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A SERIES 
 
 OF 
 
 DISCOURSES, &c. 
 
I 
 
SERIES 
 
 OP 
 
 DISCOURSES, 
 
 PBINCIPLES OF RELIGIOUS BELIEF, 
 
 AS CONNECTED \VIT« 
 
 HUMAN HAPPINESS 
 
 AND 
 
 IMPROVEMENT. 
 
 BY 
 
 THE REV. R. MOREHEAD, A. M. 
 
 OF BALIOL COLLEGE, OXFORD, JUNIOR AIINISTER OF THE EPISCOPAL 
 CHAPEL, COWGATE, EDINBURGH. 
 
 PUBLISHED BY 
 
 WRADFORD 8c INSKEEP, PHILADELPHIA; INSKEEP & BR/VDFORD, 
 NEW YORK; WILLIAM M'lLHENNEY, JUN., BOSTON; COALE& 
 THOMAS, BALTIMORE; AND E. MORFORD, WILLINGTOX, 8c CO., 
 CHARLESTON. 
 
 PRINTED BY. T. <^ O. PALMER, PHILADELPHIA. 
 1810. 
 
debIcItion. , . f 
 
 THE HEVEREND A. ALISON, 
 
 LL. B. F. R. S. LOND. AND EUINf. 
 
 PREBENDARY OF SARUM, &c. &c. AND SENIOR MINISTKU Of THK^ 
 EPISCOPAL CHAPEL, COWGATE, EDlNJJURCill. 
 
 MY DEAR SIR, 
 
 I HAVE preached about philosophy a jul philo- 
 sophers, till I am tired of the very names ; and, 
 of course, my congregation must he still more tired 
 tha?i myself There are people, however, who 
 may derive some benefit from reading upon these 
 subjects, — ivhicJi are in fact better adapted for 
 the closet than the pulpit ; and a reader possesses 
 at least one advantage over a listener, — whenever 
 fie is wearied, he can take the liberty to silence his 
 instructor. 
 
 Ton were good-natured enough to give very 
 unmerited praise to several of these discourses 
 when they ivere preached ; but I do not mean to 
 impose upon the public, by saying, that you recoin- 
 mended me to print them. Indeed you carry your 
 dislike to the publication of sermons someivhat too 
 far, otherwise the world would long ago Jiavr 
 
VI DEDICATION. 
 
 been in possession of some, which probably unite 
 the utile and the dulce, more than any others 
 which were ever written. 
 
 Should I fail in my presefit attempt, it would yet 
 afford me some consolation, if you might thence be 
 induced to come forward in the great cause of ge- 
 nuine Christianity, and to dissetninate that instruc- 
 tion in morals and religion, which you have 
 already given with so much ability in criticism 
 and taste. Achilles was roused from his retreat 
 when Patroclus fell. 
 
 At all events, I am happy in this opportunity 
 of expressing, my dear sir, the high sense which 
 I entertain of your virtues and endowments, and 
 of subscribing myself, your faithful colleague, and 
 affectionate friend, 
 
 ROB. MOREHEAD. 
 
^ 
 
 I 
 
 
 PREFACE 
 
 It has been my design, in the following dis- 
 courses, to exhibit a view both of the evidences 
 and the effects of religious belief, somewhat 
 more simple and popular than has usually been 
 attempted ; and without fatiguing the reader 
 with controversy, or overwhelming him with 
 facts, to fix his attention upon those great prin- 
 ciples, both in the constitution of man, and in 
 the visible administration of Providence, that 
 seem to lead most directly to a sense of the 
 truth and the benefits of religion. 
 
 Much has been written, both recently and in 
 older times, upon this most important of all sub- 
 jects ; and the grounds of our faith have been 
 vindicated by many eminent divines and philo- 
 sophers, with a force of reasoning and an extent 
 of learning, to which nothing, it is probable, can 
 now be added or replied. These profound and 
 argumentative writers, however, are not always 
 intelligible, and are but rarely attractive, to the 
 
Vlll PREFACE. 
 
 multitude whom they would reclaim from error ; 
 and vainly multiply their proofs and refutations, 
 to an audience whom they have not engaged to 
 be attentive. 
 
 To me it has always appeared, that the great- 
 er part of those who are indifferent to the truths 
 of religion, have been left in this state rather 
 through an indolent misapprehension of its true 
 nature and general foundations, than from the 
 eifect of any positive error, or false creed of 
 philosophy. Controversy, or formal argument, 
 therefore, will have but little effect upon them ; 
 and their cure is to be effected, not by topical 
 applications of detailed proof, or special refuta- 
 tion, but by the general tonics of more enlight- 
 ened and comprehensive views, as to the nature 
 of man and of the universe, — arguments that 
 point out the connection and consonancy be- 
 tween religion and all that we know or feel of 
 existence, — and reflections which tend to culti- 
 vate those dispositions which lay the foundations 
 of religious belief, not only in our understand- 
 ing, but our affections. 
 
 It has sometimes appeared to me also, that 
 many of our orthodox writers have assumed too 
 severe and contemptuous a tone towards those 
 whom they laboured to convert ; and have em- 
 ployed a certain haughty sternness of manner. 
 
PREFACE. IX 
 
 which is not perhaps ahogether suitable to the 
 mildness of the gospel of peace, and which has 
 at any rate an obvious tendency to indispose 
 many from listening to their instructions. The 
 antagonists of religion, accordingly, have not 
 failed to take advantage of these errors ; and 
 have spared no pains to render their productions 
 smooth, easy, and agreeable. " Fas est et ab 
 hoste doceri ;^^ and there really seems to be no 
 reason why the children of this world should 
 always be wiser in their generation, than the 
 children of light ! 
 
 Such is the object of these discourses : of the 
 execution the public must judge. I have ven- 
 tured to give them the title of " a series ;" be- 
 cause, though they were written at different 
 times, and without any precise view to their 
 present arrangement, they seem to have such a 
 mutual coherence and dependency, as to be 
 read with advantage in the order in which they 
 now stand. At all events, it is hoped, they 
 will appear to possess at least that " uniformity 
 of thought and design which (to use the words 
 of the admirable Butler) will always be found 
 in the writings of the same person, when he 
 writes with simplicity, and in earnest." 
 
 R. M. 
 
 Edinburgh^ 17 th December^ 1808. 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 SERMON I, 
 
 On the Character of Religion, 
 
 1 Kings, xix. 12. 
 And after the fire, a still small voice - - Page 1 
 
 SERMON 11. 
 
 On the Character oj* Scripture, 
 
 St. John, v. 39. 
 Search the Scriptures - . - - 9 
 
 SERMON III. 
 
 0?t the Character of Wisdom, 
 
 Prov. xvii. 24. 
 Wisdom is before him that hath understanding, but the eyes of a fool 
 are in the ends of the earth - - - 17 
 
 SERMON IV. 
 
 On the Character of Faith. 
 
 St. John, xx. 29. 
 Jesus saith unto him, Thomas, because thou hast seen me, thou hast be- 
 lieved ; blessed are they that have not seen, and yet have believed 25 
 
 SERMON V. 
 
 On Natural Religion, 
 
 St. John, xiv. 8. 
 Philip saith unto him. Lord, show us the Father, and it sufficeth us 34i 
 
u CONTENTS. 
 
 SERMON VI. 
 On Revealed Religion, 
 
 St. John, xiv. 9. 
 Jesus saith unto him, Have I been so long time with you, and yet hast 
 thou not known me, Philip ? He that hath seen me hath seen the 
 Father; and how sayest thou, then, Show us the Father ? Page 42 
 
 SERMON VII. 
 
 The Nativity of Christ. 
 
 St. Matthew, ii. 11. 
 And when they were entered into the house, they saw the young child^ 
 with Mary his mother - - 51 
 
 SERMON VIII. 
 
 On Man as a Ratio?ial and Moral Being. 
 
 Job, xxxii. 8. 
 But there is a spirit in man, and the inspiration of the Almighty giveth 
 them understanding - - - . 60 
 
 SERMON IX. 
 
 On Man as a Religious Being. 
 
 Job, xxxii. 8. 
 But there is a spirit in man, and the inspiration of the Almighty giveth 
 them understanding - - - - 68 
 
 SERMON X. 
 
 Proofs of Immortality from Reason. 
 
 2 Tim. i. 10. 
 
 ,\nd hath brought life and immortality to light through the gosijel ITS 
 
 SERMON XI. 
 
 Proofs of Immortality from Revelation. 
 
 2 Tim. i. 10. 
 And hatli brought life and immortality to light through the gospel S6 
 
 SERMON XII. 
 
 On the Resurrection of the Dead, 
 
 Ez K.KIEL, xxxvii. 3. 
 And he said unto me, Son of man, can these bone«i live ? And I answer- 
 ed, O Lord God, thoa knowest • - 95 
 
CONTENTS. xiu 
 
 SERMON XIII. 
 
 The Temporal Advantages of Christiantty, 
 Ephesians, iv. 8. 
 Wherefore he saith, when he ascended up into high, he led captivity 
 captive, and gave gifts unto men - - Page 103 
 
 4 
 
 SERMON XIV. 
 
 The Superior Importance of Moral Duties* 
 St. Matthkw, ix. 13. 
 But go ye, and learn v?hat that meaneth; I will have mercy, and not 
 sacrifice ... Ill 
 
 SERMON XV. 
 
 Connection of Morality and Religion, 
 
 Hebrkws, X. 38. 
 Now the just shall live by faith - - 119 
 
 SERMON XVI. 
 The same Subject Illustrated by the Character of the 
 Good Centurion. 
 St. Matthew, viii. 8. 
 The centurion answered and said, Lord, I am not worthy that thou 
 shouldst come under my roof ; but speak the word only, and my ser- 
 vant shall be healed - - > 126 
 
 SERMON XVII. 
 
 On Christian Charity, as it Influences our Judgments of 
 each other, 
 St. Matthew, vii, 1. 
 Judge not, that ye be not judged - - 135 
 
 SERMON XVIII. 
 On Christian Charity, as it Influences Conduct, 
 
 St. John, xiii. 34. 
 A new commandment I give unto you, that ye love one another 144 
 
xiv CONTENTS. 
 
 SERMON XIX. 
 On the Lessons to be learned from the Afflictions of 
 
 Life. 
 
 ECCLESIASTES, vii. 2. 
 
 It is better to go to the house of mourning than to the house of feasting j 
 for that is the end of all men, and the livings-will lay it ^ his heart 
 
 Page 150 
 SERMON XX. 
 
 On Religious Consolation in Affliction^ exetnplified in the 
 Case of the Death of Children, 
 
 St. Matthew, ii. 18. 
 In Rama was there a voice heard, lamentation, and weeping, and great 
 mourning ; Rachel weeping for her children, and would not be com- 
 forted, because they are not - - 159 
 
 SERMON XXI. 
 
 On Religious Education. 
 
 Pruv. xxii. 6. 
 Train up a child in the way he should go, and when he is old he will 
 not depart from it - - - 167 
 
 SERMON XXII. 
 
 On Religious Education, 
 
 St. John, xiv. 15. 
 
 if ye love me, keep my commandments - 178 
 
 SERMON XXIII. 
 
 On Religious Rites, 
 
 1 Cor. xi. 26. 
 For as oft as ye eat this bread, and drink this cup, ye do show the 
 Lord's death till he come . _ - 187 
 
 V 
 SERMON XXIV, 
 
 On Religious kites, 
 
 Isaiah, vi. 7. 
 And he laid it upon my mouth, and said, Lo, this hath touched thy lips, 
 and thine iniquity is taken away, and thy sin purged 197 
 
CONTENTS. XV 
 
 SERMON XXV. 
 On Public Worship, 
 
 Psalm c. 3. 
 Enter into his gates with thanksgiving, and into his courts with praise : 
 be thankful unto him, and bless his name • Page 204 
 
 ♦ SERMON XXVI. 
 
 On Youthful Piety, 
 
 ECCLKSIASTES, xii. 1. 
 
 Remember now thy Creator in the days of thy youth ; while the evil 
 days come not, nor the years draw nigh, when thou shall say, I have 
 no pleasure in them - - - 211 
 
 SERMON XXVII. 
 
 On Redeeming Time, 
 
 Ephesians, v. 16. 
 
 Redeeming the time, because the days are evil - 219 
 
 SERMON XXVIII. 
 Religious Meditations, 
 
 Rev. i. 8. 
 I am the beginning and the ending, saith the Lord, which is, and which 
 was, and which is to come, the Almighty - 228 
 

 
 SERMON I. 
 
 Ox\ THE CHARACTER OF RELIGION. 
 
 1 KINGS, xix. 12. 
 ** And after thejire, a still small voice. ^^ 
 
 J. NEED scarcely remind you, my brethren, that these 
 are the concluding words of tiuit very sublime passage 
 in which the Divine Presence is represented as being 
 made known to the prophet Elijah. " Go forth, and 
 stand upon the rnount before the Lord. And behold the 
 Lord passed by, and a great and strong wind rent the 
 mountains^ and brake in pieces the rocks before the Lord; 
 but the Lord was not in the wind: and after the wind^ 
 an earthquake ; but the Lord xvas not in the earthquake: 
 and after the earthquake afire; but the Lord was not 
 in the fire: and after the fire, a still small voice. And 
 it was so, when Elijah heard it, that he wrapped his face 
 in his mantle, and went out, and stood in the entering in 
 of the cave.'*^ 
 
 A passiige of this kind is, in itself, an evidence of the 
 inspiration of Scripture. All the circumstances of the 
 description are in a style of thought superior to the 
 course of human ideas, and appear to be the result of 
 those lofty conceptions of the divine nature which can 
 be communicated only by the Spirit of God. The 
 
 A 
 
2 The Character of Religion. 
 
 most terrific images from the natural world are first in- 
 troduced; but they are introduced merely for the sake 
 of contrast, and to heighten the mysterious solemnity 
 of the circumstance which follows. The prophet, we 
 may suppose, witnessed the great and strong wind, the 
 earthquake, and the fire, with emotions suited to the 
 contemplation of those tremendous ministers of ruin: 
 yet these were but natural agents, parts of the consti- 
 tuted order of things; the servants, not the Lord. It 
 was not till the " still small voice'''' signified the presence 
 of another Being, — of a Being distinct from nature, and 
 speaking with the composure of irresistible power, 
 amidst all the confusion and havoc of the elements, that 
 Elijah is described as having felt the peculiar emotion 
 of religious awe, — that he " wrapped his face in his man- 
 tle, and went out, and stood in the entering in of the 
 
 But to dilate upon these circumstances would tend 
 rather to weaken than increase their effect. It will be a 
 more useful employment to notice some views of reli- 
 gion which, by an easy interpretation, may appear to be 
 silently pointed at in this remarkable passage. To look 
 for hidden meanings in the Sacred Writings is, indeed, 
 in most instances, both idle and injudicious. The 
 imagination, in such inquiries, has so wide a field, and 
 may so readily be betrayed into delusive views, that we 
 ought to be very cautious lest we fasten upon the sim- 
 plicity of Scripture the wandering reveries of an enthu- 
 siastic mind. Yet, in some passages, more may be 
 meant than meets the ear. A still small voice may 
 xvhisper from them great and important truths. 
 
The Character of Religion. 3 
 
 The description before us appears to me to contain a 
 beautiful intimation of the character of true relij^ion, as 
 opposed to superstition on the one hand, and infidelity 
 on the other. In the first of these aspects we may sup- 
 pose it particularly addressed to the Jews, who, notwith- 
 standing all the instructions of Moses and the prophets, 
 were unaccountably prone to the lowest and most con- 
 temptible superstitions. In the time of Elijan, in par- 
 ticular, there was a very general apostacy from the true 
 religion; the altars of God were deserted for those of 
 Baal. *' I have been very Jealous,'''' says he, " for the 
 Lord God of Hosts: for the children of Israel have for- 
 saken thy covenant, thrown down thine altars, and slain 
 thy Prophets with the sword, and I, even I only am left.^^ 
 
 Now, the rise of idolatry and superstition may very 
 naturally be traced to that disposition, so deeply rooied 
 in unenlightened minds, of supposing every part of 
 nature to be endowed with sentiment and passion; and, 
 as the unity and connection which run through the 
 whole scheme are not so apparent as to draw the atten- 
 tion of a barbarian, he will commonly be induced to 
 regard every detached appearance as the indication of a 
 separate being, which, according to the character of his 
 own mind, he will invest with gloomy or with cheerful 
 attril)utes. It is likewise a feature in human nature to 
 be inattentive to what is common, however great and 
 stupendous it may be in reality, and to bestow admiration 
 only on what is new and surprising. I'he feeling of 
 dread and apprehension too, excited by unexpected 
 exertions of terrible power, operates on the muid of 
 uninstructed man far more powerfully than that of grati- 
 tude for familiar and accustomed bounty ; and he is 
 
4 The Character of Tieligion, 
 
 more disposed to tremble before the desitructive energies 
 of nature, than to confide in the harmony and mildness 
 of its ordinary administration. 
 
 Fiom these observations, however briefly stated, a 
 reflecting mind will easily be enabled to discover in 
 what manner a plurality of gods is so common a tenet 
 in the superstition of barbarous nations ; why the Deity- 
 is rather supposed to be traced in the irregular convul- 
 sions of nature than in its steady uniformity ; and in 
 what way the mind is more inclined to fix on the 
 gloomy and horrible, than on the amiable and conciliat- 
 ing vitws of religion. The force of these remarks 
 cannot be more comprehensively expressed than in the 
 imagery of the passage we are considering. The mind 
 ol uiiiutored man looks for its gods in the great and 
 strong wind, in the earthquake, and in the fire ; while 
 it is deaf to the still small voice which speaks from all 
 the corners of creation. The lesson conveyed to the 
 li:\\ s in this description was therefore of the most 
 striking kind. God, they were told, was not in the 
 wind, in the earthquake, or in the fire. These convul- 
 sions of nature, however stupendous, were not to be 
 regarded as manifestations of Deity ; still less, therefore, 
 could they conceive him included in any limited bodily 
 form. Traces of him they might find everywhere ; 
 but he himself was nowhere to be seen. '' Behold^"^* 
 says Job, " I go forward^ but he is not there; and back- 
 ward, but I cannot perceive him : on the left hand 
 where he doth work but I cannot behold him : he hideth 
 himself on the right hand, tlmt I cannot see him. " — They 
 wtrt, in fcict, tod, that it is superstition alone which 
 seeks to embody the Deity, and to fix him in any 
 
The Character of 'Religion. 5 
 
 particular department of his works, or supposes that he 
 is chicfl\ to be found in the midst of noise and fury and 
 desolation ; and that it is true relii>ion and philosophy 
 which traces through all the mechanism of nature, and 
 in all the course of events, silent marks of the Divine 
 hand; which, without pretending to find himself, bends 
 before the footsteps of Deity, and listens with sacred 
 composure to the still small voice that speaks from the 
 harmony and order of the universe. 
 
 So far, then, the description before us may be sup- 
 posed to reprove idolatry and every form of superstition, 
 and, in this light, to have been admirably calculated for 
 the instruction of that people to whom it was originally 
 addressed. But it may convey a wider lesson, and one 
 more adapted to a philosophical and inquisitive age, Men 
 are not now much disposed to see God in the w ind, in the 
 earthquake, or in the fire. The bent of the present times 
 is not to superstition. Inquiries are made, and made 
 with admirable success, into the natural causes of things; 
 and many appearances which, to the mind of a savage, 
 might seem completely miraculous, are discovered to 
 follow from the common laws of nature. The proper 
 tendency of such inquiries is to throw light upon the 
 plan of the universe; to discover, the farther thev are 
 conducted, more traces of wisdom and benevolence in 
 nature, and to confirm the proofs of religion. But on 
 some minds they have a different elFect ; and, resting in 
 second causes, some men seem to overlook the existence 
 of the Supreme Cause of all. Not finding him in the 
 wind, in the earthquake, or in the fire, such inquirers 
 are someiimes led to conclude, that God is not anywhere 
 to be discovered in nature ; and thus philosophers have 
 
6 The Character of Religion. 
 
 not unfrequently run into almost the same delusion with 
 that which misleads the meanest and least instructed 
 barbarian. 
 
 The errors of both proceed on the same gross and vul- 
 gar conceptions of religion ; on the supposition that 
 God, if anywhere, is, in a manner, to be seen or touch- 
 ed. The only difference is, that the savage fancies he 
 sees him, while the atheist is blind. In opposition to 
 both these delusions, the words of the text point out 
 beautifully the nature of the proofs for religion. " Af- 
 ter the fire, a still small voice.'''' The general sentiment 
 is, thyt God does not obtrude himself on our notice. 
 " No man has seen God at any time.'''* Even the proofs 
 for his existence and attributes, however irresistible 
 when attended to, are not of such a nature as to force 
 themselves on the careless and unthinking. There is a 
 voice, indeed, and a voice which may at all times be 
 heard. " Day unto day utter eth speech^ and night unto 
 night showeth knowledge: there is no speech nor language 
 where their voice is not heard.'''' Yet it is " a still small 
 voice.''^ In fact, too, though this has not been suffici- 
 ently noticed, it is always heard, but men do not always 
 attend to its import. There is not a man in existence 
 who does not constantly perceive, and invariably act up- 
 on the supposition that nature is an established system 
 or plan ; but few men consider as they ought, and some 
 appear to forget entirely, that a plan, by the very force of 
 the term, implies an author or designer. The very re- 
 gularity of nature, the very constancy of its laws, makes 
 us lose sight of Him who ordered and disposed it. The 
 voice is so unvarying in its sound, that it scarcely affects 
 the ear. 
 
The Character of Religion. 7 
 
 The lesson, then, my brethren, which we ought to 
 receive from this fact is, that the proofs of religion are not 
 hastily and presumptuously to be judged of. Wherever 
 the voice seems to sound, wherever to the ear of reason 
 and reflection a hint on this important subject is convey. 
 ed, let man listen with reverence, and be ready to re- 
 ceive instruction. Let him not vainly suppose that the 
 voice has ceased to sound because he has ceased to hear 
 it; that the language of nature does not convey the same 
 import, although he has forgot the interpretation. 
 
 So much it may be suificient to have said on religion 
 in a speculative view ; but mere speculative views of 
 religion are of no importance unless they lead to prac- 
 tice. Religion, as it influences practice, has the same 
 general character which we have attempted to explain : 
 here, too, it is " a still small voice.'*'' It must contend 
 with the internal convulsions in the mind of man, the 
 fury of his passions, his worldly principles, and in- 
 numerable corruptions. It must oppose the seduction 
 of present objects, and point to the riches of futurity. 
 No wonder, then, my brethren, that it is so often either 
 not heard at all, or heard only to be stifled and over- 
 powered. Yet, whether we hear it or no, it still 
 speaks, and will make itself be heard at one time or 
 another. It will be heard in adversity or in death, if it 
 is unattended to in the hours of prosperity, and in the 
 gay presumption of life. Or even if we should suc- 
 ceed in drowning its voice entirely in this world, it will 
 be heard to speak terrible things in the world which is 
 to come. 
 
 How important, then, is the endeavour to listen now 
 to its gentle but solemn call ; that call which invites us 
 
8 The Character of Religion, 
 
 to tread the paths of peace and wisdom, which seeks to 
 win our souls from those vanities by which they are 
 misled, and points to honour and immortality as their 
 true pursuit and their glorious reward ! To those who 
 hear the call and obey it, it will prove a constant source 
 of comfort. Although adversity may assail, and friends 
 forsake them, yet the voice which they cheerfully fol- 
 low will speak peace and consolation to their hearts. 
 As they advance in life, and see more of the plan of 
 Providence, its sounds will continually become clearer 
 and more distinct ; on the bed of death they will swell 
 into a note of triumph ; and, finally, in better worlds 
 will be heard to utter those welcome words : " JVell 
 doney good and^ Jaithjul servant^ thou hast been faithful 
 over a few things I will make thee ruler over many 
 things: enter thou into the joy of thy Lord," 
 
SERMON II. 
 
 ON THE CHARACTER OF SCRIPTURE 
 
 ST. JOHN, V. 29. 
 
 " Search the Scriptures,'*^ 
 
 " THE heavens^'*'* says the psalmist, " declare 
 the glory of God^ and the firmament shoxveth his handy ^ 
 work.'*'* This is the universal revelation which " is 
 gone out through all the earth., and to the e?id of the 
 •world."*^ To us who, from our earliest years, have been 
 taught to observe those manifestations of Deity, they 
 seem to be so simple, so beautiful, and so conclusive, 
 that we are sometimes disposed to undervalue every 
 other source of religious instruction. When we reflect, 
 however, my brethren, it cannot but occur to us, that 
 those traces of the divine hand, which to us appear so 
 distinct, are beheld without any emotion by the greatest 
 portion of the human race ; that the sun rises upon 
 many regions without reminding the unthinking inha- 
 bitants of that eternal fountain of light from whence he 
 sprung; and that the savage may say of the book of 
 nature, as he has said of the book of revelation, that- 
 '* it speaks not to him." Nor can we ascribe it to 
 the progress of reason and philosophy alone that the 
 simple truths of natural religion arc so clearly discerned 
 
10 The Character of Scripture. 
 
 by our eyes ; for there have been ages before us, dis- 
 tinguished for the highest mental superiority ; ages to 
 which we still look back with reverence approaching to 
 adoration, that yet, in point of religious knowledge or 
 sentiment, were scarcely at all advanced beyond the 
 miserable ignorance and superstition of barbarians. 
 
 Without denying the influence of other causes, it is 
 therefore b}^ no means hardy in us to affirm, that the per- 
 fection of natural religion is greatly to be imputed to the 
 piogress of revelation ; and that the truths taught in the 
 book of the Scriptures have at least tended to open the 
 eyes of nit i' to those sublime lessf)ns which nature her- 
 self may convey to them. This indeed would be 
 going but a little way, and it would be betraying our 
 tiusi tL. siv that these sacred oracles contain onlj" 
 a n ( le perfect species of deism. The truths which 
 they peculiarly teach are those which our Saviour re- 
 fers to in the words immediately following the text : 
 '■''Search the scriptures (says ht),Jbrin them ye think ye 
 have eternal life ^ and they are they which testify of me.'''' 
 
 11 IS through iliem that man becomes weil instructed in 
 the doctrines of immortality and salvation, that he learns 
 his superiority to the fleeting things of the world, and 
 perceives the relation in which he stands to that great, 
 person who undertook and accomplished the work of his 
 redemption. My present intention, however, is not to 
 enter into any particular consideration of those great doc- 
 trines revealed to us in scripture, and which are only to 
 be found there : 1 propose, from the words of the text, 
 to draw your attention rather to a more general series of 
 reflections, founded on the beautiful truth conveyed to 
 us in the assertion that there are scriptures open to our 
 
The Character of Scripture, 11 
 
 search, and that the Author of our heini);h'is, in a pecu- 
 liar manner, deigned to hold communion with man. 
 
 In entering upon this point, allow me first to suggjcst 
 to you, that human nature has always seemed to re(|uire 
 some communication of this kind. However beautiful 
 the instances^ of divine goodness and providence display- 
 ed in the works of creation, yet they are not quite adapt. 
 ed to satisfy our hearts. Although he is near, and round 
 about us, yet the Author of our b ing seems somehow 
 to be remote from us : we enjoy, indeed, the fruits of 
 his bounty ; we even seem to hold a conspicuous place 
 among his works. Yet nature is so vast a system ; every 
 thing around us is so prodigious and great, that the no- 
 tion of our insignificance cannot but overwhelm us, and 
 we seek for some more touching assurances than the 
 *' still small voice'''' of nature conveys to our ear, that we 
 are not overlooked and forgotten in the immensity of 
 creation. 
 
 It is this feeling, my brethren, which probably has 
 operated as one cause to give birh to all that mon- 
 strous assemblage of superstitions which degr^idtd the 
 ancient world, and which now appear to us so extra- 
 ordinary and unaccountable. Amidst all the foil} and 
 abomination which may attach to them, they yt-t occur 
 to us, in this view, as a very interesting picture in tlie 
 history of our species. The) were the atten.pts, — the 
 vain, the erring, the disappointed, but the earnest and 
 persevering attempts, — of the creature to approach its 
 Creator ; of a being who felt the sublimity of his nature, 
 however clouded and obscured, to advance to the source 
 from which he sprung ; and who, amidst the disasters 
 and melanciioly of human liie, sougiit consolation from a 
 
12 The Character of Scripture, 
 
 more direct intercourse with the great Universal Spirit, 
 the Father of his existence. 
 
 It is sometimes the fashion with philosophical inquir- 
 ers to ridicule, in the superiority of their own knowledge 
 and reason, the simplicity of the savage who " sees 
 God in clouds, and hears him in the wind :" but per- 
 haps they would find upon consideration, that however 
 he may err in the course which he pursues, yet the sen- 
 timent which guides him is congenial to the heart of 
 man; and if these inquirers have lost it amidst the pride 
 of system and reasoning, they are only perhaps more 
 liable than he to the charge of error and delusion. 
 
 This sentiment, then, being natural to man, let us, 
 in the second place, consider how beautifully it is met 
 in the volume of the Scriptures. However unexpected 
 many things in that oook may be, however little they 
 may suit the taste of a refined age, yet this must be al- 
 lowed to them, that in every page they meet this senti- 
 ment of our nature. They meet it in all its forms, and 
 they are only perhaps the more truly divine, inasmuch 
 as they meet it with a peculiar condescension, suited to 
 all the varying circumstances of the human race. In 
 the language of St. Paul, " they are made all things to 
 allmen^ that they may by all means save some. '*'* In the 
 early parts of the sacred records in particular, we find 
 many narratives which to us appear rude, and adapted 
 only to the conceptions of a barbarous age. The Deity 
 seems to condescend to the wishes of his creatures in 
 a manner that may appear to contradict the lofty and 
 exalted views which we are now taught to form of his 
 nature. Yet, my brethren, in all such scenes, the 
 thing which must strike us most is the fact of the 
 
The Character of Scripture. 13 
 
 divine condescension ; and in the simple narrative of 
 angels sitting down at the table of a patrrarch, or con- 
 ducting by the hand, from the impending ruin of a guilty 
 city, the tottering steps of age and of female irresolu- 
 tion ; or of God foretelling in dreams the fortunes of in- 
 dividuals and of nations ; we ever distinguish the same 
 invariable characters of his watchful and " most visible 
 providence." Even when we read of that perplexed 
 and laborious law which \vas only the shadow of good 
 things to come, which was imposed upon the stiff necks 
 of a rebellious people, and which confined, under the 
 trammels of authority, men, who were incapable of 
 judging right ; when we go on to contemplate the light 
 which was occasionally imparted during the progress of 
 this dark and mysterious dispensation to the glowing 
 minds of holy prophets ; and, fi »ally, when we behold 
 the arrival of Him who sealed up the law and the pro- 
 phecy, who proclaimed the salvation of God to all man- 
 kind, and who confirmed his doctrines by his blood ; 
 however, in all these passages, many things strange and 
 imlooked for may occur, yet one thing is most remark- 
 able, which runs through them all, and which the heart 
 of man is most anxious to find, the assiduous care and 
 attention bestowed upon the interests of the human race 
 by that almighty and incomprehensible Being " who 
 inhahiteth eternity. ' ' 
 
 Here then, my brethren, we find the natural wishes of 
 the human soul met in all their extent, and in a manner 
 greatly beyond expectation ; we find the Sovereign of 
 Nature descending from his inaccessible throne, and 
 conversing with man as a friend; we find him commiind- 
 ing, encouraging, entreating, and using every possible 
 
14 The Character of Scripturt. 
 
 means to bring his sheep into his fold, and to raise the 
 eyes of men to that better kingdom " wherein dzvelletk 
 righteousness.'''* It is no longer the silent and invisible 
 Governor of the Universe, inshrined in his own majesty, 
 whom we contemplate at a distance; it is one who 
 sympathizes with all the ''vishes of the beings whom he 
 has formed, and who, in his last and most remarkable 
 manifestation of himself, when he " spoke to iis by his 
 Son,^"* — " the brightness of his glory, and the express 
 image of his person,'''' formed a union with (is people 
 so close and condescending, that the Creator seemed for 
 a time to be lost in the creature. 
 
 It is thus that, in a manner inconceivably beautiful, 
 the revealed word of God has supplied every thing tliat 
 was defective in the voice of nature ; and this, if no other 
 consideration were to be added, would be a sufficient 
 call upon us to search and study it with thankfulness 
 and diligence. In pursuing the same train of thought, 
 however, let me, in the third place, suggest to you the 
 great accession of happiness and of virtue which these 
 sacred writings have been the means of introducing 
 among the human race : happiness which is to be found 
 where men least look for it, and virtue where it has least 
 outward encouragement — in the bosoms of those who 
 are unknown to the world, and who are often in the 
 lowest and apparently the most unfortunate circum- 
 stances. " Not many wise men after the flesh (says 
 the apostle), not many mighty, not many noble are call- 
 (•</." Those whom the world regaids with admiration 
 and envy, as the favourites of fortune, and the great mo- 
 nopolizers of the hippiness of their species; how often, 
 alas ! do they miss that true joy which is found and re- 
 
The Character of Scripture. IS 
 
 lished by those who are commonly regarded as the vic- 
 tims of wretchedness I The humble widow, whose 
 nighdy pillow is moistened with her tears ; the poor man 
 in his unnoticed cottage ; the sinner whose conscience 
 is wounded with repentance ; the miserable of every 
 description whose hearts are not harden- d and debused, 
 find in the consolations of the Spirit of God that com- 
 fort and well-grounded hope, which the pride of learn- 
 ing or abilities, or wealth, or power, so often seeks for 
 in vain ! While nov/, as in all former ages, some are 
 plying the beaten road of crime and conquest, flaming 
 for a time the passing meteors of their age, hov/ many 
 in the retired vale of unregarded privacy are deriving 
 from the volume of salvation those principles of true 
 ambition which Vvill enable them at last to " shine as 
 the brightness of the firmament^ and as the stars for ever 
 and ever /" 
 
 There is something inexpressibly striking in the re- 
 flection, that the great Sovereign of the Universe, that 
 mysterious Being whom philosophy has so often search- 
 ed after in vain, deigns, in the pages of inspiration, to 
 converse with the lowest and humblest of his creatures; 
 that those who are ignorant of every thing else, may yet 
 here be instructed by him who knoweth all things, in 
 those points which it is chiefly material for them to 
 know; that " f o the poor the gospel is preached ;''^ and 
 that the " High and Holy One xvho inhahiteth eternitijy 
 here condescends to dwell xvith him also that is of a con- 
 trite and humble spirit.''^ 
 
 These reflections, my brethren, will, I trust,- be 
 thought not entirely unworthy of your attention, and 
 tiiey will perJiaps hiive some tendency to awaken a greater 
 
16 The Character of Scripture* 
 
 regard to the instructions contained in the sacred writ^ 
 ings than it is usual with many to bestow upon them. 
 Every thing, indi e(l^«may be overdone ; and the religi- 
 ous views of iuen, if confined to any one direction, may 
 lead into a narrow manner of thinking, and into confined 
 and illiberal sentiments. Scripture, like every thing else, 
 is liable to very extraordinary interpretations ; and when 
 men enter upon the study of it with a disposition to 
 search into mysteries, or with a prepossession for any 
 peculiar set of tenets, and a desire to establish these in 
 preference to every other, they no doubt may run into 
 the most extravagant imaginations, and find, in the words 
 of God himself, something like a colour for all the per- 
 versions and follies of their own disordered minds. 
 The disposition for receiving most advantage from the 
 scriptures is that which I have attempted to show. Scrip- 
 ture was designed to meet the humble but earnest wish 
 natural to the human heart, to become acquainted with 
 God, to receive instruction from him, to be comforted 
 with the consolations of his spirit, and with the hopes of 
 immortality. 
 
 To these leading points all doctrines and peculiar 
 tenets of faith are subservient ; and those are probably 
 the best suited to every particular person, which the most 
 readily conduct his mind to the knowledge of these sub- 
 lime truths. " All scripture (says St. I^aul) is given by 
 inspiration of God ^ and is profitable for doctrine, for re- 
 proof for correction^ for instruction in righteousness^ that 
 the man of God may be perfect, thoroughly furnished 
 unto all good works ;'* " but (as he says in another place) 
 avoid foolish questions, and gejiealogies and co7itentions, 
 and strivings about the lanVyfor they are unprofitable and 
 
SERMON III. 
 
 ON THE CHARACTER OF WISDOM 
 
 PROV. xvii. 24. 
 
 "' H^isdom is before him that hath understanding, but the 
 eyes of a fool are in the ends of the earth.''^ 
 
 IT is the object of the writings of Solomon 
 to point out the superiority of wisdom to every other 
 human acquisition. " JFisdom (says he) is the principal 
 thing; therefore get wisdom, and, with all thy getting^ 
 get understanding.'*'' Not that he ever undervalues the 
 common objects of human pursuit, such as riches, 
 power, or pleasure: his only aim is to enforce a lesson 
 which long experience had taught him, — that to a man 
 who is unwise these advantages are really of very small 
 importance, and that a wise man can at all times recon- 
 cile himself to the want of them. 
 
 Two questions, however, here present themselves : 
 What is wisdom, and in what manner may it be at- 
 tained ? To the first of these inquiries, the ansu er 
 of Solomon is in these words : " The fear of the 
 Lord is the beginning of rvisdom; and the know- 
 ledge of the holy is understanding.'''' Or, in other 
 words, man is then wise, and then only, when, with a 
 
 c 
 
18 The Character of Wisdom. 
 
 sense of the obligation he is under to do so, he endeg- 
 voiirs to discover, and to carry into effect, the design 
 of God in his creation. 
 
 But it may be asked, no doubt, how is this disco- 
 very to be made ? What is clear amidst the contradic- 
 tions of human reason ? What distinct rules even of 
 morality are to be found amidst the varying customs 
 and opinions of men ? When we leave our own narrow 
 circle, and look into " the ends of the earthy'*'* where 
 shall we find nations agree in their views, even in the 
 duties of social life ? But if we proceed further, and 
 examine the opinions of men on religious subjects, 
 into how wide a field of contradiction and extravagance 
 do we run ! Where, then, are truth or wisdom to be 
 found ? 
 
 To this class of inquiries, the answer of the wise 
 man is contained in the text. " Wisdom is before him 
 that hath understanding; hut the eyes of a fool are in 
 the ends ofjhe earth.'''* As if he had said : " Give a 
 cautious heed to the feelings of your conscience, and to 
 the opinions of the wise, and the upright among whom 
 you live, and you will seldom go far wrong in your 
 views of duty and morality. Bestow in like manner a 
 prudent attention on that form of religious faith in 
 which } ou have been brought up ; and if in the course 
 of your life you may happen to attain more liberal and 
 enlightened opinions than you received from your first 
 instructors, yet be persuaded that, in the main, these 
 are the instructions which have conveyed to you some 
 of the most important truths which in this world you 
 can ever learn." " My son^ hear the instruction of 
 thy father^ and forsake not the laxv of thy mother^ for 
 
The Character of Wisdom. 1 9 
 
 they shall he aji ornament of grace unto thy lieacU and 
 chains about thy neck.'*'' If you have liad understand- 
 ing, moral and religious wisdom have at all times been 
 before you, and within your reach ; it is merely folly, 
 though you may sometimes have thought it the mark of 
 an unprejudiced and philosophical mind, to send your 
 eyes in search of them to the " ends of the earth.'''' 
 
 Such, my brethren, is the simple and unassuming 
 wisdom delivered in the instructions of this wise kin<r ! 
 How different in its character from much of what is 
 called wisdom in the present age, from the course 
 v^hich philosophy has too frequently pursued, and how 
 different in its effects IVom that misery and loss of all 
 steady principle into which the wretched votaries of 
 modern infidelity have been too often betrayed ! There 
 are two positions which the text leads me to illustrate : 
 the first is, that every thing which it is most important 
 for us to know, either in morals or religion, lies before 
 us, and may be attained without any deep inquiry : the 
 second is, that when more profound or extensive inqui- 
 ries upon such subjects are resorted to by the wise, it 
 is never with the view of opposing, but of adding far- 
 ther confirmation to those great and fundamental truths. 
 The illustration of tlicse positions will, I trust, be of 
 some advantage to those of the younger part of our 
 congregation, who may at this time-^' be employed in 
 an examination of the evidences of religion, whether 
 natural or revealed. 
 
 In the first place, then, let those Mho are entering 
 upon such inquiries consider, that, from the nature 
 
 ' The season of Advcm. 
 
20 The Character of Wisdom, 
 
 of the thing, they are not necessarily very deep or pro- 
 found. Morals and religion are the business, and con- 
 stitute the wisdom of all mankind ; of the unlearned as 
 well as the learned, of the peasant as well as the philo- 
 soi)her. But what it is the business of all men to know, 
 no man can know well, unless it is made in some degree 
 apparent to his reason ; and before the principles of 
 morality or of religion can be of material service to any 
 human being, his reason must to a certain extent be 
 convinced of their truth. 
 
 It is the fashion with freethinkers to suppose, that the 
 religious opinions of the lower orders are merely pre- 
 judice and superstition ; that their imaginations are 
 merely affected, but that their reason remains uncon- 
 vinced ; and they accordingly often talk of these plain 
 simple people in a strain of ridicule and contempt which 
 is much more applicable to themselves. The fact, how- 
 ever, undoubtedly is, that although in the religion of an 
 uneducated man, there is commonly some mixture of 
 superstition, yet in as far as it serves him for a rule of 
 wise and upright conduct here, and ajfifords him well- 
 founded hopes of happiness hereafter, it is in the highest 
 degree reasonable ; and it is the pride and glory of 
 religion, that in the lowest circumstances of human for- 
 tune, it has trained up men to act a wise, a worthy, and 
 a noble part, compared with which no lessons of human 
 philosophy have effected any thing similar or compara- 
 ble, even while they were assisted by all the advantages 
 of knowledge and education. Now, what I mean to 
 assert is, that principles which lie level to men of very 
 imperfect education, may be found without any deep 
 inquiry, and when they are overlooked, as they unfor- 
 
The Character of Wisdom. 21 
 
 tunately have been by many ingeniou.-. men, it is rather 
 from their simplicity and plainness than from their ab- 
 struseness and difficulty. It is too often the miserable 
 weakness of men of genius, that they will not accept of 
 die v\isdom which is before them, but, rather than be 
 satisfied with so cheap a purchase, will permit their 
 eyes to travel with those of the fool in the text, into 
 " the ends of the carth.''^ 
 
 What, for instance, so snnple to every thinking per- 
 son, or so congenial to every uncon upted heart, as the 
 fundamental truth of all religion, the belief of the exist- 
 ence of God ? What so natural as the sentiments of 
 devotion which rise from the contemplation of his per- 
 fections ? What, in like manner may I add, so easily 
 comprehended as the more important doctrines of reve- 
 lation? That a teacher came from God to instruct man- 
 kind ; that he delivered the purest precepts, and ex- 
 hibited the model of every virtue in his life ; that he 
 conversed with man as a friend and brother"; that he 
 died to take away the sting and the bitterness of death; 
 and that he rose again to exhibit to man a li\ ing proof 
 of the final victory of human nature over death and the 
 grave. There is a congeniality between such views 
 and the natural sentiments of religion, and they supplv' 
 so well some points which the religion of nature leave-; 
 obscure, that an unprejudiced man, it would seem, 
 should have no great difficulty in admitting thL'm, and 
 should require no very great body of c\'idencc for the 
 purpose of establishing their trutli. 
 
 The evidence for natural religion rests on the simple 
 and quiet contemplation of nature : the leading evidence 
 for revelation is founded in the consciousness of our 
 spiritual .wants, and in the unstrained iiUerpretation of 
 
22 The Character of Wisdom, 
 
 Scripture, which, without any trick of rhetoric, or any 
 aftectation of laborious proof, speaks immediately to the 
 heart and the understanding, and founds its evidence 
 and authority on the weight and dignity of the truths 
 which it delivers. " Wisdom then^'''' my brethren, 
 *' is before him that hath iwcerstanding :'''* not merely 
 the wisdom of time, but the wisdom of eternity; not 
 merely the rules of common prudence, but the paths of 
 everlasting salvatio i. 
 
 The second position which I undertook to illustrate, 
 is, that profound or extensive inquiries may frequently 
 add confirmation to moral and religious truths, but are 
 never resorted to by the wise, from any view of opposi- 
 tion to these truths. 
 
 It was not certainly the intention of Solomon, to in- 
 terrupt the inquiries and speculations of the human 
 mind : nor, when he affirms that *' the eyes of the fool are 
 in the ends of the earthy''"' does he at all mean to insinu- 
 atCj that the wise should not likewise look abroad upon 
 nature, and employ their eyes upon all that is known of 
 the works of God, or of the history of man. The wise, 
 however, are actuated in their iuqtiiries, by principles 
 diametrically opposite to those of the fool. They seek 
 not to oppose the truths upon which the happiness and 
 the dignity of man depend, but to confirm them. 
 Whatever may be the seducing power of ingenious 
 speculation, the wise man will never permit it to over- 
 come the fundamental principles of his conduct, and of 
 his hopes. The proofs on which these rest, are simple 
 and before him : his speculations arc drawn, he knows, 
 from a distance, and may be true or false : the first he 
 possesses in common with every human being, before 
 Avhom these truths have been laid : they are Ijjve the air 
 
The Character of Wisdom. 23 
 
 which all men breathe, and the objects which all see : 
 more refined speculations upon such subjects, are like 
 inquiries into the composition of the atmosphere, or into 
 the hidden properties of bodies, which, in the hands of 
 the wise, may lead, no doubt, to great and important 
 uses, but w hich may be abused by the fool to purposes 
 of mischief and folly. 
 
 The wise will never rake into the corners of nature 
 for strange appearances, upon which their ignorance may 
 raise a doubt as to the wisdom and the beneficence of 
 its author. It is their delight, on the contrary, to ex- 
 plain every passage in the great volume of creation, 
 which may render his attributes more admirable to the 
 human mind. Nor, in their examination of the various 
 forms under which religion lias appeared among men, do 
 they ever officiously study to conceal the original charac- 
 ters of truth, which run through the whole ; or to throw 
 into the dark those features of divinity, which distin- 
 guish the religion of Christ from all the other forms of 
 human belief. Such, indeed, are sometimes the me- 
 lancholy attempts of the fool; or, what is worse, of 
 those men of unfortunate ingenuity, who abuse the gift 
 of God committed to them to their own ruin, and that 
 of others. It is, on the other hand, the part of the wise, 
 through all the varying forms of superstition, to trace 
 the workings of the same common religious nature in 
 man, and, amidst the darkness which sits deep over the 
 hopes of the human race, to descry the appearance ol" 
 that star which gives the promise of a better day, and 
 *' to rejoice ivith exceeding great joy, ^^ when it leads 
 them to the place where they may '''' fall down and xvor- 
 ship himy'* who has come to enlighten and to save the 
 world. 
 
34 The Character of Wisdom, 
 
 Tliese observations, my brethren, as I have already 
 said, are chiefly intended for the young. In that period 
 of life, more than in any other, wisdom seems to be 
 something remote from common observation, and to be 
 found only " in the ends of the earth.'''* It is at this pe- 
 riod that we are more attached in our inquiries to inge- 
 nuity than to truth ; and that, in the fancied liberality 
 and illumination of our views, we are tempted to hold 
 in the utmost contempt every thing which we can class 
 in our imaginations under the a-spect of superstition. 
 Under that name, alas ! we are too ready to include the 
 most venerable and the wisest opinions ; and, on the 
 shrine of popular delusion and folly, to sacrifice all that 
 is truly great, either on earth or in heaven ! These, how- 
 ever, whatever they may seem to be, are not the true 
 employments of genius, and are, at all times, most un- 
 worthy of an elevated mind. 
 
 Go then, my young friends, and fill your minds with 
 all knowledge, and with all science. Let your eyes 
 and your thoughts run into the ends of the earth. Give 
 full scope to that ardour which this seat of liberal edu- 
 cation is so well adapted to inspire and to gratify ; but, 
 as you value your peace of mind here, and your hap- 
 piness hereafter, let not the vanity of knowledge lay 
 snares for the principles of your virtue, or your faith. 
 Make philosophy, as she ever ought to be, the hand- 
 maid of morality and religion, and she will then supply 
 you with additional confirmations of that wisdom which 
 is ever before you ; and your eyes will then have been 
 in the ends of the earth, not like the eyes of fools, but 
 like the eyes of the servants and the children of the 
 most high and all-wise God. 
 
SERMON IV. 
 
 ON THE CHARACTER OF FAITH. 
 
 ST. JOHN, XX. 29. 
 
 '^^ Jesus saith unto him., Thomas., because thou hast seen 
 me., thou hast believed ; blessed are they that have not 
 seen^ and yet have believed.'^'' 
 
 THESE words, my brethren, convey much 
 useful instruction to those who, like us, Uve in the latter 
 ages of the Gospel. Th^y are the words of our Lord 
 to St. Thomas, occasioned by that singular incredulity 
 with which this apostle received the accounts of his 
 master's resurrection. After having removed his doubts, 
 by affording him all the evidence which he required, or 
 which the fact was capable of receiving, our Lord re- 
 proves him, but in very gentle lano;nage, for the want oT 
 faith which he had shown. " Thomas (says he), be- 
 cause thou hast seen me thou Jiast believed ; blessed are 
 they that have not seen., and yet have believed.'''' 
 
 It is evident, that we, in this age of the world, stand 
 very much in the situation in which St. Thomas stood 
 before our Lord appeared to him. We have not seen, 
 — and yet, I trust, we believe ! There are, however, 
 some in this age, who will tell us, that our belief is fal- 
 
 D 
 
26 The Character of Faith. 
 
 lacious and vain ; who will deride the promises in 
 which we trust, and affirm that there are no grounds 
 for those hopes which we have set before us. If, at 
 any time, we feel our minds giving way to such repre- 
 sentations, or are dazzled by the plausible ingenuity 
 with which they may be supported, let us call to our 
 recollection the memorable words of our Lord, that al- 
 though we have not seen, although we have not re- 
 ceived the highest evidences, we are yet blessed if we 
 believe. The words, my brethren, are very affecting, 
 and very important; and I trust, that 1 shall be usefully 
 employed in drawing from them a few obvious reflec- 
 tions. 
 
 In the first place, then, it is apparent, that when our 
 Saviour tells us we are blessed if we believe, he cannot 
 possibly mean to recommend that we should believe 
 any thing which we have not good grounds for believ- 
 ing. He cannot mean that we should take our opi- 
 nions upon trust, or without making a proper use of 
 that reason which God has given us. We are, on the 
 contrary, expressly required to " prove all things^'** 
 and to be " ready to give aii answer to every man who 
 asketh a reason of the liope that is in us.'''' According 
 to the opportunities which we possess, our faith ought 
 always to be established on solid and substantial foun- 
 dations. But, from the very nature of the thing, these 
 can never amount to the highest possible evidence. 
 What we learn from the testimony of others, is never 
 so certain as what we see with our own eyes. It may, 
 however, be sufficiently certain to be credited or be. 
 Ueved ; and that mind must be very full of suspicion, 
 
The Character of Faith. 27 
 
 which will always require the highest evidence for 
 every species of truth. 
 
 This was plainly the case with St. Thomas. He 
 had surely been witness to many circumstances in the 
 life of his master which rendered the fact of his resur- 
 rection not a very improbable one ; and his compa- 
 nions, the apostles, had, with one voice, declared to 
 him, that they had conversed with their Lord, and that 
 he was indeed risen from the dead. The hesitation of 
 St. Thomas with regard to the truth of this fact was 
 evidently, therefore, very unreasonable, and argued a 
 strange degree of stubborn incredulity. It was possi- 
 ble, certainly, that the apostles might be joined in a 
 plot to deceive him ; but this was both an improbable 
 and an unamiable suspicion. He knew well the worth 
 and the veracity of these men; he knew likewise their 
 love for their master, and the extreme consternation 
 and distress which his death had occasioned them ; and 
 it was surely most unlikely that, in this temper of 
 mind, they should be so idly and crut lly employed as 
 to attempt to trifle with the feelings of one of their own 
 associates. While, then, our Lord cannot mean to 
 recommend groundless belief, yet he very reasonably 
 recommends belief on such convictions of the under- 
 standing as have a substantial foundation, although they 
 may not rest on the highest possible evidence. 
 
 But, secondly, my brethren, the expression of the 
 text conveys much more. It expresses not merely a 
 simple approbation of such belief as a right and reason- 
 able thing, but it speaks of it in a high strain of com- 
 mendation. It is not merely said, it is reasonable to 
 believe although we have not seen, but, *' blessed are 
 
28 The Character of Faith, 
 
 they that have not seen^ and yet have believed.'^'' In 
 the particular case, therefore, of religious belief (the only 
 case which our Saviour had in view), it appears that 
 there is not merely a reasonableness and propriety, but 
 thnt there is a high degree of moral excellence. This 
 is a point which it is of consequence to explain, as it 
 seems not to be sufficiently understood : though what I 
 can nov/ say upon the subject must necessarily be very 
 imperfect. 
 
 First, then, it may be remarked, that religious belief 
 is the noblest principle of the human soul ; and is the 
 feeling to which it instinctively returns whenever it is 
 freed from the seductions of present objects. When- 
 ever the mind comes back upon itself, and reflects for a 
 moment whence it came, and whither it is going ; when 
 it is freed from the current of the world, it then rises 
 as by a natural aspiration after some intercourse and com- 
 munion with the unseen arbiter of its destiny. There 
 inimediately springs up within it a principle of faith ; 
 a bond of union, which connects it with the unknown 
 and undiscoverable secrets of futurity, and makes it feel 
 that a time is coming when all the objects with which 
 it is now occupied will be of no value in its eye, and 
 that other and greater objects, with which it is now un- 
 acquainted, will then fill up the vast measure of its 
 afttctions. To cultivate this feeling, to keep ahve this 
 high sense of our future destiny, to cling to those facts 
 by which it is supported, to apply ourselves with ardour 
 and eagerness to every appearance in nature, and to 
 every relation in history by which ii receives confirma- 
 tion, is a proof of an elevated mind; and so far from 
 being a weakness which we ought to overcome, it is a 
 
The Character of Faith. 29 
 
 noble disposition which struggles with the littleness of 
 present pursuits, and strives to lift the soul to a sense of 
 its true dignity. This is one view in which it is bless- 
 ed to believe ; and although our reason certainly could 
 never approve of any unsound or fallacious belief, yet 
 the moral faculty might almost applaud that noble bold- 
 ness of faith which could cling to religion, even if rea- 
 son were to oppose it. 
 
 But farther, all religious faith that is consistent and 
 sound, evinces a love of virtue ; because when we throw 
 our eyes into a future v/orld, we can never rationally do 
 so without believing that this future world will be the 
 reign of perfection. The mind of man rises beyond the 
 present life, chiefly because it perceives here something 
 incomplete, wrong, and irregularly conducted ; it looks 
 into another life, because it there expects that every 
 thing will be well-ordered and completed. It can only 
 look into another life with satisfaction, therefore it can 
 only believe willingly, it can only cling to belief, and 
 accept of any reasonable evidence for believing, if itself 
 is good, if it loves goodness, if it triumphs in the 
 thought that all will yet be well, and that there will be 
 nothing left to offend in the kingdom of God. Faith, 
 therefore, argues a blessed disposition, a disposition 
 "which aims at the perfection of all creation, and which 
 longs to behold the whole universe of being, freed from 
 defect, from vice, and suffering. 
 
 I shall only add, my brethren, that there is something 
 peculiarly blessed in Christian faith, in that disposition of 
 mind which, recognizing the blindness and the weak- 
 ness of the human heart, seeks a guide to direct its steps, 
 and strength superior to its own on which it may lean; 
 
30 The Character of Faith. 
 
 which, sacrificing the prick of man, can fix its eye 
 steadily upon the cross, a id can discover the perfection 
 of ail that is to be admired and loved ia one whose exter- 
 nal circumstances were mean, and who '* had no beauty 
 that we should desire him, ' ' There is a purity and an ab- 
 sence of all worldly affections in sucli faith, that is pecu- 
 liarly connected with all the best principles of our na- 
 ture. 
 
 From these two reflections, from the reflection that 
 sound faith must always rest upon good grounds, and 
 from the reflection that there is a moral beauty and bless- 
 edness in the disposition of mind which leads to reli- 
 gious belief, we may gather what is the duty of man 
 on this important subject : First, it is our duty to seek 
 such a foundation for our faith as reason will approve 
 of; and, secondly, we must be careful not to let the 
 foundation be shaken when we have secured it. We 
 must not consider religious faith as an indifferent mat- 
 ter, or that it resembles opinions on common subjects, 
 to which it is of little importance whether we are stt ad- 
 fast or indifferent. When we have formed reasonable 
 opinions in religion, we must prize them as the great- 
 est good which we possess, and rather permit the whole 
 world to crumble about our heads than part with one of 
 them. Like other duties, this, too, may at times be a 
 difficult one. We may be led away from it by the se- 
 ductions of vanity, by the love of the world, by the love 
 of philosophy, falsely so called, and by many other 
 attractions. But, in the difficulty itself, there is another 
 source of merit ; and the more hard the task may be to 
 keep our faith unshaken, the more blessed are we if 
 we persevere to the end- 
 
The Character of Faith. 31 
 
 In the third place, my brethren, the words of our 
 Saviour suggest a farther reflection. While faith is 
 blessed as a moral quality, it is to be accounted blessed 
 likewise in another view. Our faith is not, in niost 
 cases, entirely our own work. We owe much to the 
 care of our parents, to the good pnnciples which they 
 have instilled into us ; and often, too, we are indebted 
 to happy incidents in the course ol our lives, which may 
 well be denominated hiierpositions of Providence. Our 
 faith then comes from a higher power than ourselves : it 
 is a good gift bestowed upon us ; a blessing which we 
 have received. 
 
 From this view, let us first learn with what temper 
 of mind we ought to regard want of faith in other men, 
 Tiiere is, probably, in all instances of infidelity, some 
 degree of vice : in many instances there may be very 
 great and glaring vice, something which it is natural for 
 us to detest and to abhor. But there mav be manv 
 other instances, and it is to be hoped they are the most 
 frequent, in which there is much more to be regretted 
 and lamented. The lesson Vvhich the words of vav: 
 Saviour in the text, and whicii the whole incident that 
 gave occasion to them may afford us here, is very strik- 
 ing and beautiful. St. Thomas Vv^as for a time what is 
 -commonly called an infidel. He required an evidence 
 for his faith, which no man in the present age of the 
 world can ever obtain, and which it was unreasonable, 
 and, in some respects, unwortliy in him to demand. 
 Yet his Master still beheld, with a fiivourable eye, what 
 was really good in this disciple; and, so far from treating 
 him with any harshness or unplcasing severity on ac- 
 count of his unbelief, he condescended to give him thr 
 
32 The Character of Faith. 
 
 evidence which he required. He scarcely, indeed, re- 
 proaches him with his infidelity. His words convey a 
 reproach, but it is of the gentlest and most tacit nature 
 imaginable. He does not say, " Thomas, thou art 
 accursed because thou didst not believe;" he says 
 simplv, " Thomas, because thou hast seen me^ thou hast 
 believed ; blessed are they that have not seen, and yet 
 iiave believed!''^ If this was the temper, and this the 
 language in which our Saviour himself addressed an un- 
 believing disciple, with what charity and indulgence 
 ought we, his unworthy servants, to treat a brother who 
 has fallen into doubt and perplexity ! instead of driv- 
 ing him from us with anger and impatient revilings, 
 we are here directed to lay before him all the evidence 
 in our possession, and, by gentle and persuasive assur- 
 ances, to win over to the truth, a heart which can only 
 be hardened by scorn, and alienated by reproach. 
 
 But farther, my brethren, from the view of faith as a 
 blessing M^iich we have received, the following most 
 important consideration arises : let it not be received in 
 vain. It is not given us for the purpose of lying dead 
 and dormant in our minds, it is given with the design 
 of inspiring us with the love of every thing that is 
 good. It is given with the view of exciting us to all 
 good works; and, in fact, we cannot be said to possess 
 it unless we permit it to obtain its genuine and natural 
 scope. It is given to raise our minds above this world, 
 and to carry our affections into a higher scene. We 
 believe that the present life is but the school of prepa- 
 ration for an eternal world ; that we have no *' abiding 
 city'*'* here ; and that we are advancing to a celestial 
 city, whose " builder and maker is God.''^ We be- 
 
The Character of Faith, 33 
 
 lieve that one has gone before us, who came to ^uide 
 us in our course, who has burst the barriers of the 
 grave, and has " ascended up on high.'*'* These are 
 the truths in which our infant years were instructed, 
 and which our maturer judgments have approved : 
 they are the truths which we profess to believe when 
 we assemble round the altar of Christ ; and they con- 
 stitute that faith which is the polar star that directs our 
 voyage through the dark and stormy night of morta- 
 lity. " What manner of men^ then^ ought we to be iti 
 all holy conversation and godliness-'''* and how greatly 
 does it become us to *' hold this mystery of the faith in 
 a pure conscience /" 
 
SERMON V. 
 
 ON NATURAL RELIGION. 
 
 ST. JOHN, xiv. 8. 
 
 ** Philip saith unto him. Lord show us the Father, 
 and it sufficeth us.^* 
 
 HOWEVER inattentive to the impressions of 
 religion mankind may generally be, it is probable that 
 there is not a human being in existence who has not, 
 on some occasions of his life, felt the full force of the 
 sentiment in the text. The wise and the ignorant, the 
 busy and the gay, the prosperous and the unfortunate, 
 the good and the bad, have all their hours of deeper 
 and finer feeling, in which their minds, rising above 
 common pursuits, become sensible that a Father in 
 heaven must be found to complete the measure of their 
 enjoyments, to alleviate their sorrows, and to pardon 
 their sins. The language of Philip, therefore, my 
 brethren, is the language of human nature; and it 
 strikes upon our hearts as the voice of a being who, 
 wandering over a dark world, where error mis- 
 leads, where vice betrays, where misery pursues, and 
 where even prosperity cloys, lifts, at times, an anxi- 
 ous eye to the heavens which surround him, and 
 exclaims that all is yet well, that nothing is yet to be 
 
On JSi'atural Peligion. 35 
 
 complained of, if he can find a Father. " Lordy show 
 tis the Father y and it sufficeth us.'*'' 
 
 The answer of our Lord to the request of his disciple 
 is conveyed in language so lofty, and is yet so gentle 
 and condescending, that it could have proceeded from 
 no other than one who, with all the feelings of the Son 
 of Man, knew that he was the Son of God. " Jesus 
 saith unto him Have I been so long time with you. and 
 yet hast thou not known me, Philip ? He that hath seen 
 me hath seen the Father: and how say est thou. then. Show 
 us the Father F^^ On a future occasion, my brethren, I 
 will examine these words as they apply to him who 
 spoke them. At present it may not be a useless em- 
 ployment of your time, if I point out a more general 
 answer which the request of Philip might have received; 
 an answer not iiideed so applicable to the circumstances 
 in which he stood, nor so satisfactory in itself, yet more 
 adapted to the general circumstances of mankind, and 
 wliich has at least the advantage of being ever ready at 
 hand, if we will but open our hearts to receive it. There 
 is no absolute necessity for a messenger from heaven to 
 inform us that we have a F.tthcr : whatever we see, or 
 hear, or feel, brings us assurance of this gieat and con- 
 solatory truth ; and the sun which blazes above our 
 heads, and " the moon and the stars which he hath or- 
 dained,'''' address us in words which '-'■ have gone out 
 through all the earthy and to the ends of the world. ''^ 
 
 There is surciy no truth more obvious to the human 
 mind, than that this magnificent universe which we in- 
 habit is an orderly and systematic scene ; that there is 
 no confusion or disorder in the great outlines of nature; 
 and the farther pluiosophy inquires, the more contri- 
 
36 On Natural Religion. 
 
 vance and artifice it discovers in every minute particu- 
 lar. This is a fact, my brethren ; and this suffices us. 
 It shows us the Father ; it shows us the mind by which 
 nature is governed ; and tells us, in language which 
 cannot be misunderstood, that wherever we move, wis- 
 dom embraces us. 
 
 But it is not merely inanimate nature by which we 
 are surrounded. The world teems with life ; and innu- 
 merable orders of living beings rejoice in the hght of 
 day. It is not design and intelligence alone which the 
 volume of creation offers to our eye. We likewise 
 read in glowing characters the traces of benevolence ; 
 and the Father of existence is also the giver of good. 
 Does not this suffice us, my brethren ? Or, if man re- 
 quires more particular proofs that he has a Father, has 
 he not received them ? Has he not been made but " a 
 little lower than the angels^ a?id beeji crowned with glory 
 and honour ? Is he not made to have dominion over the 
 works of the divine hands, and are not all things put un- 
 der his feet?'''' Are not the highest sources of happiness 
 opened up to him in the attainment of knowledge, in his 
 social aftections, and in the practice of virtue ? Are 
 these, and all the other enjoyments of his nature placed 
 within his reach, and yet can he be blind to the bounty 
 from which they flow ? Can he, for a moment, suppose 
 that God careth not for him, or that he is thrown loose 
 upon a world where he is forsaken and neglected? True: 
 he must often labour with the sweat of his brow ; but 
 that seeming curse commonly proves a real blessing. 
 True : he is subject to pain, to sorrow, and to death ; 
 but the rays of patience and hope gild the clouds of his 
 ^ heaviest day, and the best and happiest affections of his 
 
On Natural Religion. 37 
 
 nature are called out under the salutary discipline of af- 
 fliction. 
 
 The evils of life, my brethren, are confessedly a dark 
 part of the divine administration ; yet we commonly con- 
 ceive it to be darker than it is, and, unwilling at any 
 time to acknowledge that we require chastisement, we 
 are too apt to think ourselves harshly dealt with, when 
 we arc in truth receiving the most unequivocal proofs of 
 our Father's love. " ylffiiction cometh not forth out of 
 the dust^ neither doth trouble spring out of the ground,'*'' 
 There are purposes, frequently indeed obscure, which 
 the most severe calamities are intended to answer. 
 There is one purpose which they always may effect, the 
 improvement of our moral nature. Besides the quali- 
 ties of patience and fortitude, which are exercised only 
 in the season of sorrow and of danger, how often does it 
 happen that our religious sentiments are for the first time 
 acquired, or are fully confirmed in those trying moments 
 alone ! And, while the bounty of our heavenly Father 
 is too often received with thoughtless ingratitude, how 
 many fly to him for comfort when they have no other 
 hope on which they can depend! Shall we speak then 
 of the evils of life as affording a presumption that we 
 have no Father who carcth for us, when it is apparent 
 that many of his children discover him only amidst the 
 gloom of those evils ? Is it a proof that our Father de- 
 sires not our good, because he desires that we should 
 find our good only in finding out him ? 
 
 The inquiry, then, which man on some occasions se 
 earnestly makes, may receive an easy answer. " Shoxi' 
 us the Father, ^^ we say, " and it sufficeth ?/.?." The 
 answer is, you behold Jiim; — not, indeed, face to face. 
 
38 On Natural Religion. 
 
 for can man look on God and live ? but you see him in 
 the manner best adapted to your feeble powers, to the 
 station which you hold among his creatures. You be- 
 hold him in his works ; in the happiness of the bf ings 
 which he has formed ; in the course of human affairs ; 
 even in the midst of your afflictions. Does not thih suf- 
 fice you ? Is it not enough to inspire you with gratitude, 
 to dispel doubt, to enjoin resignation, to awaken hope, 
 and confirm faith ? 
 
 What proofs or evidences, my brethren, can we de- 
 sire ? Because God does not make himself more fully 
 known to us, shall we not thankfully receive the know- 
 ledge which we have ? Is it not an immense privilege 
 of our being that we know any thing of the Father at 
 all ? and, when we consider the prodigious disproportion 
 between the Creator and the creature, how wonderful is 
 even that little knowledge which we possess ! How 
 much this knowledge has been improved by the revela- 
 tion of Christ, I propose hereafter to explain ; but, at 
 present, can we be deaf to the voice of nature herself? 
 and is it possible that we should not behold her august 
 form rising and addressing us in the very same words 
 of tacit reproof with which our Lord addressed his dis- 
 ciples ? " Have I been so long time with you, and yet 
 have ye not known me? He that liath seen me hath 
 seen the Father; and how say ye, then, Shoxv us the 
 Father?'' 
 
 These reflections have been suggested to me from 
 contemplating the character of the age in which we live 
 as an age of philosophical inquiry. Men are no longer 
 satisfied with surveying the outward appearances ofv 
 tilings ; they follow nature into ht;r deepest recesses ; 
 
On Natural Religion. 39 
 
 and, both in the material system and in the course of 
 huinan affairs, they are eager to explore those leading 
 and general laws, by which many detached and appa- 
 rendy contradictory particulars may be connected and 
 reconciled. The attempt is great, my brethren, and 
 worthy of man ; and the success which it has met with 
 in every department of human knowledge encourages 
 him to proceed. Yet why should it have happened, 
 that the noblest of all the occupations in which the 
 mind of man can be engaged, should ever be suspect- 
 ed to have any alliance \vith the lowest and most de- 
 grading imagination which he can form ; and why should 
 those whose great object it is to elucidate the fair volume 
 of creation, while, with one hand, they point to the 
 order and wisdom which it displays, be supposed ca- 
 pable of forming the vain and impious design to blot 
 out, with the other, the name of its gracious author ? 
 Why should philosophy and religion, which are so 
 closely joined, ever be imagined capable of disunion? 
 or why should those who are followers of the one ever 
 miss the path which leads them to the other ? 
 
 I doubt not that the popular suspicion which pursues 
 the philosophical character, is in a great measure to be 
 ascribed to the mean jealousy of narrow and bigotted 
 opinions; and I know that, in this country at least, there 
 are men, the purity of whose devotion is commensurate 
 with the extent of their science. It is, however, melan- 
 choly to reflect, that any foundation should have been 
 given for so black a stigma on the philosophy of our 
 age, that any " stars should have shot madly from their 
 spheres," or that any name which the votaries of sci- 
 ence repeat with t^ratitude and veneration, should be 
 
40 On Natural Religion. 
 
 associated in our minds with the dark impressions of 
 impiety. It is sad to think that " offences have come.'''* 
 " But woe to those by whom the offence cometh /*' These 
 prophetic words, my brethren, have, in our time*, 
 been fulfilled ; and in those countries in which the in- 
 vestigations of philosophy have been more productive 
 of pride than of piety, the fury of the sword is at last 
 giving instructions which all the beauty and beneficence 
 of nature had inculcated in vain. Driven out from the 
 scene of his domestic repose, a wretched outcast on a 
 miserable world, more than one " dark idolater of 
 chance" is, I doubt not, at this hour raising his eye to 
 heaven, and crying in the bitterness of his soul, " show 
 us the Father.''* Our day, my brethren, is not yet 
 come ; and may that paternal arm which has hitherto 
 been held over us, still cover our heads with its pro- 
 tecting shield ! Yet the decree may have gone forth, 
 and the hand- writing may already have appeared upon 
 the wall. — " Thou, too, hast been weighed in the balance^ 
 and art found wanting J*"* 
 
 These reflections call upon us all to be serious. They 
 call upon those who are advanced in life to root out 
 from their minds every sentiment or opinion which 
 may oppose itself to the knowledge of God, to open 
 their hearts, and to contemplate, with renewed spirits, 
 that mighty display of wisdom and love which every- 
 where surrounds them. If they have not yet known the 
 Father, these reflections call upon them to know him 
 now ; and they send them, not to any hidden fountain 
 of knowledge, to any dark inquiry, but to that book of 
 
 * i8or. 
 
On Natural Religion. 41 
 
 nature whir-h is open to every eye, and which many are 
 so curious to explore. Parents are called upon to im- 
 press the principles of piety on the hearts of the young; 
 to " show them the Father ;'''* and while they supply 
 them with the means of instruction in every branch of 
 liberal knowledge, to point out to them those traces of 
 wisdom and benevolence in nature, of which all science 
 is full, and without the perception of which all science 
 is unsatisfactory and dead. Teach your children to 
 have minds superior to that miserable folly which would 
 represent religion as the refuge only of the weak and 
 ignorant ; show them, by your own example, and by 
 the example of the great and good in every age, that it 
 is the true source of all genuine dignity of mind. Be 
 not too anxious about their success in the paths of 
 worldly ambition, or in the acquisition of external and 
 fallacious accomplishments ; inspire them, above all 
 things, with the love of God and of virtue ; " show 
 them the Father ^ and that will suffice them,^"* 
 
SERMON VI. 
 
 ON REVEALED RELIGION. 
 
 ST. JOHN, xiv. y. 
 
 '* Jesus saith unto h'lm^ Have I been so long time with 
 you, and yet hast thou not known me^ Philip ? He 
 that hath seen me hath seen the Father; and how 
 say est thou, then^ Show us the Father ?" 
 
 THE request of Philip to our Lord led me, my 
 brethren, in a former discourse, to point out that reply 
 which it might have received from the suggestions of 
 nature, even if he to whom the request was addressed 
 had not given the answer which you have now heard. 
 " Show us the Father (said Philip), andit sufficethus.^"* 
 Nature, as we have seen, might have replied, you be- 
 hold him *' wherever you live, and move, and have your 
 being :'''' in " the heavens, the work of his fingers, the 
 sun, and the tnoon, and the stars, which he hath ordain- 
 (?r//" in the earth, which he " hath founded upon the 
 seas, and established upon the foods .•" in '* the beasts of 
 the field, the fowl of the air, and whatsoever passeth 
 through the paths of the seas:^^ in " man, of whom he 
 is mindful, and the son of man whom he hath visited, 
 whom he hath made a little lower than the angels, ana 
 hath crowned with glory and honour.''^ 
 
On Revealed Religion. 43 
 
 The answer of our Lord to his disciple does not at all 
 supercede this general language of nature to all the 
 children of men ; it is, however, a different answer ; 
 and to those who are accustomed to derive their religi- 
 ous impressions from natural appearances alone, it may 
 perhaps seem to have been in a great measure superflu- 
 ous. Yet it was a reply which many wise and good 
 men of former ages had longed to hear, the anticipation 
 of which had brightened the inspirations of ancient pro- 
 phets and kings, and which we, my brethren, at this 
 hour*, when we are preparing to fall down and worship 
 before the humble cradle of him who came into the world 
 to save us, know, I trust, in what manner to prize, and 
 to receive with thankfulness and joy. " Jesus saith 
 unto him^ Have I been so long time with you. and yet 
 hast thou not known me. Philip ? He that hath seen me 
 hath seen the Father ; and how say est thou, then^ Show 
 ns the Father ?" 
 
 It will not be expected, nor indeed would it be suita- 
 ble to the province of the pulpit, that I should take oc- 
 casion, from these words, to enter into any formal expo- 
 sition of the evidences of Revelation. It is impossible, 
 however, to neglect the opportunity which they afford 
 me, of making some very general observations, which 
 may be useful to those who are directing their thoughts 
 to this inquiry. 
 
 The leading ground upon which those proceed who 
 deny the authority of revelation is, that it is unnecessa- 
 ry ; and that nature and reason can supply us wirh ill 
 the religious knowledge which we require. Now, ad- 
 
 * Season of Advent. 
 
44 On Revealed Religion* 
 
 mitting to those who maintain this opinion, that there 
 is nothing deficient in the intimations concerning God 
 and his laws which we derive from these sources, there 
 still occurs an important observation, which does not 
 seem to strike them with the force which it deserves. 
 In considering the subject of religion, a material distinc- 
 tion is to be made between what it appears to us may 
 be (. fFected by the unassisted powers of the human mind, 
 and what the history of mankind informs us has been 
 actually effected by them. The natural evidences of 
 religion may appear to us very clear and indisputable ; 
 and yet we know that, not two thousand years ago, 
 these evidences were very imperfectly discerned by phi- 
 losophers themselves, and that mankind in general were 
 involved in the grossest darkness and idolatry. 
 
 Supposing, then, that revelation added nothing to the 
 religion of nature, it yet seems to have been necessary 
 for introducing into the world clear and just views of 
 religion, at the time, and in the degree in which it was 
 the intention of Providence that such views should pre- 
 vail ; nor, certainly, have we any reason to suppose that 
 men would ever have advanced one step in rational 
 opinions on this most important of all subjects, if Chris- 
 tianity had not opened their eyes, and rendered them 
 sensible arid ashamed of their folly. Even admitting, 
 therefore, that reason and philosophy might possibly 
 have led men to just notions of religion, this at least is 
 certain, that, in point of fact, they never did so ; and 
 that, till the aera of the Christian revelation, the prin- 
 ciples of natural religion were almost as little under- 
 stood, by the bulk of mankind, as the scheme of their 
 future redemption. He, therefore, who spoke the words 
 
On Revealed Religion, 45 
 
 of the text, may justly claim the praise, that while 
 these gifts of heaven failed to produce this fiuit to the 
 wise themselves, he first showed the Father to the great 
 multitude of mankind. 
 
 1 do not, however, my brethren, rest the cause of 
 revelation here. I deny that any description of men, 
 the most enlightened of the human race, can, with any 
 reason, pretend to undervalue the light of Christianity ; 
 and the words of our Lord to Philip were not only 
 adapted to the capacity of the unlettered individual to 
 whom they were spoken, but may, at this day, be ad- 
 dressed, with all their original efficacy, to the best in- 
 structed and most philosophical of the sons of men. 
 *' He that hath seen ?ne (says our Lord) hath seen the 
 Father. ''"' A few illusuations of the import of these 
 expressions will, 1 believe, fully establish the assertion 
 which I have now made. 
 
 In the first place, then, our Saviour " showed the 
 Father.,'''' by exhibiting in human nature a model of 
 divine perfection. It is here, probably, that natural 
 religion is most obviously defective. Man feels that he 
 is unworthy of his Maker ; and cannot form to himself 
 any distinct or satisfactory ideas of the Bt- ing to whom 
 he is eager to approach. Nature, indeed, is grand and 
 harmonious, and reflects, at least from her great out- 
 lines, the image of the majesty, and the goodness of 
 God ; but man is conscious in himself of disorder and 
 corruption ; and the " still small voice'''' of nature is not 
 heard amidst the earthquakes, the tempests, and the 
 fires which lay waste the human mind. It is this feel- 
 ing which clearly has given birth to all the extrava- 
 gancies of superstition. LTn^ble to resist the impulse 
 
46 On Revealed Religion. 
 
 which calls upon him to beiid before invisible power, 
 yet incapable, from his own imperfections, of forming 
 any just conception of the God whom it becomes him 
 to adore, man at all times, instead of exhibiting in him- 
 self the image of his Maker, has represented the divine 
 nature under the infinite variety of images suggested by 
 his own weakness, ignorance, and vices. Before, there- 
 fore, he could become acquainted with God, it seemed 
 to be necessary that he should himself appear in a form 
 worthy of the Deity ; nor could the Father be revealed 
 to him, while there was no example in human nature of 
 •' that beloved Sojiy in whom the Father might be well 
 pleased.'*'' 
 
 Here, then, revelation supplies us with a link which 
 was wanting in the chain of religious truth, and without 
 which religion cannot be rendered firm and indissolu- 
 ble in the human soul. It is in the person of our Sa- 
 viour alone, that the connection between man and his 
 Maker can distinctly be traced; that the gulph which 
 separates the Creator from his imperfect creature is fill- 
 ed up; and that man now feels the strong and unbrok- 
 en chain which connects him with the throne of God, 
 and the treasures of eternity. 
 
 How necessary this bond of union is, will appear 
 clearly from the history of errors in religion, both in an- 
 cient and modern times. The prevailing error of an- 
 cient times was idolatry; which, as I have already ex- 
 plained, rose evidently from the indistinct and wander- 
 ing conceptions of the divine nature at that time inci- 
 dent to the mind of man. Christianity banished idola- 
 try for ever from the world ; and this species of error 
 cannot now mislead those who depart from the faith of 
 
On Revealed Relighn. 47 
 
 the Gospel. They are, however, liable to errors fully 
 as monstrous, and perhaps more pernicious. It seldom 
 happens that those who abandon Christianity settle in 
 any rational form of natural belief; and, when they do, 
 their systems are invariably borrowed from that revela- 
 tion which they pretend to undervalue. The melan- 
 choly history of the philosophy of our times, however, 
 will inform us, that they much more frequently run into 
 the thoughtless indifference of scepticism, or even into 
 the horrible perversion of blind and determined atheism. 
 The bond of Christianity being broken, the mind is 
 thrown loose to its own extravagant chimeras, and the 
 pretender to philosophy now, no less than the savage in 
 former times, although in a manner more perverse and 
 laborious, loses sight of the Father. 
 
 I know not, my brethren, whether, in these observa- 
 tions, I liave made myself completely understood ; the 
 leading idea, however, upon which they proceed is, 
 I believe, perfectly just, — that natural religion is de- 
 fective, inasmuch as it leaves a wide and gloomy chasm 
 between man and his Maker, in consequence of the 
 imperfections and vices of the human character ; and 
 that this chasm is filled up by the form of perfection 
 exhibited in the character of Jesus. The observations 
 which follow are more obvious and familiar. 
 
 Our Lord, in the second place, '' shoxved the Fa- 
 ther'''' of mankind in his moral government. It is of 
 the utmost importance for us to know, that the world 
 is governed on the principles of justice, and that the 
 great Being by whom it is conducted, will finally ren- 
 der unto every man according to his works. The 
 disorders which at present prevail, are not, indeed, 
 
48 On Revealed Religion. 
 
 sufficient to prevent a sound mind from drawing this 
 conclusion from the natural suggestions of conscience, 
 and from the general appearance of the divine admi- 
 nistration ; yet doubts upon this subject may very na- 
 turally intervene ; and it is worthy of the Father of 
 men to give his children more positive assurances 
 that such is the rule of his government. I need not 
 occupy your time with proving that this is most am- 
 ply done in the religion of Christ. 
 
 In the last place, our Saviour ** showed the Father''^ 
 m his mercy. The mercy of God, we may suppose 
 from nature, will be vouchsafed to all men who turn 
 from the evil of their ways ; but this, too, is doubtful ; 
 and the trembling conscience of the repentant sinner 
 requires to be assured. Need I point out how admi- 
 rably this is effected in the religion of the Master whom 
 we serve ; how eager he expresses himself, on all oc- 
 casions, to call in the wandering into his foid ; how 
 ready the Father is, he assures us, to forgive and to re- 
 ceive on the first symptoms of penitence ! The whole 
 system of Christianity, indeed, is founded upon this 
 single idea. Repentance, and its happy effects, was the 
 first doctrine which our Saviour taught, and the last 
 doctrine, the efficacy of which he sealed with his blood 
 upon the cross. 
 
 Much more, my brethren, might be added to these 
 important discussions; but I must now leave the whole 
 subject to your own meditations. The imperfect ob- 
 servations v/hich I have made are, however, I trust, suf- 
 ficient to point out some circumstances in Christianity 
 which ought to render it a subject of much more atten- 
 tion than it is usual with many to bestow upon it. In 
 
On Revealed Religiori. 49 
 
 the course of these observations, I have confined myself 
 entirely to general views, nor have 1 been anxious to 
 hold out any one system of Christian belief as preferable 
 to every other. It would be conducive, I believe, to 
 the interests of their common faith, if, throwii.g aside 
 all points of doubtful disputation. Christians of every 
 denomination would fix their eyes with undivided atten- 
 tion on the great leading fact which runs through all 
 their creeds, — that He in whose name they are baptized, 
 is the pillar of fire given them to direct their course 
 through the night and the wilderness of mortality; " the 
 sun of righteousness^ who has risen with healing in his 
 wings^''"' upon the darkness of their nature, — in one 
 word, " the Christy the Son of the living God, whose y*^ 
 and whose only, '* are the words of eternal I fe.''^ 
 
 In a former discourse, I took occasion to express my 
 regret that the voice of nature should ever utter lan- 
 guage which is not heard, or that any men, especially 
 those whose reputation for science has bestowed upon 
 them a character of authority, should fall under the 
 possible suspicion that, in examining the works of the 
 Divine hand, they can be blind to the discovery of Him 
 by whom these works are formed. I now express a 
 similar regret, that any of those whose names are distin- 
 guished for letters or genius, should ever have written or 
 spoken disparagingly of revelation ; and it is with a feeling 
 of horror that I look to the fiUai effects their wild and 
 unthinking infidelity has produced in the world. How 
 often, alas ! have they offended, not one, but many of 
 these little ones ; and how often in our day, as in the 
 hour of crucifixion, must he whom thty denied, h.ive 
 addressed his Father in the memorable words, ^' Father 
 
 G 
 
50 On Revealed Religion, 
 
 forgive them^ for they know not what they do.'''' All 
 I can add, my brethren, is to warn the young, that 
 while they read the writings of these eminent men, they 
 should be on their guard against the poison contained 
 in them : calling to their recollection, that " wide is the 
 gate, and broad if the way which leadeth to destruction ^ 
 and many there he xvhich go in thereat ; but strait is the 
 gate, and narrow is the rvay, which returneth unto life, 
 and few there be that find it.^^ 
 
SERMON VIK 
 
 THE NATIVITY OF CHRIST. 
 
 ST. MATTHEW, ii. 11. 
 
 ** And when they ivere entered into the house^ they saw 
 the young child ^ with Mary his mother.'''* 
 
 AT this season*, my brethren, our attention is 
 naturally turned to the consideration of those circum- 
 stances which the evangelists have related respecting 
 our Lord's nativity. They are few in number ; but it 
 is impossible to imagine any more beautiful and in- 
 teresting. How much solemnity in the salutation of 
 the holy virgin by the " angel, who came unto her and 
 said^ Hail! thou that art highly favoured., the Lord is 
 with thee: blessed art thou among xvomen. JVlien she saw 
 him (continues the evangelist), she xvas troidAed at his 
 saying., and cast in her inind what manner of salutation 
 this should be. And the angel said unto her., Fear not, 
 Mary, for thou hast found favour with God. And 
 behold thou slialt cojiceive and bring forth a Son, and 
 shalt call his name Jesus. He shall be great, and shall 
 be called the Son of the Highest ; and the Lord God 
 shall give unto him the throne of his father David; and 
 
 ' Ciinstma<5. 
 
52 The Nativity of Christ. 
 
 he shall reign over the house of Jacob for ever, and of 
 his kingdom there shall be no end."*^ 
 
 The vision of angels which appeared to the shep- 
 herds at the time of our Lord's birth, is another circum- 
 stance of inimitable beauty. " There were in the same 
 country shepherds abiding in the field, keeping watch over 
 their fiock by night. And, lo ! the angel of the Lord 
 came upon them, and the glory of the Lord shone round 
 about than, arid they were sore afraid. And the angel 
 said unto them^ Fear not; for, behold, I bring unto you 
 good tidings of great joy. which shall be to all people. 
 For unto you is born this day, in the city of David, a 
 Saviour,' which is Christ the Lord. And suddenly there 
 was with the angel a multitude of the heavenly host 
 praising God, and saying. Glory to God in the highest , 
 and on earth peace, good will toward men.^^ 
 
 My text is taken from the account of another inci- 
 dent, not less striking than any of those already mention- 
 ed, and which marks, perhaps, in still stronger colours, 
 the universal importance of that event which was then 
 transacting in the world : the account I mean of the 
 journey undertaken by the wise men from the east, 
 in search of that prince whose approaching birth they 
 had been taught to expect, and guided by the star, 
 which led them on rejoicing, till it brought them to the 
 place where he was found. 
 
 The beauty and solemnity of these miraculous occur- 
 rences are greatly enhanced by the plain and homely 
 character of the natural appearances with which they are 
 contrasted, and with which, at the same time, they so 
 harmoniously combine. The mighty event which call- 
 ed down an angel of God to visit the virgin solitude of 
 
The NatwitJj of CJirist. 53 
 
 the daughter of David; which brought the host of hea- 
 ven to speak peace and joy to the simple innocence of 
 shepherds ; which interrupted the calm speculations of 
 the eastern sages, and impelled them to follow a mira- 
 culous sign into a foreign land ; seemed, to all out- 
 ward appearance, to be nothing more than the birth of 
 a child in some of the lowest circumstances of human 
 fortune. " When they tv ere come into the house (says 
 the evangelist, speaking of the wise men), they saw the 
 young child, with Mary his inother.'''' 
 
 It is possible, my brethren, that this simple and un- 
 imposing form in which our Saviour is first presented 
 to us, may operate with some minds to the prejudice of 
 his religion: I shall, therefore, endeavour, in a very few 
 words, to show that, on the contrary, it affords a strong- 
 confirmation of its truth; that it corresponds exactly 
 with the wants and wishes of the human heart; and, 
 finally, that there is a striking coincidence between this 
 first appearance of our Lord, and the whole genius and 
 spirit of Christian it}'. 
 
 In the first place, then, is it possible that any messen- 
 ger from heaven could come before us in circumstances 
 more completely inconsistent with the supposition of 
 artifice or imposture? " IVlien they xv ere come into the 
 house^ they beheld the young chikU with Mary his mo- 
 thery What is there here to excite our most jealous 
 apprehensions, or to afford a grour.d of suspicion to the 
 most vigilant distrust ? Is it possible that, in this sim. 
 pie domestic scene, the seeds of deception should be 
 striking root? Was the mother mingling with her 
 caresses the proud thought that her son was destined to 
 lead after him a deluded world? or was the infant, while 
 
54 The Nativity of Christ, 
 
 he answered to her smiles, dreaming of the enterprise 
 which lay before him? When we behold a dark-mind- 
 ed prophet issuing from the depth of solitudes and de- 
 serts, infusing a lofty enthusiasm into the minds of a bar- 
 barous people, and leading them on to conquest and de- 
 vastation, we, who are beyond the sphere of the delu- 
 sion, can at once affirm, notwithstanding the splendour 
 of his success, that he owed it to hypocrisy and decep- 
 tion. How different the scene here presented to us ! 
 It is humble, and makes no pretensions ; but it finds its 
 way into our souls by the same passages by which truth 
 is conveyed to them. When we are in the presence of 
 *' the young child^ and Mary his mother ^^"^ do not our 
 hearts inform us, that the God of truth is not far from 
 us? 
 
 In the second place, I affirm, that the very humility 
 of this scene is the circumstance to which the human 
 heart must be most attached, however it may disappoint 
 some wandering irregularities of the imagination. When 
 the children of Israel were terrified with those awful 
 manifestations of the divine majesty which accompanied 
 the promulgation of their law, their words were, *' Let 
 me not hear again the voice of the Lord my God, neither 
 let me see this great f re any more, that I die not.'''* This, 
 my brethren, is the language of human nature. Encir- 
 cled by the frailty of the flesh, man is afraid to hold any 
 direct intercourse with the Almighty. It was then that, 
 condescending to the infirmity of his creatures, God 
 said to Moses, " Ixviil raise them up a prophet from 
 among their brethren, like unto thee, and will put my 
 words in his mouth.'*'* What the heart desires in a divine 
 instructor is, that while he has the words of God in his 
 
The Nativity of Christ, 55 
 
 mouth, he should yet be raised from among his brethren 
 of mankind. I need not inform you how remarkably 
 this wish of the human heart is accomplibhed in the 
 whole dispensation of Christianity, or how admirably the 
 character and condition of our Saviour at all times cor- 
 respond with the description of a prophet who, possess- 
 ing the words of the living God, was yet subject to all 
 the feelings and affections of a man, and was often se- 
 verely " touched with a sense of our infrmities/'' I am 
 only at present led to remark to you in what a pleasing 
 manner this circumstance is corroborated by the little 
 simple incident now before us, and the short glimpse 
 afforded us of the infant years of Jesus, while he 
 was yet an inmate in the house of his parents, and be- 
 fore he felt himself called upon to execute the mighty 
 designs for which he was sent into the world. How 
 beautifully is the awful character of a supernatural in- 
 structor, softened down by these means to our hearts 
 and affections ! Can we be afraid of approaching a child ? 
 Is there any thing in the house of Mary which can ex- 
 cite our apprehension and alarm ? 
 
 My third remark was, that there is a very striking 
 coincidence between this first appearance of our Lord, 
 and the whole genius and spirit of Christianity, It is a 
 remarkable characteristic of our religion, that while it is 
 doing every thing for the good of mankind which can 
 be done, it yet seems to be doing nothing. It resides 
 in the hearts of the faithful, and silently influences the 
 conduct of their lives. It flows in a quiet stream 
 through nations and communities of men, and by an un- 
 observed principle of improvement, relines and beau- 
 tifies their manners and institutions. It is secretly, and 
 by slow degrees, bringing in that " better kingdom. 
 
56 The Nativity of Christ. 
 
 wherein dwelleth eternal righteousness ;'''' and yet, to the 
 eyes of the world, every thing seems to be proceeding as 
 it had done from the beginning. With this gentle and 
 unobstrusive form, in which Christianity at all times ap- 
 pears to us, the history of its introduction corresponds. 
 The miracles which then accompanied its progress were 
 exhibited to those only who could feel their value. No 
 vain display of prodigies interrupted the course of na- 
 ture and the business of the world ; no portents of terror 
 shook the world at the descent of its Creator. When 
 the eastern sages came with splendid offerings, in ex- 
 pectation of finding some royal babe, they were intro- 
 duced to the lowly dwelling and the humble group of 
 the text, " the young child, with Mary his mother.'^'' 
 
 Farther, my brethren, Christianity is the religion of 
 love and mercy ; — and, therefore, its Author is first pre- 
 sented to us in the most amiable of all human forms. It 
 is the religion of a pure and simple heart ; — and its Au- 
 thor first appears to us in the very shape and image of 
 simplicity and innocence. " Suffer little children to 
 come unto me (says he), for of such is the kingdom of 
 heaven ;" — and he himself accordingly first comes to us 
 as a little child. When the law was given to the Jews, 
 it was proclaimed with circumstances of terror corre- 
 sponding to the nature of the institution. The voice of 
 God was heard from Mount Sinai, speaking from the 
 thunders and lightnings. The gospel of peace springs 
 up to us from the cradle of an inilint ! — I forbear, my 
 brethren, to pursue these reflections farther. Your own 
 meditations will supply their deficiencies. Pei-mit me 
 rather, before I conclude, to suggest to your thoughts 
 a few observations of a more practical tendency. 
 
The Nativity of Christ, 57 
 
 You are now, then, advancing to the contemplation 
 of a scene altogether heavenly, and glorious, and joyful: 
 no other than the union of heaven and earth, — the de- 
 scent of the First-born from the bosom of his everlast- 
 ing Father into the mortal arms of maternal love. You 
 are advancing to behold whatever is pure, and simple, 
 and wise among men, bending around the cradle of the 
 infant Saviour ; to behold the heavens opening, and a 
 multitude of the heavenly host descending ; and to hear 
 that hymn of praise which has for ever encirclfd the 
 eternal throne, now uniting to the strain of " Glory to 
 God in the highest ^^^ the welcome sounds of " peace o?t 
 earthy and good will towards men."*^ Such are the scenes 
 of moral and celestial beauty which the church is now 
 disclosing to you ; and such the real magnificence, un- 
 polluted by the vain additions of worldly splendour, with 
 which, when she throws open her " everlasting doors ^'''* 
 you behold *' the King of glory enter iny 
 
 Other scenes are indeed behind. You must yet fol- 
 low your Sovereign through his triumphant sufferings, 
 and view him when he is crowned only with thorns, and 
 elevated in agony on the cross. These scenes you are 
 about to anticipate at the altar, and I pray to God thtU: 
 their influence may be felt on every heart. The cross, 
 my brethren, will there remind you, that you have afflic- 
 tions to endure, and sins to be repented of; but it will 
 recal these recollections to your minds, accompanied 
 with the powerful consolation, that one has gone before 
 you who will strengthen you in all your sufferings, and 
 who has obtained for you the remission of your sins. 
 Persevere, therefore, in your Christian profession • let 
 not the cross of Christ be to you a " stumbling-block^^'* 
 
 H 
 
58 The Nativity of Christ. 
 
 or '■^foolishness.'''' When that scene of humiHation is 
 over, you will again behold the glories of heaven un- 
 veiled, and him who bowed his head for your sakes up- 
 on the cross, again rising triumphant from the darkness 
 of the grave ; and you will hear his divine voice calling 
 upon you to follow him, without terror or distrust, 
 through " the valley of the shadoxv of deaths Follow 
 him then in life and in death ; and when all these pre- 
 sent things shall have passed away, and when time shall 
 be no more, you will yet reign with him through the 
 ages of eternity. 
 
 But it is not merely the church, my brethren, which 
 at this time invites us to participate in its joys. Thq 
 world, too, has joys of its own ; and they, I fear, com- 
 monly gain the precedence in our minds. Yet, at this 
 auspicious season, there is one very beautiful link by 
 'which the church and the world are connected. You 
 have it in my text. *' JVhen they were come into the 
 house^ they beheld the young child^ with Mary his mo- 
 ther.'''* Go, then, and enjoy the society of families and 
 friends, the meeting of mothers and their children. Yet 
 go in the spirit of religion, not with the thoughtless in- 
 gratitude of man. Go as the children of God, and ac- 
 knowledge amidst your enjoyments the hand from which 
 they flow ; and, when you look upon the countenances 
 of those Vvhom you love upon earth, breathe the secret 
 prayer that you may yet meet and love them in heaven. 
 
 One farther observation and I have done. The 
 season which brings joy and gladness to us, brings 
 suffering to many of our brethren. The poor, alas ! 
 will too certainly be subjected to inclemency and hard- 
 ship, while we are giving way to mirth and gaiety. Yet 
 
The Nativity of Christ. 59 
 
 you know, that he whose birth you now commemorate, 
 although born a king, came not with the distinctions 
 of rank and fortune : they who went to seek for him 
 found him not surrounded w ith the splendours of roy- 
 alty : they entered into a cottage, and found only a so- 
 litary woman and her child. Go, then, my brethren, 
 but go not to the house of feasting alone ; enter like- 
 wise the dwellings of the poor, and seek there for " the 
 young child^ and Mary his mother.''^ Bring forth there 
 your gifts, and remember to your comfort, tliat inas- 
 much " as ye do good to one of the least of these his 
 brethren^ ye have done it unto him.''"' 
 
SERMON VIII. 
 
 ON MAN AS A RATIONAL AND MORAL BEING. 
 
 JOB, xxxii. 8, 
 
 ^' But there is a spirit in man^ and the inspiration of the 
 Almighty giveth them understanding.'''* 
 
 WHILE it is the object of some philosophical 
 systems to degrade man nearly to a level with the brutes, 
 the sacred writings always represent him as " little 
 lower than the angels.'*'' They affirm, indeed, that he 
 has lost the original purity of his nature ; that he is 
 corrupt and fallen; but this melancholy truth they never 
 enforce with malignant triumph, nor make it the subject 
 of indecent raillery. On the contrary, while they in- 
 form him plainly of the misfortune attending his condi- 
 tion, and of the incalculable evils of which it may be the 
 cause, they console him with the account of those great 
 exertions which divine mercy has made in his behalf, 
 and endeavour to make him keep pace with those exer- 
 tions, by elevating his mind to a sense of what he was, 
 and by bringing before him all those traces of grandeur 
 and excellence in his nature which still, however faintly, 
 shadow out the image of God. " IVhen I considen 
 (says David) the heavensy the work of thy fingers^ the 
 
On Man as a Rational and Moral Being, 61 
 
 fnoon and the stars^ xvhicli thou hast ordained^ what is 
 man that thou art mindful of him^ and tlie son of man 
 that thou visitest htm ? For thou hast made him a little 
 lower than the angels, and hast crowned him with glory 
 and honour. Thou madest him to have dominion over the 
 works of thy hands ; thou hast put all things under his 
 feet.'' 
 
 In discoursing from the text, I propose, first, to as- 
 sert the inherent worthiness of our nature ; and second- 
 ly, to draw practical inferences from the doctrine. 
 
 Under the first head I shall consider man in three 
 views : as a rational, a moral, and a religious being. 
 
 *' There is a spirit in man^ and the inspiratioji of the 
 Almighty giveth him widerstanding.'''' How are we 
 otherwise to account for that superiority which man has 
 acquired over all the other inhabitants of this world ? 
 Inferior in strength to many, passing a long period of 
 weakness and infancy, how has this being been enabled 
 to protect himself from the ferocity of the lion and the 
 tiger? and why are these animals fugitives in the woods, 
 while he is the lord of the earth ? What reason can 
 we give but this, that while the animals follow merel\ 
 the impulses of appetite, and walk in the unvarying road 
 of blind instinct, the mind of man rushes into futurity, 
 and forms innumerable devices for accomplishing its 
 deliberate designs ; that, long before the occasion comes, 
 it has foreseen the plan of conduct, and has supplied, 
 by artificial assistances, the defects of natural strength. 
 Thus, in the lowest conditions of human society, there 
 is always a marked pre-eminence in man over the other 
 .^nimals} in him there arc at all times, however they- 
 may occasionally be clouded mid obscured, indications 
 
62 On Man as a National 
 
 of invention and design ; of a mind possessing in sonie 
 degree a creative energy, and so far resembling that 
 supreme Intelligence which devised the immense as- 
 semblage of existences that compose this prodigious 
 universe. 
 
 The effects of this power in man are by no means 
 small and insignificant. Even in the savage state he 
 builds his hut ; he subdues the beasts of the forest, 
 and assembles about him many simple conveniences. 
 W hile he is yet remote from what we call civilization, 
 the native grandeur of the human mind shows itself in 
 bold exertions of genius ; and, as he proceeds in his ca- 
 reer, man constantly discovers new resources. Into 
 whatever situation he is brought, he brings along with 
 him a mind equal to it ; and "the same creature that, on 
 his first appearance, seemed but ill qualified to contend 
 with the other animals for a precarious subsistence in 
 the woods, is afterwards seen to sit in the palaces of 
 kings; to guide his adventurous prow across the ocean ; 
 to make the earth render him the yearly return of his 
 labour ; to form enlightened plans of policy ; to regulate 
 the deliberations of senates ; to count the number of the 
 stars ; and to reflect on the workings of his own mind. 
 
 Now, what is this power, the effects of which are at 
 all times so much superior to the operations of other ani- 
 mated beings, and which, in the course of ages, seems 
 to separate man from the brutes almost as far as from 
 the trees or from the rocks ? Is it a principle not dif- 
 fering in kind from their regular and constant instincts, 
 although at last it produces these effects by some strange 
 concurrence of accidents ? Or is it not rather, what the. 
 
and Moral Being. 63 
 
 text declares it to be, '* a spirit in man, the inspiration 
 of the Almighty?^'' 
 
 Going on the principles of natural reason, — what, in- 
 deed, is it that produces in our minds a belief of the ex- 
 istence of the supreme God, but the perception that the 
 world which we inhabit bears strong indications of de- 
 sign and intelligence having been employed in its for- 
 mation? It is because we perceive, in this beautiful 
 world, some resemblance to the works of our own hands, 
 that we conclude it to be the contrivance of a Being in 
 some respects like to ourselves. Our connection with 
 God is impressed on our minds by the very proofs which 
 bring us a knowledge of his existence ; and we could 
 not know that there was such a Being, unless we tried 
 his works by the scale of our own reason. 
 
 Examine, on the contrary, what our feelings are when 
 we look to the operations of the lower animals. In their 
 instincts we perceive, no doubt, much curious contri- 
 vance ; but it occurs to us at once, that the contrivance 
 is not their own ; that it proceeds without design on 
 their part ; and that, in fact, they are but a sort of ma- 
 chines in the hands of a superior power. We immedi 
 ately, therefore, perceive that there is a part of our na- 
 ture in which we bear no relation to them ; and in fol- 
 lowing out the proofs of the existence of God, we see 
 that there is a part in his nature in which he must be re- 
 lated to us. That part is reason and intelligence. To 
 this principle we necessarily ascribe all the artifice and 
 contrivance discernible in the order of the universe ; 
 and we are conscious that this is a principle which wc 
 ourselves exert in our most important actions. Thus, 
 from the consideration of his rational powers, man dis- 
 
64 0?! Man as a Rational 
 
 covers one of the ties which bind him to the Father of 
 nature ; one of the analogies which he bears to the most 
 exalted of all Beings ; one strong lineament of that 
 divine image after which he was originally formed. 
 
 The same great truth will appear in a still more strik- 
 ing light, if we proceed to consider man, farther, as a 
 moral being. 
 
 While the other animals follow blindly the impulse of 
 appetite, without discerning the tendency of their ac- 
 tions, there is impressed on the mind of man a rule by 
 which he judges himself, — a sense of right and wrong 
 in conduct, by which he becomes conscious that he is 
 the object either of love and esteem, or of contempt and 
 hatred. While he attends to this monitor within, he is 
 strongly incited to take the good and honourable part, 
 and to spurn at every thing which is unjust, despicable, 
 and shameful. Whenever this ruling principle of his 
 actions obtains a due force in his mind, man at times 
 displays the most estimable qualities, and is evidently a 
 being to be in a high degree respected and loved. What- 
 ever may be the real case of the world in general, yet 
 the many examples with which history, or our own ob- 
 servation may supply us, of men truly and greatly vir- 
 tuous, show clearly what human nature is capable of; 
 what admirable fruits it may bear ; how many traces, 
 in its moral capacity, it may exhibit of the workmanship 
 of the divine hand. And these traces are not confined 
 to any particular ages and countries ; but at all times, 
 and in every region, under all forms of religion and go- 
 vernment, in sava.o-e and in civilized societv, the native 
 goodness of the human heart has had many opportuni- 
 ties of displaying itself. 
 
and Moral Being. 65 
 
 Now, my brethren, let us reflect on tlie very high 
 dignity and importance of this part of our constitution ; 
 how much it elevates us above the other creatures ; 
 how close a connection it forms between us and the 
 Almighty ! Do not our natural feelings assure us, that 
 those qualities which are the objects of esteem, of love, 
 of reverence, are by far the highest and most dignified 
 qualities which any being can possess, and that, with^ 
 out these, all other qualifications are absolutely trivial 
 and insignificant? The moral attributes, therefore, are 
 in fact those alone which command our real veneration 
 in the divine nature itself; for whatever might be the 
 intelligence or the power of the Deity, unless he were 
 also good, \\-Q might, indeed, regard him with fear or 
 wonder, but it is evident we could not reverence or 
 adore him. Reason and intelligence, accordingly, how- 
 ever lofty and sublime a thing it may be, is yet truly ad- 
 mirable and valuable only when it acts in subservience 
 to moral goodness ; and a being who is capable of moral 
 goodness, who has a sense of right and wrong impressed 
 on his mind, evidently possesses, or at least is able to 
 acquire, the highest and most excellent of all possible 
 qualifications. 
 
 What, then, can this part of our nature be, other than 
 " a spirit in many the inspiration oj' the yilmighty ?^^ 
 How are we here exalted above all the other creatures 
 around us, and what kind of philosophy is that which 
 would pretend to account for our moral feelings from 
 any thing which we possess in common with them? 
 How can we derive, except from God himself, except 
 from the spirit which he has breathed into man, any 
 
 I 
 
66 On Man as a Rational 
 
 feeling oi those excellencies, any love for, or any abpira- 
 tion after that goodness which indibputably constitutes 
 his own greatest attribute ? Is not our relationship to 
 the divine nature apparent in this, that we alone, of all 
 the creatures breathing upon the earth, are capable of 
 having any relish of those perfections which alone ren- 
 der God himself the object of worship and love ? 
 
 I should now proceed to consider man as a religi- 
 ous being ; but this branch of the subject, and the prac- 
 tical inferences to be drawn from the whole doctrine, I 
 must defer till a future occasion. I shall only remark 
 farther at present, that inquiries such as those in which 
 we have been engaged, are by no means inconsistent 
 with the business of this place r nor are the reflections 
 in which we have indulged in any respect contrary to 
 the peculiar doctrisies of the Ciiristian faith. Although 
 it is the great object of our religion to represent man as 
 fallen, and as requiring his nature to be renewed, yet 
 this supposes human nature to be originally good, and 
 worthy of the divine care and protection. It supposes 
 the vitiation not to be incurable ; and, therefore, it is 
 highly reasonable, and of important service to religion, 
 to consider what our nature is in itself, independently of 
 the accidental corruption into which it is fallen. It is 
 surely delightful to turn our eyes from the actual vice 
 and folly prevalent in the world, and to discover in the 
 mind of man those fountains of wisdom and goodness 
 which were originally placed there by his Maker, and 
 which still remain, however the waters which have 
 flowed from them !T.ay have been stained and poisoned. 
 As St. Paul, speaking with triumphant exultation of 
 
and Moral Behig. 67 
 
 his npostolic mission says, '' I magnify my office^'''' so, 
 1 believe, it is the part of a good man to magiiify his na- 
 ture ; and the higher estimation he ibrms of that, the 
 more will he rec^ret all those faihires in his own con- 
 duct, v.hich bring disgrace on a work at first so admira. 
 biy framed. 
 
SERMON IX. 
 
 ox MAN AS A RELIGIOUS BEING, 
 
 JOB, xxxii. 8. 
 
 ^' But there is a spirit in man^ and the impiratio?i of the 
 Almighty giveth them understanding.^'' 
 
 IN discoursing on a former occasion from these 
 ^votds, I called your attention to two striking views of 
 human nature, and contemplated the dignity of man as 
 a rational and moral being. As possessed of reason, 
 he claims a decided superiority over all the other in- 
 habitants of this globe, and carries about with him a 
 principle which bears an affinity to that supreme Intel- 
 ligence from which the universe itself proceeded. As 
 endowed with moral perception and sentiment, he is 
 capable of acquiring qualities the most estimable and 
 amiable ; and exhibits traces of that goodness which, 
 in its perfect form, we ascribe to God as his most 
 glorious attribute. In each of these aspects, therefore, 
 we discover the connection between m.an and his Crea- 
 tor, and are prepared to say, with Moses, that " God 
 made man after his own itnage.^^ 
 
 There is still another feature of our nature, my bre- 
 thren, in which this lofty relationship is still more strong- 
 ly expressed. The connection not ciily exists ; but it 
 
Oil Man as a Religious Being. 69 
 
 is felt : man has not only received understanding from 
 the inspiration of the Almighty, but he knows that it is 
 so; and he is prompted by nature to lift up his thoughts 
 to the contemplation of that great Being who conferred 
 upon him so high a pre-eminence. It is here that we 
 lind in the mind of man something inexpressibly sub- 
 lime, something that elevates him far above all that is 
 little and perishing upon earth, and connects him by the 
 ties of the heart with the eternal Ruler of the heavens. 
 
 This principle it is which distinguishes us from the 
 lower animals, even more than our reason or our moral 
 perceptions. In their operations, something like reason 
 may perhaps at times be found ; and if not moral feel- 
 ing, yet kind aficction ; but religion is the grand pre- 
 rogative of man. He alone, of all the creatures which 
 inhabit the earth, lifts his eye to heaven ; and while he 
 deigns not to hold any intercourse with the beasts of 
 the field, he yet thinks it not presumption to address 
 himself to the unknown God. Wherever man exists, 
 there, too, you will find religion. You will find states 
 of society in tlie lowest and most abject condition, as 
 far as mental improvement, or the comforts of life are 
 concerned ; but where will you not find the worshipper 
 and the temple ? 
 
 In vain have some sceptical reasoners endeavoured to 
 throw a cloud over this beautiful fact, bv collectiii<>: into 
 one view all the follies of superstition ; and thus at- 
 tempting to show that the religion of man is rather a 
 proof of the weakness than of the loftiness of his nature. 
 The extravagancies of superstition are indeed a perplex- 
 ing scene ; and it must be owned, that the vices and 
 follies of man have shown themselves as frequently in 
 
70 On Man as a Religious Being, 
 
 the midst of his religions sentiments as in any other 
 part of his character. Yet the perversions of religion 
 ought never to be treated in a light and careless strain ; 
 they are rather objects of pity : or, if any thing like 
 scorn should be applied to them, it ought to be mingled 
 with that deep indignation and regret, with which the 
 strong colouring of the prophet Isaiah exposes the ido- 
 latry of the nations. 
 
 " They that make a graven image (says he) are all 
 of them vanity^ and their delectable things shall not pro- 
 Jit, and they are their own witnesses; they see not, nor 
 know, that they may he ashamed- Who hath formed a 
 God, or molten a graven image that is profitable for no- 
 thing? Behold all his fellows shall be ashamed : and the 
 workmen they are of men : let them all be gathered to- 
 gether, let them stand up: yet they shall fear, and they 
 shall be ashamed together. The smith with the tongs, 
 both worketh in the coals, and fashioneth it with ham- 
 mers, and worketh it with the strength of his arms ; yea^ 
 he is hungry, and his strength faileth; lie drink eth no 
 water, and is faint. The carpenter stretcheth out his 
 rule, he marketh it out with a line, he fitteth it with 
 planes, ufid he marketJi it out with a compass, and 
 maketh it after the figure of a man, according to 
 the beauty of a 7nan, that it may remain in the house. 
 He heweth him down cedars, and taketh the cypress 
 and the oak, which he strengtheneth for himself 
 among the trees of the forest ; he plantcth an ash, and 
 the rain doth nourish it. Then shall it be for a man to 
 hum ; for he will take thereof and warm himself; yea, 
 he kindletli it and baketh bread ; yea^ he maketh a god 
 and worshippetJi it, he maketh it a graven image, and 
 
On Man as a Religious Being. 71 
 
 falleth down thereto. He burnetii part thereof in the 
 
 Jire ; with part thereof he eateth fesh ; he roasteth 
 roast and is satisfied; yea, he warmeth himself and saith, 
 Aha. I am warm, I have seen the fire. And the residue 
 thereof he maketh a god, even his graven image : he 
 
 falleth down unto it, and xvorshippeth it. and pray eth 
 unto it, and saith. Deliver me. for tJwu art my god. 
 They have not known nor understood, for he hath shut 
 their eyes that they cannot see, and their hearts that 
 they cannot understand. And none considereth in his 
 heart, neither is there knowledge nor understanding to 
 say, T have burnt part of it in the fire; yea, also, I have 
 baked bread upon the coals thereof: I have roasted fiesh 
 and eaten it, and shall I make the residue tliereof an 
 abomination ? shall I fall down to the stock of a tree ? 
 He feedetli of ashes : a deceived heart hath turned him 
 aside, that he cannot deliver his soul, nor say, Is there 
 not a lie in my right hand?'''* Is. Chap. xliv. 
 
 No doubt, my brethrtn, however degrading it may 
 be, this is but too true a picture; and man, unenlighteu- 
 
 ■ cd by revelation, instead of discovering " the invisible 
 things of God, which, from the creation of the world^ 
 are clearly seen, being understood by the things that are 
 
 _ made,'''* man has at all times " changed the glory of the 
 uncorruptible God into an image made like to corruptible 
 man, and to birds, and four-footed beasts, and creeping 
 things.'*'' Yet, whatever may be the cause of this error, 
 whether his ignorance may partly excuse it, or the cor- 
 
 'ruption of his nature may necessarily infuse into all his 
 conceptions of the Deity something that is debasing, 
 and trivial, and low ; — however we are to account for 
 such superstitious delusions, still it is plain that man must 
 
72 On Man as a Religious Being. 
 
 find a God ; and if a " deceived heart hath turned him 
 aside that he cannot deliver his soul, nor say. Is there not 
 a lie in my right hand?^^ he will yet rather fall down to 
 the stock of a tree, than want an opportunity of giving 
 scope to the religious sentiments of his nature. 
 
 In fiict, therefore, the histories of human superstition, 
 although they contain many indications of the inability 
 of man to work out for himself any regular and consist- 
 ent scheme of religion, without assistance from above, 
 yet prove more strongly than even the best constructed 
 systems of natural religion, that he is by nature a re- 
 ligious being ; that, in the lowest and most degraded 
 condition of savage life, he yet hears a voice which calls 
 him to worship and adore ; and where is the wonder if, 
 in the perplexity of his thoughts, he should rather be- 
 lieve that the object of his devotion was to be found in 
 the wind, in the earthquake, or in the fire, than in the 
 " still small voice'' ^ which speaks from the majestic har- 
 mony of nature ? Were religion only to be found as it 
 is discovered by reason, there might be some pretext 
 for saying that it is a beautiful invention of philosophers ; 
 but when we discover it in every shape ; operating in 
 some measure wherever human beings exist; twisted, so 
 to speak, with the cords of their hearts ; what can we 
 conclude, but that it was originally intervv'oven with 
 these by him who formed them ? 
 
 Here, then, likewise, my brethren, we perceive " the 
 spirit in man^ the inspiration of the Almighty :'''' a spirit, 
 indeed, clouded and obscured, struggling with dark- 
 ness, and fettered by sin, yet aiming at lofty things, 
 and striving to regain some glimpses of that divine 
 
On Man as a Religious Being, 73 
 
 form, which was accustomed to walk Avitli man while 
 3'^et in the garden of primaeval innocence *. 
 
 * These observations were suggested to me by the following pro- 
 found and eloquent passage in Mr. Stewart's " Elements of the 
 Philosophy of the Human Mind," for the length of wliich I need 
 make no apology. After quoting some passages from Mr. Hume, 
 Mr, Stewart proceeds as follows : " What is the infei'ence to which 
 we are led by tiiese observations ? Is it (to use the words of this 
 ingenious writer) tliat the wliole is a riddle, an enigma, an inex- 
 plicable mystery, and that doubt, uncertainly, and suspense, appear 
 the only result of our most accurate scrutiny concerning this sub- 
 ject? Or should not rather the melancholy histories which he has 
 exhibited of the follies and caprices of superstition, direct our atten- 
 tion to those sacred and indelible characters on the human mind, 
 which all these perversions of reason are unable to obliterate ; like 
 that image of himself, which Phidias wished to perpetuate, by 
 stamping it so deeply on the buckler of his Minerva, " ut nemo 
 delcre possit aut divellere qui lotam statuam non imminueret." In 
 truth, the more striking the contradictions, and the more ludicrous 
 the ceremonies to which the pride of human reason has thus been 
 reconciled, the stronger is our evidence that religion has a founda- 
 tion in the nature of man. When the greatest of modern philoso- 
 phers* declares, that " he would rather believe all the fables in the 
 Legend, and the Talmud, and the Alcoran, than that this universal 
 frame is without mind ;" he has expressed the same feeling which 
 in all ages and nations has led good men, unaccustomed to reason- 
 ing, to an implicit faith in the creed of their infancy ; a feeling 
 which affords an evidence of the existence of the Deity, incompara- 
 bly more striking than if, unmixed with error, and undeljased with 
 superstition, this most important of all principles had commanded 
 the universal assent of mankind. Where are the other truths, in 
 the whole circle of the sciences, which are so essential to human 
 iiappincss as to procure an easy access, not only for themselves, but 
 
 * Lord Bacon, in his Essays. 
 K 
 
74 On Man as a Religious Being. 
 
 Upon this subject I will only remark farther, that, as 
 a religious being, man assumes a character of import- 
 ance to which no bounds can be placed. When his 
 thoughts rise to the contemplation of God, he is like- 
 wise led to anticipate that continuance of existence 
 in himself which he necessarily ascribes to the Deity. 
 Reason might be doomed to perish ; virtue itself might 
 be lost for ever in the dust ; but faith looks beyond 
 mortality, and beholds scenes of grandeur and glory 
 opening before its eye, which have no termination, and 
 are darkened by no cloud. I am sensible, my brethren, 
 that I cannot do justice to this lofty feature in man, this 
 part of his nature which indeed " covers him with glory 
 and honour.''^ I leave it, therefore, to your own medi- 
 
 for whatever opinions may happen to be blended with them r 
 Where are the truths so venerable and commanding, as to impart 
 their own subHmity to every trifling memorial which recals them to 
 our remembrance ; to bestow solemnity and elevation on every mode 
 of expression by which tiiey are conveyed; and which, in whatever 
 scene they have habitually occupied the thoughts, consecrate every 
 object which it presents to our senses, and the very ground we have 
 been accustomed to tread? To attempt to weaken the authority of 
 such impressions, by a detail of the endless variety of forms which 
 they derive from casual associations, is surely an employment un- 
 suitable to the dignity of philosophy. To the vulgar it may be 
 amusing in this, as in other instances, to indulge their wonder at 
 what is new or uncommon; but to the philosopher it belongs to per- 
 ceive, under all these various disguises, the workings of the same 
 common nature ; and in the superstitions of Egypt, no less than in 
 the lofty visions of Tlato, to recognise the existence of those moral 
 ties which unite the heart of man to the Author of his being." — 
 Elements of the Philosophy of the Human Mind. — Second Ed. p. 
 368 — 370. 
 
On Man as a Religious Being. 75 
 
 tationa, and shall close the whole subject of discourse 
 with some reflections of a practical tendency. 
 
 First, then, I address myself to due young, to those 
 who, in this seat of liberal education, have perhaps been 
 lately engaged with inquiries and studies which have 
 enlarged the capacity of dicir minds, and opened an un- 
 limited range to the natural freedom of their thoughts. 
 To their ardent eyes have been unveiled the secret 
 laws of an orderly universe ; and they have beheld, with 
 equal admiration, the magnificent fabric of the human 
 mind. From such studies, conducted as they hitherto 
 have been, they must have arisen with no mean impres- 
 sions of the dignity of that intellectual nature which 
 could thus be employed ; and their own experience must 
 have told them, that there are speculations which the hu- 
 man understanding can reach, and which yet seem 
 adapted to a being but " a little lower than the angels.'^'' 
 Let them, therefore, retain these exalted feelings, and 
 conduct all their future inquiries with a becoming reve- 
 rence for the nature to which they belong. The advice 
 is not unseasonable ; for I Ijelieve it will be discovered, 
 that all those monstrous perversions of opinion wid\ 
 which the present times abound, may be traced to the 
 vanity of individuals, who, forgetting their real dignity 
 as men, have sought for a despicable celebrity, by start- 
 ing out from their species, and aftecting some sort of 
 private and incommunicable perfection of intelligence. 
 From this source, especially, has flowed that torrent of 
 declamation and folly which has been poured out on the 
 subject of religious belief, a subject with resi>ec^to ■ 
 which it is certainly the duty of those who have oppoi-- 
 tunity to ^^ prove all things ;^'' but it is still more their 
 
76 On Man as a Religious Being. 
 
 duty, to " holdfast that which is good,^^ In such in- 
 quiries the young naturally attach themselves to those 
 in whose wisdom they can confide ; and it has unfortu- 
 nately happened, that the champions of infidelity in our 
 age have had something specious and liberal in their 
 manner : 
 
 But all is false and hollow, tho' their tongues 
 Drop manna, and can make the worse appear 
 The better reason for their thoughts are low- 
 In tlic second place, the contemplation of the high 
 rank which man holds in the scale of beings, ought to 
 make us all more deeply sensible of the value and im- 
 })ortance of Christianity, which has brought immorta- 
 lity to light, and has made all the future prospects of the 
 liuman race correspond with whatever is great in their 
 their present condition. 
 
 There is a voice in every breast which assures us, 
 that we are formed ;;fter no mean model ; that man does 
 not occupy a common place in the theatre of nature ; 
 and that there is a spirit in him superior to that of the 
 beasts which perish. Corresponding to this natural im- 
 pression, the revelation of Christ informs us of lofty 
 things. It tells us that the only Son of God took upon 
 him the nature, not of angels, but of man ; and that, 
 after having lived and died for the good of his brethren 
 of mankind, he opened up to them the gates of immor- 
 tality. These, my brethren, are great discoveries ; yet 
 they are discoveries which we are prepared by nature to 
 receive. They are discoveries of boundless beneficence 
 in God ; yet of a beneficence which man has at all times 
 experienced, and which, in these revelations, has only 
 
On Ma?i as a Religious Being, 77 
 
 completed a work which would otherwise have appeared 
 imperfect. Be it our part, therefore, to embrace, with 
 thankful and believing hearts, those glad tidings of 
 salvation ; and, fixing our eyes on " the author mid 
 finisher of our faith,''^ to behold exemplified in him the 
 real greatness and dignity of man. 
 
 Finally, let us remember, that although man is made 
 " but a little lower than the angels ^''^ he may yet fall into 
 the lowest degradation ; and v\ hether we look around 
 us, or into our own hearts, let us be aware that we shall 
 too often see and feel corruptions which are unworthy 
 of the nature which we have received. One thing, and 
 one alone, can reduce, and has reduced this lofty nature 
 to the basest condition : — Not poverty, not disease, not 
 death, — but sin. If, then, we would in any degree se- 
 cure the honours of our being, there is one exertion in 
 which we ought strenuously to labour, — the exertion of 
 virtue. This is our true occupation, that v.hich of all 
 others is suited to a being whose spirit is the inspiration 
 of the Almighty. " Whatsoever things^ therefore^ arc 
 true^ whatsoever things are honest, rvhatscever things 
 are just ^ whatsoever things are pure, wliatsoever things 
 are lovely, whatsoever things are of good report ; if there 
 be any virtue^ and if there be airy praise, think on these 
 things — those things xvhich ye have both learned and re- 
 ceived, and heard and seen, do, and the God cf peace 
 shall be with you.'*'' 
 
SERMON X. 
 
 PROOFS OF IMMORTALITY FROM REASON. 
 
 II TIM. i. 10. 
 
 ^' ^nd hath brought life and immortaiiti/ to light through 
 the gospeU^ 
 
 FROM these words it is not meant to be inferred, 
 that, independently of the gospel, men have no intima- 
 tions of a future state, but only that these intimations 
 are dark and obscure, and that our Saviour brought this 
 important truth into full light and certainty. On a point 
 of so much consequence, it is useful to collect proofs 
 from every quarter, from natural reason as well as from 
 revelation; and, indeed, it is only by comparing together 
 those different sources of information, that we can justly 
 appreciate the value of that knowledge with which Chris- 
 tianity has supplied us. 
 
 Let us then begin with the light of nature, and see 
 how far it will lead us to the sublime conclusion, that 
 we are immortal beings ; that this life is but the pas- 
 sage to another ; and that the grave, with all its horrors, 
 is the gate which opens on an eternal world. 
 
 Consider, first, the universality of this belief; that, in 
 some shape or other, it is to be found among all na- 
 
Proofs of Immortality^ ^c. 79 
 
 tions ; that men have ahvays looked beyond the tomb, 
 and have never been able to reconcile themselves to the 
 notion, that death was the eternal termination of their 
 existence. Whence this belief ? How should so pro- 
 digious a supposition have fastened itself so closely to 
 the mind of a being who is only of yesterday, and who 
 to-morrow may be laid in the dust ? What is there in 
 this span of life, which could thus lead us to presume 
 on an eternity ? From a scene which promises so little, 
 whence should those mighty expectations arise ? 
 
 In vain will it be said, that man is at all times chi- 
 merical ; that his imagination is ever stretching beyond 
 the real state of his condition ; that he hopes and fears 
 he knows not what ; and that no regular conclusions can 
 be drawn from the extravagant opinions into which he 
 runs. Man, no doubt, is subject to many illusions of 
 the fancy, and perhaps seldom sees any truth clearly 
 and as it is ; yet it is a maxim of the wise, that no opin- 
 ion can gain a steady and permanent footing in the hu- 
 man mind, which has not some foundation in reality, 
 with whatever errors it may happen to be mixed. Ac- 
 cordingly, the universal belief of men is considered to 
 be a good argument in proof of the existence of God, 
 although, no doubt, the most extravagant and foolish no- 
 tions have in all ages and countries connected them- 
 selves with that belief. The truth is, that all opinions 
 which refer to religion point at something so far above 
 the condition of man in this world, that it is impossible 
 to conceive how his attention should ever have been at 
 all turned to such speculations, unless it were from the 
 voice of nature speaking within him. How should a 
 being who begins in weakness and childhood, who pass- 
 
80 Proofs, of Immortality 
 
 es liis best days in toil and anxiety, and who, at last, 
 decays in old age, — how should such a being ever lift 
 his thoughts to the great overruling Intelligence, whose 
 unceasing watchfulness regulates the government of 
 worlds ? How should he carry his presumption so far, 
 as to believe that he shall participate in that eternal ex- 
 istence which he ascribes to God ? The human imagi- 
 nation is indeed extravagant ; but if this opinion were 
 not founded in nature and truth, it would be such a 
 pitch of extravagance, that it could never have derived 
 the smallest plausibility from the most beautiful coloiir- 
 ing of the most fanciful poet. How, then, should there 
 be *' no speech nor language where its voice is not 
 heard F^"* 
 
 But, secondly, this opinion, that the soul is immortal, 
 does not rest merely on a vague and unaccountable be- 
 lief; there are many circumstances which strongly con- 
 firm it. Man perceives that he has faculties greatly 
 above his condition here. The great ends of human 
 existence in this world might be answered by the ope- 
 ration of those instincts which belong to the brutes. 
 The lower animals live, continue their species, taste of 
 the enjoyments which life aifords, and then sink quietly 
 into the dust from which they were taken. Why should 
 man have the faculty of reason, if this part of his nature 
 is destined to perish ? What are the mightj' operations 
 in which that faculty is employed here, that could not, 
 in many instances, be performed more fully by the in- 
 stincts of the lower animals ? They all know the me- 
 thods of acquiring their food, of forming their places of 
 shelter, of defending themselves from their enemies, and 
 every thing besides that is requisite for their well-being. 
 
from Reason, 81 
 
 Man knows none of those things from nature, l^t is 
 gifted with a power by which he acquires that kno'.^ ledge 
 for himself. Yet he feels that this power is much more 
 important in itself than in its effects, and that none of 
 the uses to which he can now apply it are adequate to its 
 extent and capacity. He feels that he is in possession 
 of a faculty to whose operations his fancy can set no 
 bounds, which is adapted for every part of the universe 
 equally with this world in which he exists at present, 
 and which he cannot conceive doomed to perish, as long 
 as the universe itself is under the guidance of reason. 
 
 But the principal argument which has at all times led 
 men to the belief of a future state, has been founded on 
 the observation of the imperfect distribution of rewards 
 and punishments in this life; of the misfortunes to which 
 the good are subjected, and the frequent prosperity of 
 the wicked. No one who believes in the existence of 
 a supreme Governor of dpe universe, can entertain a 
 doubt that virtue is agreeable, and that vice is hateful to 
 him ; that he loves those who persevere in the ways of 
 righteousness ; and that he looks with abhorrence on the 
 workers of iniquity. It is therefore reasonable to ex- 
 pect, that he will reward the one, and punish the other ; 
 that the riehteous will be exalted to honour, and that the 
 wicked will be brought low and debased. There are, 
 in the present course of God's providence, many intima- 
 tions that such is the plan of his proceedings : the good 
 are certainly even now happier than the wicked, and are 
 also, for the most part, more certainly and substantially 
 prosperous ; but still there are very great exceptions to 
 this general rule ; and one thing is evident, that there is 
 never an exact proportion observed between u man's 
 
 L 
 
82 Proofs of Immortality 
 
 meri^ and his fortune. Nothing, indeed, can be clearer, 
 than that the present life can, in no way, be reckoned a 
 state of retribution. A state of trial it is, and frequently 
 the virtue of good men is tried with great severity ; but 
 if there is no future state of retribution, the trial would 
 be in vain. This observation naturally suggests the be- 
 lief, that in this world we see nothing more than the be- 
 ginning of the divine government ; that the evils per- 
 mitted to fall on the good are designed to try their faith, 
 and to strengthen their virtuous habits ; while the ad- 
 vantages enjoyed by the wicked are merely delusive, and 
 will not at all exempt them from meeting at last with 
 the punishment which is their due. 
 
 Suppose the present life to be our all, and certainly the 
 higher exertions of virtue have no adequate motive. It 
 would be sufficient to live with that decency and atten- 
 tion to character which are necessary for our peace and 
 security among men. A nglta who would give up any 
 pleasure, or worldly good, for the sake of virtue, would 
 be a loser by the exchange. Or, granting that virtue 
 is always in a great measure its own reward, yet why 
 should a good man suffer any thing? Why should not 
 a marked distinction be made between him and the 
 wicked ? Why should the good ever have grounds for 
 complaining, with David, " that theij have cleansed their 
 heart in vain, and washed their hands in innocency ; for 
 all day long have they been plagued, arid chastened every 
 morning?'''' — Why should they have occasion to be 
 *' envious at the foolish, xvhen they see the prosperity 
 of the wicked,'''' that " they are not in trouble as other 
 men, neither are they plagued like other men; therefore^ 
 pride compasseth them about as a chain, violence cover- 
 
from Reason, 83 
 
 eth them as a garment /"' And what other explana- 
 tion can be given to this strange appearance in the 
 administration of God, except that which the psalmist 
 declares that he found? " When I thought to know this 
 (he says), if was too painjid for me ; until I xvent into 
 the sanctuary of God: — then understood I their end. 
 Surely thou didst set them in slippery places ; thou call- 
 edst them down into destruction ! How are they brought 
 into desolation as in a moment ! They are utterly con- 
 sumed with terrors. Nevertheless^ I am continually with 
 thee^ thou hast holden me by my right hand. TJioii 
 shalt guide me with thy counsel^ and afterwards receive 
 me to glory.'''* 
 
 In confirmation of this argument, the fears of bad 
 men and the liopes of the good are circumstances of no 
 inconsiderable weight. In the midst of the greatest 
 worldly prosperity, and while there are no grounds of 
 apprehension from men, giiy should it so frequently 
 happen that a bad man has no peace of mind? Why 
 should he fear where no fear is ? Why should consci- 
 ence take the alarm when every thing conspires to lull 
 him into security? A great crime may be committed 
 so secretly, that the perpetrator shall have no sort of 
 reason for apprehending detection. Why, then, may he 
 not live out his life in quietness; and when death at last 
 comes to release him from the world, why should he not 
 sink into the bosom of the earth without apprehension 
 or dismay? Why, but because he feels that his guilt 
 has not been hid from every eye ; that One has seen it, 
 from whom alone it was of importance that it should be 
 concealed ; and that the stroke of death will not termi- 
 nate his existence, but will send him trembling into the 
 
84 Proofs of Immortality 
 
 presence of his Judge ? This apprehension alone can 
 account for the intolerable agonies which accompany 
 remorse. When a bad man is seized with this appre- 
 hension, he then feels, like Cain, that " his punishment 
 is greater than he can bear.'''* Hence it is, that exam- 
 ples have been found of men who, pursued by the ter- 
 rors of conscience, have openly declared to the world 
 crimes which would otherwise never have been dis- 
 covered ; and have submitted to punishment in this 
 world, with the secret hope that their guilt would thus, 
 in some measure, be expiated in the sight of Heaven, 
 
 The hopes of good men, under the greatest depres- 
 sion of outward misfortunes, point likewise at this great 
 truth. When a good man is forsaken by the world, 
 and is subjected to the miseries of poverty and the loss 
 of friends, he still finds something within which brings 
 him consolation. It is not merely a good conscience, 
 but it is hope founded on a fjj^od conscience. He has an 
 internal assurance, that however melancholy his present 
 condition may be, there yet is something good in store 
 for him. This hope enables him to bear up, and 
 carries him in triumph through the storms of the world. 
 Whence is this hope ? is it a delusion, or is it an as- 
 surance from one who cannot lie ? 
 
 Such, my brethren, seem to be the observations 
 which, in all ages of the world, have led men to con- 
 clude, that their existence does not close with the pre- 
 sent scene of things. To some these observations may 
 appear quite satisfactory, and that the subject did not 
 require any farther light to be thrown on it ; but to 
 others they may appear to be merely presumptions, 
 and, after all, not very strong. If they do not strike the 
 
from Reason. 85 
 
 mind in a peculiar manner, their force may not be per- 
 ceived. There was, therefore, still room left for a reve- 
 lation on this important point ; and such a revelation 
 has been made through the gospel. The evidence for 
 the truth of our resurrection, founded on the gospel, is 
 extremely simple. It rests on the assurances of our 
 Saviour, confirmed by his own resurrection from the 
 dead. To these points I will beg leave, on a future 
 occasion, to call your attention. 
 
SERMON XL 
 
 PROOFS OF IMMORTALITY FROM REVELATION. 
 
 II TIM. i. 10. 
 
 " A7id hath brought life and immor'taUty to light through 
 the gospel.''^ 
 
 IN a former discourse, my brethren, I brought 
 into one view some of the most striking observations 
 which have, in every age, led men to conclude that their 
 existence does not terminate with the present scene of 
 mortality. To some, perhaps, such observations might 
 seem to be of little value, since we are now happily in 
 possession of a much surer ground of confidence upon 
 this point than the unassisted light of nature can sup- 
 ply. Yet it is at least a pleasing meditation to contem- 
 plate the mind of man, even in its rudest condition, an- 
 ticipating in some degree those sublime truths which it 
 was left for the gospel clearly to reveal ; and it must be 
 prateful to the Christian to hear the sound of that voice, 
 v/hich has everywhere cried in the wilderness of the 
 world, " Prepare ye the way of the Lord^ make his paths 
 straight.'''* 
 
 It is in this view, as something preparatory to the in- 
 formation afforded us by revelation, that it is chiefly in- 
 teresting and important to examine the natural evidences 
 
Proofs of Immortality^ tsfc. 87 
 
 of our immortality. Tliere is, however, a prejudice to 
 which such an inquiry may sometimes give rise, which 
 it shall now be my business to obviate. The inquirer 
 into the proofs of natural rehgion may perhaps be so well 
 satisfied with the result of his investigation, that he may 
 think it of little importance to search farther, or to ex- 
 amine the pretensions of any particular revelation. As 
 this is a prejudice which not unfrequently leads into a 
 very wide field of error and delusion, I believe it will 
 not be a useless employment to trace the fallacy which 
 lurks under it. 
 
 In the first place, then, admitting, what I am much 
 disposed to believe, that the evidences of our immorta- 
 lity from reason are fitted to produce the highest degree 
 of conviction on the minds of those who will candidly 
 weigh them : still the philosopher ought not to judge of 
 men in general from himself, or suppose that a revela- 
 tion is unnecessary for the instruction of the human 
 race, because it may be so to a few individuals. The 
 natural sentiments of all men, indeed, point to some state 
 of existence beyond the grave ; and you can never 
 banish from the human heart the hopes and the fears of 
 futurity ; but, except among a few inquirers of deeper 
 reflection than the rest, these sentiments exist only in a 
 rude and untutored form ; and men will cling with 
 eagerness to every source of information, true or false, 
 by which they may be rendered more satisfactory and 
 distinct. 
 
 Thus we find the religion of the great body of man- 
 kind to be always something more than their natural 
 sentiments, and to consist, in all appearance, rather of 
 what they are taught, than of what they feel to be true. 
 
88 Proofs of Immortality 
 
 It is in this manner we may account for the wonderful 
 progress of superstition among men, and for the readi- 
 ness with which every story, however monstrous and 
 extravagant, is Hstened to, that seems to give any insight 
 into the mysteries of the unseen world. Nature, in- 
 deed, prompts men to look beyond the grave ; but she 
 carries most men no farther than the desire, and leaves 
 them to found a faith which they must have, not upon 
 the conclusions of reason, but upon any pretension or 
 imposture which is thrown in their way. 
 
 Now, my brethren, is it unreasonable to suppose that 
 the Father of men should take pity upon the mighty 
 multitude of his rational creatures who wander " as 
 sheep having no shepherd^'''' and that he should give them 
 an instructor from himself to lead them right, when of 
 themselves they cannot but go wrong ? If it be said, 
 let the wise instruct the ignorant ; — alas ! have the vota- 
 ries of human wisdom any pretensions by which they 
 may enforce belief? and has it not, in all ages, been 
 found, that the only instruction to which men will listen 
 on the lofty concerns of other worlds, must seem to 
 come from wisdom superior to that of man ? The an- 
 cient philosophers and legislators were frequently oblig- 
 ed to pretend that they possessed communication with 
 Heaven ; for they knew well, that more than a mortal 
 voice was required to enforce the profound truths of 
 immortality. 
 
 But, secondly, my brethren, may we not be permit- 
 ted to suspect that, upon this head, philosophers some- 
 times deceive themselves ; and that the faith which they 
 place in the doctrine of immortal life, however firmly it 
 may rest on arguments from reason, is yet not a little 
 
from Revelation, 89 
 
 supported in their minds by principles of which they 
 are not so well aware. The most pious of the heathen 
 philosophers did not shake off entirely their belief in the 
 superstitions of their age, but were led often to think 
 and feel like the least instructed of dieir countrymen. 
 Among all the foliies of the superstitions which sur- 
 rounded them, they were yet willing to believe that re- 
 velations held been given to the human race ; and they 
 scarcely were arrived at so much confidence in the con- 
 clusions of their own reason as not to wish at least that 
 some revelation might be given. If there is really any 
 man in modern times, who, without faith in Christianity, 
 still possesses a firm conviction of his immortality, I 
 will venture to affirm, that the faith of that man is sup- 
 ported in no small degree by the existence of Christiani- 
 ty everywhere around him; and, if he saw not the mul- 
 titude going to the house of God, he would have less 
 assurance than he now feels, that there is an eternal 
 house to which all the true worshippers of God will one 
 day go. 
 
 What are philosophers ? Wise men, certainly, if they 
 are really philosophers ; yet they are but men^ and, 
 like others, subject to doubt, despondency, and error. 
 .1 W 11 reason do every thing for them ? Does it leave no 
 room for the apprehension of mistake ; and, on a point 
 which involves so deep an interest, is it not of impor- 
 tance " to make assurance doubly sure ?" In truth, 
 my brethren, it seems to be the intention of Providence 
 tliat, upon this great subject of religion, no man shall 
 take it upon him to say that, by the mere force of rea- 
 son, he shall reach any station much higher than is pos- 
 sessed by the surrounding multitude of his feliow-crea- 
 
 M 
 
90 Proofs of Immortality 
 
 tures ; that he shall ever have any sound pretence to 
 suppose hhnself above the necessity of divine instruc- 
 tion ; or that he shall say with impunity to the Most 
 High, " I seek not from thee any addition to the light of 
 my oxvn mi?id.^^ This age has exhibited, what no suc- 
 ceeding age will forget, the melancholy consequences 
 which have followed from this proud independence of 
 understanding, among men too of no common sagacity ; 
 and we have beheld the tremendous spectacle, of geni- 
 us and science beeinninsr with the disbelief of revela- 
 tion, and not settling in any sound system of natural 
 faith ; but gradually obliterating from the human heart 
 every sentiment of piety, and bringing nothing in its 
 stead but the coldness of sceptical indifference, or the 
 monstrous perversions of determined atheism. 
 
 In the third place, my brethren, I remark that, upon 
 this subject, men require more information than of the 
 mere fact of their immortality. Of itself immortality is 
 scarcely to be wished, unless it is accompanied with the 
 prospect of happiness ; and there are some circumstan- 
 ces in the present condition of man which cloud the 
 prospect of futurity to the eye of nature. The ver)' cir- 
 cumstance of death throws a shade upon the scene be- 
 yond the grave ; and a doubt suggests itself to the mind 
 of unenlightened men, how far the state of being to 
 which he is hastening is a condition to be desired ? 
 The vulgar opinion of the state of the soul after death, 
 prevalent in the heathen world, was by no means a 
 pleasing one ; and the spirits of the departed, instead of 
 being advanced to a higher sphere of existence, were 
 commonly supposed to look back with regret on the en- 
 joyments which they had left behind in this world. 
 
from Revelation* 91 
 
 Men of thought and reflection, indeed, might attain a 
 different and a truer conception, and might collect, from 
 contemplating the attributes of God, that, in the untried 
 state of being to which they were advancing, those who 
 performed well their part here, Avould be elevated to a 
 higher scene. Yet who are good, and what allowances 
 are to be made for the frailties and imperfections incident 
 to the best men ? And must the wicked be consigned 
 to despair ? Must they be abandoned by the mercy of 
 God, as well as by the pride of human virtue ? Is no 
 prospect to be afforded them of grace and pardon ? Shall 
 no assurance be made to the penitent sinner, that he too 
 will be received? and, even although he should abandon 
 his sins, must conscience continue to terrify him by the 
 recital of his former iniquities ? — These, my brethren, 
 are questions to which unassisted reason can make no 
 accurate reply, none at least sufficient to satisfy the feel- 
 ings of the heart. The best men require some positive 
 assurances to keep their hopes from sinking amidst the 
 consciousness of their many infirmities; and the return- 
 ing penitent longs for some promise, some sure pledge 
 of forgiveness. 
 
 Such, then, is the dark condition in which we are left 
 by nature on this important inquiry : let us now ex- 
 amine what light has been thrown upon it by the 
 gospel. 
 
 When we look into the records of our religion, the 
 great object which presents itself to our view is the ap- 
 pearance of a divine instructor, who, without any myste- 
 rious concealment, addresses himself to the race of man 
 with the voice of authority, and speaks to them as to the 
 
92 Proofs of Immortality 
 
 children of God, and the heirs of immortality. We see 
 him, with the most winning condescension, opening 
 these sublime truths to every description of men, preach- 
 ing the gospel to the poor, and calling upon every hu- 
 man being to listen to this single lofty view of his na- 
 ture. We hear him calling upon all mankind to aban- 
 don their follies and superstitions, their own dreams and 
 reveries on the subject of religion, and to come to him, 
 and he will conduct them right ! Do we not at once 
 perceive, my brethren, that this is the teacher whom 
 mankind must follow ; that it is he who must lead the 
 human race ; and that, however he may be rejected and 
 despised by some, who esteem themselves wise, yet that 
 none but he can guide and conduct the multitude of 
 men? Do we not farther see, that he has guided many 
 sons and daughters into the way of righteousness ; and 
 are there not those in the lowest stations of life, who, 
 from his instructions, have attained nobler and more ele- 
 vated wisdom than is to be found in all the schools of 
 human philosophy ? 
 
 While the doctrines of our Saviour are so simple, 
 that they are level to the apprehension of the least in- 
 structed of the human race, they are at the same time 
 so sublime, that the most enlightened cannot conceive 
 any thing beyond them. The highest and purest views 
 of human reason his doctrines confirm, and confirm 
 them without any addition of superstitious delusion. 
 They form a point to which all the reasonings of men 
 on those lofty subjects may fix and adhere, and which 
 may prevent the opinions of the thoughtful and inqui- 
 sitive from being carried about by *' every wind of doc- 
 trine.'''* 
 
from Revelation. 93 
 
 But, my brethren, the most striking circumstance in 
 the system of Christianity is its condescension to ail the 
 fears and all the frailties of our nature ; and here it comes 
 with a force and energy which every heart must feel, 
 and which no understanding, that is not blinded, can 
 overlook. To the pious and sincere, whose humility 
 may yet be overpowered with the prospects of future 
 glory, and who fear to lift their mortal vision to the blaz- 
 ing throne of eternity, — the Saviour of mankind speaks 
 with the voice of the kindest encouragement, and as- 
 sures them, that in his " Father"* s house there are many 
 mansions ; and that he has gone to prepare a place for 
 them.'''' — To the sinner, whose conscience is heavy la- 
 den, the same blessed person addresses himself in ac- 
 cents of the tenderest compassion, and bids him come 
 to him, and he will give him rest. Are these assurances 
 not sufficient ? Does the sinner still doubt of forgive- 
 ness, and tremble in the presence of his God ? Then 
 let him look to " the Lamb which was slain ;^^ to the of- 
 fering which God has provided for himself; to him who 
 promises forgiveness, bleeding to assure him that he is 
 forgiven ! 
 
 Must something more yet be done ? Does the cham- 
 ber of death still look sad, and do our hearts fail us for 
 fear, when we see all men entering in, and none coming 
 out ? Does he who came to lift our eyes above morta- 
 lity sleep, too, in the grave ; and did we trust in vain, 
 " that it was he who was to redeem Israel?''^ No, 
 Cliristian, thy hope has not been vain ! The grave could 
 not detain the Captain of thy salvation. " Death has had 
 no dominion over him.'" — " He has ascended up on high, 
 leading captivity captive;''^ and now, in the fulness of 
 
94 Proofs of Immortality^ ^c. 
 
 faith, thou mayst say, " deaths where is thy sting ? 
 grave, where is thy victory .^" 
 
 Such, my brethren, are the stupendous truths which 
 ye have now been contemplating ! Such is " the life 
 and immortality which to you have been brought to light 
 through the gospel!'''' Meditate upon these things, in the 
 full assurance of faith ; glory in your Christian profes- 
 sion ; and, when you call to mind the multitudes of your 
 fellow-creatures who still *' sit in darkness, and in the 
 shadow of death,'''' acknowledge, with gratitude, how 
 greatly you have been blessed, ' ' xvhom the Day-spring 
 from on high hath visited ;''"' who have been brought 
 into " the fold ;'''' and " who Imve heard the voice of the 
 shepherd ;'''' and '* seeing that all these present things 
 shall be dissolved, consider what manner of persons ye 
 ought to be in all holy convei'sation and godliness ;'''' who 
 have received the promise of " nexv heavens and a ?7ew 
 earth, wherei?i dwelleth righteousness.'" — " Wherefore, 
 beloved, seeing that ye look for such things, be diligent, 
 that ye be found of God in peace, without spot, and 
 blameless.'''' 
 
SERMON XII. 
 
 ON THE RESURRECTION OF THE DEAD. 
 
 EZEKIEL, xxxvii. 3. 
 
 ^^ Ajid he said imto me^ Son ofman^ can these bones live? 
 And I answered^ Lord God^ thou knoxvest.'''' 
 
 I KNOW not, my brethren, whether, in the 
 whole volume of scripture, there is a passage of more 
 astonishing sublimity, than that of which these words 
 form a part. 
 
 " The hand of the Lord (says the prophet) luas upon 
 me, and cat^ried me out in the Spirit of the Lord, and 
 set me down in the midst of the valley xvhich was full of 
 bones, and caused me to pass by them round about ; a?id, 
 behold, there were very many in the open valley ; and, 
 lo, they were v6ry dry. And he said unto me. Son of 
 man. can these bones live? And I answered, Lord 
 God, thou knoxvest. ylgain he said unto me. Prophesy 
 upon these bones, and say unto them, O ye dry boneSy 
 hear the xvord of the Lord. Thus saith the Lord God 
 unto these bones, Behold, Ixvdl cause breath to enter into 
 you, and ye shall live ; and I will lay sinews upon you^ 
 and xvill bring up Jlesh upon you, and cover you xvith 
 skin, and put breath in you, and ye shall live, and ye shall 
 
96 On the Resurrection 
 
 know that I atn the Lord. So I prophesied as I was 
 commanded ; and as I prophesied, there was a shaking y 
 and the bones came together^ bone to his bone. And 
 when I beheld^ lo, the sinews and the jiesh came upon 
 them^ and the skin covered them above ; but there was 
 no breath in them. Then said he unto me. Prophesy 
 unto the wind, prophesy^ son of man, and say to the 
 wind. Thus saith the Lord God, Come from the four 
 winds, O breath, and breathe upo?i these slain, that they 
 may live. So I prophesied as he commanded me, and 
 the breath came into them, and they lived and stood up 
 upon their feet, an exceeding great army.'''* 
 
 It is no long time, my brethren, since we were called 
 upon to contemplate that life and immortality which our 
 Lord brought to light through the gospel, when he rose 
 in triumph from the grave, and became *' the first 
 fruits of them who sleep,'''' We shall soon be called 
 upon to contemplate his ascension into heaven, where 
 he now sits at the right hand of his Father, and makes 
 intercession for his faithful people. These are lofty 
 truths, with which, from our earliest years, we have 
 been familiar ; but, perhaps, from that very circum- 
 stance, they frequently fail to impress our minds with 
 the deep feeling which naturally belongs to them. We 
 *' have heard of them by the hearing of the ear ;'''' we 
 believe them to be true ; but while our understandings 
 may be convinced of their truth, our hearts may often 
 be unaffected by them. The world, with its scenes of 
 magnificence, activity, and enjoyment, occupies our 
 eyes, and intrudes into most of our meditations ; and we 
 can scarcely be prevailed upon to imaErine that there is 
 any thing substantial in those stupendous scenes which 
 
of the Dead. 97. 
 
 lie beyond it. With a view to correct these prejudiceij, 
 it will not, I believe, be a useless employment to fol- 
 low the prophet into the dark scene of his meditations ; 
 to contemplate with him the cheerless termination of a 
 temporary being ; and when all mortal hope is at an 
 end, and when the world is shut out from our thoughts, 
 Avith him to fix our eye on those prophetic rays which 
 brighten the gloom, and which visit with " the Day' 
 spring from on high,^^ even " the valley of the shadow 
 of death.'* "^ 
 
 " The hand of the Lord (says he) was upon me^ and 
 carried me out in the Spirit of the Lord, and set me 
 down in the midst of the valley which was full of bones ^ 
 and caused me to pass by them roufid about ; and behold, 
 there rvere very many in the open valley ; and, h! they 
 were very dry."*"* The opening of the description, my 
 brethren, presents a picture which we are naturally averse 
 to contemplate ; we fly from it into the scenes of dissipa- 
 tion ; " the harp and the viol are in our feasts;'''' and we 
 seek to banish, in the transitory enjoyments of our being, 
 the forebodings of its final close. There are times, 
 however, when " the hand of the Lord is upon us,^^ 
 and when the most thoughtless of us are *' carried out 
 in the Spirit of the Lord, and are set down m the midst 
 of the valley xvhich is full of bones.^^ We are called, 
 perhaps, to follow to the grave the parents whom we 
 venerated and loved ; the companions of our youth, or 
 the partners of our affections, drop down in the dust be- 
 fore us ; even the buds of infancy are nipped, and those 
 new affections, which seemed to carry us forward into 
 a long futurity, are suddenly crushed in the moment of 
 their formation. We then willingly sit down w ith the 
 
 . N 
 
98 On the Resurrection -^ 
 
 prophet " in the midst of the valley which is full of 
 hones.'''' We hear the wind sigh through the grass 
 which covers them ; we raise our languid eyes, and fix 
 them on the monuments of mortaUty ; we " pass by 
 them round about i"*"* the world, with all its splendour, 
 and toil, and gaiety, vanishes from our sight ; and we 
 are drawn, by an irresistible impulse, to contemplate^ 
 with undivided attention, the gloomy scene, in which 
 all we have admired or valued here must inevitably ter- 
 minate ; on the " very many bones in the open valley ^''^ 
 deprived of every principle of life, and become " very 
 dry.'' 
 
 In these moments of melancholy thought, when all 
 the occupations of men seem insignificant, and for no 
 end ; when the labours or the enjoyments which fill up 
 the space of our " few and evil days^"" seem only to 
 deceive us with false hopes, or to give us a taste of hap- 
 piness which must speedily pass away j when the beauty 
 of creation itself is lost to us, and the sun which shines 
 above our heads seems only to " light us to the tomb;" 
 what, I beseech you, is the only inquiry which we are 
 anxious to make, the only information we are willing to 
 receive ? The voice which spoke to the prophet is then 
 heard to speak in every human heart, and to utter the 
 words of incalculable import, '* Son of man y can these 
 bones live ?" The reply to this solemn inquiry will not, 
 in that hour, my brethren, be the careless trifling of the 
 sophist. The lofty mind of man will not then stoop to 
 play tricks with its own ingenuity ; but the eye of nature 
 will be raised to heaven, burning through its tears, and 
 the voice of the heart will cry aloud to the Father of 
 existence, and will seek from him the knowledge of the 
 
of the Dead. 99 
 
 destiny of man, " Lord God, thou knowest.''' The 
 gloom of the grave is no darkness to thee ; thou breath- 
 est into man the breath of life, and thou takest it away; 
 thou alone canst tell whether his being may be renewed ! 
 
 It is thus we may interpret the reply of the prophet ; 
 and it is in this manner that light begins to break in 
 upon the obscurity of " the valley which is full of 
 bones.'''' With what gratitude are the first rays of that 
 celestial light then hailed ! and how eagerly does the soul 
 apply for still forther illumination to that living source 
 whence alone it can flow ! How many doubts and mis- 
 givings are dispelled, when the God of nature is once 
 fairly recognized ! and, when the api:)eal is made to him, 
 how willingly does he insinuate the prophecy of immor- 
 tality I 
 
 ** Again he said unto me (continues die prophet), Pro- 
 phesy upon these bofies, and say unto them^ Thus saith. 
 the Lord God unto these bones. Behold I will cause breath 
 to enter into you, and ije shall live.'''' The same words 
 of prophecy which were at this time heard by Ezekiel, 
 were likewise heard by many wise and good men of the 
 heathen world, who, like him, wandered in the Spirit of 
 the Lord through the valley of bones, and from that 
 cheerless scene of desolation, were, like him, prompted 
 to lift the eye of faith to the Father of their being. 
 Whenever the words of faith were uttered, '* Lord 
 God, thou knowest ;" whenever the material veil was for 
 a moment raised, and a glimpse was caught of the eter- 
 nal throne of God, — then the rays of prophetic hope 
 dawned upon " the shadow of deatJi ;'''' and nature her- 
 self, independently of immediate inspiration, could fore- 
 tel the rise of the immortal form of man from the sleep 
 
l66 On the Resurrection 
 
 of the grave. The evidences arising from the attributes 
 of God; from the dignity of the human mind; from the 
 analogies of nature, then crowded in with an increasing 
 force ; and even in those dark ages, which " the Day- 
 spring from on high had not visited,^'' could assume the 
 high tone and firmness of prophetic assurance. It is thus 
 delightful to find, that in no age of the world did God 
 leave himself without a witness ; and that the loftiest 
 truths of religion rose, as if of their own accord, in the 
 minds of the contemplative, from amidst the very hor- 
 rors which seemed to bury and overwhelm them. 
 
 " And as I prophesied there was a shaking, and the 
 bones came together^ bone to his bone.'''' I will not, my 
 brethren, trust myself to repeat the astonishiiig descrip- 
 tion which follows ; when the visions of prophecy as- 
 summed the appearance of present reality ; when the 
 prophet at once beheld what before he had only imagine 
 cd ; when the dead were raised up in multitudes around 
 him ; and when an " exceeding great army'''' rose from 
 the " dry bones.''"' It is more important for me to say, 
 that what this vision was to him, the Gospel of our Lord 
 is to us ; that, to the Christian, the prophetic hopes of 
 nature assume the evidence of reality ; that in his hours 
 of meditation in " the valley which is full of bones ^^'' the 
 truths of his religion speak from the silence of the grave ; 
 that he then seems to hear the Captain of his salvation 
 caliir.g to the four winds, and bidding the earth give up 
 the accumulated dead of ages, and to behold " the ex- 
 ceeding great army of the faithful,^'' which, from the 
 east and from the west, from the north and from the 
 south, shall obey the call, and shall follow their leader 
 
of the Dead, 101 
 
 into those mansions which he has already gone to pre- 
 pare for them. 
 
 The allusion here made to the gospel appears indeed 
 to be obvious and striking. " As I prophesied^''^ says 
 Ezekiel — at the very moment when the eye of man was 
 anxiously turned towards his future being ; when the 
 contemplative and the pious were eagerly accumulating 
 the evidences of their immortality, and were rousing up 
 every principle of faith, he who obtained a victory oVer 
 the grave, made this great truth obvious even to sense ; 
 and wherever his followers carried the glad tidings of his 
 resurrection, the day-spring from on high was immedi- 
 ately shed abroad over many a nation which had " sat in 
 darkness, and in the shadow of death.'*'' 
 
 It is thus, my brethren, that I have endeavoured once 
 more to lead your attention to the loftiest and most in- 
 teresting truth of religion. There are times, we see, 
 when nothing short of this truth can give the slightest 
 interest to the human mind ; when the sun loses its 
 light, and all nature is dead and gloomy without it; 
 and when the only consolation the heart can know is 
 contained in the answer to the solemn question, " Son 
 of man, can these bones live ?" The answer to that 
 question is found by those only who listen to it in the 
 spirit of the Lord ; who, in the lowest depth of their 
 affliction, or in their gloomiest meditations on the fate of 
 man, can yet lift the eye of hope and of piety to the 
 Father of nature ; and, while their own thoughts are 
 dark, can yet say to him, " Lord God, thou knowest,'*^ 
 From minds thus prepared, my brethren, all the doubts 
 of nature, or of a vain philosophy, will speedily pass 
 
102 On the Resurrection^ ^c, 
 
 away ; the lights of reason will illuminate their path ; 
 and the stronger beam of revelation will, even now, seem 
 to disclose the celestial life and immortality which are 
 lurking unperceiv^ed for a time under the " mant/ dry 
 bones''^ in the valley of death. 
 
 If there are times when this lofty doctrine alone can 
 afford us a gleam of comfort, there is no time in which 
 it ought to pass entirely from our thoughts. There is 
 in fact no time of our mortal existence in which we are 
 not passing through " the valley which is full of bones.^^ 
 We are now treading upon the bones of our fathers; and 
 the feet of our children will soon pass over ours. Is 
 this a world then, my brethren, which ought to claim all 
 our affections ? Is it meet that our " abiding city'*'' should 
 be here ? and, instead of pursuing without ceasing those 
 advantages which must terminate here, shall we not en- 
 deavour to tread in that path of steady goodness which 
 leads so surely into a brighter and an eternal abode ? 
 
 This path is found without any difficult or perplexed 
 inquiry, by him who will seek for it in the spirit of the 
 Lord, and will here, too, say with the prophet, " O 
 Lord God, thou know est. ^"^ Even those who are dead 
 in trespasses and sins, thou, O Lord God, knowest how 
 to restore. To this moral resurrection the prophet at 
 last alludes, and thus closes the profound doctrine which 
 he had unveiled. 
 
 " Then he said unto me, Son of man, these bones are 
 the whole house of Israel : behold they say, our bones are 
 dried and our hope is lost; therefore prophesy and say unto 
 them. Thus saith the Lord God, Behold, my people, I 
 will open your gj'aves, and will put my spirit in you, and 
 ye shall live. Then shall ye know that I the Lord have 
 spoken it, and have perfonned it, saith the Lord.''^ 
 
SERMON XIII. 
 
 THE TEMPORAL ADVANTAGES OF CHRISTIANITY 
 
 EPHESIANS, iv. 8. 
 
 *' Wherefore he saith^ When he ascended up on high^ he 
 led captivity captive^ and gave gifts unto men.'*'' 
 
 THESE words, my brethren, express very beau- 
 tifully the nature of those blessings which have been 
 conferred on the human race by the Son of God. 
 " When he ascended up on high^ he led captivity cap- 
 tive ;" he rescued men from the bondage of sin and 
 death ; overcame the rulers of the spiritual darkness of 
 this world ; and opened up that new and living way, by 
 which the pure in heart may draw near to God, as chil- 
 dren to an indulgent parent. 
 
 It is to the concluding words of the text, however, that 
 I wish at present to confine your attention. *' He gave 
 gifts unto men.'*'* The apostle explains immediately to 
 what kind of gifts he refers : '•'■he gave some apostles^ 
 and some prophets, and so?7ie evangelists, and some pas- 
 tors and teachers, for the perfecting of the saints^ for 
 the work of the ministry, for the edifying of the body of 
 Christ : till ive all come in the unity of the faith, and of 
 
104 The Temporal Advantages 
 
 the knowledge of the Son of God, unto a perfect many 
 unto the measure of the statureof the fulness of Christ.^"* 
 
 The extraordinary providence of God, in the early- 
 progress of the gospel, naturally attracted the peculiar at- 
 tention of the apostle. The spirit of G^d was visibly 
 moving upon the face of the waters, and dividing the 
 light from the darkness. The beauty of the moral world 
 was now breaking forth into view, and the great Parent 
 of all was seen looking upon it also, and beholding it to 
 be very good. The mind of the apostle evidently la- 
 bours with the mighty scene that was before him ; and 
 here, as in many other passages of his writings, he seems 
 incapable of finding words to express the magnitude of 
 his conceptions. It was his lot to behold the infant 
 church striking root, — the grain of mustard seed thrown 
 into the earth. He saw the hand of him who planted it 
 pouring upon it the dew of heaven ; and his prophetic 
 eye looks forward to the time when it should become a 
 great tree, and the birds of the air should lodge in its 
 branches. 
 
 It was impossible, therefore, in those times, to avoid 
 perceiving the constant presence of Christ with his 
 church, or to overlook the gifts which he was so liberal- 
 ly dispensing among men. But now the case is differ- 
 ent : the religion of Jesus has long been established ; 
 the miraculous gifts of the spirit have ceased ; the tree 
 has bepome great, and the birds are now lodging in its 
 branches. The object is in fact greater and more stu- 
 pendous than it was in the days of the apostle, but we 
 naturally give it less of our attention. The magnificent 
 arrangement of the heavens, and the beauties ^o liberally 
 scattered over the face of th^ earth, are proofs of the 
 
of Christianity. 105 
 
 divine wisdom and goodness, no less now than on the 
 first day of creation, " when the morning stars sang 
 together^ and all the sons of God shouted for joy;''^ but 
 custom has so inured our minds to the splendid specta- 
 cle, that wc scarcely contemplate it witii admiration. 
 In like manner, having been born and educated under 
 the influence of Christianity, we lose sight of many of 
 the advantages which we have derived from it; and are 
 apt to impute most of the blessings which we enjoy to 
 nature, and to the course of events, which yet, when 
 rightly understood, are to be ascribed to our religion. 
 
 To this subject I beg leave at present shortly to direct 
 your attention, both as it is very interesting in itself, 
 and as it will naturally lead me to speak of that charita- 
 ble institution *, to wliich we have this day been invited 
 to contribute. 
 
 It is very generally acknowledged, that the state of 
 the world is, on the whole, greatly improved since he 
 introduction of the gospel ; and, whatever may be said 
 of the mischiefs occasioned by superstitious and per- 
 verted views of Ciiristianity, it cannot be denied, that 
 the natural tendency of a religion which declares all 
 men to be the children of one common parent, and 
 which speaks of charity as the end of the command- 
 ment, must ever have been to produce " glory to God 
 in the highest^ and on earth peace and good will toward 
 men.'''' 
 
 These effects have followed from Christianity in no 
 common degree. Even in the times of the darkest super- 
 stition, there have been men who caught the true spirit 
 
 * The Public Dispensary. 
 n 
 
106 The Temporal Advantages 
 
 of the gospel, and were " as cities set upon a hill, that 
 could not be hid.'''* How much happiness was dissemi- 
 nated among men in the worst of times, by the faith and 
 charity of those individuals who have been true follow- 
 ers of Christ, it is impossible for us to calculate ; but 
 we may be assured that, although we meet not in the 
 page of history with any detail of their humble but 
 glorious efibrts, yet the effect produced was not incon- 
 siderable ; and that, while in those gloomy periods we 
 are accustomed to discern nothing but superstition and 
 misery, still the footsteps of the Son of God were to be 
 traced among the dwellings of men, and the light from 
 above was still cheering and animating many an honest 
 heart. 
 
 The advantages of the gospel, however, are more 
 apparent in times of civilization and knowledge. We 
 then find Christianity promoting and sanctifying every 
 exertion which is made for the benefit of the human 
 race. We find it giving an impulse to every sound and 
 liberal inquiry, and extending the bounds of the science 
 and the wisdom of man. We find its spirit entering 
 into the counsels of nations, and gradually striving to 
 appease the animosities by which they are divided. We 
 find it unbinding the chains of the captive, and breath- 
 ing over the whole world the maxims of impartial jus- 
 tice and of enlightened benevolence. 
 
 Are these distinguishing characteristics of the chris- 
 tian world to be ascribed solely to the progress of civi- 
 lization and philosophy ? Why, then, were they not 
 to be found in the ancient world ? Some of the nations 
 of antiquity were greatly advanced in all the arts and 
 improvements by which social life is benefited and 
 
of Christianity. 107 
 
 adorned ; but they were far from possessing the same 
 principles of wisdom, of humanity, and of justice, which 
 are now understood at least, if they are but imperfectly 
 brought into action. We are in the habit of boasting 
 greatly of our advantages in point of civilization and 
 philosopliy ; but we are not always very willing to ac- 
 knowledge the source from which these advantages arc- 
 derived to us. I will not, however, hesitate to affirm, 
 that unless a steady beam from heaven had opened up to 
 man the path of truth and of wisdom, the world would 
 still have exhibited the melancholy spectacle of the 
 blind leading the blind ; and instead of that fair and in- 
 creasing fabric of knowledge and of improvement which 
 we now behold rearing around us, which is founded 
 upon the rock of ages, and which the winds and the 
 rains of time assail in vain, we should still have beheld 
 the efforts of man wasted on some tower of Babel, be- 
 ginning in extravagance, and terminating in confusion. 
 From these extensive views, let us turn to the more 
 familiar consideration of the influence of Christianity on 
 the habits of private life. Haw beautifully have these 
 been improved by it ! How much have the grosser 
 vices been extirpated, or driven into obscurity ! There 
 is a sanctity and purity in the private life of good men, 
 and by a kind of necessity in the domestic life of all 
 men, which was far from prevailing in the world be- 
 fore the introduction of the gospel. Even politeness, 
 and the manners of good society, however artificial they 
 may be, are yet, in a great measure, produced by the 
 influence of Christianity on the public mind. The 
 amusements of men are regulated by the same spirit. 
 There is a decency prevalent, which is expressive of 
 
108 The Temporal Advantages 
 
 innocence, and which cannot with impunity be great- 
 ly violated. Thus, luxury has been restrained within 
 bounds; the higher orders of society are prevented from 
 carrying a licence of manners far beyond the limits of 
 propriety ; and while they are indulged in those elegan- 
 cies of life which are suited to their station, they are yet 
 kept in check by the warning voice, that they must " use 
 these things as not abusing them.'''' 
 
 If the manners of the affluent have thus been improv- 
 ed, the interests and happiness of the lower orders of 
 society have met, in the progress of the gospel, with a 
 regard and an attention which was quite unexampled 
 in the former history of the world. It is impossible, 
 my brethren, that within my present limits I can do any 
 justice to this most distinguishing feature of Christianity. 
 That it was one great object of our Saviour's mission, 
 appears from his declaration, that he came to " preach 
 the gospel to the poor .•*' it appears from the constant 
 application which he gave, when on earth, to the relief 
 of the infirmities of the lowest of the people : it appears 
 still more from the striking fact, that he was himself a 
 poor man, who had *' not where to lay his head.'''' I 
 know not any conceivable circumstance which could 
 have had a more powerful influence in raising and digni- ' 
 fying the condition of poverty ; in making it respectable 
 in the eyes of the proudest and most affluent ; in making 
 them zealous to relieve the distresses to which it is lia- 
 ble, than this most astonishing fact, that the same per- 
 son, before whom the potentates of the earth now bow 
 the knee ; whose name in every Christian land is classed 
 with the highest which is named ; whose dignity is so 
 Ibfty, that the imagination of man loses it amidst the 
 
of Christianity. 109 
 
 splendours of Deity ; that he, when he lived among 
 men, should have appeared in the obscurest condition, 
 and with the fewest external advantages. That all these 
 circumstances have had a prodigious effect in removing 
 the worst prejudices which arise from the inequalities 
 of rank in society, appears, in the first place, from the 
 comparative freedom and importance to which the lower 
 orders have attained in every Christian country ; and, 
 secondly, from the many institutions which, wherever 
 Christianity is disseminated, have been established for 
 removing the wants, and for relieving the diseases of 
 the poor. 
 
 It is thus, my brethren, that our Saviour has bestow- 
 ed present gifts upon men, and that the same divine 
 person who undertook and accomplished their eternal 
 salvation, is, in the present life, their greatest benefac- 
 tor and friend. This reflection, pursued through all the 
 departments of human life, in which Christianity has 
 been beneficial, either by its precepts or its spirit, re- 
 stores us again, in some measure, to the times of its ori- 
 gin, and makes us still partake in the benefit of our Sa- 
 viour's presence. When we accustom ourselves to be- 
 hold his hand spreading abroad happiness among nations, 
 or pointing out to men the paths of peace in private life, 
 we can still fancy that we are enjoying his companv, and 
 listening to his sublime instructions. We even are wit- 
 nesses of his miracles ; we see the worst diseases of 
 body or of mind healed or relieved in those institutions 
 which his Spirit inspired, and over which it presides ; 
 and, like the disciples of old, we hear his voice sending 
 us forth to be fellow- workers with him in these labours 
 of love, with him " to preach the gospel to the poor; to 
 
110 The Temporal Advantages, ^c. 
 
 heal the sick ; to cleanse the lepers ; and freely to give, 
 as freely we have received.'''' 
 
 On the subject of the institution, which at present 
 claims our assistance, my words shall be few. It is 
 most evidently a Christian institution, and breathes the 
 genuine spirit of the gospel. It supplies the poor of our 
 people with aid and advice, under the pressure of disease; 
 restores to their families the labour of fathers and of 
 sons ; and smooths the bed of death to the infirm and 
 the aged. *' It suffers likewise the little children to come 
 unto it ;" and by the application of that blessed discove- 
 ry *, which has in our day been a " gift unto men,''* and 
 which has for ever freed the anxious minds of parents 
 from one of their heaviest alarms, it preserves to the poor 
 man those children to whom he yet looks forward for 
 his future support, and whom he hopes to render a bless- 
 ing to their country. I need not add one farther word 
 of recommendation. You have here, my brethren, an 
 opportunity of co-operating with your heavenly master 
 in his benevolent designs for the good of mankind. 
 You have lately risen from his altar, where you beheld 
 him " ascending up on high, and leading captivity cap- 
 tive.''^ He now sends you forth to be the ministers of 
 '' his gifts to men.** Go, then, and rejoice that you are 
 thoughtworthy to be so employed ; and remember with 
 gratitude, ** that, inasmuch as ye do good to one of the 
 least of these his brethren,'''' he esteems it done *' unto 
 himP* 
 
 * Vaccination. 
 
SERMON XIV. 
 
 rilC SUPERIOR IMPORTANCE OF IMORAL DUTIES. 
 
 :MATTHE\V, ix. 13. 
 
 " But go ye, and learn what that meaneth ; I will have 
 mercy, and not sacrifice,'*'* 
 
 THE Pharisees, who were particularly rigid in 
 their outward demeanour, although their hearts were 
 very far from being penetrated with just sentiments of 
 religion, pretended to find fault with our Saviour, for the 
 ease and freedom with which he frequented all kinds of 
 society, as if, by so doing, he was derogating from that 
 iiigh character which he assumed. — " fJ^hy eatethyour 
 master with publicans and sinners .^" was a question 
 which they frequently put to his disciples ; and the an- 
 swer which it received from Jesus was one into the spi- 
 rit of which they were probably very little caps'.ble of 
 ciUcring. — " They that be whole (says he) need not a 
 physician, but they that are sick .•" and then in tlie words 
 of the text he proceeds: " but go ye and learn what that 
 meaneth, I will have mercy and ?iot sacrifice.''^ — As i^ 
 he had said: " In consequence of your perverted notions 
 of relit^ion, you cannot at all comprehend the nature of 
 
112 The Superior Importance 
 
 my mission. You suppose that religion consists in a 
 formal attention to rites and ceremonies ; I came into 
 the world to show that it is an active principle, operat- 
 ing upon man as a member of society, and leading to a 
 course of unwearied beneficence : you suppose that the 
 Deity is gratified with the pomp of worship and the sanc- 
 tity of the countenance ; I came to show that a good 
 heart is what he requires, and that he judges of the heart 
 much more from the conduct of man with man, than 
 from any praises or adoration which can be bestowed on 
 himself." 
 
 The error of the Pharisees, which our Saviour here 
 exposes, is one which is very apt to insinuate itself into 
 the minds of those, who, having acquired a speculative 
 belief in matters of faith, have yet neglected to apply their 
 religious principles to the discipline of the heart. Reli- 
 gion, considered merely as a speculation, opens up so 
 wide a field, whether we inquire into the divine attri- 
 butes, into the immortality of man, or that peculiar dis- 
 pensation of Providence revealed to us in the gospel ; 
 that the mind which is occupied with such investiga- 
 tions is frequently liable to be carried away from the 
 business of life, and lost in the unseen world ; to quit 
 sight of those ties by which it is connected with the pre- 
 sent order of things. — It is thus that religious views oc- 
 casionally abstract a man from the duties which he owes 
 to his fellow- creatures, and lift him out of that sphere 
 in which Providence designed him to walk. — Fixing his 
 thoughts on things above this world, he is apt to look 
 with contempt both on the common pains and the com- 
 mon pleasures incident to human nature ; he becomes 
 unfeeling and austere; moving in a higher circle, he 
 
of Moral Duties. 113 
 
 scarcely regards man as his brother; and his feelings are 
 more shocked with die neglect of any reverential cere- 
 mony connected with the objects of his meditation, than 
 with the violation of those moral ties which bind man to 
 man. Here we see the openings by which spiritual pride 
 finds its way into the mind ; the sources of uncharitable 
 opinions and inhuman bigotry; the substitution of fri\'o. 
 lous and superstitious observances in the room of real 
 devotion and of active beneficence. 
 
 It will not therefore be a useless employment to en- 
 force that view of religion exhibited by our Saviour in 
 the text ; for which purpose I shall employ two argu- 
 ments, the first drawn from the consideration of the di- 
 vine beneficence, the second from the condition of man 
 in this world. 
 
 First, then, contemplate the divine beneficence. If 
 there is any thing certain in religion, it is this : that God 
 is good ; that he created the world in love ; and that his 
 kind providence and tender mercy are over all his works. 
 Whether we attend to the marks of goodness displayed 
 in the common administration of the world, or take in 
 those more enlarged views with which Christianity ])re- 
 sents us, it will appear, that love to his creatures is the 
 ruling principle of the divine agency. We cannot, in- 
 deed, on any other ground account for the creation of 
 the world, or see a reason why a being, who Vvas com- 
 plete in himself, should call into existence such an in- 
 finite multiplicity of living creatures. The goodness of 
 God is a great motive for every return of gratitude an.d 
 devotion ; for the inward sentiments of a pious heart ; 
 and for the out^vard demonstration of homage and wor- 
 ship. But the assurance of this great truth, tlint Gocl is 
 
 r 
 
1 1 4 The Superior Importance 
 
 altogether beneficent, may convince us, that every thing 
 "which promotes the good of his creatures is much more 
 occeptiible in his sight than any praise or adoration which 
 can be conferred upon liimself. — *' / will have mercy ^ 
 and not sacrifice,^'' is therefore, in all likelihood, the lan- 
 guage in which God addresses himself to every order of 
 beings ; to tlie blessed spirits that enjoy the brightness 
 of his glory, and glow with the constant flame of devo- 
 tion, as well as to man ! " Are they not all ministering 
 spirits (saith the apostle to the Hebrews), sent forth to 
 minister Jor them ivho shall be heirs of salvation ?" 
 
 But that this is the onl}^ language in which man can 
 reasonably be addressed, will appear evident, if we go 
 on, in the second place, to consider his condition in this 
 world. — It is the doctrine of scripture (and probably 
 the soundest observations on human nature will confirm, 
 the fact) that man is a fallen being ; that he is not such 
 as he came from the hands of God; that he has in a great 
 measure lost sight of his divine origin ; and, therefore, 
 all his attempts to elevate his thoughts to the contempla- 
 tion of the divine perfections, must be extremely defec- 
 tive and inadequate. — The praises which man can be- 
 stow upon his Maker, can never be at all worthy of the 
 great Being to whom they are addressed : they must al- 
 ways be obscured by the imperfect apprehensions, and 
 the rising affections incident to the human mind : the 
 taste of spiritual things is greatly vitiated and destroyed ; 
 and probably the sincerest Christian, whose mind is the 
 most illuminated by the Spirit of God, will still find in 
 his purest and most perfect devotions, a large intermix- 
 ture of human infirmity and folly. 
 
of Moral Duties. 115 
 
 In this degraded condition of the soul ot* inaii, banish- 
 ed as he is from a direct communion with his Creator, 
 and exposed to all the temptations of a deceitful world ; 
 exposed to the allurements of sensuality, to the vain 
 distractions of worldly riches, and the innumerable 
 obstructions which lie in his way to those heavenly 
 mansions where yet he hopes to find rest for his soul, 
 what a beautiful and simple path is still opened up for 
 him by the goodness of God ! " / xvill have mercy ^ and 
 not sacrifice.^'* I seek not from man what he cannot 
 perform; I ask not praises worthy my acceptance, which 
 he never can bestow: to feel his distance, " to walk 
 humbly with his God^'''' is the best proof he can give of 
 his devotion ; but surely I require of him " to do justly, 
 and to love mercy. ^"^ — And it is a most beautiful circum- 
 stance, that the very condition of human nature, which 
 has rendered man incapable of elevating his thoughts to 
 God in a manner at all suitable to the dignity of the 
 object, has opened up to hini the widest opportunity for 
 the exercise of all the virtues which have man for their 
 object. 
 
 In what scene, so well as in this world, where wick- 
 edness and misery prevail, can the virtues of justice and 
 of charity shine with their brightest lustre ? In the 
 regions of light, where God is fully known, the fervour 
 of devotion will glow intensely ; we in this abode of sin 
 and darkness can be enlightened only by a {<t\\ partial 
 rays. — But indignation at wrong and oppression ; a 
 strong feeling of what is due to man ; compassion for 
 the sufferings, and a tender interest in the happiness of 
 our fellow-creatures, can nowhere be learnt so well as 
 in this world, where tb.cse virtues are so necessary, and 
 
1 16 The Superior Importance 
 
 have so many opportunities for exertion. — So striking 
 is this fact; so pecuHarly adapted is this world to be the 
 school of compassion, and of that character of virtue 
 which we term humanity, that, in a remarkable passage 
 of the Epistle to the Hebrews, one of the reasons why 
 the Son of God himself is said to have assumed our 
 nature, and to be tempted in all points like as we are, is, 
 that he might " be touched with a feeling of our infrmi- 
 ties*^^ This, then, is evidently the course which man 
 ought to take, to perfect himself, in as far as he can, in 
 those virtuous habits which his situation here has the 
 greatest tendency to produce, without aiming prema- 
 turely at the acquisition of endowments, which may be 
 reserved to complete his holiness and happiness in a 
 higher stage of existence. 
 
 It will not, I hope, be inferred from any thing which 
 has now been said, that religious exercises, or the 
 duties of prayer and praise, are useless and insignifi- 
 cant. On the contrary, they keep alive in the mind a 
 sense of the divine superintendence, and the sentiment 
 of devotion. All that I wish to establish is this im- 
 portant truth, that, in the present condition of our na- 
 ture, our duty to God is best performed by the strict 
 and conscientious discharge of our duties to man ; by 
 cultivating every right affection, and promoting the 
 good of mankind in every way. 
 
 The beauty of the order of Providence consists in this, 
 that the soul of man has a prospect, indeed, but a dark 
 and a distant one, of something higher awaiting it than 
 any thing in this world can supply ; of nobler occupa- 
 tions and more elevated enjoyments; of a nearer appro- 
 ximation to the source from which it proceeded, the eter- 
 
of Moral Duties. 117 
 
 nal fountain of all existence. This is the distant view 
 which it becomes us to keep in our eye, which ought to 
 exalt our thoughts, and raise them above every thing 
 mean, despicable, and contrary to religious purity. But 
 when, attaching our thoughts to those views, or to any 
 other pious meditations, we forget our present condition, 
 and our different ties and connections in human society, 
 we are evidently losing- sight of the path before us, and 
 which alone can conduct us well to our journey's end. 
 The prospect of a beautiful land for the termination of 
 our journey, is no doubt delightful, and is a great incite- 
 ment for keeping us steady in our course; but when, in- 
 stead of looking at the road on which we must travel, 
 we always keep our eyes on the country \>'hit]ier w^e 
 are going, we shall be in great danger of mistaking our 
 way. 
 
 In a word, it will appear, that every attempt to be re- 
 ligious, which does not rest on the foundation of a hum- 
 ble endeavour to perform our duty in every station in 
 which we are placed, rests on a false principle, and im- 
 plies an impertinent and vain-glorioui flmiiliarity widi 
 the Deity, which, of all beings, it least becomes man to 
 assume. 
 
 We, who are so much in the dark, and who, from 
 Christianity itself, have received only some mysterious 
 intimations concerning the divine proceedings, — we, of 
 all beings who exist, ought to avoid every proud and 
 lofty conceit which would seem to exalt us above the sta- 
 tion in which we stand, and carry us away from the hum- 
 ble duties incumbent upon us as men : but it is only 
 ^v'hen we attempt to be religious without concerning 
 ourselves in the good of mankind, that our religion be- 
 t 
 
118 The Superioi^ Importance^ ^c. 
 
 comes useless, or positively mischievous. When their 
 natural union is preserved, the love of God and the love 
 of man invigorate each other. Glory to God on high, 
 and peace and good will to men, were united together 
 in the song of the angels, and ought ever to be in the 
 hearts of men. 
 
SERMON XV. 
 
 CON'XF.C'J'ION or MORALirY AND URLIGION. 
 
 lir.BRKWS, X. 38. 
 " J\'o7i' the just sfiall Iwe by faith.'''' 
 
 JN a fornicr discourse, my brethren, I enden- 
 \ oiircd to shou the superior importance of the moral 
 and social virtues, over those rehgious exercises, or de- 
 vout meditations, which arc unconnected with tlie im- 
 mediate intercourse of man Vvith man. I first showed, 
 that as the leading characteristic of the divine nature is 
 beneficence, no eniploymeijt can possibly be so pleasing 
 to the Deity as an endeavour to promote the good of his 
 creatures ; and that tlie noblest proof of a heart attach- 
 cd to his service, is the humble imitation of his greatest 
 attribute. But flirther, if there w-ere any doubt upon 
 this subject, when considered as a general question, 
 there can be none when it is apjjlied to the particular 
 condition of man. What exercises of reli<rion, or what 
 devotion can man show, which are not ratiier a detrac- 
 tion from the majesty of God, than a tribute of praise 
 worthy of his acceptance ? and \Ahat greater evidence 
 of the divine condescension, than that he permits him- 
 self to be addressed or contemplated by a creature so 
 
120 Connection of Morality 
 
 weak and erroneous? Yet, in the condition of man, 
 how many opportunities are there for the highest dis- 
 play of every social virtue ? What noble exertions of 
 patriotism, of love, of friendship, of generosity, and of 
 justice, may be exhibited amid the passing scenes of 
 mortal life ? and what theatre can we imagine so ad- 
 mirably adapted as this world, for supplying these vir- 
 tues with every opportunity of action ? 
 
 When these truths, my brethren, impress a mind in- 
 structed in religious principles, they will guide its exer- 
 tions in the best course ; they will lead its devotion into 
 the channel of beneficence ; they will prevent it from 
 giving way to any thing dark and superstitious in reli- 
 gion, and will supply it with a constant source of acti- 
 vity, of cheerfulness, and of honour. There is, however, 
 an erroneous view of this subject, which, finding a ready 
 assent from the vanity of the human heart, frequently 
 leads men into much vice and misery, while it flatters 
 them with the delusive prospect of virtue and happi- 
 ness. 
 
 This is the supposition that virtue may exist inde- 
 pendently of religion ; that the thoughts of God and of 
 futurity rather interrupt than promote the active exer- 
 tions of man ; and that no principle can have so strong 
 an influence on a generous mind, as the love of virtue 
 for its own sake. The bosoms of the young are pe- 
 culiarly alive to this splendid representation of human 
 nature. The stories of ancient heroism seem to attest 
 its truth ; and when we look back with admiration and 
 reverence to those illustrious characters which shed a 
 glory over the darkness of heathen times, we are some- 
 limes disposed to undervalue that light of immortality 
 
and Religion. 121 
 
 which the gospel ushered into the world. We turn our 
 eyes from the pages which record the history of saints 
 and martyrs, to those more dazzling narratives which 
 relate the actions of patriots and sages ; and, captivated 
 with the splendour of human virtue in its natural and 
 unassisted form, we are sometimes apt to treat the pre- 
 tensions to divine illumination as fanaticism and folly. 
 
 It thus not unfrequently happens, that the young are 
 betrayed, by the love of virtue itself, into a contempt 
 for those principles from which virtue receives its best 
 support ; and the melancholy consequence too often is, 
 that when, in the progress of life, tlie enthusiasm of 
 morality subsides, the mind, having no steady founda- 
 tion on which to build, is delivered over to the sway of 
 every accidental passion. It is, therefore, my brethren, 
 of importance to consider that great religious truth, that 
 the true foundation of virtue is faith ; that it is " bi/ 
 faith the just shall live ;" and we shall thus perceive the 
 error of those opinions which represent morality as 
 something detached from religion. 
 
 " Faith (according to the definition of the apostle to 
 the Hebrews) is the substance of things lioped for, the 
 evidence of things not seen.'''* Consider, then, first, 
 morality in its lowest form ; as merely a collection of 
 rules for the prudent conduct of life ; as requiring no 
 high exertions of virtue, but recommending only a 
 general habit of inoftensiveness and humanity, proper 
 attention to our worldly concerns, and a temperate use 
 of the enjoyments of life : perliaps it may not appear 
 obvious, that even this lower degree of morality, when 
 it is perse veringly adhered to as a principle of action, 
 has its fouuflation in a species of religious faith. It has 
 
122 Connection of Morality 
 
 its foundation in a calm and attentive survey of the plan 
 of Providence ; in recognizing this plan to be good ; 
 and in believing, notwithstanding many contradictory 
 appearances, that virtue is the infallible road to happi- 
 ness. The rewards, indeed, at which it aims, are 
 merely temporal ; yet thej'^ are of a higher order than 
 are commonly sought after by the w^orld. They are 
 not the glitter of affluence, nor the vanity of power ; but 
 they are the solid comforts of a mind at peace with 
 mankind and with itself. To perceive the superior 
 excellence of such rewards to the common objects of 
 human estimation, the eye of finth is in fact required ; 
 that eye which looks beyond appearances ; which, amid 
 the glare of vulgar delusion, can trace the finer form of 
 real good, and can descry, with an intuitive assurance, 
 future compensation to be the consequence of present 
 forbearance. This lowest species of virtue, when it is 
 a steady and regular principle of conduct, rests, there- 
 fore, upon a kind of observation and belief, which, if 
 not exactly religion, migiit yet, without much difficulty, 
 be improved into that principle. 
 
 But, secondly, when we reflect on some of the higher 
 characteristics of virtue, characteristics which, to the 
 honour of human nature, are to be traced in all the 
 various aspects of society, and in every age of the world, 
 on what principle do we suppose are they founded ? 
 What do we imagine was the secret spring of those 
 heroic exertions which we contemplate with so much 
 admiration in the history of antiquity ? What was the 
 firm foundation on which they rested ? W^ere they de- 
 rived from the declamations of the schools concerning 
 tlie chief good, from glowing pictures of the beauty of 
 
and ReligioJi. 15!T 
 
 virtue, or any transient enthusiasm ofphilosoplnc minds? 
 They were the natural effects of that principle in the 
 soul of man which aims at something higher and nobler 
 than the vulgar pursuits or pleasures of the world, 
 which feels the native dignity of the human mind, and 
 which, even amid the clouds of heathen darkness, could 
 find the link that binds earth to heaven. In this view, 
 there cannot be a finer or more improving subject of 
 meditation than the lives of the really good men in the 
 heathen world : there cannot be a finer exemplification 
 of sound and steady principle struggling with difficulty 
 and darkness, or of that firm assurance and faith which, 
 in spite of the most opposite appearances, leads the 
 virtuous to repose in the appointments of Providence, 
 while they are pursuing their high but arduous career. 
 
 That the virtue of these illustrious men received its 
 firmness an.d stability from religious principle, may 
 appear among other things from the reverence and 
 regard which the best and wisest among them paid to 
 the religious institutions of their eountrj'. T'hose insti- 
 tutions were bad, and gave support to the most lament- 
 able superstitions ; yet they were the best with which 
 men were then acquainted ; and it is pleasing to consider 
 how much religious wisdom was still acquired, under 
 all these disadvantages, by the virtuous and contem- 
 plative. 
 
 There cannot, then, be a more grievous mistake, than 
 to suppose that the great characters of ancient times are 
 in any respect exemplifications of the separation of vir- 
 tue from religion : they are perhaps, on the contrary, 
 more striking instances than even the history of Chris- 
 tianity can supply, of the close and intimate union be- 
 
124 (Connection of Morality 
 
 tween these principles ; they are instances of the mighty 
 effects which were produced by concentrating and che- 
 rishing the weak and scattered rays of rehgion then 
 spread over the earth : tlrey are instances of men acting 
 with firmness and resolution on the imperfect principles 
 which they at that time possessed ; holding on in their 
 course with unconquerable spirits ; or, in the language 
 of one of their own poets*, maintaining the integrity and 
 stability of an upright mind, even amidst the ruins of a 
 falling world. 
 
 Having thus, my brethren, endeavoured to show, that 
 a principle nearly allied to religious faith has really at all 
 times been the foundation of true virtue, it surely will 
 not be necessary to prove that our religion opens up the 
 noblest prospects which can possibly be presented to the 
 soul of man. It opens up the boundless prospect of 
 eternity ; it holds out to the eye of virtue never-fading 
 rewards ; and calls upon man to be strenuous in every 
 worthy pursuit, if he would contend for the crown of 
 everlasting life. It points to those heavenly mansions 
 where the good of every age shall meet after this world 
 has passed away. It points to that gracious Saviour 
 who has gone before us, and, who will, on that day, wipe 
 away all tears from all faces. It points to the eternal 
 Father of existence, into whose presence we shall be ad- 
 vanced, and who will smile with unclouded beneficence 
 on his assembled children ! 
 
 Such are the lofty prospects which Christianity places 
 before us as the final consummation of a virtuous life ; 
 
 * Si fractus illabatur orbis 
 Impavidum fcrient ruins. — Hou. 
 
and Religion. 125 
 
 prospects winch remove the veil from the face of Pro- 
 vidence, and place the whole plan of God in a clear and 
 obvious light. 
 
 How beautifully such prospects encourage and esta- 
 blish the virtue of man, will appear chiefly, if we con- 
 sider with what facility they accommodate themselves 
 to all die varying circumstances and conditions of hu- 
 n^an life. The greatest and most prosperous man can- 
 not pretend that he is above them ; the poorest feels that 
 he is ennobled by them, and that they lift him from the 
 dust. They check the presumption of the one, and 
 elevate the soul of the other. They at once sweep away 
 all the petty distinctions of human life, and open the 
 view of that path which all men equally are concerned 
 to tread. Religious instruction alone is equally applica- 
 ble to all descriptions of men. It is heard by the king 
 upon the throne. It visits the obscurity of the cottage. 
 It encourages the poor man to cultivate every good prin- 
 ciple of action, as well as the man of exalted rank ; to 
 aim at the possession of true nobility of mind ; and as- 
 sures him that he too shall reap his reward, if he faint 
 not. 
 
 What then, my brethren, can be so sure or univei'sal 
 a foundation for any scheme of regular and consistent 
 virtue, as that '^ faith by which the just shall livcP^ and 
 how greaUy does it become us, to " holdfast the form 
 of sound words which joe have heard, in faith and lovi- 
 ■which is in Christ Jesus?''' 
 
SERMON XVl. 
 
 THE SAME SUBJECT ILLUSTRATED BY THE CHA- 
 RACTER OF THE GOOD CENTURION. 
 
 MATTHEW, viii. 8. 
 
 *' The centurion answered and said, Lordy I am ?iot 
 xvorthy that thou shouldst come under my roof; but 
 speak the rvord only, and my servant shall be healed.^"* 
 
 THERE are few circumstances, in the writings 
 of the sacred historians, more useful or important, tlian 
 those occasional incidents which they have related con- 
 cerning the conduct and characters of men, who had no 
 immediate connection with the mission of our Saviour. 
 In such instances, we can trace most easily the natural 
 operation of virtue or vice upon the human heart. In 
 the character of our Lord himself, however beautifully 
 it is softened down to the weakness of man, and how- 
 ever natural it appears in the midst of its perfection, 
 there is yet a height and a purity of principle which we 
 can but faintly comprehend, and much more faintly 
 imitate. In the characters of the apostles we discover, 
 indeed, very distinctly, the usual tendencies both of vir- 
 tue and of vice, by which the heart of man is influ- 
 enced ; yet the sphere of action in which they were en- 
 gaged was so singular and lofty, that we are apt to class 
 
Connection of Morality, &fc. 127 
 
 them in our imaginations with a higher order of be- 
 ings, and, in the splendour of their supernatural endow- 
 ments, to lose sight of that common nature by which 
 we are connected with them. 
 
 It is with such characters as the centurion in the text 
 that we can most readily compare ourselves ; men en- 
 gaged in the common professions, and exercising the 
 common duties of life, whose religious impressions 
 were derived from no miraculous call, and who were 
 rather spectators of the great scheme of divine Provi- 
 dence, at that time transacting in the world, than them- 
 selves actively engaged in carrying it on. The inci- 
 dent recorded in the gospel for this day* naturally 
 leads me to make some reflections on the character of 
 that excellent person to whom I have now alluded ; a 
 character simple and unpretending, but in the highest 
 degree estimable, and which drew from him, to whom 
 the human heart was known, that noble and sublime 
 encomium, that he had " not found so great faiths no^ 
 not in Israel.'*'^ 
 
 The leading feature in the mind of this worthy man 
 seems to have been fairness or honesty, which equally 
 influenced him in the conduct of his understanding, and 
 in the regulation of his life. The faith which our Sa- 
 viour commends in him so highly was plainly the 
 result of this disposition. As a Roman citizen, he must 
 have been disposed to look with indifference, if not 
 with contempt, on the religious sects and opinions of a 
 conquered people ; and nothing but that honest love of 
 truth, which seems to have been the guiding principle 
 
 * Third Sunday afier the Epiphany. 
 
128 Connection of Morality 
 
 of his understanding, could have prompted him to in- 
 quire into the foundation of the reports in circulation, 
 concerning; the character and the miracles of Christ. 
 Wlien he made the inquiry, he appears to have conduct- 
 ed it with much coolness and deliberation ; and the 
 firm persuasion in which it terminated, was established 
 in his mind by a natural process of reasoning, derived 
 from the habits of his own life. He himself, he knew, 
 was a man under authority, having soldiers under Iiim ; 
 and, likening the great government of the world to that 
 little part of it with which he was conversant, he now 
 believed that, he had found the chosen minister of hea- 
 ven, to whom all authority was committed over nature 
 and man. 
 
 While the faith of this remarkable person was thus 
 cautious and deliberate, it yet seems to have rested on 
 no superfluous or impertinent curiosity. We have no 
 reason to suppose, from the sacred historians, that he 
 had himself witnessed any of our Lord's wonderful 
 works, or that he had so much as seen him till he went 
 to implore his assistance for the relief of his servant. 
 The fluth, therefore, in which his mind reposed, does 
 not appear to have been of that overwhelming nature 
 which could not be resisted : it was not the faith of the 
 eyes ; but it was more, — it was the faith of the under- 
 standing and of the heart. 
 
 The strength of his faith, indeed, from these sources, 
 seems rather to have made him avoid the opportunity 
 of having any direct intercourse with our Saviour. He 
 was satisfied with hearing of him and worshipping him 
 at a distance ; he felt himself unworthy that so great a 
 person should come undqr his roof; and,. had not the 
 
and Religion. 129 
 
 call of humanity at last forced him to break through his 
 restraint, it is probable that the humility of his mind 
 would have still kept him from entering into the pre- 
 sence of the Master whom in secret he served. It is 
 not to be wondered at then, my brethren, that, when 
 our Lord had conversed with this good centurion, he 
 should have spoken of him with such distinguished 
 approbation ; or that, when he contrasted the genuine 
 and self-taught faith of this unenlightened heathen with 
 the blind and unconquerable incredulity of the chosen 
 people of God, he should indeed have said, that he had 
 ** not found so great faiths no^ not in Israel.^"* 
 
 It is not, however, the greatness of the centurion's 
 faith that is alone admirable. The same just and cor- 
 rect feelings which prompted his belief, freed it like- 
 wise from every thing enthusiastic or extravagant. He 
 had faith enough certainly to have become an apostle, 
 and he could have followed his Lord into prison or to 
 death. But to this office he was not called, and his 
 humility forbade him to aspire. A mind less duly 
 regulated might, in his circumstances, have formed the 
 splendid purpose of preaching the gospel to the gen- 
 tiles ; but his qualifications, he knew, were of a differ- 
 ent description, and the line of his duty had already 
 been marked out by Providence. He was the master of 
 a family, and, in this capacity, had many private duties 
 to perform. He had likewise a public situation ; " he 
 was a man under authority^ having soldiers under him;^^ 
 and, in the faithful discharge of the duties which this 
 office imixjsed upon him, he felt he could be of more 
 essential service to his country and to mankind, than 
 by starting out into a sphere for \\'hich he was not 
 
 R 
 
130 Connection of Morality 
 
 qualified by his previous habits. After having obtained 
 from our Lord, therefore, a favourable answer to his 
 request, he immediately returns to the duties which he 
 had left behind him ; he is no more mentioned in the 
 history of our religion ; his name even is unknown, like 
 the names of innumerable worthy individuals which are 
 nowhere preserved in the records of men, but which 
 are written in the books of God. 
 
 How well the humble duties of his station were per- 
 formed ; how admirably the character of his life cor- 
 responded with his religious impressions ; how plainly 
 the same principle of a conscientious and honest mind 
 led to both, will appear evidently from the short notices 
 of his private history which the evangelists have left 
 us. It is evident, in the first place, that he was well 
 acquainted with his own public duty, and enforced the 
 performance of their duty upon others. " I am a man 
 under authority (says he), having soldiers under me^ and 
 I say unto this man, Go, and he goeth ; and to another , 
 Come, and he cometh ; and to my servant, Do this, 
 and he doeth it.^^ He was, therefore, deserving of trust 
 in a public station ; orderly and active in having the bu- 
 siness of it performed ; and employing those only on 
 whose obedience and alacrity he could depend. 
 
 While he was thus steady in enforcing the obedience 
 of those under his authority, his kindness and humanity 
 is equally apparent. His authority was strict, but it was 
 merciful and compassionate. Nothing can be a plainer 
 proof of this than the interest which he took in the sick- 
 ness of his servant. We often hear in the Gospels of 
 men applying to our Lord for the relief of their own in- 
 firmities, or those of their near relations, but, perhaps, 
 
and Religion. 131 
 
 this is the single instance of a similar application being 
 made in the case of a servant. " And this (as is well 
 observed by a venerable prelate*) is the more remark- 
 able, and the more honourable to the centurion, be- 
 cause, in general, the treatment which the servants of 
 the Romans experienced from their masters, was very- 
 different indeed from what we see in the present in- 
 stance. These servants were almost all of them slaves, 
 and were too commonly treated with extreme rigour 
 and cruelty. They were often strained to labour be- 
 yond their strength ; were confined to loathsome dun- 
 geons ; were loaded with chains ; were scourged and 
 tortured without reason ; were deserted in sickness and 
 old age ; and put to death for trivial faults and slight 
 suspicions, and sometimes out of mere wantonness and 
 cruelty. Such barbarity as this, which was at that time 
 by no means uncommon, forms a most striking contrast 
 to the kindness and compassion of the centurion, who, 
 though he had so much power over his slaves, and so 
 many instances of its severest exertion before his eyes, 
 made use of it, as we here see, not for their oppression 
 and destruction, but their happiness, comfort, and pre- 
 servation." 
 
 A more public instance of this man's worth is men- 
 tioned by St. Luke. In his relation of the. same in- 
 cident, we are informed, that, *' when the centurion 
 heard of Jesus, he sent unto him the elders of the Jews, 
 beseeching him that he would come and heal his servant. 
 And when they came to Jesus^ they besought him in- 
 stantlyy saying, that he was worthy for whom he should 
 
 * Bishop of London's Lectures. 
 
132 ConnectioJt of Morality 
 
 do this ; for he loveth our nation, and he hath built us a 
 synagogue.''^ There is something very striking in this 
 circumstance. The centurion, a Roman soldier, loved 
 the nation of the Jews, a people whom the Romans held 
 in contempt and abhorrence. It does not at all appear that 
 he himself had become a cor^vert to the Jewish religion. 
 Although his mind had been deeply impressed by the 
 character and the actions of Christ, it is likely that he 
 never thought of examining the pretensions of the Mo- 
 saic law. This, however, was the religion of the peo- 
 ple among whom he resided, and over whom he exer- 
 cised a command, and, as such, he protected and en- 
 couraged it. It appears that, although a gentile, he in 
 return gained their affections ; " he is worthy (said they) 
 for whom thou shouldest do this ; for he loveth our na^ 
 tion, and he hath built us a synagogue.'''* No more ho- 
 nourable testimony could be brought to the distinguish, 
 ed integrity and benevolence of this conscientious man ; 
 and no more beautiful proof can be found, that genuine 
 goodness will conquer the most stubborn prejudices; 
 will overleap the distinctions of sect or country ; and, 
 in whatever spot of the earth it is placed, will find the 
 tie which connects it with the great brotherhood of man- 
 kind, and will gain, in return, that reward which it best 
 loves, the cordial gratitude of those whom it protects 
 and fosters. 
 
 Such, my brethren, is a very imperfect sketch of the 
 character of this good centurion. It is a character un- 
 doubtedly uncommon, yet it is one which is easily open 
 to the imitation of every human being. In order to at- 
 tain it, no splendid abilities are requisite, no high exer- 
 tions. It is simply the character of a man who is stea- 
 
and Religion . 133 
 
 dily attentive to the voice of conscience, who, in obe- 
 dience to that voice regulates his rehgious impressions, 
 and forms the conduct of his life. It is a character 
 therefore highly deserving our most serious attention. 
 In the faith of the centurion, you see the natural result 
 of this fairness of mind exerted upon the subject of re- 
 ligion. You see it contemplating, with just apprecia- 
 tion, those appearances which were presented to it; rea- 
 soning, indeed, but reasoning with simplicity; not seek- 
 ing to overpower the evidence on which it commented 
 by injurious sophistry, but rather satisfied with less 
 evidence than it could easily have attained. You see 
 this steady and sound faith, leading its possessor to no 
 wandering or enthusiastic fanaticism ; not calling him 
 to desert the unnoticed duties of common life : send- 
 ing him back, on the contrary, to fill his station in so- 
 ciety with new and redoubled vigour, and comforting 
 him with the sublime thought, that in the most private 
 offices of humanity, as well as in the greatest and most 
 conspicuous, he might still be *' a fellow xvorker with 
 God.'*^ In the life of the centurion, you see the inse- 
 parable connection between faith and works, or the same 
 principle of conscience which guided his understanding 
 to truth, regulating every department of his conduct. 
 You see these tilings, my brethren, and they are 
 given to you as an example, and they call upon you to 
 ** go and do likewise,'''' 
 
 I shall only observe, in conclusion, that our advan- 
 tages are in some respects superior to those possessed 
 by the good centurion. His early years were passed 
 under the darkness of idolatry, and it was only after he 
 was advanced in life that his eyes were opened to that 
 
134 t^onnection of Morality ^ &fc. 
 
 " light which has come into the rvorld.^^ We indeed 
 have been accounted unworthy (as he had the humility 
 to esteem himself) that our Lord should enter under our 
 roofs ; but from the period of our infancy we have been 
 in possession of those words which have conveyed the 
 voice of healing to ourselves and our houses. Let us, 
 my brethren, profit as we ought from this advantage, 
 that we may not be numbered among *' those children 
 of the kingdom who shall be cast out into outer dark' 
 ness," but among that innumerable multitude " which 
 shall come from the east and from the west^ and shall sit 
 down with Abraham, and Isaac, and Jacob, in the king- 
 dom of heaven /'* 
 
SERMON XVII. 
 
 ON CHRISTIAN CHARITY, AS IT INFLUENCES OUR 
 JUDGMENTS OF EACH OTHER. 
 
 MATTHEW, vii. 1. 
 
 *' Judge not, that ye be not judged."*^ 
 
 THE great law of Christian charity is both too 
 little understood, and too little practised. Men will 
 not so far enlarge their minds» as to acknowledge its 
 beauty and excellence ; but, contemplating the vices 
 which prevail in the world, they are apt to believe that 
 charity to the offenders is nothing but weakness. In 
 our practice, it is evident that we are constantly liable 
 to magnify our own good qualities, and to look with too 
 great abhorrence on the imperfections of others. In- 
 deed so vain a creature is man, that there is scarcely 
 any quality, however insignificant, that will not help to 
 raise him in his own conceit ; while there are scarcely 
 any virtues so transcendent and estimable, that will 
 secure his neighbour from becoming the object of his 
 hasty censures. 
 
 It is my view at present to point out the reasonable- 
 ness and excellence of charity, and then to enforce the 
 practice of this virtue. Let us then, my brethren, begin 
 
136 On Christian Charity, 
 
 with considering those aspects of human nature which 
 present themselves to us, wherever we throw our eyes 
 over this wonderful world. We everywhere behold a 
 being beginning in helplessness and weakness, smiling 
 on the looks of maternal affection, or crying from the 
 early sense of misery. This creature unfolds its facul- 
 ties with its years ; and before it well knows where it is, 
 the seeds of vice have been scattered in its soul. In 
 some happy minds, the generous shoots of virtue, the 
 early blossoms of wisdom, rise with beautiful regularity 
 over the weeds which entangle their progress ; but the 
 human character in general is a disorderly scene, run- 
 ning wild into extravagant passions, or cold, barren, 
 and unfruitful. 
 
 Yet, in however sad a condition, into whatever dis- 
 order man is thrown, he still retains some vestiges of 
 his high original, and never seems entirely lost to the 
 sense of good. When he is a martyr to vice, he hangs 
 his head, and blushes with the consciousness which 
 oppresses him ; and if he should be unable to cast off 
 the yoke, he yet shows that it is grievous to be borne. 
 The most shameless characters will, in general, be 
 found to be those who have had the least opportunity of 
 knowing what is good ; who, from the misfortunes of 
 theif childhood, have been thrown loose upon society, 
 and accustomed from their earliest years to low and 
 degenerate infamy. Indeed, on whatever forms of vice 
 we fix our attention, something will occur to palliate ; 
 no man will appear radically and innately bad ; and the 
 race of men in general will seem rather to be labouring 
 under a heavy misfortune, than to be the objects of 
 unrelenting vengeance. 
 
On Chtistian Charity. 137 
 
 If then, my brethren, we could assume the station of 
 some superior being, qualified to sit as judge on man, 
 himself exempt from human weaknesses, and only the 
 spectator of human conduct, even from such a station 
 we could scarcely look down on this poor mortal crea- 
 ture with any other emotions than those of tenderness 
 and pity. True : we should be astonished with the 
 view of extravagant folly ; we should be shocked with 
 the sight of detestable guilt ; we should be confounded 
 with seeing a creature formed to be good and liappy, 
 immersing itself in depravity, and running headlong to 
 destruction. Yet there would be always something in 
 man which would make pity predominate ; and when 
 we gazed in horror at the hardened ruffian, dealing in 
 blood and breathing fury, we should still recollect the 
 innocent playfulness of the same creature, while yet a 
 child in its mother's arms. 
 
 Such seems to be the aspect in which man has ap- 
 peared to the great Being from whom he originally pro- 
 ceeded, and, who, notwithstanding all his wanderings, 
 has yet not discarded for ever this prodigal son. Some 
 beings, we are told, of a higher nature than ours, have 
 lost themselves so far, and have been guilty of such 
 flagrant disobedience, that the Almighty has abandoned 
 them to destruction. But to man an extraordinary 
 rescue has been granted, and the most compassionate 
 of all Beings has been sent into the world, to instruct, 
 to comfort, and to die for him. Solicitations and en- 
 treaties have been made to call in the greatest sinners ; 
 and no human being appears too mean and despicable 
 to receive the offer of heaven and of eternal happiness. 
 
 s 
 
138 On Christian C/iarity. 
 
 Such is man in the eye of God ; what, then ought he 
 to be in the eye of man ? Wilt thou pretend to des- 
 pise him whom God esteems so highly ? and wilt thou 
 judge harshly of the brother, for whom Christ has 
 died ? If superior beings were to regard the vices of 
 man with detestation merely, unmixed with pity ; if 
 God were to leave him to his own devices, and to that 
 destruction which he so often seems to court, what an- 
 swer could be made, and who should dare to arraign the 
 justice of the Most High ? But thou, O man, who art 
 thyself spotted with iniquity, wilt diou pretend to look 
 Avith cold and contemptuous severity on the failings of 
 thy brother? When God himself has consented to 
 sink his indignation against sin in his pity for the of- 
 fender; when the good angels look down upon their 
 earthly brethren with kind wishes for their success, and 
 with sorrow for their failings, wilt thou, who thyself 
 requirest all this mercy and pity, fix upon any one of 
 the human race a severe or contemptuous eye ? I 
 know what thou wilt say, that thou art not as other men 
 are, extortioners, unjust, adulterers, or even as this 
 publican : thou fastest Xw ice in the week ; thou givest 
 tythes of all that thou possessest : yet the publican, 
 who standeth afar off, and will not lift up so much as 
 his eyes to heaven, but smiteth on his breast, saying, 
 God be merciful to me, a sinner ; this man will go 
 down to his house justified rather than thou. 
 
 Indeed, my brethren, the circumstance, which is 
 one of the fundamental tenets of Christianity, that 
 every man is a sinner, — this circumstance affords an 
 unanswerable argument for mutual charity and forbear- 
 ance, and ought to dispose every one to judge as fa- 
 
On Christian Charity » 139 
 
 vourably of his neighbour as he possibly can. If I 
 have been guilty of innumerable vices ; have every 
 day done those things which I ought not to have done, 
 and left undone those things which I ought to have 
 done ; is it at all to be tolerated, that, instead of being 
 afflicted for my own transgressions, I should pore upon 
 those of my surrounding brethren ? Am I, who have 
 myself a corrupted nature, whose judgment is vitiated 
 by disorderly passions, who have a kind of unnatural 
 satisfaction in discovering the vices of others, that I 
 may appear more perfect in my own eyes ; am I, in 
 any respect, a competent judge of the real merits of any 
 one of mankind ? Some subordinate judgments, in- 
 deed, we must form, sufficient to guide us in our con- 
 duct among men ; we must learn whom to consort 
 with, and whom to avoid ; the nature of society re- 
 quires that we should be separated into nations, and 
 parties, and sects ; and the purest principles of Chris- 
 tianity will always be found to accommodate themselves 
 to the state of the world in which we live. But, in all 
 our judgments and decisions upon men, we must never 
 proceed beyond what is plain and apparent ; we must 
 not too finely trace the outward qualities to their radical 
 recesses in tlie heart, nor pretend to say any thing of 
 the soul, that sacred and immortal thing, which spurns 
 at the judgments of men, while it trembles before those 
 of God. 
 
 On this subject, my brethren, it is scarcely possible 
 to avoid touching on a point which has occasioned more 
 want of charity than perhaps any other in the world : I 
 mean religious dissentions. And yet it is strange, that 
 religious men should split upon this rock, when they 
 
140 On Christian Charity, 
 
 are expressly told, that " charity is the end of the com- 
 mandment.^^ This malignant spirit is supported by a 
 sort of reasoning, which, at first sight, seems abundant- 
 ly conclusive, but which, if it were just, would be ex- 
 actly the strongest thing that could be urged against re- 
 ligion, since nothing can bring religion into so much 
 discredit, with men of good sense and hearts, as the 
 dark and gloomy spirit which sometimes seems to in- 
 spire its adherents. The sort of reasoning alluded to is 
 this : — there are certain doctrines urged in scripture as 
 necessary points of faith ; some men retain these, and 
 others lose sight of them ; and the believers, according- 
 ly, think themselves entided to reprobate those who err 
 from the true creed. But this fearless kind of reason- 
 ing rests entirely on the idea, that a point of faith is of 
 any consequence whatever, while it continues an empty 
 speculation in the head, without producing a due effect 
 on the heart and dispositions ; an idea the most wild and 
 extravagant. As if the Author of our religion had any 
 desire to make us very skilful and knowing, in respect 
 to the world of spirits, and did not merely inform us of 
 those things, the knowledge of which might render us 
 better men. Whatever points of faith, then, we may 
 have attained, let us never presume to think ourselves 
 above those to whom these things may yet be hidden, 
 unless we are conscious of some real improvement in 
 our lives, corresponding to the faith which we have at- 
 tained. On the contrary, let us rather confess, with hu- 
 miliation, how little influence our faith has upon our 
 lives ; and, instead of being ready to condemn those 
 who differ in belief from ourselves, let us rather fear, 
 
On Christian Charity. 141 
 
 that, at the great day of reckoning, we may be found to 
 have believed more, and yet to have performed less. 
 
 The only objection which, as I conceive, can be 
 urged with any plausibility against all this doctrine is, 
 that it tends to throw too great laxity into our moral 
 judgments,— that it detracts from the dignity of virtue, 
 and may loosen the foundations of faith. For it may be 
 said, that if we acquire a habit of being gentle to the 
 vices of others, we shall certainly be more ready to pass 
 but a slight censure on our own ; and if we do not pur- 
 sue improper opinions with an indignant zeal, we shall 
 be too apt to lose our ardour in the cause of religion. 
 
 Now, it must certainly be granted, that a man may 
 very possibly fall into an indolent unconcern about all 
 principle whatever ; and that, in this state of mind, he 
 may conceive himself to be very charitably disposed 
 towards all the errors in human conduct or opinion, 
 when he is only very indifferent about what men either 
 think or do. But this defect in moral principle is not 
 charity ; for that eminent quality will always be found 
 to exist in the highest perfection in the minds of those 
 whose virtue is the most pure. Such men do not shut 
 their eyes on the vices of others, or look on those vices 
 with indifference and unconcern. They condemn the 
 crime, but they spare the criminal, and are very far 
 from supposing the worst motives, when better may be 
 suggested. It is, indeed, the steady pursuit of virtue 
 in their own conduct, which prevents them from search- 
 ing too busily into the secrets of other men's hearts : 
 having a great enterprize to perform themselves, they 
 have no time to spare for those nice investigations. One 
 observation is undeniable, that lie who was the great 
 
142 On Christian Charity. 
 
 pattern of human virtue, and who perfectly understood 
 all the polluted sources of human conduct, was yet 
 more remarkable for the most indulgent charity than 
 perhaps for any one quality whatever; and if, in the 
 whole course of his conversation among men, he was 
 ever induced to utter so much as a harsh expression, it 
 was on those occasions only, when he was shocked with 
 perceiving a want of charity in others. 
 
 Having stated, in this general way, the reasonable- 
 ness and excellence of universal charity, and the small 
 ground which any man has to pass a severe judgment 
 on his neighbour in any one point whatever, I proceed 
 to enforce the practice of this virtue. And, first, it may 
 be enforced from the comfort and satisfaction which it 
 will naturally give to the minds of those who cultivate 
 it. What can be a more desirable turn of mind than 
 to think the best we can of every one with whom we 
 have any connection ; to have a satisfaction in discover- 
 ing his virtues ; and to hope that his vices are not radi- 
 cal and incurable ? Such a disposition, while it is quite 
 free from the imputation of weakness and want of dis- 
 cernment, is sufficient to keep us always alert and 
 cheerful, free from morose and harsh opinions, on a 
 good footing with the world and with ourselves. If we 
 are disposed to look for it, much virtue we shall un- 
 doubtedly find ; and, in general, the vices of men will 
 appear to be so intermingled with good qualities, that 
 we shall always find something pleasing to relieve our 
 minds amid the shades of the darkest picture. On the 
 contrary, nothing can afford more discomfort to the 
 mind than the uncharitable passions, such as suspicion, 
 fear, and religious bigotry. 
 
On Christian Charity. 14'3 
 
 But, secondly, if we cannot be incited to a charitable 
 disposition by the pleasure attending it in this life, let 
 us be stirred up to it by the apprehension of the judg- 
 ment to come, which is the argument of the text. 
 " Judge not J that ye be not judged."*^ We shall have 
 enough to answer for at that awful period. Our imper- 
 fect devotion ; our irregular lives ; our constant attach- 
 ment to the fashion of this world, which passeth away, 
 — such habitual deficiencies, with many other particular 
 sins, will then rise up against us, and can only be 
 blotted out by the merits of our Redeemer. Let us 
 not add to the shameful catalogue, dark and malignant 
 judgments concerning each other ; but, as we hope on 
 that day to be saved by love, let us now show that we 
 have some feeling of the principle which alone can then 
 be our protection. 
 
<%M«a:^ 
 
 SERMON XVIII. 
 
 ON CHRISTIAN CHARITY, AS IT INFLUENCES 
 CONDUCT. 
 
 ST. JOHN, xiii. 34. 
 
 '' A new commandment I give unto you^ that ye love 
 one another.'''* 
 
 IT may seem somewhat extraordinary that this 
 should be called a new commandment, or that any re- 
 velation should be requisite for the purpose of bringing 
 home to the human heart those principles upon which 
 the love of mankind depends. That the principles of 
 piety cannot be well inculcated without some sort of 
 divine discipline, may appear sufficiently plain ; but na- 
 ture, we may imagine, surely leaves us at no loss re- 
 specting those affections which ought to prevail between 
 man and man. The seeds of justice and humanity are 
 sown in our frame ; and although we may very often be 
 defective in our practice of those virtues, yet we can 
 scarcely, it may be thought, remain blind to their 
 obligation. 
 
 It is this view which seems to have misled several 
 philosophical inquirers in modern times, who, while they 
 have enlightened the world with many excellent obser- 
 
On Christian Charity. 145 
 
 vations on social duty, have not, however, perceived that 
 they are at all indebted to Christianity for the principles 
 upon which they proceed. Yet it would be deserving 
 their consideration, whence it has happened that they are 
 so mucli better instructed in these particulars than the 
 wise men of the heathen world ; or why, among errors 
 and extravagancies of their own, they have yet scarcely 
 advanced one solid position, the prototype of which is 
 not to be found in the gospel ? 
 
 The peculiar advantage of the law of Christian cha- 
 rity consists in the universality of its application. In 
 the first place, the whole system of fair and equitable 
 dealing is comprehended in the maxim, that we should 
 do to others whatsoever we would that they should do 
 to us. It is impossible that we should ever injure a 
 fellow- creature if this rule were carefully observed. 
 Considering what, in his circumstances, we should have 
 a right to expect as our due, we cannot but perceive 
 the monstrous injustice of refusing it to him. The ob- 
 servation of this maxim would at once banish every 
 thing like wrong out of the world ; and the whole con- 
 duct of mankind would be regulated by principles of 
 the strictest justice. 
 
 In the second place, the maxim that we should love 
 our neighbour as ourselves, carries us much farther. 
 By this we are not only prohibited from doing wrong, 
 or commanded to fill up the measure of equity, but we 
 are excited to acts of extensive beneficence. Our 
 Saviour's answer to the question, Who is my neigh- 
 bour ? shows very plainly how far this commandment 
 reaches, and points out, in the most touching manner, 
 
 r 
 
J 46 On Christian Charity. 
 
 that wbeiever \vc can find an opportunity of doing good, 
 there our neidibour is also to be found. 
 
 o 
 
 The third maxim, which completes this system of 
 benevolence, carries us as far as it is possible to go, and 
 much farther than men conceived their duty required 
 before the gospel was introduced into the world. " Ye 
 have heard that it hath been said. Thou shalt love thy 
 neighbour and hate thine enemy ; but I say unto you^ 
 Love your enemies^ bless them that curse you, do good 
 to them that hate you, and pray for them which despite- 
 fully use you and persecute you.^"* In this rule of en- 
 lightened morality, we are taught to overlook, in some 
 degree, the distinctions in the characters of men ; to 
 disregard the accidental variances and oppositions into 
 which we may happen to be thrown in this world ; and, 
 amidst all the vices and follies which may be prevalent 
 around us, and amidst all the hostility which it may be 
 our lot to encounter, still to contemplate, with affec- 
 tionate regard, that common bond of human nature by 
 which every one man is united to every other. 
 
 It has been justly objected to some modern systems 
 of benevolence, that while they inculcate an unaccounta- 
 ble regard for the interests of the human race in general, 
 and make that the only principle of action, they in a 
 great degree tend to extirpate all those private feelings 
 and affections by which alone human society is main- 
 tained. But while the charity inculcated in the gospel 
 is as comprehensive as can be conceived, it is by no 
 means liable to this objection. Every good affection of 
 the heart, love to parents, and benefiictors, and friends, 
 is encouraged and promoted by it. It is most assuredly 
 
On Christian Charity. 147 
 
 our duty to befriend virtue, and to oppose vice : while 
 we have enemies we must resist them, nor can we avoid 
 feeling the natural sentiments of resentment and indig- 
 nation : Christianity supersedes not any one of those 
 principles of our nature, though it regulates and re- 
 strains them all: it has always protected, never unhinged 
 the established order of the world ; the general interests 
 of mankind, it instructs us, are in higher hands than 
 ours; and every man, promotes them best while he 
 keeps the station in which Providence has placed him. 
 Yet, amidst all this attention to every private feeling na- 
 tural to man, amidst all its regard for the order, and evei* 
 for the prejudices of society, Christianity teaches us a 
 still higher lesson ; and, leading us at times to forget that 
 we ourselves are actors in this busy and distracted scene, 
 it lifts us to that serene eminence from which we may 
 contemplate all the conduct of man with the temper 
 and benevolence of Heaven. It is perhaps in our medi- 
 tations alone that we can reach those feelings of exten- 
 sive charity ; yet these meditations are not without their 
 influence on our practice, and restore us to the inter- 
 course of men, with the wish and resolution to " love 
 niuch,^'' " to suffer /ong,^^ " and to hope all things.''^ 
 
 Such, my brethren, is a very faint exposition of 
 Christian charity, or of those affections which our reli- 
 gion inculcates, as due from man to man. The system 
 commonly prevalent in the world, it is evident, is of d 
 very different nature. Men are, in general, very partial 
 in their affections, indulgent to some, and quite inatten- 
 tive to the feelings of others; few are disposed to engage 
 heartily and perseveringly in the practice of beneficence ; 
 hatreds and animosities, of the most irreconcilcable na- 
 
148 On Christian Charity, 
 
 ture, frequently rising from the most trivial causes, 
 generally prevail ; and it is difficult to find a person who 
 will for a moment allow himself to suspect, that, in 
 those differences, there is any possibility he may be in 
 the wrong. 
 
 If men will examine themselves, they will according- 
 ly find, that there is very wide scope for divine instruc- 
 tion in this extensive branch of their duty ; and surely, 
 to listen to such instruction ought to be an employment 
 of the greatest pleasure and delight. What more de- 
 lightful, than to feel that we may live in love and har- 
 mony with our brethren ; that there is no insuperable 
 bar dividing the hearts of men from each other ; and 
 that there are certain plain rules, which, if impressed 
 upon every individual, would infallibly convert the 
 world into a region of love and happiness ? 
 
 But, perhaps, you complain of the ingratitude of man- 
 kind, and say, that although you were to love them, 
 they will not love you in return. You will say, per- 
 haps, that, in early youth, you gave way to the kindly 
 emotions of your nature ; that you saw little vice in the 
 world, and expected much frie!>dship ; you were suspi- 
 cious of none, and kind to all: but experience has taught 
 you another lesson ; you have met with much deceit, 
 and much ingratitude ; in spite of your feelings, your 
 heart has been contracted, and you now find it wisdom 
 to be as regardless of others, as they have been of you. 
 This, my brethren, is a complaint which is not unfre- 
 quently made ; but I suspect not often with much foun- 
 dation. They who complain so much of the ingratitude 
 of mankind, have seldom been hearty in their service. 
 They fix upon a few instances of disappointment in 
 
On Christian Charity. 149 
 
 their expectations, and these they magnify beyond all 
 measure. The world is bad enough ; but it contains 
 much gratitude. There probably never was any man who 
 sincerely engaged in the service of mankind, without 
 receiving testimonies of gratitude, which have over- 
 whelmed his heart. 
 
 Reflections of this nature are particularly incumbent 
 upon those who are about to kneel down at the altar of 
 Christ*. As his example is the great model of all vir- 
 tue, so is it in nothing more conspicuous than in the 
 purest love to mankind ; and the service in which some 
 of us are now to be engaged, is the commemoration of 
 the most signal instance of that love. We are going to 
 stand at the foot of his cross, to behold the sufferings 
 which he endured for our sake, and to partake in the 
 benefit of his body and blood. Can we, my brethren, 
 approach to this holy service, and retain in our hearts 
 any malice to any one of the human race ? Shall we not 
 here, if anywhere, forgive our brethren their trespasses, 
 when we behold the pledge that ours have been for- 
 given ? Shall we complain of the ingratitude of men, 
 when we hear our Lord praying for his enemies in the 
 midst of his agony, and saying, '''■ Father, Jorgive them^ 
 for they know not xvhat they do ?" Or, shall we not be 
 prompted to perform all the good within our limited 
 power, when we are contemplating that beneficence 
 which embraced a \vorld ? 
 
 * I'reacheil hi^forc the Communion.- 
 
SERMON XIX. 
 
 ON THE LESSONS TO BE LEARNED FROM THE 
 AFFLICTIONS OF LIFE. 
 
 ECCLESIASTES, vii. 2. 
 
 " It is better to go to the house oy mourning, than to the 
 house of feasting ; for that is the end of all men, and 
 the living ivill lay it to his heart J*"* 
 
 MEN of an irreligious turn of mind frequently 
 raise objections against the goodness of God, from the 
 multiplicity of evils and distresses with which human 
 life abounds. Men of piety, on the contrary, behold, 
 in this very circumstance, some of the most conspicu- 
 ous proofs of a watchful and kind providence; and from 
 the bosom of grief and wretchedness, they derive their 
 strongest hopes and firmest reliance on the protection of 
 their heavenly Father. Nothing, indeed, can be more 
 certain, than that the heart of man frequently requires to 
 be corrected ; that when every thing in this world pro- 
 ceeds in an even and prosperous course, then the heart 
 is most infirm, and most liable to sink under tempta- 
 tion ; and that, in these circumstances, the bitter potion 
 of adversity is by far the most salutary medicine which 
 can be administered for its cure. 
 
On the AffiictioJis of Life, 151 
 
 • While, therefore, in such afflicting dispensations, men 
 of profane minds sec nothing but the cruel hand of a 
 blind and undistinguishing fatality, those who are in- 
 fluenced by the sentiments of religion perceive, on those 
 occasions, most clearly the kind interference of the phy- 
 sician of their souls ; and if they have lost sight of him 
 in their hours of gaiety and pleasure, are sure again to 
 become conscious of his visitations in the season of per- 
 plexity and trouble. 
 
 But although the evils incident to man might thus be 
 shown to be a most necessary part of the divine dispen- 
 sations, it is, at the same time, to be remarked, that, 
 although very various and greatly multiplied, they yet 
 by no means constitute the leading features of human 
 life; even in this imperfect condition, in this lower stage 
 of our existence, ease and tranquillity are the portion of 
 mankind in general ; and if some are more peculiarly 
 marked out for misery, while it is in their power to 
 profit by their troubles, and " to come forth like gold 
 ■when they are tried,^'* others may derive great instruc- 
 tion, from merely contemplating their distresses. This 
 milder discipline, this acquaintance with human misery, 
 which is to be learned from observing it in other men, 
 this method of acquiring wisdom, which may often ob- 
 viate the necessity for our being subjected by Pro- 
 vidence to any very severe chastisements in our own 
 persons, is recommended to all men by Solomon in the 
 text ; and he enforces it by a comparison, which must 
 universally be felt, because it appeals immediately to the 
 ruling propensities of our nature. We all love pleasure, 
 mirth, and gaiety; love to have our hearts lightened, our 
 cares cast aside; to have no fears for the future, no melan- 
 
152 On the Afflictions of Life, 
 
 choly recollections of the past; and to grasp the fleeting 
 enjoyments of the present moment. All men, in a word, 
 love to frequent what the wise man calls the " house of 
 feasting:'''' now, to show in a striking manner the ad- 
 vantages to be derived from an acquaintance with hu- 
 man misery, he declares, that " it is better to go to the 
 house of mourning.''^ 
 
 It is apparent, indeed, at the first view, that the 
 " house of mourning''^ is a school of serious thought and 
 reflection; a school, too, which at all times" stands open 
 for our reception, and in which wemay learn our les- 
 sons without cost or pains. In " the house of feasting y"*"- 
 we evidently do not learn to think, but rather have our 
 thoughts lost and dissipated ; and, while we gain no- 
 thing substantial there, we are often betrayed into the 
 forfeiture of our respectability and our virtue. I do not, 
 however, propose at present to continue this compari- 
 son ; it will be more useful to consider with attention 
 a few of the lessons \vith which the house of mourning 
 may supply us, and to which the words of the text 
 particularly direct our thoughts. 
 
 We are desired to go to '* the house of mournings for 
 that is the end of ail men^ and the living will lay it to 
 his heart.'''' In these words, I conceive three things to 
 be either implied or expressed. — The advice that we 
 should "5*0 to the house of mourning^'' supposes that 
 we shall sympathize with the sufferings of those who 
 mourn. — " For that is the end of all inen,^^ is a senti- 
 ment expressive of pity and love to mankind. — " Afid 
 the living will lay it to his heart.'''' These words infer 
 religious wisdom as the great improvement to be made 
 from all the scenes of human misery. Sympathy, cha- 
 
On the Afflictions of Life, 153 
 
 rity, and religion, are therefore the three most important, 
 lessons to be learnt in the house of mourning, and who- 
 ever learns these, will be fully instructed in the whole 
 duty of man. 
 
 The house of mourning, then, is the school of sym- 
 pathy. This disposition is natural to man, and is the 
 most lovely part of our nature. But in no particular 
 are our hearts more liable to be corrupted and vitiated ; 
 as we proceed in the world, our affections are ever 
 prone to be concentrated upon ourselves, and selfish- 
 ness, that most fatal depravation of our nature, is at all 
 times too ready to seize upon us. We are encouraged 
 in it by many circumstances. Sometimes pride, or a 
 high opinion of ourselves, renders us indifferent to the 
 feelings of others ; sometimes the pursuit of pleasure 
 subjects all our affections to our own paltry gratifica- 
 tions ; or the cares and business of the world occupy all 
 our thoughts, and leave us no room for considering the 
 desires and wishes of our brethren ; or, finally, mere 
 indolence may often indispose us from giving that 
 attention to the concerns of other men, which may bring 
 trouble and uneasiness to ourselves. 
 
 To put a stop to the course of this depravity, nothing- 
 can be more effectual than going to the house of mourn- 
 ing, than beholding the sufferings of our fellow-crea- 
 tures, and permitting our hearts to be penetrated by the 
 natural sentiments of humanity. It is owing to our 
 ignorance, or our forgetfulness of the distresses which 
 everywhere surround us, that we are rendered so indif- 
 ferent as we often are to the feelings of each other, and 
 wrap ourselves up in thoughtless insensibility. If we 
 would inquire into them with diligence, and look at 
 
 u 
 
154 On the Affiictions of Life. 
 
 them with our own eyes, it is impossible but that our 
 hearts must be affected, and that we must feel as it 
 becomes men. There is no need, to be sure, for a 
 weak and sickly sensibility ; that disposition is more 
 frequently employed in finding out food for the fancy, 
 than in mending the heart. But a luxurious indulgence 
 of the softer feelings is never produced by the sight of 
 real misery. The sympathy which is drawn out by 
 real suffering, is always accompanied by a sense of 
 duties to be peiformed ; it never stagnates in the breast 
 idly inactive, but flows out in beneficent exertions. 
 
 In the second place : the house of mourning is the 
 great school of charity, or of that love to our fellow- 
 creatures which overlooks all distinctions, and views 
 them in the single and endearing aspect of men and 
 brethren. " For that is the end of all men.'*'' — These 
 striking words level all disparities, and place every 
 human being on a footing of equality. We are all 
 weak, frail, mortal creatures: here is our point of union, 
 in whatever else we may differ. One man is rich, and 
 another is poor ; one man ^ays the rod of empire, and 
 another drags out his life in abject slavery ; the mind 
 of one glows with enlightened views and liberal attain- 
 ments, while dulness and stupidity cloud the apprehen- 
 sions of another. Farther still : one man is virtuous, 
 and another is wicked ; one bends before the throne of 
 God, and acknowledges the power that made him, 
 Nvhile another pursues his depraved inclinations, and 
 diinks not of the account which he must render to his 
 Judge. Such are the distinctions which prevail in the 
 world ; and men become elated with such distinctions, 
 «nd grow vain in their own conceits, *' and their foolish 
 
On the Afflictions of Life. 155 
 
 hearts are darkened.''^ In consequence of these disor- 
 derly thoughts, want of charity prevails ; men lose sight 
 of the common tie which binds them together; and one 
 half of the world looks down upon the other, as unwor- 
 thy its notice and regard. 
 
 Hast thou lost sight of that common tie ? Go then 
 to the " house of mourning^'*'' and be no longer a fool. 
 Those distinctions which excite thy pride, and lead thee 
 to despise thy neighbour, what are they ? They may 
 serve thee to boast of through a short and fleeting life ; 
 but will they save thee from the common destiny, which 
 marks thee out a frail and perishing creature ? In " the 
 house of mourning''^ thou wilt see that circumstance in 
 which all men are assimilated ; the bond of weakness 
 and misery by which all are connected. Thy wealth, 
 thy power, thy abilities, even thy virtue, and thy reli- 
 gion, are all subjected to the frailty of thy mortal state; 
 an uncertain and precarious existence enters equally into 
 the description of every man, and in this aflfecting cir- 
 cumstance we may see the true foundation of brotherly 
 union and love. 
 
 I proceed, in the third place, to show, that, in the 
 house of mourning, we learn the best lessons of religi- 
 ous wisdom ; " for that is the end of all men, and the 
 living will lay it to his heart. ^^ Why should he lay it 
 to his heart, unless there were something beyond this 
 *' end of all men .*'" If the curtain closed in the house 
 of mourning for ever, it would be better to drive away 
 from our hearts than to lay to them, a reflection which 
 would only be melancholy, and could be productive of 
 no good ; and, accordingly, such is the use which some 
 men of the gayer sort have made, from contemplating 
 
156 On the Afflictions of Life, 
 
 the house of mourning. They have drawn from the 
 consideration of the shortness of life, arguments for the 
 freer eiijoyment of it while it lasts: " Let us eat and 
 drink (they say), for to-morrow we die." But this is 
 vanity and delusion, and is never the voice of nature. 
 The natural effect of the house of mourning is to throw 
 us into sober reflection ; to call back our scattered 
 thoughts ; to make us feel our present weakness ; and 
 to turn our eyes with serious apprehension to the awful 
 events of futurity. 
 
 Two impressions particularly favourable to religion, 
 humility and hope, are forced upon the mind on such 
 occasions. When we contemplate some striking in- 
 stance of " the end of all men^" is it possible not to be 
 impressed with a sense of our littleness, and of our en- 
 tire dependence on the Almighty hand, by which we 
 are raised or brought low ? When power, or genius, 
 or worth, submit to the common fate, and are swept 
 from the earth, do we not immediately exclaim, What 
 is man ! and perceive but one Being whose operations 
 are without controul? Must we not then be convinced, 
 that all the occupations and concerns of human life carry 
 in them an admixture of vanity, and that those circum- 
 stances on which we ground our self-consequence, are 
 really futile and insignificant? We shall, accordingly, 
 feel humiliated and astonished at ourselves, and shall 
 bend beneath the fear of him who is the arbiter of our 
 eternal destiny. 
 
 It is very apparent, then, in what manner humility 
 and religious awe arise from the contemplation of human 
 misery. That religious hope should flow from the 
 same source, may not be so easily explicable ; yet I 
 
On the Affiictions of Life. 157 
 
 believe nothing is more true, and that celestial stream 
 which bends its course into the regions of light, and 
 waters the tree of life in the midst of the garden of God, 
 rises in its greatest purity from the deep abysses of afflic- 
 tion. When every thing around us appears dark and 
 cheerless ; when all the world, with the whole race of 
 man, seems a vain, fleeting, and disorderly scene ; then 
 it is that the light from above breaks through the clouds 
 which envelope our souls. The suggestions of nature, 
 and the boldness of faith, are supported by reason. 
 When we behold man brought low, and his beauty laid 
 in the dust, we cannot reasonably think that the great 
 Parent has deserted his offspring for ever; and the great- 
 er his fall, and more complete his apparent degradation, 
 the more reason, perhaps, have we to look for some 
 splendid change from the wonder-working hand of Pro- 
 vidence. 
 
 Such are the suggestions of religion on the view of 
 any of the great calamities to which man is subject, 
 particularly in the contemplation of death ; and here, 
 indeed, is the triumph of Religion ! This is the province 
 peculiarly subject to her command, and in which she 
 moves with the dignity of a sovereign. In the heat and 
 and hurry of the world; amid its business, its intrigues, 
 and its pleasures ; she may lift her voice, but it will not 
 be heard. She will fly from the pride and the ingenuity 
 of the sophist ; she will avoid the questions and per- 
 plexities of the divine ; and her simplicity may too often 
 be lost or obscured in the ambitious eloquence of tlx- 
 preacher. But '* go to the house of mourjiing^'*'' and 
 there you will find her active and employed. In those 
 secret retreats of sorro\A', you may still hear the gentle 
 
158 On the Afflictions of Life, 
 
 but authoritative voice of Him who was acquainted with 
 grief: ** JVhy make ye all this ado and weep? the dam- 
 sel is not dead., but sleepethJ*"* 
 
 Enough has been said, my brethren, to justify the 
 assertion, that the house of mourning is the best school 
 which we can frequent, if we wish our hearts to be 
 really improved, and to learn our duty either to God or 
 man. Our duty to man we shall find to consist in kind 
 attentions and brotherly love, which surely the view of 
 his sufferings is of all things the best adapted to call 
 forth. And how can we better learn our duty to God, 
 than in contemplating the striking instances of his power 
 exhibited in the fate of man, and in lifting our thoughts 
 to those higher views which open amid the shades of 
 death ? How can we better learn that humble acquies- 
 cence in his providence, which becomes our frail and 
 feeble condition ; or the necessity for that obedience to 
 his will, by which alone our hope and faith can be 
 invigorated and confirmetl ? 
 
SERMON XX. 
 
 ON RELIGIOUS CONSOLATION IN AFFLICTION, EX- 
 EMPLIFIED IN THE CASE OF THE DEATH OF 
 CHILDREN. 
 
 MATTHEW, ii. 18. 
 
 ** Li Rama was there a voice heard, lamentation^ and 
 weeping, and great mourning ; Rachel weeping for 
 her children, and would not be comforted^ because they 
 are not.'*'* 
 
 THESE words, my brethren, of the prophet 
 Jeremiah, are appHed, as you know, by the holy evan- 
 gehst, to that very extraordinary and horrible incident 
 which he relates in this chapter : the massacre of the 
 young children, perpetrated by Herod, in the hope that 
 the infant king of the Jews would thus be sacrificed to 
 his jealous fury. In this expectation he was disappoint- 
 ed by the overruling hand of Providence ; and we who, 
 in a distant age and country, meet at this day for the pur- 
 poses of religion, in the name of the Child who was then 
 spared, know, I trust, in what manner to value and to 
 adore that watchful goodness, which, while it permitted 
 the hearts of the mothers of Bethlehem to bleed, was yet 
 laying firm, for all future generations of men, the foun- 
 
160 On Religious Cotisolation 
 
 dation of their happiness and their hopes. To such ex- 
 tensive views of divine Providence, it is the deliglit of 
 religion to conduct the serious mind, and to clothe, with 
 a mantle of celestial light, the most melancholy appear- 
 ances which this lower world exhibits. In the first in- 
 stance, indeed, nature fixes our thoughts on the appear- 
 ances alone ; and when, as in the incident before us, we 
 read of the mandate which the tyrant " sent forth to slay 
 all the children that were in Betlilehem^ and in all the 
 coasts thereof, from two years old a?id wider, ^^ we can, 
 for a time, listen to no voice, except that which long 
 before had resounded in the ears of the prophet, " the 
 voice of lamentation, and weeping, and great mourning; 
 Rachel weeping for her children^ and refusing to he com- 
 forted,'" 
 
 In the hour in which I speak*, my brethren, such a 
 voice, I fear, is but too frequent in the houses of our 
 city ; and many a tear is now falling from the eyes of 
 parents over the lifeless remains of infant innocence and 
 beauty. The same God, who, on one memorable oc- 
 casion, permitted a bloody tyrant to be the minister of 
 his inscrutable designs, in the destruction of holy inno- 
 cents, more frequendy sends disease among the young 
 of his people; and, year after year, as at the present 
 hour, many a spotless soul returns to him, untried by 
 the dangers, and unpolluted by the sins of that earthly 
 course on which it had begun to enter. It is an hour 
 in which even religion must for a time be still, and 
 listen, with sacred respect, to the voice of nature, which, 
 
 * February, 1 808, when the disease of the measles was fatally 
 prevalent. 
 
ifi Affiiction. 161 
 
 even in its excesses of " lamentation^ and weepings and 
 great mourjiing,''^ is yet the voice of God in the human 
 heart. When she may speak, however, Religion can 
 utter the words of consolation ; and it is her office to 
 seize upon those hours when the hearts of some are 
 broken with affliction, and when many are trembling 
 with apprehension, and to press those lessons of wisdom, 
 which are heard too often with indifference, in the pride 
 and the gaiety of common life. 
 
 The sentiment expressed in the text, my brethren, 
 accords with the feelings of human nature. The death 
 of young children excites, perhaps, more *' lamentation 
 and great mourning'''* than any other incident in the 
 course of mortality. To those who are not parents, a 
 dispensation of this kind may seem, perhaps, of a much 
 less afflicting nature than many others. A child is but 
 an insignificant object in the eye of the world, and 
 seems but a trifling loss to society. To a parent, how- 
 ever, those very circumstances, which render his child 
 of little value to others, are the most attractive. It is 
 his delight to retire from the serious cares and busy 
 occupations of men into the unanxious scenes of child- 
 ish playfulness ; to repose his thoughts upon some 
 countenances on which the world has left no traces of 
 care, and vice has impressed no marks of disorder ; and 
 to find within his own house, and sprung from his own 
 loins, some forms which recal the image of primaeval 
 innocence, and anticipate the society of heaven. When 
 these innocent beings are torn from us, we suffer a cala- 
 mity with which a stranger, indeed, will imperfectly 
 sympathize, but of which the heart knoweth the bitter- 
 ness ; and the sorrow may only be the deeper, and more 
 
162 On Religious Consolation 
 
 heartfelt, that it must be disguised and smothered from 
 an unpitying world. 
 
 The death of a young person, advanced to years of 
 maturity, occasions a general sympathy. The grief of 
 parents is then at once felt and understood. When 
 talents, which gave the promise of future distinction, 
 and virtues, to which the declining years of a parent 
 clung for support, are torn from the domestic circle 
 which they blessed and adorned, there are few hearts 
 so much closed to a fellow-feeling with human calamity, 
 as not to be powerfully affected with such circumstances 
 of deep distress. But this very sympathy of mankind 
 is a source of consolation which alleviates the affliction 
 by which it is occasioned. The sorrow excited by the 
 death of a young child may often be as acute, but it is 
 attended with much less sympathy. Here, too, parents 
 have formed hopes which are only, perhaps, the greater 
 and more unbounded, inasmuch as the foundation on 
 which they rest is less certain and definite. These 
 hopes are frustrated for ever; their child is as if he had 
 never been ; even his memory has disappeared from 
 every heart but their own ; and they cherish it with the 
 deeper feeling, that there is no other breast in which it 
 dwells. 
 
 To such sorrows of the heart, my brethren, it is the 
 office of Religion to apply the words of consolation ; and 
 when the first tumults of grief are at an end, to inspire 
 the soul of the mourner with loftier sentiments. She 
 suggests, in the first place, that, in the kingdom of 
 God, there is no loss of existence ; that the hand of 
 infinite wisdom changes, indeed, the sphere of action in 
 ■•.vhich the rational soul is destined to move, but never 
 
in Affile tio?i. 166 
 
 deprives it of the being which the hand of Beneficence 
 bestowed. She points to a higher world, in which the 
 inhabitants are *' as little children;'''' and she hesitates 
 not to affirnm, tfiat the soul of infant innocence finds its 
 way to that region of purity, the air of which it seemed 
 to breathe wliile yet below. She speaks here with a 
 voice of confidence which may sometimes fail to be 
 inspired, even from the contemplation of a long life 
 spent in the practice of virtue. The best men have 
 contracted many failings in the course of their earthly 
 trial ; and when we commit their bodies to the dust, 
 while Religion calls upon us to look forward to their 
 •final destiny with holy hope, she yet permits some fore- 
 boding fears to cloud the brightness of the prospect. 
 In less favourable cases, all we can do is to withdraw 
 our minds from the vices of the departed, and rather to 
 fix them, with apprehension and purposes of amend- 
 ment, upon our own ; to raise our thoughts, at the same 
 time, to the perfect goodness of God, which seeth the 
 secret springs of the heart, and judges not as man 
 judges ; which will forgive whatever can be forgiven, 
 and which hath no pleasure in the death of the wicked. 
 But when we follow to the grave the body of untried 
 innocence, we at the same time restore to the Father of 
 spirits the soul which he gave, yet unpolluted by the 
 vices of time, and still an inmate meet for eternity. 
 When the tears of nature are over, faith may here look 
 up with an unclouded eye, and see the Saviour, whose 
 descent upon earth cost so many tears to the mothers 
 of Bethlehem, now speaking comfort to the mothers of 
 his people, and telling them, that he who here below 
 *' suffered little children to come unto him,^^ still delights 
 
164 On Religious Consolation 
 
 to throw around them the arms of his love, when, like 
 him, they have burst the bonds of mortality. 
 
 Besides this lofty source of consolation which Reli- 
 gion opens up to afflicted parents, she, in the second 
 place, suggests to them some of the wise purposes 
 which Providence may have in view in this afflicting 
 dispensation. Although the ways of Heaven are con- 
 fessedly dark, and although we must, in many instances, 
 bow down in resignation, without pretending to ex- 
 amine them, it is yet more pleasing when we can dis- 
 cover some of the designs which may be intended, and 
 we are thus more easily reconciled to the evils which 
 may accompany the execution of them. In the death 
 of children, Providence seems, on a hasty glance, to be 
 acting in a manner contradictory to its own plan ; to be 
 destroying life ere it is well begun ; to be depriving us 
 of blessings which we can scarcely be said to have 
 tasted ; and while with one hand it gives, with another 
 to be taking away. Let it however be considered, that 
 it answers an important purpose in the government of 
 the world, to keep men in mind of the constant sove- 
 reignty of God, and of his right to the entire disposal 
 of the fate of his creatures. Let it farther be recol- 
 lected, that we are prone to forget the hand from which 
 our blessings flow, and that too often we do not discern 
 its agency till these blessings are ^vithdrawn. It is thus 
 not an unpleasing aspect of the ways of Providence, to 
 consider the death of a child as an interposition of God, 
 by which he awakens the slumbering piety of the parent, 
 and, by depriving him of the object of his mortal affec- 
 tions, leads his thoughts to immortalit}^ 
 
m Afflictio7i. 165 
 
 We are all well aware, my brethren, of the influence 
 of the world : we know how strongly it engages our 
 thoughts, and debases the springs of our actions : we 
 all know how important it is to have the spirits of our 
 minds renewed, and the rust which gathers over them 
 cleared away. One of the principal advantages, per- 
 haps, which arises from the possession of children, is, 
 that in their society the simplicity of our nature is coa- 
 stantly recalled to our view ; and that, when we retura 
 from the cares and thoughts of the world into our do- 
 mestic circle, we behold beings whose happiness springs 
 from no false estimates of worldly good, but from the 
 benevolent instincts of nature. The same moral advan- 
 tage is often derived, in a greater degree, from the me- 
 mory of those children who have left us. Their simple 
 characters dwell upon our minds with a deeper impres- 
 sion ; their least actions return to our thoughts with 
 more force than if we had it still in our power to witness 
 them ; and they return to us clothed in that saintly garb 
 which belongs to the possessors of a higher existence. 
 We feel that there is now a link connecting us with a 
 purer and a better scene of being ; that a part of our- 
 selves has gone before us into the bosom of God ; and 
 that the same happy creature which here on earth show- 
 ed us the simple sources from which happiness springs, 
 now hovers over us, and scatters from its wings the 
 graces and beatitudes of eternity. 
 
 To you, then, my brethren, who have suffered from 
 the present visitation of Providence, Religion thus un- 
 folds the sources of consolation and of improvement. 
 She calls upon you not to mourn as those who have no 
 hope ; to give the children of v,honi you have been de- 
 
166 On Religious Consolation , l^c. 
 
 prived into the hands of your and their Father; and 
 when the first pangs of affliction are over, to lift up your 
 thoughts with that faith toward him, which may at last 
 enable you to meet them in his presence for ever. Yet 
 while she calls you not to mourn, she does not ask you 
 to forget. This perhaps may be the language of the 
 world. The loftier language of religion is, that you 
 should remember whatever may contribute to your pu- 
 rity and virtue ; that you should sometimes meditate 
 with holy emotion on those angel forms which are gone 
 before you ; and tliat, amidst the temptations of the 
 world, you should call to mind, that their eyes are now 
 impending over you, and feel the additional link which 
 binds you to the higher destinations of your being. 
 
 To us, my brethren, over whose houses the angel of 
 death may now have passed, let not the scene vi^hich we 
 have witnessed be unaccompanied with instruction. 
 While we fall down in gratitude before Heaven for the 
 deliverance which we have hitherto experienced, let us 
 confess that it is undeserved ; that we have not, as we 
 ought, blessed the giver of all our good ; and let us 
 henceforth resolve to have his goodness more constantly 
 in our thoughts. Let us sympathize with our brethren 
 in affliction, and feel that their sorrow may soon be ours. 
 Above all, let us make it our firm resolution, to train up 
 those children whom God may have spared to us, in the 
 knowledge of him and of his laws, that at whatever hour 
 of their future life the call may come, they may be found 
 of him in peace, and that we too may, with them, glo- 
 rifv him in heaven. 
 
SERMON XXL 
 
 ON RELIGIOUS EDUCATION, 
 
 PROV. xxii. 6. 
 
 ** Train up a child in the way he should gOy and when 
 he is old lie will not depart from it.''* 
 
 IN these words, my brethren, the wise man 
 points out powerfully the effects of early education. As 
 the mind is very liable to the influence of habit, it is a 
 happy circumstance that it can acquire good habits as 
 well as bad, and that the infant heart can be moulded to 
 the love of virtue, no less surely than it may be misled 
 into vice and disorder. This is a consideration which 
 affords both a pleasing view of human nature, and is of 
 the utmost importance in a practical light. It is farther 
 a consideration which imposes a most forcible obliga- 
 tion on parents and instructors. It suggests to them, 
 that to their hands the fate of the rising generation is in 
 a great degree committed ; that they must in no small 
 extent be responsible for the future deviations of the 
 children entrusted to their care ; and that, if they would 
 have these children walk in the way in which they 
 
168 0}t Religious Education. 
 
 should go, the attainment of this invaluable object is in 
 a great measure left to themselves. 
 
 The importance of education in supplying the mind 
 with intellectual acquisitions, or in adorning it with ac- 
 complishments, is very generally acknowledged and un- 
 derstood : and perhaps the present age is in no respect 
 more distinguished from those which have preceded it, 
 than for the systematic attention with which these ends 
 are pursued. The effects have corresponded with the ap- 
 plication bestowed in producing them ; and the general 
 prevalence of liberal thought and refinement of manners 
 in our day, affords a striking contrast to the more con- 
 tracted opinions and grosser habits of " our fathers, and 
 of the old time before them." That we have been 
 equally attentive to the more important objects of moral 
 and religious instruction, I will not take upon me to 
 affirm : I fear, on the contrary, we are too often in the 
 habit of permitting the minds of our children to fall un- 
 der the dominion of accidental impressions on those 
 great subjects, on which their views and feelings ought 
 to be most precise ; and, while we omit no pains in im- 
 proving their powers, or adding to their accomplish- 
 ments, we too frequently throw out of the account that 
 higher wisdom, which may prepare them to be virtuous 
 here, and heirs of eternity hereafter. This most neces- 
 sary branch of education, my brethren, it is the duty of 
 this place to recommend ; and I am naturally led into 
 these reflections by the return of the present season*, 
 in which the young of our congregation are brought 
 here to show their acquaintance with that simple form 
 
 * Season of Lent. 
 
On Religious Echication. 169 
 
 of Christian instruction compiled by some of the great- 
 est fathers of our church, who, while they were employ- 
 ing their mighty powers in shaking the pillars of Romish 
 superstition, could yet find opportunity, like the master 
 whom they served, to " suffer little children to come unto 
 them.'' 
 
 The catechism which is commonly taught in this 
 church contains a short and beautiful compend of Chris- 
 tian faith and duty ; and it is pleasing to know tliat the 
 young are regularly instructed in it. The ministers of 
 religion, however, have perhaps Jittle opportunity of 
 knowing more than the simple fact ; they cannot judge 
 accurately of the degree of weight which the infant mind 
 attaches to the truths of which it is thus informed. It 
 is more properly the business of parents to discover 
 whether their children are really making any progress in 
 religious knowledge, and in impressions of duty ; and 
 little more, perhaps, can be done here, than to enforce 
 upon parents their obligations of this nature, and to fa- 
 cilitate the means by which they may carry tiiese obliga- 
 tions into effect. 
 
 With these views, my brethren, I propose to dedicate 
 the present, and at least one other discourse, to some 
 explanatory observations on the chiu'ch catechism, in 
 which, while I direct my thouglits chiefly to parents and 
 instructors, I shall at the same time endeavour to make 
 myself easily intelligible to the young themselves. 
 
 The first circumstance which presents itself to us in 
 opening this short summary of religion, is the vow 
 which ^vas entered into for the child before he was him- 
 self capable of forming an}' conception of the subject to 
 which it related. The circumstance is striking- and in- 
 
170 On Religious Educatton. 
 
 structive. It shows us, in the first place, that there was 
 BO period of our existence in which we were not under 
 the eye and the cognizance of religion ; that the spirit 
 of our Lord hovered over us while we were yet in the 
 cradle ; and that, when the waters of baptism were pour- 
 ed upon our heads, a solemn vow was made upon earth, 
 and recorded in heaven, that we should become " mem- 
 bers of Christ, and children of God." It, secondly, 
 reminds those, to whom the care of the young is com- 
 mitted, of the strong obligation under which they lie, to 
 provide for their moral and religious instruction. It re- 
 minds them, that, besides the obligations of nature and 
 conscience, there is a particular and express vow entered 
 into with God, which it rests with them to see fulfilled; 
 and that, when they neglect this important duty, they 
 are not only deaf to the voice of the heart, and of moral 
 reason, but are provoking the wrath of an insulted Deity. 
 In the third place, the baptismal vow reminds the 
 young, that on some points their minds are not left at 
 perfect liberty ; that there is a sacred obligation upon 
 every human being, of which the vow made at baptism 
 is an external sign, to direct his thoughts and actions to 
 the best ends ; and whatever they may afterwards be 
 told of the native freedom and independence of their 
 minds, this vow calls to their recollection, that they can 
 never be set free from the obligation of believing what 
 is true, and of doing what is right. Instead, therefore, 
 of that confident spirit with which the young sometimes 
 are tempted to follow out their own untutored ways of 
 thinking and acting, a much more humble and amiable 
 spirit is insinuated into their hearts in this form of in- 
 struction ; and to the question, " Dost thou not think 
 
On Religious Education, 171 
 
 Uiat thou art bound to believe, and to do as has been 
 promised for thee ?" they are taught to reply, " Yes, 
 verily ; and by God's help so I will. And I heartily 
 thank our heavenly Father, that he hath called me to 
 this state of salvation, through Jesus Christ our Saviour. 
 And I pray unto God to give me his grace, that I may 
 continue in the same unto my life's end." 
 
 The second circumstance which is brought before us 
 relates to the particular engagements comprehended un- 
 der the baptismal vow. Three things, we are told, are 
 promised and vowed for children in baptism. " First, 
 that they should renounce the devil and all his works ; 
 the pomps and vanity of this wicked world ; and all the 
 sinful lusts of the flesh. Secondly, that they should 
 believe all the articles of the Christian faith. And, 
 thirdly, that they should keep God's holy will and com- 
 mandments, and walk in the same all the days of their 
 lives." With regard to the first of these considerations, 
 it may, perhaps, at first sight, seem unwise to bring 
 before the imaginations of the young the existence of 
 wickedness which their own innocence does not naturally 
 lead them to discover ; and certainly it would be un- 
 wise and pernicious to present tliis flsct to them in any 
 form which may have a tendency to cloud tlieir imagina- 
 tions, or to depress their spirits. Such, however, is the 
 condition of man in this world, that it is probably impos- 
 sible to keep concealed, even from the mind of a child, 
 the existence of vice in some form or other. In the 
 language of scripture, man has eaten of the tree of the 
 knowledge of good and evil, and has thus subjected 
 himself to the necessity of being warned to avoid evil, 
 as well as of being animated to pursue good. It is in 
 
172 On Religious Education, 
 
 fact, therefore, one among many proofs of the unsophis- 
 ticated wisdom of ancient times, that the compilers of 
 the catechism have touched, though very lightly and 
 delicately, upon this melancholy circumstance in the 
 condition of human nature, and have thought it incum- 
 bent upon them to warn the young, even at the first 
 dawn of reason, against the malignity and infamy of sin, 
 no less than to elevate their views to the lofty objects of 
 faith and of duty. 
 
 Secondly, it is engaged for the infant at baptism, that 
 he shall believe all the articles of the Christian faith. 
 In inculcating these upon the minds of children, the 
 method to be adopted seems very admirably pointed out 
 in our catechism. To the request, " Rehearse the 
 articles of thy belief," the answer is simply the repeti- 
 tion of that short form of " sou7id words ^^'* commonly 
 known by the name of the Apostles' Creed. This 
 creed, you will observe, contains nothing more than a 
 bare statement of facts, without any attempt being made 
 to deduce from them points of doctrine. Such, my 
 brethren, seems to be clearly the method in which 
 children ought to be trained in the truths of religion ; 
 and when this method is adopted, there seems to be no 
 such difficulty, as is sometimes apprehended, in giving 
 them a competent acquaintance with these invaluable 
 truths. Some ingenious men have conceived, that re- 
 ligion was a subject totally beyond the reach of child- 
 Iiood, and that it ought only to be brought before the 
 view of the human mind, when it has attained its full 
 powers of reason. Without stating some very obvious 
 objections to this scheme, it may be sufficient to remark, 
 that it is certainly not the course pointed out by nature. 
 
On Religious Education, 173 
 
 Parents, who themselves possess religious sentiments, 
 are certainly prompted by nature to communicate these 
 to their children ; and if the voice of nature be listened 
 to, it will direct them likewise in the course which they 
 ought to take in doing so. 
 
 With respect to the first article of the creed, for 
 instance, the foundation of all religion whatever, " I 
 believe in God, the Father Almighty, Maker of heaven 
 and earth" — there are surely many simple methods in 
 which a wise instructor may insinuate this great truth 
 into the dawning reason of childhood. Some occasions 
 must present themselves, in which the mind of a child 
 may be led to recognize the traces of wisdom and 
 benevolence in nature, and may be taught to ascribe its 
 own little pleasures and enjoyments to the bounty of an 
 unseen benefactor. The great volume of creation is 
 open to every eye ; and, while it contains pages which 
 may exercise the highest powers of created inteUigence, 
 it likewise abounds with innumerable passages, in which 
 even the eye of childhood may discover the character 
 of its author. It is one of the improvements of modern 
 education, that means have been found to make chil- 
 dren soon acquainted with the simpler parts of the 
 economy of nature ; with the habits, for instance, of the 
 lower animals, and with many of those natural produc- 
 tions which minister to the pleasures and to the uses of 
 mankind. Is it not possible, in the midst of these les- 
 sons, to point out to the child the secret finger of wis- 
 dom and goodness ; and while his mind is gradually 
 opening to the reception of knowledge, at the same 
 time to waim his little heart with tlic first emotions of 
 piety ? 
 
174 On Religious Education. 
 
 The remaining articles of the creed relate to the facts 
 of revelation, which, if I am not mistaken, may be in- 
 culcated upon young minds in an easy connection with 
 the natural sentiments of religion. When a child is 
 once informed of the superintending care of a Father in 
 heaven, he will naturally be disposed to listen to any 
 information which can be given him, concerning the 
 dealings of this Almighty Father with the children of 
 men ; and although, in the volume of the scriptures, 
 there are many passages which are very far beyond the 
 comprehension of children, and which, therefore, ought 
 not to be put into their hands, there are innumerable 
 others which almost seem to be written for the sake of 
 children. Such are some of the simple narratives in 
 the Old Testament : the history of Joseph and his bre- 
 thren ; the early part of the history of Moses ; some 
 particulars in the history of David ; and many other 
 detached passages, which make a povvcrful impression 
 on a youthful imagination, and convey religious and 
 moral truth in the most pleasing of ail forms. The 
 history of our Lord, as it is related in the gospels, is in 
 like manner full of interest to the youngest minds ; his 
 manner of conveying instruction is, for the most part, 
 suited to their years ; his parables are little stories, 
 which they can easily remember; circumstances in his 
 miracles which Tuay, perhaps, perplex and astonish per- 
 sons of advanced years, serve only to captivate their 
 fancy ; and it is not difficult for a prudent instructor, if 
 they should sometimes be disposed to ask questions 
 Avhich cannot be answered in a satisfactory manner to 
 them, or, perhaps, to any human being, to lead their 
 
On Religious Education. 175 
 
 thoughts to those circumstances which they can fully 
 comprehend. 
 
 In this branch of religious instruction, there is one 
 view, my brethren, to which the minds of children, and 
 of the young in general, ought to be particularly direct- 
 ed ; I mean, to the character of our Saviour. His con- 
 nection with a higher nature than ours, renders him an 
 object of peculiar reverence to the young mind, to which 
 he is first introduced; but the simplicity, and the gentle- 
 ness of his virtues, render him still more an object of love 
 and confidence. It is not, perhaps, one of the least won- 
 derful circumstances in this divine character, that while 
 it is encompassed with the rays of Deity, and, in all the 
 trying circumstances of human jbrtune, carries a form 
 so lofty and commanding, it is yet quite level to the 
 feelings, and to the understanding of the merest child. 
 The fact is, I believe, it is better understood by children 
 than by ourselves ; from this plain reason, that in some 
 of its most striking peculiarities, their minds are as yet 
 less distantly removed fronftt. 
 
 My object, in recommending this part of Christian iii» 
 struction in a peculiar manner to parents and teachers, 
 is not merely because it is so simple, and so very full of 
 moral and religious wisdom, but from another reason. 
 We are very apt to complain, my brethren, of the pro- 
 gress of infidel opinions among the young, when they 
 go out into the world, and begin to speculate for them- 
 selves. We do not, however, always see very distinct- 
 ly the root from which such opinions take their rise. It 
 is not so much by the arguments of iniidtl writers, which. 
 \-erv often, thcv do not vmderstand ; nor even bv the 
 
176 On Religious Education, 
 
 poignancy of their wit and satire, that young men are 
 so frequently tempted to relinquish all faith in the reli- 
 gion of their fathers. Infidelity owes its conquests in 
 our days, I am induced to believe, to a cause more 
 honourable to human nature, to the impression made 
 upon the minds of the young, by the specious or real 
 virtues of those by whom that bad cause has unfor- 
 tunately been supported. These writers commonly as- 
 sume a high tone of liberal sentiment ; many of their 
 works are put into the hands of the young, as the stand- 
 ard books from which very useful information is to be 
 obtained in the course of their studies ; and when, as is 
 quite natural, they inquire into the private history of 
 these writers, they frequently discover them to have 
 been men of amiable and irreproachable manners. In 
 the mean time, in what aspect does Christianity appear 
 to them ? Too often in no other light than as a col- 
 lection of inexplicable doctrines, to which they never 
 attached any distinct idea ; when they examine its his- 
 tory down to the present Ircy, they too often have it 
 represented to them in no other view, than as the source 
 of wars, and vices, and bigotry ; instead of seeing in its 
 ministers the genuine spirit of glory to God on high, 
 and peace and good will to men, the page of history 
 exhibits the priesthood to their eye in all the dark 
 colours of pride, and violence, and gloom, and hypo- 
 crisy. If our sons, then, my brethren, abandon Chris- 
 tiani'ty, it is because they never knew what Christianity 
 is ; because they are ignorant of its spirit, and of its 
 genuine influence on the heart. If they are misled by 
 their admiration of infidel philosophers, it is because 
 
On Religious Education. 177 
 
 their young hearts were never impressed, as they might 
 have been, by the character of him to whom Christianity 
 owes its origin. 
 
 Were this character once fairly fixed in their minds, 
 it would, I will venture to affirm, continue to maintain 
 for ever, in their apprehension, its just and evident 
 claims of superiority over every other name, either 
 ancient or modern, among those who have at any time 
 undertaken to enlighten, or to reform the world ; and if 
 they also were tempted to go away, they would then 
 say, in the affectionate language of Peter, " Lord^ to 
 whom shall rue go ? Thou hast the xvoi'ds of eternal 
 life. And we believe, and are sure^ that thou art that 
 Christy the Son oftJie living God.'''* 
 
 I have already, my brethren, occupied your attention 
 much too long ; and shall only add in conclusion, that 
 while you are thus engaged in instructing the minds of 
 your children in the simpler views of natural and reveal- 
 ed religion, you will greatly improve your own ideas and 
 sentiments upon these subjects; you will discover what 
 in your private meditations, or in the writings of men, 
 you may not always discover, how plain and unper- 
 plexed a thing religion is ; and when, in the language 
 of our Lord, " you suffer little children to come unto 
 you,''^ you will then best see, what is " the kingdom of 
 heaven /" 
 
SERMON XXII. 
 
 ON RELIGIOUS EDUCATION 
 
 JOHN, xiv. 15. 
 
 ^^ If ye love me^ keep my coftimandments.^^ 
 
 THAT faith is nugatory, unless it be productive 
 of good works, or, in other words, that faith can in no 
 other way be known but by its fruits, is a truth so evi- 
 dent to natural reason and common sense, that it would 
 never have been called in question by the wildest enthu- 
 siast, unless, from some error in their religious educa- 
 tion, men had beei\ accustomed to separate in their 
 minds the doctrines of religion from its practical influ- 
 ence, and to rest their thoughts on the former of these, 
 unaccompanied with any reference to the latter. It is this 
 error which has infused into religious controversy so dark 
 a spirit of malignity and virulence, which has disgraced 
 the Christian church in every age, by vain attempts to 
 penetrate into mysteries totally removed from the reach 
 of the human understanding, and which has clouded in 
 a veil of unmeaning words, even from the eye of child- 
 hood, those simple truths which at once meet with the 
 assent of the uncorrupted mind to which they are pro- 
 
On Religious Education, 179 
 
 posed, and which lead so naturally to the love and the 
 practice of goodness. 
 
 To obviate this error, and the fatal consequences to 
 which it leads, I recommended it to you, my brethren, 
 in a former discourse, to fix the views of your children 
 on those parts of religious instruction which are quite 
 plain, and which must be interesting to them, leaving, 
 till they arrive at a maturer age, those doctrines which 
 they cannot now comprehend, and which to them have 
 no practical consequences. It was the practice of St. 
 Paul to feed " the babes itt Christ xvith milk^ and not 
 with meat:'''' a maxim, which, if Christian instructors 
 had in general been as anxious to imitate the profound 
 sagacity and the liberal spirit of this great apostle, as to 
 perplex themselves and their disciples with those pas- 
 sages in his writings which even St. Peter acknow- 
 ledges are hard to be understood, would have freed the 
 world from much bigotry, much fanaticism, and much 
 infidelity. 
 
 The compilers of our catechism, having, in this 
 spirit, instructed the young in the first plain truths of 
 religion, proceed to render these truths important to 
 them, by showing their connection with the duties of 
 life. They have, first of all, pointed out some of the 
 most striking of these duties, in that form of words 
 whicli was of old delivered to the people of the Jews ; 
 and they afterwards concentrate the spirit of the ten 
 commandments under the two heads, of duty towards 
 God, and duty towards our neighbour. The general 
 result of the whole is still more shortly expressed by 
 our Saviour in the well-known passage, " Thou shalt 
 love the Lord thy Godj with all thy hearty and with all 
 
180 Oil Religious Education, 
 
 thy soul, and with all thy mind. This is the Jirst and 
 great commandment. And the second is like unto it: 
 thou shalt love thy neighbour as thyself. On these two 
 commandments hang all the law and the prophets. ^^ 
 
 There is something in the character of childhood 
 which easily receives the impression of this law of love. 
 When the infant mind is elevated to a sense of Deity, 
 it naturally recognises in the Supreme Being the image 
 of parental affection ; and, when it is not misled by an 
 unhappy education, it is disposed to look up to God 
 with that " love which casteth out fear.'''' It is at this 
 period easily impressed with the feeling, that to " serve 
 him truly all the days of our lives" is the first of duties, 
 and one which must render us happy in the performance. 
 In like manner, a benevolent interest in the good of our 
 fellow- creatures is easily recognised by a young mind 
 as the dictate of the heart ; and, whenever any circum- 
 stance is mentioned which may excite its compassion, 
 or whenever its sense of justice is awakened, it will 
 often be found to possess these sentiments in much 
 higher perfection than after it has been trained in the 
 discipline of the world. It is accordingly of great im- 
 portance in education to exercise the moral sensibility 
 of children ; to state to them imaginary cases, or to take 
 advantage of real incidents, by which their moral judg- 
 ments may be exerted, and by which their attention 
 may be withdrawn from their own selfish feelings, to a 
 quick sympathy with the feelings of others. But, on 
 these general principles of religious and moral educa- 
 tion, I cannot pretend, my brethren, to afford you any 
 instruction ; and I am the less induced to enter upon 
 
On Religious Education, 181 
 
 the subject, when I recollect the many excellent works* 
 which have been written upon it, and which are in the 
 hands of every parent. 
 
 Among the ten commandments there are two which, 
 in a more peculiar manner, interest the minds of the 
 young, — that which enforces the observance of the Sab- 
 bath, and that which requires duty to parents. They 
 are the commandments which have most efficacy in 
 guiding their steps into the paths of piety and virtue. 
 The institution of the Sabbath is the great means by 
 which a sense of religion is kept up in the world. It is 
 a standing memorial of the divine administration ; and 
 cannot fail to impress, even the youngest mind, with 
 feelings of reverence for that great unseen Power, be- 
 fore whom the children of men are taus^ht with one ac- 
 cord to bow, and for the sake of whose worship a stop 
 is regularly put to the common occupations and amuse- 
 ments of life. It is under the influence of such feelings 
 that religious impressions spring up at first in the hu- 
 man heart; and the most common symptom of their de- 
 parture is shown in a disregard for that sacred institu- 
 tion by which they were originally fostered. Let it, 
 therefore, my brethren, be an object of your care, to im- 
 press the minds of the young with a reverence for tliis 
 sacred day. Let them be early accustomed to apply it 
 to the purposes for which it was designed; to such me- 
 ditations upon God and his laws as are suited to tlieir 
 opening minds ; and whenever they are capable of the 
 exercise, let them on this day join you in your public 
 and private devotions. 
 
 * Mrs. Hamilton, IVIiss Edgcwoiih, &c. 
 
182 On lieligious Education. 
 
 At the same time, be careful that they associate with 
 the return of the Sabbath no ideas of gloomy restraint. 
 Bear always in mind, that the Sabbath was made for 
 man, and not man for the Sabbath ; and, while on this 
 day you lead their hearts to the feelings of piety, at the 
 same time show them, that the day which God has set 
 apart for himself, is a gift of unspeakable mercy to man. 
 Show them, upon this day, the labourer reposing from 
 his toil, and in the bosom of his family, and in the house 
 of his God, feeling, notwithstanding the hardships of his 
 humble condition, that he too possesses the best bless- 
 ings of life, and the well-grounded hopes of futurity. 
 Show them, upon this day, even the lower animals par- 
 taking in the general repose, and the same watchful 
 goodness which gives relief to the man-servant and the 
 maid-servant, providing likewise for the comfort of the 
 cattle. If they are required on this day to suspend the 
 ardour of their common amusements, yet show them, by 
 your own example, that there are occupations suited to 
 it, which may fully interest and employ their minds. 
 Carry them along with you to visit the houses of pover- 
 ty ; let them witness the joy and the gratitude of relieved 
 indigence ; and impress them with the feeling, that they 
 are then most truly worshipping God, when they are his 
 ministers of good to man. To minds thus early trained 
 in the true spirit of the Sabbath, that day will through 
 life continue to return with a cheerful and animating 
 aspect ; and, instead of becoming a source of weariness, 
 as it too often is to the higher ranks of society, or of 
 being profaned by unsuitable cares and amusements, it 
 will for ever protect them from the contagion of an ir- 
 
On Religious Education. 183 
 
 religious and worldly spirit, and will afford riicm a 
 happy relaxation from the common business of life. 
 
 The commandment which recommends duty to pa- 
 rents, is placed immediately after those which relate to 
 our religious duties, and is with much propriety put at 
 the head of the moral law. It is, in fact, the moral 
 duty which resembles religion more nearly than any of 
 the others, and, probably for this reason, was in ancient 
 times known by the name of piety. > It is, indeed, 
 pleasing when we look into the history of the heathen 
 world, to discover the force and authority which was 
 attributed to this obligation ; and while, in their religion, 
 WQ are shocked with the spectacle of the most blind 
 and melancholy errors, to find that they Vv^ere yet in 
 possession of a principle which might, in some degree, 
 stand in the room of religion. This duty is what, of 
 all others, the young can most distinctly comprehend. 
 They are inured to the habits which it requires, before 
 the obligation itself can be impressed on their minds. 
 It is a duty to which nature leads them, as well as reli- 
 gion, and which, when it influences them as it ought, 
 must have the happiest consequences upon all their 
 conduct. The truest honour which can be shown to 
 parents is by obedience, and a ready inclination even to 
 anticipate their commands. This leads to the practice 
 of all virtue. The sacred regard to parental authority, 
 w hen once it has become a habit of the mind, is after- 
 wards transferred with ease to the authority of consci- 
 ence and of God. 
 
 To these imperfect observations on the laws of duty 
 I shall only add, that the best precepts will have little 
 influence on the minds of your children, unless the}- 
 
184 On Religions Education, 
 
 are accompanied with your own example. Let them 
 see, my brethren^ that you are yourselves lovers of God 
 and of goodness, and your precepts will then have an 
 influence beyond your own expectations ; and even 
 while you give no precepts in Avords, your lives will 
 give them for you. How should they believe in God, 
 fear him, and love him with all their heart, and mind, 
 and strength, if you, who instruct them to do so, seem 
 indifferent to his laws, and regardless of his institu- 
 tions? Or how should they honour their father and 
 their mother, if you endeavour not to exhibit characters 
 which they may honour? If you, in your own conduct, 
 are worthy of honour, your influence with your children 
 will not die with yourselves. When you are in your 
 graves, and when your direct authority over them is at 
 an end, your venerable forms will still seem to rise up 
 before them, and they will still, in the hours of trial and 
 temptation, hear your voices calling them into the paths 
 of purity and virtue. 
 
 That part of the catechism which is adapted to the 
 instruction of children concludes with the important 
 and interesting subject of prayer. The observations 
 which afterwards follow on the sacraments are intended 
 for those who are advanced to that period, when they 
 may take upon themselves, in confirmation, their bap- 
 tismal engagements, and are preparing to receive the 
 sacrament of the Lord's supper. Upon these points I 
 may, on some future occasion, address you ; at present, 
 I conclude with one or two remarks on the subject of 
 prayer, which is opened so simply and beautifully in 
 the following words: — " My good child, know this, 
 that thou art not able to do these things of thyself, nor 
 
On Religious Education, 185 
 
 to walk in the commandments of God, and to serve him, 
 without his special grace, which thou must learn at all 
 times to call for by diligent prayer. Let me hear, there- 
 fore, if thou canst say the Lord's prayer." 
 
 The prayer which follows, my brethren, we are well 
 acquainted with. It is the prayer which our Lord taught 
 his disciples, and in every age of the church it has been 
 received as the most perfect form in which men can ad- 
 dress their Father in heaven. In our present view, it is 
 the prayer which we teach our children ; and it is not 
 one of the least of its beauties, that, while it compre- 
 hends all the petitions which are useful to men, it is ex- 
 pressed in so very few and plain words, that it is quite 
 level to the feelings and understandings of children. 
 
 Of prayer, in general, it may be said, that it is an em- 
 ployment to which the infant mind naturally applies it- 
 self, and it is one which is peculiarly adapted to purify 
 the springs of religion from gloom and apprehension. 
 The habit of making our wants known to God in prayer 
 can only be learned successfully in our early years : 
 when we advance in life, we have too litde religious 
 simplicity to apply ourselves to it with unwavering faith. 
 It is the child only who never disputes the efficacy of 
 prayer, and has a full feeling of the force of our Saviour's 
 words, that as " Jiis Father xvill not give him a stone 
 when he asks for bread ; much less will his Father in 
 heaven refuse to give good things to them that ask him.'''' 
 The habit of prayer is, at the same time, we all know, 
 of the utmost importance, both for supplying us with 
 strength in the performance of our duty, and for infus- 
 ing comfort into our hearts in the hours of adversity. 
 
 2 A 
 
186 On Religious £ducatton. 
 
 Close, then, my brethren, as you are here directed, 
 your instructions to your children, with teaching them 
 how to pray ; and now, let us, along with them, " de- 
 sire our Lord God, our heavenly Father, who is the 
 giver of all goodness, to send his grace unto us, and to 
 all people, that we may worship him, serve him, and 
 obey him, as we ought to do. And let us pray unto 
 God, that he will send us all things that be needful, both 
 for our souls and bodies ; and that he will be merciful 
 unto us, and forgive us our sins ; and that it will please 
 him to save and defend us in all dangers, ghostly and 
 bodily ; and that he will keep us from all sin and wicked- 
 ness, and from our ghostly enemy, and from everlasting 
 death. These things let us trust that he will do of his 
 mercy and goodness, through our Lord Jesus Christ.'* 
 
SERMON XXIIL 
 
 ON RELIGIOUS RITES. 
 
 1 COR. xi. 26. 
 
 *' For as oft as ye eat this bread, and drink this cup, ye 
 do show the Lord'*s death till he come^,'*^ 
 
 CHRISTIANITY is in nothing more remark- 
 able, than for the simplicity by which it is character- 
 ized. In point of faith, it requires the submission of 
 the heart to the reception of divine truth, much more 
 than any peculiar capacity for understanding abstruse 
 doctrine; and where men are willing to receive instruc- 
 tion, it will always be supplied them in a sufficient 
 degree for securing the great object of religion, the 
 salvation of their souls. In point of morality and prac- 
 tice, Christianity holds out to men the most sublime 
 and purest lessons ; it, at the same time, speaks to 
 them as they are men, and, making allowance for the 
 frailty of their natures, it enjoins them to do their best, 
 and to trust that their imperfect endeavours will be ren- 
 dered acceptable with God, through the perfect merits 
 of one who lived and died for their good. 
 
 * Preached before the Communion. 
 
188 On Religions Rites ^ 
 
 The same character extends to the external rites and 
 ordinances of Christianity. They are quite simple, 
 easy to be performed, and such as must give joy, in- 
 stead of trouble, in the performance, where the heart is 
 at all affected with the serious impressions of religion. 
 Thus the institution of the Sabbath, one day in seven 
 on which man and beast are permitted to rest from 
 their labour, and a pause is put to the ordinary business 
 of the world ; on which, in some measure, all distinc- 
 tions are removed ; and all men, the high and low, the 
 rich and poor, seem to occupy the same place, that of 
 creatures bending before the throne of their Creator ; a 
 day on which, in the Christian institution, nothing 
 heavy is imposed upon men ; *' no burdens hard to be^ 
 borne i'''* but the simple offerings of praise and thanks- 
 giving, and of prayer from a pure heart, are alone re- 
 quired from all who come before their Maker, depend- 
 ing on the intercessions of their common Mediator ; — 
 what institution could possibly have been devised, more 
 free from vain pomp, or more comfortable to human 
 nature ? 
 
 In like manner, the two Christian sacraments, which 
 our Lord himself enjoined on his disciples, are rites 
 very simple and easy, and refer, in a beautiful manner, 
 to the most interesting of all events. The sacrament of 
 baptism, by which we are initiated into the church of 
 Christ, and the privileges of the gospel covenant, re- 
 quires only a small sprinkling of water ; and, by means 
 of that element, shadows out the most excellent of all 
 the benefits which God has conferred upon man ; no 
 other than that purification of the soul which is effected 
 by the Holy Spirit, and is promised to all those who 
 
On Religions' Bites. 189 
 
 sincerely ask it. The sacrament of tlie Lord's supper, 
 for which we are now preparing, is equally easy in its 
 performance ; and if \ve attend to the several circum- 
 stances of it, it will appear to be a very beautiful institu- 
 tion, and admirably adapted for affecting the mind with 
 those impressions which our Lord had in view in en- 
 joining it. A few observations to this purpose ma}'^ be 
 attended with use ; and I shall, therefore, beg leave to 
 draw your attention, first, to the circumstances in which 
 this sacrament was instituted ; secondly, to the mode in 
 which the rite is performed ; and, lastly, to those im- 
 pressions which it is meant to convey to the mind. 
 
 First, The circumstances in which this sacrament was 
 instituted, are detailed by the evangelists, and by St. 
 Paul, in that part of his writings from which my text is 
 taken ; and never, surely, in any story, was there a col- 
 lection of particulars so very interesting. Our Saviour 
 knew, that the close of his important life was at hand ; 
 that the design of his mission was about to be accom- 
 plished ; that he was soon to pass tlirough his last and 
 most difficult trial ; that already one of his disciples had 
 consented to betray him; that the rest would desert him 
 in his distress ; that all would be offended because of 
 him that very night, for *' f/ie Shepherd was to be smit- 
 ten^ and the sheep of the Jlock to be scattered abroad V 
 With these thoughts labouring on his mind, he resolved 
 yet to have one meeting of love and easy intercourse 
 with those whom his Father had given him, and whom 
 " he loved unto the end ;''"' and, making use of the op- 
 portunity presented by the feast of the passover, '•'' ivhe?: 
 the even was come (say^ the evangelist), he saf dmvn 
 with the tivelve.''^ 
 
190 On Religious Rites, 
 
 Such was the interesting period at which the sacra- 
 ment was instituted. " The Son of Man ivas about to 
 he betrayed into the hands of sinners.'''' A!i his exer- 
 tions for the sake of the liuman race, were to meet with 
 this unworthy reiurn ! His prophetic eye saw the scenes 
 which were preparing ; beheld the macliinations of hell; 
 and he who loved mankind so well, must have been af- 
 fected with the deepest sorrow, that they were to become 
 the instruments of such shocking depravity. Thus, like 
 a father on his death-bed, surrounded by his children, he 
 sate among the disciples, informing them, in terms too 
 plain to be misunderstood, that he was not long to be 
 with them. With a view of impressing them strongly 
 with the awful importance of the events which were 
 about to happen, " as they were eating (we are told), 
 he took bread, and blessed it, and brake if, and gave it to 
 his disciples, and said, Take, eat, this is my body. AjuI 
 he took the cup, and gave thanks, and gave it to theniy 
 say'ing. Drink ye allofit; for this is my blood of the new 
 testament, which is shed for many, for the remission of 
 .si?2S.^^ 
 
 It may be remarked, that this method of instituting a 
 memorial of his death, was quite in the manner adopted 
 by our Lord in all his instructions, and in his common 
 conduct. It seemed part of his plan, to show that wis- 
 dom might be collected from every incident, the most 
 tiivial, and that the most serious truths might be im- 
 ]>resstd upon the mind from the occasion of very slight 
 events. Thus his instructions were constantly drawn 
 from some of the circumstances in his own or his dis- 
 ciples' situation ; and every common occurrence in their 
 lives he turned into a source of useful doctrine. On 
 
On Religious Rites* 191 
 
 this occasion, bread and wine were incidentally on the 
 table before them ; and, by a natural reference to his 
 body and blood, to which these elements bore some re- 
 semblance, he made them symbols of the most impor- 
 tant event which was ever to happen in the annals of 
 time. 
 
 The beauty and interesting nature of this sacrament 
 appear, accordingly, from attending to the circumstances 
 in which it was instituted. Secondly, let us attend to 
 the manner of its observance. The event to be comme- 
 morated, is the death of our Saviour for the sins of the 
 world. The manner in which this is commemorated, is 
 not in sackcloth and ashes, in tears and lamentations, and 
 stripes and penance. We are not required " to give our 
 Jirst born for our transgression, the fruit of our body for 
 the sin of our soul.''^ We are not desired to go forth on 
 pilgrimages to the holy sepulchre ; to collect from every 
 quarter relics of the cross ; and to wear out the sacred 
 pavements in prostration and kneeling. Nothing harsh, 
 nothing burdensome, nothing melancholy is required 
 from us. We are only desired to meet in fellowshij) 
 around the table of our Lord ; to personate the holy 
 apostles ; and to receive the sacred elements which he 
 formerly distributed to those well-tried servants, when 
 he met them for the last time before his death. We are 
 desired to kneel down together with the kind affections 
 of Christian brethren, of men who partake in the same 
 misfortune, and who look forward to the same deliver- 
 ance. Perhaps, it may not be going too far to say, that 
 the very form of this sacrament is a proof, that in the 
 whole course of our Christian warfare, nothing is ex- 
 pected from us \v\\\Q.\\ requires any \ery extraordinary 
 
192 On Religious Mites. 
 
 or violent exertion. Our Saviour has done so much, 
 that we are desired to do little more, than with faithful 
 and honest hearts to look forward to the completion of 
 his work. He asks nothing that is grievous and dis- 
 tasteful to our feelings ; he only bids us remember 
 him ; and the manner in which we are to remember 
 him, is not with downcast and sorrowful countenances, 
 but with glad hearts, and by a social and friendly cere- 
 mony. " This do in remembrance of me^ What? 
 Nothing more, than " to eat this breads and to drink 
 this cup.'''* 
 
 I proceed, in the third place, to point out those reli- 
 gious impressions which the sacrament of the Lord's 
 supper is designed to fix upon the heart. These are 
 implied by St. Paul in my text : ^'' as oft as ye eat this 
 breads and drink this cup^ ye do show the Lord^s death 
 till he come.'*^ The first thing remarkable in these 
 words is, "ye do show the Lord^s death.'*'* Let us 
 then, my brethren, contemplate this circumstance, the 
 Lord's death, and we shall see what meditations ought 
 to employ us while we celebrate this memorial of it. It 
 was, then, the death of one who, through the whole 
 course of his life, showed the most ardent love to man- 
 kind, and who never seemed employed to his own 
 satisfaction if he was not forwarding the good of man 
 and the glory of God. The death of the best of men 
 would, in itself, be a very affecting circumstance, even 
 although it were attended with no reference to us. We 
 read with admiration and delight the stories of illustri- 
 ous heroes, of the wise and good in all ages ; and when, 
 as has very frequently happened, these men have fallen 
 a sacrifice to the barbarous policy of their opponents, or 
 
On Religious JRites. 193 
 
 to the factious fury of the populace, we follow them 
 into their last scenes, and look up to their unbending 
 fortitude, in their hours of trial, with feelings of reve- 
 rence mixed with sorrow. Suppose, then, the author 
 of the Christian faith to be nothing more than a man ; 
 to be a great moral instructor, " who went about doing 
 good ;'''' yet, even in this view, he bears the highest 
 character for every virtue which has ever yet shone 
 forth in human nature, without the smallest taint or 
 admixture of vice and pollution. The death, therefore, 
 of this distinguished person, especially since, in the 
 circumstances attending it, he displayed so remarkably 
 all his eminent qualities, the qualities of fortitude and 
 patience, of resignation to the will of God, and brotherly 
 forgiveness to man, is really the most interesting object 
 which we can contemplate in the whole history of man- 
 kind, even although it had no consequences, and were 
 an event terminating in itself. It is, of all others, the 
 best adapted to impress upon our minds worthy prin- 
 ciples of conduct, and to make us in love ^vith the 
 beauty of virtue. 
 
 But when ^ve go on to contemplate the death of 
 Christ in the religious view, as the great sacrifice m:idc 
 for sin, without which we could never have had anv 
 certain assurance of forgiveness ; when, enlarging our 
 views, we discover that this wonderful person was not 
 a man merely, but was also one " whoy being in the 
 form of God, thought it not robbery to be equal with 
 God, yet made himself of no reputation, and took upon 
 him the form of a sei-vant, and was made in the likeness 
 of men ; ajid being found in fashion as a man, he hum- 
 bled himself and became obedient unto death, even the 
 
 2 B 
 
194 On Religious Rites. 
 
 death of the cross ;^^ when we take this view of the 
 subject, surely the contemplation of that important 
 event, of which the sacrament of bread and wine is the 
 symbol, is calculated to enforce upon our minds impres- 
 sions of deep regret for our sins, and hearty resolutions 
 of amendment. These sentiments of rf-pentance and 
 purposes of reformaJ:ionj flowing from the sacred source 
 of gratitude, must surely have the happiest effects upon 
 our lives, if we are at all honest and sincere. When- 
 ever we partake in the holy communion, they will 
 naturally rise in our minds ; the occasion will suggest 
 them to us ; and it rests with ourselves to encourage 
 and strengthen them, so as tliat they may not be formed 
 in vain. 
 
 The next thing which the words of tlie text suggest 
 to us, is the second coming of Christ, to which the 
 faithful look forward, when all his promises will be 
 completed, and those whom he approves will be made 
 happy with him for ever. This is likewise a natural 
 subject of meditation when we approach the table of 
 our Lord. Were he still in the dark repositories of the 
 departed, and had we no hope that he would ever be 
 restored to us, we might remember him with lamenta- 
 tion and weeping, but scarcely with bread and wine. 
 The very form of this sacrament, therefore, justifies St. 
 Paul's explanation of it, that in it we show the Lord's 
 death, in the belief that he will come again ; and, in 
 this consideration, many very serious impressions are 
 involved. For when he comes again, he will come in 
 the glory of his Father, to judge the world. He will 
 no longer wander over an obscure part of the earth, a 
 poor and neglected man, scorned by the wicked, and 
 
On Religious Rites. 195 
 
 ^scarcely acknowledged by the good ; suffering all the 
 misfortunes incident to human life, and, finally, endur- 
 ing the punishment of a criminal ; but he will appear 
 *' sitting on the right hand of power ^ and coming in the 
 thuds of heaven^'''' and every kindred, and tongue, and 
 nation shall be gathered before him. If, therefore, we 
 determine to be good and faithful servants, we are well 
 assured that our Master has the power, as well as the 
 will to reward us ; and we have every reason to rejoice 
 in the hope that is set before us. But *' if -we he evil 
 servants, and say in our hearts, Our Lord delayeth his 
 coming, and shall begin to smite our felloiv-sei'vants, arid 
 to eat and drink with the drunken,"*^ then we know that 
 " he will come in a day when we look not for him, and 
 in an hour that we are not aware of, and shall cut us 
 asunder^ and appoint us our portion with the hypo- 
 crites.'*'* 
 
 Such seem, my brethren, to be the kind of reflec- 
 tions which the sacrament of the Lord's supper will 
 naturally suggest to us ; and surely they are very salu- 
 tary, and well deserving our frequent consideration. 
 It, therefore, greatly becomes us to take every proper 
 opportunity of " eating this bread and drinking this 
 cup,'*'' for the sake of strengthening all our good resolu- 
 tions, and of confirming our faith. " The night (says 
 the apostle) is far spent, and the day is at hand.'''* Let 
 us steadily keep this principle in view, and it will enable 
 us to bear up under every difficulty, and to resist all 
 temptation. We ought to be thankful that, by the in- 
 stitution of this sacrament, our Saviour has given us a. 
 solemn opportunity of frequently calling to mind the 
 great leading maxim of the Christian life, that we are 
 
196 On Religious Rites » 
 
 strangers in a foreign land ; travellers through a scene 
 of dangers ; combatants in a serious warfare ; and that 
 we must fix our eyes on our true country, and bear up 
 through faith and hope. Let us then be careful not to 
 neglect those opportunities, nor to avoid that gracious 
 invitation which he has given us. We cannot well 
 deserve the name of Christians, if we will not attend at 
 the table of our Master. 
 
SERMON XXIV*. 
 
 ON RELIGIOUS RITES. 
 
 ISAIAH, vi. 7. 
 
 " And he laid it upon my mouthy and said^ Lo^ this hath 
 touched thy lips^ and thine iniquity is taken away^ and 
 thy sin purged,'''* 
 
 THESE, my brethren, are the concUiding words 
 of a very subUme passage, in which the prophet Isaiah 
 describes a remarkable vision which had been presented 
 to him, and the feehngs which it had given rise to in his 
 mind. " In the year (says he) that king Uzziah died^ 
 I saw also the Lord sitting upon a throne, high and 
 lifted up, and his train jilled the temple. Above it stood 
 the seraphims ; each one had six wings ; with txvain he 
 covered his face, and with twain he covered his feet, and 
 with twain he did fly. And one cried unto another, and 
 said. Holy, holy, holy, is the Lord of hosts ; the whole 
 earth is full of his glory. And the posts of the door 
 moved at the voice of him that cried, and the house was 
 filed with smoke. Then said /, JFoc is me ! for 1 am 
 
 * Preached afier the Couimunion, 
 
198 On Religions Rites. 
 
 undojie ; because I am a man of unclean lips, and I dwell 
 in the jjiidst of a people of unclean lips ; for ?mne eyes 
 have seen the King, the Lord of Hosts. Then Jieiv one 
 of the seraphims unto me, having a live coal in his hand, 
 which he had taken with the tongs from off the altar ; 
 and he laid it upon my mouth, and said, Lo, this hath 
 touched thy lips, and thine iniquity is taken away, and 
 thy sin purged.'''* 
 
 I have choscQ the words, from the natural reference 
 which they bear to the late solemn occasion of our as- 
 sembling iii this place. We, too, like the prophet, were 
 in the temple of the Lord, and we beheld him in spirit 
 sitting upon his lofty throne. We, too, were admitted 
 into the presence of celestial beings, and we heard the 
 blessed in heaven, and the good upon earth, crying one 
 unto another, and saying, " Holy, holy, holy is the Lord 
 of hosts ; the whole earth is full of his glory .'^'' In that 
 hour, my brethren, which of us did not feel the self- 
 abasement of the prophet, and say in his heart, " Woe 
 is me ! for I am undone; because I am a man of unclean 
 lips, and I dwell in the midst of a people of unclean lips; 
 for mine eyes have seen the King, the Lord of hosts .^" 
 Yet the altar before which we were assembled Avas the • 
 altar of mercy and redemption ; and the bread of life 
 which " touched our lips''"' conveyed to our consciences 
 a stronger assurance than even the live coal, or the voice 
 of the seraph, " that our iniquity is taken away, and our 
 sin purged.'''' 
 
 The subject into which I am led by these reflections, 
 is the consideration of two prevailing sentiments, which 
 the meditations, and the more solemn ceremonies of re- 
 ligion, naturally inspire ; sentiments which are produc- 
 
On Religions Rites. 199 
 
 tive, in particular, of the best consequences, when we 
 rise from the altar of our Saviour. The first sentiment 
 which the contemplation of religious objects inspires, is 
 a deep sense of their dignity, and of our littleness. 
 Whether we look abroad through nature, and trace the 
 Deity in the magnitude of his works ; in the sun which 
 flames above our heads ; in the splendour of the starry 
 heavens ; or in the rolling billows of the deep ; or, when 
 retiring from the contemplation of nature, we look into 
 the depths of the Divine Providence; the laws by which 
 a moral creation is upheld; the traces of the Divine hand 
 in the course of human affairs ; and especially the stu- 
 pendous scheme of revelation ; on such occasions, we 
 are struck with an overpowering sense of the exceUing 
 glory of the Lord, and are lost in equal astonishment at 
 our own littleness and imperfection. It is then, that, 
 with the prophet, we behold the train of the magnificence 
 of God filling the temple of earth and of heaven ; and 
 that, with the psalmist, we cry aloud, " JVhat is man, 
 that thou art mindful of him ; and the son ofman^ that 
 thou visitest him ?" It is then, too, that we feel struck 
 with a sense of our offences, of our imperfect and wan- 
 dering exertions in the service of this mighty and all- 
 bounteous God ; and th.at we feel the full force of the 
 sentiment of Isaiah, " JFoe is me I for I am undone ; 
 because I am a man of unclean lips.'''' 
 
 Amidst such humility and self-abasement, the first 
 sentiments of religion rise in the human heart ; and in 
 the heart of a being like man, who is ever prone to 
 weakness and to sin, such feelings must ever accompany 
 all his religious impressions. Yet they are not, as the 
 world supposes, sentiments merely of gloom and depres- 
 
200 On Religious Rites, 
 
 sion. They are melancholy and severe, but they are 
 sublime ! Man is weak and sinful, and he feels that he 
 is so, and cries out, that he is perishing in the waves, 
 and is undone ; yet he fixes the eye of faith on the gra- 
 cious Being who conducts him through the deep ; and, 
 in the very wreck and ruin of his hopes, he chngs, with 
 eagerness, to " the Rock of his salvation.''^ 
 
 The second sentiment, therefore, my brethren, which 
 rises in the midst of our religious contemplations, is that 
 of trust in the goodness and mercy of God. This is 
 the *' live coaV'' which is carried by a seraph from the 
 altar, and rekindles our failing souls ; and this is the 
 voice of peace which assures us that our " iniquity is 
 taken aivay^ and our sin purged.'''* W herever we look 
 abroad through nature, we behold a universe rejoicing 
 in the bounty of the Creator ; to every thing its portion 
 of bliss allotted ; and the smallest insect that flutters in 
 tlie sun-beam provided with the means of happiness, no 
 less than the seraphims who sing the praises of the Lord 
 of Hosts. Amidst this profusion of bounty, is man for- 
 gotten? and is that being who is made but a little lower 
 than the angels, left to wretchedness and despair ? If 
 he has sinned, is there not mercy with the Most High ? 
 v<;ill God be angry for ever, and cast off, without hope 
 of pardon, his wandering and prodigal son? Nature 
 herself, my brethren, speaks to us of mercy with the 
 Most High ; and her gentle voice sometimes whispers 
 to us, with the seraph of the prophet, that our " iniquity 
 is taken away ^ and our sin purged^^'* Revelation speaks 
 to us in still more commanding words; and at that altar 
 from which we have now risen, I trust we have heard a 
 voice which will bring us peace and assurance for ever. 
 
On Rellgioits Rites. 201 
 
 We have there adored in gratitude and humility the 
 mighty sacrifice of our redemption ; and we have heard 
 the words which say, " If God gave us his only Softy 
 will he ?iof, xvith him^ also give us all things?'''* 
 
 Such, my brethren, are the contemplations into which 
 our religion has lately introduced us, and such are the 
 sentiments which must in some measure have arisen in 
 all our hearts. From that altar we are now returning 
 into the world ; and having felt our weakness and infir- 
 mity, and having had our hearts re-assured by the pro- 
 mises of the spirit of God, what remains for us to do ? 
 The prophet will tell us in the words which follow the 
 text. " Also I heard the voice of the Lord saying, 
 Whom shall I sendy and who will go for us ? Then said 
 /, Here am I : send me.'''' We have knelt down before 
 the cross of Christ ; we have felt the wounds of our con- 
 sciences healed by the drops of his blood ; and we are 
 advancing, I trust, with renewed spirits into the dangers 
 and the trials of the world. What, then, ought to be 
 our principle of action ? " Here am I (says the prophet), 
 send me ;" or, in the language of a greater than the pro- 
 phet, " Lo, I come to do thy will, God!'''' At the altar 
 of Christ, the glory of the Lord has been unveiled to 
 us ; and, raising our eyes above the things of time, we 
 have beheld his train filling the temple of eternity. We 
 have seen all things in heaven and in earth obeying his 
 will ; from the sparrow, which falleth to the ground at 
 his command, to the seraphim, who sing their eternal 
 hymn, " Holy, holy, holy is the Lord God of Hosts, 
 heaven and earth are fidl of his glory.'''* We have seen 
 the First-born himself bowing his head in death, to ac- 
 complish the will of the Father : yet, amidst nil this 
 
 2 c 
 
202 On Religious Rites. 
 
 grand display of the sovereignty of God, we have found, 
 alas ! our own hearts but too often rebels to his will. 
 Abashed at his presence, and self- condemned, we have 
 cried out, *' JFoe is me^ for lam undone ;'*'' but in the 
 midst of our humiliation and tears, the living flame of 
 his love has touched our hearts, and the seraph of peace 
 that hovers round the altar, has assured us that " our 
 iniquity is taken axvay^^"* and now sends us back into 
 the world, willing instruments in his hands. 
 
 In the world into which we are returning, tempta- 
 tions of different kinds will again recur to mislead us. 
 Some of us, probably, are returning into scenes of 
 affliction, and may be tempted to murmur against the 
 dispensations of Heaven. Yet, my brethren, if such is 
 the call of your Father ; if it is into the scenes of sor- 
 row that he sends you ; still say with the prophet, 
 ** Here am /." Forget not so soon the contemplations 
 in which you have been engaged. Remember that the 
 Master before whom you have now bowed, was a man 
 of sorrows, and acquainted with grief. You have lately 
 risen from the vicAv of his sufferings*, and have seen 
 that he refused not the cup which his Father gave him 
 to drink. Still more, you have seen the reward of his 
 filial obedience. When the bitterness of death was 
 past, you saw him restored to life and immortality ; 
 and you now are assured that, " at the name ofJesuSy 
 every knee shall bow.'''* Learn from him to suffer; and 
 the meekness of your patience will like his be rewarded, 
 when sorrow shall be no more ! 
 
 Many of us are returning into scenes of ease and 
 prosperity. It is in these chiefly that we are likely to 
 
 * On Good Friday. 
 
Ofi Religious Rites. 203 
 
 be misled. When the world smiles upon us, we are 
 too ready to regard it as our " ahiding city^'*'' and to 
 conceive that we are left to our own disposal. We are 
 then too apt to forget our duty to man, and our respon- 
 sibility to God. Yet, my brethren, let not the truths, 
 which this day* has recalled to your thoughts, be 
 speedily dissipated. At the altar you have been told of 
 better worlds. You have seen the Son of God rise 
 from the grave in the form of a man ; and you have 
 heard him call you, to raise your ambition above the 
 enjoyments of a temporary being. '* If ye then be risen 
 with Christy seek those things which are above, where 
 Christ sitteth on the right hand of God.^^ " Set your 
 affections on things above, not on things ofi the earth.''"' 
 Follow your Master in all the paths of social duty ; 
 be willing ministers of good in the hands of your hea- 
 venly Father; ever say with the prophet, " Here am /," 
 wheresoever thou wilt, O God, " send 7?ie.^^ Thine I 
 am, from the first moment in which my eyes were 
 opened to the light, to that hour when they shall again 
 be closed in death ; and, through this fleeting circle of 
 time, so enable me to do thy will in all the labours of 
 love, that I may still be thine, when time shall be no 
 more ! 
 
 * Easter Sunday. 
 
SERMON XXV. 
 
 ON PUBLIC WORSHIP. 
 
 PSALM c. 3. 
 
 Enter into his gates with thanksgiving, and into his 
 courts with praise: be thankful unto him, and bless his 
 
 name.- 
 
 IT is a melancholy truth, that the occupations 
 of life should possess the minds of men so entirely, as 
 to leave them but little leisure for religious reflection. 
 Although nothing can be a more certain truth, than that 
 all the good which we either enjoy or hope for, is from 
 God ; yet it is one which we are not apt to consider 
 with attention, so as to awaken in our souls emotions of 
 gratitude and piety. The institution of set times and 
 places for worship, must, accordingly, be acknowledged 
 to be highly beneficial, since it affords an admirable op- 
 portunity for making a retreat from our common world- 
 ly business, and of fixing our thoughts on that unseen 
 Benefactor, from whose hand are derived all the bless- 
 ings of our lives. Yet the spirit of irreligion prevails 
 so far, that men rather avoid these opportunities, than 
 avail themselves of them ; or even if thev seem to lav 
 
On Public rVorship. 205 
 
 hold of them, it is often with such a temper of mind as 
 to derive no benefit from their recurrence. 
 
 There are two leading views from which a regular 
 attention to public worship may be recommended : the 
 spiritual improvement of the individual, and the good 
 example which is thereby set to others. In the first 
 place, a proper attention to public worship contributes 
 much to the spiritual improvement of the individual. 
 The fact which I set out with stating is undeniable; 
 that in the present life we are necessarily so much 
 occupied with worldly concerns, as to render us on the 
 whole inattentive to religious truth, and the concerns of 
 futurity. This fleeting scene occupies all our thoughts; 
 and our heads are too often laid in the grave, before we 
 have seriously reflected, that the grave is the gate which 
 opens on an eternal world. Of this, and all other reli- 
 gious truths, we frequently require to be reminded, 
 and to have them impressed upon our reflections in 
 such a form, that they may keep their hold amidst all 
 the seductions of present things, and establish some- 
 what of a celestial temper within us, even while our 
 souls are borne down and fettered, by the ^incumbrance 
 of our material frame. 
 
 The stated and regular worship of God is an admira- 
 ble expedient for this purpose. Wiicn we " enter into 
 his gates xvith thanksgiving, and into his courts with 
 praise ;''^ when our souls are elevated with the contem- 
 plation of his invisible glory ; when we awaken in our 
 hearts sentiments of gratitude, and entreat with humility 
 the continuance of his favour ; when we are instructed 
 from his holy word, and listen to those heavenly pre- 
 cepts which the divine teacher gave to the children of 
 
206 On Public JVorship. 
 
 men ; when we are so employed, the world will surely 
 for a time retreat from our thoughts ; and, feeling the 
 full force of religious impressions, we shall be ready to 
 exclaim, with the patriarch of old, " Horv dreadful is 
 this place ! this is no?te other than the house of God, and 
 this is the gate of heaven /" 
 
 I am aware, my brethren, that such sentiments may 
 be only momentary, and that, when we return into the 
 world, the tide of human occupations and passions may 
 carry us along with renewed force ; yet something will 
 always be apt to remain, some holy emotion, which 
 may check the turbulence of unhallowed desire, or 
 which may elevate the mind above the mean pursuits of 
 avarice, or vulgar ambition. And, by frequently per- 
 mitting such impressions to be repeated, a habit of 
 piety, and of serious reflection, will be wrought into 
 the soul, sufficient to bear it in triumph through the 
 delusions of the world, and finally to convey it into that 
 uninterrupted bliss, which awaits the good in the pre- 
 sence of their heavenly Father. 
 
 There is, indeed, a careless and inattentive manner 
 of being present in form only, while the offices of reli- 
 gion are performed, which, so far from producing any 
 improvement to the soul, rather tends to render it callous 
 to all religious impressions. It is not uncommon for 
 men to imagine, that their duty to God is sufficiently ful- 
 filled, if they merely attend in person the places appoint- 
 ed for his worship, without really applying their minds 
 to prayer, or endeavouring to derive any instruction 
 from the truths which they may hear delivered. These 
 men, indeed, ^'' enter into the gates of God'' s home, ^^ but 
 it is without " thanksgiving and praise ;^^ without any 
 
On Public fVorship. 207 
 
 disposition to honour their Maker, or to be rendered ca- 
 pable of honouring him. It is unfair, however, to argue 
 against the utility of religious institutions, from the 
 small influence which they seem to possess over many 
 of those who appear to treat them with due regard ; be- 
 cause it often happens, that those men who seem the 
 most zealous for religion, have yet never permitted their 
 hearts to be affected with any genuine sentiments of 
 piety, and, '• having a form of godliness, they yet deny 
 the pouter thereof ^"^ 
 
 That we may receive improvement in the courts of 
 the Lord, it is, indeed, necessary that we should call to 
 mind whose service it is in which we are employ- 
 cd ; to remember that we are addressing him who is 
 praised by the voices of angels and archangels ; and 
 that it is from the sincerity of our worship alone that 
 our feeble voice can be thought worthy of joining in 
 unison with theirs. When such are our impressions, 
 and when we feel our devotion inflamed by synapathy 
 with our surrounding brethren, the most thoughdess 
 among us will, for a time at least, think soberly ; and 
 the wisest and best of us will return from the gates of 
 the house of God, wiser and better than when he enter- 
 ed in. 
 
 The second view, from which this practice may be 
 recommended, is under the head of example, which ap- 
 plies chiefly to men of character and influence, whose 
 conduct is remarked, and who are as " cities set on a hill^ 
 that cannot be hid.''"' There is no man, indeed, who ma}- 
 not iiave some influence, whose example will not proba- 
 bly be copied by some one or other. All parents arc 
 under strong obligations to set a gf)od example to their 
 
208 On Public Worship, 
 
 children ; all masters to their servants ; but particularly 
 men of station and rank to their inferiors everywhere 
 around them. Now, a regular habit of attending public 
 worship is a feature in the example of a good man, which 
 has a wider and more beneficial influence than is com- 
 monly imagined ; gives an impression of weight and 
 diffnitv to his character, which it would otherwise want; 
 and establishes the opinion, that he is actuated by nobler 
 motives than the desire of popular favour, or any mere 
 worldly consideration. 
 
 The lower orders of men, who at one time declaim 
 against the profligacy of their superiors, and, at another, 
 take comfort to themselves, in the midst of their own 
 corruptions, when they see that they are only copying 
 after their betters ; these men look up with emotions of 
 awe and reverence to the rich and powerful man who 
 seems to carry the fear of God before his eyes ; and, 
 while he walks among them, they almost consider him 
 as a superior being, commissioned by the Most High 
 to regulate their conduct, to curb and restrain their 
 vices, and to encourage their humble virtues. Impres- 
 sions of this kind seize upon the imaginations of the po- 
 pulace, and have probably no slight influence in forming 
 their manners. If, then, by the plain and easy practice 
 of resorting to the house of God at the times appointed 
 for his worship, a man of rank or fortune may do more 
 good among his dependants, or those inferiors who 
 watch his conduct, than by the profuse distribution of 
 wealth, or even by well-formed schemes for the good 
 and advancement of society, the observance of this prac- 
 tice becomes a most important branch, not only of his 
 
On Public Worship, 209 
 
 duty to God, but likewise of that which he owes to 
 man. 
 
 These remarks, my brethren, are applicable to all 
 times, but they are, perhaps, peculiarly so to the present 
 age, which, whatever may be its advantages in point of 
 knowledge, of refinement, and of humanity, is certainly 
 far from being eminent for zeal in religion. Many 
 opinions and sentiments which our fathers regarded with 
 reverence, are now too often despised, and many prac- 
 tices which, in their apprehension, were characteristic 
 of virtue and goodness, are now too frequendy looked 
 upon as the indications of a weak and superstitious 
 mind. Whatever advances our age has really made, 
 whatever improvements in practice or opinion, no wise 
 man assuredly will undervalue. Our sentiments have, 
 in some respects, become more liberal, our views more 
 enlarged, and our minds have been freed from some un- 
 worthy fetters, by which those of our fathers were tied 
 down and enslaved. All this is right: these advantages 
 it is our duty to preserve, and in all respects '■'■ so to speak 
 and so to do, as they that shall be Judged by the law of 
 liberty.'^'* 
 
 But let us be very careful lest we ever mistake the 
 spurious offspring of our vanity and self-conceit for the 
 genuine fruits of an improving age ; and whilst ue con- 
 demn the frivolous observances frequent among " those 
 of old timcy'^ let us be cautious lest w^e shut our eyes 
 to that lustre of true religion and piety that so often shed 
 a glory around their steps, which all our boasted know- 
 ledge and improvements seek to confer upon us in vain. 
 Let us be cautious lest we ever despise that simple and 
 
 2 D 
 
210 On Public Worship. 
 
 unassuming wisdom which led them to yield a ready 
 and unforced obedience to every sacred institution, both 
 as the mean of nurturing in their own bosoms the secret 
 seeds of faith and virtue, and for the purpose of draw- 
 ing more closely those unseen cords, which bind to- 
 gether in beautiful order the jarring elements of human 
 society. 
 
SERMON XXVL 
 
 ON YOUTHFUL PIETY. 
 
 ECCLESIASTES, xii. 1. 
 
 *' Remember now thy Creator in the days of thy youth; 
 ■while tlie evil days come not^ nor the years draw nigh^ 
 when thou shalt say, I have no pleasure in them^ 
 
 THE young, my brethren, are too apt to con- 
 sider religion as a dark and gloomy object. It seems to 
 them calculated to check the sprightliness of their spirits, 
 and to thwart the pursuit of their pleasures. If they 
 have been educated by pious parents, they will, indeed, 
 regard it with reverence and awe ; but still it may seem 
 to them a bondage from which they will sometimes 
 long to become free. The house of God is apt to 
 appear to them cheerless and melancholy, and their 
 thoughts will often wander from prayers and thanks- 
 givings to the enticing scenes of gaiety and joy. This 
 is a disposition inherent probably in most young minds, 
 and which, therefore, is to be treated with some indulg- 
 ence. Yet, in this disposition, we may trace the first 
 rise of irreligion in the heart ; we may see those cor- 
 rupted springs from which the waters of bitterness 
 afterwards flow ; and in that distaste to the thoughts of 
 
212 On Youthful Piety. 
 
 religion as inconsistent with the pleasures of youth, we 
 shall discover the root of infidelity in some minds, and, 
 in others, of that eager following after vain enjoyments, 
 which finally blot? out every serious thought. 
 
 In order, therefore, to impress upon the minds of the 
 young the belief that there is nothing severe in the 
 advice of the wise man which I have chosen for my 
 text, I shall endeavour to prove, first, that religion is so 
 far from checking, that it will add a relish to every 
 innocent pleasure which is natural to the season of 
 youth; and, in the next place, to show that youth is 
 the season in which religion and pleasure may be most 
 easily made to unite, " while the evil days come noty 
 nor the years draw nighy when thou shalt say^ I have 
 no pleasure in them.''^ 
 
 Let us then consider the season of youth, and the 
 innocent pleasures which it admits ; that season when 
 our limbs are strong ; when our hearts are light; when 
 our hopes are warm ; and when we begin to run the 
 race of life with alacrity and joy. Care has not 3'et sate 
 down upon our minds ; we have not yet experienced 
 the vanity of the world, nor fallen a prey to discontent 
 and repining. Every hour seems to start some new 
 enjoyment, something that we have not yet known, 
 which may add new vigour to our spirits, and refresh 
 our hopes. Life does not yet appear the same unvaried 
 circle of dull employment, or of insipid amusement. 
 All is smiling and delightful; for the evil days have not 
 yet come, nor the years drawn nigh, in which we shall 
 say we have no pleasure in them. Now, my brethren, 
 it would indeed be a harsh design, if religion advanced 
 to throw a cloud over this pleasing period ; if it hastened 
 
On Youthful Piety. 213 
 
 the arrival of the evil days, instead of retarding them, 
 or of breaking their force. If we were forbid to use the 
 vigour of our limbs, if we were required to break down 
 the cheerfulness of our spirits, and to tear from our 
 hearts all love for those delights which are ever opening 
 upon us, we might, indeed, have some reason to com- 
 plain that we served a severe master. 
 
 But religion never forbids the use of any thing which 
 nature throws in our way. It only aims at checking the 
 abuse. Our heavenly Father deals with us in no other 
 way than every wise parent acts by his child. Every 
 kind father is pleased to see his child sprightly and gay, 
 enjoying the amusements and games of his childhood. 
 Every wise father, however, checks his child in those 
 amusements which he sees are hurtful ; and although it 
 may cost a few tears, yet is steady in enforcing obedience. 
 Can we think it hard to be treated by our heavenly Fa- 
 ther in the manner in which the wisest and best parents 
 treat their children ? and do we see those children which 
 are wisely educated less lively and cheerful than those 
 which are idly indulged ? Where, then, is the severity 
 of the precept, " remember now thy Creator in the days 
 of thy youth ?" what pleasures will it prevent ; what 
 delights will it destroy ? Will it make the face of na- 
 ture appear less beautiful in our eyes ? will it make us 
 have less delight in the society of our friends, or of those 
 who possess our hearts ? Does the child appear less 
 sprightly in his play, who recollects that his father per- 
 mits certain amusements and forbids others, than one 
 who runs thoughtless into all kinds of mischief when- 
 ever he is beyond the paternal eye? " Remember now 
 thy Creator in the days of thy ijouth^^^ and tliou wilt, 
 
214 On Youthful Piety, 
 
 indeed, avoid the intemperate rioting of drunkenness, 
 the insidious poison of loose debauchery, and all the 
 other snares which lie in the path of youth ; but wilt 
 thou enjoy with less satisfaction the company of thy 
 friend, or think with less delight on the mistress of thy 
 chaste affections, or engage with less animation in the dif- 
 ferent occupations which suit thy years? Every period of 
 life has its peculiar duties and enjoyments; and religion 
 does not expect in a young man all the composure and 
 gravity of age : it, however, requires the young to be 
 sober-minded, and not intemperately to give the reins to 
 every eager desire. It requires the young as well as the 
 old to remember that they are immortal beings, and that 
 tjiey will one day give an account of their works ; but, 
 under this caution, it permits them to rejoice in tlieir 
 youth. *■'■ Rejoice^ young man, in thy youth, and let 
 thy heart cheer thee in the ways of thy youth, and walk 
 in the ways of thine heart, and in the sight of thine eyes; 
 but know thou, that for all these things God will bring 
 thee into judgment,''^ 
 
 So far is the remembrance of our Creator from being 
 a hindrance to youthful pleasures, that it must clearly 
 add to them, and give them a higher relish. The child 
 that amuses himself under his father's smiles surely en- 
 joys a greater happiness than when he fears to be inter- 
 rupted in forbidden delights, and to be subject to his 
 frowns and displeasure. Must it not add to the lawful 
 pleasures of youth, when we believe that the great Fa- 
 ther of our spirits permits them a free scope, and de- 
 lights to see the happiness of his children while they con- 
 fine themselves within the gracious rules of his admi- 
 nistration ? Will not the belief that we enjoy his appro- 
 
On Youthful PietJj. 215 
 
 bation cheer us under every restraint? and, if we must 
 at times submit to his chastisement, shall we not kiss the 
 rod, and still acknowledge his paternal love ? Let us 
 not, .my brethren, form to ourselves a dark and gloomy 
 notion of the God who made us, but let us regard him 
 as the Father of mercies, as the most mild and gracious 
 of all beings. " Like as ^father pitieth his children^ so 
 the Lord pitieth them that fear him. For he lamxveth 
 our frame : he r e member eth that we are dust. As for 
 maUy his days are as grass, as a fower of the field so he 
 jlourisheth. For the wind p asset h over it, anditis gone^ 
 and the place thereof shall know it no more. But the 
 mercy of the Lord is from everlasting to everlasting 
 upon them that fear him, and his righteousness unto chil- 
 dren'' s children, to such as keep his covenant, and to those 
 that remember his commandments to do them.'''* 
 
 Let us, in the second place, proceed to enforce the 
 argument of the wise man, by which he recommends 
 early piety : it is drawn from the consideration of the 
 difficulty of becoming pious at any after period of life, 
 if we have neglected the remembrance of our Creator 
 in the days of our youth. While we are young, and 
 enjoy life, we feel that it is a good, and we can be 
 thankful for it ; and if vv§ have attained the disposition 
 of thankfulness in our youth, we can retain it when the 
 evil days come, knowing, that although there is little 
 pleasure in them, yet they are the lot of humanity; and 
 diat, if we bear up under their inconveniences with 
 patience and resignation, we shall in no case lose our 
 reward. But if our religious sentiments are to be first 
 formed in the decay of our years, when the tinK- of 
 pleasure is over, and life wears a dismal and fading 
 
216 On Youthful Piety, 
 
 aspect, the task must evidently be hard, and contrary 
 to the bent of our nature. When we have wasted our 
 youth in intemperance, and have lost the cheerful flow 
 of our spirits, and carry about with us a weary and 
 worn-out mind, where is there room for those warm 
 affections of the heart, without which our religion must 
 be lame and imperfect ? How can we, when our decay- 
 ing frames, the wrecks, perhaps, of our intemperance 
 and folly, seem rather to be monuments of God's in- 
 dignation, than examples of his love ; how can we then 
 begin, for the first time, to lift our souls in gratitude to 
 him, and to thank him for that goodness which we can 
 with difficulty persuade ourselves that we have ever 
 experienced ? 
 
 If we do become religious in our old age, while we 
 have neglected our Creator in our youth, our religion 
 will be founded rather on fear than on love, and we 
 shall look up to the Author of our being rather as a 
 severe master, whom we must serve, than as a kind 
 father, whose commandments are given for his chil- 
 dren's good. The religion which first begins in the 
 midst of the evil days, will partake of all the gloom and 
 melancholy of the season which gives it birth ; and, 
 instead of being the solace and comfort of that declining 
 period, will, perhaps, but cover it over with darker 
 clouds. And yet it is evident, that old age can only be 
 truly cheerful if it is religious. Confidence in God. 
 alone can break the force of those storms which will 
 then probably assail us. The young may enjoy, for a 
 time, a life of pleasure, without the thought of virtue 
 and holiness. The warmth, the flow, the alacrity of 
 their spirits, may carry them through much dissipation, 
 
071 Youthful Piety. 217 
 
 without great weariness, or much perception that " all 
 is vanity.''^ But the old, totterinj^ on the brink of the 
 grave, with weakened bodies and weary minds, what, 
 O God, can give peace and comfort to them, but the be- 
 lief that thou art with them, and that thou wilt never for- 
 sake them ? And how can they have this happy con- 
 fidence, if, instead of looking back on a well- spent life, 
 past in thy service, and directed by thee, tiicy behold all 
 tiicir early years a vain scene of vice and disorder, and 
 that they have only had recourse to thy protection, when 
 all besides had failed them ? 
 
 If, then, my brethren, we are desirous, at any time of 
 our lives, to enjoy the blessings of religion ; if, when 
 the pleasures of the world have failed us, when our eyes 
 are dim, and our strength decayed, and we have outlived 
 the companions of our youth, and are travelling on to 
 the grave in solitude and silence ; if, at this dreary pe- 
 riod, when we are in the midst of the evil days, we 
 would still possess a friend " who stlcketh closer than a 
 brother;'''' who can infuse into our hearts the truest com- 
 fort, and be a staff to our feet, and light to our eyes, let 
 us " remember our Creator in the days of our youth.'''' 
 God forbid that 1 should suppose he may not be found 
 at any time by those who sincerely seek him; and, even 
 although ^ve have been misled by youlliful passions, and 
 have neglected his service in our best days, that yet he 
 will not accept of our sincere repentance, when the evil 
 days have come. But, surely, repentance is m.uch easier 
 while our transgressions are few, than when they are 
 multiplied ; the wound can surely be more easily heal- 
 ed when it is fresh, than when it has rankled and be- 
 come a sore. 
 
 2e 
 
218 On Youthful Piety. 
 
 It is impossible, too, not to perceive the gross impro- 
 priety of devoting that time only to the service of our 
 Maker, which is the most inefficient, and of the least 
 value in our existence. In pouring out the cup of life, 
 shall we set apart the dregs only for the great Master of 
 the feast ? Shall our evil days alone be dedicated to that 
 bounty from which all the days of our years are derived, 
 and no part of our pleasant days also ? Is it thus that 
 our Creator ought to be remembered ? and can so pre- 
 posterous a scheme of religion lead to any thing like con- 
 sistent happiness? In vain, then, my brethren, will you 
 attempt to postpone those duties which are ever solicit- 
 ing your attention, or to defer, till " a more convenient 
 season^'*'* that service in which you can never be too 
 early engaged, and which, when you are heartily en- 
 gaged in it, you will indeed feel to be '' perfect free- 
 dom," 
 
SERMON XXVII. 
 
 ON REDEEMING TIME*. 
 
 EPHESIANS, V. 16. 
 
 " Redeeming the ti??2e, because the days are eviU'' 
 
 THERE are times, my brethren, when the 
 solemn admonitions of religion fall upon our minds with 
 a peculiar force. Such, for instance, is the season of 
 affliction, when we are made feelingly to apprehend the 
 instability of all human enjoyments. When the days of 
 our lives are evil, we become detached from the com- 
 mon delusions which betray us, and are disposed to 
 listen to the voice from heaven, which calls upon us to 
 *' redeem the tiine^^^ and to regulate the remainder of 
 our days on the principles of virtue and of wisdom. 
 
 It is not, however, in the hour of affliction alone, that 
 our minds are awakened to sober and serious thought. 
 There are times interposed by the bounty of Providence, 
 when, without the severe discipline of suffering, the 
 most thoughtless are naturally called to reflection; when 
 the young check, for a moment, the boundless career 
 of hope, and when the old rouse themselves from the 
 
 * Preached January 1st, 1808. 
 
220 On Redeeming Time. 
 
 slumber of forgetfalness, in which the long habit of 
 existence has involved them. Such is the season of 
 the departing year, when an unbroken portion of time, 
 through which we have lately passed, is at once present- 
 ed to our view; and when our thoughts run back to the 
 recollection of the similar periods which were formerly 
 allotted us, and forward to the uncertain anticipation of 
 those which we may yet hope to enjcy, before the ter- 
 mination of our course upon ea-th. The moment, my 
 brethren, is one of tender feeling, and of serious reflec- 
 tion ; and the state of mind which it produces is favour- 
 able to those exalted sentiments which detach us from 
 mortality, and invigorate our steps in that sublime path, 
 the termination of which is in heaven. I need not, 
 therefore^ apologize for requesting your attention, at 
 this time, to a few of those reflections which moments 
 such as the present call forth. 
 
 One of the first recollections which presents itself to 
 us, when we look back upon the years that are past, is 
 the remembrance of those friends and companions, 
 whose society constituted their principal charm. From 
 some of these we have since been separated, by their 
 or our misconduct ; from others by absence, and the 
 different accidents of human life ; from more, perhaps, 
 by death. Those among us who have lived the longest 
 in the ^vorld, must have the greatest number of such 
 melancholy, but tender recollections; and, from the sum- 
 mit of their advanced years, must behold the fleeting 
 forms of their dearest connections passing in shadowy 
 review before them. To the youngest among us, 
 however, some such remembrances must occur ; some 
 youthful companion, or some venerable parent, of whom 
 
On Redeeming Time. 221 
 
 death has deprived them for ever. They are, indeed, few 
 who have advanced beyond the period of inflmcy . whose 
 years have not carried theni through some *' evil days;'" 
 through some of those afflictions, which are the portion 
 of our nature, which leave a deep trace in the heart, and 
 which improve while they \vound it. The recollections 
 are mournful, my brethren, but they are salutary ; they 
 carry ^^ healing on their xvings,''^ and they advance, v/ith 
 every revolving year, to restrain, with gentle force, the 
 impetuosity of our passions, or to rouse the soul froih 
 its slumbers. 
 
 They tell us, first of all, that the kind affections of our 
 nature are those which leave the most durable impres- 
 sions ; that all occupations in which these are not en- 
 gaged, are in some respect foreign from our hearts, and 
 do not voluntarily present themselves to our memory ; 
 and that it is only when he loves, and is beloved, that 
 man accomplishes the purpose of his being. The}' tell 
 us farther, that this purpose can never meet a\ ith its full 
 accomplishment on earth ; that the " tijue and change 
 ivhich happen to all things,''^ interrupt likewise the cour^: 
 of our tenderest affections ; and that in the ruins of win- 
 ter, with which the departing year surrounds him, m;in 
 is not only called to mourn the decay of nature, but, lit 
 may be, the loss of all which kindled the glow of lote 
 in his heart. They tell us, finally, not to grieve, lite 
 those who have no hope : in the memory of dcpartki 
 love and virtue, the prophecy of immortality is involt'- 
 ed; and when \\q call to mind the forms of those whose 
 kind oflices \Aere the solace of our early years, or whose 
 virtues animated our youthful emulation, we feel that we 
 are not conversing with the dead, but with " the spirits 
 
'222 On Redeemmg Time. 
 
 of the just made perfect.'''' While these recollections 
 inform us, that there is a winter of mortality over which 
 our tears have fallen, they point at the same time to an 
 eternal spring, when every tear shall be wiped away ; 
 and they leave us inspired with the high and holy am- 
 bition to " 7-edeem the time'''' which we have lost, and to 
 be no longer " slothful, but followers of them who 
 through faith and patience have 'inherited the promises.'''' 
 In tlie second place, my brethren, when we look back 
 upon our departed years, we naturally consider in what 
 manner Me have been employed in their course. In a 
 review of this kind, the best among us will be conscious, 
 that they " have left undone many things which they 
 ought to have done, and have done many things which 
 they ought not to have done." They will wonder, in- 
 deed, at the apparent vacuity which they have left be- 
 hind them ; at the small number of good actions, Vvhich 
 rise among the crowd of such as either are pernicious or 
 insignificant. At the same time, they will feel that their 
 good actions are those alone which they can have much 
 satisfaction in recollecting; that they are as lamps which 
 shed a consoling beani upon the darkness which sur- 
 rounds them ; and, \^ hile they would willingly forget 
 some part of their conduct, and are indifferent to the re- 
 collection of the greater part, they can pause, with a tran- 
 quil sentiment of enjoyment, on those deeds of light 
 which have distinguished their path. While the years 
 that are past bring them the sad remembrance of friends 
 whom they have lost, they bring them likewise the 
 soothing information, that the good which they have 
 done his made them other friends ; and that, although 
 the tendcrest strings of their hearts may have been torn 
 
Oft Redeeming Time. 223 
 
 and shattered, yet the cord whicli binds them to the fa- 
 mily of mankind may still be strengthened, without the 
 hazard of being broken ! 
 
 How important, then, the lesson which the memory 
 of departed years may bring even to the good ! How 
 plainly may it show them, that the course upon which 
 they have entered is the course which leads to tlie hap- 
 piness of their nature ; and how strongly will it tcacli 
 them, that if they cannot yet look back with entire satis- 
 faction on that part of it which they have run, it is only 
 because their exertions hitherto have been unsteady, and 
 that they may yet advance towards higher perfection ! 
 To those, my brethren, who are wandering far from the 
 path appointed for man ; who, in the recollections of the 
 years that are gone, find a melancholy vacuity of " I'/V- 
 ^we"," and of '■'■praise;'''* whose scattered deeds of light 
 only render more conspicuous the horror of the gloom 
 which they serve to disclose ; whose labours of love and 
 of duty are smothered in the prevailing selfishness of their 
 hearts ; to such men, the season which now dej^arts 
 from them speaks in the language of authority and re- 
 proof. It calls them to task for that scene of desolation 
 which it is forced to present to their eyes ; it asks thein 
 if such is the spectacle which ought to be presented to 
 a moral and an immortal being; and whether, in tiie loss 
 of friends, in the wreck of their reputation, and in the 
 increasing wounds of their spirits, they find no motives 
 which may stimulate them to the exertion requisite for 
 " redeeming the time.'''' The season which has gone, 
 points with a prophetic finger to that v\ hich is now be- 
 ginning its course, and shows them " the little cloudy'''' 
 which may now seem " like a man\s liand^'''' accumu- 
 
224 On Redeemnig Time. 
 
 lating a deeper gloom, till It covers the heaven with, 
 blackness. It then points to a brighter prospect, to the 
 glorious effects of firm and holy resolution ; to the 
 clouds withdrawing from the opening sky of virtue ; to 
 " the Sun of righteousness y rising with healing on his 
 wijigs ;^^ and to that spring of returning peace which, 
 more than the spring of the year, will brighten to the 
 eye of penitence the fair form of creation, and will con- 
 fer a new lustre on the beauties of earth and of heaven ! 
 From the recollection of former years, my brethren, 
 we naturally, in the third place, look forward to those 
 which are to come. In the years which are gone, we 
 all behold the forms of those whom we loved, and 
 whose place on earth knows them no more ; we now 
 behold them bending down to us from the regions of 
 light, and caUing upon us to walk in their steps. In 
 the same years, we behold the line of our own conduct 
 in many respects fluctuating and uncertain ; in the best 
 men, often deviating into error, and, in many, fir in- 
 deed removed from the path of virtue and honour. — 
 These years are gone for ever, and they can now be of 
 service to us, only if they leave wisdom behind them. 
 If the remembrance of oar first and and earliest affec- 
 tions restores to us, in some measure, the youthful 
 simplicity of our hearts ; if the memory of the wise and 
 o'ood, who were once with us on earth, revive in our 
 souls the decaying flame of wisdom and virtue, these 
 holy recollections will be productive of immortal fruits. 
 If the errors and omissions of our former years, make 
 us cautious against future failings: if the sense of our im- 
 perfect exertions quicken our determination to amend ; 
 if, shocked w'nh the form and the consequences of 
 
OttRedeemmg Time. 225 
 
 vice, we now firmly resolve to persevere in the road of 
 virtue, the departing year will not have addressed us in 
 vain ; and that year which is now opening upon us, will 
 usher in the " the redeeming of our time.'*'* Whether, 
 in its progress, our heads are laid in the dust, or whe- 
 ther it is the prelude to a longer course of usefulness 
 and honour, we shall then equally live or die to God, 
 in whose '* hand our times are.'*'* To those who will 
 be wise now, the time which is before them will, under 
 the Providence of heaven, be sufficient for accomplish- 
 ing the work which they have to do ; but to those who 
 still delay, who reject the time of their acceptance, no 
 promises are made, and " this night their souls may he 
 required ofthem."*"* 
 
 The uncertainty of the time which is to come, may 
 be one of the circumstances which the apostle had in 
 view, when he tells us " the days are evil;'*'* and gives 
 this as a motive for activity, in '* redeeming the time.'*'* 
 There are, at the same time, other circumstances to 
 which the expression may be more strictly applicable. 
 He might have in view the habits of increasing years, 
 which render a retreat from evil always more difficult, 
 and tend to benumb the soul in the hardness and insen- 
 sibility of sin. He might allude to the infirmities of 
 life, which increase upon us with our years, and which 
 may bring us suffi-Ming and pain, before we have formed 
 the habits of religious fortitude. He might perhaps 
 have more particularly in view the " evils of the days'*'* 
 in which he lived ; the persecutions to which the first 
 Christians were subject ; and the s]3eedy call which 
 might be made upon them, to summon up every prin- 
 ciple of their fliith, for the hour of torture or of death. 
 
 2 r 
 
226 Un Redeenung Time. 
 
 To all these circumstances, except the last, it is always 
 our wisdom to direct our thoughts ; and to learn from 
 them that prudence which seizes upon the present hour, 
 and puts not off the season of reformation to an hour 
 which may never come, or which may come in vain. 
 
 To the last of these circumstances, however, our 
 thoughts, perhaps, may at this day be more naturally 
 directed, than in any former period of our lives ; and 
 when we contemplate the portentous aspect of the world 
 around us, we too shall be apt to feel with the apostle, 
 that we have " follen upon evil days." It has been our 
 lot, my brethren, to live in a period of fluctuation and 
 change ; to witness the downfal of empires which were 
 mighty in the days of *' our fathers, and in the old times 
 before them ;" and to see the sceptre of earthly domi- 
 nion pass into the hands of those, whose fathers were 
 unknown in the records of nations. We have beheld 
 the appalling spectacle of the establishments of ancient 
 power giving way at the touch of upstart violence : and 
 the proud ones of the earth bending their regal fronts at 
 the imperious nod of a plebeian conqueror. Year after 
 year, as it passes, adds some new touches to the deepl}'^ 
 coloured picture of human mutability; and now* even 
 the winds and the waves have been entrusted with the 
 fortunes of kings, as more to be depended on than the 
 faithless shores of their paternal sway. 
 
 We have hitherto, it is true, been spectators merely 
 of this shifting scene ; and while the political interests 
 of our country have been deeply involved in the fates of 
 surrounding nations, we have sate in quiet in the dwelU 
 
 * Emigration of the Portuguese Court. 
 
On Redeeming' Time, 227 
 
 iiigs of our fathers, and listened to the howling of the 
 distant storm. Yet year after jear brings the contest 
 nearer to ourselves ; the last mortal struggle between 
 overwhelming oppression, and indignant freedom. The 
 '' evildaijs''^ of blood and desolation, which have brought 
 upon the earth " disfi'ess of nations^ with perplexity ; 
 men''s hearts failing them for fear ^ and for looking after 
 those things which are coming on the earth ;" seem at last 
 to be gathering over our heads ; and in the hours which 
 are now approaching, there may be required, from every 
 one of us, no slight exercise of virtue, and no vulgar 
 firmness of faith. The time may be on its wing, when 
 every moral and Christian principle must be exerted for 
 our national salvation, and when we too must fall under 
 the powers of darkness, unless we are clad in *' the ar- 
 mour of light.'''* 
 
 At the close of the last year, my brethren, we bowed 
 before the throne of a spiritual conqueror, who came 
 into the world, not to destroy, but to save. Let us be~ 
 gin the present year, with the firm resolution to redeem 
 the time which we have given to other masters, and 
 henceforth to obey his salutary laws ; so shall we be 
 clothed with the strength of his spirit; so shall we be 
 nobly prepared for whatever exigence we may be doom- 
 ed to encounter; so alone shall we be conveyed in safety 
 through the passing tumults of time ; so alone shall we 
 enter with joy the tranquil haven of eternity ! 
 
SERMON XXVIII. 
 
 RELIGIOUS MEDITATIONS. 
 
 REV. i. 8. 
 
 *' / am the beginning and the endings saith the Lord^ 
 which is, ajid -which was, and which is to come, the 
 Almighty. ^^ 
 
 THESE words, my brethren, elevate our thoughts 
 to the highest contemplation of which our nature is 
 capable. They lift us at once above all that is little 
 and all that is great upon earth, and carry us into the 
 presence of that Being " who inhahiteth eternity.'''* 
 The contemplation may appear, perhaps, too lofty for 
 our faculties, and may seem to remove us from the 
 present sphere of our knowledge and of our duties ; 
 yet, if we enter upon it with due humility, and seek 
 not to " ^^ wise beyond what is xvritten^^'' beyond what 
 is written on the hearts of men, and in the revelations 
 of God, we shall be sensible that those high medita- 
 tions, while they aiford a sublime occupation to the 
 mind, are likewise productive of reflections useful for 
 the conduct of life. 
 
Religious Meditations. - 229 
 
 " I a?}i the beginning (saith the Lord), which wa^." 
 Our imagination is here carried back to a time when 
 the visible frame of creation was not yet unfolded ; 
 when all the glories of earth and of heaven had not yet 
 a being ; and when that order of things which we call 
 Nature was not yet ordained. But while these magnifi- 
 cent arrangements of existence were not, there was One 
 from whom they all have been derived ; and however 
 far imagination may go back, while the earth and the 
 heavens vanish from its eye, it still beholds the great 
 Universal Spirit presiding in the immensity of his own 
 essence. 
 
 The next object which presents itself to our thoughts 
 is the creation of the universe, when *' the Spirit of 
 God moved upon the face of the deep ;'''* when God said, 
 " Let there he lights and there was light ;'''* when the 
 sun began to run his race ; when " the ?Tiorning stars 
 sang together, arid all the sons of God shouted for joy. ^"^ 
 We now behold the earth peopled with innumerable 
 living creatures, and one of a more erect form, and of a 
 nobler nature, placed among them as their lord. From 
 this period, we follow the history of man ; and, while 
 we witness with regret the " many inventions^"* which 
 he has found out for himself, his constant deviations 
 from those pure laws which his Maker had established 
 for him, we look up with delight to the great Father 
 interposing in the behalf of his wandering offspring, and 
 rejoice to see the fair fruits of virtue and happiness, 
 which, amidst all the corruptions of man, have been 
 produced, under the fostering dew of heaven, in the 
 harvest of human nature. To some he sent prophets, 
 
230 Religious Meditations, 
 
 to some apostles ; some were instructed by the light of 
 nature, and at last " he spoke to man by his Son.'''' 
 
 It is a great and a gratifying reflection, my brethren, 
 that there has never been a period of die history of man 
 which has not been transacted under the eye of God ; 
 that he who was from the beginning has beheld every 
 step which his children have made ; and that his good 
 spirit has ever been with them, calling them on into the 
 ways of perfection. It is interesting to recognize this 
 bond of union connecting the human race from their 
 first origin to the present hour ; to think that the God 
 who now beholds us was the God of our fathers, and 
 that " the God of Abraham^ of Isaac j and of Jacob'''' is 
 still the Lord of the whole earth. 
 
 '* I am he (saith the Lord) which is.^"* When we 
 look back to the beginning, my brethren, we see a uni- 
 verse bursting into existence. The creation of things 
 is a work which astonishes the imagination, and we in- 
 stantly acknowledge the Maker in the glory of the work. 
 When we read, too, in the pages of sacred history, we 
 are struck with the relation of astonishing interpositions 
 of the divine power ; and when we are informed of a 
 path opened through the sea, or of food rained from 
 heaven, or of a dead man raised to life, we immediately 
 recognize, in those miraculous occurrences, the hand of 
 the Deity. It is only amidst the regularity and order of 
 nature, while no change is made, while nothing is pre- 
 sented to rouse the imagination, while all things are as 
 they have been from the beginning, that we ever forget 
 there is a God, and are tempted to say with the scoffer, 
 '* ivhere is the promise of his coming ?" But this very 
 
Religious Meditatiojis. 231 
 
 regularity and constancy of nature is the proof that God 
 is ; that he ever possesses the same power and the same 
 wisdom ; that in him there is "wo variableiiess nor 
 shadow of turning^'''' and that " he slumbers not nor 
 sleeps.''^ 
 
 ^'- 1 am he (saith the Lord) which is.'*'' Docs thy in- 
 attention or thy impiety, O man! overlook this truth? 
 Art thou insensible to the present Deity ? Dost thou 
 shut thine eyes to the aspect of nature, or seest thou no 
 traces of his providence in the course of human affairs ? 
 Do the disorders of tiie moral world confound thee, and 
 do tlie miseries of nations cloud from thy view the bene- 
 ficence of God ? Yet, does not the sun still rise in the 
 heavens, and continue his annual course, and bring the 
 vicissitudes of seasons, and the grateful interchange of 
 night and day ? Or if the book of providence is dark, 
 yet, has not " the Sim of righteousness'''' risen upon the 
 earth ? and, amidst all the guilt and the miseries of man- 
 kind, does not he shed " healing from his wings ?^* 
 
 While the profane or the superstitious require some 
 unusual excitement of the imaghiation before they can 
 be roused to a sense of the divine presence, the man of 
 true piety and reflection feels that he is never removed 
 from his Father's eye ; that, wherever he goes, God is 
 with him ; and that the same spirit which at first called 
 into existence all the orders of being, and which has 
 since superintended and guided the progress of the hu- 
 man race, is still watching over his children, and gather- 
 ing them under the wings of his love. 
 
 *' lam the ending (saith the Lord) xvhich is to come,''' 
 We have beheld, my brethren, the great Universal Spi- 
 )'it hovering ovrr the luiiverse which he has created 
 
232 Religious Meditations* 
 
 from the first moment of time to the present hour. The 
 present hour is short ; our time is on its wing ; and the 
 day will shortly arrive when we too shall be numbered 
 witli those who have been. It is natural for man to look 
 beyond his own little sphere, and to listen to the voice 
 which says, " Come up hither^ and I will show thee things 
 which must be hereafter.^^ The only ground on which 
 our predictions of futurity can rest is this, that what- 
 ever changes there may be, God is to come ; and that, 
 under his eye, the great scheme of providence will go 
 on and prosper till all shall be accomplished. It is 
 pleasing, under this belief, to meditate on the mighty 
 things which will be transacted upon earth after our 
 heads are laid in the dust; on all the improvements 
 which will be made by the future races of men ; and 
 on that slow but steady course of divine providence, by 
 which man will at last arrive at the perfection predicted 
 by the prophet, when " the earth shall be full of the 
 knowledge of the Lord, as the xvaters cover the sea.^^ 
 
 "■ lam the ending (saith the Lord)." The time will 
 come when this earth and all its inhabitants will be re- 
 moved, and when a new heaven and a new earth will 
 appear. *' Thei'e will be no need of the sun, neither of 
 the moon to shine in it^ for the glory of God shall lighten 
 it, and the Lamb shall be the light t hereof ^^ 
 
 Such, my brethren, are some of those lofty contem- 
 plations which the words of the text may suggest to us. 
 They are evidendy the highest contemplations of our 
 nature, and to some, perhaps, they may seem to trans- 
 port the mind of man beyond the present humble sphere 
 of his duties. It is indeed true that our present part is 
 a humble one ; and religion, when rightly understood. 
 
lieligions Meditations. 235 
 
 will never carry us into meditations which are beyond 
 the reach of our limited views. But the error into which 
 men are so apt to fall, of confining their thoughts too 
 closely to the little scene before them, without connect- 
 ing it in their imaginations with those things which have 
 gone before, and with the things which must be here- 
 after ; this vulgar error it is the great office of Religion 
 to correct ; and she delights to point out that more ex- 
 tended range of contemplation which will, indeed, ele- 
 vate us somewhat above our common pursuits or enjoy- 
 ments, but never above our duties. There cannot, on 
 the contrary, be a greater call to the faithful and stre- 
 nuous discharge of every duty, however apparently little 
 and unnoticed, than the persuasion that we are ever in 
 the eye of the Greatest of Beings, of him " who is^ and 
 zvas, and is to come, the Almightij.'''' 
 
 Another consideration, my brethren, the highest and 
 most sublime which our nature can reach, is suggested 
 likewise by these contemplations. It is, that as God is 
 to come, man shall not perish ; that, as the grave is sub- 
 ject to the power of Omnipotence, the time will come 
 when the souls which it confines w^ill be set free ; and 
 that those beings who were endowed with capacity to 
 find out their Maker, \v\\\ never lose in death the tie 
 which bound them to him. This persuasion, to whicli 
 nature leads us, and which the gospel confirms, levels 
 at once all the little distinctions of time, and places every 
 rank and condition of human life on a great and glorious 
 equality. 
 
 Art thou high in place and power among men ? Then 
 waste not thy short and fleeting day in the folly of pomp 
 and pride. There is one to come, the Almighty, bcforr. 
 
234 Religious Meditations. 
 
 whom all thy petty advantages will vanish *' like the 
 chaffs before the xvind.'''' If, in that day, thou wouldst 
 stand before him, " do justice, love mercy y and walk 
 humbly with him.'*'' 
 
 Art thou in low estate, and dost thou sometimes re- 
 pine that there are men whom fortune has raised above 
 thee? Are there, then, no duties suited to thy station ? 
 Dost not thou, too, act in the sight of one who values 
 equally thy condition with that of the mightiest ruler of 
 nations, in the sight of him *' who was and who is?'*'* and 
 is he not likewise " to come?'*'* and is there not a day 
 coming in which he will reward thee if thou dost well ? 
 
 These, my brethren, are the most useful reflections 
 to which we can accustom our minds, as well as the 
 greatest and the most glorious. Let us not lose them, 
 therefore, in the insignificance of worldly things, her 
 quit our portion in the inheritance of that true " liberty 
 7vherewith Christ hath 7nade us free.'*'' 
 
 THE END. 
 

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