canst not tell whence it cometh, and whitlier it goeth: so is every one that is born of the Spirit." J\Jexim 4. When two truths on the doc- trines of grace are apparently in opposition, and cannot be reconciled, sacrifice the less im- portant to tiiat which is of greater moment. Two truths cannot in reality be in opposition. It is a fact demonstrated, that two contradic- tory propositions cannot both be true; but the limits of our understanding often present a contradiction whore in reality none exists. 1 frequently hear learned men expound the gos- pel, but adopting ditlerent methods to attain the same end, they suggest diilicullies alter- nately. Some press the duty of man; others enlarge on the inability of man, and on the need he Itas of divine a.-^sistance. Tlie former tax the hiW:r witli giving sanction to the cor- ruption of iiian: and the latter charge the for- mer with flattering the pride of man. The first object t« the second, that in totally de- stroying the f.icullies of man, and in straining the necessity of grace, they authorize him to say, " Seeing literally that I can do nothing, 1 ought not to blame myself for doing nothing; nor to make a crime of remaining where I am." The second charge the first that in conferring too much honour on the powers of man, and in affording him too much reason to believe he is still the arbitrator of his own will, they throw the temptation in his way to crown himself with his osvn merits, and to become the work- er of his own .«alvalion. Now, supposing we were obliged to choose eitlicr to lean to the pride of man, or to his corruption, for which must we decide? I am fully convinced that the necessity of diligence, which is imposed upon us, should not give any colour to our pride: and you will see it instantly; you will see that however great the application which the best of saints may have made to the work of their salvation, humility was their invariable sentiment. You will see that aller having read, and thought, and reflected; that having endeavoured to subdue their sçnses, and to sacrifice the passions God requires in sacrifice, they have believed it their duty to abase their eyes to the earth, and to sink into the dust from which they were made; yea, always to say with the profoundest sentiments of abase- ment, " O God, righteousness belongeth unto thee, but unto us shame and confusion of face," Dan. ix. 7. Hence, if we were obliged to choose either a system which apparently fa- vours the pride of man, or a system which ap- parently favours his corruption, we could not hesitate, we must sacrifice the last to the first. The reason is obvious, because in leaning to the pride of man, you do but favour one pas- sion, whereas, by leaning to the corruption of man, you favour every passion; you favour hatred, revenge, and obduracy; and in favour- ing every passion, you favour this very pride you are wishful to destroj'. Now, it must be incomparably better to favour but one passion, than to favour them all in one. J\Iaxitn 5. In pressing the laws of grace, do not impose the law of making rules so general as to admit of no exceptions. I know indeed that God is always like himself, and that there is a certain uniformity which is the grand cha- racter of all his actions; but on this occasion, as on many others, he deviates from common rules. There are miracles in grace, as in na- ture: so you shall presently see, my brethren, in the use of this maxim, and in the necessity of this precaution. II. Entering now on the doctrine of grace, and with the precautions just laid down, do not fear to follow us into this troubled sea, how dangerous soever it may appear, and how abundant soever it may be, in shipwrecks. I proceed to a.ssociate practice with speculation, and to comprise in six propositions all that a Christian ought to know, and all he ought to do, in regard to this subject. 1. Nature is so dejiraved, that man, without supernatural aids, cannot conform to the con- ditions of his salvation. 2. That how invincible soever this corruption may be, there is a wide difference between the man who enjoys, and the man who is deprived of revelation. 3. That the aids which man can neither de- rive from the wreck of nature, nor from ex- terior revelation, arc promised to him in the gospel. Ser. xcviir.] ON REGENERATION. 397 4. That though man can neither draw from the wreck of nature, nor from exterior revela- tion, tiic requisite aid to fulfil the conditions of his salvation; and tliough tlie grace of the Holy Spirit be i)roniised to him; he has no right to presume on those aids, while he obstinately re- sists the aids afforded him by his frail nature, and by exterior revelation. 6. That the aids of the Holy Spirit promis- ed to men, are imparted at first by measure; hence to abuse tiiose he already has, is the surest way to obstruct the reception of fresh support. 6. To whatever degree one may have carried the abuse of past fïivours, one ought not to de- spair of obtaining fresh support, which sitould always be asked witli fervent prayer. These, brethren, are our six propositions, which apparently contain all tliat a Christian ought to know, and all he ought to do on this subject. God is my witness that I enter on the discussion in such a way as appears to me most proper to cherish among us that peace, which should ever be so dear, and to prevent all those unhappy controversies which have agitated tlie church in general, and this repub- lic in particular. I shall proceed with these propositions in the same temper as I have enu- merated them, and haste to make them the . conclusion of this discourse. 1. Nature is so depraved, that man, without supernatural aids, cannot conform to tlie con- ditions of his salvation. Would to God that this proposition was less true! Would to God that we had more difficulty in proving it! But study your own heart. Listen to what it whis- pers in your ear concerning the precepts God has given in his word: listen to it on the sight of the man who has offended you. What ani- mosity! wliat detestation! what revenge! Lis- ten to it in prosperity. What ambition! what pride! what arrogance! Listen to it when we exhort you to humility, to patience, to charity. What evasions! what repugnance! what e.xcuses! From the study of your own heart, proceed to that of others. Examine the infancy, the life, the death of man. In his infancy you will see the fatal germ of his corruption; sad, but sensible proof of the depravity of your na- ture, an alarming omen of the future. You will see him prone to evil from his very cradle, indicating from his early years the seeds of every vice, and giving from the arms of the nurses that suckle him, preludes of all the ex- cesses into which he will fall as soon as his ca- pacity is able to aid his corruption. Contem- plate him in mature age; see what connexions he forms with his associates! Connexions of ambition; connexions of avarice; connexions of cupidity. Look at him in the hour of death, and you will see him torn from a world from which he cannot detach his heart, regret- ting even the objects which have constituted his crimes, and carrying to the tomb, if I may so speak, the very passions which, during life, have divided the empire of his soul. After studying man, study the Scriptures: there you will see that God has pledged the infallibility of his testimony to convince us of a truth, to which our presumption scrupled to subscribe. It will say, that " you were con- say, that " in you; that is, in your flesh, dwell- cth no good thing." It will say, that "this flesh is not subject to the law of God; neither indeed can be." It will say, that you carry within you, "a law in your members, which wars aofainst tlie law of your mind; a flesh which lusleth against the spirit." It will tell you, tliat man in regard to tlie conditions of his salvation is a stock, a stone, a nothing; that he is blind and dead. It would be easy to swell the list! It would be easy indeed, but in adducing to you tliose pas.sages of Scripture on whicfi we found the sad doctrine of natural de- pravity, I observe the caution already laid down, of preferring in the selection, a small number of conclusive passages, to the produc- tion of a multitude. Nature being so far cor- rupted, man cannot, without the aids of grace- conform to the conditions of his salvation. Here is the first thing you ought to know, and the first thing you ought to do; it is, to feel your weakness and inability; to humble and abase yourselves in presence of the holy God; to cry from the abyss into which you are plunged, " O wretched man that I am, who shall deliver me from the body of this death!" Rom. vii. 24. It is to groan under the depra- vity of sin. O glory of primitive innocence, whitiier art thou fled! O happy period, in which man was naturally prompted to believe what is true, and to love what is amiable, why art thou so quickly vanished away! Let us not deplore the curse on the ground; the infection of air; nor the animals destined for the service of man, that now turn their fury against him; let us rather deplore our disordered faculties; our be- clouded reason, and our perverted will. 2. But however great, however invincible, the corruption of all men may be, there is a wide difierence between him who has the ad- vantage of revelation, and him to whom it is denied. This is the second thing you ought to know on the subject we discuss; and this se- cond point of speculation is a second source of practice. Do not apply to Christians born in the Church, and acquainted with revelation, portraits which the holy Scriptures give solely to those who are born in pagan darkness. I am fully aware that revelation, unattended with the supernatural aids of grace, is inade- quate for a man's conversion. The preceding article is sufficient to prove it. I know that all men are naturally " dead in trespasses and sins." It is evident, however, that this death has its degrees: and that the impotency of a man, favoured with revelation, is not of the same kind as that of him who is still in pagan dai;kness. It is equally manifest, that a man, who, after having heard the doctrine of the gospel, grovels in the same sort of error and of vice into which he was impetuously drawn by his natural depravity, is incomparably more guilty than he who never heard the gospel. Hear what Jesus Christ says of those who, hav- ing heard the gospel, and who had not availed themselves of its aids to forsake their error and vice; " Had I not come and spoken unto them, they had not had sin; but now they have no cloak for their sin." Here is the second thing you ought to know; hence the second thing you ought to do, is, not to shelter yourselves, ceived in sin, and shapen in iniquity." It will I with a view to extenuate voluntary depravity. 398 ON REGENERATION. [Ser. XCVIII. under certain passages of Scripture, which ex- claim not against the impotency of a Christian, but against that of a man wiio is still in pagan darkness; you must apply the general assertion of Jesus Christ to all the exterior cares that have been taken to promote your conversion: " If I liad not come and spoken unto them, they had not had sin; but now tliey have no cloak for their sin." O my soul, with what humiliating ideas should those words of the Lord strike thee! If God had not come; if he had not made thee to suck truth and virtue with thy mother's milk; if he had not raised thee up masters in thy youth, and ministers in thy riper age; if thou iiadst not heard so many instructive and patlietic sermons, and read so many instructive and affecting books; if thou hadst not been pressed by a thousand and a thousand calls, thou hadst not had sin; at least thou mightest have exculpated thyself on the ground of thy ignorance and natural depravity; but now thou art "without excuse." O un- happy creature, what years has God tutored thee in his church! What account canst thou give of all his care! Now tliou art " without excuse." Here is the way we should study ourselves, and not lose sight of the precaution, not to sap morality under a plea of establish- ing this part of our theology. 3. The aids which man is unable to draw either from the wreck of nature or from exte- rior revelation, are promised to him in the gos- pel: he may attain tliem by the operations of the Holy Spirit. TlianKs be to God this con- solatory proposition is supported by express passages of Scripture; by passages the most conclusive, according to our first precaution. "What else is the import of the thirty-first chap- ter of Jeremiah's prophecies.' " Heboid the days come, saith tiio Lord, tiiat I will make a new covenant witii the house of Israel, and with the house of Judah. — This shall be the covenant that I will make with them: I will put my law in their inward parts, and write it in their hearts." What else is the import of the thirty-sixth cliapter of Ezekiel's prophecies.' *' I will sprinkle clean water upon you; I will give you a new heart; I will put a new spirit within you." What else is the import of St. James' words in the first chapter of his general «pistle.' " If any man lack wisdom, let him ask of God, that givcth to all men liberally, and opbraideth not. And of Jesus Christ in the words of my text, " The wind bloweth where it hsteth, and thou hearest the sound thereof, but canst not tell whence it cometii, and whi- ther it goeth." Hence the third thing tliat we should know, and the third thing that we .sliquld do, is, to bless God that he has not left us to the weakness of nature; it is, like St. Paul, " to give thanks to God through Jesus Christ," Rom. i. 8; it is to ask of him tiiose continual supports, without which " we can do nothing." It is often to say to him, " O God, draw us, and we will run after thee. Create in us a clean heart, and renew a right spirit within Ufl," Cant. i. 8; I's. li. 12. 4. But is it sufficient to pray.' Is it enough to ask? We have said in the foarlh place, tliat though a man may bo unable to draw from frail nature, and exterior revelation, the Tcqm- site aids to conform to the conditions of his sal- vation; he has no right to presume on the grace of the Holy Spirit, while he obstinately resists the aids wiiif li frail nature, and revelation af- ford. But here we seem to forget one of the maxims already laid down, and wiiat we our- selves have advanced; that if it is requisite for me to fulfil the conditions with which the gos- pel has connected salvation, how can I do otherwise tiian obstinately resist the efforts which frail nature, and exterior revelation af- ford.' This difficulty is but in appearance. To know, whether wlien abandoned to our natural depravity, and aided only by exterior revela- tion, we can conform to the conditions of the gospel; or whether, when abandoned to the depravity of nature, and aided only by exterior revelation, we are invincibly impelled to every species of crime, are two very different ques- tions. That we cannot perform the conditions of salvation, I readily allow; but that we are invincibly impelled to every species of crime, is insupportable. Whence then came the dif- ference between heathen and heathen, between Fabricius and Lucullus, between Augustus and Sylla, between Nero and Titus, between Com- modus and Antony? Whatever you are able to do by your natural strength, and especially when aided by the light of revelation, do it, if you wish to have any well-founded hope of ob- taining the supernatural aids, without which you cannot fulfil the conditions of your salva- tion. But the Scriptures declare, you say, that without the grace of the Holy Spirit you can do nothing, and that you can have no real vir- tue but what participates of your natural cor- ruption: I allow it; but practice the virtues which participate of your natural corruption, if you would wish God to grant you his divine aids. Be corrupt as Fabricius, and not as Lu- cullus; be corrupt as Augustus, and not as Syl- la; be corrupt as Titus, and not as Nero; as An- tonius, and not as Commodus. One of the grand reasons why God withiiolds from some men the aids of grace, is, because they resist the aids they might derive from their frail na- ture. Here the theology of St. Paul, and the decision of that great preceptor in grace, im- poses silence on every difliculty of which this point may be susceptible. Speaking of the heathens in the first chapter of his epistle to the Romans, he says, "That which may be known of God is manifested in them;" or, as I would rather read, is manifest to them; " but because that when they knew God, they glo- rified him not as God, neither were thankful," Rom. i. 19 — 21. "That which may be known of God is manifested unto them;" here then is the aid pagans might draw from the ruins of nature; they might know that there was a God; they might have been thankful for his temporal gifts, for rain and fruitful seasons; and instead of the infamous idolatry to which they aban- don themselves, they might have seen the invi- sible things of God, which are manifest by his work. And because they did not derive those aids from the ruins of nature, they became wholly unworthy of divine assistance; " God gave them up to uncleanness through the lusts of their own hearts. — They changed the truth of God into a lie, and worshipped and served the creature more than the Creator, who is blessed for ever." Ser. XCVIII.] ON REGENERATION. 899 6. Our fifth proposition imports, that the aids of the Holy Spirit promised to man arc gra- dually imparted; lience, to misapply the grâce we have, is the most dangerous way to obstruct the reception of fresh support. But listen to some of our supralapsarians, and they will say, that the design of God in promising tlicse aids, is to assure us that how much soever we sliall resist one measure of grace, he will still give us a greater measure, and ever proportion the counterpoise of grace to tliat of a deliberate, obstinate, voluntary enemy. So many have understood the doctrine of our clmrch respect- ing irresistible grace; to judge of it consonant to their ideas, this grace redoubles its etlbrts as the sinner redoubles his revolts; so that lie who shall throw the greatest obstacles in its way, shall be the very man who shall have the fair- est claims to its richest profusion. Poor Christians! are these your conceptions of religion? My God! is it thus thy gospel is understood? I hope, my brethren, tliat not any one of us shall have cause to recognise himself in this portrait; for 1 am bold to aver, that of all the most heterodox opinions, and the most hostile to the genius of the gospel, the one 1 have just put into the mouth of cer- tain Christians, is that which really surpasses them all. On the contrary, he who opposes the greatest obstacles to the operations of grace, is precisely tiie man who must expect the smallest share of it. Grace diminishes its efforts in proportion as the sinner redoubles his resistance. Obstinate revolt against its first operations, is the sure way to be deprived of the second; and liie usual cause which deprives us of it, is the want of co-operation with its true design. 6. We are now come to the last proposi- tion, with which we shall close this discourse. However unworthy we may be of tiie divine assistance, and wliatever abuse we may have made of it, we should never despair of its aids. We do not say this to flatter tlie lukewarm- ness of man, and to soot!)e liis sliameful delay of conversion; on the contrary, if there be a doctrine which can prompt us to diligence; if there be a doctrine which can induce us to de- vote tiie whole time of our life to the work of salvation, it is the one we have just announced in this discourse, and made tlie subject of our two preceding sermons. We have considered three points in the conversation of Jesus Ciirist with Nicodemus; the nature, the necessity, and the .iutlior of the " new birth." And what is there in all this which does not tend to sap the delay of conversion? Let each of you recollect, as far as memory is able, what Jesus Christ has taught, and what we have tauglit after him, on the subject of regeneration. This work does not consist in a certain superficial chanire which may be made in a moment: in that case, it would suf- fice to have a skilful physician, and to com- mission him to warn us of the moment when we must leave the world, that we may devote that precise moment to the work of our salva- tion. But tlie regeneration whicli Jesus Ciirist requires, is an entire transformation; a cliange of ideas, a change of desires, a change of hopes, a change of taste, a change in the schemes of happiness. How then does the system of delaying conversion accord with this idea? What time would you allow for this chanfre and reformation? À month? a week? a day? the last extremity of a mortal malady? What! in so sliort a time would you consum- mate a work to which the longest life would hardly suffice? And in what circumstances would you do it! In delirium; in the agonies of death; at a time when one is incapable of the smallest application; at a time when we can scarce admit among the attendants, a friend, a child, whom we love as our own life; at a time when the smallest business appears as a world of difficulty? But if what we have now said, after this " teacher come from God," on the nature of regeneration, has begun to excite some scru- ples in j-our mind concerning the plan of de- laying conversion, let each of you recall, as far as he is able, what Jesus Christ has said, and what we have said, following him, con- cerning the necessity of regeneration: for since you are obliged to confess that regeneration cannot be tlie work of the last moments of life, I ask, on what ground you found the sys- tem of delaying converiion? Do you flatter yourselves tliat God will be so far satisfied with your superficial efforts towards regenera- tion, as to excuse the genuine change? Do you hope that this general declaration of the Saviour, " Verily, verily, I say unto you, ex- cept a man be born again, he cannot enter the kingdom of God," shall have an exception with regard to you? have then the reflections we made in our second discourse against this cliimerical notion, made no impression on you? Do we preacii to rational beings? or do we preach to stocks and stones? Have ye not perceived tiiat regeneration is founded on the genius of the gospel; and that every doctrine of it is comprised in tlie proposition, " Verily, verily, I say unto thee, except a man be born airain, he cannot see the kingdom of God." It is founded on the nature of man, and on the proposed design of Jesus Christ to make him happy; and the acquisition of this end would imply a contradiction, if a man should revolt at the change and the reformation; be- cause, since the loss of primitive innocence, our state is become our calamity; and it would imply a contradiction that we should be de- livered from our calamity, unless we should be delivered from our state. It is founded on the nature of God himself: of the two, God must either renounce his perfections, or we must renounce our imperfections; and if I may dare so to speak of my Maker, God must either regenerate himself, or we must regene- rate ourselves. . Upon what then do you found your hopes of conversion on a death-bed? Upon the aids of that grace without which you never can be converted? But does the manner in which we have just described those aids, afford you any hope of obtaining them, when you shall have obstinately and maliciously resisted them to the end? Meanwhile, I maintain my last proposition; I maintain that however unworthy you may have rendered yourselves of divine aid, you ought never to despair of obtaining it. Yes, though you should have resisted the Holy 400 THE NECESSITY OF REGENERATION. [Ser. xcvin. Ghost to the end of life; though you should have but one hour to live, devote it; call in your ministers; oHer up prayers, and take the kinffdoin of heaven by violence! We will not deprive you of this the only hope wijich can remain: we will not cxnludc you from the final avenues of grace. Perliaps your last etibrts may have etfect; perhaps your prayers shall be heard; perhaps the Holy Spirit will give effect to the exhortations of his ministers; and, to say all in a single word, perhaps God will work a miracle in your favour, and deviate from the rules he is accustomed to follow in the conversion of other men. Perhaps; ah! my brethren, how little con- solation does this word afford in the great events of life; and less consolation still when applied to our salvation! Perhaps; al<,! how little is that word capable of consoling a soul when it has to contend with death. My bre- thren, we can never consent to make your salvation depend on a perhaps; we cannot see that you would have any other hope of salva- tion than that of a man, vviio throws himself from a tower; a man actually descending in the air, that may be Saved by a miracle, but he has so many causes to fear the contrary. We cannot see that you would have any other ground of hope than tliat of a man who is under the axe of the executioner, whose arm is uplifted, which may indeed be held by a celestial hand; but how many reasons excite alarm that he will strike the fatal blow! We would wish to be able to say to each of you, " fear not," Mark v. 30. We would wisli that each of you could say to himself, " I know; I am persuaded;" 2 Tim. i. \1. Second our wishes: labour; pray; pray without ceas- ing; labour during the whole of life. This is the only means of producing that gracious as- surance and delightful persuasion. May God bless 3'our efforts, and hear our prayers. Amen. To whom be honour and glory for ever. Amen SERMON XCVIII. THE NECESSITY OF REGENERATION. PART III. [now first translated.] John iii. 5 — 7. Jesva answered, Verily, verily, I say unto thee, except a man be born of water, and of the Spirit, he canriot enter into the kingdom of God. That which is. born of the flesh is flesh, and that xohich is bom of the Spirit is spirit. Marvel not that I said unto thee, ye must be bom again. It is a sublime idea that the prophets give of the change which the preaching of the gos- pel should effectuate in the earth, when they represent it under the figure of a new crea- tion: " Bcliold 1 create new heavens, and a new eartli; and the former things shall not be remembered," Isa. Ixv. 17. These new hea- vens, and this new earth, my brethren, must have new inhabitants. It would imply an ab- surdity for God to unite the disorders of the old world with the felicities of the new crea- tion. " If any man be in Christ, he is a new creature; old things are past away, and behold all things are become new," 2 Cor. v. 17. This was the change which Jesus Christ an- nounced to Nicodemus, though the Rabbi could not comprehend it. How explicit soever the declarations of the prophets had been on this subject; however familiar their style wasainong the Jews, regeneration, to regenerate a new man, were terms whose im|)ort Nicodemus could not distinguish. He flattered himself that it sufficed for admission into the commu- nion of the Messiah, to acknowledge the au- thenticity of his mission, the sublimity of his doctrine, and the superiority of his miracles. " Rabbi, we know that thou art a teacher come from God, for no man can do those mira- cles that tliou dost, except God be with him." He hoped that this avowal would conciliate the esteem of Jesus Christ, while it equally preserved that of the Jews. He flattered him- self with having found the just mean of distinction between that of his persecutors, and his disciples. Jesus Christ undeceived him in the words upon which our discourse must devolve. No, no, said he; God requires no such conduct; to him all accommodations are odious; you must choose, either to perish with those who fight against me, or become reno- vated with those who account it their glory to fight under my stewards. " Verily, verily, I say unto thee, except a man be born again, he cannot see the kingdom of God. Marvel not that I said unto thee, Ye must be born again. Art thou a doctor of the law, and knoweat thou not tliese tilings?" We said sometime ago, that one must not confound the change which the gospel requires of a weak and diffident Christian, with tliat which it requires of a man who has not as yet embraced religion, as it would be wrong to say of some who hear us, and who, notwithstand- ing their weakness and diffidence, are really members of Christ, that they shall not enter the kingdom of God, unless they are born again. But can we doubt, that among the many who compose the circles of Ciiristian society, among the many who compose this congregation, there are many who are in the error of Nicodemus? Can we doubt that many of you also, like this doctor, still divide your- selves between God and the world; and who flatter themselves to have the essence of Chris- tianity, when they have but the exterior name. It is to men of this class, that we address our- selves in this discourse. We proceed conforma- bly to the example of our great Master to make an effort to open their eyes, and show them the inutility of this semi-Christianity to which their views are circumscribed; and de- clare, "verily, verily, except a man be born again, he cannot enter the kingdom of God." It is thus we shall continue the execution of the plan formed in our first discourse. We there remarked three things in the conversa- tion of Jesus Christ with Nicodemus: the na- ture of regeneration; the necessity of regenera- tion; and the .author of regeneration. The first of these articles we have already discuss- ed: we now proceed to the second; and relying on the aids of God already implored, and which we stiJl implore with all the powers Ser. XCVIII.] THE NECESSITY OF IlEGENERATiON. 401 of our souls, wo proceed to enforce the neces- sity of regeneration, wliose nature and charac- ters we have already described. Wo take it for granted, that this expression 80 familiar in our Scriptures, " the kingdom of God," or " the kingdom of heaven," can- not be wholly unknown to you. The Hebrews substitute heaven for God (and this mode of speaking is common enough in all languages;) hence come the expressions which abound in our writings, the aids of Heaven for tlio aids of God; and death inflicted by tiie hand of Heaven, for the hand of God. Juwt so, the kingdom of heaveu, and the kingdom of God, are two phrases j)romiscuously used in the New Testament. I forl)ear more te.\ts, which would only waste the time destined for truths more important and more controverted. Now, this expression, "the kingdom of God," can have but one of those two mean- ings, of the most common occurrence in our Scriptures. It may signify either the economy of the Messiah, which tho prophet Daniel re- presents under tho idea of a kingdom, or tho felicity of the blessed. The first is the import of our Saviour's words, Matthew the xiith; " If I had cast out devils by the Spirit of God, then the kingdom of God is come unto you." That is to say, if I have received of God the gift of miraculous powers; if I eject demons by the power of God, you may be fully assur- ed that tho Advent of the Messiah, which you have awaited with so much desire, is come unto you; it being impossible that God should lend his Almighty power to an impostor. This expression, " the kingdom of God," signifies also the state of the blessed. So it must be understood in the encomium which our Saviour pronounced on the great faith of a heathen centurion. " Verily, I say unto you, that many shall come from the east, and from the west, and shall sit down with Abraham, and Isaac, and Jacob, in the kingdom of hea- ven;" that is, many of those gentiles who were then " without God, and without hope in the world," shall be admitted with Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, to the celestial felicity, re- presented in our Scriptures by the idea of a feast. We think ourselves authorized to take this expression in the first of the meanings we here just assigned it: " Except a man be born of water and of the Spirit, he shall not enter the kingdom of God;" that is, to become a member of the church of Christ, he must be born again; but if any one will adhere to the latter sense, we feel no interest in disputing the point. Jesus Christ requires us to teach, that his comnmnion affords no mean of attain- ing eternal happiness, but that of regenera- tion. The distinction has nothing that should stop us: to have named it, is enough; perhaps too much. Let us come at once to tho essential point, and prove that this regeneration is absolutely necessary to become a Christian, or as I have said, to attain to celestial happiness. This wc shall prove by three arguments. I. The first is taken from the genius of the Christian religion. n. The second from the wants of man. III. Tho third from the perfections of God. I. From the genius of the Cluistian religion. Vol. II.— 51 All the principles of the Christian religion, are in direct opposition to the principles of the unregenerate. It is not possible to embrace the Christian religion, without being bom again in the sense we iiave given to this expression. What is the sense given to this figurative phrai