3^-^^ 
 
 I THEOLOGICAL SEMINARY,! 
 ! Princeton, N. J. . # 
 
 n. -n. .n. .«- ■« » " 2_- _ .^^g^,^^^^ 
 
 BV A253 .W33 1825 
 Walker, Samuel, 1714-1761 
 The Christian 
 
'/' 
 
 SELECT 
 CHRISTIAN AUTHORS, 
 
 INTRODUCTORY ESSAYS. 
 
 19 
 
THE 
 
 CHRISTIAN: 
 
 A COURSE 
 
 OF 
 
 PRACTICAL SERMONS 
 
 BY TH 
 
 ^ 
 
 REV. SAMUEL WALKER, A.B. 
 
 CURATE OF TRURO IN CORNWALL. 
 
 WITH 
 
 AN INTRODUCTORY ESSAY, 
 
 BY THE 
 
 REV. CHARLES SIMEON, 
 
 CAMBRIDGE. 
 
 GLASGOW: 
 
 PRINTED FOR CHALMERS AND COLLINS; 
 
 WILLIAM WHYTE & CO. AND WILLIAM OLIPHANT, EDINBURGH; 
 
 R. M. TIMS, AND WM. CURRY, J UN. & CO. DUBUN ; 
 
 AND G. B. WHITTAKER, LONDON. 
 
 1825. 
 
Printed bv W. Collins & Co. 
 ' Glasgow. 
 
PEIIIGBS'OH 
 
 THBOLOGI 
 
 INTRODUCTORY ESSAY. 
 
 We can have derived but little improvement from 
 our intercourse with the world, if we have not observed 
 how rare an attainment self-knowledge is, and how 
 superficial is men's acquaintance with their own 
 hearts. This is an observation which every one 
 makes in relation to others, whilst no one suspects 
 its applicability to himself. In many cases we are 
 perfectly astonished at the degree in which men are 
 blinded, in reference to their own characters, which 
 are as manifest to those around thera as the sun at 
 noon-day. 
 
 Now whence arises this? Every one knows what 
 he does, and, to a certain degree, why he does it: 
 and he has within himself such a knowledge of good 
 and evil, as would suffice for forming, in some degree, 
 a correct judgment, if only he brought his conduct 
 fairly to the test. But there is in every one a prin- 
 ciple of self-love^ which indisposes him for exercising 
 any great strictness, (we had almost said, any great 
 degree of candour,) in scrutinizing his own habits. 
 
VI 
 
 We all like to entertain a good opinion of ourselves ; 
 and we give ourselves credit for meaning to do right, 
 even though our conduct should not exactly approve 
 itself to all who behold it. However severely we 
 may judge others, we are sure to put a favourable 
 construction on our own actions : and if others view 
 them in an unfavourable light, we have reasons in 
 plenty to urge in justification of them. If we can- 
 not prove them altogether right in an abstract point 
 of view, yet we maintain, that they were such as the 
 occasion called for; or that, if there have been any 
 thing wrong in them, the fault was, not in ourselves, 
 but in those who, by their conduct or example, be- 
 trayed us into the error. In some cases, this is car- 
 ried so far as to cast the blame even on God himself, 
 rather than admit the criminality of our conduct in 
 its full extent; as when men plead the strength of 
 their passions as their excuse for their unlawful gra- 
 tification of them. If constrained to acknowledge 
 our faults in some respects, we assume a degree of 
 merit to ourselves for not going to the extent to' 
 which others proceed in the very same ways ; and 
 we bring forward our virtues in other respects, to 
 counterbalance our failure in the particulars referred 
 to. Besides, we take care to put a good name upon 
 those dispositions or habits which may have exposed 
 us to blame. A man of a hasty, violent, and vin- 
 dictive temper, thinks that he has a manly spirit, 
 which is necessary to keep him from being trampled 
 under foot. A covetous man, who thinks of no- 
 thing but amassing wealth, is actuated only (as he 
 would have us suppose) by a prudent regard for the 
 
vu 
 
 welfare of his family. In this way, every excess 
 is palliated at least, if not altogether justified. To 
 such an extent do many deceive themselves in this 
 matter, that they even value and congratulate them- 
 selves upon those very habits, which, in the eyes 
 of more dispassionate persons, constitute their chief 
 defects. What more common than to hear men 
 boast of a line of conduct, which all but them- 
 selves see to have been altogether extravagant and 
 unbecoming? We may have some idea of this by 
 looking to the conduct of St. Paul, previous to his 
 conversion. When persecuting the Church of God, 
 he had no conception but that he was rendering to 
 God a most acceptable service; just as bigots have 
 done in every age ; as our Lord has said, " Whoso 
 killeth you will think that he doeth God service." 
 The truth is, that self-love altogether blinds the eyes 
 of men, and prevents them from discerning their true 
 character. 
 
 Another source of the ignorance of which we are 
 speaking is, that men are very backward to self-in- 
 quiry. In reference to worldly concerns men will 
 exercise some degree of caution, to guard against any 
 fatal mistakes. A general, in the vicinity of a hos- 
 tile army, will have his picquets sent forth to watch 
 his adversary, and to prevent surprise. A mariner, 
 aware how much he may be driven out of his course 
 by winds and currents, will make his observations, in 
 order to ascertain his true position, and to pursue 
 his destined course. A tradesman will examine his 
 books, and balance his accounts, in order that he may 
 know how to estimate the measure of his success. 
 
Vlil 
 
 But Christians, in the midst of enemies, and exposed 
 to violent temptations, and having their eternal in- 
 terests at stake, never think of setting aside a day 
 for self-examination, and, perhaps, even in their 
 whole lives, never spent one hour in prayer to God, 
 to " search and try them, to see whether there were 
 any wicked way in them, and to lead them in the 
 way everlasting." We read of a Heathen, who 
 every evening of his life, made a conscience of ask- 
 ing himself these questions : 
 
 n^ Tot^Si^Tjj'; Ti 6* £f£^a; ri fLot 8iov owe ZTikiG(i(x>\^ 
 
 But how few amon^jst those who bear the Christian 
 name, examine thus carefully their deviations from 
 duty, both in a way of commission and of amission ! 
 No, in truth; we have no jealousy over ourselves, 
 no self-suspicion, no fear of self-deception. We take 
 for granted that all is right. If our external con- 
 duct be tolerably correct, we never think of inquir- 
 ing into the motives and principles by which we have 
 been actuated ; or of examining what mixture of al- 
 loy may have been blended with our best desires. 
 If appearances are favourable, we care not much 
 about the reality; and if any doubt arise in our 
 minds, we rather turn our eyes from it, than make 
 use of it, for investigating the inmost recesses of our 
 hearts. It is no vironder, therefore, that persons 
 should possess so little of self-knowledge, v/hen they 
 use not the proper and necessary means for tb^e at- 
 tainment of it. 
 
 * Wherein have I lived ami&s ? What have I clone ? What 
 duty incumbent on me have I not performed ? 
 
IX 
 
 Another cause of men's ignorance of themselves 
 is, that they never refer their conduct to a proper 
 standard. They take the opinions of men, and the 
 habits of those around thera ; especially if they be of 
 the same rank, and age, and under similar circum- 
 stances with themselves, as a fair criterion whereby 
 to estimate their own character. What is done by 
 those who are most respected in society, they ima- 
 gine may well be done by themselves ; and if a thing 
 have been done by one who is looked up to as a re- 
 ligious character, they think that an ample vindica^ 
 tion of themselves. They will not take the trouble 
 to inquire into the circumstances under which the 
 thing was done, or the motives and principles by 
 which the person was actuated in doing it, or the 
 difference of the motives or principles by which he 
 himself is actuated. No : the " religious profes- 
 sor has done so; and therefore I may do so: he 
 has done so on some particular occasion ; and there- 
 fore I may do it every day of my life." A re- 
 markable instance we have of this, in two of our 
 Lord's apostles, who would have called down fire from 
 heaven, to consume a Samaritan village, because the 
 inhabitants had refused their Master admission into 
 it: and, in favour of their design, they pleaded the ex- 
 ample of Elijah, who had called down fire from hea- 
 ven to consume two bands of soldiers that had been 
 sent to apprehend him. They never considered, that 
 Elijah was actuated, not by personal resentment, but 
 by a concern for God's honour, and a desire that 
 God would, by a fresh manifestation of his power, 
 give still more convincing evidence to the persecut- 
 A 3 
 
ing monarch, that he was opposhig the only true and 
 living God. The prophet had before called down fire 
 from heaven, to consume his sacrifice; and as, in 
 direct opposition to the convictions of his own mind, 
 the wicked monarch still persisted in his endeavours 
 to establish idolatry, and to extirpate the worship- 
 pers of Jehovah, he desired that they who were come 
 to execute his impious commission, should themselves 
 be made a sacrifice, for the conviction of the monarch's 
 mind, and for the benefit of the whole nation. And 
 the result of these very judgments showed how com- 
 pletely they answered the end for which they had 
 been inflicted. But what sanction did this give to 
 the cruel and vindictive spirit of the disciples ? 
 None at all: and therefore they received from their 
 divine Master this just rebuke, " Ye know not what 
 spirit ye are of." But not unfrequently persons, 
 at the very time that they condemn a thing, as done 
 by a religious character, will plead the example in 
 vindication of themselves; just as though the same 
 conduct which is censurable in one, could be blame- 
 less in another, who was similarly circumstanced with 
 himself. 
 
 But the truth is, that neither the opinions nor 
 conduct of fallible men are any just criterion for us. 
 We are to come to the written word of God, and to 
 take that as our standard to which we should refer our 
 every sentiment, and every act. We are told, on in- 
 fallible authority, that "if we measure ourselves by 
 ourselves, and compare ourselves amongst ourselves, 
 we are not wise." If we would look to examples, 
 as illustrations of the divine precepts, we should fiix 
 
XI 
 
 our eyes upon the Lord Jesus Christ and his holy 
 Apostles, and see what was their mind, and spirit, 
 and conduct under circumstances most resembling our 
 own. But we do not like this high standard. We 
 admire, indeed, what was done hy them; but then 
 we think, that, however commendable it was in them, 
 it is not necessary for us; but that we are at liberty 
 to take a lower standard for the regulation of our- 
 selves. How is it possible then that we should at- 
 tain self-knowledge, when we deliberately and habit- 
 ually foster such delusions? 
 
 To these different causes of ignorance we may 
 add another which is no less prevalent, namely, 
 our aversion to be told of our faults. To those who 
 will applaud and flatter us, we lend a willing ear: 
 but if a man take us aside, and tell us our fauhs, 
 what multitudes of excuses instantly arise in vindi- 
 cation of ourselves I Even truth itself shall be vio- 
 lated, rather than we will acknowledge the full ex- 
 tent of our criminaHty. And if this friendly office 
 be repeated twice or thrice, we shall need nothing 
 more to call forth a rooted aversion to our faithful 
 monitor. If we were on the brink of an unseen pre- 
 cipice, or wandering by night in a trackless desert, we 
 would bless the person who should warn us of our dan- 
 ger, or direct us in our path. But in every thing 
 relating to morals, we would rather dispense with the 
 services of others, and be best contented when most 
 left to prosecute our own way. 
 
 Thus far we have spoken on the subject of self- 
 knowledge generally, as it respects our moral con- 
 duct. But all which we have said, will have a yet 
 
Xll 
 
 stronger bearing in reference to OHr I'eligious cha- 
 racter. We do not, nor will we, admit the claims 
 ^vhich God has upon us as our Creator, our Re- 
 deemer, and our Sanctifier. Did we but take these 
 into our consideration, what light would flash into 
 our minds, and what views would we have of our ex- 
 treme viienessi At present, any little regard for God, 
 any faint acknowledgment of Christ, any transient 
 compliance with the motions of the Holy Spirit, are 
 judged quite suiHcient to justify an appobation of 
 ourselves. But if we considered hov/ entire ought 
 to be our devotion to God, how ardent our love to 
 Christ, how simple and uniform our dependence on 
 the Holy Spirit ; if we kept in mind the diversified 
 feelings and affections which the whole state of our 
 existence calls for, and then marked the utter defec- 
 tiveness even of our best frames, vv^hat should we 
 thijik of ourselves? Should we find any ground for 
 self-congratulation or self-complacency ? 
 
 But instead of judging of ourselves in this wav> 
 we take some transient emotion^ and construe it into 
 a habit; or we take some small attainmentK and regard 
 it as an indication of true conversion ; forgetting 
 what joy the stony-ground hearers may feel, whilst 
 yet " they have no root in them ;" and what spe- 
 cious fruits the thorny-ground hearers may produce, 
 whilst they '' bring forth no fruit to perfection." 
 To illustrate this — We read, that persons may give 
 all tlieir goods to feed the poor, and even their very 
 bodies to be burned, and yet want that charity which 
 is at the root of all acceptable obedience. Declare 
 this to any such liberal and zealous man, and he will 
 
Xlll 
 
 conceive the admonition to be no ground for fear on 
 his part, but only a demonstration of uncharitable- 
 ness on yours. In a word, we consider not that ^ . 
 gold itself requires to be both tried and purified: '^y? 
 and till we learn that lesson, we can never know 
 ourselves, or any thing else as we ought to know. 
 
 As we are about to introduce to the reader's ac- 
 quaintance a book, which is admirably calculated to 
 supply the want of which we have been speaking, we 
 v/ill just add a few remarks, in order to impress his 
 mind the more deeply with the importance of at- 
 taining self-knowledge. 
 
 Without it, we can form no just estimate of otx^: • 
 ffwn character. This indeed is obvious: yet does it 
 deserve Ovspecial mention, because the fruit of a tree 
 does not more depend on the root, than every holy 
 affection does on our views of ourselves as sinners 
 before God. Neither repentance, nor love, nor 
 gratitude, nor any other grace can flourish, where 
 the heart is not first broken with a sense of sin. 
 
 Nor, without it, ca?i we have any proper views of 
 God, What idea can we form of his patience, au^, 
 long-suffering, and forbearance, but in proportion aS 
 we know ourselves to be deserving of his wrath and 
 indignation ? How much less, then, shall wo be able 
 to appreciate his love, in sending his only dear Son 
 to die for us, and his Holy Spirit to dwell in us, in 
 order to restore us to his image, and to bring us 
 safely to his glory? 
 
 Nor, indeed, without it, shall we have suitable feel- 
 ings towards man. We are taught to " esteem others 
 better than ourselves," and to " prefer others in ho- 
 
XIV 
 
 nour before ourselves," and in every company "to take 
 the lowest place." But how shall we comply with 
 these directions, if we " know not the plague of our 
 own hearts ?" 
 
 But a deep acquaintance with our own hearts, 
 whilst it produces contrition before God, will also 
 inspire us with humility toward man; disarming in- 
 juries and insuks of more than half their force, and 
 disposing us to maintain only such a contest with 
 him, as our God has maintained with us, " render- 
 ing good for evil, till we have overcome evil with 
 good." 
 
 We must go farther still, and say, that without it 
 rve have no real jpreparation of heart for the Gospel, 
 The Gospel is for those only who are sinful and un- 
 done. If instead of feeling ourselves "wretched, 
 and miserable, and poor, and blind, and naked, we 
 conceit ourselves to be rich and increased with goods, 
 and in need of nothing," of what value will the Sa- 
 viour be to us? It is only in proportion as we feel 
 ourselves lost, that we shall desire a Saviour, or be 
 willing to accept him on the terms proposed in the 
 Gospel. " The whole need not a physician, but 
 they that are sick :" and then only shall we take his 
 prescriptions, when we are convinced in our souls 
 that there remains for us no other hope of salva- 
 tion. 
 
 We add, lastly, that without self-knowledge, *ucie 
 have no meetness for the heavenly world. Look at 
 the whole heavenly choir, both of saints and angels: all 
 of them are prostrate on their faces before the throne: 
 the angels, from a sense of their nothingness as crea- 
 
XV 
 
 tures ; the saints, from a consciousness of unworthi- 
 ness as sinners. But neither will this creature-like 
 spirit be in us, nor this sinner-like spirit, any far- 
 ther than we are instructed in the knowledge of our- 
 selves. We must be brought to see, that, irre- 
 spective of sin, we are "less than nothing, and va- 
 nity;" and that, as fallen creatures, we deserve no- 
 thing but the utmost abhorrence from our offended 
 God. Then only are we meet for heaven, when 
 with Job, from our inmost souls we cry, " Behold, I 
 am vile;" and when, like him, we " abhor ourselves 
 in dust and ashes." 
 
 Now, a book which opens and dissects the heart, 
 we conceive to be of the utmost value to mankind. 
 For it is not every writer, nor every preacher, that 
 cultivates successfully this heavenly science. 
 
 There is even in the ministration of the Gospel 
 itself, as it is too generally conducted, somewhat 
 that is calculated to foster the delusions before-men- 
 tioned. For a general acknowledgment of our lost 
 estate, is, by many, considered as a sufficient pre- 
 parative for a reception of the Gospel; the healing 
 balm of which is frequently applied, where there ex- 
 isted scarcely any wound or sense of malady. In 
 many cases, the Gospel is brought forward, rather 
 to silence than to deepen the^ convictions of con- 
 science, and a blind kind of confidence is required 
 in the place of saving ftiith. In many cases, the 
 approbation of others is deemed a sufficient ground 
 for the dismissal of all doubt and fear ; and persons 
 are led to estimate their own state before God, ra- 
 ther by the confidence maintained in their own 
 
XVI 
 
 minds, than by any real change of their heart and 
 life. 
 
 But even where the gospel is on the whole faith- 
 fully stated, and where experimental religion is held 
 as of vital importance, it is not always that the heart 
 is so portrayed as to produce in the hearers that 
 species of self-knowledge, which we consider as most 
 conducive to our spiritual welfare. There are some 
 writers who seem to take pleasure in making the 
 way to heaven so strait that scarcely any one can 
 find it, or at least can have in his soul any satisfac- 
 tory evidence that he has found it. Some of the 
 American divines, in particular, have insisted on the 
 necessity of our loving God for his own sake, ir- 
 respective of any sense of obligation to him for 
 mercies received, or any hope of mercies yet in re- 
 serve for us. And many writers of our own draw 
 such very nice distinctions, and refine so much the 
 feelings of piety in the soul, and withal raise such 
 a multitude of objections, and doubts, and fears, as 
 to bewilder, rather than instruct, the simple mind. 
 
 There seems also to be sometimes a defect in the 
 statements of Evangelical writers, that they confine 
 their instructions too much to what we may call a sin- 
 ner-like disposition, without going sufficiently to 
 the root of our apostacy from God, or noticing in 
 us the want of a creature-like feeling towards him. 
 And this has arisen from their tracing our apostacy 
 in the first instance to unbelief. But we think that 
 all these defects will be found, in a great measure, 
 obviated in the book which we take the liberty of re- 
 commending to the Christian public — Mr. Walker's 
 
XVll 
 
 « Christian." He traces the wickedness of man- 
 kind to a spirit of independence^ which has led 
 them to cast ofF God altogether, and to live without 
 him in the world. This has given a peculiarly for- 
 cible turn to all his statements, wherein he marks 
 the whole of our defection from God, in terms cor- 
 responding with his primary idea. And he does 
 this, not so much by a reference to passages of 
 Scripture, which might be thought overstrained, as 
 by an appeal to our own judgment and conscience, 
 which cannot but assent to every word he speaks. 
 In his statements, too, there is a surprising depth; 
 so that he appears as if he were acquainted with 
 every motion of the heart. We are not aware of any 
 writer that equals him in this respect. Others have 
 . their peculiar excellencies, in which they may sur- 
 pass him ; but in this, which is of primary and 
 fundamental importance, if he do not surpass all, 
 it may at least be said of him, that he is second to 
 none. There is a very extraordinary force in his 
 statements also, as arising from this circumstance, 
 that he scarcely ever draws a character, without 
 contrasting it with others which might be mistaken 
 for it, and marking with astonishing precision every 
 variety of disposition and feeling which shall distin- 
 guish it from those characters to which it is most 
 nearly allied. Suppose, for instance, he portrays 
 the feelings of, a careless sinner under any circum- 
 stances, he brings into view the feelings of one who 
 gives himself credit for a religious turn of mind, and 
 shows how small the difference between them is, hi 
 the sight of God ; and then marks how wide the 
 
XVIU 
 
 distance of both of them is, from that which char- 
 acterizes the truly pious soul. In fact, for the at- 
 tainment of self-knowledge, we cannot but recom- 
 mend this book as of singular value. And as it is 
 free from that species of phraseology with which 
 many religious books abound, we cannot but look 
 upon it as pre-eminently fit to be put into the hands 
 of those who are liable to be offended by the use 
 of particular expressions, and who are sufficiently 
 thoughtful to investigate and digest the salutary 
 truths contained in it. 
 
 c. s, 
 
 Cambridge, February, 1825, 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 SERMON I. 
 
 THE SINFULNESS AND MISERY OF MAN. 
 
 Page 
 Psalm xiv. 2, 3. — The Lord looked down from heaven 
 
 upon the children of men, to see if there were any that 
 did understand, and seek God. They are all gone aside, 
 they are altogether become filthy; there is none that doth 
 good, no, not one, ....... 35 
 
 Complaint of the general unconcernedness about salvation, ib. 
 
 Yet the Gospel a glorious salvation, .... 36 
 
 Faith in Christ, and the new creature, contain the sum of it, 38 
 
 Man a sinner, 39 
 
 Because an apostate creature, 40 
 
 The fruits of this apostacy in the heart, ... 43 
 
 And in the life, 44 
 
 The consequences of sin terrible, .... 46 
 
 By man's apostacy, dishonour is brought upon God's go- 
 vernment, ........ 47 
 
 He has lost the image of God, and is left in a state of unfit- 
 ness for God and happiness, ..... 48 
 
 And a sentence of wrath is gone forth against the world, 51 
 
 SERMON II. 
 
 THE HELPLESSNESS OF MAN. 
 
 Isaiah Ixiii. 5. — And I looked, and there was none to help; 
 and I wondered that there was none to uphold, . 55 
 
 Man cannot help himself, or compose the difference sin hath 
 
 made between God and him, ..... 58 
 
 Cannot render back the glory he has deprived God of, . ib. 
 
 Nor put on the disposition of a creature, ... 59 
 
 Nor satisfy the demands of God's infinite justice, . 64 
 
XX CONTENTS. 
 
 Page 
 
 Sin is man's greatest enemy, 69 
 
 It dishonours God, ib. 
 
 Defiles the soul of man, .71 
 
 Brings misery with and after it, 72 
 
 SERMON III. 
 
 THE POWER AND LOVE OF CHRIST. 
 
 Isaiah Ixiii. 5. — Therefore mine own arm brought salvation 
 unto me, 75 
 
 Jesus Christ is able to succour sinners, having taken away 
 all the dreadful circumstances that follow upon sin : and, 
 withal, he is willing to do so, 77 
 
 He hath fully vindicated, and restored God's injured glory, ib. 
 
 He hath obtained power to renew the hearts of men to their 
 original purity, ^ 
 
 He hath satisfied the demands of divine justice, and all this 
 by his obedience even unto death, .... 82 
 
 He is as willing to save as he is able, . . . .86 
 
 A review of the whole, in an expostulation with the sinner, 89 
 
 SERMON IV. 
 
 FAITH IN CHRIST. 
 
 John vi. 37. — He that cometh to me I will in nowise cast 
 
 OMt, 94 
 
 The sinner sensible of his misery and helplessness, . 95 
 
 And persuaded of Christ's power and love, . . . ib. 
 Determines to rest upon him, and venture all his eternal 
 
 interests with him, 96 
 
 More particularly, is come to him for pardon and peace with 
 
 God, tlirough the alone merit of his death and righteousness, 97 
 
 And to be rescued from the slavery of sin and Satan, . 98 
 
 And submits himself to be directed by his word and Spirit, 99 
 
 The truth of faith evidenced by its effects, . . . ib. 
 
 By his love of his Redeemer, 100 
 
 And by his deliverance from the dominion of sin and walking 
 
 in holiness, 101 
 
CONTENTS. xxi 
 
 Page 
 And by his meekly following the Holy Scriptures, . 102 
 A daily communication between the Saviour and real believer, 103 
 The foundation upon which this intercourse stands, . ib. 
 The believer is to labour after a deeper sense of his being 
 
 lost and undone in himself, ib. 
 
 To be sensible of his insufficiency, .... 104 
 To aim at more enlarged views of the fulness of Christ, 105 
 
 To seek more and more after a persuasion of Christ's love 
 
 and willingness, «^- 
 
 The great blessings the believer enjoys in this intercourse, 106 
 Forgiveness of sins, adoption, a child-like disposition, the 
 care of a Redeemer, a delightful fellowship with the faith- 
 ful, a thankful enjoyment of all God's creatures, a hope of 
 immortal blessedness, 
 
 ib. 
 
 SERMON V. 
 
 THE BELIEVER A NEW CREATURE. 
 2 Cor. v. 17.— If any man be in Christ, he is a new creature, 114 
 
 A change wrought by the grace of God upon the heart, pro- 
 perly called a 7iew creature, the assured consequence and 
 evidence of union with Christ, . • • • 1^^ 
 
 The author's plan in describing the character of the new 
 
 ^^'^ 
 creature, . . . • • 
 
 The sinner's eyes opened to a right sense of himself and all 
 
 thmgs, 
 
 He is humble, JJ^ 
 
 Humility described, •*•'*'.* ,oa 
 The character of the careless sinner and the formalist, l<iO 
 
 The new creature's main business is the care of his soul, 124 
 The careless sinner the reverse of this character, . H- 
 
 The formalist's character farther considered, . . 127 
 
 The new creature ready and peculiarly forward to spiritual 
 
 things, - . ^ ' J * • • 
 
 He hungers after growth in his heavenly busmess and spin- 
 
 tual concerns, 
 
 The new creature's character and that of the careless sm- 
 
 ner quite diflferent, 
 
XXll 
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 SERMON VL 
 
 SAME SUBJECT CONTINUED. 
 
 Page 
 
 The three eminent faculties of the soul in great disorder by 
 the fall; namely, the understanding, the will, and the 
 
 affections, 137 
 
 The new creature in the apprehensions of his understanding 
 with regard to the perfections and presence of the blessed 
 
 God, 140 
 
 With regard to Christ, 14^ 
 
 With regard to the Spirit, ib. 
 
 With regard to Sin, 146 
 
 With regard to God's Law, ib. 
 
 With regard to Providence, . . . . . . 147 
 
 With regard to Death, ib. 
 
 With regard to Heaven, - . . . . . .148 
 
 With regard to Hell, ....... ib. 
 
 With regard to Eternity, 14-9 
 
 The formal professor's apprehensions of these things, . 150 
 
 The apprehensions of the careless sinner to be observed, 155 
 
 SERMON VII. 
 
 SAME SUBJECT CONTINUED. 
 
 Concerning the will of the new creature, . . .162 
 
 The new creature chooses God for his portion, and not the 
 
 world, . . . , . . . . 165 
 
 The careless sinner's choice, ib. 
 
 The formalist's choice, . . . . . . 166 
 
 The new creature's choice, 167 
 
 The new creature chooses God's will, and not his own plea- 
 sure, 170 
 
 The formal and the careless do not, . . . .171 
 
 The affections, the third power of the soul, what they are, 172 
 The workings of love and hatred, hope and fear, joy and 
 sorrow, different in the new creature from the formalist 
 and careless sinner, ... . . . ib. 
 
 Love, the ruling affection, employed about different things 
 in the new and unrenewed mind, . . . . 175 
 
CONTENTS. xxiii 
 
 Page 
 The new creature's love to God, to Christ, to the Holy 
 
 Ghost, and to men, 176 
 
 His hatred, 179 
 
 His hopes and fears different from the natural man, . 180 
 His joy and sorrow also different, . . . . . 181 
 
 SERMON VIII. 
 
 SAME SUBJECT CONTINUED, 
 
 The expressions or exercises of the new creature described, 
 
 with regard to his thoughts, words, and actions, . 187 
 
 With regard to thoughts, he hath a serious turn of thinking, 188 
 
 An aptness to fall into holy meditation, .... 192 
 
 The thoughts of a natural man different, . . . ib. 
 
 The new creature doth not entertain defiling thoughts, . 194 
 
 The new creature's words, . . . . . . 197 
 
 A wide difference between the new creature's and the natural 
 man's words, . ... . . . . .198 
 
 The great evil of profane swearing, .... 200 
 
 The new creature treats the name of God with respect, . 201 
 The new creature hath a strong desire to come to the ordi- 
 nance of the Lord's supper, 203 
 
 He is to make thankful acknowledgments to his head, the 
 
 author of his new birth, ...... ib. 
 
 Christ and the promises are the new creature's, . . 204 
 The new creature is to come to that ordinance, for strength 
 
 and growth in grace, 205 
 
 SERMON IX. 
 
 SAME SUBJECT CONTINUED. 
 
 The new creature's course of action represented negatively 
 
 and positively, . ■ 208 
 
 He forbears all things which he knows to be sinful, . . 209 
 Whoever abides under the power and practice of any known 
 
 sin, cannot be a new creature, . . . . 210 
 Vain pretences to excuse the great sin of Drunkenness, . 211 
 The new creature hath not any thing in his course which he 
 suspects to be sinful, 212 
 
XXIV CONTENTS. 
 
 Page 
 The renewed man keeps from all needless temptations, . 215 
 The true-hearted Christian doth not come under the power 
 
 of any lawful thing, 217 
 
 His end in sleeping, dressing, eating and drinking, and re- 
 creation, 218 
 
 The new creature labours to give no offence in any thing, 221 
 The unrenewed man doth not think about others, . ib. 
 
 The new creature's zeal and manner of minding the things 
 
 of others, 223 
 
 Tlie wide opposition between the new creature and the un- 
 renewed man, as to his conduct, .... 224 
 
 SERMON X. 
 
 SAME SUBJECT CONTINUED. 
 
 The new creature's conduct represented positively, . 227 
 
 His plan and aim is to live to the glory of God, . . 228 
 He labours to glorify God in a due regard to divine worship, 231 
 And by a faithful diligence in his calling, . . . 234 
 
 He studies to glorify God in the relation he bears to others, 237 
 All his endowments and abilities of every kind are devoted 
 
 to God and his glory, 239 
 
 The true Christian is of a lovely character, . . , 244 
 
 SERMON XL 
 
 SAME SUBJECT CONTINUED. 
 
 A serious expostulation with the careless sinner and the 
 
 formal professor, and advice to the real Christian, . 248 
 
 The guilt and misery of thoughtless sinners, . . . 250 
 
 Their consciences must accuse and condemn them, . 251 
 
 A particular expostulation with the sinner, . . . 252 
 
 And with the formal professor, ... . . . 254 
 
 Th€ difference shown between formality and Christianity, 256 
 
 An address to the new creature, 259 
 
 To live to Christ, ...,;.. ib. 
 
 To put on charity, ....... t&. 
 
 To hold forth the word of life, 260 
 
 To have no fellowship with, but to reprove the unfi'uitful 
 
 works of darkness, 261 
 
TO THE 
 
 INHABITANTS OF TRURO. 
 
 My Dear Friends, 
 
 I HAVE ventured, at the instance of some pious 
 Christians, to make public the following Discourses, 
 which were originally intended for your service only. 
 The matter of them, at least, is of vast importance, 
 and such as it ought to be ray first concern that you 
 may be experimentally acquainted with. I thought 
 it therefore advisable to send them forth to the world 
 with a Dedication to you; that whilst by this means 
 I should have an opportunity of acknowledging the 
 obligations you have laid on me, and, in some sort, 
 of testifying the respect I bear you, I might also, 
 in a way hardly yet attempted by me, endeavour to 
 engage your regards to that " one thing," which in 
 a few years we shall all discover to be indeed " the 
 only thing needful." 
 
 Brethren, if my heart's desire towards you, that 
 ye may be partakers of Christ, makes me earnest 
 and importunate, is there not a cause, seeing your 
 happiness and my own are at stake ? I would not 
 that any one of you should " come short of entering 
 into God's rest." Nor can I forget the ministerial 
 vows that are upon me, and how fearful my doom, 
 B 19 
 
26 
 
 if any of you " die in your sins,'* without warning. 
 For your sakes and my own, then, I beg leave to 
 recommend to you this labour of love. 
 
 It is the character of a Christian, drawn as 
 faithfully as I have been enabled to do it from the 
 Holy Scriptures. It is not indeed a character which 
 will suit the generality of those who call themselves 
 by that name. Perhaps, also, it may make some, 
 who have formed too favourable an opinion of their 
 religious conduct, to be disgusted with themselves or 
 it. But if vital Christianity be either run down by 
 the torrent of infidelity and licentiousness, or be 
 dwindling into a ceremonial form, in the practice of 
 the few who live decently, and are well spoken of, it 
 becomes the " stewards of the mysteries of God" to 
 rise up to its rescue. It is this has engaged me to 
 present that to you in description, which is but too 
 rarely to be seen in life. That it may be made an 
 instrument in the hands of the Spirit, of forming you 
 after its likeness, is my first and most earnest desire. 
 And sliould God vouchsafe to grant this blessing 
 upon my attempt, to you and others, it will be my 
 highest comfort, and an encouraging answer to the 
 prayers and labours of. 
 
 Your affectionate Servant in Christ Jesus, 
 
 SAMUEL WALKER. 
 
 Truro, May 22, 1755. 
 
PREFACE, 
 
 Rev. THOMAS ADAM of Wintringham. 
 
 As the following Sermons are excellently calculated 
 to promote vital Christanity, by illustrating the 
 means and necessity of a real inward change, or the 
 recovery of man from his present state of gross in- 
 sensibility under the fall, to a life of acquaintance 
 and communion with God; it is hoped they will be 
 well received by serious persons of all denominations : 
 and, with the divine blessing, answer the Author's 
 design, in rousing the stupid sinner, undeceiving the 
 formalist, and animating men of good-will to higher 
 attainments. 
 
 If the single point insisted on in the first Sermon, 
 namely, the deep guilt of an apostate, independent 
 will, was duly attended to, it might be a means of 
 checking many of the careless, giddy tribe, in their 
 mad career of selfishness, and sensual pleasure; and 
 perhaps awaken some startling thoughts concerning 
 natural corruption, in the breast of the more cool ob- 
 jector to revelation in general. A rational creature, 
 made to be happy by knowing and loving God, and 
 a steady conformity to his will, and yet turned from 
 B2 
 
£8 
 
 him in the bent of its will and affections, and seeking 
 after happiness in opposition to him, is a monster in 
 nature. Do but allow the fact, which is sufficiently- 
 confirmed by the experience of all ages, and the con- 
 fession of the best men that ever lived, and we need 
 look nowhere else than to this poisoned fountain of 
 a selfish, corrupt will, for the vanity and wretched- 
 ness of our state. It may justly be questioned, whe- 
 ther there can possibly be two kinds of happiness in 
 nature, and whether God can conceive or produce a 
 happiness different from, and much less opposite to 
 his own. If then the happiness of God springs from, 
 and is one with the perfect rectitude of his will, and 
 there can possibly be no happiness in any part of 
 creation but according to his idea and standard of it, 
 the necessary consequence of a rebellious departure 
 from the sovereign will which made and governs the 
 universe, must be perpetual error, and certain misery. 
 And though God in mercy may instruct, admonish, 
 bear with, and use all suitable methods to reclaim his 
 perverted creatures from their foolish wanderings, 
 and bring them back again into the one sole road of 
 order and happiness, yet he has not the power, if he 
 could have the will, to make them happy out of it. 
 
 The disputer of this world thinks it too great a 
 stoop of majesty, for God to become man, that he 
 might accomplish the work of our redemption; and 
 cries out, not with pious admiration, but in the self- 
 sufficiency of his reason, What is man that thou 
 shouldst so regard him ? And the willing slaves of 
 sin, as well as those who are engaged in a continual 
 round of what is called innocent pleasure, or worldly 
 
99 
 
 business, and who abandon themselves with full re- 
 lish to the comforts of the animal life, without un- 
 derstanding and seeking after God, take refuge m 
 mercy, and make it the first, if not the only article 
 of their creed ; meaning by that, a power or will in 
 the Most High to dispense with truth and jus- 
 tice, in order to suit their case, and sneering at the 
 horrid word, damnation. But the answer to both 
 is, that the recovery of self-conscious intelligent be- 
 ings, from a state of enmity and rebellion against 
 their Maker, and their eternal happiness or misery, 
 is no trifle with God, though it is with man. — 
 That if help was wanted, it would be offered ; and 
 when it was, we might well suppose it would be in a 
 way far exceeding our natural thoughts and appre- 
 hensions. — That the greatness and mysteriousness 
 of the deliverance, shows dreadfully the greatness of 
 our danger, and the infinite malignity of that dispo- 
 sition in man which required it. — That it comes to 
 us in the way of a cure; and as restoration of health 
 to the soul. — That our great spiritual disorder, ter- 
 rible corruption, and absolute incapacity for happi- 
 ness, is the aversion of our wills from God, and op- 
 position to him in self; — and that if we reject our 
 remedy, by refusing to return to an union of will 
 with him, there is no such resource of mercy in his 
 nature as we vainly dream of: we have the essence 
 of misery in ourselves, and by our own obstinate 
 choice of it, put an eternal bar to his goodness. 
 
 I suppose Christ has given us sufficient intima- 
 tion of the state we are in, and carries us to the 
 root of our distemper, when he teaches us to pray, 
 " that God's will may be done in earth, as it is in 
 
' 30 
 
 heaven;" and charges us to " deny ourselves, take 
 up our cross, and follow him, whose meat and drink 
 it was to do the will of him that sent him;" nay, tells 
 us, that "whosoever he he that forsaketh not all that 
 he hath, he cannot be his disciple." Does not this 
 seem a grievous, hard saying to thee ? Art thou 
 unwilling to cross thy desires, and give up all thy 
 worldly views of profit or pleasure for the will of 
 God? Deceive thyself no longer; trust not in an 
 outward civility, nor any kind of life, whether in 
 religion or in the world; thy sin is found out for 
 thee. Thou mayest see in this glass wherein thou 
 " comest short of the glory of God" — of glorifying 
 God by a profound submission to his will, which is 
 his glory in and from man; — and what is the true 
 cause of every other sinful exorbitance in thee. 
 
 And therefore I cannot but think, that the Author 
 has judiciously singled out this capital instance of 
 man's corruption, an usurping wiU, broken off from 
 God, to draw our thoughts as it were to a point, 
 and strike conviction into the soul; as well as justly 
 represented the guilt, and fatal consequences of it. 
 If the charge is false, we have comparatively no sin: 
 the love and practice of every virtue being implied 
 in the contrary disposition. But if it is true, and 
 we are not in subjection to the Father of spirits, 
 adoring his nature and will, pleased with his com- 
 mands, and resigned to his providences, the word of 
 truth has but one call for us, " Repent, and be con- 
 verted." Whatever we pretend, or however we may 
 appear outwardly to men, so long as there is this root 
 of a secret enmity against God in the heart, an ali- 
 enated, self-pleasing, opposing will, we dishonour 
 
31 
 
 him in the whole state of our lives, and the whole 
 course of our beings; we can have no communion 
 with him here, nor enjoyment of him hereafter. 
 
 The peculiar doctrines of the gospel are easily- 
 connected with, and follow close upon this discovery. 
 Guilt incurred, punishment due, and infinite justice 
 demanding it, what shall ward off the blow ? Re- 
 pentance, and return to God: — So unbelieving man 
 says ; making a merit of it ; supposing that he has 
 the power to repent and return, in and of himself; 
 and that whenever he does, God must receive him 
 to favour. But these are dangerous suppositions to 
 trust to for eternity; and utterly insufficient to re- 
 lieve the conscience, labouring under a sense of guilt, 
 and looking out every way for some better ground of 
 hope. I will venture to say, it is hardly possible 
 for the convinced awakened soul to trust to them; 
 and I fear those who do, have another secret suppo 
 sition in reserve, which is, that sin is not of so dead- 
 ly a nature, nor so odious to God, as it must be upon 
 the Christian scheme. A real belief of the guilt 
 and danger of it, will necessarily be attended with 
 alarming apprehensions of the defectiveness of re- 
 pentance, of its insufficiency, at the best, for satisfac- 
 tion, and of our impotence to good in the future 
 course of our lives. And this sense will dispose, 
 if not force us to receive the much-wanted, friendly 
 aid of revelation ; and to form our conduct upon the 
 notion of a Scripture God, instead of one of our 
 own making. For notwithstanding the boasted 
 perfection of human reason, and our conceited, arro- 
 gant pretences to supernatural knowledge, God will 
 always be unknown, as to his counsels, ways, and 
 
32 
 
 actings, if he does not reveal himself. The de- 
 scription given of him, " as forgiving iniquity, trans- 
 gression and sin, and yet by no means clearing the 
 guilty,*' exceeds all the understanding of the natu- 
 ral man ; and would still have been a mystery, if 
 Christ had not explained it, by bearing our sins in 
 his own body, reconciling us to God by his death, 
 bringing in a perfect righteousness for us, enabling 
 us by his Spirit to subdue the power of sin in our- 
 selves, and completing our redemption by making us 
 " new creatures," fit for heaven. 
 
 These great points are clearly opened, and pathe- 
 tically enforced in the following Discourses; which 
 we doubt not will be generally considered as the re- 
 sult of experience, answerable to their title, and a 
 fair draught of the Christian. And if the author 
 should be remarked by any as one of the over-doers, 
 hurting the cause he would serve; let him be en- 
 titled to no apology, if he has gone beyond the rule 
 of Scripture : which indeed prescribes an amazing 
 height of purity for such a weak and sinful creature 
 as man ; but is nevertheless necessary to be proposed 
 to him in its full extent, to convince him of his sin, 
 bring him to Christ, direct him in his aims, prove 
 his sincerity, and quicken his endeavours. And to 
 speak only of an absolute submission to the will of 
 God, who will presume to affirm that less is required 
 of us? It would be an ill office in a Christian di- 
 vine, to tell men exactly where they may stop with- 
 out hazard ; and he would have but little thanks for 
 his pains from zealous persons, endued from above 
 with a true spiritual taste, whose state is progressive, 
 and their hearts bent upon continual advancement in 
 
83 
 
 holiness: which is what his description of the "new 
 creature," impHes; and not that none can be saved 
 who come short of it, provided they are going on to 
 perfection, and trust not in themselves, but in the 
 Lord Jesus Christ. 
 
 It must be confessed, he is somewhat plain, does 
 not palliate matters, bears hard upon the old man, 
 and strips him of all his disguises. And therefore 
 it may be supposed, that some, who have been used 
 to prop themselves with the false divinity of their 
 moral character, and a decent conformity to the ex- 
 ternal parts of religion, will be offended. This he 
 knew very well, and that his hardest work would be 
 with those who will let religion do any thing with 
 them but change their hearts, and alter the earthly 
 bent of their affections. And that there are such 
 at all times in Christian countries, pretenders to god- 
 liness, but in the main opposeis of the reality of it, 
 and the bitterest enemies, of all others, to those 
 who would lead them into that depth and mystery 
 of iniquity, their own heart, is not to be denied. 
 But whoever thou art, sinner or formaHst, be so 
 just to thyself, and to thy eternal interest in the Sa- 
 viour, as to read what is here offered thee without 
 prejudice, if not with good will, to one whom thou 
 must acquit in thy conscience of any design but good 
 will towards thee. And if the formalist, especially, 
 should be disgusted at the home expostulations upon 
 his case, and more incHned to reject them with dis- 
 dain, than to take occasion from them to enter upon 
 an impartial examination of himself, let him be as- 
 sured, that he has just cause to suspect that all is 
 not sound with him at the bottom. ' 
 B3 
 
34 
 
 An4 let all watchful improving Christians, who 
 know their want of deliverance, their disability in 
 their natural statCj and want of merit in their best, 
 Christ's power and will to save them to the utmost 
 in all respects, their willingness to be saved by him, 
 faithful adherence to him, and faithful co-operation 
 with the Spirit of holiness for a renewed will, and 
 a sanctified heart, choosing God for its portion, and 
 seeking his kingdom and righteousness in the first 
 place; let them, I say, bless God for the light and 
 spirit of the Author, and pray with me that he 
 would raise up, every-where, such painful labourers 
 and faithful stewards of the word of life; and that 
 they may be blessed with a measure of success, as he 
 is in his ministry at Truro; and it is reasonably pre- 
 sumed, will be in other places, by the publication of 
 these discourses, as the first impression of them has 
 been so quickly sold off. 
 
 One thing more is humbly submitted to the read- 
 er's consideration, namely, whether the points of 
 man's sin and guilt, restoration by grace, acceptance 
 through Christ, and the necessity of spiritual reno- 
 vation, are not fairly reasoned ; and whether, though 
 not discoverable by human wisdom, yet, when re- 
 vealed, they do not come within our capacity of 
 judging, and recommend themselves to our belief 
 and approbation? And what I would observe upon 
 it is, that it is doing unspeakable mischief to the 
 Christian religion, to distinguish those who, either 
 from principle or compliance with the corrupt taste 
 of the age, soften, or too generally suppress these 
 points, by the name of Rational Divines. 
 
ij;rmon I. 
 
 THE SINFULNESS AND MISERY OF MAN. 
 
 Psalm xiv. 2, 3. 
 
 The Lord looked down from heaven upon the children of men, 
 to see if there were any that did understand, and seek God. 
 They are all gone aside, they are altogether become filthy : 
 There is none that doeth good, no not one. 
 
 With whatever degree of coolness arid insensibility 
 the present high privileges and the eternal glorious 
 promises offered in the gospel, may now be received; 
 yet there have been times, when Christianity held an 
 honourable dignity in the eye, and carried a reviving 
 joy into the heart. But in our day, " the God of 
 this world," seems to have blinded men's eyes, and 
 hardened their hearts : they have little pleasure in 
 his beauty, who is " fairer than the children of 
 men;" nor do they find the gospel of his lips to be 
 full of grace. The king is come bringing salvation: 
 he is come in the name of the Lord to " preach 
 good tidings unto the meek, to bind up the broken- 
 hearted, to proclaim liberty to the captives, and the 
 opening of the prison to them that are bound; to 
 proclaim the acceptable year of the Lord." But 
 
36 
 
 where are the knees and hearts of his people? where 
 " the children crying Hosanna ! Blessed is he that 
 Cometh in the name of the Lord ?" We name our- 
 selves after the name of Christ ; but interest, plea- 
 sure, and vanity, have gained to themselves our al- 
 leijfiance and devotion. Here we can '* bow down 
 and worship," with eager importunity; here we can 
 amuse away life; here, calmly steal into grey hairs 
 and the grave : but should we invite men by the 
 mercies of the Lord; should we go about to engage 
 them by a full display of that excellent love of God, 
 which is manifested in Jesus Christ, to beseech them 
 by the dignity of Christ's person, and by the suffi- 
 ciency of his power to every purpose of their sal- 
 vation ; should we strive with them that they would 
 lay hold of this everlasting life, dearly purchased, 
 and freely offered ; who is there almost that would 
 lend an ear? Men are careless and asleep : security, 
 the offspring of pride, ignorance, and hardness of 
 heart, hath shut them in as with a fenced wall of 
 brass: God is left " far above out of sight;" and 
 every awful consideration of duty, gratitude, and 
 true interest, due to him, is negligently cast behind 
 their backs. 
 
 With what confidence then can I address you 
 upon the glorious blessings of the gospel salvation ; 
 lay before you the way of Hfe, and mark out the evi- 
 dence upon which you may set up a claim to God's 
 favour through the Redeemer ! I shall only speak 
 into the air, only gratify your curiosity, only engage 
 your imagination, and amuse you with an entertain- 
 ment of an hour, " as one that hath a pleasant voice, 
 
37 
 
 and can play well on an instrument;" unless you be 
 deeply impressed with the importance of the matter; 
 and enter into an inquiry after the things that make 
 for your peace, as if it were for your life. If you 
 will profit by the following discourses, you must not 
 be of the faithless stamp of the times; you must at 
 least have this preparation of mind, a serious con- 
 cern about salvation. And 1 will not believe, that 
 you are so without understanding, whatever you are, 
 however heedless and wilful in your sins, as to have 
 determinately given over all care for your soul. I 
 will hope, that somehow or other I shall, by divine 
 grace, reach your heart, and move you to some 
 awakened reflections upon that which concerns you 
 more than a thousand worlds. Nay, 1 will be con- 
 fident, that I shall be heard of many who desire to 
 " know the certainty of the words of truth ;" and 
 would " examine themselves whether they be in the 
 faith." 
 
 It is not my business to please men ; and there- 
 fore, if you shall be detained with a subject which 
 must of necessity prove very offensive to human 
 pride, altogether opposite to worldly views, and de- 
 structive of carnal indulgence, see that ye be not 
 offended. " Christ's kingdom is not of this world." 
 He hath no offers to make, which invite by the indul- 
 gence they give to vanity, grandeur, and ease. Just 
 the contrary : his invitations are spiritual and eter- 
 nal; nor can they be relished, till a man " deny 
 himself, mortify his affections which are upon earth, 
 and crucify the flesh." Him that is such a one, 
 Christ will visit with his consolations. Such a one 
 
38 
 
 shall receive out of Christ's fulness, peace, accep* 
 tance with God, and sanctification; with help in 
 every time of need against the enemies of his soul, 
 in the present life; and in that which is to come, a 
 glorious rejoicing in the great day of the Lord Jesus, 
 and an inheritance in the eternal kingdom. It is 
 my design, in this and some following discourses, to 
 give you an account of tlie gospel salvation, and to 
 lead you either to seek or discover an interest iu_ 
 Jesus Christ. What I have to advance hereupon, 
 will divide itself into two principal particulars; each 
 of which will demand some larger measure of your 
 attention and time. They are faith, and the new 
 creature; which, together, will comprehend the 
 sum of gospel salvation. 
 
 The former of them is faith. And this it will 
 be my endeavour to illustrate in such a manner, 
 that while ye shall see what faith is, ye may be able 
 to prove yourselves, if in this way ye arc seeking 
 God; and, if ye are out of it, ye may know the 
 measures to be taken in order to a right faith in 
 Jesus Christ. 
 
 You must suffer me here to use great freedom 
 of speech; to charge you with sin, in behalf of the 
 Majesty of heaven; and to remonstrate with you 
 upon the sad consequences which your sin has drawn 
 after it: — I must be allowed to tell you, that these 
 consequences it is not in your power to remove: — 
 After this, my message will be more agreeable, in 
 the declaration of Christ's ability and willingness to 
 succour you: — And the conclusion will be, an ac- 
 count of faith. 
 
39 
 
 Let me engage you to remark the near con- 
 nexion there is between these several points. Sin 
 hath brought man into a ruinous state; out of this 
 state man cannot help himself: Christ offers him res- 
 cue ; and with this offer man must comply, if he will 
 be delivered. 
 
 To lay the ground-work, I must, in the first 
 place, be free to charge you with sin, in behalf of 
 the Majesty of heaven; and then will remonstrate 
 with you upon the sad consequences which your sin 
 has drawn after it. And the words of the Psalm 
 read for the text, give me foundation enough for the 
 general charge and expostulation I have to make. 
 *' The Lord looked down from heaven upon the 
 children of men; to see if there were any that did 
 understand, and seek God. They are all gone 
 aside, they are altogether become filthy: there is 
 none that doth good, no not one." 
 
 One indeed there was in our nature, who might 
 boldly say, " Who convinceth me of sin ?" " You 
 see my manner of life ; you know my actions : tell 
 me wherein I have broken the least commandment; 
 wherein, in the nicest particular, I have neglected 
 what God would have me do, or done what he forbids. 
 Not one among you can convince me of sin : No, ye 
 blasphemers; nor can your 'father the devii.' Ho 
 tried all his arts upon me : but no carnal appetite, no 
 proud imagination, no covetous, ambitious desire, 
 could be found in me. Yen, my heavenly Father, 
 who knoweth the very secrets of the heart, hath 
 found no wickedness in me. He hath honoured 
 me by a voice from heaven, declaring his pleasure in 
 
40 
 
 mc ; because he knoweth, that as I am come to do his 
 will, so I keep his sayings." Thus he might set up 
 a claim to purity of heart and integrity of life; and 
 neither God, nor man, nor devil, could disallow it. 
 But every other mouth is stopped. God charges sin 
 against us all. Alas ! so many iniquities are gone 
 over our heads, that I am at a loss wherewith to 
 befrin the black cataWue. 
 
 But where shall I begin the accusation, unless 
 with that which is the root of all the rest? " Your 
 soul hath been without the disposition of a creature, 
 and hath affected independency." This is my 
 charge in God's behalf against you all; ye have had 
 a pleasure and a will within you, not subordinate to 
 the will and pleasure of God. 
 
 " Let all things serve God," is the one equitable 
 law of the universe. For he is " our Father, and 
 we all are the work of his hands." Nay, but mark 
 the design of our being, he " made all things for 
 himself," he " created us for his glory," he " formed 
 us" that we should " show forth his praise." There 
 must bebut one king and one pleasure in all the world. 
 Every inferior being must be subject to the supreme 
 will of God ; so the order of creation demands. But 
 apostate angels first affected to have a will of their 
 own ; to erect a pleasure within them, not subordi- 
 nate but opposite to the good pleasure of God. Thus 
 rebellion was conceived against the divine will; and 
 among the creatures in heaven, many vainly aspired 
 to be independent of the Creator. Man, too, has 
 trod in the same steps: all of us have a will of our 
 own, which opposes the sovereign will of God. 
 
41 
 
 In proof of this I must appeal to yourselves. Was 
 there not a time, when your heart knew little fear of 
 God's displeasure; when you were insensible of his 
 presence, unmoved with any awful apprehensions of 
 his majesty, untouched with any feeling of love to« 
 wards him, wherein " God was not in all your 
 thoughts?" Say, hath not God seen you in such a 
 state? if it be not now your very condition? Have 
 not days and years gone over you, wherein the 
 Searcher of hearts, considering your soul, might find 
 nothing there but a horrid forgetfulness of your 
 Maker ; not so much as a desire to serve him, and 
 submit to his pleasure; when you lived at your 
 discretion, not caring for God, and carried on by in- 
 clinations which were directly contrary to his law? I 
 speak not now of what you did; I intend not one ac- 
 tion or another which were sinful; it is not in ques- 
 tion at present, whether you were lewd or chaste, 
 drunken or temperate, a knave or honest, a trifler 
 or diligent; my charge against you is, that in those 
 days, whatever you did, you did what you would, 
 and because you would; you were pleasing your- 
 self, and not God; you had not a creature-like 
 regard to him in your conduct. Be faithful for 
 God, though it be against yourself: had you at that 
 time any real concern about the will and pleasure of 
 him that made you? Had you either thought or 
 design of pleasing God? 
 
 True, you considered not in those easy days that 
 you were acting that monstrous part you did; you 
 reflected not, that to forget, to cast off God, and do 
 as we list, carries in it all the foul sins of ingratitude. 
 
4^ 
 
 midutifulness, rebellion; that you were degrading 
 the Almighty from his throne, and placing yourself 
 in his stead. If you will look well to it, you shall 
 find no other sin like this. The stubbornness of 
 children, the negligence of intrusted servants, the 
 unfaithfulness of most obliged dependents, the dis- 
 loyalty of chief favourites, and whatever else supposes 
 insensibility, obdurateness, and treachery, is implied 
 in this one thing; a careless forgetfulness of God. 
 
 Or suppose, through the peculiar blessing of a 
 pious education, you " have remembered your Crea- 
 tor from your youth ;" yet have you found no incli- 
 nation within you to cast off the yoke? No risings 
 of a will of your own against the will of God? 
 Hath there not been something in you which would 
 plead for a dispensation of the commandments of 
 God? Something which hath made you ready to mur- 
 mur at God's providential directions ; and to be dis- 
 pleased with the spirituality and strictness of the law? 
 Consider the passages of your heart, what they have 
 been, and what they too often are; and you shall readi- 
 ly confess the universal truth, that " the heart of man 
 is desperately wicked," even " enmity against God," 
 although you were never numbered with that more 
 insolent tribe, " who say unto God, Depart from us; 
 for we desire not the knowledge of thy way. What 
 is the Almighty, that we should serve him ? and 
 what profit should we have, if we pray unto him ?" 
 
 Alas ! what a sight must a world of such self- 
 willed rebels have been in the eye of God ! A 
 world of creatures, " turned every one to his own 
 way." And such have you been, whatever you are. 
 
43 
 
 you are joined in the general apostacy. O let us all 
 feel and own the never-enough to be lamented truth ; 
 all of us are rebels and apostates ! This is the evil 
 stock, which hath put forth its branches, and yielded 
 its fruit in a variety of sin. 
 
 Being set up for yourself, you were impatient of 
 God's providential government of you. — When he 
 smote you with his gracious and well-designed afflic- 
 tions, you were fretful: you acknowledged not his 
 hand, nor his goodness in them ; but, disordered in 
 your ungentle spirit, you wreaked that peevish anger 
 upon those about you, which you durst not discharge 
 against God. You must have your own will and 
 way : when you found not compliance in others, you 
 grew haughtily enraged or sullenly displeased; when 
 disappointment met you in your worldly projects, or 
 carnal joys, or even innocent amusements, the trou- 
 bled sea of discontent was within you ; you could not 
 endure the least opposition with patience, as iF you 
 had been the Lord of the universe, and all things 
 were to be devoted to your humour. 
 
 God being forgotten, you " minded earthly 
 things," the favour of men, and the wealth of this 
 world : in quest of praise, you were fawning and de- 
 ceitful ; in search of wealth, you were sordid and 
 selfish. Reputation and wealth made you proud 
 and vain; and that pride and vanity v.'ould endure 
 no rival : you must be the foremost in abundance 
 and respect. Hence your heart was filled with en- 
 vious disgust and malicious pleasure, as others out- 
 stript or fell beneath you in these your flivourite 
 pursuits. 
 
44. 
 
 Meantime, tbat delicate body of yours was craving 
 for indulgence. The eye, the ear, the palate; every 
 sense lusted for its peculiar gratification. Your soul 
 was carnal. You were but a beast with more refine- 
 ment; may I not add, with more luxury too? 
 
 You must own now, that your inward parts have 
 been very wickedness; that God hath seen your 
 soul without the disposition of a dependent creature; 
 that you have had an indisposition of spirit, either to 
 do his will, or to submit yourself and your affairs to 
 his ordering; that your love hath been laid upon 
 present enjoyments, in the pursuit of which you have 
 been proud, envious, malicious, deceitful, and selfish; 
 that lust or indulgence hath taken place of spiritual 
 and reasonable gratifications within you, rendering 
 your soul insensible to every thing, but the enjoy- 
 ments of the lower part, of which you are composed. 
 Such was the disposition of your soul. And how 
 filthy and defiled then were you ! What a sight 
 in the pure eye of God ! And judge now what the 
 fruit of so corrupt a tree must have been. 
 
 Surely all the outward carriage could have no- 
 thing of worth in it. Whatever was the issue in 
 the thoughts, words, and actions, it was but the way 
 of one who knew not God. There micrht be a re<TU- 
 larity free of scandal; a form there might be of god- 
 liness; but since the principles of the heart were thus 
 corrupted, nothing which proceeded out of it could 
 do other than oftend God. And what a load of 
 guilt must you have contracted, while you were thus 
 trading and living in a state of sin, all within and 
 without evil continually. Consider what a heavy 
 
45 
 
 charge God hath against you for those rebelHous 
 days of your Hfe, when you were not serving him, 
 but following your own lusts. 
 
 From this general accusation, should I descend 
 to particulars ; should I charge you with the acts 
 of sin, which have been compassed and contrived in 
 your own heart, without being brought forth into 
 outward conduct, how would time and calculation 
 fail to bring before you the incessant actings of 
 pride and impatience, of hatred and resentment, of 
 envy and malice ; the ceaseless contrivances for 
 worldly honour and wealth ; the projects which have 
 passed through your mind, for the enjoyments of 
 pleasure and lust ! Ah, how would you sink under 
 the condemnation, could you see only the sin which 
 hath been committed in your own heart, in desire 
 and purpose, but was prevented in the practice and 
 execution ! Might I herewith also draw into one 
 view all the sins of your life, such as the heedless 
 discharge of the pecuhar duties of your station, and 
 the repeated omissions of them ; the hour vainly 
 squandered, and the talents sacrilegiously misap- 
 plied ; the scandalous submissions and bowing the 
 neck to human favour, and the irrecoverable oppor- 
 tunities you have lost of glorifying God, and be- 
 nefiting your neighbour. In a word, the many 
 leanings and approaches to grosser acts of sin, and 
 the repeated commission of those acts themselves, 
 of whatever kind, together with the aggravations 
 attending them ; their having been done against 
 knowledge and conscience : should I be able to 
 draw up this charge and catalogue of actual sins 
 against you, confusion must needs cover your face. 
 
46 
 
 and you would see your " iniquities increased over 
 your head," and your " trespasses grown up unto 
 the heavens." 
 
 Let conscience speak; and how great will the 
 sum of your sins he ! But however multiplied and 
 aggravated your trespasses are, place them all to the 
 account of that undutiful and apostate spirit which 
 possessed you, your own usurping will and plea- 
 sure. This was the fountain that sent forth all 
 these hitter waters. This hath been the founda- 
 tion of all the other tvil dispositions of your heart, 
 and of the various acts of iniquity which lie against 
 you ; even this forgetfulness of God as your Crea- 
 tor. It is this which hath frustrated the end of 
 creation, dishonoured God, provoked him to dis- 
 pleasure, and placed man at a distance from his God 
 and happiness. And here you are but one of the 
 many, but one among the whole race of men, all of 
 whom have been found in the same apostacy you are 
 charged with. For " all are gone out of the way : 
 all are become filthy." Wherefore, they and you 
 togetlier, as making up a " world lying in wicked- 
 ness," have the greatest need to weigh with an 
 awakened attention, the sad consequences of such 
 a revolt from, and rebellion against, the majesty of 
 the Almighty. 
 
 And the consequences thereof are these three 
 just now hinted at. — Hereby dishonour is brought 
 upon God's government; man is sunk into a state 
 of unfitness for God and happiness; and a sentence 
 of wrath is gone forth against the world. 
 
 The ^rst of these consequences is, that by the 
 
47 
 
 sin of man, dishonour is brought upon God's domi- 
 nion and government. God said, " Let us make 
 man : It is my sovereign pleasure, that man should 
 be. Let him live, and I will reign over him ; let 
 him do my will ; let him execute my pleasure. I 
 will be known in this earth which I have made." 
 Such was the great and gracious design of the eter- 
 nal God ; such, the end of man's creation. But 
 see now, how little this design is answered ; yea 
 consider, if God be acknowledged as " the great 
 king over all the earth." Where is the hearty 
 wiUing submission of his creatures ? Where the 
 delightful attendance upon his honourable service? 
 It is nowhere to be found. To the disgrace of his 
 majesty and glory, God hath utterly been deprived 
 of his dominion and rule ; is not avowed by the 
 children of men, as the wise and mighty Lord, as 
 the kind and most affectionate parent. His sove- 
 reignty is disallowed ; man hath forsaken and for- 
 gotten him. All sense of obligation to him hath 
 ceased ; all duty hath failed ; all dependence hath 
 been rejected. God hath been left by us to his 
 heavens and his angels, nor known upon earth to 
 be what he is. War, as it were, hath been de- 
 clared against him ; every-where, and by every one 
 of us, he hath been robbed of his dominion ; and 
 man hath set up for the Lord of the world. And 
 what other dishonour could we possibly have brought 
 upon God, than by this apostacy ? Proud man ! 
 thou couldst do no more than this, against thy 
 Maker: thou couldst not think of setting up thy 
 puny arm against the strength of the Almighty; 
 
 -"■N, 
 
 ^ 
 
48 
 
 thou couldst not hale him out of his heavens ; but 
 all which thy little insolence could do, thou hast 
 done. Thou hast forgotten him, deprived him of 
 his dominion over thee; thou hast caused him to 
 be unknown m this earth, which his hands have 
 made ; thou hast stubbornly opposed thyself to his 
 wiU. And what wouldst thou do more to his dis- 
 honour ? It is not in thine hand to dishonour him 
 more. Oh, how must the faithful holy angels look 
 upon such a world as this ? What resentments 
 must they feel for the glory of their God, so vilely 
 trampled upon ! Burning with a sacred zeal for 
 the injured dignity of their God, have they not 
 been ready to cry out, " Arise, O God ! plead 
 thine own cause !" " See how foolish man reproach- 
 eth thee daily !" " Arise, and let thine enemies be 
 scattered !" This is the first sad consequence of 
 sin, the disgrace it brings upon God as the Gover- 
 nor of the world. 
 
 The second event of man's apostacy is, that he 
 is left in a state of unfitness for God and glory. 
 " In thy presence is fulness of joy," said David. 
 Doubtless there is so, not only in heaven, but even 
 here ; for David spoke from experience ; he found 
 God's " favour to be life," his " loving-kindness 
 to be better than life itself." But then, neither 
 in time nor eternity, can there be a capacity for this 
 joy, unless the will of man be in conformity with, 
 and subjection to, the will of God. Without this, 
 there can be no " entering into the joy of the 
 Lord." I can easily conceive of the full joy of 
 those blessed angels, who, always beholding the 
 
49 
 
 face of God, " do his commandments, hearkening 
 unto the voice of his word." But if one malig- 
 nant spirit were among them, who affected inde- 
 pendency, whose will drew, in the least degree, 
 contrary to God's pleasure ; sure I am, he must be 
 a stranger to the joy of heaven. Nay, did any of 
 them come short of an entire, free, and full submis- 
 sion of spirit to God's will, in any the least mea- 
 sure, such must so far fail of tasting the "pleasures 
 at God's right hand." Now, in this respect, there 
 is no difference between angels and us. An obedi- 
 ent spirit, an unreserved submission of soul to 
 God's will, is the only qualification for happiness 
 in us, as well as in them. But you have seen how 
 you have been without such a frame of soul ; and, 
 if you are returning to your duty, you cannot but 
 lament how you still fall short of an entire confor- 
 mity of your will to God's. Man's selfish will di- 
 rects him to a choice which is far distant from God 
 and happiness. You have chosen your own glory, 
 and your own pleasure ; have been intent on seek- 
 ing human praise, and bodily indulgence : and have 
 been pursuing earthly things, whether the v/ealth, 
 the opinion, or the honours of the world, in order 
 to gratify your vanity and your lust. Your will and 
 choice hath been thus downward ; directly contrary 
 to that full and entire choice of God's service a'nd 
 glory, which can only make you meet for his pre- 
 sence. But can these things, which the perverted 
 will of man hath made its choice; can these present 
 gratifications, upon which man hath set his heart, 
 afford him happiness ? Can the praise and ap- 
 C 19 
 
50 
 
 plause of men, those bubbles which a breath of air 
 both swells and bursts; can the highest-fashioned 
 elegancies of bodily indulgence ; can wealth and 
 worldly honour, bring real and solid content to the 
 soul? Let the daily complainings of the most 
 prosperous ; let the unsatisfiedness of those who en- 
 joy pleasure in the largest share ; let the restless- 
 ness of spirit within, while all is favourable with- 
 out ; let all this witness, that mistaken man seeks 
 blessedness where it cannot be found. Or say, you 
 should be happy, as your heart can wish, all the 
 days of your life ; yet, when your sun declines, and 
 is set in the great ocean of death, what qualifica- 
 tion would you have about you, for the other and 
 eternal world ? Alas ! a proud, earthly, carnal 
 mind, is not meet for the company, the praises, 
 the services of heaven. Men may talk of the 
 mercy of God, and conceive of being admitted to 
 heaven, after all their carelessness and sinful cour- 
 ses ; but if heaven be the enjoyment of God, and 
 the business of it his service, he whose heart is its 
 own master, and who affects not spiritual gratifica- 
 tions, would find the sight of God to be terrible, 
 and his service the most grievous slavery. 
 
 It is not, therefore, among the least of the evil 
 consequences which sin hath brought after it, that 
 it hath set you at variance with God. Perhaps you 
 may be easy enough for the present, and be now 
 insensible to any hurt you receive, through the 
 want of an obedience, love, and honour of spirit, 
 to your heavenly King. Your backwardness to 
 think of him, your listlcssness when you are near 
 
51 
 
 him, the unruliness of your wayward heart, utterly 
 averse to do or to bear his will ; your entire afFec- 
 tioD to the world, your delight in carnal pleasures, 
 your self-esteem; all these inventions which you have 
 sought out, may give you little pain in this your 
 day upon earth. But when you shall, by and by, 
 be forced against your will into eternity, then you 
 shall feel to your cost, what a sore evil it is to be 
 without the obedient spirit of a creature, to be bar- 
 ren of all love towards God, and to be desolate of 
 all heavenly graces, and so without all possibility 
 of happiness for ever. This world passeth " as a 
 dream when one awaketh," and the next altogether 
 unfit for you ; what a disconsolate soul must you be 
 upon the moment of your separation ! And, upon 
 both these consequences, follows, in the 
 
 Third place, as the event of man's apostacy, 
 that a sentence of wrath is gone forth against the 
 world. God is able to maintain his own cause ; he 
 is able fully to vindicate the wrong which the law- 
 less world hath done to his honour. He doth not 
 affect a dominion which he wants power to man- 
 age. He '' sitteth over all from the beginning," 
 and he " remaineth a king for ever." " Hell and 
 destruction are before him," nor can any " stay his 
 hand, or say unto him. What dost thou ?" And 
 can we conceive that God, jealous of his rights, 
 who " will not give his glory to another," shall 
 tamely submit to so provoking an insult as the uni- 
 versal rebellion of his creatures ? Shall he not 
 avenge himself upon us, and make it known from 
 one side of the heaven to the other, by the exem- 
 C 2 
 
52 
 
 plary justice he will do himself upon us, that " he 
 is God, and there is none else ?" We have drawn 
 a curtain over his glory, nor doth he yet make it 
 his glory to appear ; he suffers it to be hid a little 
 space ; but he will magnificently glorify himself in 
 the day of his vengeance, and " all the earth shall 
 know that God is the Lord." You may make light 
 of sin, now that ye see not the hand of justice yet 
 stretched out ; ye may take little account of the 
 dishonour ye do unto God in the strange forgetful- 
 ness of your ways; but hear what the God of truth 
 saith, he who changeth not, and whose words shall 
 not fail : " The Lord is slow to anger, and great 
 in power, and will not at all acquit the wicked." 
 " The soul that sinneth, shall die." And, " The 
 wrath of God is revealed from heaven, against all 
 ungodliness and unrii^hteousness of men." Not to 
 multiply passages ; throughout the gospel revela- 
 tion, the offers made us of mercy do ever suppose 
 us to be in a lost and undone state, by reason of 
 sin. The established appointment and decree of 
 God in heaven and earth is, " The wages of sin is 
 death." By the punishment of sin, God will main- 
 tain his glory, which the insolence of sin seems to 
 have deprived him of, till the recompense of ven- 
 geance " make his mighty power to be known." 
 Lay it to heart, then, whoever you are : you have 
 sinned, provokingly rebelled against your Maker; 
 and how " fearful a thing is it to fall into the 
 hands of the living God!" Let me suggest to you 
 the certainty of that wrath, the eternity of that 
 vengeance, the depth and horror of that Tophet, 
 
53 
 
 the fury of that fire, which the breath of the Lord 
 kindles. If sin, like a devouring army, hath al- 
 ready brought desolation after it ; if it hath entailed 
 the curse of God upon nature, and upon ourselves ; 
 judge, then, what store of vengeance is prepared 
 for it against that day, when it shall be fully re- 
 warded. But whatever that vengeance be, sin hath 
 made you all the children and heirs of it. This is 
 the last consequence of man's apostacy; it hath 
 brought the curse of God upon us. The great 
 Governor of the world " will not let sin go unpun- 
 ished." 
 
 And now, " what shall we say to these things ?" 
 You cannot deny the accusation. " The whole 
 world is guilty before God." You cannot dispute 
 the consequences. You must own, that you have 
 dishonoured God's government, and set yourself at 
 a deplorable distance from God and happiness, and 
 incurred his avowed wrath. 8ad state of a sinful 
 world ! Methiuks, in such a view of ourselves, 
 every heart should he struck with an awful sus- 
 pense, with a sacred dread about the issue. That 
 trembling anxiety, which seizes every breast, upon 
 occasion of some more solemn execution, when the 
 hand is now lifted up to strike the blow, should pos- 
 sess our souls. And yet I have another considera- 
 tion to add, when we meet again, which must abun- 
 dantly contribute to increase our apprehension. But 
 I shall dismiss you for the present, with this awak- 
 ening passage of Scripture, which you will find in 
 the sixth chapter of Genesis, which introduces 
 God's denunciation of vengeance upon the first 
 
54 
 
 world : — " God saw that the wickedness of man 
 was great in the earth, and that every imagination 
 of the thoughts of his heart was only evil continu- 
 ally. And it repented the Lord that he had made 
 man on the earth, and it grieved him at his heart. 
 And the Lord said, I will destroy man, whom I 
 have created, from the face of the earth ; for it re- 
 penteth me that I have made them." The appli- 
 cation is both easy to be made, and terrible to be 
 thought of. 
 
SERMON II. 
 
 THE HELPLESSNESS OF MAN. 
 Isaiah Ixiii. 5. 
 
 And I looked, and there was none to help ; and I wondered that 
 there was none to uphold. 
 
 No sooner had Adam sinned, than he felt the ter- 
 rible consequences which sin ever brings with it. — 
 Reflect a moment upon the circumstances he was in, 
 when now havinor transgressed the divine command- 
 ment, he " heard the voice of the Lord God walk- 
 ing in the garden." Conscience in alarm proclaimed 
 his guilt, and prevented the accusation, " Thou hast 
 eaten of the forbidden fruit." The curse sounded 
 in his ears, " In the day that thou eatest thereof, 
 thou shalt surely die." God was at hand to inflict 
 the vengeance. What should the wretch do^ He 
 dared not stand the once beloved countenance of 
 God. Nor did he reflect, how vain it was to think 
 of flying from his universal presence. Foolishly he 
 hid himself amongst the trees, till the voice of God 
 commanded him forth. Sin instantly begets an 
 abhorred issue in the soul, the confusion of guilt, 
 dislike of God, and a dread of vengeance — " Adam 
 was afraid, and hid himself." 
 
56 
 
 Our God "is a consuming fire," to sinners: sin 
 cannot endure his majesty. Sin, dishonourable to 
 God, and apprehensive of his avenging arm, doth 
 not hke his presence. Say thou, who hast weighed 
 the consequences of sin with any consideration, is it 
 a hght thing that thou hast dishonoured God, and 
 provoked his wrath upon thy head? Canst thou 
 well bear to think of him, who, strict in justice, and 
 almighty in power, is thy enemy and avenger ? Art 
 thou not ready to act over again the sad folly of 
 Adam; to hide thyself from God's presence; to 
 drown the too terrible reflection in care or pleasure, 
 till God call thee forth and will be attended to? It 
 is well if thou hearken to that voice, though the 
 sound of it be terrible to thy soul. Well wilt it 
 be with thee, if in this thy day thou lay to heart 
 the consequences of thine iniquities, while yet there 
 is hope; if, though with trembling and astonish- 
 ment, thou art made to feel the state of a sinner, 
 that most deplorable state of being a rebel, alienated 
 from all esteem of God and fitness for his glory, and 
 an heir of vengeance and rejection. Then, with an 
 interesting concern, thou wilt enter with me into this 
 farther inquiry, Whether thou canst remove these 
 consequences from thee; whether thou canst restore 
 the honour thou hast taken away from the Gover- 
 nor of the world, bring back thy soul to a creature- 
 like disposition, without which thou must remain in- 
 capable of tasting spiritual happiness, or averting 
 God's vengeance? 
 
 I must be allowed to tell you, you cannot. 
 
57 
 
 This was the secotid point. 
 
 And, upon this particular, I shall wish to drive 
 you to the distress of Jonah's mariners; having 
 raised a tempest about you, to leave you without 
 any other hopes of safety than by " casting forth 
 into the sea" your self-confidence. You may be 
 apt to look for security and salvation, and healing 
 the breach that sin hath made between God and 
 you, by labour and repentance, purely your own. 
 As the mariners did, you may be rowing hard to this 
 land to save yourselves, unwilling to throw your- 
 selves upon mercy as otherwise lost. But when 
 you shall not be able; when you shall find that you 
 cannot trust in any thing you can do, either to glo- 
 rify God, to recover purity of heart, or to satisfy his 
 justice; then with unwonted attention you shall con- 
 sider that mighty Redeemer, who is come to restore 
 the breach, and tenderly waits to hide, and cherish 
 you under the covering of his healing wings. 
 
 I say, therefore, that having been found guilty of 
 sin before the majesty of God, thereby you have 
 dishonoured him; in such a manner alienated your- 
 self from God, that you are unfit for his presence 
 and glory, and have entailed an eternal curse upon 
 you. But from these consequences you cannot res- 
 cue yourself. 
 
 I v/ould engage you to observe the connexion 
 there is between these consequences of sin. It is 
 notorious, that the rebellion of man's will and vv^ay 
 dishonours God as the Governor of the v/orld. This 
 rebellion hath destroyed all capacity of happiness in 
 the creature vvith the Creator, though in him only it 
 C 3 
 
58 
 
 is possible that a reasonable being can be blessed;: 
 while the glory of God, and the evil dispositions of 
 man's rebellious nature, lead directly to a state of 
 endless banishment from God's presence, and of 
 avowed and most required punishment. Till God 
 be glorified, till man be humbled, the separation be- 
 tween the Creator and creature remains; and the 
 issue^ on the one part and the other, must be man's 
 ruin for ever. God remaining dishonoured, and 
 man rebellious, the issue is enmity and death. If, 
 therefore, you would compose the difference sin hath 
 made between God and you, you must render back 
 all the glory of which you have deprived God, — you 
 must put on the disposition of a creature, — ^you must 
 satisfy the demands of infinite justice. See now 
 how incapable you are to effect either of these. 
 
 First, If you would remove the consequences of 
 sin from you, you must render back the glory to 
 God of which you have deprived him. 1 will sup- 
 pose you sensible, that, by your sins and rebellion, 
 you liave dishonoured God your Maker and Gover- 
 nor, and that you are willing to do all in your power 
 to render back that glory to him. I will suppose 
 you too, with the utmost purity of heart and integ- 
 rity of life, returned to your allegiance ; and that, 
 with such a simplicity in yourself, your constant ear- 
 nest endeavour is to promote God's glory in the 
 world, by all the influence you have upon others. 
 But now, even in this case, you will not advance a 
 step towards repairing the dishonour which your past 
 sins have brought upon God. For what by such a 
 conduct are you doing, more than your duty? or 
 
^9 
 
 was it not your duty to have been with God always, 
 as I suppose you now to be? It is true, by such an 
 humble demeanour you do not increase the debt of 
 dishonour you are charged with ; but then neither 
 do you lessen it. Doing now as you ought, you 
 leave the state of your former sins just as they were; 
 nor can you hereby remove one jot of that disgrace 
 which they have brought upon God's government. 
 Should subjects who had violently dethroned their 
 king, afterwards, upon better conscience, set him up 
 again; will any man say that such a monarch hath 
 suffered no disgrace? or that his restoration made 
 him ample amends? No, he should not be im- 
 peached of injustice, however he might be of want 
 of clemency, should he exercise his restored power 
 in the punishment of such rebels. Present obe- 
 dience, then, however perfect, would in nowise heal 
 the breaches which old rebellions have made upon 
 God's glory. But farther, 
 
 Having been undutiful yourself.^ have you not 
 also been the occasion of dishonouring God in the 
 persons of others? Your evil example, vain con- 
 versation, light and negligent carriage, have they not 
 hurt the glory of God, by the discountenance they 
 have put upon religion, and the encouragement they 
 have given to vice ? Now, who or where are they, 
 to whom you have been a snare in the days of your 
 wanton forgetfulness of your Maker? Alas! you 
 know them not. They are even all that ever were 
 acquainted with or saw you; at home, abroad, in all 
 companies, you were ignorantly patronizing the cause 
 of rebellion. At best, you can but recollect a it^t 
 
60 
 
 upon whom you have done the majesty of God 
 signal disgrace. Go then, bring these back: Des- 
 perate project ! Some of them are nowhere to be 
 found; some in distant parts of the earth; and others 
 departed, dead, it may be in their sins, having left 
 behind them a race of evil doers, and iniquity for 
 *' an inheritance to children's children." Thou canst 
 not but tremble at the thought. But at least re- 
 cover those to God who are still alive and with thee. 
 Entreat with them, by the glory of their God and 
 thine, by the eternal worth of their souls and thy 
 own: try upon them all the force of argument and 
 tears. Alas ! some would mock, some would de- 
 spise, and some would dissemble with thee. It 
 would be no small conquest, shouldst thou gain so 
 much as one. 
 
 Or consider yet again. Thou wast a living in- 
 fection ; thine acquaintance caught sin of thee, and 
 they conveyed it to others. Say, how far will the 
 plague even yet reach? When will it stop ? Or 
 what measures wilt thou take to prevent the conta- 
 gion from going still farther? The reflection is 
 enough to make every heart fail, while he thus evi- 
 dently sees the irreparable dishonour he hath brought 
 upon God. 
 
 Speak now, what hope hast thou of doing God 
 justice? Wilt thou venture thy soul upon it, that 
 thou hast made no breach upon the glory of God, 
 which thou hast not, or canst not sufficiently restore? 
 Wilt thou be bold to rest the cause of thy eternal 
 acceptance with God upon this plea? I will answer 
 for thee, that thou darest not meet the righteous 
 
61 
 
 God in judgment upon so lame a confidence. Al- 
 ready thou art crying for mercy: " The Lord pardon 
 thy servant in this thing." But how would thy cry 
 be increased, couldst thou see the dishonour which 
 sin does to the Majesty of heaven, as thcu wilt as- 
 suredly see it, when thou shalt stand with the as- 
 sembled world before the Judge of quick and dead ! 
 When thou shalt behold God magnificently glorify- 
 ing himself upon sinful men and devils, for the dis- 
 honour they have done him ! Couldst thou know 
 the hurt which thy sins have brought upon the 
 glory of God, as thou shalt then know it, how would 
 thy wounded soul cry out for mercy ! 
 
 Putting the matter now upon the most favourable 
 footing; supposing you absolutely and most entirely 
 returned to your allegiance, you see how it must fare 
 with you for the dishonour you have done God, how 
 incapable you would be of rendering back the glory 
 of which you had deprived him. 
 
 But can I make such a supposition concerning 
 you? Can I address you as a person returned to 
 God, as one framed again to the temper of a crea- 
 ture? 1 know not any power you have in yourself 
 to become thus : I know your utter detestation of, 
 and aversion to it. This leads to 
 
 The second thing which you have to get over, in 
 order to your settling the difference which sin hath 
 made between God and you: You must put on the 
 disposition of a creature; and this you cannot. Now, 
 having gained this point with you already, that sin 
 hath destroyed the image of God in your soul, by 
 
62 
 
 what was advanced in the former discourse, I shall 
 speak to you as a person convinced that he is set up 
 for himself and is at enmity with God: as to one 
 who hath found that he "likes not to retain God in 
 his knowledge," being turned away from him to 
 earthly and carnal things, in all the affections and 
 choice of his soul; and, who, consequently, is assured 
 of his entire incapacity to enjoy spiritual and eternal 
 happiness, till this sinful " law in his members" be 
 rooted out, and he be brought back to a perfect purity 
 of heart, and the true spirit of a creature. 
 
 I suppose you know all this. But you must be 
 told, that you had never been acquainted with it, 
 had not God declared it to you. Now that you have 
 been informed of the nature of God and happiness, 
 and have been made to see the waste which sin hath 
 made upon your soul, you can discover the consis- 
 tency of this reasoning, and the need you have of 
 being renewed in the spirit of your mind. But had 
 you been left to yourself, you had perhaps never 
 thought of it, would not once have suspected the evil 
 state you find yourself to be in; possibly, would 
 have known nothing of God at all, no not so much 
 as that there is any such being; or, at best, have sat 
 down with very confused notions of his perfections. 
 And I leave yourself to determine, how, in such cir- 
 cumstances, you must have remained altogether ex- 
 cluded from all possibility of recovering the spirit of 
 a creature. You are indebted therefore to a foreign 
 help, even for this knowledge of God, yourself, and 
 the nature of a reasonable happiness. 
 
 However, supposing you well informed of your 
 
63 
 
 condition, and of the need you lie under to frame 
 your heart again to the temper of a creature and a 
 dependant; how will you effect this change upon 
 yourself? 
 
 The word of God is plainly against you in this 
 matter : " You cannot turn and prepare yourself by 
 your own natural strength," Article x. Hear what 
 it says : — " The flesh is weak. The flesh lusteth 
 against the spirit. The carnal mind is enmity 
 against God, and is not subject to the law of God, 
 neither indeed can be. And they that are in the 
 flesh cannot please God." So far from any such 
 power of turning to God, that '' we are not suffi- 
 cient, of ourselves, to think any thing as of our- 
 selves ;" and that, because the " imaginations of 
 man's thoughts are only evil continually." And 
 will you imagine that you are able to subdue the 
 power which sin hath over your soul, and to acquire 
 a purity of heart which will make you every way fit 
 to see God, when he tells you so expressly, that you 
 are insufficient for the very least part of it, so much 
 as to desire or even to think of it ? 
 
 Or if God's declarations do not convince you, at 
 least let your own observations persuade you. Have 
 you ever known or heard of so much as one in all 
 past ages, that returned to his duty with a complete 
 victory over his evil dispositions which war within 
 him ? Hath there been one such righteous person] 
 in the whole world so, much as one? Where is that 
 man that liveth and sinneth not? Just the con- 
 trary; sin hatli been ever the complaint of the good, 
 and the practice of the bad. And have there been 
 
64. 
 
 none, think you, at all times ; do you not verily judge 
 there are many, in the reach of your knowledge, who 
 would be rid of sin, and put on the disposition of 
 creatures, if they could? But none have been able. 
 Or, finally, if you will obstinately contend that 
 you are able ; that you can at your pleasure extir- 
 pate the pride, worldiiness and lust, that now dwell 
 in you, leaving not any traces of them in your heart; 
 that you can raise your soul to a perfect spiritual 
 purity, and stand in God's sight, clean and holy as 
 the angels of his presence: if you will needs cherish 
 this fond opinion of your sufficiency; try your 
 strength, you have no other concern v/hich equals 
 the importance of this to you, to have a new heart 
 and a right spirit. Go, root out of your soul the 
 lusting you find there after indulgence and ease, that 
 you may be no more assaulted with vicious thoughts; 
 rid yourself of all worldly influences that at present 
 svvay you ; even of all the undue regard your heart 
 pays to interest and honour, ta men's opinion and 
 favour. Bring down the pride and desire of self- 
 pleasing, which have possessed themselves of you, 
 giving direction to all your conduct; and, together 
 with them, banish for ever the troop of their atten- 
 dants, unbelief, wilfulness, impatience, murmuring, 
 aversion towards God: boasting, malice, envy, hatred, 
 haughtiness, stubbornness, anger, resentment, peev- 
 ishness towards men. Let neither pride, nor any of 
 these its ugly issue and odious train, ever more ap- 
 pear in your mind: and then put on the love of God 
 in your whole heart, and of man even as of your- 
 self. To mention no more, try your strength upon 
 
65 
 
 these: experience will soon tell you, if the very sight 
 of your difficult undertaking hath not prevailed, that 
 you are not sufficient for these things. By and by, 
 you will join the universal cry of man impotent to 
 good: " Miserable creature that I am, who shall de- 
 liver me ?" 
 
 Thus you may be assured that you are unable to 
 frame your heart again to the temper of a creature. 
 And yet, if this be not done, you must remain unfit 
 for God, and incapable of happiness. Miserable 
 creature, indeed ! Sorely beset with evils ! A dis- 
 honourer of God, and incapable of rendering back 
 his injured glory ! An alien from him, in whose 
 presence is life, through the defilement of thy soul; 
 and yet unable to recover that purity which can alone 
 make thee meet for his presence, were he disposed 
 to remit to thee all the demands which his forfeited 
 honour hath upon thee! — Miserable man! what 
 will the end of these things be? Almost I know 
 not how to aggravate thy misery any more. What 
 v/ill the end of these things be? Thou dishonourer 
 of God, thou slave of sin, how wilt thou escape the 
 wrath to come ? How avert that punishment which 
 the glory of the heavenly Majesty is concerned to 
 inflict; a state which the perverse wickedness of thy 
 heart makes thee only fit for? Both the one and 
 the other, the dishonour done by thee to God, and 
 the unfitness of thy soul for his presence, alarm thee 
 with apprehensions of an everlasting condition of 
 misery, under the divine displeasure. And now, 
 therefore, I add, 
 
66 
 
 Thirdly, If you will heal the breach made by 
 your sins between God and you, you must satisfy 
 the demands of his infinite justice ; but this you 
 cannot any other way, than by enduring his ven- 
 geance. You know how express and absolute God's 
 justice is ; it claims the last mite, either in obedi- 
 ence or punishment: — " Cursed is he that con- 
 firmeth not all the words of this law, to do them/* 
 The irreversible decree of God through the uni- 
 verse is, " The wages of sin is death." In con- 
 sequence of this immoveable purpose of the Al- 
 mighty, angels have been " cast down to hell, and 
 delivered into chains of darkness, to be reserved 
 unto judgment." Sinners, and authors of sin as 
 they are, they are unable now for ever to render 
 back to God the glory they have despoiled him of; 
 ever unable to regain the angelic purity of nature 
 they have forfeited, they remain for ever the objects 
 of vengeance, and are set forth for an example of 
 justice. And tell me, my brother, thou and I 
 have stricken hands with sin ; wherewithal shall we 
 satisfy justice, and avert a like suffering of ven- 
 geance ? We have sinned, we have done wicked- 
 ly; and we cannot undo what we have done. Our 
 sins that we have committed stand fast for ever, 
 and for ever are the objects of that infinite justice 
 and wrath, which doth not let sin go unpunished. 
 We cannot avoid justice, because we cannot recall 
 our days, and undo the sin that we have done. 
 What thinkest thou — didst thou not forget God, 
 and set up to please thyself? This thou ownest. 
 But may not what is now said of thee, be equally 
 
67 
 
 alleged against thee ten thousand ages hence, that 
 thou didst sin against God, by this very forgetful- 
 ness and apostacy from him ? That God created 
 the heavens and the earth, is as true now, and will 
 be so eternally, as it was on that glorious moment 
 when " God spake the word, and they were made," 
 when " he commanded, and they were created." 
 Just so of thy sins ; now, and eternally, they lie 
 against thee, and evermore call for justice and ven- 
 geance. One of these two things remains, either 
 to undo what thou hast done, or to fall under the 
 hand of justice. And since thou canst not attempt 
 the one, be assured the other waits for thee. 
 
 Nay, but for any thing thou canst do to the con- 
 trary, thou wilt always continue sinful; and there- 
 fore, not for thy past only, but for thy present 
 iniquity, thou must be for ever the immediate ob- 
 ject of justice and wrath. The smfulness of Satan 
 this moment, as much challenges the justice and 
 indignation of God, as did his first war in heaven, 
 when his place was not found any more there ; and 
 as long as he remains the evil spirit he is, which he 
 will do for ever, the like continuation of justice and 
 displeasure shall light upon him, as a present, as 
 well as an old apostate. 
 
 See now the issue of the whole. God is ready 
 to do himself justice upon you, and to vindicate his 
 glory, in your eternal punishment. While you al- 
 so, now and eternally unable to quit your sinful- 
 ness, are eternally unfit for his presence, and will 
 eternally remain the object of his immediate justice 
 and vengeance. 
 
68 
 
 Say, then, vain man, where are thy hopes sunk ? 
 What is become of that confident boasthig ? which 
 way canst thou save thyself? For ought thou 
 canst do, thou hast no other expectation but "judg- 
 ment, and fiery indignation," Would God thou 
 wert well aware of this thy deplorable, helpless 
 state ! Then I should bring to thee glad tidings 
 indeed, in the offers of mercy obtained for, and 
 proposed to thee, in Jesus Christ, our only Lord 
 and Saviour, 
 
 And truly, as we are never so near glory and 
 immortality, as when we are struggling with death, 
 and sorely beset in the dark and melancholy passage 
 of a departing hour ; so it is an awful and importu- 
 nate concern about the consequences of sin, which 
 leads a man to the gate of mercy. And you may 
 be sure you are never so near salvation, as when, 
 through the grace of God, finding yourself lost and 
 undone, you are well disposed to throw yourself 
 upon mercy, 
 
 I must entreat, therefore, if you will be profited 
 by the message of peace I have next to offer, that 
 you will be at pains with yourself upon all the for- 
 mer particulars. Inquire into the reality of your 
 sinfulness ; and weigh attentively the consequences 
 of sin, and cast in your mind how unable you are 
 to rescue yourself out of them. All this, let con- 
 science and reason speak; for I trust you have heard 
 nothing which is not as consistent with reason as it 
 is with Scripture, 
 
 And now I will draw this one conclusion, which 
 I wish you to be deeply convinced of, from all that 
 
69 
 
 hath been advanced ; namely, that " sin is your 
 greatest enemy." The consideration of which, 
 possibly, may help you to greater seriousness in the 
 inquiry I am recommending. For whilst I remark 
 these three points, as evidently arising out of the 
 subject, that sin (by which I would principally be 
 understood to mean, man's erecting his will for his 
 guide, instead of God's sovereign pleasure; this 
 being truly the root of all other sin, and that which 
 carries the highest measure of guilt in it,) dishon- 
 ours God, as the excellent Governor of the world 
 — defiles the soul of man — and brings misery with 
 and after it; — I shall hope that you will be led 
 m-ore solemnly to consider the consequences of sin, 
 and the concern you have in them ; and also that 
 you are grown displeased and tired with it, and 
 heartily willing to be rid of such a monster and 
 enemy. 
 
 Sin is your greatest enemy. 
 1 . Sin dishonours God, as the Governor of the 
 world. We speak not of the glory which God 
 hath in himself; of that essential honour which he 
 possesses, as a most mighty, all-perfect, eternal, 
 and independent Being ; but we speak of the ma- 
 nifestation of this most respectable glory of the 
 Godhead, through the submission of his creatures. 
 When God is obeyed, and his will meets with no 
 opposition or backwardness in the soul, but the 
 creature flies with joy, to execute the Almighty 
 command, knowing no other desire, nor wishing 
 any other happiness, than this service of the Most 
 High; when a race of beings, whom God hath 
 
70 
 
 made, do thus wait upon his sovereign will with 
 one universal, uninterrupted readiness of obedience, 
 — then God is known among them to be what he is; 
 then the Creator is glorified, and the creature is 
 blessed. But when sin comes in, this beautiful 
 and lovely order is disturbed. The things formed 
 forget their station, will not, do not any more obey; 
 they slight their Maker, and pass on with an inso- 
 lent disregard of the divine will, to act as they 
 please, and God in the mean time loses his domi- 
 nion. The glory which should accrue to him, from 
 the obedience of his works, is gone ; and, instead 
 of one universal monarch, there are as many as 
 there are of creatures, so many self-worshipping 
 idols are set up in his place. Then confusion fol- 
 lows, and every evil work. Every one making his 
 own will his God, will bear no control. And 
 while from hence, envyings and resentments, and 
 hatred and violence, grow and spread, the honour 
 of God is deeply wounded, and his government suf- 
 fers damage, even to desolation. In such circum^- 
 stances, the glory of God is like the sun in the 
 night : it shines, indeed, with its proper and es- 
 sential brightness ; but then it is not seen ; the 
 face of the world is turned away from it. Though 
 God ruleth the earth, his dominion is covered and 
 unseen, through the darkness which sin hath brought 
 upon it. And, I beseech you, how horrid a thing, 
 that the creature, the subject, the dependant, should 
 thus rob God of his glory ! that the Maker should 
 be rejected and disowned, by those very " works 
 which his hands have made," and which he fails 
 
71 
 
 not to preserve and bless ! Great God ! thou 
 seestit; daily thou beholdest this ungodliness, and 
 considerest the wrong we are doing thy awful Ma- 
 jesty ! thou seest thyself slighted, thy dread com- 
 mand unnoticed and disobeyed, thy glorious name 
 forgotten ! Almighty King ! we are ashamed, 
 yea, even distressed, for the disgrace which is 
 brought upon thy glory. The remembrance of 
 our rebellions pam us. O ! when shall we be rid 
 of this sin, the " enemy that hath done thee this 
 dishonour !" 
 
 2. Sin defiles the soul of man. Was it not a 
 desirable state, that of innocence and purity ? Was 
 not the soul of man a lovely being, when it was 
 stored with those tempers which can alone endear it 
 to its Creator ? While humility, without the 
 least motion to pride; trust, void of all fear; obe- 
 dience, without the most secret murmuring; love, 
 entire and unalloyed ; while holiness, righteousness, 
 truth, and goodness ; while quietness and peace, all 
 of them dwelt there together; while the soul of man 
 was thus divinely arrayed, was it not lovely? Were 
 we not glorious within ? But sin hath effaced it all, 
 scarcely left any ruins of so glorious a fabric. Sin 
 hath made us proud and unbelieving, disobedient and 
 unloving; hath stamped us with the likeness of the 
 prince of darkness ; hath drawn upon our souls too 
 near a resemblance of his envy and hatred, his bit- 
 terness, and malice, and revenge; hath turned us 
 after earthly loves, and brutal joy, with the whole 
 bent of our inclinations. Sin hath done us this ir- 
 reparable hurt; hath ruined what we were, and made 
 
72 
 
 us what we are — earthly, sensual, devilish, averse from 
 God, unfit for him and happiness: all that is within 
 us, since sin entered, proclaims the melancholy truth. 
 Our souls were as the " garden of Eden" before it; 
 and lo, it hath left us " a desolate wilderness." And 
 what ! shall we stand upon any terras of friendship 
 with such an enemy? Though it look pleasing, and 
 flatter, and smile upon us, and would betray us Vv^ith 
 kisses, shall we not hate the traitor, and hold it off 
 with abhorrence, as the very bane of our souls ? 
 
 3. Sin brings misery with, and after it. You 
 have heard how God threatens; you may feel, if you 
 will, how he now punishes it. Consider, I pray you, 
 if sin hath not cursed the ground under us, and 
 turned the heavens, one while into brass, and an- 
 other into a deluge over our heads; if it hath not 
 armed the sky with thunder, and the bowels of the 
 earth with convulsions; if it hath not destroyed all 
 joy, and .chased happiness out of the world ; if it 
 hath not brought on us vexation and sickness, and 
 crosses and care, making us very slaves to keep our- 
 selves alive, and then consigning this lordly body of 
 ours to the worms and dust. I speak not of un- 
 known things: I speak what we feel and struggle 
 with, till w^e can hold life no longer, and depart to 
 the '' place appointed for all living." But after 
 death comes the misery indeed, known now only in 
 apprehension, but so felt even in the expectation, as 
 to make all present woe of no account, when com- 
 pared with it. Launch your thoughts into eternal 
 misery, and you shall think of man's momentary 
 wretchedness, with that littleness of apprehension 
 
73 
 
 wherewith -a person sailing upon the vast ocean re- 
 flects upon the river, which appeared great while he 
 was passing out of it. And what is there that can 
 be called misery, which you do not see before you, 
 as the eternal issue and wages of sin? To think of 
 the body's dwelling in flames! Should you be in- 
 vited, by strange curiosity, to see a criminal burnt at 
 the stake, your soul would be moved within you, 
 though a few minutes would put an end to his tor- 
 tures. But should you see him burning, and not yet 
 dead, after a whole day; and should that day be 
 lengthened to a week, a month, a year, to a thousand 
 ages, to forever! Intolerable even to think of it; 
 how then to behold it? but how most intolerable to 
 suffer it ! And this but the half, perhaps but the 
 lesser half of man's eternal misery ! For to think 
 of the sufferings of the soul, consummate in all 
 wickedness to the fullest measure, desperately hating 
 God, and yet lying instantly under the frowns of his 
 irreconcilably enraged majesty; how shall conscience 
 sting it, rage gnaw it, and revenge consume it! 
 How shall hopeless grief, impotent malice, and utter 
 despair, burst forth into strange complainings, dis- 
 tressing groans, woful curses, and blasphemous in- 
 sults, the language of hell; making the voice of the 
 damned terrible, and filling their dark chambers with 
 horror ! And all this with tormenting devils, the 
 outcasts of heaven, wreaking their insatiable malice 
 upon them ! O what a society, place, punishment, 
 is here ! And yet all this *' the wages of sin." 
 See then, what an enemy this sin is to us, here and 
 forever ! 
 
 D 19 
 
74 
 
 To conclude, I shall hope that such reflections 
 upon the dishonour sin doth to God, upon the de- 
 filement it brings upon the soul, and the misery 
 which comes with and after it, may, by the divine 
 grace, engage your heart to some dislike of it: so 
 that while you are searching after this most impor- 
 tant concern, the reahty, the consequences of your 
 sins, and your insufficiency to succour yourself, you 
 may be disengaged from that bias, which the con- 
 venience of sin and self-flattery are too apt to give 
 to the soul ; and, in the issue, may find yourself as 
 earnest to be rid of sin, as from the deplorable events 
 it hath produced. Thus disposed, you will be ready 
 to hear the good news of salvation, in the ability and 
 willingness the Redeemer hath to help you; and 
 will discover a becoming forwardness in laying hold 
 of his most gracious offers. May God both prevent 
 and assist you herein, for the sake of the same Jesus 
 Christ our Lord and Saviour! 
 
SERMON III. 
 
 THE POWER AND LOVE OF CHRIST. 
 
 Isaiah Ixiii. 5. 
 
 Therefore mine own arm brought salvation unto me. 
 
 When a numerous host of angels declared the ap- 
 pearance of our Redeemer, their song was " Glory 
 to God in the highest, and on earth peace, good-will 
 towards men." But what songs are those which 
 we send forth upon the remembrance of that glorious 
 manifestation? What suitable rejoicing do we show 
 at this season.* Is the voice heard among us of 
 those who rejoice for hell shut and heaven opened, 
 for peace and glory promulged to a lost world? The 
 days now before us were separated by the piety of 
 our ancestors for holy joy; were separated that, with 
 humble thankful hearts, we might give ourselves up 
 to mutual congratulation, to speak one to another of 
 the great things which the Redeemer hath done. 
 But to think, how the approaching holy-days will 
 be spent in this land ; how the body of this people, 
 
 * The substance of this Sermon was preached the Sunday be- 
 fore Christmas-day. 
 
 D 2 
 
76 
 
 as it were set loose and casting off all restraint, are 
 going with a determined resoluteness into all man- 
 ner of debauchery and riot, as if a license to sin upon 
 this occasion had been issued from heaven; how doth 
 it pierce every faithful heart with sorrow, and cover 
 the loyal countenance with sadness ! My brethren, 
 what little spot will be undefiled? What corner of 
 the land where God will not be peculiarly disho- 
 noured, Christ trampled upon with a more than 
 double portion of insolence, and vice wallow in mad 
 lawlessness? Horrid expectation! But shall not 
 xve escape? Shall I not hope, that this seasonable 
 word will check the sallies of intemperate mirth 
 among j/m/; and direct your joy into a better chan- 
 nel than that of drunken carousals and abused feasts? 
 Your hearts must be hard and savage, if what you 
 have heard already, and what is now to be advanced, 
 do not gain so much as this with you, to be sober 
 and considerate a few days. But to come nearer 
 to the subject: If I have thus far prevailed; if con- 
 science pronounces you guilty; and, from a deliber- 
 ate attention to the consequences of sin, vengeance 
 dismays you as a dishonourer of God's universal go- 
 vernment, and as defiled and unfit for his presence, 
 having found that no other way remains on your part 
 to glorify God, than by the eternal suffering of his 
 just indignation; and also that your rebellious spirit 
 hath taken to it such dark and malignant dispositions^ 
 as, when filled to the full measure, (which they 
 would necessarily grow up to, for any inclination or 
 power you have to restrain them,) would leave you 
 only a meet companion for the accursed outcasts of 
 
77 
 
 heaven: if, with a fair inquiry, being just to your 
 eternal interests, you have weighed what hath been 
 before said, and are wondering at the immensity of 
 ruin which sin hath introduced, surprised too with 
 the conviction of your own helplessness ; my doc- 
 trine shall drop upon you as the rain on a parched 
 ground, " my speech shall distil as the dew, as the 
 small rain upon the tender herb, and as the showers 
 upon the grass, when I publish the name of the 
 Lord" the rock of salvation, whose work is perfect. 
 Upon a supposed conviction, now wrought in you, 
 of your sinfulness, of the consequences of sin, and of 
 your utter inability to remove them, I proceed to the 
 
 Third general proposition : 
 
 Christ is able to succour you, having taken away 
 all those fearful circumstances, which were seen to 
 be the result of sin : and, withal, he is mlling to do 
 so. 
 
 First, He is able to succour you: for he hath 
 fully vindicated and restored God's injured glory. 
 
 Secondly, He hath obtained power to renew the 
 hearts of men to their original purity. 
 
 Thirdly, He hath satisfied the demands of divine 
 justice; and all this by his obedience, even unto 
 death. 
 
 First, but you are ready to say, Who is he that 
 is sufficient for these things? Who is the person 
 so dignified, as by his single might to set out the 
 glory of God upon earth in its native grandeur and 
 splendour; by his own meritorious doings, to bring 
 all that honour to the divine government, which it 
 
78 
 
 would have received from the universal obedience, 
 loyalty, and submission of the whole race of man- 
 kind ? What is his rank, that he should have power 
 to prevail with God to return, and creating anew the 
 souls of men, again to communicate himself to them? 
 Who is that wondrous one, that could undergo the 
 vengeance and the punishment which the sins of men 
 deserved, and amply satisfy the strict demands of 
 justice? Who is he, thus mighty to save? SuflPer 
 me, ye highest angels and archangels, ye cherubim 
 and seraphim; ye can only be his attendants. Your 
 kindest endeavours had left us without hope. You 
 presume only to stand at a distance, and adore the 
 counsels of divine wisdom ; while admiration over- 
 spreads you, and your spirits cry with solemn senti- 
 ment, " How deep thy knowledge and wisdom, O 
 God ! How unsearchable thy judgments ! How 
 past finding out thy ways 1" 
 
 " The Son of God was manifested that he might 
 destroy the works of the devil;" that is, to restore 
 that original state which sin had overturned, to eiFect 
 a reconcihation between the Creator and the creature, 
 wherein the majesty and justice of God should re- 
 main unhurt, and man, brought to obedience and 
 submission, should live. " God was manifest in the 
 flesh," upon this important reconciliation. The 
 word, which was in the beginning with God, and 
 was God, by whom " all things were made, and 
 without whom was not any thing made that was made, 
 was made flesh, and dwelt among us." In that flesh 
 which he had assumed, now God and man myste- 
 riously united, he was amply qualified to restore that 
 
79 
 
 glory to God upon earth, of which sin had spoiled 
 him ; to quicken the souls c>f men sunk under the 
 dominion of sin, and to bear the utmost inflictions of 
 justice. And to these ends, in that flesh, he suffered 
 death upon the cross. 
 
 Consider him not now, as a man merely of your 
 own nature, but as a man of the same nature with 
 you, united to the Deity. The man thus dignified, 
 free from all spot of sin, gave himself a willing vic- 
 tim to the divine glory, was made a spectacle to 
 angels and men, was lifted up to shame, and resigned 
 his breath upon a tree; and this, with every circum- 
 stance of reproach which could possibly make sin 
 appear infamous, and put it to shame. And what 
 infamy or shame could sin be brought to in the face 
 of the world, equal with the sacrificing of the only 
 innocent man that was ever born, and this man also 
 avowed to be the Son of God, wherever his name 
 should be heard, and that by a death most vile and 
 slave-like? Surely herein sin suffered disgrace in- 
 deed; and "the glory of God's government was 
 fully vindicated." As in human constitutions, when 
 shaken by the insolence of rebellion, the execution 
 of some capital rebel recovers the majesty and firm- 
 ness of government, and makes rebellion shrink in 
 the utmost corners of the land ; so much more, in 
 the offering up. of Christ upon the cross, tlie honour 
 of God's government is re-established, and, by reason 
 of the innocence and dignity of the sacrifice, all the 
 disgrace which man's sin and rebellion had brought 
 upon it is wiped away. Possibly the evidence of 
 this may not be so striking, bui to enlightened and 
 
80 
 
 humbled minds, at present; however, when the day 
 of recompense shall be revealed, and every eye shall 
 see the once despised Jesus, decked with majesty, 
 and adorned with resplendent glory, sitting upon his 
 throne to determine the everlasting condition of men, 
 it will be impossible to question, that by the death 
 of such a one, glory hath been given to " God in 
 the highest." 
 
 Secondly^ He hath obtained power to renew the 
 hearts of men to their original purity. God and 
 man, since sin entered into the world, were at vari- 
 ance; and, like persons after differences, each of 
 them keeps at distance from the other. God with- 
 holds himself from man, and will have no converse 
 with him, till satisfaction be made for the dishonour 
 sin hath done his majesty: man is helpless and also 
 stubborn, neither able nor willing to renew com- 
 munion with his Maker, although herein alone he 
 can be happy. So that all communion is cut off 
 between God and his creature. But now this great 
 Reconciler, having vindicated and restored God's 
 honour, hath prevailed with God to revisit, and dwell 
 with the souls of men : and having purchased the 
 Holy Ghost, by the kindly influences thereof can 
 soften and prepare the hearts of men to receive him. 
 For such was the merit of Christ's sacrifice, that 
 while it restored glory to God, it again opened the 
 communication between God and the spirits of men; 
 that is, it obtained the gift of the Holy Ghost for 
 the sanctifying men's hearts and lives, and so recover- 
 ing them to a fitness for God. It pleased the Fa- 
 ther, that in this Man should all fulness dwell; yea, 
 
81 
 
 " all the fulness of the Godhead bodily." He was, 
 and is, " full of the Holy Ghost." " And having 
 received of the Father the promise of the Holy 
 Ghost," he is able to shed it abroad in men's hearts, 
 even that " living waters shall flow out of their bel- 
 lies." He is made the channel, through whom the 
 supply of the Spirit comes to us; and that grace so 
 derived unto us, is able to cleanse and purify our 
 hearts; even as the same Holy Spirit, of whom he 
 was conceived, kept him in all respects a man like 
 ourselves, free from all spot of sin. We are of our- 
 selves insufficient to all good ; but the Spirit, which 
 dwelleth in him, and which by purchase he hath a 
 right to bestow, can quicken our dead souls, furnish 
 us with strength against all our enemies, mortify our 
 rebellious pride, earthly desires, and carnal lustings, 
 and restore us again to the perfect image of God. 
 He sitteth over men as a refiner and purifier of sil- 
 ver, to breathe upon their hearts with his Spirit, and 
 to kindle a fire within them, purging them as gold 
 and silver, that their souls may be offered unto the 
 Lord an offering in righteousness. And the grace 
 which he gives must needs be sufficient to all the 
 purposes of our soul's recovery; since " God worketh 
 in us both to will and to do," even that " Holy 
 Ghost which is shed on us abundantly, through 
 Jesus Christ our Lord." 
 
 Whereas then we are naturally without any 
 spiritual strength, bowed down under sin, and un- 
 able to lift up ourselves, this Jesus is able to quicken 
 and put life into us, furnishing us with the supply 
 of the sanctifying Spirit, out of the fulness thereof, 
 D 3 
 
8£ 
 
 which abideth in him. He is between God and us, 
 to convey to us the Spirit, at his sole disposal : that 
 as from Adam a sinful and corrupted nature is de- 
 rived unto us; so Christ should be the second head, 
 for communicating a contrary and divine principle 
 of grace and holiness. Here a way is opened both 
 for communion between God and man, and for 
 purging our hearts, that they may be fit habitations 
 for God's presence. And the one and the other of 
 these is owing to the merit of his atonement; which 
 at once vindicating God's honour, removed the bar 
 to reconcihation on God's part; and purchasing the 
 gift of the Spirit for man, might make him both 
 able and willing to come in and accept of the recon- 
 ciliation, by putting on a creature^like and obedient 
 spirit. And, 
 
 Thirdly^ By the same sacrifice, he liath satisfied 
 all the demands of divine justice. The justice of 
 God will be allowed to proceed upon principles of 
 unerring propriety and rectitude ; whereby, as he 
 will not suffer sin against his majesty and govern- 
 ment to be unpunished, but will correct it in a way 
 suitable to his own dignity, to the nature of the 
 crime, and to the ends of his dominion ; so, when 
 this hath been done, he will be satisfied, will become 
 gracious, and remit his indignation. Now, when 
 we consider the person who gave himself a sacrifice 
 to the divine vengeance, we shall find, that in his 
 death sin hath been so fully punished, that all the 
 ends of punishment are answered. Wherefore, even 
 God's justice will hinder his demanding any more; 
 whilst also it either could not, or would not be satis- 
 
fied with less. The prophet Zechariah, speaking 
 of this sacrifice, had said : '^ Awake, O sword, 
 against my shepherd, and against the man that is 
 my fellow, saith the Lord of Hosts : smite the 
 shepherd, and the sheep shall be scattered." The 
 application, which our Lord makes of the latter 
 clause in this passage, convinces us that the former 
 is spoken of himself and his sacrifice. Against 
 whom then did the sword of the Lord of Hosts 
 awake in veno-eance ? Afyainst a man, " forasmuch 
 as the children are partakers of flesh and blood, him- 
 self likewise took part of the same, yet without sin." 
 A man, that is God's fellow, in the beginning with 
 God, and God one with the Father. Against this 
 God-man, the shepherd, God drew out the sword; 
 he " kid down his life for the sheep;" he " was 
 made a sin-offering for us.'^ And in the sacrifice 
 of such a one, what vengeance did sin deserve, 
 which it did not suffer? What did justice demand, 
 which was not paid ? What correction of iniquity 
 was needful to make God's government respectable, 
 and to deter from violating it, and not amply exe- 
 cuted? " Search the Scriptures;" there you see 
 abundantly, that the sacrifice of this " Lamb taketh 
 away the sin of the world ;" that God accepteth it 
 as a propitiation, an offering to him *' of a sweet- 
 smelUng savour;" in consequence hereof, that 
 " Christ hath the keys of death and hell;" and 
 that " all power in heaven and earth is given to 
 him." True then it is that " sin shall not be un- 
 punished;" that the wages of it is death; that " the 
 wrath of God is revealed from heaven against it," 
 
84 
 
 All this is the certain, the unchangeable decree of 
 the Almighty ; nor shall one tittle of it fail. But 
 behold the garden and the cross; consider well the 
 agony, and the execution ; remember whose cries 
 you hear, and who it is that expires; and then say, 
 if sin hath not been punished, if death hath not been 
 endured, if the cup of wrath hath not been drank 
 even to the very dregs, if all is not finished. For 
 he was not only a man, whose sufferings were full of 
 bitterness, and pain, and reproach ; though this 
 were pitiable : not barely one he was, who was in- 
 nocent of the crimes for which he suffered ; though 
 this might justly double our compassion : but he 
 was a man, pure in heart and life, as Adam in the 
 moment of creation ; he was also one personally 
 united to the Eternal Word. Thus innocent, thus 
 dignified, " he bore our griefs and carried our sor- 
 rows ; was stricken, smitten of God, and afflicted ; 
 was wounded for our transgressions, and bruised 
 for our iniquities ; his soul was made an offering for 
 sin." It was his union with the divine Word, 
 which enabled him to endure all the load of wrath 
 which sin had provoked : it was this, which made 
 that endurance a sufficient satisfaction. Thus united, 
 God could neither demand, nor we deserve more of 
 vengeance, than he could pay. Thus united, he 
 was capable of suffering; and this suffering was to 
 the full satisfaction of divine justice : " Wherefore 
 also he is able to save sinners to the uttermost." 
 
 Say now, upon these views, what power hath not 
 Christ to save ? He hath salvation to bestow : for 
 in his death all the consequences of sin are done 
 
85 
 
 away. This vindicates God's glory, opens a way 
 to communion with God, and sanctification of our 
 hearts through the Spirit, and averts the fearful 
 curse of God's wrath. He is able to succour us. 
 And he is willing to impart to us all the benefits of 
 this valuable purchase. 
 
 But stop, thou sinful man, and consider the value 
 of thy soul. He who " beholdeth the things which 
 are not, as if they were;" who comprehendeth eter- 
 nity, and takes it up at a thought ; who hath fixed 
 the depth of hell and the height of heaven, and 
 measures in his mind the misery of the one and the 
 happiness of the other; who, knowing the exact 
 worth of this world and the next, hath sent his only 
 begotten Son to rescue thee from destruction, and 
 to refit thy ruinous soul for glory : what dost thou 
 read of the value of thy soul in this his dealing ? 
 Were a prophet or an angel sent to thee on an ex- 
 press message from God with a miracle in his hand; 
 did a well-known friend come to thee from the dead; 
 it would bear no equal conviction witli it, could 
 awaken no such solemn impression, as the conde- 
 scension of the Eternal Word to take upon him thy 
 nature, and therein to make atonement, is suited to 
 do. " Hast thou understood these things?" Hast 
 thou learnt the importance of thy soul, whilst thou 
 hast been considering " the holy One of God" ma- 
 nifested to render glory to God, to raise thy defiled 
 nature to holiness, and to redeem thee from the 
 curse? Hast thou been searching after the various 
 steps of this adorable mystery with a trembling con- 
 cern ? and hast thou felt a glad and satisfying joy 
 
86 
 
 and consolation springing up within thee, and grow- 
 ing more quick and lively, as the mystery hath been 
 unfolding, and conviction of the Redeemer's power 
 to save and succour thee, hath grown stronger and 
 clearer upon thy heart ? It is well : such as these 
 are the anxious distresses of the self-condemned 
 soul; such the awful importunity with which it 
 waits upon the rising of " the Sun of righteousness." 
 As this light advances, the soul enlarges its pros- 
 pect, pierces upward to God, and forward to eter- 
 nity, and downward to hell; extends its view 
 abroad upon the miserable state of man, inti- 
 mately considers itself, and is mightily engaged 
 in the cause of its eternal interests. For the sacri- 
 fice of Christ is so instructive every way; it so warns 
 us of the horrid guilt and danger of sin, of the ex- 
 cellence of eternal glory, and of the terrors of God's 
 wrath, and withal of our own weakness and insuffi- 
 ciency; that whoever attends to it with personal ap- 
 plication, shall assuredly find the value of his soul, 
 and insensibly fall into that awakened frame of con- 
 cern which the apostle so strongly expresses, when 
 he bids us " work out our salvation with fear and 
 trembling." 
 
 Say now, have you thus weighed the sacrifice of 
 Christ ? Hath it taught you either to tremble 
 under the vast importance of your salvation, or to 
 rejoice in the assured ability of the Redeemer to 
 save you ? Hear then yet farther. 
 
 Secondly^ He is xvillmg to make you partaker of 
 all these fruits of his sacrifice. A full hand avails 
 nothing to the relief of the necessitous, unless the 
 
87 
 
 possessor be also of a bountiful disposition. But 
 the heart of our Redeemer is enlarged as his hand 
 is plenteous. He is as willing to save, as he is 
 able. Nor shall I need to set about any long illus- 
 tration of thatj which wants observation more than 
 evidence. That Christ is willing you should reap 
 the fruits of his sacrifice, requires little proof, but 
 much persuasion upon the mind. And here, let 
 all his condescensions and his love confirm you, how 
 ready, how pleased he would be to save you, to give 
 you the peace he hath purchased, the grace he hath 
 to bestow, and the glory he is in possession of. 
 Should a man forego his ease and quiet, go through 
 toil and labour, endure all diflSculties, and run the 
 risk of his life to promote your welfare, you would 
 be left without all doubt of his readiness to serve 
 you. And did the Son of God freely leave the 
 bosom of his Father, and clothe himself with your 
 flesh; did he submit to the cradle and the manger, 
 to poverty and persecution, to a life of labour, and 
 a death of shame ? Did he deserve nothing of all 
 which he underwent, when malicious enemies ac- 
 cused and condemned him with falsehood and rage, 
 and then insulted him with a cruel triumph ; when 
 his false friends betrayed, and his frail ones forsook 
 or denied him ; when the wrath of God fell upon 
 him, and the big grief burst out at every pore in 
 drops of blood ; when he was mangled with whips, 
 and rent with thorns, and deformed with buffetings, 
 and even then exposed in mock grandeur; when 
 such an object of pity, he was loaded with the cross, 
 and led through the streets before a gazing taunting 
 
88 
 
 multitude? But what need I say more, or why 
 speak of that last scene, which surpasses all ! All 
 this was a free endurance : he merited not the least 
 pang, or the least stripe ; he was the " well-beloved 
 of the Father, in whom God was well pleased." 
 Or, yet again, did he quit his love towards you 
 and this earth together ? Is he not gone up to 
 the presence of God, to appear for you, and so- 
 licit your interests ? And is not your soul the daily 
 object of his providential tenderness, care, and 
 bounty? Surely he is willing to give you any 
 thing, all that salvation you need. Would God 
 we were as ready to receive it, as he is to give it I 
 
 But let his invitations and assurances put beyond 
 all suspicion his willingness to save you : you can- 
 not doubt what you have from his own mouth. 
 " The Son of man is come to seek and to save that 
 which is lost." Not only to save, but to seek us, 
 that we may be saved. " Come unto me, all ye 
 that labour, and are heavy laden, and I will give 
 you rest ;" and that with the most winning induce- 
 ments ; " for my yoke is easy, and my burden is 
 light." " Ho, every one that thirsteth, come unto 
 me, and drink." Thus himself spake. And how 
 is this his gracious disposition intimated in the 
 words of Isaiah concerning him, " He shall see of 
 the travail of his soul, and be satisfied !" Words 
 which express such a delicacy and exquisiteness of 
 affection, as to make us feel that all the pain our 
 Redeemer endured, was forgotten and lost in the 
 satisfaction and delight he found in doing us ser- 
 vice. 
 
89 
 
 Away, then, with all thy fears ! Thou art in- 
 deed found guilty : sin hath also defiled thy soul, 
 justice demands vengeance, and thy own accursed 
 wickedness hath made thee fit for the place of wrath, 
 nor hast thou the least power in thyself to avert the 
 dreadful ruin : but the mercy of God hath contrived 
 a way to vindicate the glory of the divine govern- 
 ment, to recover thee from sin, and to ward off the 
 curse from thee ; and this by the incarnation and 
 death of the Eternal Word. Raise up thy head, 
 and live : " There is no condemnation to them that 
 are in Christ Jesus." Only be sure that thou be 
 found in him, and sin shall not be thy destruction. 
 Only look unto him, with an affectionate loyal heart, 
 with a heart big with detestation of iniquity, which 
 feels somewhat of those wounds which thy sins have 
 given him. 
 
 This would lead me to the fourth and concluding 
 point, namely, what that faith is, which gains us an 
 interest in the blessings of this sacrifice, and makes 
 us sharers of Christ's salvation. 
 
 But I will choose to conclude, for the present, 
 with a practical review of what has already been 
 stated. Consider thyself then, whoever thou art, 
 as a man, created to serve the purposes of thy 
 Maker's glory; and yet as an insolent worm, who 
 hast dared to join thy fellows in rebellion against 
 the majesty of God. Thou hast cast off submission ; 
 thou hast lost all loyalty of heart towards thy hea- 
 venly king; thou hast affected independence, and 
 arrogantly set up to be thy own master. See to it; 
 thou hast been doing thy own will, and taking the 
 
90 
 
 way of thy own pleasure: the gifts of God thou hast 
 turned to thy own use, and vainly boasted thyself of 
 what was but lent thee. The all-present God hath 
 noted thee in the wanton career of thy pride and 
 self-sufficiency; hath seen himself forgotten of thee; 
 hath heard thy stubborn murmurings against his 
 dispensations; hath beheld thee bowing down to the 
 idols of life, pleasure, and interest, and praise. Ah, 
 how art thou fallen from God and happiness! what 
 wrong hast thou done to thy God and thy soul ! 
 The honourable name of God thou hast caused to 
 cease from the earth; well-pleasing innocence hath 
 left thy soul; thou art become the habitation of those 
 enemies of God, the devil, the world, and lust. 
 Hell, the place of sin and vengeance, hath opened 
 its mouth, and waits till thou hast filled up the mea- 
 sure of thy iniquity, to receive thee. Go, gird up 
 now thy loins, like a man; put on thy might, thou 
 man of strength; go settle God again upon his 
 throne; give him back the honour thou hast rebel- 
 liously despoiled him of, that his dominion suffer 
 nothing through fault of thee: Rise up and drive 
 before thee the traitors which dwell in thy soul, that 
 not one of them may be left; yea, take to thee also 
 the image of God, that he may have pleasure in thy 
 beauty: Seest thou not the avenging sword of God 
 held up to strike thee? Lose no time; give his 
 justice satisfaction. Up, bestir thyself ; these things 
 are not the work of a day. Why dost thou loiter? 
 Art thou not able? Is the task too great for thee? 
 What? is that proud head of thine, thou hast car- 
 ried so high against heaven, brought down so strange- 
 
91 
 
 ]y, that thou darest not attempt thy recovery; that 
 the very thought confounds thee ? Methinks, I see 
 thee in this matter reduced to the condition of an in- 
 fant newly born; thou liest utterly helpless, and 
 without strength ; unless some gracious hand suc- 
 cour thee, thou canst but weep and complain, and 
 perish. The irreparable dishonour thou hast done 
 the majesty of God, the stubborn dominion which 
 sin hath gained over thee, the expectation of de- 
 served and declared wrath, all fall upon thee to- 
 gether, crush thee to the dust, and draw forth the 
 solemn cry from thy heart, " Undone man that I am ; 
 what shall I do to be saved ?" 
 
 Here now, and lift up thy head; yet there is 
 hope. God so loves thee still, that he hath given 
 his only Son that thou mayest not perish. All may 
 be well. The mighty Redeemer stands between 
 God and thee: jealous of his Father's glory, full of 
 zeal to bring in rebels to allegiance, he hath submit- 
 ted to death, and all the merit of it he offers to thee. 
 How extensive, how tender his love ! O my brother, 
 whether shall we most rejoice or fear, in the sight of 
 this condescension? The wisdom, the justice, the 
 love, manifested in " the Word made flesh," to- 
 gether with the interest we have in the wonderful 
 dispensation ; how should it possess our hearts ! at 
 once cover us with confusion, fill us with joy, and 
 inflame us with gratitude ! Let us think together 
 of that God with whom we have to do. Let us 
 think of that goodness, as well as power, which 
 made us out of nothing; of that patience, which 
 waits upon a world in rebellion, while no might is 
 
92 
 
 wanting to execute instant vengeance ; of that mer- 
 cy, which sacrifices the Lord of life to save sinners 
 and enemies. In these reflections, admiration of 
 the every- way glorious God cannot but seize us ; and 
 entering into the awful sentiments of the prophet, 
 we shall be ready to cry out, " Truly, O God, thy 
 thoughts are not as our thoughts, nor thy ways as 
 our ways. We cannot find thee out to perfection. 
 But if we may measure thy attributes one by ano- 
 ther, and count of thy justice from what we see of 
 thy goodness, and patience, and mercy, that it is al- 
 together infinite and incomprehensible; we must 
 believe, that thou hast some wondrous vengeance in 
 store for sinners. We hear of flames and black- 
 ness of darkness for ever; but we can no more mea- 
 sure the extent, than we can fathom the eternity of 
 those torments, thy exact justice hath appointed as 
 the wages of sin. We cannot but tremble, O 
 God, upon the apprehension of thy fearful judgments, 
 even as little as we can conceive of them; and wo 
 were unto us, unless thy mercy were as large as thy 
 justice. But, great God ! It is as easy for thee to 
 forgive as to punish ; and thy wisdom hath discovered 
 a way, whereby to exercise thy mercy without in- 
 juring thy justice. Nor can thy truth fail, more 
 than any other of thy adorable perfections. We 
 will dare avouch it therefore with humble confidence, 
 because thou hast said it: we can no more perish, if 
 we return, than we can escape, if we persist and die 
 in our iniquities, for thy unalterable truth stands en- 
 gaged for the one, as much as the other." Such 
 art thou, in whose hands we are; in goodness, pa- 
 
93 
 
 tience, justice, mercy, and truth, altogether infi- 
 nite. 
 
 O grant us, heavenly Majesty, from the daily ex- 
 perience we have of thy loving-kindness and patience, 
 to conceive the highest apprehensions of both thy 
 justice and thy mercy! that flying from sin, vve may 
 escape thy judgments, and betaking ourselves to 
 Christ Jesus, may inherit thy promises; judgments 
 and promises ^hich, upon the infallible assurance of 
 thy truth, are laid up for the evil and the good. 
 
SERMON IV, 
 
 FAITH IN CHRIST. 
 
 John vi. 37. 
 
 Him that coraeth to me I will in nowise cast out. 
 
 Give me leave to hope, that amidst the various 
 concerns which have engaged your attention since 
 we last parted, the important one of your soul's sal- 
 vation may have had a peculiar place. That you 
 are come hither again, desirous to have " the way 
 of God expounded to you more perfectly;" more per- 
 fectly to be informed, how ye may be delivered from 
 your manifold miseries, how made partakers of the 
 saving merits of Christ's atonement. Hear what 
 your Redeemer saith, " Him that cometh to me I 
 will in nowise cast out." You must come to 
 Christ. If you do so, you have it from his own 
 mouth, he " will in nowise cast you out;" and you 
 know, that " heaven and earth shall pass away, but 
 his word shall not pass away." You would know, 
 what it is to come to Christ. My business is now 
 to explain that matter to you. But I would ask 
 you beforehand, is it out of curiosity you would hear 
 
95 
 
 of it, to amuse a critical head? or would you know- 
 it, merely to settle you in just notions, and orthodox 
 opinions? Alas! I should but lose my labour upon 
 you. You may hear, you may know, but you can- 
 not understand nor perceive. How should you? 
 You know not, at least you feel not, that you are a 
 sinner; you are whole, you do not need a physician; 
 you neither can nor will come to Christ, that you 
 may be saved. But would you know what it is to 
 come to Christ, because whatever it be, and what- 
 ever it may cost you, you are ready to do it ? Be 
 assured that you " are not far from the kingdom of 
 God." It will be a pleasing employment to me, to 
 show you that faith in the Son of God, which it is 
 my present concern to illustrate. 
 
 This was ihe fourth and concluding point. Here, 
 Firsts You are undone in yourself; a sinner, and 
 dishonourer of God, liable to his wrath, which you 
 have no power to avert, fallen from the purity of 
 man's primitive nature, which you have no strength 
 in you to recover. If left to yourself, you must 
 abide under the dominion of your lusts, and at last 
 perish in deserved vengeance. — This charge I sup- 
 pose you to allow. 
 
 Secondly^ Christ " is able and willing to save 
 you." You have heard of the inexpressible dignity 
 of his person, " God manifested in the flesh." His 
 victorious satisfying, and reconciling obedience unto 
 death, hath been set forth. You have been shown, 
 that " he is able to save them to the uttermost that 
 come unto God by him," amply and eternally he is 
 able to save you. At the same time, his willing- 
 
96 
 
 ness hath been evidently set before you. I suppose, 
 therefore, you are also fully assured, that he hath 
 an all-sufficient ability and willingness to apply his 
 salvation to you. Seeing then you are undone in 
 yourself, and seeing you are assured he is able and 
 willing to save you ; I ask. 
 
 Thirdly^ Have you found yourself determined to 
 rest your soul upon him? Are you resolved to 
 venture all your eternal interests with him? And 
 quitting all other confidences, doth your soul hang 
 upon him for all your hopes? We shall be more 
 particular immediately. For the present, hear how 
 the Scriptures describe this committing of the soul 
 unto Christ, from a full persuasion of his power, as 
 saving faith in him, and as the means of your accep- 
 tance with God. " We say," saith St, Paul, " that 
 faith was reckoned to Abraham for righteousness." 
 What faith ? His steadfast dependence upon the 
 promises of God : " He was fully persuaded, that 
 what God had promised, he was able to perform." 
 He had the word of promise, " So shall thy seed be;" 
 and he could trust God for the fulfilling it. It was 
 to no purpose, that all human appearances were against 
 him ; " he considered not (did not make any account 
 of) his own body now dead, neither yet the deadness 
 of Sarah's womb." These were no difficulties with 
 God, and in despite of them all, " against hope he 
 believed in hope, that (nevertheless) he might become 
 the father of many nations, according to that which 
 was spoken." Do you " walk in the steps of this 
 faith of your father Abraham?" Are you fully 
 persuaded, that what Christ hath undertaken (the 
 
97 
 
 complete salvation of sinners) he is able also to per- 
 form ? Whatever difficulties lie in the way, in life 
 and death, are you fully persuaded that he is able 
 and faithful? And are you determined to depend 
 and rest your soul upon him? Yours is that very 
 " faith, which was reckoned to Abraham for ri^h- 
 teousness." By this faith, Abraham gave glory to 
 God, ascribing to him what is his real due, power, 
 faithfulness, and mercy. Nor can you any other 
 way honour the Son, but by an entire dependence 
 upon him, wherein you give him that of which he is 
 jealous, and which is his just and proper right, the 
 glory of being the alone, all-sufficient, and faithful 
 Redeemer. But, 
 
 Fourthly, That you may not be mistaken, let us 
 be more particular. 
 
 1. With an evident sense of your guilt, misery, 
 and being without help in yourself, do you come to 
 Christ that he may reconcile the Father to you, re- 
 solvedly determined to leave yourself with him for 
 this purpose? Seeing an all-sufficient merit in his 
 death and righteousness, would you that he should 
 apply it to you, for God's forgiving you your sin, 
 and taking you into his favour? And do you dis- 
 claim all other hope and confidence of obtaining par- 
 don and peace with God, besides what the merit of 
 Christ's atonement and righteousness gives you, be- 
 ing assured that if you fail of obtaining a part in 
 this, you perish ? Do you thus flee to Christ for 
 refuge from the stings of a guilty conscience, the 
 sight of your own vileness, and the apprehension of 
 deserved wrath? So far it is welL " No flesh 
 E 19 
 
98 
 
 must glory in God's sight. He that glorieth, must 
 glory in the Lord;" whose " blood cleanseth from 
 all sin," and who will be known by tliis name, 
 " The Lord our righteousness." But, 
 
 2. Is this your application to the Lord Jesus for 
 reconciliation with God, accompanied with an equally 
 urgent desire, and which you cannot endure you 
 should not see fulfilled to you, that he will rescue 
 you from the slavery of sin and Satan, that he will 
 put a new heart into you, and restore the image of 
 the blessed God to your soul? In other words, do 
 you approve of Christ as a master and husband, as 
 well as a Saviour, desiring to be his with all the 
 faithfulness of a servant, with all the affectionate 
 loyalty of a spouse? Hath the majesty, the loveli- 
 ness, the condescension of this Redeemer, engaged 
 your heart to him, so as you find yourself ready and 
 desirous to leave your father's house, to be subject 
 to his directions, to be under his protection, to cleave 
 steadfastly to him, and every way to own and honour 
 him, whatever you may lose, whatever you may suf- 
 fer? Can you appeal to your own breast, and doth 
 that declare, that in this manner, without any reserve, 
 you desire to be the follower of Christ, valuing him 
 because of that freedom he offers you from sin, be- 
 cause of that power he would give you of becoming 
 the servant, as well as the child of God ? If having 
 " found this pearl of great price," you are thus will- 
 ing to " sell all that you have to buy it," if you are 
 content and desirous to take Christ's yoke on you, 
 I ask, 
 
 3. Are your prejudices against Christ and his 
 
99 
 
 word removed, so that you come to liim as " the 
 light of the world," willing that he may teach you 
 " all things that pertain unto life and godliness? Are 
 you resolved, that in all things his word shall be 
 your rule, that you will not hearken to any reason- 
 ings of your unbelieving heart, to the pleadings of 
 your own flesh, to the customs of a vvicked world, 
 against it? and are you desirous that the Holy Spirit 
 may lead you into all the truths which are therein? 
 Are you ready to acknowledge Jesus to be the great 
 " prophet that should come into the world," by 
 meekly submitting yourself to the teaching of his 
 word and Spirit ? Like the convicted Saul, is your 
 heart prepared for action, and waiting for direction, 
 " Lord, what wilt thou have me to do ?" 
 
 Judge you, that in this way you come to Christ, 
 to be justified, governed, and taught by him? But 
 are you sincere in all this ? *' Show me thy faith 
 by thy works," saith St. James. Therefore, 
 
 4. To prove your sincerity, to try the truth of 
 your faith, what effect hath it upon you ? If it be 
 true faith, you are become a living member of 
 Christ's body; if you come to Christ with a real 
 sincerity in the things described, he is faithful; and 
 it v.ill appear, that he dwelleth in you by the Spirit 
 which he gives you; producing such immediate fruits 
 in your heart and life, as you must own (if you be- 
 lieve the Scriptures, or arc acquainted with your own 
 inability) are altogether above your power. 
 
 It is my purpose to give you a large account of 
 this matter hereafter. Wherefore, for the present, 
 I shall be content only to say so much m a general 
 E2 
 
100 
 
 way, as may serve to prevent your imagining you 
 come to Christ, if you do not. And this will be 
 sufficiently done, if you consider more attentively, 
 what it is you come to him for. You know that he 
 is able to save and help you ; and you hear him say, 
 if you come to him, he will in nowise cast you out, 
 or reject your suit. So that if you do really come 
 to him for the ^* things which pertain unto life and 
 godliness," it cannot be that you should be without 
 them. See then, 
 
 First, You are come to Christ, that he may re- 
 concile the Father to you. But you will not think 
 that you do this in sincerity, unless the choicest affec- 
 tions of your heart are engaged to him. " To you 
 who believe, he is precious." And is he become so 
 to you? Doth the dignity of his person command, 
 and his gracious condescension constrain your love? 
 Is it a pleasure for you to think of him in his life, 
 his death, his glory; and is his name delightful to 
 you ? Doth it grieve you to see him daily despised 
 of men? and are you rejoiced in the prospects of 
 that illustrious day, when he " shall be revealed from 
 heaven, with his mighty angels, in flaming fire, tak- 
 ing vengeance" on his Father's enemies and his own, 
 " when he shall come to be glorified in his saints, 
 and to be admired in all them that believe?" Do 
 you reproach yourself with your sins, and mourn, 
 when you consider how they have pierced him ? Do 
 you regard yourself, and all you have, as his property, 
 the purchase of his blood? And are you ready to 
 part with any thing for him ? If you have not been 
 called to it already, are you willing to " suffer for 
 
101 
 
 his name's sake?" Can you be content to part 
 with your vvorldly friendsliips, respect, character, in- 
 terests for him? Do you "count all these things 
 dung, in comparison of Christ?" In sincerity, can 
 you make a faithful answer to all these things? 
 Then consider, farther, 
 
 Secondly, You are come to Christ, that he may 
 deliver you from the power which sin hath had over 
 you, leading you into a new and heavenly course of 
 life. And what? Hath he done this for you? 
 Are you " made free from sin, and become the ser- 
 vant of rii^hteousness ?" Hath no outward sin do- 
 cs 
 
 minion over you? And are you actually at war with 
 all that sin which you find in your heart " not obey- 
 ing it in the lusts thereof?" If you commit sin, if 
 but one sin (as fiir as you can see) reigns over you 
 in heart or life, you are " not born of God." And 
 are you become a servant of God? Are you hear- 
 tily about your Father's business ? Do you " ex- 
 ercise yourself to have a conscience void of offence 
 towards God and towards man ?" Have you your 
 fruit unto holiness, intent upon everlasting life, as 
 the end and scope of all your pursuits? All your 
 pretensions of coming to Christ, unless this be the 
 issue, are vain ; for how reasonably doth he insist, 
 " Why call ye me Lord, Lord, and do not the things 
 which I say?" You overset the very design of his 
 coming, which was " to turn men from darkness to 
 light, from the power of Satan unto God." You 
 do him the greatest dishonour, "making him the 
 minister of sin." Nor can you have the least title 
 to faith, " which entereth into that within the vail, 
 
102 
 
 ■wliitlier the Forerunner is for us entered," seeing 
 you mintl earthly things, and take up with present 
 gratifications. But if, in this point also, you have 
 a comfortable answer from your own co^ws-cience, I 
 have only to suggest this farther inquiry. 
 
 Thirdly^ You are come to Christ for the direction 
 of his word and Spirit. And from the one, by the 
 operation of the other of these, do you this day 
 know assuredly, and rest satisfied therein, that 
 " there is none other name under heaven given 
 among men whereby we must be saved," but only 
 the name of our Lord Jesus Christ ? Consequently, 
 do you make Christ's words (the holy Scriptures) 
 the guide of your feet? Do you not dispute, either 
 to believe, or to do any thing which you find in them? 
 Do you bring your principles and your conduct " to 
 the law and to the testimony," to be sifted and 
 proved? And is this done with a certain singleness 
 of eye, meekly desiring to know what the will of the 
 Lord is, without regarding your own reasonings, in- 
 terests, or inclinations? Also, do you use a becom- 
 ing diligence in hearing and searching the Scrip- 
 tures; and in prayer, that Christ would open your 
 understanding, that you may understand them? And 
 is your diligence herein such as may reasonably con- 
 vince you, that you believe the Scriptures only can 
 make you wise unto salvation, and that you desire 
 to learn from them all the counsel of God concern- 
 ing you? — If otherwise, you cannot be a disciple of 
 Christ: and whatever knowledge you may have 
 picked up, your religion is of your own making; nor, 
 however exactly you may think of Jesus Christ, 
 
103 
 
 have you ever found in yourself a real want of the 
 saving merit of his death and righteousness, and of 
 the sanctifying influences of his grace and Spirit. 
 
 You may see now, that faith in Jesus Christ is 
 no notional thing, that it doth not consist in your 
 merely giving your assent to any, or all of the truths 
 concerning him. If you are a real believer in him, 
 there is a daily communication and intercourse be- 
 tween the Saviour and you. Continually sensible 
 of your wants, your sinfulness, your weakness, your 
 ignorance, you come to him; not as to one, concern- 
 ing whom your believe that he lived and died, and 
 went away into heaven, so many years ago, and with 
 whom you have no immediate business to transact: 
 but as to a living Mediator and Intercessor; under 
 whose feet God hath put all things, and given him 
 to be head over all things to the church." And he 
 on his part as continually, with a provident care, and 
 ready hand, ministers to you the supply of your 
 needs; so that you may truly say, you live by him. 
 Thus you come to him; thus you receive out of 
 bis fulness. This your coming to him, is the faith 
 in him he expects; this your receiving, is the proof 
 that it is so. — O labour to enlarge the blessed fel- 
 lowship ! — And to this end, let the foundation upon 
 which this intercourse stands, be laid yet deeper in 
 you. — Be sensible of the blessings which attend you 
 in it. 
 
 First, See that the foundation upon which this 
 intercourse stands, be laid yet deeper in you. In 
 this view, 
 
 1. Labour to discover more evidently, how lost 
 
 •■^ 
 
104 
 
 and undone you are in yourself. Remember and 
 search out more effectually your old iniquities, and 
 see how a perverted heart turned you aside. Con- 
 sider more attentively, how imperfect you now are, 
 and far from that righteousness of heart and life, 
 which the unspotted law of God requires at your 
 hands; how little you could say for yourself, were 
 God to try you upon your own deservings. Though 
 no sin hath dominion, yet see how much of it re- 
 mains within you: how "the flesh lusteth against 
 the spirit, so that you cannot do the things that you 
 would." Consider also the worthlessness of your 
 holy things, your best performances. In a word, be 
 casting up daily the sum of your unworthiness and 
 vileness; and see what reasonable cause you have 
 to add to the account, as you reflect upon your past, 
 and even present state, and conduct. It is a grow- 
 ing discovery of the sickness of your soul, that must 
 keep you in a more lively state and desire after the 
 relief which Christ hath to give you. 
 
 2. Be more sensible of your insufficiency. Guard 
 against self-dependence, a leaning to your own righ- 
 teousness or strength. Labour to discover, with 
 stronger evidence, the unavailableness of your present 
 and future good conduct, to have justified you with 
 God ; and how, if left to yourself, you shall not be 
 able to will or do contrary to the will of the flesh, 
 but must quickly " make shipwreck of faith and a 
 good conscience." The adversary will be assailing 
 you upon this side, and endeavouring to puff you up 
 with high-minded conceits, " as though you had al- 
 ready attained." Your business must be to coun- 
 
105 
 
 terplot his devices, by sitting down in the lowest 
 room, more experimentally persuaded that " without 
 Christ you can do nothing.'* 
 
 3. Endeavour to gain more enlarged views of the 
 stifficiency and fulness of Christ. Get yourself 
 more acquainted with his dignity, " as the only be- 
 gotten of the Father;" his fitness, the word made 
 flesh; his majestic loveliness, full of grace and truth. 
 Be more acquainted with his condescensions, his 
 victories and triumphs. Consider him frequently as 
 gone up to his glory, invested with " all power both 
 ill heaven and earth," the covenant-head of his 
 church; a Lord mighty to defend, and gracious to 
 govern; an advocate available to plead; a great and 
 merciful high priest to bless; a forerunner; a surety. 
 Consider him again and again, as the Judge of the 
 dead and the living; and confirm upon your heart, 
 how he will assuredly come again, with what power, 
 with what glory, with wliat vengeance, with what 
 deliverance. Be more acquainted with his eternal 
 kingdom, his throne, which is for ever and ever. 
 Labour, in a word, to make a full discovery, how 
 mighty he is to save you. And, 
 
 4. Seek that your persuasion of his love and wil- 
 lingness, do grow in proportion with the assurance 
 you have of his power. Review the gospel con- 
 tinually as a dispensation of mercy and grace; search- 
 ing deeper into the depths of these expressions. 
 Consider, how love was the only cause of what our 
 Redeemer hath done for us; how love only con- 
 strained him, how freely he was sent, how freely he 
 came into the world; how " he gave his life a ran^ 
 
 E 3 
 
106 
 
 som for many." Endeavour not only tliat you may 
 have no suspicion of Ins love, but that you may have 
 the utmost confidence in it: verily believing there is 
 nothing he would take so ill at your hands as to sus- 
 pect his kindness, after the proofs lie hath given, 
 and the assurances he hath made you, of his love. 
 
 In this way, feeling your wants, and sensible of 
 your helplessness, assured of the Redeemer's power, 
 and persuaded of his love, you shall find the fellow- 
 ship, so happily for you commenced between him and 
 your soul, to be enlarged, to the abundant establish- 
 ment of your ways and your peace, and to the honour 
 and praise of liis saving grace. 
 
 Secondly^ And to quicken you in all these things; 
 also, be sensible of the blessings that attend you, in 
 this intercourse and fellowship with the Son of 
 God. 
 
 And these are no less than a certain part in all 
 the '' promises of God, which in Christ Jesus are 
 yea and amen;" and all of them yours, seeing you 
 are Christ's, not only by purchase, but also by that 
 vital surrender you have made of your whole self 
 unto him; — forgiveness of sins — the adoption of a 
 child — a new and child-like disposition of soul — the 
 daily care of the Redeemer — -a delightful fellowship 
 with the faithful — a thankful enjoyment of God's 
 creatures — and a hope, full of immortality — are the 
 blessings which you enjoy in this new state to which 
 you are admitted* 
 
 1. Forgiveness of sins. " I write to you, little 
 children,'' saith the beloved disciple, because " your 
 sins are forgiven you for his name's sake." Hear, 
 
107 
 
 thou little cliiltl, that hast found thyself hopeless and 
 helpless as an infant, that art come to the everlasiino' 
 Father, and hast cast all thy cares upon him, thy 
 sins are forgiven thee for his name's sake. Say they 
 are many, great, aggravated; sins of a scarlet dye, 
 and red as crimson ; yet they are purged away for 
 his name's sake. As a tliick cloud they hung black 
 and threatening over thee, and kept from tliee the 
 light of heaven; but now they are blotted out, as a 
 cloud which the v.ind hath carried away, and thy 
 God remembereth them not, as if they were cast 
 into the depths of the sea. For *' there is no con- 
 demnation to them wliich are in Christ Jesus, who 
 walk not after the flesh but after the spirit." To 
 thee there is no condemnation, for thou walkest after 
 the spirit, thou art spiritually-minded, led by the 
 spirit. No condemnation, by reason of thy past 
 sins and present infirmities; the wrath of God re- 
 moved, the accusations of Satan unheard, the sen- 
 tence of death remitted. Blessed man " whose 
 transgression is forgiven, whose sin is covered!" 
 Blessed man, " unto whom the Lord imputeth not 
 iniquity !" O join the song of the prophet, and say, 
 " Sing, O ye heavens; for the Lord hath done it: 
 shout, ye lower parts of the earth : break forth into 
 singing, ye mountains : O forest, and every tree 
 therein; for the Lord hath redeemed Jacob, and 
 glorified himself in Israel." 
 
 2. The adoption of a child. Thou, who wert 
 sometimes far off, art made nigh by the blood of Je- 
 sus, become a child of God by faith in Jesus Christ: 
 no longer now " a stranger and a foreigner, but a 
 
108 
 
 fellow-citizen with the saints, and of the household 
 of God." For " as many as received him, to them 
 gave he power to become the sons of God." And 
 thou dost receive him, as the Christ, the Son of the 
 living God: cordially receive him, as thy Prince and 
 Saviour. Know then, God condescends to be thy 
 Father. Stagger not at so great a thing, as though 
 it were too high for thee: it is Jesus gives thee this 
 glorious power and privilege. Himself saiih, " Go 
 to my brethren, and say unto them, I ascend unto 
 my Father and your Father, and to my God and 
 your God." You cannot deny the relation, with- 
 out denying Jesus to be the Son of God, seeing he 
 evidently calls you his brother. So God had said, 
 " Come out from among them, and be ye separate, 
 saith the Lord, and touch not the unclean thing; 
 and I will receive you, and will be a Father unto you, 
 and ye shall be my sons and daughters, saith the 
 Lord Almighty." See, to what an honour thou art 
 advanced, thou son of the dust, thou sinful worm, 
 thou once heir of hell, to be the child of the Lord 
 Almighty! And as a child, he doth and will treat 
 thee; " like as a father pitieth his children, so the 
 Lord pitieth thee;" he " v/ill spare thee as a man 
 spareth his own son that serveth him;" he will cor- 
 rect thee in love, " even as a father the son in whom 
 he delighteth." Go to, ye children of princes, be 
 ashamed of your honours, the servant of Christ is the 
 son of the high God. He will not stoop to your 
 dignity, in exchange for his own. He hath a Fa- 
 ther in heaven, to whom he can come with boldness, 
 upon whom he can securely depend, a Father al- 
 
109 
 
 mighty and most merciful. '^ Behold what manner 
 of love the Father hath bestowed upon us that we 
 should be called the sons of God." 
 
 3. A new and child-like disposition of soul. To 
 have " escaped the corruption that is in the world 
 through lust," to be " partaker of a divine nature," 
 to walk with God as a dear child, are blessings which 
 cannot be valued by the children of this world; 
 which cannot be valued, as they deserve, by the 
 children of light. What, is it nothing to you, ye 
 believers, that, once dead in trespasses and sins, sin 
 hath now no longer dominion over you ? That alienated 
 from the life of God, as ye naturally are, yea, pos- 
 sessed by that carnal mind which is enmity against 
 God, ye now find yourselves " renewed in the 
 spirit of your minds," changed into the image of 
 the Lord, and that " from glory to glory, even as 
 by the Spirit of the Lord?" That " ye have received 
 the spirit of adoption, whereby we cry Abba, Fa- 
 ther;" not a slave-like, but a child-like disposition 
 towards God, the seal of your adoption, the " ear- 
 nest of our inheritance?" Reflecting upon what 
 you were, and what you are, and what lies before 
 you, are these things nothing to you? Let your 
 thankful hearts be witness. True, you have sold 
 all to buy Christ, but what have ye gained already? 
 Ye cannot repent of, ye cannot but rejoice with joy 
 unspeakable, in the purchase ye have made! 
 
 4. The daily care of the Redeemer. " Having 
 loved his own, beloved them unto the end." What, 
 to death only? Did death quench his love? " He 
 ascended up on high to receive gifts for men, to ap- 
 
no 
 
 pear in the presence of God for us." His love for 
 his people will never end; " neither pray I for these 
 alone (his then disciples) but for them also vAncli 
 shall beheve in nie through their word." This is 
 his continual intercession for us. Read in his his- 
 tory the tender concern he felt towards his follow- 
 ers ; and in your hourly needs, he hears the like 
 love to you. Say, thou believing soul, why, charge- 
 able with so many sins and so much unworthiness, do 
 not tlie terrors of a guilty conscience follow and dis- 
 may thee? Why, though altogether weak, and still 
 inclined to evil as thou art, do not sin and Satan 
 every hour get advantage of thee? Whence is it, 
 that amidst all the temptations which a beguiling 
 world presents continually to thy eyes and heart, 
 tliou art not seduced from *' the hope set before 
 thee?" Kow comes it, that thy trials are so pro- 
 portioned to thy strength, that thou always findest a 
 way to escape? W^ho provides for thee those awa- 
 kening instructive providences and means, thou daily 
 dost meet with? And who, at the same time, those 
 secret and suitable suggestions thou perceivest to 
 rise within thee? Sit down at the close of the day, 
 and review what hath past in it, what thou hast gone 
 through, how thou hast been protected, supported, 
 blessed; and thy very soul will be filled with admi- 
 ration of that loving care, which the great Head of 
 the church exercises towards tliee; thy heart will 
 grow big with thankfulness and praise; tliou wilt be 
 wanting some pious friend, with whom to communi- 
 cate the overflowings of thy joy, to '^ declare what 
 the Lor 1 hath done for thy soul." 
 
Ill 
 
 5. A delightful fellowship with the faithful. I 
 speak not of the various ways wherein the true mem- 
 bers of Christ do communicate to and with one 
 another, nor of that excellent charity which enlarges 
 all their hearts, and inspires them with all readi- 
 ness to this communion; but I speak of the delight 
 that accompanies it. The rest of the world having 
 no common head, nor satisfying hope, live hateful 
 unto, and hating one another. O the uncomfort- 
 able state, where hatred, variance, emulation, strife, 
 and envy, rage in every breast! But the company 
 of the faithful live together in " love, joy, peace, 
 long-suffering, gentleness, goodness, faith, meek- 
 ness." For why, all their interests are one, their 
 enemies, their v/arfare, their dangers, their fears, 
 their hope, their head, their spiiit, their crown, 
 their kingdom, one: ail alike " members of Christ, 
 children of God, and heirs of the promises." 
 With such as these thou livcst, since thou hast 
 known the Lord Jesus ; partaker of their faithful 
 admonitions, tender consolations, and affectionate 
 prayers. And didst thou ever know before, what 
 society, vvhat friendship was ? Now thou canst truly 
 say, " All my delight is vvith the saints that are m 
 the earth." " Behold how good and joyful a thing 
 it is for brethren to dwell together in unity." 
 
 6. A thankful enjoyment of all God's creatures. 
 It is written, v.lien God had finished the creation 
 of the heavens and the earth, that he " saw every 
 thing that he had made, and behold it was very 
 good.' In like manner, since a new life hath been 
 breathed into thy soul, thou seest all the creatures 
 
112 
 
 of God, til at they are very good : the conveniences, 
 the comforts of this life, houses, friends, food, rai- 
 ment, every thing good. God's various provision 
 is become satisfying, content sits upon thy heart, 
 gratitude rises upon thy breast, while all is " sancti- 
 fied to thee, by the word of God and prayer." This 
 may seem a light matter to the discontented world, 
 but thou receivest all as the gifts of God for Jesus' 
 sake, with whom he freely giveth all these things. 
 This sweetens them all, that in Christ Jesus thou 
 art reinstated into a right in them. And say, if, 
 while thou regardest them as so many tokens of the 
 love of the Father, they are not inexpressibly de- 
 lightful, and do not build up in thee a reviving and 
 high expectation of those bounties, which are stored 
 up for his children in the everlasting world? Thus 
 every thing contributes to render the believer blessed: 
 and while he knows himself unworthy of the least of 
 all God's mercies, the very least bounties of heaven 
 draw out well-pleased expressions of praise, and min- 
 ister complacency and happiness. But why stop I 
 upon these meaner things? Forgive me, thou heir 
 of glory, that thou hast been detained thus from the 
 refreshing views of thy heavenly inheritance. 
 
 7. A hope full of immortality. To read to thee 
 the Scripture descriptions of the joys above, were 
 but to transcribe that which, with deepest impres- 
 sion, is graven upon thy heart. There faith hath 
 painted them in the most lively characters, and hope 
 glows with inextinguishable ardour for the enjoy- 
 ment of them. A hope which is an " anchor of the 
 soul, both sure and steadfast," amidst all the various 
 
113 
 
 calamities of life. A hope that " maketh not 
 ashamed of whatever reproaches, or sufferings. A 
 hope that purifieth even as God is pure. A blessed 
 hope, that waits for the glory of God, with abundant 
 rejoicing; while, with abounding hope, thou lookest 
 forward to the everlasting kingdom of Emmanuel, a 
 joy springs up within thee " unspeakable and full of 
 glory." And if to see the land before thee, be a 
 source of so much joy, how then the possession of it ! 
 To enter into the new Jerusalem, to " see God as 
 he is," to " be for ever with the Lord," to be 
 " fashioned like unto his glorious body," to be " pre- 
 sented without spot or wrinkle, holy and without ble- 
 mish," to_ taste of, and feed upon those full joys and 
 ravishing pleasures, which are to be had at the right 
 hand of God for evermore: Lo, this is thy inheri- 
 tance, thou believer! But what the sum of this 
 glorious inheritance, no earthly tongue can express, 
 no mortal heart conceive. Yet, whatever it be, it 
 is thine, the gift of God to thee in Jesus Christ; for 
 his will is, that " they whom the Father hath given 
 him may be with him where he is," may " enter in- 
 to the joy of their Lord." 
 
 Often reckon over, with thankful acknowledgment, 
 these blessings which attend thee in thy fellowship 
 with Christ: endeavour daily to get a clearer and 
 clearer evidence of thy interest in them. Hereby, 
 thy love of Jesus shall increase; that love shall draw 
 thee still nearer to him; from whence thou shalt ex- 
 perience growing strength and consolation to be in- 
 spired into thy soul, to the increase of his praise and 
 glory, and of thy peace and salvation. 
 
SERMON V. 
 
 THE BELIEVER A NEW CREATURE. 
 
 2 Cor. v. 17. 
 
 If any man be in Christ, he is a new creature. 
 
 It was made too sadly evident, in the first of these 
 discourses, that sin had deformed the soul of man, 
 ruined the image of God stamped upon us, and had 
 set us in such a state of alienation from God, that, 
 while he was forgotten and slighted by us, having 
 no manner of influence or rule in our hearts, we 
 were found to be intent upon carnal gratifications 
 and earthly pursuits, and affecting above all things 
 self-love and self-pleasing. With the miserable 
 bondage and tremendous danger of this condition, 
 the true believer hath been made acquainted. He 
 hath been led to Jesus for deliverance, and, to his 
 inexpressible consolation, he finds, that Christ hath 
 set him free; that this mighty Redeemer hath heard 
 his suit, and " renewed a right spirit within him;" 
 that he dwelleth in his heart, and liveth in him ; 
 and that he is actually joined to the Lord, having 
 the same mind, temper, course, and way of conduct 
 
115 
 
 in him, " which was also in Christ Jesus." Now, 
 this entire and wonderful change, which Christ 
 brings about, by his grace, in the hearts of those 
 that humbly come to him, is by St. Paul termed, 
 with great propriety, " a new creature ;" seeing 
 herein a man is so fashioned and formed again, 
 that he is quite another sort of a thing from what 
 he was before. This is the assured and infalHble 
 event of union with Christ ; for " if any man be 
 in Christ, he is a new creature." Nor can any 
 thing avail without it, neither circumcision nor un- 
 circumcision, no manner of external privileges or 
 services, but the new creature only. It is indeed 
 the main end of Christ's coming down from hea- 
 ven, of pardon purchased and offered to us, of 
 Christ's dominion above, and of his mission of the 
 Spirit, and of faith itself. This is the one end 
 of the whole, that, being partakers of a new and 
 divine nature, and thereby recovering purity of 
 heart, we may see God, and at last fully enjoy him. 
 1 would call this new creature, the work of Christ 
 in us, or the power which the humble soul (the 
 person brought to the teachable, abased, and man- 
 ageable disposition of a little child,) hath obtained, 
 to turn from sin unto God, by means of faith. 
 Whether we consider Christ living in his members, 
 or whether we consider the desires of a truly hum- 
 bled mind, this new creature is the completion of 
 such desires, the life of such a member, and is at 
 once the great evidence of our union with Christ, 
 and of the sincerity of our faith. 
 
 I shall go on, therefore, to the second main point 
 
116 
 
 above laid down, which is, the description of the 
 new creature. 
 
 But I cannot enter upon this matter so hastily, 
 as not to beg one moment, that I may previously 
 engage your attention to it. You are about, every 
 one of you, to be brought to a trial by the word of 
 God, at the bar of your own consciences, whether 
 ye be in Christ, or not ; that is, whether God be, 
 this day, your Father, or your avenger ; whether 
 ye belong to Christ, or Belial ; whether ye be in- 
 heritors of the kingdom of heaven, or children of 
 wrath. And such an inquiry, one cannot but judge, 
 must awaken, or comfort, or quicken you. Truly, 
 it is no light thing, either to be, or not to be, in 
 Christ. To be in Christ ! Hear how our apostle 
 triumphs in the blessedness of such a state ! " All 
 things are yours, whether Paul, or Apollos, or 
 Cephas, or the world, or life, or death, or things 
 present, or things to come ; all are yours, if ye are 
 Christ's." Not to be in Christ ! How doth all, 
 more than conceivable, misery, stand proclaimed 
 against such a condition, in that one awful word, 
 " He that believeth not the Son, shall not see life, 
 but the wrath of God abideth on him." 
 
 A question of such moment as this, warns you 
 to lay aside vain curiosity, and deceitful excuses, 
 and all application to others of what you shall hear ; 
 and to put on meekness of spirit, and the discern- 
 ment of a single eye, with a heedful attention. It 
 calls upon me to address you with caution and free- 
 dom, that I may neither go beyond, or fall short of 
 the truth, in this description of the new creature. 
 
117 
 
 May God be with us herein, both one and another, 
 that neither our preaching, nor your faith, may be 
 found vain ! 
 
 That you may enter with me the more readily 
 into this description, I shall lay before you the plan 
 upon which I intend to proceed, and the particular 
 views I am to have before me, whilst I shall be de- 
 scribing the character of the new creature. 
 
 As to the plan, it is this : 
 
 First, To let you into the nature of the charac- 
 ter, from a general account of it; and then. 
 
 Secondly, To go through a survey of this charac- 
 ter, in the several branches of it; and this, by laying 
 open his soul to you, in an illustration of the appre- 
 hensions of his understanding, the choice of his will, 
 and the exercise of his affections. 
 
 Thirdly, I will represent to you the expressions 
 and workings of such a renewed soul, in his thoughts, 
 words, and actions, whether they regard what he 
 doth not do, or what he doth. 
 
 As to the views I have with me, they are these : 
 'principally, to give an account of the new creature ; 
 secondarily, to show the opposition there is between 
 this character, and that of the careless sinner ; col- 
 laterally, to undeceive the formal professor. In 
 pursuit of which scheme, 1 shall make it my busi- 
 ness, as I go along describing the new creature, to 
 set the natural man over against it; and also care- 
 fully to mark the difference, wherever the formal 
 professor, who is indeed altogether unrenewed, (as 
 he will find by the two characters to be drawn up of 
 the new man and the old,) seems to carry a resem- 
 
118 
 
 blance of the new creature. And in all this, my 
 design is to be as practical as possible ; and there- 
 fore I purpose to lead you into all these points, in a 
 way of inquiry; wishing, that while you are made 
 to see what the new creature is, you may take the 
 matter to yourself, and examine if you have, or have 
 not a title to that character. 
 
 The^r5^ thing 1 have to do is, to let you into 
 the nature of the new creature's character, from a 
 general account of it. 
 
 And here I will represent him to you, as one 
 whose eyes are opened to a right sense of himself 
 and all things, or who is humble ; whose main busi- 
 ness in hfe is the care of his soul ; who is ready 
 to this spiritual work ; and who hungers for growth 
 in it. 
 
 1. His eyes are opened to a right sense of him- 
 self and all things, or, he is humble. It is only a 
 just estimation of ourselves, and of the other things 
 with which we are concerned, that can show us our 
 friends and our enemies, the path we must take and 
 that we must avoid, our interests and our dangers. 
 This is what leads the way with the new creature, 
 putting every thing upon its right footing, and 
 keeping a man's face directly set towards God; and 
 therefore I place this just estimation of things, this 
 humility, in the front of the new creature's walk. 
 So our Lord places it, you know, as the introduc- 
 tory grace, in his sermon upon the mount. " Bles- 
 sed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom 
 of heaven." 
 
 Now by this I mean, not that humiliation or 
 
119 
 
 lieart-breaking concern, which attends tlie first awa- 
 kenmgs out of a state of sin, brings tlie sinner to 
 the foot of the cross for pardon, grace, and accep- 
 tance, and so lays the foundation of the Christian 
 building; but I am supposing the foundation al- 
 ready laid, and therefore intend here no more than 
 humility, the Christian grace, which alone keeps 
 up, as well as raises, this spiritual house. And 
 this I have called a just sense and estimation of all 
 things. 
 
 I shall now show you more particularly, what I 
 mean by it. More fully, therefore : 
 
 Humility hath placed the man in his right sta- 
 tion in the order of beings, causinoj him to refjard 
 himself as a creature of God's power and goodness, 
 and a dependant upon his sovereign will and gov- 
 ernment; and, in this connexion, hath taught him 
 to know, that by his sins, the perverse rebellion of 
 his heart, and the w^anton licentiousness of his life, 
 he hath darkened God's glory, disturbed his gov- 
 eriunent, abused his goodness, wearied his patience, 
 and provoked his justice to a deserved sentence of 
 exclusion from rest and happiness. But then it 
 hath disposed him to see withal, that God's mercy 
 is infinite, that Jesus, the Son of God, is the mes- 
 senger of unbounded peace and love, and, leaning 
 upon that merciful loving-kindness, he hath learned 
 to grieve for those transgressions of his, which 
 made such a contrivance of suffering goodness need- 
 ful, and to apply thereto with a heart full of self- 
 loathing sorrow. He hath learned to see himself 
 " less than the least of all God*s mercies;" and there- 
 
, 120 
 
 fore he is in a way, wherein he receives the very 
 least blessing with thankfuhiess and acknowledg- 
 ment, and parts with it again, when God sees fit, 
 without murmuring; a way wherein he quietly bears 
 the visitations of God's hand, and patiently waits for 
 the gifts of providence and grace. Whatever he 
 hath of endowment, wealth, or influence, he consi- 
 ders it is a trust, to be used for the interests of God, 
 and the welfare of man. Of a lowly mind, he is 
 apt to esteem others better than himself. He feels 
 vanity and insufficiency in every earthly thing, but 
 knows, that there is an abundance of substantial 
 bliss, which he cannot now comprehend, in the world 
 which shall be. In his passage through life to 
 glory, he finds himself sadly beset with wakeful and 
 mighty adversaries without, and continually in dan- 
 ger of being betrayed by a treacherous heart within; 
 he perceives himself without all skill to observe, and 
 strength to oppose, the one and the other; and ex- 
 perience hath told him, that he must be overpowered 
 unless he be divinely supported. In a word, he 
 finds himself a sinfid creature, (and none he finds 
 worse than himself,) a poor helpless creature cast 
 upon mercy, and whose main business is, by God's 
 help, to get out of sin, and above this world, and to 
 work out salvation, the eternal state of holiness and 
 happiness. 
 
 This is what I mean by humility. This is see- 
 ing with clear eyes, and making a right estimation 
 and judgment of all things. And even thus the 
 new creature thinks and determines of himself. He 
 regards himself as a sinner deserving death, whom 
 
121 
 
 mercy only suffers to live and hope. He regards 
 himself as a creature subject to God's government, 
 and as a sinner, in need of, and liable to, his correc- 
 tions. With all obedience, he would submit to 
 God's rule; with all patience and thankfulness, he 
 would endure his chastisements. All that he hath 
 and is, he regards as God's property, and to be em- 
 ployed to his glory : he regards heaven as a treasure 
 indeed; the delights of time, as a toy ; and the devil, 
 the world, and the flesh, as his adversaries, opposing 
 his entrance into life. He walks forward, impressed 
 with a needful fear, in circumstances of so much 
 hazard, and so much importance, as he plainly sees 
 his are, while in the body. — If you can say now, 
 " This is the sight and sense I have of myself, and 
 of the things present and eternal," I may not with- 
 hold from you the truth and the blessedness of 
 your state; you are assuredly a 7iew creature. 
 This I shall quickly help you to prove, if you do, 
 upon sure grounds, apply this humility to yourself, 
 when 1 shall come to speak of the remaining parts of 
 this general description. 
 
 The careless sinner is the very contrary of all this; 
 and, I fear, a character too frequently to be met 
 with. He hath his eyes sealed up, and his heart 
 hardened, to all spiritual and eternal things. He 
 may know, that God made him; but he lives en- 
 tirely at his own will and pleasure. He hath not 
 the least thought of the dishonour he is doing to his 
 Maker ; and very little reflection he makes, of the 
 danger himself is in, and of the wrath which hangs 
 over him. He is mpre insensible to God's good- 
 F 19 
 
122 
 
 iiess, than he is to his justice; and leaves God, 
 Christ, and eternity, far above out of his sight. 
 He careth for none of these things; he is a man of 
 the world. What he hath he reckons his own; nor, 
 inquiring who gave it him, doth he once imagine 
 that he is but a steward. Ready he is to swell and 
 triumph upon every thing, wherein he seemetli to 
 himself to excel others; and the more abundant his 
 wealth, knowledge, or power is, the larger his vanity. 
 As he is unthankful for what God bestows upon 
 him; so he must have no cross in his way: he frets 
 and galls himself under corrective dispensations; and 
 doth nothing but murmur, and lie in impatience, till 
 he see the end of his affliction. He hath not the 
 smallest apprehension that the world is his enemy, 
 all his views lying on this side the grave. Give 
 him his heart's content in the indulgence of his body, 
 and of his worldly prospects, and let him withal en- 
 joy his humour, he desires no more; he will be sail- 
 ing down time very quietly, and be, for the most 
 part, as much at his ease, as if there w^ere no death, 
 nor eternity. 
 
 But here the formalist will be interposing; will be 
 thanking God he is not as this man is ; will be plead- 
 ing his freedom from harming others, his exactness 
 in duties, his fair show in the flesh, having no gross 
 sin resting on him; his benevolence and good deeds. 
 Truly, all this may be, and yet nothing right at the 
 bottom : after all, you may have as little pretence to 
 humility, as the, in appearance, more careless sinner. 
 You own that you are God's creature; but you own 
 not that you are a sinner; that you have dishonoured 
 
123 
 
 your Maker, abused his mercy and his patience, 
 justly incurred his wrath, forfeited all title to the 
 very least blessing at his hand; that such a sinner 
 you are, you are unworthy of the very bread you eat. 
 All this your unhumbled heart disallows. You can- 
 not judge of yourself in this manner, while you can 
 see none going beyond you in regularity, decency, 
 and services. You judge rather, that such a one 
 as you must be a peculiar favourite of heaven; that 
 your conversation deserves and demands some reofard 
 of your heavenly Father towards you; and confi- 
 dently trust upon your formal prayers, and alms, 
 and fastings, that they shall not be in vain. But, 
 after all, where, I pray you, is the difFerence between 
 the careless sinner and yourself, as to the matter of 
 humility? He thinks not of his sins; you deny 
 yours, or excuse them, or set up your good works as 
 more than countervailing them. Less than he, you 
 dread God's justice; nor is he more insensible than 
 yourself, to the riches of redeeming love. He values 
 himself upon worldly endowments, which he truly 
 hath ; you boast of spiritual qualifications to which 
 you have no pretence. He and you are unthankful, 
 fretful, and murmurers alike. Equally, ye are 
 strangers to all true sorrow for, and hatred of sin; 
 and while he cares not about it, you do not fear lest 
 you should fall into it. In a word, he is in subjec- 
 tion to earthly lusts, and you are enslaved by secret 
 pride. Surely then, when this matter is sifted, both 
 he and you are the natural man still ; notwithstand- 
 ing the different appearance ye make. — For the new 
 creature is humble; and, 
 F 2 
 
124 
 
 Secondly^ His main business in life, is the care of 
 his soul. The new creature, as his eyes are open 
 to a right estimation of himself and all things, so, in 
 consequence hereof, he finds another employment 
 upon his hands, from what men naturally think of, 
 and from what the interests of this life seem to de- 
 mand. He makes a new and heavenly use of life 
 and all the things of it, and engages therein in a pe- 
 culiar and reserved manner : he is busied about the 
 one thing needful; and he will make all other things 
 subservient thereto. All that he doth, tends to- 
 wards heaven ; and every action of his life is tinc- 
 tured with, and hath the stamp of, eternity. This 
 one point he labours above all; by the grace of the 
 Spirit, to subdue and mortify more effectually those 
 selfish, earthly, and carnal dispositions, which cor- 
 rupt nature hath given him; and to confirm and 
 strengthen those gracious dispositions of soul, which 
 will render him qualified for glory. Being born 
 from above, he seeketh the things which belong to 
 " God and his righteousness;" he lives by faith; 
 what he sees not, hath a prevailing influence with 
 him, beyond all which he doth see. He regards 
 life as a pilgrimage, and, like a stranger from his 
 home, contends for the house which is eternal. Nor 
 doth he mind any other thing in comparison, but be- 
 coming meet for this inheritance of the saints. This 
 is the business of the humble man upon earth. 
 
 But the careless sinner hath another sort of em- 
 ployment. He is for this world: and not an action 
 of his life bespeaks any higher regard. He knows 
 no fears, but those of want, sickness, disappointment. 
 
125 
 
 or disgrace; and his largest wishes are laid out after 
 security and ease, grandeur and wealth, reputation 
 and respect. To provide for indulgence, and to 
 preserve his health, to cover his head, and clothe his 
 body, to enjoy his friend, lay up a store for another 
 day, and care for his family ; these are the highest 
 and best things he has in view, the great concerns 
 he has in life. 
 
 What doth conscience say now? Which way 
 is your course directed? Are you labouring in the 
 road that leads towards heaven, or in the beaten path 
 of the world? Are you entered into the humble and 
 heavenly scheme and business? And what evidences 
 can you produce, that you are engaged in this new 
 work? Surely you cannot be at a loss to know 
 which hath most of your thoughts, care, and solici- 
 tude; which you prefer, and are in fact most diligent 
 to obtain, whether earthly or heavenly things ? If 
 your heart be right, and your mind renewed, your 
 sentiments are these : " Mistaken man that I was, 
 how vainly did I once imagine, there was no other 
 nor greater employment of my days, than to procure 
 the full supply of my wants ; that I had no other 
 enemy to contend with, but the confinement, depen- 
 dence, and various evils of circumstances too nar- 
 row; that I had no other good to pursue, than that 
 enlargement of fortune, which might render me my 
 own master, furnish me with what I should desire, 
 enable me, at a convenient time of life, to sit down 
 at my ease, and be under obhgation to none ! 
 But then God was little thought of; death and eter- 
 nity were far away. Ah! now that I see what I 
 
126 
 
 am, what lies before me, and the work I have to do, 
 in a short, and withal most uncertain day ; I am even 
 oppressed with the importance of every hour I live, 
 and tremble at every step I make, lest, in the midst 
 of surrounding dangers, I should wander from the 
 right way, the subtle enemy should take advantage 
 of me, and causing me to offend so good and gra- 
 cious a father, draw down upon me his displeasure.'* 
 Are these your sentiments ? Can you truly adopt 
 them, and say, " Thus I judge, and thus I live?" 
 But where are your proofs? Have you shaken off 
 all gross sins ? Do they not even occasionally gain 
 over your consent ? Are you maintaining the spi- 
 ritual war with " the law of sin which is in your 
 members,'^ manfully contending to bring every lust 
 " into subjection to the law of Christ?" Are you 
 ffot above the world? And when the matter is 
 
 o 
 
 brought to a fair trial, doth it appear, that you value 
 God's favour, more than all manner of reputation, 
 wealth, ease, and worldly comfort ? Can your dili- 
 gence and importunity in all holy employments, wit- 
 ness for you, that you desire the knowledge of God, 
 and labour to walk dutifully and joyfully before 
 him ? 
 
 If you are the new creature, the approving voice 
 of conscience makes answer within you, " This is 
 my study ; herein I have, and do exercise myself;" 
 and you will be adding too, " but I sadly come short 
 herein." This you may. But the inquiry at pre- 
 sent is, whether you are sincerely about this heav- 
 cniy business? And, with a little attention, you 
 will easily see, whether this or the next world doth 
 
bear the sway with you. — What think you of St. 
 Paul ? Doth not every thing you hear of him, his 
 ceaseless labour, his patience in tribulation, his un- 
 daunted boldness, and his unshaken constancy ; doth 
 not all this convince you, beyond suspicion, that he 
 was one of a heavenly disposition, that he lived " by 
 faith and not by sight?" You see St. Paul's 
 course and way, what a general tendency he had 
 towards God: and is yours under the same direc- 
 tion ? are you like-minded with him ? But did you 
 read in his history, that this great apostle was ne- 
 glecting his ministry, and paid little regard to the 
 work upon which he was sent ; did you find, that he 
 had been very earnest to amass wealth ; upon all oc- 
 casions was forward to entertainments and feastings, 
 affected men's favour; wanted nothing so much as 
 his ease, and to be beholden to no one ; that he sel- 
 dom thought of dying, being unwilling to part from 
 the world ? Did you read this of St. Paul, instead 
 of what is told you concerning him, you would take 
 no long time to determine him a man, who, caring 
 not for God, " minded earthly things.'* If what 
 hath been now said of St. Paul may be said of you, 
 I beseech you to judge of yourself, as you would 
 have done of him in like circumstances, and conclude, 
 that since you are not about this new and heavenly 
 business, but have your conversation in a worldly 
 manner, you cannot be the new creature. 
 
 Nor must the formalist pass without notice, the 
 sinner in disguise, who appears like the new crea- 
 ture, seems to be very busy in the work of heaven, 
 is rid of gross sins, and exact in hours and seasons, 
 
128 
 
 in the service of the knee and the mouth; and yet, 
 after all, is a stranger to this new business, hath 
 never entered upon it, nor so much as conceives what 
 it means; foolishly conceiting, that attendance is de- 
 votion, and form is religion. Truly such, whatever 
 show they may have of the new creature, in times of 
 solemnity, and in freedom from scandalous transgres- 
 sions; yet, were the dispositions of their hearts, and 
 their vain and trifling way of life, when the task of 
 boasted duties is not upon their hands, carefully 
 sought out, would be found nothing different from 
 the, seemingly, more careless sinner. If you confine 
 your attendance upon God and your regard to the 
 business of religion, in certain times and places, and 
 are without a customary attention to God in the or- 
 dinary offices of your station, and the employment 
 of your every hour; if, your public or private wor- 
 shippings excepted, you are even as others who slight 
 the solemn assemblies, and spend no time with God 
 in retirements, and yet are civil, courteous, humane 
 and decent; if you can discover betwixt them and 
 yourself no manner of difference in temper and car- 
 riage, they and you seeking the interests of life, gay, 
 and given to vanity, alike; I must entreat you not 
 to mistake yourself for one who is entered upon the 
 heavenly business, and is the new creature. His 
 whole conduct is the very reverse of yours; you re- 
 mark that it is so, and are secretly displeased with 
 that exactness and seeming austerity, which appears 
 to you in all the parts of his demeanour. 
 
 The sura of this is: The new creature, being 
 humbled, lives for the next world — while the care- 
 
129 
 
 less sinner, and, with him, the mistaken formal 
 professor, are without all due feeling to spiritual 
 thino;s, and labour for the life that now is. 
 
 To humility, and making the care of his soul 
 the main business of life, the new creature adds, in 
 the 
 
 Third place, A readiness and certain peculiar 
 forwardness to this spiritual work. We hear often 
 of this readiness. " Put them in mind to be 
 ready to every good work," says St. Paul : and the 
 example of the same apostle will furnish us with in- 
 stances of it. In opposition to the importunity of 
 all his weeping friends, too fondly beseeching him 
 to decline the danger that awaited him at Jerusalem, 
 he says, with a constancy and fortitude which will 
 not yield to any present considerations, " 1 am ready 
 not only to be bound, but to die also for the name 
 of the Lord Jesus." And again, he speaks else- 
 where of his " readiness to preach the gospel at" 
 Home. Our Lord tells us of a readiness of spirit ; 
 and we read more than once of a ready mind. Where 
 this readiness is not, there can be no sincerity, no 
 love, nor heartiness. Would you account that ser- 
 vant faithful and well-aflPected to you, who is back- 
 ward and unready to obey your orders ? You ex- 
 pect the directions you give, should be regarded 
 with a becoming forwardness : it is this qualification 
 which endears to you your dependants, and per- 
 suades you of the regard and affection they bear you. 
 Just so, the new creature is prepared for the service 
 of God. He hath the loins of his mind girt up for 
 the heavenly work. He doth not put off God with 
 F3 
 
130 
 
 promises, as the one son in the gospel, who when 
 sent to labour in the vineyard, said, " I go, Sir, 
 but went not." Nor, like the other, doth he re- 
 fuse present duty, afterwards repenting, and going. 
 He is ready at the call of Providence and duty. 
 Observe him in his course; how naturally he turns 
 from sin and temptation, how easily he falls in with 
 all good works, and all means of grace ! He hath 
 a quick eye to spy out temptation ; seeing danger 
 where a thousand others suspect no harm: and what 
 he finds to be hazardous, he hath no heart to meddle 
 with. He is not apt to hold parley, to cavil and 
 dispute about which course he shall take, when the 
 least thing sinful lies in his way: " he determines 
 immediately, and declines the action at all adven- 
 tures, in despite of persuasion, fear, and all manner 
 of threatening consequences. On the other hand, 
 he makes haste to keep God*s commandments ; he 
 hath his hand and tongue ready for every useful and 
 honourable work, according to his ability; he needs 
 not to be invited to the house of God, nor be called 
 upon to communicate; his heart is in his duty, 
 whether it be to wait upon God in his ordinances, 
 or to serve him in his calling; to benefit the souls, 
 or succour the necessities of his neighbours. In a 
 word, the new creature is a new nature; and what- 
 ever we do naturally, we do readily, and with willing 
 forwardness. Wherefore, if the new nature be in 
 us, we shall be ready to the new work, and in our 
 way to heaven shall be resolutely and briskly carry- 
 ing it on, both in striving against sin within and 
 without us, and in exercising ourselves in all man- 
 
131 
 
 iier of good. If you have thought yourself the new 
 creature hitherto, and have judged that you are 
 humble, and entered upon the business of heaven, 
 see if your conversation be accordingly, if you be 
 ready in this new work. 
 
 But if you have no heart to this work, putting 
 oflp duties to another day, ready to debate which 
 course you shall take, when the danger of reproach, 
 sliarae, or loss, threatens your steadfastness; if you 
 have no edge and keenness to a good work, to use 
 the means of grace, or to distribute out of your 
 abundance; but must be dragged and drawn to such 
 things ; if your ears are dull to a serious discourse, 
 your eyes heavy to discern both the appearances of 
 evil and the opportunities of usefulness, and your 
 feet slow to carry you from what is bad, and yet 
 slower in their motion towards good employments; 
 if you are loitering day after day, and neglecting 
 the heavenly work : if this be your case, whatever 
 you have of freedom from scandalous iniquities, and 
 whatever harmlessness you may have to plead, it 
 will profit you nothing; but you are a "slothful 
 servant," or rather you are a slave ; you are forced 
 to duty, not set upon it of inclination and choice, 
 and cannot be regarded as the new creature. 
 
 Rather, you incline to the way of the careless; 
 but are confined by a little slavish fear, which he is 
 unacquainted with. He, easy, happy man ! how 
 expert and forward is he, to every thing which con- 
 cerns his present interest ! how ready to pleasures ! 
 how at hand for carnal gratification ! Here he 
 joins in at once, without solicitation or entreaty. 
 
132 
 
 Any thing of this is the very joy of his heart: vanity, 
 amusement, wealth, company, and mirth, find him 
 an obedient and most willing servant, ever prepared 
 to wait upon them with a ready and glad attendance. 
 But to do good, to pray, to hear, to speak of a se- 
 rious subject; O what a sluggard he is ! How dull 
 the employment ! how burdensome the task ! how 
 tedious the time ! Truly he is out of his element; 
 he likes it not ; " his soul loatheth this heavenly 
 food." 
 
 You may see now yet more evidently, what I 
 mean by the readiness of the new creature. It is 
 a walking in duty, just as the careless doth in sin ; 
 exactly such a forwardness in heavenly things, as 
 he hath in earthly ; expressly such a backwardness 
 to sin and temptation, as he hath to holiness and 
 the means of grace. It is not barely a saving a 
 man's self from gross iniquity (which is the way of 
 the formalist), but bearing a resolute course against 
 all sin; not only (with the formal) a show of well- 
 doing, but an address, diligence, and heartiness to 
 the heavenly work. 
 
 And yet, to complete the whole of this general 
 character, there must be, 
 
 Fourthly^ A hunger after growth in this heavenly 
 business. I have intimated what this new work is, 
 and hope you understand it to be this: a contention 
 with the power of sin in us; that is, with our lusts 
 or evil dispositions, which are in us by corrupt 
 nature, and have grown strong by custom and com- 
 pliance ; and a like contention also with every fruit 
 of this corruption in our lives, be it great or little. 
 
133 
 
 This light with sin is one part of the work. And 
 the other is, the confirming those new dispositions 
 or tempers which are infused into us by the grace 
 of Christ, when by faith we are united to him ; 
 and which fail not to show themselves in all holy 
 conversation, in the outward carriage. These dis- 
 positions are, in scripture language, called the new 
 heart, or spirit, as being the opposites to the natural 
 frame and disposition of our souls. Now, to grow 
 in this work of mortifying sin, and confirming the 
 power of godliness in the soul, he who is the new 
 creature finds an eager, ceaseless desire. This our 
 Lord himself calls hungering and thirsting; by 
 which he gives us to understand, that as much as 
 the person who is hungry or thirsty longs after and 
 craves the refreshments of meat and drink, even so 
 doth the true Christian desire freedom from sin, 
 and the more perfect renewal of his heart. 
 
 Now, if you are the new creature, you are no 
 stranger to this holy and spiritual hunger and thirst; 
 you are inwardly straitened about your work, till it 
 be finished. Insomuch, that should God give you 
 your heart's desire ; should he bid you, as he did 
 Solomon, " Ask what I shall give thee ;" your an- 
 swer would be, without the least delay or hesitation, 
 " Give me, O God, out of thy bountiful good- 
 ness, that which I would choose, before the hon- 
 ours of a thousand worlds. Give me a heart free 
 from sin, that I may never more offend thee ! De- 
 liver me from the remainders of corruption that 
 dwell in me ; mortify all the pride, worldliness, and 
 lust, which still defile my soul ; bring every thought 
 
134 
 
 into subjection ; yea, deliver me from the whole 
 body of sin. But especially, O my God, kill and 
 destroy my peculiar corruption, that malicious ene- 
 my I carry in my heart, whicli cruelly enslaves, and 
 still obstinately besets me ; consume, and cause it 
 to perish utterly. And, heavenly Father, since 
 thou hast made me bold to speak before thee, I will 
 require at thy hand such a spirit as thou wilt de- 
 light in. O fill my heart with love towards thee ; 
 Avith submission, dutifulness, zeal for thy glory, and 
 every other disposition which can render me fit for 
 thy service here, and for thy presence for ever." 
 Say now, doth your heart cry Amen to this peti- 
 tion ? If not, you are no new creature. And if 
 you are the new creature, your most fervent, con- 
 stant request, before the throne of grace, is this 
 very thing ; that God, by his grace, will free you 
 more and more from the power of sin, and promote 
 in you the power of godliness, so fitting you con- 
 tinually for his presence and everlasting kingdom. 
 For, you know, God hath bid you ask this, and 
 hath promised to grant it. Most expressly doth he 
 give us confidence, that our requests for the renew- 
 ing influences of the Spirit shall assuredly be heard, 
 through whose merits we may approach God with 
 boldness : *' Your heavenly Father will give the 
 Holy Spirit to them that ask." Do you ask this, 
 therefore, with an unwearied importunity, looking 
 that your suit be granted ? You do not indeed 
 " hunger and thirst after righteousness," if you do 
 not thus importunately ask it, or are content and 
 satisfied, when you see not that you receive growth 
 
135 
 
 in it. Doth, then, a desire of growth in grace 
 make you cUHgently to pray ? And doth prayer 
 keep up, and improve watchfuhiess against sin, and 
 a desire to please God, upon your heart ? These 
 are the immediate fruits of prayer ; and if this 
 frame of mind grows upon you, you may be sure 
 that the power of godhness is springing up under 
 it. Without such prayer, and seeking such fruits 
 from it, you may not judge tliat you have the spiri- 
 tual hunger and thirst, nor, consequently, are the 
 new creature. 
 
 But, do you seem to yourself to be well enough 
 already? Are you satisfied with your present mea- 
 sure ? Are you in a way wherein you think you 
 need not growth in this new work ? And are you 
 without hearty desires of improvement therein ? 
 Do months and years pass over you, find and leave 
 you at the same stand in religion, and yet you are 
 well content with yourself? I must be free to as- 
 sure you, you are quite out of the way. You never 
 humbly and heartily entered upon the Christian 
 business; or, if you did seemingly run a little, you 
 have been hindered ; you have this day no life in 
 you ; like a dead man, you have lost your appetite ; 
 and^ whatever you may seem, you are but a formal 
 professor. For see you not, that a constant, ear- 
 nest desire and endeavour to carry onward the work, 
 the whole work of righteousness; see you not, that 
 such a desire and endeavour to get above every sin, 
 and to grow in every grace, is as evidently the effect 
 of a truly humbled, renewed, and heavenly mind, 
 as a desire and endeavour to amass wealth, is the 
 
136 
 
 effect of covetousness ? He is not covetous, who, 
 content with what he. hath, desires not, nor labours 
 to be rich; nor are you a new creature, who, resting 
 upon the present stock of hoHness, conceive you have 
 attained, and are not soUcitous for more. 
 
 But, observe now the hunger of the careless sin- 
 ner; and surely the desire of the formalist is like 
 his ! He hungers not for righteousness, but for 
 indulgence, wealth, honour; all his appetite is for 
 some earthly thing. And the more he enjoys it, 
 the keener he grows upon it, still running farther 
 from God, daily filHng up the measure of his ini- 
 quities, and heating the furnace of God's wrath yet 
 hotter against him. 
 
 What hath been said, may serve, it is hoped, to 
 give some general notion of the new creature's char- 
 acter; and this with the more distinction and use- 
 fulness, as it hath been set in opposition to the char- 
 acter of the careless sinner, and separated and distin- 
 guished from the false show of the formalist. 
 
 And for the present, we will part with this short 
 observation, that these two characters (for in reality 
 they are no more,) have a directly different tenden- 
 cy. The one of them leads upward, every thing 
 draws towards heaven : in that, all the views and 
 pursuits centre, and in that it will gloriously issue. 
 The other is altogether earthly, and bent down- 
 wards. And where will that end ? O, ye too 
 easy wretches, would God ye might lay it to heart ! 
 If God be true, it will assuredly end in eternal 
 damnation ! 
 
SERMON VI. 
 
 THE BELIEVER A NEW CREATURE. 
 
 2 Cor. v. 17. 
 
 If any man be in Christ, he is a new creature. 
 
 I AM willing to hope, that what hath been generally 
 advanced in the former sermon, upon the character 
 of the new creature, hath served to show you its 
 peculiar and spiritual way and manner, and also ex- 
 cited a becoming importunity to see it more perfectly 
 and exactly drawn, to the end, that with more atten- 
 tion you may trace out its features, and discover 
 with greater certainty, if the lineaments of it are to 
 be found upon your soul. 
 
 Let us follow then the strong and very visible 
 lines, in which the Scripture paints this man of 
 Christ, within and without. And, 
 
 First, Let me lay open to your view the state of 
 his mind. — Now the soul of man hath, especially, 
 three more eminent powers or faculties — understand- 
 ing, will, and affections: the offices of which are; 
 that of the understanding, to think, apprehend, and 
 judge of the things which lie within our reach; that 
 
138 
 
 of the will, to determine and choose what hath ap- 
 peared to be good and eligible in the decision of the 
 understanding; and the business of the affections is, 
 to spur and quicken us, both to judge and choose, 
 and also to carry our determinations into action. 
 Now, through the fall, ail these are put into dis- 
 order, or rather are drawn a wrong way. They are 
 not indeed destroyed, but they are corrupted: they 
 remain the same powers they were before, though 
 turned, as to their disposition and employment, to 
 the most base and dishonourable uses. As to spi- 
 ritual things, the principal of which are, the ever 
 blessed God, and the happiness of communion with 
 him, which are the proper objects for a reasonable 
 soul to lay itself out upon; as to these, there is a 
 blindness and darkness in our understandings; we 
 know them not, nor feel the weight of them with any 
 suitable impression, nor care to busy our thoughts 
 about them; while the things of sense do very na- 
 turally and easily engage our thoughts, and carry 
 away our attention. In consequence of this, the 
 will is directed, on the one hand, to refuse spiritual, 
 and on the other, to choose visible things. And so, 
 of course, our affections are engaged in pushing us 
 on to pursue such present things only, as the blind 
 judgment proposes to us, and the perverted will fixes 
 upon us. The understanding of the natural man is an 
 ill guide; it performs not its office aright, doth not dis- 
 cover where true happiness lies ; but, in determining 
 thereon, blindly decides for the present life, and 
 sensual gratifications. The will, in consequence, 
 chooses that which the understanding represents to 
 
139 
 
 it as good, and sits down intent upon enjoyments, 
 which are merely of a worldly or bodily nature : 
 upon which the affections, the faithful servants of 
 these higher powers, bestir the whole man indus- 
 triously to reach after those mistaken, deceitful gra- 
 tifications, which the blind judgment hath approved, 
 and the seduced will hath made its choice. Hence 
 it is, that we find in us such a deadness either to see 
 or feel spiritual things, and such a drawing towards 
 the things about us, even when the soul is renewed, 
 and these powers of it turned the right way. When 
 the understanding is enlightened with the knowledge 
 of God, the will chooses him as the chiefest good, 
 and the affections force us with an holy importunity 
 towards him. Corrupt nature still makes opposition, 
 and, like a strong tide setting against the rower, 
 checks the freedom of our way, nor will suffer us to 
 gain any ground, but by incessant labour. Thus it 
 is at best; while the violence of this stream of cor- 
 ruption bears the generality of mankind down along 
 with it. From submission to this, arises that strange 
 forgetfulness of spiritual things, that deplorable dis- 
 regard of eternal interests, that living without God, 
 so common in the world ; whilst every faculty of the 
 soul is warmly engaged in the pursuits of sense, even 
 so as to mind them only, and day by day grows 
 more confirmed in aversion to God, and sinks faster 
 and deeper into carnality. 
 
 Such is the state, and such are the consequences 
 of the corruption of man's nature; thus are the 
 powers of our souls perverted and abused. But the 
 new creature hath, in some measure, recovered the 
 
140 
 
 right use of all these faculties, and, by the operation 
 of divine grace, they are restored to their proper 
 offices : God is known, and chosen, and sought after 
 with earnestness. Thus much in general. I come 
 now to be more plain and particular, and to show 
 you the new creature in the apprehensions of his un- 
 derstanding, in the choice of his will, and in the ex- 
 ercise of his affections. 
 
 1. The understanding of the new creature hath a 
 peculiar and different apprehension, and forms ano- 
 ther sort of judgment concerning all things, from 
 what the careless sinner, or the deluded formalist 
 hath, or is apt to do. " The natural man," saith 
 St. Paul, *' receiveth not the things of the Spirit of 
 God, for they are foolishness unto him: neither can 
 he know them, because they are spiritually discerned. 
 But he that is spiritual, judgeth," or discerneth *' all 
 things.*' There is a spirituality, an humble and 
 heavenly tincture, in all the apprehensions of the 
 new creature: whereas there is a carnal turn, self- 
 sufHciency and earthliness, in those of the natural 
 man, whether he be formal or careless. We will 
 illustrate this in some particulars. 
 
 With regard to the perfections and presence of 
 the blessed God. — The new creature is possessed 
 with an awful apprehension of the majesty of God, 
 sees and heartily approves the eternal power and in- 
 finite wisdom, by which the mighty Lord ruleth over 
 all; considers him, in supreme sovereignty, lifting up 
 the sword of unavoidable and exact justice over the 
 universe, to constrain, and pouring out with a bound- 
 less, gracious hand, blessings and happiness, to re- 
 
141 
 
 ward obedience. He beholds, and acquiesces, and 
 his soul cries witliin him, " Worthy art thou, O 
 God, to reign ! Thou almighty King, I tremble 
 and rejoice before thee !" The goodness and mer- 
 cifulness of God, he regards with inexpressible ap- 
 probation: goodness, willing to make happy, and 
 mercy, sparing to consume a world of rebels; mercy 
 pardoning, and goodness embracing returning apos- 
 tates. Such tender, such divine love, what senti- 
 ments of delight and gratitude doth it raise within 
 him ! While he views the patience of God, the 
 wonderful scene of forbearance which he sees daily 
 exercised towards sinful creatures; beholding how 
 God is provoked every day; how the insolence of 
 transgressors calls down vengeance; and yet, how 
 God sits and considers it with a majestic serenity 
 and composure, and with an immoveable dignity en- 
 dures it; nor with the besom of destruction sweeps 
 at once into hell the whole race of evil doers; — 
 covered with shame, for the hardness of himself and 
 others, all his soul stands amazed, and magnifies the 
 mysterious, incomprehensible God. But that which 
 brings all his views of God home to him, is his pe- 
 culiar apprehension of the divine presence — He sees 
 him, who is invisible; sees him, filling all things; 
 finds himself naked and open to God's eye, encom- 
 passed by him behind and before, the very secrets of 
 his heart unfolded to him. Nor does he draw back 
 from God ; he rejoices in God's presence with him, 
 and is careful above all things to improve it. It is 
 his only consolation, that God is near him; a Being 
 so gracious, and mighty, and good, so able and wil- 
 
142 
 
 ling to cure all his diseases, and to sooth and sanctify 
 all his griefs. 
 
 The apprehensions of the new creature concern- 
 ing God are (you must not omit to observe) all hum- 
 ble; there is a mixture of the dependant, the sinner, 
 the child of God, and the expectant of glory, which 
 ffoes with them. 
 
 But the natural man, whether he in a manner for* 
 gets God, or hath some show of acquaintance with 
 him, yet is altogether a stranger to such humble and 
 becoming apprehensions of the divine majesty, good- 
 ness, patience and presence. 
 
 The careless sinner, you know, hath set up his 
 idols in his heart; vanity, interest, and lust, are the 
 gods he serves. Upon these he is dependent, and 
 from the gratifications of them he expects all his hap- 
 piness. Hence the God of heaven is excluded: not 
 that he hath no apprehension of him at all ; alas! he 
 is sometimes so apprehensive of his power, majesty, 
 and universal eye, that he cannot be easy and at 
 peace. An apprehension he hath of God's domi- 
 nion; he cannot gainsay the too evident truth, but 
 he secretly disapproves it, he trembles at the thought, 
 and wishes from his inmost soul there were no such 
 Being to control and trouble him. An apprehen- 
 sion he hath too of God's goodness and merciful- 
 ness ; but how unrelenting and impious the conclu- 
 sion he would needs draw from it, while from hence 
 he takes to himself a freedom and license to commit 
 and continue in sin, instead of melting into shame 
 and sorrow upon the thought and remembrance of 
 abused goodness and slighted mercy ! Just so also 
 
143 
 
 he apprehends of God's patience : because God de- 
 lays to strike, and avenge himself, he sets his " heart 
 fully to do evil;" every way labouring to " turn the 
 grace of God into licentiousness," and taking occa- 
 sion from the very perfections of God, to harden him- 
 self in sinning against him. Horrible imagination ! 
 You would not thus deal with God, you verily 
 judge ! But by far the most of you do, even every 
 one among you that abideth in known sin. Look 
 to it : you shall find that I have spoken the very de- 
 sires which have passed through your heart, and pos- 
 sessed themselves of you, although, through the 
 wantonness of your ways, and almost total forgetful- 
 ness of God, you may not have noted them. In- 
 deed, how should you note them, while you have so 
 little apprehension of God's presence, that you live 
 without him in the world, disengaged from all 
 thought of his nearness to you, unless when un- 
 avoidably you must reflect a moment, that " there is 
 a God that judgeth in the earth;" when either you 
 are in a way of hearing his threatenings, or are suf- 
 fering his corrections, or are made to see his provi- 
 dences? 
 
 Nor are the apprehensions of the formal professor 
 any thing different from yours, concerning the per- 
 fections and presence of God. A speculative, and 
 (if I may so call it) a traditionary knowledge of 
 God, a conformity to modes of worship and the ex- 
 ternals of religion, may make a man strangely to 
 mistake himself; and he may be ready to take it for 
 granted, that all is well, though there be in truth 
 nothing of humility in all the apprehensions which 
 
144 
 
 he hath of God. You are often upon your knees I 
 allow: but had you not rather (might it so be) that 
 you were left to your own government and direction, 
 to do as yourself should please, and, it may be, to be 
 secure of an eternal possession in the gratifications of 
 this life, entirely your own master, and disengaged 
 from the submission, w^hich now you see you must 
 of force pay to God? Is there not somewhat in this 
 proposal with which you could heartily acquiesce? 
 And if so, what avails it that you pay God never so 
 many compliments ? Still you are the very reverse 
 from the new creature, in your apprehensions about 
 the divine Majesty. And so also, though you may 
 talk never so finely and never so frequently of God's 
 goodness and mercifulness, yet hath not the one or 
 the other twilight you to loathe yourself for your ini- 
 quities, and your heart to rise against sin with a sin- 
 cere and loyal indignation. Just the contrary; sin 
 and you are well reconciled, and you would as wil- 
 lingly continue in the practice of it, as the careless 
 and more easy sinner, were you not afraid. The 
 patience of God hath neither wrought with him nor 
 you, to lament your hardness and impenitency under 
 it : but, insensible to God's forbearance, you are pre- 
 sumptuous, and he is secure. The apprehension 
 you have of God's presence with you, hath no de- 
 light in it : you know not what communion with 
 God means; and the reflection that God is near, 
 while it troubles and terrifies the careless, doth not 
 please you. In a word, the only difference between 
 you in this respect is, that formality hath blinded 
 you, and lust hath hardened him : both of you un- 
 
145 
 
 humbled ; he hates God, and flies from him ; you 
 dread God, and pay liim a forced attention. His 
 apprehensions of God are full of dislike and terror ; 
 and yours are without love and reverence. 
 
 There is then, you see, the widest difference be- 
 tween the new creature and the natural man, in 
 their apprehensions of God himself. The appre- 
 hensions of the new creature are peculiar to him ; 
 and the like peculiarity is observable in his judgment 
 of all other things. We will endeavour to set out 
 a few of them in one view. 
 
 With regard to Christ, The new creature 
 judges him to be " the way, the truth, and the 
 life;" admires his power and ability to save; views 
 and reviews, with secret satisfaction, the victories he 
 hath gained for man upon earth, and the gifts and 
 graces he now dispenses from his throne in heaven ; 
 considers him as the Lord of all things, and author 
 of everlasting salvation ; and knowing the utter 
 want he has of such a Teacher, Saviour, and Lord, 
 fixes his eye upon him with loyal and complacent 
 regard. With full persuasion of Christ's fitness 
 every way to effect the deliverance of fallen man, 
 his soul is drawn unto him, and cries out, " My 
 Lord, and my God !" 
 
 With regard to the Spirit. Aware of the per- 
 verse inclination of his nature, and convinced of his 
 own insufficiency, to attain the least measure of that 
 purity of heart, which shall lead him to the sight of 
 God, he apprehends the need he has of this divine 
 illuminator, guide, and comforter; regards him as 
 the Lord and giver of life ; approves, with wonder 
 
 G 19 
 
146 
 
 and thankfulness, his unseen agency upon the souls 
 of men ; admires his fitness for these offices, as 
 God ; and blesses his condescension, that he should 
 prepare himself a temple in the hearts of his polluted 
 creatures. 
 
 With regard to sin. Looking upon the blessed 
 God, he judges of it, as that which defiles his ma- 
 jesty, and would dare to attempt his throne; as 
 what perverts all the gracious contrivances of infi- 
 nite wisdom, neither suffering the Maker to inherit 
 his glory, nor the thing made, to prosper and be 
 happy : he sees divine purity abominating it, and 
 divine goodness abused by it; justice most right- 
 eously lighting upon it with inexorable vengeance, 
 and mercy, only infinite, capable of forgiving it. 
 He sees a troop of the most deformed monsters 
 couched under every act of sin ; insolent rebellion, 
 stupid insensibility, stubborn undutifulness, forget- 
 ful insi'atitude, and odious defilement. He sees 
 misery following upon its heels; and acknowledges 
 how equitable God is in all the present and ap- 
 proaching ills, which either now attend, or hereafter 
 await it. He views it with self-reproach, nor can 
 express the loathsome sight he is in his own eyes. 
 
 With reo-ard to GocFs laxv. The new creature 
 reads therein the undoubted duty of man to God ; 
 approves the purity of soul it enjoins ; and there- 
 fore, that likeness of God it would restore the 
 heart to ; admires it, because it is strict and exalt- 
 ed ; nor could like it so well, were any thing of 
 what others esteem severity remitted. Just as it is, 
 and because it is holy, just, and good, he loves it; 
 
147 
 
 nor can he think without the highest complacency, 
 ^ of the dignity to which he shall be advanced, when 
 he shall fully be transformed into it. 
 
 With regard to Providence. Not only in God's 
 visible and magnificent works, which gloriously dis- 
 play to him the divine wisdom and power; nor, 
 again, in those tremendous and mysterious ways 
 by which God hath directed all things, from gene- 
 ration to generation; not only in these general ma- 
 nifestations doth he acknowledge God, but with a 
 peculiar and submissive regard doth he observe God 
 in the particular and fatherly government which is 
 exercised towards himself. He owns his hand in 
 the visitations both of chastisement and prosperity, 
 seeing love in them both. He is convinced, that 
 his soul is God's especial care ; while, with grateful 
 wonder, he reflects upon God's forbearance and gen- 
 tleness towards him ; the wise and strange means 
 and contrivances God hath used vvith him ; the kind 
 disappointments, and most inviting encouragements, 
 he hath met with from him ; in a word, the long 
 and watchful discipline, which an affectionate Provi- 
 dence hath exercised upon him. 
 
 With regard to death. He reverences it, be- 
 cause it is the sentence of the Most High against a 
 rebellious world; and yet he acquiesces in it, as the 
 messenger of life and liberty. He pays a so- 
 lemn and steadfast attention to it ; neither seeing 
 it advancing upon him with fright nor unconcern. 
 The thought of it is near, and abides with deep im- 
 pression upon his mind. He wishes to be more re- 
 conciled to it ; yea, even to long for its approach. 
 G2 
 
148 
 
 Meantime, he lives in the sight and expectation of 
 this decisive event, advised of its uncertainty, but 
 assured that by and by he shall be brought to " the 
 house appointed for all living." As every advanc- 
 ing day brings it nearer, he feels the impression 
 more interesting, important, and abiding ; he feels 
 time grow more valuable, and life becoming contin- 
 ually more vain. 
 
 With regard to heaven. " Blessed region !" 
 all his soul cries within him ; " Peaceful dwelling ! 
 where all the family of love meet and abide; where 
 God, the tender Father reigns, pleased at the joy 
 and happiness he gives to his sons and daugh- 
 ters ; where Christ, the well-beloved Son, the 
 kindest master, the dearest brother, deHghts him- 
 self in his elect ; where ever-faithful angels wor- 
 ship ; and saints, saved and restored, for ever sing 
 their grateful praises. Eternal house ! which time 
 shall not destroy ; whose foundations are the im- 
 moveable perfections of the God that changeth not ! 
 Valuable treasure ! which neither moth can cor- 
 rupt, nor thief steal ! Pleasure satisfying to the 
 fullest tides of joy, and yet delighting still, as if 
 never tasted !" Thus he cries, in the views of 
 heaven ; and all else, with him, is avowed vanity. 
 Defect, decay, uncertainty, and unfitness, are evi- 
 dently stamped upon all earthly grandeur, wealth, 
 and pleasure, in his apprehensions of them ; since he 
 is grown ambitious of a perfect, enduring, uninter- 
 rupted, noble, and reasonable happiness, which God 
 hath in store for them that love him. 
 
 With regard to hell also. Hell, the place pro- 
 
149 
 
 vided by infinite justice for sinners; the punishment, 
 which a righteous vengeance hath prepared; the 
 wages of sin, and the very consequence of it ! This 
 state of darkness and misery he regards with a con- 
 tinual and confirmed abhorrence, and learns, from 
 the sight he has of its horrors, more devoutly to hate 
 that sin, which forces the Father of mercies so fear- 
 fully to correct, so infinitely to punish his own crea- 
 tures. He sees it, and suspects his steps, lest they 
 have any tendency towards it; he views giddy mul- 
 titudes dancing gaily upon the brink of it, and trem- 
 bles at the horrible view. 
 
 Finally, with regard to eternity. What won- 
 drous depths of being doth he find in this one word! 
 Ten thousand ages are just nothing in comparison; 
 and when exerting all his powers to reach after it, 
 he adds ten million more, and doubles and redoubles 
 the account: still he finds that he advances not, and 
 sinks under the vast and cumbrous thought. Full 
 of this impression, he is either pleased or trembles, 
 as he sees or suspects his title to happiness therein; 
 the days of man are shrunk into the abidance of a 
 moment, into the remembrance of yesterday that is 
 past ; and with a pilgrim's hasty unaffected eye, he 
 regards the things of this life. 
 
 Such as these are the apprehensions of the new 
 creature about these important things: in this man- 
 ner he judges of them. Possibly thou hast never 
 made such reflections upon thyself, and many of these 
 thoughts may be new to thee: but, if heartily thou 
 dost consent to them, now they are told thee ; if it 
 be in this humble way that thou judgest of the con- 
 
150 
 
 cerns of God and thy soul, as far as thou knowest 
 them, this is the proof that thou art the new crea- 
 ture. Apply this description of the renewed under- 
 standing to thy heart; and if thou canst answer, 
 _" Thus and thus I judge; you have opened to me 
 views with which 1 readily agree; they correspond 
 with the temper and tone of my soul, which relishes, 
 and is in harmony with such kind of apprehending;" 
 trouble yourself no farther; it is well with your soul. 
 Neither the formal nor the careless can join with you 
 in any, the least of all these things. 
 
 Say, ye formal professors, who seem to be the 
 servants of God, and are not; whose attendance upon 
 hours and places of devotion with scrupulous dili- 
 gence, bespeaks, it were to be imagined, the deepest 
 impression of these spiritual things abiding upon 
 your souls: say, do you judge in this manner? Alas! 
 all your apprehensions are but speculative and cu- 
 rious; a knowledge puffing you up; a judgment light 
 and unsettled, and which bears no prevailing influ- 
 ence in the heart. Your views of all these things 
 are without due reverence; and you set up a title to 
 them which is not founded in humiliation, but pride. 
 You know Jesus to be the Son of God; that he 
 came forth from the bosom of his Father, and is 
 gone unto him again : but you regard, you speak, 
 you think of him with an heart unacquainted with 
 the endearments of gratitude, and unsubdued by the 
 profusion of his redeeming love. You know that 
 he was upon earth, and is now in heaven; but judg- 
 ing not that your sins have brought ruin upon your 
 head, which you cannot escape but by betaking 
 
151 
 
 yourself to his protection, you read of him with in- 
 difference, and hold no daily intercourse with him, 
 as the very life and food of your soul.^ — You will be 
 talking, I know, of grace, and sanctification through 
 the Spirit; will be taking up the words of the new 
 creature; and entreating, as it would seem, that the 
 grace of God might be with you always ; that God 
 would not withhold or take the Holy Spirit from 
 you. However you have not discovered the corrup- 
 tion of your own heart; how far removed your soul 
 is from God and holiness ; you know not therefore 
 your wants and your weakness : ready in your own 
 strength to encounter all opposition, because you are 
 ignorant of the power of sin, which dwells and reio^ns 
 within you; and therefore you do but call upon the 
 Spirit, to give you the strength which you do not 
 perceive you need, to heal the diseases of your soul, 
 which you do not complain, nor feel the pain and the 
 burden of. And see then, what vain and unsettled 
 apprehensions you have of this divine Author and 
 Giver of all light, and love, and comfort. And how 
 is it you judge of sin? You disdain scandalous 
 vices; cannot endure knavery, drunkenness, or lewd- 
 ness. But even these you abhor but from custom, 
 and the judgment of the world. Do you hate sin, 
 because God doth; because of the dishonour it 
 brings upon his government; because of its ingrati- 
 tude and real filthiness, in the presence of a gracious 
 Father, and pure God? Do you hate every sin? 
 the pride, stubbornness, and unbelief of your own 
 heart, as well as the gross sins of others you are so 
 continually crying out upon ? Alas ! all your judg- 
 
152 
 
 meiit concerning sin is but worldly, outward, and 
 respecting others: your own transgressions you can 
 pass over lightly, count little of them ; and be well 
 content if you can force a tear, in the remembrance 
 of some blacker passages of your life, when the de- 
 cency of some more solemn action would seem to 
 demand it from you. — Would you choose God's 
 law, if you might avoid it? Do you not take of- 
 fence at it? Are you not willing to believe it is 
 not so strict and exact, as yet you cannot but sus- 
 pect it to be? You should have more room and in- 
 dulgence given you; cannot digest the nicety and 
 exactness it enjoins; would prefer a religion that 
 was more easy, which would not require so much 
 attendance. You regard God's law with a certain 
 secret aversion to it, and all the obedience you pay 
 it, is against the grain. — The providence of God; 
 have you a discerning eye to search it out, or a quiet 
 mind to submit to it? You can talk of it, I know; 
 you can condemn others, when resignedly they bear 
 not correction and disappointment: but when the 
 matter is your own, then the case differs. Then 
 you can murmur and complain, rely upon your own 
 prudence, or trust upon man for help; as if you be- 
 lieved not, that God ordereth all things about you. 
 You know, in a certain way, that all creatures wait 
 upon God, and that he distributes his blessings to 
 them, as he will, out of the storehouse of his bound- 
 less goodness and fatherly care: but you are not apt 
 to observe his dispensations, and in your own parti- 
 cular find no complacency and security of soul, that 
 he condescends to guide you. Just the contrary; 
 
153 
 
 his daily bounties, and the more extraordinary in- 
 terpositions of his love, come down upon you unob- 
 served: and, when you are afflicted, you acknowledge 
 not his hand; restless till you are delivered, and 
 murmuring because you are stricken. — You can 
 talk too of death: but you care not to think of it, to 
 bring it near, to live in the constant expectation of 
 it. It weighs with you so liglitly, that you can fol- 
 low one and another to the grave, and yet retain the 
 confidence of life: or if for a moment you see your- 
 self as within the reach of death, yet, by and by, the 
 frightful monster disappears, and troubles you no 
 more. — You can talk of heaven also: but you have 
 not explored the distant country; the glories of it, 
 the joys at God's right hand, are unknown to and 
 untested by you. When you hear of heaven, as the 
 seat of blessedness, you cannot but desire that some 
 day you may have your place there; because you 
 cannot but wish to be happy, (as who does not?) 
 However, you find yourself in no manner of haste 
 to be gone to this better country; nor, with all your 
 uniformity of worship, have you once laboured after 
 those dispositions of mind, and that spiritual attire, 
 which becomes the company and the business of 
 heaven. The best apprehension you have of hea- 
 ven is, that it is a state you would possess, when 
 you have done with the world; and which therefore 
 you take up in your thoughts, when you have no 
 other employment. — And what is your judgment of 
 hell? You judge it terrible: but do you also judge 
 it just; no more than the due recompense of sin? 
 Have you judged it the just wages of any sins your- 
 G 3 
 
154 
 
 self have committed? Look well to it; you may 
 perhaps find, that you only suspect its reality ; that 
 you have but a faint apprehension of its horrors; 
 that, to say the utmost of your judgment about it, 
 you regard it only as the wages of gross and notori- 
 ous sinners, while such as you have done nothing to 
 merit it. The view of hell hath not taught you the 
 sinfulness of sin : wherefore, regarding your own 
 iniquities with a superficial and favourable eye, you 
 have never yet learned to fear the vengeance of 
 God, proclaimed against all manner of transgressions 
 against his Divine Majesty.-— And eternity, that 
 awful endless state of being; doth it not pass before 
 your mind like an airy form, scarcely gain remem- 
 brance there, like a dream in the night? Your ap- 
 prehension of it is so unsubstantial, that the impres- 
 sion it makes vanishes as soon as it appears ; and you 
 remain in gay security, as if there were no such 
 state : your days go forward, and you draw nearer 
 to the wonderful abyss, and yet, approaching as it 
 is, you regard it with the same cold stupidity; nor 
 doth it gain any influence to weigh prevailingly in 
 the soul. 
 
 Speak the truth now : — With all the show of 
 religion you are so vain of, are you not a very trifler 
 with God and your soul ; rather playing with them, 
 than acting with any sense and meaning? Surely 
 your judgment is so vain, slight and momentary, in 
 the greatest matters of salvation, that you must be 
 said to apprehend them, as if you apprehended them 
 not. 
 
 The careless sinner is more consistent ; he doth 
 
155 
 
 not pretend to what he is not. He knows all this 
 just as you do; thinks of these things too, when he 
 cannot avoid it; and the reflection dismays him while 
 it lasts; nor can he be at rest, but while security, 
 interest, and pleasure keep it at a distance. The 
 careless sinner is a downright natural man; nor doth 
 he labour to cheat himself, or to deceive others, 
 into an opinion that he is one who minds the things 
 of God and salvation. If God will save him just 
 as he is, it is well; and some day or other he shall 
 be at leisure to thank him ; but, for the present, 
 he hath too high and lively apprehensions of the 
 things about him, to conceive any great apprehen- 
 sion of what is absent and unseen. He knows 
 Christ to be the son of God, and the Saviour of 
 men : but Christ offers him nothing which suits his 
 palate. His expectation and hope spring from car- 
 nal joys and present interests; and since Christ 
 leads him not to these, he must be forgotten. He 
 sees not how the Holy Spirit should give hirxi 
 worldly ease, peace, and gratification : it is not sin 
 which he dreads, but misery ; the disappointment, 
 cross, and injury of the day. His own will and 
 pleasure is his rule; and self-gratification extin- 
 guishes all manner of attention to the law, the plea- 
 sure, and will of God. Providence he never thinks 
 of; so carried on is he in a scene of contrivances, 
 to prevent misfortune, to purchase wealth, or in- 
 dulge pleasure. He has no time to think of death, 
 amidst the hurry of business, or the entertainments 
 of company and recreation. Heaven must be minded 
 at another season; when the projects of life shall 
 have been completed. Hell can weigh but little 
 
156 
 
 with him ; seeing the great evils he feels and fears, 
 are the frowns of men, the damage of his fortune, 
 and the disappointment of his pleasure. He cannot 
 look into eternity; some object of sense ever catches 
 his eye, and engages his attention. He is not, 
 you find, entirely without understanding : but the 
 apprehensions of the things of this life outweigh 
 the other, and leave them out of sight. His heart 
 unhumbled and unbroken, he promises himself hap- 
 piness upon earth ; and, however unjustly, con- 
 ceives that the increase of wealth, advancement of 
 station, the well-spread table, and all things at his 
 command, will render him happy. Under these 
 deceitful apprehensions he lives ; looks no farther; 
 nor feels the importance of spiritual and eternal in- 
 terests, but with a secondary impression, with a 
 weak and vanishing influence. 
 
 Thus now you may be able to discover what kind 
 of apprehension in all things the new creature is 
 possessed with, and how different it is from the 
 judgment of the natural man, whether formal or 
 careless. You see his apprehensions are humble, 
 near, and I must add, enduring: for enduring they 
 must be; not a sudden heat, caught up upon occa- 
 sions, seeing these apprehensions are the very prin- 
 ciples which direct the whole course of the new 
 creature, determining his choice, and influencing 
 his hopes and fears. There is the widest difference, 
 you find, between the practical judgment of the re- 
 newed understanding, and the cold speculative ap- 
 prehension of the unrenewed : this apprehends all 
 the things which concern salvation, dryly and curi- 
 
157 
 
 ously; that, humbly and awfully. Their appre- 
 hension differs, like that of two men about a storm, 
 one of whom was securely looking at it from a cliff, 
 and the other tossing in it, and anxious for safety. 
 
 But possibly it may serve yet more evidently to 
 evince this difference, if you have an illustration of 
 the whole in one view. See then under which of 
 the following descriptions you are ranged; which of 
 the words with which I conclude, most aptly repre- 
 sents your judgment and apprehension. 
 
 The careless sinner takes up his word, and says, 
 " Ah ! that my lot were fallen to me in a fairer 
 ground; that 1 were not entangled by the cares, nor 
 encumbered under the toils of life ! How happy 
 would my situation be, had I wealth that would 
 afford me ease and honours, that would bring me 
 independence and respect ! What wouldst thou 
 more, my soul, than, disengaged from care, to 
 enjoy thy chosen friends, to cover thy table with 
 plenty, to bring forth the choice wines, and to re- 
 joice over thy labours? What wouldst thou more, 
 than that the beholders reckon thee the happy man; 
 who, gotten above fear and want, nor needeth the 
 help of others, canst follow thine own will, and 
 pass thy days at thy heart's content; no impertinence 
 meeting thee, no vexation thwarting thee, no plea- 
 sure unsatisfied, no wish unanswered ? It is in- 
 tolerable, the insolence of oppressive greatness, the 
 slavery of business without end, and the w^ant of 
 time for quiet, freedom, and friendship. When 
 will it be that I shall be set at liberty? When will 
 the rising days find me void of the anxious thoughts 
 
158 
 
 which now meet my openhig eye-Hds; and when 
 the nights close upon me undisturbed, and sur- 
 rounded with the cheerful voice of satisfaction and 
 grateful society ''^ Then adieu carefulness, we will 
 eat and drink and be merry; joy shall wait upon our 
 steps, ease abide in the dwelHng, and happiness and 
 contentment shall seat themselves upon our breasts: 
 independence, wealth, and ease, ye that alone make 
 life a blessing, when shall I be satisfied with you?" 
 But, " What!" replies the Christian, ''are 
 these the joys of man; this the greatest happiness 
 thy soul desireth ? Thou fool and blind ! these 
 are pleasures, which satisfy not; these are treasures, 
 which perish ; these are vanities, which the wind 
 carrieth away. Had I no better things in prospect 
 than what ye can afford, ye highest earthly gratifi- 
 cations, scarcely could I be content to live! Away 
 from me, ye trifles ! I relish you not, since my eyes 
 are opened, and the things vvhich are not seen, are 
 presented unto me. Alas ! how lightly did I once 
 think of those awful concerns that now possess my 
 soul with wonder, and rise upon my mind with 
 growing importance, as I consider them with nearer 
 attention ! — now. Lord ! I stand naked before thee; 
 the creature of that power, wisdom, and goodness, 
 by which all things in heaven and earth are, and in 
 respect of which, both earth and heaven are but as 
 the dust of the balance. How is it that I stand in 
 the presence of thy majesty, holden as I have been 
 with so many rebellions, and debased as I am with 
 so much impurity ? But thou, injured, patient 
 God ! thou wondrous abyss of mercy and forbear- 
 
[59 
 
 ance ! I can no more endure the thought of being 
 separated from thy all-gracious presence and favour. 
 Thy nearness to me, this alone can be my joy, my 
 consolation; this the only protection I can hide my- 
 self under; this the blessedness which must feed 
 my soul with delight. But what am I, that I 
 should presume to approach unto the Lord, who am 
 but dust and ashes? It is through thy all-sufficient 
 name, thou mighty Jesus, that I can make bold to 
 rejoice in God, my Lord, and my portion. Thou, 
 most loving Redeemer, hast stood between me and 
 vengeance; thou hast prepared the way for me to 
 thy Father and mine. Ah ! what bounties do I 
 this day enjoy at thy hand ! By thee I live, and 
 through thy Spirit I hope. Lie whom thou hast 
 sent unto me according to thy promise, hath de- 
 livered me from the accursed slavery of sin, the re- 
 membrance whereof is more bitter unto me than 
 gall and wormwood; he hath brought me to the 
 glorious hberty of being the servant of God, whose 
 service I find indeed to be perfect freedom. And 
 thou, Lord God, wilt no more forsake me ; I shall 
 be under thy guidance and thy care all the days of 
 my life : gladly do I leave my soul and body to thy 
 keeping. Yea, and under thy protection will I 
 await the king of terrors, expect the solemn change 
 which death shall make, hanging humbly and stead- 
 fastly upon thee. And then, adieu all fears of that 
 tremendous hell, the place of endless wrath ! Then 
 welcome, ye glorious everlasting heavens; welcome, 
 eternity, where ages shall rise and pass, and new 
 ones succeed for ever ; welcome, ye awful things 
 
160 
 
 which shall be hereafter, the expectation of which 
 fills me with fear and hope, and in the views of 
 which I rejoice and tremble, and feel all the world 
 to be nothing !" 
 
 But methinks, I hear the formalist long ago 
 crying out, " Thou art beside thyself, thou art 
 righteous over much. We will not walk, O my 
 soul, with the wanton ; we will not drown ourselves 
 in drink, nor defile our hands with dishonest gain, 
 lest we make our name to stink upon the earth. 
 But it is good for us to provide for the future; it is 
 good to be something in this life ; good it is, that 
 men pay us respect; that we have wherewith to pass 
 our time, without being obliged to others. But 
 God must have his hours, the church and the closet 
 may not be forgotten ; and tlien we shall return to 
 enjoy what God hath given us. Then we shall 
 spend our days in quietness, and relish the comforts 
 of ease, company, and amusement. Yes, my soul, 
 we will steer even in this matter : we will not ne- 
 glect our souls, like the careless, nor will we deny 
 ourselves, like the precise. God shall have his due; 
 but wealth, which brings us esteem and honour ; 
 harmless pleasure, which renders time delightful, 
 shall not be forgotten. We will live as long, and 
 as easily as we can, and when we can live no longer, 
 then God shall receive us, and provide a reward for 
 us, which he will pour plenteously upon the head 
 of those who have not lived like other men, nor 
 profanely turned away from his service and altar." 
 
 And now, brethren, you have the whole of this 
 matter laid before you. Search then and try if the 
 
161 
 
 truth be in you, by this first mark of the renewed 
 mind, right apprehensions in the understanding. 
 Happy your case, if upon good grounds ye are 
 able to say, " Hitherto, I find in me the tokens of 
 the new creature." But if you fail here, you shall 
 have no title to apply to yourself any part of the 
 description which is to follow : you cannot be in 
 Christ. 
 
SERMON VII. 
 
 THE BELIEVER A NEW CREATURE. 
 
 2 Cor. v. 17. 
 
 If any man be in Christ, he is a new creature. 
 
 I AM rejoicing in hope, my brethren, that while I 
 am describing the character of a new creature, many 
 of you, by the grace of God, will become such. A 
 prospect which indeed, emboldens me to use such 
 plainness of speech with you. For is it not, ought it 
 not to be my heart's desire towards you, you espe- 
 cially, that ye may be saved? But what! will you, 
 that while I see many among you, who are walking 
 after the course of this world, and not after Christ, 
 whose end must be destruction unless ye be plucked 
 out of the fire, I even let you contentedly alone? 
 You would not, I am sure you would not, that I 
 should deal thus unfaithfully by you. Ye are not 
 yet so much your own enemies. Ye desire to be 
 happy; and, believe me, it is all the harm I wish 
 you. But ye cannot be happy, if ye abide in your 
 sins. These, I would needs you should leave, and 
 you care not to part with. Here is all the quarrel 
 
163 
 
 between us. You like not to be told, plainly, " un- 
 less ye repent, ye shall perish ;" and I, while I live, 
 have nothing else to tell you. Say, we are some- 
 times troublesome to you, and raise some uneasy re- 
 flections upon your minds, yet I hope you may be 
 the quieter for it upon your dying beds, and then, I 
 am sure, you will thank us. I shall esteem it a 
 blessed thing, if I may any how help you to such an 
 end. But this cannot be, unless you be in Christ: 
 and none are in Christ, but those who are a new 
 creature; and it is plain many of you are not, from 
 the carnal, worldly lives ye lead. And who those 
 are among you, I will endeavour v;ith all freedom to 
 show you. 
 
 You have seen, in what a peculiar, humble, and 
 spiritual manner, the understanding of the new 
 creature judges and apprehends all things. The 
 most important matters wherewith man is conversant, 
 were taken under consideration, and illustrated also 
 in a way of opposition to the judgment of the formal 
 and the careless. 
 
 2. I shall introduce what we have to say concern- 
 ing the will of the new creature, which is the se- 
 cond power or faculty of the soul, with this observa- 
 tion, that such due apprehensions in the understand- 
 ing do naturally influence the choice of the will, and, 
 consequently, prove themselves to be right and just, 
 by the power they have to engage the heart. Un- 
 less our apprehensions do draw the will after them, 
 all our supposedly renewed way of judging, can be 
 but speculative and mistaken. To instance in one 
 of them: — If our apprehensions of heaven be humble 
 
164 
 
 and spiritual, that state of glory will have such a 
 preference in our choice to the best things here, 
 that we shall find ourselves, comparatively, indifter- 
 ent about them. Pleasure will have lost much of 
 its alluring power over us; the relish for interest and 
 honour will be abated. Rather, we shall fear these 
 present competitors for our souls against heaven, be 
 aware of them, and care not how little we deal with 
 them, knowing that we have a lasting treasure and 
 a sure inheritance before us in the eternal world. 
 Now, such a rejecting the things of life in compari- 
 son with the determination we have for the other 
 world, must effectually evince an understanding, in 
 this particular, renewed. And should we find a like 
 effect wrought upon our choice by the other in- 
 stances of a renewed understanding above produced, 
 we must remain confirmed, that our apprehensions 
 were those of the new creature, and that our judg- 
 ment was enlightened by the Spirit and word of 
 God; that we, *' who were some time darkness, are 
 now light in the Lord." Whereas, doth not such 
 gracious influence manifest itself in the choice of our 
 wills? We must needs have been mistaken, if we had 
 conceived our apprehensions were right, and our 
 judgment in spiritual things just. Here then is so 
 fair a foundation laid, on which to build what the de- 
 termination of the will, under the guidance of an en- 
 enlightened understanding, must be, that it shall 
 hardly be possible to miss of seeing it: for which 
 reason I shall not stop you particularly to observe, 
 what choice doth really follow in the will of the new 
 creature, from every one of the former apprehensions. 
 
165 
 
 The result of the whole of them, or the choice of 
 that person's will, whose mind is renewed, shall ra- 
 ther serve to show the new creature, in this second 
 faculty of the soul. Now, inasmuch as choice sup- 
 poses the offer made to us of different things, the 
 new creature is peculiar to his determination, choos- 
 ing that which all others refuse, and refusing that 
 which they choose. Of the two different portions, 
 God and the world, he prefers the former, and re- 
 jects the latter; of the two differing courses, obe- 
 dience to God and pleasing ourselves, he refuses his 
 own pleasure, and determines for God's: while the 
 careless and the formal choose directly the other w\ay; 
 the world hath with them the preference to God, 
 and the pleasing themselves to the obeying God. In 
 which two points doth principally lie the choice of 
 the renewed will. 
 
 1. The new creature chooses God for his portion, 
 and not the world. 
 
 This the careless sinner doth not, his choice be- 
 ing just the other way. He doth not indeed deter- 
 minately say, " I will have nothing to do with 
 God;" but he is so much better pleased with the 
 things about him, that he cannot find what possible 
 happiness it could be, to have God for a portion. 
 He cannot understand what fellowship with God 
 means. All that he hears about it, appears to him 
 an unintelligible jargon, and he is apt to count it no 
 better than mere enthusiasm. Indeed he would not 
 that God, whose perfections he knows are infinite, 
 should be his enemy; he would not be without the 
 blessings of his goodness, nor would he fall under 
 
166 
 
 the vengeance of his power. But he wants, that 
 God should stand by at a distance, and suffer him 
 unmolested to take his fill of the joys of life. This 
 is the measure he would hold with God. He would 
 enjoy the world, and withal that both God should 
 not see it witli displeasure, and should also uphold 
 him in it. He hath not the least inclination to God 
 as a portion; but so obstinately is he bent the other 
 way, that he will have the world, though he knows 
 it is upon the forfeiture of God's favour, and at the 
 hazard of his wrath. He will have the enjoyments 
 of life at any rate, and his continual conduct is but a 
 scene which evidences how cheap he holds God, in 
 comparison with his ease and interest. Every ac- 
 tion bespeaks a denial of God, and a refusal of him 
 in his heart, seeing he assiduously lays that out upon 
 any thing, and next to nothing, rather than God. 
 
 The formal person hath indeed a better appear- 
 ance. He looks like one concerning whom you 
 might be ready to conceive better hope ; imagining, 
 from his exactness and decency, that his whole heart 
 was indeed with God. Nay, and no doubt himself 
 imagines no less. But let him be brought to the 
 scrutiny, and he no more shall be found to have given 
 his heart to God, than his thoughtless neighbour. 
 Say thou, who art fair to look upon, dost thou know 
 what it is to have made a full, free, and deliberate 
 choice of God for thy portion, thy present and eter- 
 nal portion, so as thou canst say from the bottom of 
 thy heart, " Here shall be my rest for ever; I have 
 none in heaven but thee, nor is there any upon earth 
 that I desire beside thee?" Art thou so well dis- 
 
167 
 
 posed toward the perfections and majesty of God, 
 that thou canst find an entire satisfaction of thy soul 
 in his favour presence, and love, and count the loss 
 of every other thing but httle, if this may be allowed 
 thee? Dost thou not find thyself secretly declining 
 the offer; that thou canst not for thy hfe bring thy 
 heart up to it? Hast thou not many reserves to 
 make, many pleasing endearments of hfe, which in- 
 terpose and leave God but the second in thy choice? 
 When God demands thy whole heart of thee, hast 
 thou no oxen to prove; no ground that thou wouldst 
 go and see; no wife that thou hast married, that 
 thou canst not come to him yet ? Doth not expe- 
 rience show thee, thou art better pleased with one 
 thing and another in the world ; seduced by which, 
 thou art content to forget God, and art but holden 
 of constraint when thou approachest to worship him? 
 But the new creature hath no reserves: he sfoes 
 over to God through Christ with the full bent of 
 his will; nor thinks he hath done any great matter, 
 that he rejects every other thing in respect of him. 
 He can see happiness no where else : let him have 
 God, and he cares for nothing beside. He can find 
 no substantial happiness here, but in the nearness of 
 God with him ; and he acquiesces with full content 
 in the expectation of that blessedness, which the pre- 
 sence of God shall minister hereafter. Jealous he 
 is over himself, lest God in all things should not be 
 preferred, watching with a sacred jealousy that his 
 heart be not seduced, and casting out with indigna- 
 tion that lust, which would be setting up an interest 
 within him against his heavenly Father. In a word, he 
 
168 
 
 hath so evident a conviction of the justice of God's 
 claim in him; and from experience, as well as pro- 
 mise, so clearly discovers, that happiness directs him 
 this way, as without gainsaying of heart, to prefer 
 spiritual to sensual gratifications, an eternal God to 
 a perishing and wicked world. Could you look into 
 his soul, you might read such determinations as these 
 strongly graven there : — " Away from me, ye trifles 
 of life and time, ye kingdoms of the world, and all 
 the pomp which belongs to you ! Wealth and mag- 
 nificence, airy grandeur and reputation, gilded vanity 
 and naughty pleasure, I will none of you all. God 
 is my portion. God unchangeable and eternal, ye 
 fading joys, ye phantoms which seem to be what ye 
 are not, is my inheritance. Here will I rest, in 
 God the chief, the only good. God in Christ is all 
 I can need, and infinitely more: let me have him, 
 and I am satisfied; I can have no more. And with- 
 out thee, thou fountain of life and bliss, all beside 
 were nothing worth." 
 
 2. So again, of the two different courses, obe- 
 dience to God and pleasing ourselves, he refuses his 
 own pleasure, and determines for God's will. This 
 the natural man doth not ; the determinations of his 
 choice are all on the side of his own pleasure; he 
 wills after the flesh. He hath exactly the wrong 
 bent, le^ns always to the part of indulgence, and 
 starts aside from submission. Nor in this matter is 
 there the least difference between the formal and the 
 careless; only that bears not such evidence of a per- 
 verted choice as the other, and therefore must be 
 under greater likelihood of continuing to be de- 
 
169 
 
 ceived. A man of an unconverted heart may, by 
 his own reflections, or by the instruction of others, 
 be brought to see the fitness of choosing God's will, 
 and refusing his own pleasure in comparison there- 
 with. Perhaps, being convinced that he ought so 
 to be determined, he is ready to persuade himself, 
 that he actually is now come to so just a choice; 
 seeing he finds himself fully purposed about the mat- 
 ter for the future : but the heart beino^ unchano-ed, 
 the ut soon goes off, the purpose dies away, and the 
 man remains just as he was before. Outsides here 
 are nothing to the purpose, where tlie inquiry is, 
 whether a man rejects sin, with the free and constant 
 dislike of his heart, and as freely and constantly 
 cleaves to God's will. No man chooses sin for the 
 sake of sinning, in downright and avowed opposition 
 to God: this were too horrid, perhaps, for any thing 
 but Satan. And therefore no one may cheat him- 
 self by conceiving that he rejects sin, merely because 
 directly looking upon it he cannot but disapprove it. 
 The matter is, whether there be a steady and deter- 
 minate denial in the heart of all such things as, be- 
 ing contrary to God's will, are sinful. This the 
 natural man doth not, nor can do; he constantly in- 
 clines to them, and as constantly dechnes from all 
 those things wherein obedience to God doth consist: 
 and this perverted choice manifests itself in him every 
 hour and moment of his life. Search out your spi- 
 rit, I pray you. Do you find upon the trial, that 
 you regard sin as a greater evil than suffering, or re- 
 proach, or loss of reputation; that the main inquiry 
 you make about every thing you do is, whether it 
 H 19 
 
170 
 
 be sinful, or leads to sin; that you choose to do your 
 duty, though you are sure you shall smart for it 
 somehow or other, resolutely opposing all the sug- 
 gestions of flesh and blood? This is the way of a 
 renewed will: but it is not your way. Your deter- 
 minations are irresolute; your heart goes not in with 
 them, freely and fully; you find a secret and pre- 
 vailing drawing back within you, when you would 
 enforce yourself to close with God's will in opposi- 
 tion to that of yourself and others, of your interests, 
 reputation and pleasure. The new creature chooses 
 God's will with an hearty consent; would not do the 
 least thing which is contrary to it, nor keep, if he 
 could help it, any thing within him, which in the 
 lowest degree should thwart or control it. He has 
 a watch upon the evil tempers of his heart, and la- 
 bours ever to oppose them. He would bring " every 
 thought to the obedience of Christ." He finds him- 
 self secretly constrained to look all difficulties in the 
 face, in the way of his duty; makes no known reser- 
 vations, nor comes short at any time, without acting 
 revenge against sin and himself; he can appeal to 
 God, " Lord, thou knowest my heart : thou seest 
 what is in me: thou seest that I would not willingly 
 offend thee in any the least point, or leave undone 
 the smallest thing thou wouldst have me do. Yea, 
 thou knowest, I desire with all simplicity and sin- 
 cerity to be pure and holy in thy sight." 
 
 In these two particulars the choice of the renewed 
 will doth consist. And these, as leading determina- 
 tions, do continually draw the choice after them in 
 every lower particular. Choice of God and of obe- 
 
171 
 
 dience, like the course of a river, gives all other de- 
 terminations of the will a like direction: insomuch, 
 that just as we choose or refuse, with regard to these 
 two, the general hent of our choice is in all other 
 points. Let us instance in the case of the means of 
 grace, for the better illustrating the renewed will. 
 
 The man of an unrenewed heart doth not choose 
 worship and the ministration of the word. His 
 heart seems detained from them; and he cannot ap- 
 proach them with complacency, or, at best, seeks not 
 in them the end of their destination and use — im- 
 provement and growth in grace. He is a secret 
 enemy to such employments; wishes he might be ex- 
 cused; and will have as little of them as possible. 
 He hath a very ready choice of all such means as 
 may lead him to his favourite gratifications in life: 
 but as to these means of grace, having no heart to 
 God, and to obedience to his will, he doth not like 
 them. Whereas the new creature chooses these 
 needful means, both that he may meet God in them, 
 and exercise and strengthen his soul in grace, by the 
 use of them. He is determined upon them, and 
 will have as much of them as he can. He will be 
 in them, though the flesh be ever so unready; and 
 industriously doth he chide and rouse his sluggish 
 affections. Willing to be set free from the bondage 
 of corruption, he cries, " Ah, my God ! that I were 
 fashioned after thy likeness; that thy will were per- 
 fectly stamped upon my soul; that no remaining ad- 
 versary might oppose thee in my heart; that the 
 constant, universal submission of all that is within 
 me, weie yielded unto thee! Then should I be 
 H 2 
 
172 
 
 free indeed! And this freedom thou kindly ofFerest 
 me by Jesus Christ: Lord, I will wait upon thee, 
 and entreat thee for it day and night; yea, I will 
 seek thee, in whatever place or manner thou hast 
 appointed. Yes, my soul, we will not be tired of 
 the gracious work; we will use an holy importunity, 
 we will be where the dew of heaven falleth." 
 
 This may serve to show, in what manner the new 
 creature chooses and determines : nor shall I need 
 add any more upon this head, when I have observed, 
 that his choice is in due conformity with the appre- 
 hensions he hath conceived of God and himself. 
 And how reasonable and consistent these are, hath 
 been already seen. 
 
 3. I go on to the affections. And here perhaps 
 it will not be amiss, to let you see previously what is 
 meant by them, and what is their office and use: a 
 piece of knowledge, indeed, of no necessity to salva- 
 tion ; but which may help us to form a juster notion 
 of the new creature, in this third power of the soul. 
 . Now the affections are those sensible stirrings and 
 motions, which with greater or less activity rise up 
 in us, concerning every thing which is the object 
 of our thoughts. These are constantly at work; 
 though when they act but in the ordinary measure, 
 we are not apt to remark and feel them. And, as 
 hath been said before, their office is to put the soul 
 upon action. An example shall show you the na- 
 ture and several kinds of these servants to the 
 higher faculties. Fix your attention for a moment 
 upon a large estate, which would supply you with all 
 the necessaries and elegancies of life; whei'^on you 
 
173 
 
 might enjoy yourself at full ease, not wanting the 
 least pleasure to which you might be inclined; be 
 out of the reach of fortune, and above dependence; 
 have it in your power to oblige your friends, and to 
 keep as many of them as you would about you. 
 Observe now : do you find that you are approving, 
 and do esteem, with pleasure and satisfaction, such 
 a possession, wishing it were yours ? This emotion 
 you feel in you towards it, is the affection called 
 love. Approving such an estate, have you a certain 
 confidence that you may obtain it ? The brisk mo- 
 tion you feel in you, is termed hope. Suppose 
 yourself possessed of it, and that you find yourself 
 lifted up with much satisfaction in your new circum- 
 stance; this is the affection joy. Imagine yourself 
 so possessed and happy; and think if this estate 
 should be taken from you ; the displeasure you feel 
 at the thought is called hatred. But suppose your- 
 self in danger of losing it; the disturbance you ex- 
 perience within you is fear. Suppose it actually 
 taken from you ; the agitation you feel is sorrow. 
 Let us place the presence and favour of God in the 
 stead of this estate. Suppose God offering his pre- 
 sence and favour to you. Do you hear the offer 
 with pleasure ? This is love. Do you find your- 
 self in a way of enjoying this offer ? You feel the 
 stirrings of hope. Are you possessed of God's pre- 
 sence and favour? Your affection is joy. Think 
 of being deprived of God's presence and favour: 
 you feel hatred. Suppose yourself in danger of 
 losing it : it is fear that works in your breast. Have 
 you lost it for the present ? It is sorrow that moves 
 
174 
 
 you. This may serve to show you, what the affec- 
 tions are. And while I have been explaining them, 
 I have, from the two examples produced, taken a way 
 for evidencing the difference between the natural 
 and renewed affections. For he wlio shall find him- 
 self affected with love and hatred, hope and fear, joy 
 and sorrow, about an earthly estate, while he finds 
 no such workings of his affections about God, is cer- 
 tainly an unrenewed man. While, on the other 
 hand, he who sits comparatively easy about earthly 
 things, and finds the love and hatred, hope and fear, 
 joy and sorrow, of his mind, mainly exercised con- 
 cerning God, may have good confidence, if his un- 
 derstanding and will are renewed, that so also are 
 his affections. 
 
 But each of these will require a farther illustra- 
 tion. It must be our present business to set forth, 
 in what manner the love and hatred, hope and fear, 
 joy and sorrow, of the new creature are employed. 
 
 In illustrating these, attention must be had to the 
 careless and the formal. But how can I make a 
 difference between these two, in a matter wherein 
 they are so evidently, and exactly alike? In ap- 
 pearance they vary, but in affection they are the 
 same. The careless evidently loves and hates, hopes 
 and fears, joys and sorrows, after a carnal manner: 
 and truly, the formalist does no other. I must be 
 content therefore to put them together in this in- 
 quiry : but this shall be attempted in such a manner, 
 as may serve principally to undeceive the formal pro- 
 fessor, and to make it plain to him, how, notwith- 
 standing his decency and regularity, he not only 
 
175 
 
 comes short of, but stands opposed to the new crea- 
 ture, in the employment of his affections. 
 
 1. Love is the ruHng aJ0Pection of the mind of 
 man, leading all the other affections after it. And 
 this is employed about different things in the new, 
 and unrenewed mind. 
 
 The sinner, insensible to love towards God, lays 
 out the first esteem of his heart upon the gratification 
 of worldly interest, honour and credit, the indulgences 
 of ease and pleasure. " I must be about my interest : 
 My business," says he, " must needs increase my 
 substance. It were good to be something higher in 
 life, to equal those who are now above me, and who, 
 through the influence which wealth and station give, 
 now keep me under a disagreeable constraint and 
 subjection. It were good to be one's own master, 
 to be beholden to none, and to carry a little sway 
 in the world. Grievous it is, to be contradicted, 
 and controlled, and trampled upon. I am enslaved 
 by my present narrowness. I would be set at large, 
 that I might enjoy the world, and taste the plea- 
 sures of life ; that I might share in those agreeable 
 gratifications and amusements, which render us 
 happy." I will answer thee, thou thing of vanity ! 
 What ! are these the best things thou longest for ? 
 Canst thou conceive no higher pleasures, than earthly 
 interest, honour and ease, can bring thee? Is God 
 so very cheap with thee, that thou findest no eager 
 wish arise, no pleasing satisfaction glowing within 
 thy heart, in the proposed enjoyment of him, while 
 thy trifling heart is ready almost to burst in the 
 expectation of carnal pleasure and worldly dignities? 
 
176 
 
 Mean man! Hear and see the more noble aims of 
 the renewed soul, and be taught thy folly and thy 
 shi ! Hear, and be ashamed at thy baseness, 
 while I tell thee, that God, the ever-blessed, and 
 Jesus, the prince of peace, the Holy Spirit, and even 
 all mankind, are the objects of the new creature's 
 esteem and love. 
 
 (1.) God alone is his possession; esteem of other 
 things is comparatively worn out with the new crea- 
 ture. In God, he sees all that can engage his heart, 
 all that is worthy and excellent, lovely and desirable. 
 He will not condescend to value those dazzling de- 
 lights, which thousands and ten thousands so warmly 
 pursue on every side of hira; like a man of another 
 nation, unconcerned about or disrelishing the plea- 
 sures of the natives; like a man beholding the play 
 of children. But in God he hath found a perfect 
 source of blessedness; here he rests his foot, while 
 he sends up continually the warmest desires of his 
 soul: " O manifest thyself unto me, thou God of my 
 life; lift up the light of thy countenance upon me, 
 and 1 shall be satisfied as with marrow and fatness! 
 With thee is the well of life; from thee, rivers of 
 pleasure flow : let me drink hereof, and I cannot 
 thirst. When wilt thou come unto me? When 
 shall I appear before thy presence, wherein true 
 joy is only to be found? O thou best and only 
 good, nothing but thee can I desire; thee alone 
 can I love! Ah, how cold my sluggish heart, that 
 I can love thee no more!" 
 
 (2.) Christ again is the object of the new crea- 
 ture's love. The natural man looks upon the fair- 
 
177 
 
 est among ten thousand, with an unrelenting insen- 
 sibility; a stupid ingratitude possesses his soul to- 
 wards the Lamb given to the slaughter for sinners ; 
 while the idols of life, pleasure, or interest, or hu- 
 man glory, shall swell his unworthy soul with tides 
 of joy. But the new creature is the spouse of 
 Christ, hath given the whole heart to him. No 
 other object draws out his soul, as the lovely Jesus 
 doth ; in the sight of whom, in his most free humi- 
 liations, most perfect purity, and most glorious tri- 
 umphs, esteem, tenderness, and gratitude, rise up in 
 an holy flame; while he secretly grieves, that it burns 
 no higher; that the love of Christ constraining him, 
 he should be so cold and lifeless. But cold as he 
 complains his love is towards his Lord, if he set the 
 love of father, or child, or friend, or of the dearest 
 thing in life against it, it weighs nothing in the bal- 
 ance. 
 
 (3.) And so also, while the natural man hath 
 hardly heard, or done no more than heard, that there 
 is any Holy Ghost, the renewed man is not with- 
 out grateful affection towards the sanctifier and com- 
 forter of his soul. He hath much to tell you of the 
 gracious dealings of the Spirit with him. '' I was 
 far off," he will be saying, " and he brought me nigh. 
 Often I refused to hear, but he forsook me not; I 
 grieved him, yet still he returned unto me again. 
 He convinced me of my danger, he showed me the 
 terrors which lay before me, he kindly importuned 
 me to flee from the path of destruction, he led me 
 into the arms of Christ; he converted my soul, he 
 opened mine eyes to behold the joys of heaven; he 
 H 3 
 
178 
 
 made me to taste of his consolations, that I should 
 not faint in my passage through this vale of misery. 
 And what shall I render unto him? Dead in tres- 
 passes and sins as I once was, but now alive from 
 the dead, what shall I render nnto him by whom I 
 live? I can give him nothinfj which is not his own. 
 All that I have is his gift. Yea, if I pay him the 
 intensest love of my whole soul, even this love he 
 inspires me with. Yet I will acknowledge him the 
 author of that life which is in my soul; that by his 
 influence I am revived, and that by his power and 
 might I trust I shall be meet to stand before God 
 for ever," 
 
 (4.) The tenderness which he experiences to- 
 wards men, is another exercise of the renewed heart. 
 Doth a man find himself unconcerned about the 
 souls of others, unacquainted with sentiments of 
 compassion towards men, because they are sinners? 
 Is he insensible of secret pleasure in the good; forced 
 to approve them by the voice of conscience, yet nei- 
 ther esteeming nor liking them? This man is surely 
 of the old leaven. The new creature finds his heart 
 open to take in the whole world; knows a pity for 
 sinners at the most distant parts of the earth., nor 
 is there an haughty insulter or enemy, who hath not 
 a place in his generous breast. But with those 
 who bear the marks of God's children upon them, 
 he would dwell; a peculiar tenderness of esteem and 
 love rises within him upon the sight of these. Be 
 they high or low, rich or poor, ignorant or learned, 
 have they been enemies, or do they differ in opinion; 
 still the gracious heart takes them in, and yields 
 them the first share of his affection. 
 
179 
 
 Such is the employment of the new creature's 
 love. You see the tendency of it, and by tins ten- 
 dency you must judge, that the leading affection love 
 hathuhe right use and employment given it, rather 
 than by any degree of vehemence, be it more or less, 
 wherewith it is excited. I called love the leadinjr 
 affection, because it gives directions to all the rest. 
 Wherefore, where love is renewed, there 
 
 2. Hatred will be new also. To hate what one 
 ought to love, and to love what should be disliked, 
 this is the way of the carnal mind. Let formality 
 say what it will, yet it is inwardly displeased with the 
 strictness of the gospel, and with a constant atten- 
 dance upon the means of grace ; is uneasy when de- 
 tained by serious conversation, especially if it be free 
 and particular; cannot endure advice or reproof, and 
 takes it up as a task to read the word of God ; above 
 all, abhors and kicks against that public ministry 
 which searches and lays bare the heart, nor will suf- 
 fer men to pass for Christians, because of outsides 
 and parties. Just the reverse the new creature, 
 whose aversion is altogether the contrary way. 
 While godliness and the means of grace, serious 
 company, and Christian freedom, the word of God 
 and an awakening ministration of it, are his delight, 
 he finds a deep displeasure rise wdthin him against 
 sin, and every way thereof; against the corruption 
 of his nature, and the residue of lust which abides 
 within him; against sin in others, and the company 
 of sinners; against all that looks like sin, and all the 
 temptations that lead to it; and especially against 
 that leading corruption of his heart, which hath often 
 
180 
 
 subdued, and still besieges him. " Away from me, ye 
 abominable ways," he says, " I can no more endure 
 you; I am ashamed, yea even confounded, whilst I 
 remember what a beast ye have made me: how ye have 
 defiled my soul; how ye have dishonoured my God, 
 and opposed the kingdom of my Master, the Lord 
 Jesus, through me. Away, ye seducing works of 
 wickedness; all that is within me rises against you 
 with abhorrence. My God hates you. My Lord 
 ye have crucified, ye deceivers. Yea, ye have caused 
 me to add affliction to his grief and sufferings. For 
 the sake of the forgiving Father, and of the dying 
 Redeemer; for the sake of ray soul escaped out of 
 your hands, I loathe and detest you, ye paths of un- 
 godliness ; ye v/ays of vanity and pride ; ye baneful 
 pleasures; ye perpetual, but most stupifying amuse- 
 ments, little lurking betrayers that I did not suspect; 
 who could look innocent and smile, while ye were 
 working my ruin; but chiefly thou, the master sin 
 and tyrant, to whom I walked in detestable subjec- 
 tion. O my God, all these, thine and " mine ene- 
 mies whii;h would not that thou should reign over 
 me, bring them out, and slay them before thee." 
 
 3. The new creature also hopes and fears differ- 
 ently from the natural man; nor doth the most re- 
 gular outside enter into the feelings of this kind 
 which he experiences. This difference will more 
 evidently be seen, and what the hopes and fears of 
 the renewed mind are, be discovered, while these 
 two affections are considered together. See now 
 the most convincing opposition between an unre- 
 forraed and a reformed mind. Tell me what is your 
 
181 
 
 biggest hope ? that is, what do you wait for, with 
 the most pleasing expectation of enjoying it ? What 
 engages your first and most constant wishes? Is it 
 indulgence of any kind? If it be not this, is it more 
 of the world than you now possess? or is it an en- 
 largement of your station? Or if not any of these, 
 is it the favour or acceptance of men, or the esteem 
 of some peculiar person, whose affection and friend- 
 ship you would engage? If not this, is it yet the 
 happiness of your family, the prosperity of your chil- 
 dren ? In a word, is your first wish after any earthly 
 thing? However allowable such hope might be 
 otherwise, still if it be your first hope, your prevail- 
 ing expectation, your soul is unrenewed; you seek 
 not first, it is plain, the kingdom of God. On the 
 other side, what is it you mostly fear? Is it chiefly 
 the injury of your fortune, or the being prevented in 
 the increase of it ? Is it pain, or sickness, or death ; 
 the death of others, or of yourself? Is it, in short, 
 the danger of any present evil that most alarms 
 you ? Nothing is plainer, than that your heart is 
 set upon that, concerning the loss of which you find 
 the most lively apprehensions. If your hopes and 
 fears are principally taken up about the matters of 
 this life, incontestably you are a child of this world ; 
 and common sense will tell you, that you cannot be 
 that new creature, which looketh for the inheritance 
 of the saints in light. 
 
 The man created anew, hopes and fears after ano- 
 ther sort. Eternity, the enjoyment of God and 
 Christ for ever, the attainment of perfect holiness, 
 have so engaged his first and largest hopes, that he 
 
18^ 
 
 remains insensible, in a way, to all lower expectations. 
 The voice of hope cries in him, " O eternity, incon- 
 ceivable space of being, without end, where time 
 shall be no more ; where God, the fountain of life 
 and love, shall be enjoyed with the fullest freedom, 
 shall be manifested to the creature in ceaseless and 
 ravishing communications ; where defiled nature shall 
 damp and clog no more, but the soul, wholly freed 
 from the hinderances of sin and the flesh, righteous, 
 perfect, and stamped with every impression of the 
 divine perfections, shall eternally behold God's face, 
 and lie open to the reviving influences of the divinity, 
 everlastingly shed upon it. Glorious state of purity 
 and happiness, what is all beneath the sun when 
 compared with it? Lord, lead me to this thy king- 
 dom, offered to the miserable sons and daughters of 
 men; lead me to it, by the way of thine appointment, 
 Jesus Christ, to whom I have betrothed my soul! 
 Encouraged by thy manifold goodness, I will confi- 
 dently hope, that through him this reward shall be 
 mine. Upon this hope, let me ride it out against 
 the various storms of this dangerous time. Set 
 heaven as a light continually before me, that, having 
 it always in mine eye, I may be walking directly to- 
 wards it ; and as I draw nearer to it, may behold it 
 with clearer view, and be revived by the cheering in- 
 fluences it sheds upon me ! Thus the 7iexiD creature 
 hopes; and his fears also are of a peculiar kind. His 
 soul takes the alarm if he have made the least step 
 towards hindering his salvation : yea, if he doth but 
 suspect that he is out of the way of it, he grows 
 afraid. He fears lest the enemies of his soul should 
 
183 
 
 take advantage of him. He fears especially lest he 
 should dishonour God, hinder the advancement of 
 Christ's kingdom, or give offence to the weak. He 
 fears giving others pain or grief. He fears using the 
 extent of allowed freedom, that he may not damage 
 himself or his neighbour. To be short, his fears 
 concern God's kingdom, the state of his own soul, 
 and that of others. Here they are quick and lively, 
 and such as he feels not upon any worldly occasion 
 or circumstance. 
 
 Judge now if there be not a wide difference, let 
 formality say of it what it will, between one whose 
 hopes and fears are lively and awakened about pre- 
 sent things, but cold and momentary about things 
 eternal; and another^ whose tenderest feelings of 
 hope and fear arise from the things unseen, with a 
 comparative insensibility to the things which now 
 are; who is, on one hand, supported in all the oc- 
 currences of life by the liope set before him, and on 
 the other, walks on cautiously and with a jealous 
 fear, lest in any matter he should dishonour his God, 
 or injure his brother, or endanger his own soul. 
 
 4. Joy and sorrow are the concluding affections. 
 And here, who knows not, that if our joys and sor- 
 rows are worldly, our hearts are so too? If a man's 
 joys arise from his wealth, or strength, or beauty; 
 from pleasure and indulgence; from friendships, 
 knowledge, and reputation ; and his sorrows, from 
 the want or loss of any of these: if, at the same 
 time, joy and grief lie stupid and motionless in the 
 concerns of a spiritual nature, we cannot be at a loss 
 to see that he is no iWiX) creature. The neia crea- 
 
18 L 
 
 hire rejoices and sorrows after a godly raanner. 
 Walking under the comfortable communication of 
 the divine presence, he rejoices : but doth God hide 
 the light of his countenance from him, he mourns 
 with a disconsolate grief. He rejoices in the fitness, 
 sufficiency, and willingness of the Redeemer, to sup- 
 ply all his present and eternal wants. He sorrows 
 in the deplorable views he hath of his Master's king- 
 dom trod under foot, of the blood and the grace of 
 Christ vilely cast away on obstinate and impenitent 
 sinners. He reviews the mighty work of conversion 
 and sanctification wrought upon him, and rejoices 
 with all grateful joy. He turns back upon his past 
 iniquities; he turns in upon his remaining corruption, 
 and mourns. There is a peculiarity in his joys and 
 sorrows ; they are his alone, a stranger meddleth not 
 with them : while, withal, they are joys of the high- 
 e.st taste, and sorrows which have no equal. It will 
 be needless to illustrate them largely, seeing they 
 have been in good measure spoken of before under 
 love, the ruling affection. For spiritual joy and 
 grief are but the pleasure or pain which the renewed 
 mind feels in the present enjoyment or disappoint- 
 ment of those things which are the objects of its 
 love. 
 
 Let this suffice, then, to give you some just no- 
 tion of the manner in which the affections of the 
 new creature are employed, which finishes what was 
 first proposed concerning the inward part of the 
 nei^ creature. And of this we may truly say, after 
 such a review, " old things are passed away, behold 
 all thini^s are become new." 
 
185 
 
 And upon the whole of it, is there is not a most 
 evident opposition between this character and that of 
 a careless sinner? Is it not, withal, so strongly dis- 
 tinguished from formality, that a man must wink 
 hard not to observe it? But is not this also a most 
 important and universal concern, in as much as our 
 union with Christ, and consequently our title to his 
 salvation, stands or falls by this very thing? Have 
 you heard all these things, therefore, with self-ap- 
 plication? And, coming to some general conclusion, 
 on which part do you find yourself? If on that of 
 the world, the old Adam still, shall I need say, " it 
 is high time to awake out of sleep?" This would 
 be but to repeat the calls you have found your con- 
 science already making upon you. 
 
 Or hath any among you not understood these 
 things? Have I seemed to any as one proposing 
 mysterious riddles? Their very ignorance must 
 condemn them." They are without spiritual dis- 
 cernment; " they seeing see not, and hearing they 
 hear not, neither do they understand." For, surely, 
 I have spoken nothing but the words of truth and 
 soberness. 
 
 But, however, renewed or otherwise, these dis- 
 courses may hitherto have found us, let us with one 
 heart beseech God, that he will give us all an un- 
 derstanding to know, and a will to choose, both him 
 and his way of peace; and that he will so graciously 
 dispose our love and hatred, our hope and fear, our 
 joys and sorrows, that, quickened in the whole in- 
 ward man, we may faithfully seek him here, and 
 finally and eternally enjoy him hereafter, for Jesus 
 Christ's sake. Amen. 
 
SERMON VIII. 
 
 THE BELIEVER A NEW CREATURE. 
 
 2 Cor. v. 17. 
 
 If any man be in Christ, he is a new creature. 
 
 Such is the power of the grace of Christ, such is 
 the mighty influence which goes out from him to 
 heal the soul, that whoever is vitally united to him, 
 is thereby recovered from death and darkness, to 
 light and life. The mist which lay over him is re- 
 moved, and he has an unseen world, and an invisible 
 God, in full view before him. Directed by the glo- 
 rious prospects which he beholds, he apprehends not 
 in the manner that others do; he can no more take 
 up his rest in the unsatisfying and perishing joys of 
 time; he disdains such little things as earthly hon- 
 our, human respect, and filthy lucre ; he is grown 
 ambitious of greater things, and will be content with 
 nothing short of honour in the court above, with 
 nothing less than the love and favour of God, with 
 nought beneath an inheritance eternal in the heavens: 
 yea, should he be offered even these, the very place 
 of archangels, for ten millions of ages, he would be 
 dissatisfied; must have heaven for ever, or all is 
 
187 
 
 nothing. It is God who is the sole, the supreme 
 object of his choice and love: God propitious to 
 sinners in his Son Jesus, and Jesus saving and 
 quickening the dead in trespasses and sins by the 
 operation of the Spirit. For God he hopes, he 
 thirsts for the living God ; he waits for that gracious 
 day, when, being ttioroughly fit for God, God shall 
 be his portion for ever. Here his heart is fixed ; 
 and he cannot endure whatever would prevent the 
 blessed possession; fearful, lest anyhow he should 
 come short of it, and filled with disconsolate grief, if 
 at any time he lose sight of it. Such are the won- 
 ders of divine grace, and such the might of Christ 
 to new-form the spirits of men. 
 
 The proposed method leads me now to describe 
 the expression or exercises of the renewed mind. 
 We have seen the inward parts of the new creature, 
 have been exploring the nobler half of us, — that 
 half which, it is to be feared, is but little known or 
 inquired into. How the new creature apprehends, 
 and chooses, and is affected, hath been discovered. 
 And where the root, the principle, is reformed and 
 holy, the branches sent forth will also be sanctified. 
 External sanctity is but a pretended show, or a fond 
 mistake, while the heart remains defiled; but where 
 this hath put on the Lord Jesus Christ, the holy 
 influence will shed itself through the whole man, 
 and every thought, word, and action, will speak the 
 inward change. 
 
 These, the thoughts, words, and actions, do in- 
 clude the whole conduct; there being no other ex- 
 pressions of the mindj but these. Accordingly, our 
 
188 
 
 remaining labour is, to illustrate the new creature's 
 character in this way of thinking, speaking, and act- 
 ing. Nor shall it be found, upon inquiry, that he 
 hath less peculiarity of conduct, than he hath been 
 seen to have of sentiment. His manner is entirely 
 his own; not in the least thing, neither thought, 
 word, or most insignificant action, is any other like 
 him. As a child of God, as an heir and expectant 
 of heaven, he lives in a singular way among the sons 
 of men; distinguished from them, and utterly unlike 
 to them. As a prince, royally descended, and 
 trained up for a throne, all his behaviour bespeaks 
 the dignity of his birth, and the greatness of his in- 
 heritance. Pretenders may mimic his garb, and af- 
 fect his manner; in his absence may pass for him 
 with the vulgar: but no sooner doth he appear, than 
 he is known and distinguished from never so many, 
 who presume, without title, to be of equal birth with 
 him. He thinks, he speaks, he acts, like the son 
 of the king of heaven. 
 
 1. With regard to his thoughts. Now thoughts 
 are to God the same thing which words and actions 
 (which are but the interpreters of the thoughts) are 
 unto men. For God knoweth the thoughts of men; 
 all within us is naked and open to his eye. And 
 therefore a good man labours to approve himself in 
 God's sight by the purity of his thoughts, as well 
 as by the integrity of his words and actions. And, 
 indeed, by an holy discipline herein, he hath the best 
 grounds to be confident of his sincerity towards God; 
 and doth more evidence to himself the simplicity of 
 his heart, than by any other way whatever. For 
 
189 
 
 which reason, I shall beg your special attention to 
 this matter of the thoughts; as being least liable to 
 leave us mistaken in the judgment we make of our- 
 selves. Words and actions, although they will re- 
 gularly follow, where the heart is rightly disposed ; 
 yet are not so distinguishingly to us proofs of a re- 
 newed mind, as well regulated thoughts: seeing both 
 a purity of word and action can avail nothing towards 
 the new creature, where the thoughts of the heart 
 are defiled; and also, that v/ords and actions, how- 
 ever pure in themselves, may spring from undue 
 principles within. But when the heart is clean in 
 the thoughts thereof, what passes within us being a 
 matter merely between God and ourselves, there can 
 be no room left of doubt. So that the course and 
 conduct of our thoughts, demands a very peculiar place 
 in our inquiry after the nev/ creature. And under 
 these particulars I would give you a notion of his 
 way of thinking. — He hath a serious turn of think- 
 ing upon whatever passes through his mind; — he 
 hath an aptness to fall into holy meditation; — he 
 doth not entertain defiling thoughts in his heart. 
 
 (1.) He hath a serious turn of thinking upon 
 whatever passes through his mind. I speak not of 
 the matter of his thoughts, what he thinks about ; 
 but of his manner of thinkincr. The matter of his 
 thoughts may and must be often about the things of 
 this life, and such as are common; but his manner 
 of thinking about such ordinary and needful things 
 is sanctified. He thinks in such a way as this. — 
 When he reflects upon the house that covers him, 
 the bed that refreshes him, the raiment that clothes 
 
190 
 
 liim, the food that nourishes him, the friends that 
 
 cheer him, his thought upon one and another of 
 
 these is: " They are thy comforts, thy bounties, O 
 
 God; the present tokens of tliy love, the pledge of 
 
 thy tenderness towards us." When he reflects upon 
 
 his success or disappointment in his business, " This 
 
 is God's doing," he aptly suggests to himself, " and 
 
 must be patiently submitted to: that is his gift, 
 
 which must be received with thankfulness, and used 
 
 with reliffious care." When he enters into com- 
 es 
 
 pany he is ready to reflect, " What temptations shall 
 I have here to encounter? what opportunities of 
 usefulness?" When he retires from company, 
 " How have I acted my part ? Honourably to God, 
 profitably to my neighbour, and innocently, if not 
 beneficially, to myself?" When he meets a sinner, 
 " What a dishonour to God, what an object of com- 
 passion is here ! Ah ! that it would please God to 
 open thine eyes !" And when a good man comes 
 in his way, " This is the servant of the high God; 
 I would dwell with him; I would be such as he is;" 
 is his secret reflection. When he hears of the 
 death of others, " Art thou ready my soul? We 
 must away." When he hears of the afl3ictions 
 and troubles of others, " Turn them, O God, to 
 their spiritual improvement!" When of greater 
 calamities, " Now that thy judgments are in the 
 earth, may the inhabitants of the world learn righ- 
 teousness! W^hen of the sad wickedness of the 
 times; the blasphemy, infidelity, corruption, lewd- 
 ness, drunkenness, which abound; " W^oe is me for 
 thy dishonour, O Lord ! Turn thou us, and we shall 
 
191 
 
 be turned !" Let this serve to show you his man- 
 ner, how the new nature doth spirituahze his way of 
 thinking about all the things which pass under his 
 notice. 
 
 But doth the seeming Christian think thus? 
 Hath he a secret principle within him, which sug- 
 gests to him this manner of thinking? Is he apt 
 to think of the sinner with compassion, and of the 
 good with delight? Of worldly prosperity with 
 fear; and of crosses, great or little, with submissive- 
 ness? Have the objects which present themselves 
 to him a serious turn of thought upon his mind, as 
 he reflects upon them? Doth he think as a stran- 
 ger upon earth; and doth heaven sway, and rule his 
 thoughts, as home doth those of a man upon a 
 journey? The formal person, as soon as he hath 
 done with the task of devotion, thinks just as other 
 men do, without seriousness, in a vain, selfish, 
 earthly manner: neither the glory of God, nor self- 
 denial and deadness to the world, nor heavenly mind- 
 edness, nor humiliation, have entered into his man- 
 ner of thinking. And although he often thinks 
 about what is good, yet never doth he think of it as 
 he should, humbly and charitably. So great a dif- 
 ference is there between him and the new creature, 
 that while the new creature thinks of the most in- 
 different things religiously, he thinks of the most re- 
 ligious thing in a manner unsanctified and perverse. 
 
 And what shall I say of the careless sinner? — 
 Are not the thoughts of his heart manifest? Dost 
 thou not think like a child of the earth, nothing in 
 thy manner testifying an higher original? Are not 
 
192 
 
 thy thoughts in such a way as this? " This will 
 bring me profit, and that preferment and honour; 
 this will hurt my interest, and that will cross my 
 schemes; this will gratify me, furnish my table, my 
 house, that will enlarge my influence, and increase 
 the number of my dependants; this man will be an 
 hinderance to me, that man may do me service, and 
 I must make him my friend." Dost thou not think 
 upon every thing with worldly views and principles? 
 And when a thought of God, death, or eternity, 
 forces itself upon thee, it is not thy manner to re- 
 ceive it with dissatisfaction, and to forget it with all 
 indifference? To show thee thy way of thinking in 
 its true light: a good man thou approvest, yet canst 
 not think of him but with displeasure; an ill man 
 thou condemnest, and yet thy thoughts are those of 
 peace, nearness, and reconciliation towards him; upon 
 the sight of the former, thy heart crieth out within 
 thee, " Hast thou found me, O mine enemy? upon 
 that of the lattpr, " Come with me, cast in thy lot, 
 let us have one purse." 
 
 (2.) The new creature hath an aptness to fall 
 into holy meditation. Let this be instanced in sea- 
 sons of leisure and retirement. A man freed from 
 the weight of business and the engagement of com- 
 pany, who can be without serious reflection in one 
 kind or other, can have little room to judge that 
 God hath the first regard of his soul. And yet 
 there is a generation, which is not apt to take up 
 the thought of God and religion, upon such most 
 seasonable occasions: ungodly men, who, as David 
 speaks, " have not God in all their thoughts." They 
 
193 
 
 shall be alone, on a journey, rise up and lie down; 
 and all the thoughts of their hearts vain and worldly. 
 As I may say, they do not all the while once think 
 of thinking upon God. And what will ye judge of 
 yourselves? Are ye not carnal? Are ye not care- 
 less? Will ye yet doubt of the unholy state of 
 your souls, when ye will not so much as think of 
 your heavenly Father, and the heavenly inheritance 
 he offers you, even when ye have nothing else to 
 think of? 
 
 But the new creature, as he is apt to steal a 
 thought for a moment out of business or company, 
 and to retire to God in the midst of either; so he 
 makes much of seasons, when he is in retirement. 
 Now he finds himself free and at ease, free now for 
 converse with his God, and to commune with his 
 soul. Now he falls into serious meditation; either 
 searches out his spirit and his conduct, or raises his 
 thoughts after God, or stretches them forward into 
 eternity, or deliberates for the glory of his Master's 
 kingdom. Some solemn subject engages him: and 
 though he be beaten from it by the interruption of 
 trifling conceits, which the weakness and vanity of 
 the human mind is ever liable to; yet he will be re- 
 turning to it again and again. The cxxxixth Psalm 
 affords us an admirable example of a good man's se- 
 cret and holy meditation. It contains some pious 
 reflections of David upon God's universal presence. 
 He was sunk into the most solemn recollection upon 
 the thought of God's nearness unto him. He was 
 considering how God searched him, and saw him 
 throughout : he found he could go nowhere frpm 
 
 I 19 
 
194 
 
 God in the whole universe. There God would be 
 also, wherever he was. The awful pleasing thought 
 grows warm upon his soul, till he feels himself beset 
 on every side, and (if I may so express it) unable to 
 escape from God's presence. He breaks out into 
 this most pious and most suitable ejaculation : "Try 
 me, O God, and seek the ground of my heart; prove 
 rae, and examine my thoughts; look well if there 
 be any way of wickedness in me, and lead me in 
 the way everlasting.'.' 
 
 Will formality say, that it hath this aptness to 
 serious meditation ? How was the last hour of lei- 
 sure employed ? What matter was the subject of 
 it? Retired from the world, did thy thoughts fly 
 upwards ? Didst thou find thyself drawn towards 
 God and Christ ; that thou wast inclined to sacred 
 reflection; the tendency of thy soul, as if it had 
 been influenced by an attractive principle, directing 
 thy thoughts towards the point of seriousness? Or 
 wast thou not at that time engaged upon some im- 
 portant schem.e of interest or honour? upon some 
 trifle lately enjoyed, or of which thou wast in expec- 
 tation ? Was it thus that hour was spent ? And 
 are thy retired (I mean not thy devotional) hours 
 like unto it ? Surely thou thinkest as the careless 
 doth ; thou art a stranger to the pious spirit which 
 possesses the new creature's breast. — Yet again, 
 
 (3.) The new creature doth not entertain defiling 
 thoughts in his heart. Proud, uncharitable, worldly, 
 lustful suggestions, may be starting up in the mind; 
 although less and less, more seldom and more faintly, 
 as we advance toward perfection. But the inquiry 
 
195 
 
 is, What entertainment they meet with? Are they 
 not suddenly observed and speedily cast out ? Doth 
 the mind dwell upon them, raising contrivances to 
 put them in execution ? Above all, is there little 
 else which passes through the mind, insomuch that 
 the soul feeds upon them continually? God, who 
 trieth the heart and reins, sees nothing but filthiness 
 and defilement abiding with such. What matter 
 forms, if this be the case? Or v/here can be the 
 difference between the decent, or the open careless 
 sinner ? God requireth '' truth in the inward 
 parts;" and, behold "an heart unwashed from wick- 
 edness, nothin(r but vain thouohts lod^e there." 
 
 But the thoughts of the righteous are right; he 
 suppresses all sinful imaginations; he will not enter- 
 tain such disagreeable guests. It grieves him, that 
 impurities should be pressing into the temple of 
 God. But he harbours them not, would not show 
 them the least courtesy, not knowingly doth he 
 give them the least consent. Do they return again 
 and again ? He still refuses them, still casts thern 
 out, ashamed that he is so little master of his own 
 heart. He doth not sit down and feed his mind 
 with pompous reviews of the honour, wealth, or 
 fame, that distinguish him in his generation, nor 
 timuse and lose himself in imaginary distant scenes 
 of worldly blessings, or carnal pleasures, which are 
 but in expectation. He keeps his thoughts close as 
 he can to present duty and the occurrences of the 
 instant day, leaving the morrow to God, the disposer 
 of it, the dispenser of all its events. He takes no 
 thought for the morrow, in the largest sense the 
 I 2 
 
196 
 
 words can bear ; finding, that " sufficient unto the 
 day is the evil thereof." In a word, he is such an 
 enemy to sin, that he cannot patiently endure it in 
 the most secret thoughts of his heart. There is a 
 spring upon his soul, which perpetually and forcibly 
 acts against all vain imaginations; though, neverthe- 
 less, he is not without suspicions, that he may often 
 irive them some unobserved consent. He knows 
 that he hath no " lie in his right hand," when, in 
 the sacied words of inspiration, he makes his most 
 devout and importunate petition to the Father of 
 heaven: " Renew a right spirit within me; try my 
 heart and my reins; cleanse me from secret faults; 
 let the meditations of my heart be acceptable in thy 
 sight, O Lord my strength and my Redeemer. O 
 mention me in the book of remembrance which is 
 written before thee, for them which fear the Lord, 
 and have thought upon his name." 
 
 To state the whole of this matter in the shortest 
 compass. — It is the way of a natural man to think 
 unseriously even of the most serious things : of a 
 renewed man, to sanctify the most ordinary occur- 
 rences, in his manner of thinking of them. It is 
 the way of the unhumbled mind, to be inapt to holy 
 meditation in the hours of leisure and retirement ; 
 the thoughts of the new creature, upon such occa- 
 sions, settle easily upon spiritual and heavenly things. 
 It is an evidence of an unchanged heart, that evil 
 thoughts do dwell upon, and possess themselves of 
 the mind: it is the proof of a new spirit, that such 
 suggestions are quickly seen, stoutly resisted, and 
 guddcnly rejected, and that there is a certain longing 
 
197 
 
 and labouring of soul to possess a greater mastery- 
 over, and freedom from them. 
 
 2. From thoughts I pass on to words, the most 
 ready expression of the thoughts of the heart, and 
 evident tokens of the frame and temper of soul which 
 abides within: " For out of the abundance of the 
 heart the mouth speaketh," whether it be good or 
 ill. From hence it must follow, as an undeniable 
 consequence, that where the heart is renewed, the 
 speech will be seasoned ; although a savouriuess in 
 speech doth not always prove a wholesomeness and" 
 soundness of heart ; seeing good breeding, formality, 
 or hypocrisy, shall be found to make the mouth 
 clean, when the heart is all rotten and defiled. But 
 these are points unquestionably certain, that where 
 the speech is naught, the heart is so too; and that 
 when the heart is changed, there will be an holy 
 and advised use of the tongue. 
 
 " By thy words thou shalt be justified, and by 
 thy words thou shalt be condemned." Hear there- 
 fore and understand : for out of thine own mouth 
 will 1 condemn thee, thou wanton sinner, thou too 
 easy formalist. 
 
 Your tongue is licentious, it runs at random. I 
 charge you not with lewdness, or profaneness, or in- 
 civility, or falsity, in your speech : but you have no 
 bridle upon your tongue; there is no holy constraint 
 upon you ; your tongue goeth through the world at 
 large, regardless of the unprofitableness and vanity 
 there is in your talk, of the unmeaning damage you 
 may do your neighbour, or the dishonour you may 
 bring upon God. You say, " with our tongues we 
 
198 
 
 will speak; our lips are our own ; who is Lord over 
 us ?" But you want that purpose of heart, that your 
 mouth shall not transgress; so that you talk incon- 
 siderately, and your tongue, void of all reverent fear, 
 wantons with an unadvised rashness upon every mat- 
 ter whereof you speak. Your heart light, and your 
 tongue let loose, you say what you will, without far- 
 ther reflection. 
 
 Not so the renewed person. He not only says, 
 I will, hut actually does, take heed to his ways, that 
 he offend not in his tongue. His " tongue is kept 
 as with a bridle; he marks what he says; dares not 
 speak what he thinks not, or does not judge meet to 
 be spoken ; is upon his guard that he do not drop 
 an idle or a rash word: if he do, it is observed and 
 condemned. His tongue is brought under a hw.^ 
 He keepeth his mouth : " doth not answer before 
 he heareth ; doth not foolishly utter all his mind, but 
 keepeth it in till afterwards." He hath found that 
 in many words are divers vanities ; wherefore he 
 walks after Solomon's counsel; he spareth his words; 
 they are gracious, and they are few. 
 
 See what a difference there is between the 
 manner of the one and the other: just as wide as 
 between unadvisedness and caution, licentiousness 
 and godly fear. If your tongue be under no rule, 
 and at least none but that of decency and civihty, 
 and you know not to hold it in awe for God, heaven, 
 and your soul's sake, it is a shrewd argument of an 
 unbroken heart. But if your tongue be under a 
 sacred subjection; if you bridle, confine, and keep a 
 strait hand upon it, it is a good and continual proof 
 
199 
 
 of a converted heart. So the wise man determin- 
 eth : <« The heart of the righteous studieth to an- 
 swer;" it is with consultation and recjard that a ijood 
 man speaks : " hut the mouth of the wicked pour- 
 eth out evil things ;" rashness and vanity pour out oF 
 his mouth, without thought and without end. 
 
 Again, if your heart be unchanged, you will be 
 using your tongue as convenience serves. When a 
 man's tongue turns about with every company, and 
 is ready for every purpose ; when it is made the ser- 
 vant of all occasions, is prostituted to the views of in- 
 terest, reputation or lust; and speaks not what con- 
 science, but what .present convenience dictates: when 
 it can be smooth and flatter with the great, hath a 
 sober v^^ord among the serious, nor stands out for a 
 lewd jest, (decently wrapt up, it may be,) if it be the 
 humour; surely "there is no faithfulness in such a 
 mouth, and the inward parts must be very wick- 
 edness." 
 
 But now, the *' good man, out of the good trea- 
 sure of his heart, bringeth forth good things. His 
 speech is always with grace, seasoned with salt. He 
 speaketh the truth from his heart:" this is his main 
 care; not lying for God, nor to serve any present 
 turn. And then his tongue is his instrument, where- 
 by to glorify God, and to profit his neighbour. He 
 labours,, that his words be weighty, serious, edifying, 
 courteous. Hear the furniture of his mouth, how 
 full of grace his lips are ! He hath a word for 
 God, and a word for souls; a word for the righteous, 
 and a word for the wicked; a word for comfort, and 
 a word for reproof; a word for peace, and a word for 
 
200 
 
 charity; a word for the absent, and a word for the 
 slanderer; a word for the oppressed, and a word for 
 the oppressor: all which words he brings forth as 
 need is, and uses with sincerity and resolution, 
 quickening as goads, and close " as nails fastened 
 by the masters of the assemblies." Not studying to 
 please, so much as to benefit those with whom he 
 converses. 
 
 Say, thou man of double tongue, whose mouth 
 easily accommodates itself to every worldly respect, 
 turning round with thy interests and the counte- 
 nances of others, how doth he stand in wide opposi- 
 tion to thee? He would approve himself to God, 
 thou to men; he speaks not, as thou dost, for his 
 own ends, but to edification; his communicative 
 member is employed soberly, not vainly; faithfully, 
 not deceitfully; meekly, not haughtily; kindly, not 
 roughly; lovingly, not cruelly and unfeelingly to 
 others. — Look well to this, I entreat you. It is a 
 great matter, and a notable fruit of the renewed 
 mind. For St. James saith, " If any man offend 
 not in word, the same is a perfect man.^' None is 
 a new creature whose tongue is not under this dis- 
 cipline: but where the new creature is within, all 
 this will be familiar and genuine. 
 
 Once more, if you are the new creature, you will 
 take the name of God into your mouth with an aw- 
 ful and religious reverence. — Alas! for the insolent 
 wretches, who can trifle with the glorious and fear- 
 ful name. The Lord our God ! Whether shall we 
 more lament the dishonour ye do to our God, or the 
 ruin which is fallen upon your impenitent heads? Ye 
 
^01 
 
 sport of Satan ! Ye engines which he raises up 
 against God to defy him to his face! Whetlier ye 
 be they who bellow out mad cursings, and call down 
 God to see your falsehoods, anger, revenge^ and vain 
 humours: or whether they who reverence not the 
 oaths ye take; either knowing that ye swear falsely, 
 or not carefully performing the obligations ye have 
 thus solemnly bound upon you: one and the other, 
 how far must ye needs be from God, who can treat 
 him in this manner without trembling! And ye 
 too, who can approach this house of worship, and 
 speak to God with a most affronting indifference, as 
 if he were not worth the regarding; or with an af- 
 fected devotion, as if he could be pleased with com- 
 pliments. Merciful God ! how much farther wilt 
 thou suffer us to go? Nothing but thine own in- 
 finite patience could possibly endure under such in- 
 solence ! — These are the provokings of the natural 
 man. 
 
 The new creature, on the contrary, treats the 
 very name of God with respect; doth not slightly 
 introduce it into his ordinary conversation, as the 
 manner of some is : nor lightly worship him with a 
 cold and wandering heart. He would not speak of 
 God without need; and when he speaks of him, it 
 is with all reverent regard. He doth not babble, he 
 neither knows nor conceives what when he prays : 
 he worships, as he can, " in spirit and in truth." 
 He is not rash with his mouth ; he is not hasty to 
 utter any thing before God; for God is in heaven, 
 and he upon earth. 
 
 Remark it well : You shall find this reverent re- 
 13 
 
202 
 
 gard of God's name no small mark of difference be- 
 tween a good and ill heart. When the soul is pos- 
 sessed with any becoming impressions of the divine 
 Majesty and presence, the tongue is holden with an 
 awful restraint, nor can any longer trifle with se- 
 rious things : the whole man bows before God, and 
 the mouth humbly confesses the difference which the 
 soul feels to be between the infinite God and sinful 
 dust and ashes. When a man is brought into the 
 presence, however slightly he might have treated 
 majesty before, it now strikes and awes him ; nor 
 does lie dare speak, but respectfully and reverently. 
 But the sinner speaks of and to God without fear, 
 because he is not introduced, — because his soul 
 knows not what it is to stand before the presence of 
 the Almighty. 
 
 Cast back your eye now, and review the ground 
 we have passed. Consider the peculiar character of 
 the ne%<o creature : how greatly he thinks ; how ex- 
 altedly he speaks. Do you not approve him, how- 
 ever unlike him you are; wish that even thus you 
 thought and spake ; yea, envy him that he stands in 
 a light so much above you ? A Christian indeed is 
 a man, a reasonable creature; a light, which draws 
 the eye, and engages the heart; whose property it 
 is to make manifest and reprove the works of dark- 
 ness. Go, ye children of the night, and lament 
 your stupidity, that ye are thus far from that conduct 
 which ye dare not condemn; go and learn, that 
 amidst all the ease, wealth, and security of the world, 
 the meanest Christian is one incomparably beyond 
 you in every thing truly valuable; and remember. 
 
203 
 
 that wliile your hopes shall assuredly perish, his 
 shall remain throughout all generations. 
 
 But I leave this with you for the present. The 
 solemn transaction before us demands our atten- 
 tion.* 
 
 I must hope, that all of you who are drawing near 
 to remember Jesus Christ, and to partake of the 
 pledges of his love, in the ordinance uow before us, 
 have in general been able to make application to 
 yourselves of the Christian's character, as far as you 
 have heard it described hitherto : at least, that ye 
 have clearly seen that the description of the natural 
 man, whether careless or formal, doth not suit you ; 
 and that ye evidently find in yourselves a sincere de- 
 sire, and an earnest purpose of heart, to reach after 
 that v/hich ye are apt to think ye have not yet at- 
 tained of the new creature. If any one discovers 
 a point of holiness before him which he hath not 
 reached, and yet doth not experience any strong de- 
 sire to come up to it, he wants one of the main feel- 
 ings of a renewed mind, " hungering and thirsting 
 after righteousness," and does not belong to Christ. 
 Such a one, in the use of the communion, is likely 
 to do nothing more than blind his eyes and harden 
 his heart. Supposing, therefore, that such as are 
 determined for the feast are in general partakers of 
 the new nature, and seeking growth and improve- 
 ment in this wonderful change that hath been wrought 
 upon them^ I may suitably suggest to them, 
 
 * This Sermon was preached before the dispensation of the 
 Lord's Supper. 
 
204 
 
 1. The fitness of all thankful acknowledgment 
 to their Head, as the author of this their new birth. 
 Ye were naturally dead in trespasses and sins; had 
 not the least spark belonging to you of those gra- 
 cious dispositions, which now adorn your souls, and 
 cause you to lift up your heads with hope. That 
 you are now alive from the dead is, because Christ 
 liveth in you: for God hath quickened you through 
 him. This ye have received out of his fulness. 
 Go then, and present unto him your grateful praises, 
 in the way he hath appointed you. Go with most 
 humble thanksgivings, with sentiments of acknow- 
 ledgment, which labour to be proportionate to the 
 vastness of the blessing he hath bestowed upon you, 
 in visiting you in your low state, and turning you from 
 darkness to light, and from the power of Satan unto 
 God. Cold we shall be in the remembrance of our 
 Master's death, if there be not some hope of an in- 
 terest in the merits of it. But if our hope is grown 
 up to confidence in him, because he hath created us 
 again, and we have found ourselves Jiexv creatures,^ then 
 our acts of praise will not fail of being hearty before 
 him, and full of the most determined protestations of 
 duty and service to the Lord our Redeemer. And 
 hereupon I shall remind you, 
 
 2. That if you are the new creature, Christ is 
 yours, and the promises yours : so that, upon this 
 ground, you may surely apply Christ to yourself in 
 this sacramental seal. For hereby Christ is actually 
 sealed, in all the scope of his benefits, to those who 
 are his; that is, to those whom his Spirit hath al- 
 ready transformed by the renevval of their hearts and 
 
S05 
 
 lives. To them the elements of bread and wine, as 
 instituted signs and seals of the new covenant, are, 
 sacraraentally, the body and blood of Christ, accord- 
 ing to his words of institution, " This is my body, 
 this is my blood." Be strong then in faith, nothhig 
 doubting. Be assured, that lie is faithful who hath 
 promised; and take Christ unto you as yours, not 
 only signified, but confirmed to you by these pledges 
 and assurances of his favour. Nor let the appre- 
 hension you have of your very great unworthiness, 
 prevent your expectation, that ye should not partake 
 of the free gift of God; but, drawing near with faith, 
 take this holy sacrament, to your comfort. May 
 your souls be refreshed ! May ye go forward, in 
 the influence of that refreshment, from strength to 
 strength, till ye come unto the mount of God. 
 Yet, 
 
 3. Remember, that you have not yet attained. 
 The new man, formed in you as he is, wants 
 strength, growth, and vigour. You have found 
 yourself imperfect in every particular, while 1 have 
 been describing to you the new creature. But you 
 labour to go on unto perfection. And shall not 
 what you have already received, serve as an earnest 
 to give you confidence, that you shall receive more 
 from him *' who giveth liberally, and upbraideth 
 not;" who doth not grudge that we have received 
 much already, but saith, " Open thy mouth wide, 
 and I wdll fill it ?" Approach, then, with thankful 
 boldness to this feast of fat things, this of all others 
 the most plenteous channel where grace flows, the 
 ordinance of Christ's appointment, wherein he con- 
 
206 
 
 veys liis whole self; carrying with thee these gra- 
 cious words of his, " If any man thirst, let him 
 come unto me and drink." Come, athirst as thou 
 art, for the needful supply of the Spirit, to mortify 
 more effectually thy corruptions; to blunt the edge 
 of all the temptations wherewith sin, the world, and 
 Satan beset thee ; to quicken thee in every way of 
 holiness. Come with thy particular needs : what 
 is the sin that mostly assails thee; what the lust that 
 inveterately strives for the mastery; what the grace 
 that is in a languishing state? Come, eat and drink 
 to the satisfying of thy soul. Amen. 
 
SERMON IX- 
 
 THE BELIEVER A NEW CREATURE. 
 
 2 Cor. v. 17. 
 
 If any man be in Christ, he is a new creature. 
 
 Shall I hope, that in the days past you have 
 been attentively weighing your thoughts and words? 
 This is to digest the food that is ministered unto you 
 every Lord's day. In such a case, you must have 
 attained to a clearer determination, from the obser- 
 vation and inquiry you have been making, which 
 way you are disposed, what manner of spirit you are 
 of, whether regenerate or carnal. Consequently, 
 you will be now in the spirit of meekness ready for 
 farther discovery in self-knowledge, and better pre- 
 pared for improvement from what I am still to offer. 
 But if by any it was heedlessly forgotten; if by any 
 desperately cast by, as soon as it had been heard; if 
 such as had seen a little what manner of men they 
 were, in the glass then presented before them, have 
 gone away, and quickly lost sight of the deformed 
 appearance they made in their own eyes; or, if there 
 were any scoffers among you, too forward to blas- 
 pheme the word of truth, and cry, " What would 
 
208 
 
 this babbler say? He seemeth to be a setter forth 
 of stranore" doctrmes : with the one or the other of 
 these, how shall I almost hope for better success? 
 It were vanity to hope it, were what we speak but 
 the reasonings of man; but the word is God's, 
 " mighty to pull down strong holds," and " the 
 hand of God is not shortened;" it can seize and fix 
 the most unsettled and careless ; it can strike to the 
 o-round the most stubborn, and make the insolent 
 persecutor cry out, " What shall I do ?" 
 
 Under the influence of this might I go on to re- 
 present to you, one and another, the new creature's 
 course of action. And this negatively, what he doth 
 not do; and positiveli/, what he doth. 
 
 But before I proceed to the negative description 
 of the new creature, I must beg to be discharged for 
 a season from the confinement I have hitherto, for 
 the most part, been under, in representing tlie vari- 
 ous characters of formality and carelessness. Hence- 
 forward they do so coincide, that I am not able to 
 discern any difference. Formality shall be seen, as 
 it is, real carelessness; and the most abandoned pro- 
 fligate shall be found distinguished from such a one, in 
 degree only of carelessness. I shall not oppose to 
 the Christian, the monster v.ho goes into every excess 
 of riot, and casts off all restraints, even of civility 
 and society: but, as we shall follow the new creature 
 only into the lesser parts of his conduct, wherein he 
 stands singular and acts alone, so the opposition will 
 be made in such a manner, as, while license or allow- 
 ance in such lesser things shall be found to denomi- 
 nate an unrenewed man, there shall be room given 
 
^09 
 
 to reprove those who are too apt to conceit much ol 
 themselves for the sake of some religious perfor- 
 mances, and acts of benevolence and humanity; and, 
 of consequence, to leave the more licentious utterly 
 without excuse. 
 
 The negative part of the new creature's conduct 
 shall be illustrated in these instances : — He forbears 
 all things which he knows to be sinful; — hath not 
 any thing in his course, which he suspects to be sin- 
 ful; — keeps from needless temptations; — doth not 
 come under the power of any lawful thing; — labours 
 to give no offence in any thing. 
 
 1. He forbears all things which he knows to be 
 sinful. In this respect, his *' conscience is void of 
 offence, both towards God and towards man." For, 
 to it he can appeal, and it will make a ready and 
 express answer to him, and he knows nothing by 
 himself. There is no sin in this course that he 
 knows of; no, not the least sin, as far as he appre- 
 hends. I would not be mistaken, as if I meant he 
 had no imperfections to. lament, no sin to contend 
 with, or that his corrupted heart did at no time gain 
 any advantage of him. But I say, sin is not in his 
 course, nor hath any sin allowance with him. The 
 law in his members will be striving, will be insinuat- 
 ing itself into all he doth; possibly will take him, 
 upon some extraordinary occasion, at unawares, and 
 hurry him into a single act of compliance. But if 
 at any time it doth so, his tender heart will be in- 
 stantly stricken ; he will be sadly reproaching him- 
 self, and roaring for the disquietness of his heart ; 
 shame, sorrow, and darkness, will overwhelm and 
 
no 
 
 cloud him ; he will be seeking peace and finding 
 none for a season; he will assuredly judge himself 
 the greatest monster upon earth. The real Chris- 
 tian is an avowed enemy to all sin: nor can the 
 weight of prevailing example, the misinterpretations 
 which men of looser conscience put upon things, the 
 foolish thought that some sins are but little matters; 
 nothing can engage him to call evil good, or to ad- 
 mit into his conduct what he knov/s God doth not 
 approve. 
 
 If this be true, then whoever abides under the 
 power and practice of any known sin, cannot be a 
 new creature. Doth conscience say (and let it speak) 
 you have about you, in your course and conduct, 
 one, the smallest thing, which Is sinful? Is it ac- 
 cusing you of any one point wherein you offend, 
 which you will either allow yourself in, or else fall 
 into customarily, that is, as the temptation to it 
 comes in your way ? Hearken to no excuses ; all 
 pretences you shall be forming are vain. Be as- 
 sured, that your heart is not right, that you have 
 not been transformed in the inner man by the re- 
 newing of your mind, that you have no part in Christ. 
 Whatever you may have conceited from any mis- 
 taken applications of the new creature's character to 
 yourself, in the branches of it which you have al- 
 ready heard, you are entirely deceived; this one sin 
 convinces you, and casts you out. Nor cheat your- 
 self any longer into a persuasion, that the sin you 
 practice is not with your allowance. You may seem 
 to be sorry for it, may stoutly resolve against it; but 
 if you customarily fall into it again and again, plain 
 
211 
 
 it is, no change hath been wrought upon your heart. 
 You do not apprehend its deformity, your will doth 
 not heartily refuse it ; and if you will be at the pains 
 to examine, you may easily find yourself a stranger 
 to the feelings of a new creature concerning it ; hat- 
 red big with loathing as you look at it ; sorrow pierc- 
 ing your heart as you reflect what a monster it hath 
 made you ; and fear filling you with anxious sus- 
 picion, lest it should again overtake you. He, 
 therefore, that is in the practice of any known sin, 
 great or little, is not renewed. And when sin 
 abounds as it doth this day, how many professed 
 Christians must this one word exclude from the kino;- 
 dom of Christ, and convince to be of another kin^- 
 dom than his ! For whosoever " committeth sin is 
 of the devil : but whosoever is born of God, doth 
 not commit sin ; for his seed remaineth in him ; and 
 he cannot sin, because he is born of God." 
 
 Suffer me to add yet one word to those, who are 
 continuing in the practice of known sin, and yet 
 make excuse. I will suppose your sin to be drun- 
 kenness: and too much reason I have to suppose it 
 may. You do not get drunk wilfully, you say; 
 you are caught unadvisedly. I grant all which 
 you mean; I allow, that you do not set yourself to 
 get drunk; that you have no premeditated design of 
 defying God, and making yourself a beast; that you 
 do it, not seeing God's majesty just before your 
 eyes, the flaming vengeance of his arm stretched 
 out against you, forbidding you, and charging your 
 very soul, " See thou do it not." This would be 
 sinning wilfully with a vengeance; and yet this is 
 
212 
 
 all you mean, the best excuse you have to plead. 
 No, I suppose you have no such thoughts as these ; 
 verily, I believe you have no design to ofFend God 
 upon such occasions. But your sin is wilful, never- 
 theless. You choose the glass and a friend. This 
 is the prevailing bias with you : this is your will, 
 when you can enjoy it. And doth not that incli- 
 nation lead you into company suited to the purpose, 
 and that company into excess? It is not in any de- 
 sign of being drunk, but in your being under the 
 guidance of this bad inclination, that the wilfulness 
 of your sin consists; it is because you hearken to it^ 
 and not to grace and conscience. Consider, if this 
 be not the very case. You are overtaken; it makes 
 you uneasy; you dread the consequences which 
 threaten you ; you are determined against it for the 
 future : and yet, by and by, it prevails again. I be- 
 seech you, why so, if your heart be not desperately 
 set upon indulgence, and you cannot refuse yourself 
 the gratification which it craves? Your will is still 
 perverse; and all the fair promises you make do but 
 serve to deceive you. It is easy to carry this remark 
 into any other sin which men repeatedly fall into. 
 But I have instanced in the sin of drunkenness, 
 because of the especial need there is I should bear 
 testimony against it; having reason to believe, that 
 this way of drinking and repenting of it (as it will 
 be called,) is the practice of too many among you. 
 
 2. The new creature hath not any thing in his 
 course, which he suspects to be sinful. This will 
 prove a notable mark of the difference between a re- 
 newed and an unrenewed mind. 
 
213 
 
 Are you one of those who go on adventurously, 
 without fear and caution; either not at all apt to 
 suspect, that there may be sin in many things you 
 do; or, if you have suspicion of somewhat or other 
 not altogether right, yet passing it over without se- 
 rious inquiry, as a thing of little consequence, and 
 what the generality do not stick at? Have you 
 some suspicious things in your course, which you 
 have not carefully examined ; industriously turned 
 your thoughts away from an inquisitive search into 
 them; and some, which you cannot persuade your 
 conscience to approve? Are you rash and hardy in 
 this manner, your conscience not tenderly swaying 
 you to the safer side? You may not think that 
 your heart is changed; that you love God, hate sin, 
 and are more afraid of committing it, than of the 
 sorest present evil; the fear of doing what is sinful, 
 outweighing whatever convenience or pleasure the 
 suspected action could be able to promise you. You 
 have no more pretence to the simplicity and godly 
 sincerity of the new creature, than the rash youth, 
 who drives his vessel forward without regard to rocks 
 or sands that may be in her way, can set up for the 
 title and character of an experienced, cautious, and 
 good pilot. 
 
 Just the contrary to this is the manner of one 
 who is renewed in the spirit of his mind. With him 
 the rule stands good, " whatsoever is not of faith, is 
 sin." Whatever he suspects, he stops to search it 
 out, bringing it to the law and the testimony: nor 
 will do what is not determined to be allowable, any 
 more than what he perfectly knows to be wrong. 
 
214 
 
 He cloth not hearken to scruples indeed, after faith- 
 ful inquiry, though he still keeps his mind open to 
 better information ; but he dares not do any doubt- 
 ful thing, without inquiry. Still he keeps on the 
 safe side. He cannot clearly determine upon it : 
 it may be sinful, for ought he knows ; he cannot 
 do amiss, if he abstain. Like a person travelling 
 in a bad or miry road, if he see the way suspicious 
 at any time, he turns out of it. Or rather, like 
 an honest servant, if he suspects any thing may 
 prove injurious to his master's interest, he avoids 
 it, and would charge himself with unfaithfulness, 
 should he adventure upon it. The new creature 
 hates sin with an irreconcilable hatred ; and when 
 any thing looks doubtful ; when he knows not what 
 to make of it, whether it be sinful or not; the sa- 
 cred jealousy rouses his disgust, and he " passes 
 by on the other side." Thus he keeps his course 
 clear; the practice of no doubtful thing clogs him ; 
 he submits not to the very suspicion of evil. He 
 can approach in these honest sentiments : " Lord, 
 behold thy servant ; thou seest the simplicity of my 
 heart, that I fear nothincr so much as I do the offend- 
 ing of thee ; yea, thou scest that I dare not, that 
 I v.'ould not, adventure into the least thing which 
 might displease thee. Holy Father, thou hast 
 taught me to hate all evil ways ; and to the praise 
 of thy grace I will avouch it, that thou hast set me 
 this day free from all suspected evil in my allowed 
 course !" Looking about upon his business, his 
 company, his amusements, he can make this appeal 
 to the Searcher of hearts. And herein, how will 
 
215 
 
 he be distinguished from those, who are neither 
 apt to suspect any thing, nor to heed the risings of 
 suspicion, when the conscience doubts and gives 
 warning of sin ! 
 
 3. The renewed man keeps from all needless 
 temptations. By temptations, I mean any thing 
 which may be the instrument of leading and draw- 
 ing into sin; of seducing the heart into pride and 
 vanity, into worldiy-mindedness and dishonesty, into 
 lewdness, drunkenness, gluttony, or idleness. Pride, 
 worldliness, and lust, are the strong-holds of sin ; 
 and all that is about us affords continual matter for 
 inflaming the one and the other within us. Especially 
 apt to ensnare the heart are, eminence of any sort 
 and being distinguished, perpetual hurry of business, 
 a careless round of amusement in the midst of ease; 
 and all these lie on every hand of us. 
 
 This the man, whose soul is fashioned for heaven, 
 knows; he sees himself set in the midst of many 
 dangers, and is afraid of all these things which are 
 in the world. In every thing he finds a snare; and 
 holds off, as well as he m^ay, from whatever might 
 corrupt the purity and integrity of his heart. He 
 lives at a distance from riotous company and bois- 
 terous mirth; passes by the doors of lewdness; nor 
 makes the vain person his fiimiliar friend. Fie en- 
 ters into business with religious fear; is content, if 
 he be not rich; if he be, is the more afraid; nor will 
 take more upon him, than consistently with his 
 greater interests he can manage. He doth not set 
 himself loose in pursuit of advancement and honour: 
 and he will be cautious in meddling with inquiries 
 
216 
 
 which are only curious. He will give as little oc- 
 casion to lust, or love of the present world, or vanity, 
 to take advantage of him, as he possibly can: and 
 where aught looks toward sin, he will not needlessly 
 run upon it. I cannot better illustrate, the conduct 
 of a good man, with regard to temptations, than by 
 comparing him to a fearful person confined in a place 
 where some pestilential disease rages. Such a one, 
 you may well think, would not be running hazards; 
 would cautiously avoid, as much as possibly he could, 
 the people and the places which might give him the 
 infection. He could not be out of danger in such 
 a circumstance; no doubt, he must sometimes bring 
 himself unadvisedly into danger; but it would be his 
 greatest and prevailing care to keep himself from 
 being infected. Just such another infected place 
 the good man finds the world to be ; sick with the 
 pestilence of sin ; and every thing which is in it, 
 spreading the infection to those that dwell thereon. 
 He is shut up in it; he cannot escape: but with how 
 much peculiar and incomparable fear doth he walk, 
 because the disease which overspreads it is so utterly 
 deadly ! He will be as little in the way of the in- 
 fection as it is possible; and if he be drawn unwarily 
 into a temptation, he will remark it for a future 
 caution. Say, thou child of God, art thou not even 
 thus fearful of temptations ? Fearful of them, be- 
 cause thou fearest being drawn into sin ? Every 
 day of thy life shall witness for thee, that thou dar- 
 est not venture upon needless danger; that as far 
 as may be, and with all the prudence thou canst 
 use, thou keepest thyself from temptation, living as 
 
217 
 
 in a world infected with sin. Yes, thou fearest 
 temptation, because thou hatest sin; because thou 
 hast tasted the gall and wormwood there is in it; 
 because thou grievest for the wounds it gave thy 
 dearest Lord. 
 
 If this be thy case, how different art thou from 
 what possibly thyself once was, from what others are ! 
 Men, who live in the midst of danger without fear, 
 adventure, ever and anon, into temptations ; nor con- 
 sider, that these are the doors by which sin o-ains 
 admittance: who sin, and complain of their weak- 
 ness; and yet sin again, and are again self-reproved; 
 but will not avoid the snares by which they fall. O 
 the insincerity of these men! frail as water, and yet 
 abiding resolutely in circumstances, where even the 
 strength and constancy of an apostle could not but 
 falter. Alas! my friends, why is the careless per- 
 son your companion? And why are you causelessly 
 to be found within the walls where debauchery and 
 lust dwell? Why are you loading yourselves with 
 cares which you cannot manage, and do not need? 
 Why will ye be pressing so importunately after dis- 
 tinction, and pre-eminence, and wealth ? Why all 
 this, unless that ye are possessed with a secret crav- 
 ing after present gratification, and your hearts are 
 unacquainted with seeking after, and delight in the 
 Lord? But, 
 
 4. The true-hearted Christian doth not come 
 under the power of any lawful thing. Hitherto we 
 have seen him steering his course through what is 
 unlawful, whether sin known, or sin suspected, or 
 needless temptation. We must see now how he orders 
 K 19 
 
218 
 
 himself in things lawful, yet capable of abuse: how 
 wary he is that they do not hurt him ; that his soul 
 receive no damage in the use he makes of them. 
 
 It is a needful as well as lawful thing to wear 
 decent and becoming apparel; requisite it is that we 
 take the refreshments of meat, and drink, and sleep; 
 it is allowed that men may use proper recreations. 
 But, according to the manner of using them, they 
 become hurtful or not. Easy it is to see that we 
 may dress vainly; eat, drink, and sleep with indul- 
 gence; and both forget ourselves, and lose much 
 time in recreation. So that it is a silly, though but 
 too common saying, " What harm is there in such 
 things?" Why truly, none at all in the things 
 themselves, but a great deal in the abuse of them, 
 or, as the apostle calls it, the being " brought under 
 the power of them." If you dress beyond your 
 station, puffing up your heart with finery; if you eat 
 and drink to the pampering your body ; or sleep 
 without moderation, stupifying your soul by such 
 indulgences ; if your recreations disorder the frame 
 of your mind, rendering you less, instead of more 
 fit for the more serious offices of devotion and busi- 
 ness : surely there is some harm in all this; and 
 whoever shall indulge in the use of these lawful 
 things, in this manner, to the evident hinderance of 
 his soul, may be assured that he cannot be of the 
 new creature's character. Nor tell me these are 
 little things. If they be so, and yet you continue 
 enslaved by them, so much a stronger evidence they 
 become of a cold and unrenewed heart dwelling in 
 you. In truth, little as they may seem, they keep 
 
^19 
 
 your soul in a ruinous state ; yours, and I fear ten 
 thousand others. To convince you, in a word, (for 
 I must not stay to enlarge) when you will rather in- 
 dulge yourself in bed, than get up to meet God in 
 prayer, and to be about your business; and will be 
 eating and drinking to the full, instead of " keeping 
 your body under, and bringing it into subjection," 
 by a moderate diet: when you are contriving your 
 dress for vanity more than for use and decency : when 
 you will use those very recreations which you find by 
 experience are inconsistent with a religious turn of 
 mind, rendering you perpetually forgetful and vain; 
 how can you once think that you mind things above, 
 love God, delight in keeping his commandments; 
 that you are seeking his everlasting favour and pre- 
 sence through Jesus Christ; that you have the least 
 resemblance of a miserable sinner, labouring for sal- 
 vation, and pressing after the high prize of his calling, 
 with fear and trembling, lest by any means he should 
 come short of it ? 
 
 Hear how differently the new creature uses all 
 these things. He sleeps for refreshment only: and 
 when that hath been obtained, he bethinks himself 
 in such a way as this: " Away, thou ease, which 
 wert not made for man ! We must be up, my soul, 
 to bless God for the protection of the night; to meet 
 him with our praises in the early morning. Let us 
 come before God to dress thee for the day. We 
 have precious hours before us, in which we may not 
 be idle. The glory of our God is intrusted with 
 us, the appointed labour of life must be gladly main- 
 tained. Up then, my soul, and ask the protection 
 K2 
 
2^0 
 
 of Heaven for the renewed day ! A day, wliich if 
 not the last we have to live, yet which will bring us 
 so much nearer the important eternity ! A day, for 
 the use of which we shall have need either to rejoice 
 or grieve, when our last sleep approacheth !" — He 
 clothes himself with decency, and for convenience. 
 Could you see his heart, you might read there, if 
 not these, yet some such serious reflections: " Our 
 parent was afraid and hid himself, because he was 
 naked; why, then, should we pride ourselves in that, 
 which was only given us to cover our shame? Sin 
 brought shame into the world; and that shame made 
 raiment needful. We can have little cause to boast 
 of that which is the standing badge of our reproach 
 and sin. I will put you on to hide the shame of 
 man; to remind me that I am a fallen creature. I 
 may not be proud of you : ye might have been ano- 
 ther's, and not mine: but thankfully, according to 
 my station in life, I will use you as a defence, which 
 God provided for my weak body against the heat, 
 the rain, and the cold." — He eats too, and drinks 
 with moderation, to preserve the health and vigour 
 of his body, not to indulge his palate. Blessing 
 and praising God for the supply of his good things 
 afforded him, he "puts the knife to his throat," care- 
 ful that he do not abuse the Giver in the use of them; 
 not stupifying his senses, nor injuring his reason, nor 
 nursing up his body for lust. He would not have 
 his body become less serviceable, by too much or too 
 little self-denial; but keeping a due mean, that it 
 may be fit for, and subservient to the purposes of 
 the soul. — His recreations also are with much con- 
 
221 
 
 sultalion and advisedness. Those he chooses, which 
 are entirely innocent; such as he hath proved to be 
 no way hurtful to the religious frame and temper of 
 his soul. He will have none of those amusements, 
 which shall engage all his thoughts long before they 
 come, and leave him almost incapable of reflection 
 when they are over; more confused and burdened 
 than they found him. Nor will he spend much time 
 in them : they are his little intervals of relaxation 
 from the serious and important affairs of life, that he 
 may return to them again with recruited and new 
 vigour. — Thus he uses these lawful things, becom- 
 ingly heedful of them and indifferent to them. And 
 hereby, as he shows an entire contrariety from those, 
 who live as if made on purpose to dress, indulge, 
 and squander away time; so also, a continual and 
 excellent testimony of the more noble and higher 
 regards which possess his heart. 
 
 5. To complete the negative part of his character, 
 as it relates to external conduct, I add in the last 
 place, that he labours to give no offence in any thing. 
 And how great the difference here ! How clear the 
 most convincing evidences of the renewed and un- 
 
 o 
 
 changed heart ! While the tender regard of the 
 one bears an amiable resemblance of the love of Je- 
 sus, and the indifference of the other is but too much 
 like the cruelty of his enemy. 
 
 You will not forbear your own way, to please or 
 profit any: will not consider your conduct, as oth- 
 ers are, or may be, affected by it. Nor retrench 
 any thing of your freedom, however much your 
 neighbour may be ensnared by the use you make of 
 
your liberty. You do not trouble yourself to think 
 about other people. Scripture bears the strongest 
 testimony against the character of which you are. 
 " It must needs be that offences come ; but woe to 
 that man, by whom the offence cometh. It were 
 better for him that a millstone were hanged about 
 his neck, and that he were drowned in the depths of 
 the sea, than that he should offend one of these lit- 
 tle ones." And why so, you will be apt to say ? 
 " Am I my brother's keeper ?" I have no design 
 of drawing him into sin ; I do not bid him follow 
 my example; nor desire that he should encourage 
 himself in doing ill, from the innocent freedoms 
 which I take. Nothing is farther from my thoughts 
 than being a snare and hinderance to others. While 
 therefore I do but follow my own humour, which 
 every man hath a right to do in indifferent matters, 
 why should the faults of others be thus laid at my 
 door ? For the plainest reason in the world : Be- 
 cause by such a conduct you give up the interests of 
 him whom you call your Master ; evidently showing 
 no concern about his kingdom and glory; and suf- 
 fering, with much indifference, Satan to gain ad- 
 vantage by your means. In truth, no less may be 
 said of it, you are doing the work of Satan, however 
 little you may design it. And judge now in con- 
 science, if you can be the child of God ! What ! 
 a child of God, and so void of all zeal for his ho- 
 nour, that you care not though you be the occasion 
 that his creatures, and your brethren, disgrace and 
 disobey him! A child of God, through Jesus 
 Christ; and so unlike him. through whom you call 
 
S23 
 
 God your Father, that you will not constrain your- 
 self in the least degree, to save those from ruin for 
 whose sake he shed his most valuable blood ! Surely, 
 upon reflection, you cannot believe it yourself: nor 
 is it any sort of excuse, that you have no thought 
 of seducing men into sin, or of hardening them in 
 it. Be it allowed, that you have no such thought; 
 that you do but go on your own w^ay, and follow your 
 own humour. Truly it is the very want of thought 
 about the matter which condemns you. This is the 
 very thing I insist upon, as the proof of your being 
 altogether out of the right way, and still alienated 
 from the life of God, that you have no thought 
 about the hurt which your conduct may possibly be 
 doing to others, or about the snares which your 
 use of allowed freedom may lead them into. Had 
 you been the serious character you profess, you 
 would both have thought of, and have directed your 
 conduct accordingly. 
 
 For it is the new creature's manner to mind the 
 things of others. Godly zeal and affectionate cha- 
 rity burn in his heart. He knows a thousand search- 
 ings of heart, for the glory of God trod down of 
 men, and for the many souls in the road to destruc- 
 tion. He cannot bear there should be the least 
 thing in his conduct, which mi^jht contribute to the 
 lamented scene of rebellion and ruin which he sees 
 about him: he knows not that there is any such 
 thing; he studies that there may be none. The 
 voice of compassion cries within him, it lifts up a 
 sorrowful lamentation: "I am horribly afraid for the 
 ungodly. How long, ye simple ones ! What ! till 
 
^4> 
 
 death, the messenger of the Lord, arrest you, and 
 judgment send you into hell ! I am troubled for 
 you, my brethren. Woe is me, for you, and for 
 myself ! Woe is me that I have carelessly contri- 
 buted to your misery, and made your hands stronger 
 to sin. Forgive me, children of wrath, whom I have 
 either begotten or nourished ! Alas, that I should 
 be your ruin ! How shall I almost endure to hear 
 you sentenced at the judgment ? O return unto 
 the Lord, from whom I have led you ! If 1 cannot 
 prevail, yet I shall mourn over you. I will labour 
 to do no more such irreparable wrong to God and 
 my brother. Rather, O Lord, cut me off in the 
 midst of my days, than leave me to propagate ini- 
 quity. Thou knowest, I have this day, through 
 thy grace, cast off all things which offend : if any 
 remain, they are hid from me. But if still there be 
 with me any thing behind, which dishonours thee, 
 or wounds ray neighbour, O take it from me ! Be 
 it what it will ; innocent, pleasing, or useful, I yield 
 it up with joy." Li this manner he thinks; and his 
 conduct is directed upon this plan. — Most convincing 
 to yourself will be the faithful answer of your con- 
 science upon this point, that you have the mind of 
 Christ in you. 
 
 Take now the whole together, and see with self- 
 application the wide opposition between the one and 
 the other, in this negative description. 
 
 The imre7iewed man, as he loves sin at the bot- 
 tom, so, when he knows that something sinful is in 
 his practice, is for making excuses ; will be telling 
 you he is sorry for it, and that it is unadvisedly, or 
 
^^5 
 
 unavoidably he falls into it. But then he is not for 
 being suspicious ; he shuts his eyes as much as pos- 
 sible; ye is not overforward to think there is any 
 thing amiss with him ; that this or that part of his 
 conduct is exceptionable : and if doubt forces upon 
 him, he hath somehow or other the art of makincp 
 himself easy. He lives in the midst of temptation ; 
 neither sees, nor fears, nor flies from the snare ; is 
 secure in the midst of danger, and adventures a^ain 
 into the mouth of the pit into which he before had 
 fallen. A strange faculty he hath of making bles- 
 sings become his curae, while he turns even food and 
 raiment into indulgence or vanity. No wonder it 
 he be as regardless of others, as he is of himself. 
 He goes on in his own way, and if others are hurt 
 by his influence, what is that to him ? let them see 
 to that. — Altogether, is not tliis a bad, however 
 common character ? 
 
 But the reformed man is the very reverse. He 
 doth not choose sin; his soul abhorring all evil ways. 
 Accordingly, he hath not left one known sin in his 
 practice: be it never so little a one; let convenience, 
 pleasure, interest, reputation, plead for it as they 
 will, he spares it not. Nay, but if he do but sus- 
 pect sin to be lurking in any part of his conduct, 
 (and apt he is to be suspicious, while sin is so entic- 
 ing, and his heart so deceitful ;) he searches it out, 
 and clears his hands of evil without delay, not suffer- 
 ing, as I may say, the smell of sin to pass upon 
 him, nor daring to act under a doubtful mind. He 
 is as fearful of temptations, as he would be of a pes- 
 tilence, and takes as much care to avoid the one, as 
 K3 
 
2^6 
 
 he would to escape the other. With a thankful 
 moderation he uses the needful things of life; treat- 
 ing them as his servants, and not as his masters. 
 He hath an heedful eye to others, as well as him- 
 self; minds his brother's wealth ; endeavours, in all 
 things, that he be not a stumbling-block to the 
 weak; and can say of himself, in general, what the 
 apostle saith in a particular instance: " I will eat no 
 flesh while the world standeth, lest I make my bro- 
 ther to offend." Thus he forbears. And is not 
 this a plain, an honest carriage ? Is not this to act 
 like one born from above ? You may despise such 
 a conduct if you please, and call it what you will ; 
 but I defy you to suppress that inward desire, this 
 moment rising within you, that you were the man. 
 
SERMON X. 
 
 THE BELIEVER A NEW CREATURE. 
 
 2 Cor. v. 17. 
 
 If any man be in Christ, he is a new creature. 
 
 The point now before us is, to produce the posi' 
 live part of the new creature's conduct. 
 
 I cannot enter upon so great a thing, without cal- 
 ling upon both myself and you to reflect, that what 
 we shall now hear, is no other than the carriage of 
 a true Christian. We shall be told, what our pro- 
 fession demands of us ; what our eternal expecta- 
 tions absolutely require at our hands ; what the uni- 
 versal eye of God considers we are doing. What 
 cause of just humiliation may this representation 
 minister to the most pious, when they are led to re- 
 member, how unlike this excellent way their path 
 may have often been ! And what cause, too, of 
 awakened fear to that man, who shall evidently find, 
 from this description, that his conduct hath never 
 been, nor to this hour is, the conduct of a Chris- 
 tian. 
 
 Seeing then nothing can be of greater import to 
 
^28 
 
 every one of us, let me entreat your attention, pa- 
 tience, and self-inquiry, while I lay before you the 
 plan and scheme upon which he who is a new crea- 
 ture acts; the rule he proposes; the way and manner 
 to which he would exactly be conformed, and to 
 which he industriously labours to come up. 
 
 He lives to the glory of God. This is his plan ; 
 this the aim he hath in all his conduct. His labour 
 is, to bring his whole course of action, every thing 
 he doth, great or little, into conformity with this 
 one rule. When we look at the particulars of his 
 conversation, as we shall by and by do, all of them 
 will be found drawing this way, and contracting more 
 and more into this short compass. It must needs 
 be so; because this is the sum of the whole, that 
 which includes all — he lives to the glory of God. 
 By which I mean, his great view is, so to frame his 
 behaviour after God's will, that by his conformity to 
 the divine pleasure, God may have his just and pe- 
 culiar honour paid him, of being such a one's true 
 Lord and sole Governor : at the same time also 
 studying that, as much as in him lies, the glory of 
 God's dominion may be extended throughout the 
 world; his Majesty be acknowledged by the general 
 submission of all his reasonable creatures ; particu- 
 larly, that the honour and interests of Christ's king- 
 dom may be promoted. Upon this plan, he often 
 reviews his conduct: — " Am I acting like the servant 
 and subject of the great God, my Master and King? 
 Am I yielding God that hearty and willing obedience, 
 which, from the dependence we have upon his power 
 and majesty, his goodness and mercy, his love, pity. 
 
229 
 
 patience, and universal presence with us, is most 
 highly his due ? Is my hfe ordered, in all things, 
 as God would have it, and in a way best suited to 
 promote his honour? Lord, direct my steps, as may 
 best serve thy own glory ! Regard not, my God 
 and King, my will and my inclination. However 
 contrary to these, order all things to me in that way 
 which may promote the glory of thy name !" Upon 
 occasion of difficulty or trial, his greatest concern is, 
 that the glory of God may not suffer damage ; his 
 first fear, lest he should bring dishonour upon his 
 heavenly king. Nothing he so frequently asks him- 
 self, as " Will this dishonour God? Will not this 
 tend to his glory ?" Nothing grieves him so heart- 
 ily as the thought of having brought dishonour upon 
 the divine government. Nothing rejoices him so 
 mucli, as that lie hath been able to establish it. 
 The appearance of dishonouring God, deters hnn 
 from any thing he was about to do. The hope or 
 prospect of glorifying God, does not fail to impel 
 him to dutv, thou^jfli it be at the hazard of his in- 
 terest, ease, and reputation. 
 
 It is a noble and generous way this; but, alas! 
 how rarely to be met with ! The herd of men is 
 of a different stamp; wrapped up in themselves; 
 selfish, and seeking their own ends. Woe is unto 
 you, if you are one of these self-seekers. There 
 is many a man to be met with, upon whom interest 
 may have this influence to make him honest; who 
 would not for shame be indecent. What would the 
 world say of him, were he known to be an adulterer, 
 a knave, or a sot, who is driven by the fear of an 
 
^30 
 
 after-reckoniria to the church and the closet? This 
 may be your case ; and you, in the mean while, void 
 of all concern about God and his glory in the world. 
 What matters all this, if you have not the spirit and 
 carriage of a servant of the most high God? If 
 the glory of your sovereign Lord and King weighs 
 not with you in your conduct; neither stops nor for- 
 wards you in the actions of your life ? If you do 
 not so much as reflect, whether God be honoured 
 or dishonoured by means of your behaviour, but go 
 on just your own way, regardless of him ? Truly, 
 in such circumstances, you are living without God, 
 free, as it were, and discharged from his service ; 
 nor can any one be at a wider distance than you, 
 from what the apostle enjoins us, " Whether ye 
 eat, or drink, or whatever ye do, do all to the glory 
 of God." View yourself and the Christian toge- 
 ther. He designs God's glory in his general con- 
 duct: to this excellent principle you live an entire 
 stranger. He is apt to examine his conduct in this 
 view : the very thought of such inquiry never pos- 
 sessed your breast. He sorely grieves, if his sins 
 and inadvertencies have anyhow disgraced the cause 
 of God : you can wound religion, and feel nothing. 
 Fear of dishonouring God causes him to deliberate 
 upon every extraordinary occasion : your fear is for 
 yourself, how you shall escape censure and reproach. 
 The opportunity of bringing honour to God and 
 Christ gives an edge to his zeal; opportunities of 
 this sort pass by you unseen, because all your zeal 
 is employed for yourself and your interests. In 
 truth, are you not a very Gallic? one who, with the 
 
231 
 
 show and ceremony of being a Christian, " careth 
 for none of these things ?" 
 
 But, from this general account, I descend to a 
 more particular exemphfication of the things, where- 
 in he who is a new creature labours to glorify God. 
 I mention as the most material, " a due regard to 
 divine worship — a faithful diligence in our calling 
 —a well ordering ourselves in the relations we bear 
 to others — a proper use, whether of our accidental 
 or natural endowments and abilities;'* which, taken 
 together, may give a sufficient view of the Christian's 
 well-doing. 
 
 1. He who is the new creature labours to glorify 
 God, in a due regard to divine worsliip. This ap- 
 pears to him the most important concern in life : he 
 looks upon nothing as being of like moment with 
 this. Accordingly, should I tell you, that from a 
 deep sense of the high honour the worship of God 
 admits him to, of the noble privilege he enjoys there- 
 in, of the obligation and necessity inviting him to 
 it, he labours to wait upon God in a truly spiritual 
 use of all his sacred appointments; that he peculiarly 
 esteems the Lord's day, and reverences those pub- 
 lic ordinances wherein the people of God meet to- 
 gether to worship ; not suiffering business to break 
 in upon the sacred hours, nor making the Sabbath 
 a season for pleasure, visit, and impertinence; nor 
 (which ought now-a-days much to be remarked) al- 
 lowing every little matter to keep him from God's 
 house; but waiting upon God, there to praise him, 
 and pray unto him, to be instructed, and admonished, 
 and enlivened, seasonably, constantly, cheerfully, 
 
£32 
 
 and devoutly: should I tell you, that he will gladly 
 lay hold of any other opportunity of public wor- 
 shipping, nor will be backward (if he conveniently 
 can) to save an hour out of his necessary business for 
 the weekly service ; or at least, judging that to be a 
 better employment, than to be doing nothing: 
 should I say, that he allots a due portion of his time 
 for private devotions, by no means suffering these 
 his spiritual, and most delightful meals, to be ne- 
 glected, or by every thing, and almost nothing, in- 
 terrupted; should I add, that he labours to have 
 God with him, when he hath left his closet; that he 
 studies to hold an intercourse with him as the hours 
 pass along, lifting up his heart to him in the little 
 intervals of business and conversation, and returning 
 unto him with pleasing meditation in more vacant 
 iiours : should I add, that he will be craving the 
 blessing of God upon his necessary food, and thank- 
 fully acknowledging the divine bounty for the re- 
 freshments he hath received: a decent act of family 
 devotion, growing unfashionable and out of practice, 
 since the good providence of God in his daily care 
 of us hath been forgotten or disowned, or since it 
 hath been the custom to be ashamed of the religion, 
 of the God of our fathers : should I say beyond 
 this, that he will betake himself to God for support 
 and direction, when extraordinary circumstances de- 
 mand it ; will be finding matter of praise and ado- 
 ration in various things of nature and providence, 
 which occasionally come in his way; that very small 
 things, unworthy of mention, will be often leading 
 him up to God : should I set all this together, as 
 
233 
 
 that regard to God which our holy worshipper en- 
 deavours to pay, it would amount to no more than 
 the various expressions of a thankful and dependent 
 mind, animated with impressions of the divine near- 
 ness and presence, and than what both the precepts 
 and examples in the Scripture enjoin upon us. 
 Where the renewed mind is, worship is not so much 
 a duty, as a privilege and a pleasure; there is a 
 panting after God, a contention to be near him, to 
 find him always, and not to lose sight of him, ever. 
 Hence the turning of the heart to him, amidst the 
 cares of life : hence the attendance upon him, in the 
 stated acts of public and retired devotion : and 
 hence, in these, a labouring after reverence, faith, 
 delight and importunity, which are the life and spi- 
 rit of worship. To worship is the good man's pri- 
 vilege. Audit is among his griefs that he can enjoy 
 it no better; that the calves of his lips are so spirit- 
 less, his affections so cold, his thoughts so apt to 
 wander. He would forget the world, while he is 
 with God ; would have his sacrifices without ble- 
 mish, full of heavenly warmth and uninterrupted 
 attention ; he would — but he attains not all his de- 
 sire : he finds himself short of that collectedness of 
 mind, that speaking as to God, that wrestling for the 
 blessing, wherewith he wishes to approach the throne 
 of grace. 
 
 But there are many in the world, who do not 
 thus walk with God; who do not either affect or ex- 
 ercise the glorious privilege of divine worship. Art 
 thou one of them, pleased with Sunday, because it 
 is thy day of visit, dress, and idleness ? Is thy de- 
 
234 
 
 meaner at church thoughtless, heedless, unconstrain- 
 ed, as if thou hadst no part to bear in the sacred 
 business there transacting between heaven and earth? 
 Doth sleep, or business, or company, keep thee 
 thence ? Or, though opportunity serves, wilt thou 
 not think of coming thither again till the Sabbath 
 leturn, as if thou hadst nothing to do with the 
 weekly worship; or were pleased, that the custom 
 and countenance of the world gave thee a discharge 
 from it ? Art thou without a conscientious regularity 
 in private worship ; either lying down and rising up 
 without prayer, or gladly yielding to every interrup- 
 tion of secret exercises ? Can you feed upon God's 
 creatures without thankfulness, and do none of the 
 things of nature and providence present him to you? 
 What is this, but to live without God in the world? 
 Not actually without him, but without regarding 
 him. 
 
 2. The living member of Christ's body labours 
 to glorify God, by faithful diligence in his calling. 
 And this may be noted, as a very considerable branch 
 of true religion. This distinguishes also the new 
 creature. The honest Christian labours in his cal- 
 ling, from a principle of conscience and submission 
 to God : knowing that God hath laid it upon man 
 as a punishment and a charge, " In the sweat of thy 
 face shalt thou eat bread," till thou "return unto the 
 ground." He who is the new creature, is distinguished 
 as such by nothing more than by his obedience and 
 endurance herein. Through conscience to God, in 
 submission to his appointment, he cheerfully under- 
 takes his labour ; and in opposition to the strivings 
 
^35 
 
 of the flesh for ease and sloth, diligently continues 
 under the hardships of it: in patience he seeks to 
 possess his soul, though disappointments thwart 
 him; and in quietness he waits upon the good pro- 
 vidence of God for the needful blessing upon the 
 work of his hands, thankfully acknowledging the 
 divine bounty in bestowing it upon him. He is 
 true and just in all his dealings; yet it is not his 
 honesty, but the eye he hath to God in his labour, 
 engaging him with submissiveness, diligence, cheer- 
 fulness, and patience to go through with it, which 
 proves him to be of a sound mind. In obedience to 
 God's will, he sets himself to his daily task. 
 *' Here," he says, " God would have me be; this 
 he would have me doing ; this is my very business, 
 by his appointment. And my business is honoura- 
 ble : it is the service of God. Delightful also is 
 this my employment ; a thousand blessings attend 
 me in it. Thus employed, my conscience is easy. 
 Thus employed, I know no anxious fears of want. 
 Thus employed, temptations which might seduce 
 me in an idle hour, are away. Thus employed, 
 I could gladly wait in the service of my God, till 
 he change my place, till he remove me to a service 
 above." — He is pleased, you see, with his place 
 and his station; and he makes as much conscience 
 to be at his work, as at proper times to be at his 
 devotions. For, truly, he doth not labour because 
 he cannot avoid it ; but because God requires him 
 to do it. 
 
 He is faithful as to God, so to man also, in his 
 calling. He renders to every one that which is due. 
 
236 
 
 If his time, ability, and labour, be hired, he care- 
 fully pays what his neighbour hath a just right to ; 
 and " not with eye-service, but in singleness of 
 heart, fearing God," is conscientious to give him 
 his time, and ability, and labour. Or, if he lives 
 in a station more enlarged, still a sincere Christian 
 acts a like part, and judges himself under as great 
 an obligation to fill up his time in a useful diligence. 
 He owes, he thinks, to the public, what a servant 
 does to a particular master; the world makes the 
 same demand upon his labour, ability, and time; 
 nor can he fail to employ them usefully, without 
 doing just such another injury to the whole body of 
 men, as the slothful servant would in his case do to 
 one particular. 
 
 He finds, too, that the various objects of com- 
 passion have a reasonable demand to make upon his 
 time and abilities; not regardless of the wants of the 
 poor, the distressed, the ignorant, of those that are 
 oppressed, and those that are sick, he feels their 
 complaints. He feels their piteous cries ; the cry 
 of the poor for relief, the cry of the distressed for 
 comfort, the cry of the ignorant for instruction, the 
 cry of the oppressed for rescue, the cry of the sick 
 for a physician. He hears their united cry, " La- 
 bour for us !" and labours, working that which is 
 good, that he may have to give unto him that need- 
 eth. 
 
 Could you say, " These are my views, and thus 
 I labour ;" I am ready to think, you would go on 
 your way rejoicing. Whereas, if you are idle, and 
 do little or nothing; either imagining you have no- 
 
^37 
 
 thing to do, or only so much as may he needful to 
 supply your own necessities ; you have forgotten, or 
 never known, that you have Clirist a Master in 
 heaven, and brethren upon earth, both demanding 
 your industrious labour. Or, if you have not con- 
 science towards God in your calling, but work mere- 
 ly for the world; be industrious, and honest too, as 
 you will, neither your industry nor honesty bespeak 
 you approved before God. Such idleness, and such 
 an industry, prove you a child of this world. See, 
 how you differ from the living member of Christ's 
 body. He labours, perhaps you are indolent; or 
 if not, he labours in submission to God's will and 
 appointment; you only seek your own interest in it. 
 I will suppose both of you industrious : but your 
 industry is selfish, it hath little respect unto others; 
 his is charitable, it means the poor and the distres- 
 sed, as well as himself. With all your honesty, 
 you look not above the world; in all his labour, he 
 looks down upon it. 
 
 3. He who is a new creature studies to glorify 
 God in the relation he bears to others. I shall not 
 be able to enter largely into the particulars. This 
 only I say, that whether he be a son, a servant, or 
 a subject ; whether a master or father; whether a 
 minister, or one intrusted with the education ot 
 children ; or whether a magistrate, in a higher or 
 lower rank ; he hath peculiar regard to that rela- 
 tion ; reckoning, that both God's honour, and the 
 acceptance of his work at the day of trial, do mainly 
 depend upon his diligence and faithfulness in it. 
 If he be a parent, his endeavour is so to take care 
 
238 
 
 of his own, that he may stand before Christ with 
 this comfortable word in his mouth, '' Behold I and 
 the children whom the Lord hath given me." If 
 he be a minister, the awful command, " Feed my 
 lambs," constrains him, above all things, to " give 
 himself wholly unto them, that his profiting may 
 appear to the saving of himself, and them that hear 
 him." If a magistrate, he doth not bear the sword 
 in vain, but with resolution and impartiality exe- 
 cutes his commission, to the punishment of evil- 
 doers, and to the praise of them that do well. If 
 he act in an inferior relation, be a son or a servant, 
 he forgets not that quiet submission which God 
 hath enjoined upon him, nor who it is that hath 
 commanded him to " honour his father and mo- 
 ther." To discharge the duties of his station, 
 whatever that station be, is his singular care. While 
 we are members one of another, he who is in Christ 
 will labour to give that supply which is required, in 
 the relation he bears ; to give, whether beauty or 
 strength, to the whole body. To act otherwise, 
 to disregard our relation, is to disavow such mem- 
 bership ; to disown union with our Head, and our 
 brethren. 
 
 Accordingly, if a man be a haughty magistrate, 
 puffed up with power, and making men " know 
 who he is," as we say; if he be a minister, lording 
 it over God's heritage, feeding himself rather than 
 the flock ; if he be one of those parents, who look 
 upon their children as their property or their bur- 
 den, and regard them no farther than as themselves 
 may be benefited or hurt by them in their worldly 
 
239 
 
 concerns ; or of those, who with wicked fondness 
 indulge them in vice; if he be an idle, unfaithful 
 servant, or a stubborn rebellious child, who, right 
 or wrong, must have his own humour and way ; if, 
 in his relation to others, he be perverse and selfish ; 
 sure I am he can bear no relation to Christ Jesus, 
 who " came not to be ministered unto, but to mi- 
 nister ;" yea, and even " to give his life a ransom 
 for many." 
 
 4. The accidental endowments which he possesses 
 are devoted to God and his glory. Holiness to the 
 Lord is written upon every one of them. This 
 Christian is a complete character. He is not like a 
 tree, which produces fruit upon a branch or two : 
 however low his growth, yet every-where he is fruit- 
 ful. What hath the Lord given to him of money, 
 learning, influence? In these, be they more or less, 
 he labours to serve God: and wishes to perfect the 
 will of his heavenly Father, in the use he makes of 
 them all. Say, thou friend of God, dost thou not 
 esteem these as his gift unto thee, as the talents 
 with which he intrusts thee? Dost thou not esteem 
 them, because they enable thee to do God and thy 
 neighbour service? and possess them with a jealous 
 distrust of thyself, lest thou shouldst be found un- 
 faithful and injurious, in any abuse of them ? How 
 vain is money in thy eye, but to supply thy needs, 
 to help forward a religious work, to succour those 
 who are in distress ! What account dost thou make 
 of thy learning, beyond the defence of truth, and the 
 instruction of the ignorant ? And hast thou influ- 
 ence to any other ends, but to add weight and coun- 
 
240 
 
 teiiance to the cause of Christianity, to heal divisions, 
 to establish peace, and spread happiness among those 
 who are about thee? The humble Christian knows 
 no value in these things beyond this; nor will allow 
 his heart to grow vain upon such distinctions, how- 
 ever much his depraved nature would needs be boast- 
 ing upon them, and however proud the world is of 
 them. 
 
 But if, without any humble acknowledgment of 
 God's hand in these matters, you are secretly puffed 
 up because of your influence, learning, and wealth, 
 and look down, out of your vain heart, with a sort of 
 scorn and contempt upon those who are poorer, 
 more ignorant, or of less notice in the world than 
 yourself: if you use those abilities of which you are 
 possessed to your own glory, and to bring about 
 your own selfish ends : if your wealth is made to 
 serve the purposes of mere idle grandeur and extra- 
 vagant excess; or, through a distrust of God's pro- 
 vidence, is unmercifully and beyond measure hoarded 
 up, to the evident injury of those, who, as they 
 need, so have they a title to your liberality : if you 
 affect a character in the world, because of your learn- 
 ing and knowledge, and while you would have us ad- 
 mire your abilities, and wonder at your parts, care 
 not that we are nothing the better for all your skill : 
 if you use your influence to keep the little world 
 under you, not to be approached, imperious and terri- 
 ble to those who depend upon you ; or priding your- 
 self in the court they pay you, if you treat them with 
 an affected lowliness and false-hearted compliment : 
 if such be the estimation and use you make of those 
 
241 
 
 accidental endowments which distinguish you, more 
 or less, from your neighbours, very plain it is, that 
 you hide your talent in the earth, that you labour 
 not your Lord shall be benefited by it ; and, there- 
 fore, that you are no servant of his. 
 
 5. In the natural gifts with which God hath en- 
 dowed him, he labours to serve God. There is evi- 
 dently in one man, more than another, a quickness 
 of parts, a soundness of judgment, and a retentive 
 memory. Consequently, some are peculiarly quali- 
 fied for usefulness, gain attention, command respect, 
 and are received with a kind of reverence, as they 
 converse with others. The less distinguished hold 
 such in admiration, pay them a peculiar deference, 
 and are easily swayed into their manner and way. 
 For it is the man of parts, rather than the man of 
 station, wealth, or learning, that directs the world. 
 Experience teaches how much weight such provi- 
 dential distinctions give, and how much those who 
 are so raised above the level of common sense may 
 prevail. A superior influence attends them, which 
 every one feels himself possessed of, or submits to, 
 as he is, or is not, of the number of those whose 
 faculties the distributive wisdom of God hath pecu- 
 liarly adorned. We may see the thing in the per- 
 verse use which is everywhere made of it. Is there 
 not in every circle of friends a certain leader, whose 
 office it is, for the most part, to give countenance to 
 vice, and to laugh out of countenance the first at- 
 tempt any of them shall make to escape from the 
 practices of iniquity? His parts have set him up in 
 this office, wherein he directs with all the insolence 
 L 19 
 
242 
 
 of pride; giving out his determinations, which they 
 dare not dispute, and must submit to, upon pain of 
 his displeasure, or of being made the immediate ob- 
 jects of ridicule. Here the power of superior talents 
 is seen and felt, however baleful the influence of 
 them be; however the man of sense becomes a factor 
 for Satan, and supports the horrid rebelhon which 
 hath been raised, and is maintained against heaven. 
 
 But when fine parts are turned the other way, 
 what grace and ornament do they add to the whole 
 man ! What amiableness do they give to his reli- 
 gious behaviour; what sweetness to his Christian 
 severity ! How is he peculiarly qualified to become 
 all things to all men, to adorn the doctrine of God 
 our Saviour in all things ! How enabled to per- 
 suade and to prevail, with honest art to insinuate the 
 love of the truth into the thoughtless, and to sup- 
 press the insolence of that mouth which is given to 
 blaspheme ! And all this ability the true-hearted 
 Christian lays out in the sacred cause of his Master. 
 Is he more distinguished? He is also seen a more 
 eminent advocate for the practice and honour of true 
 Christianity; because he is always, and in all things, 
 devoted to the service and glory of God. 
 
 Say now, are you, or (which amounts to the same 
 thing, as to the inquiry before us) do you judge 
 yourself to be one, whose parts have raised you to a 
 degree of distinction ? And do you give your 
 weight and influence to the interests of the kingdom 
 which Jesus hath erected, seeking to support, coun- 
 tenance, and enlarge it, as far as that influence and 
 weight reaches? This is the manner, without ques- 
 
243 
 
 tion, of him who loves the Lord Jesus in sincerity. 
 Or are you as much distinguished by vanity, as you 
 are by parts? Do you make no better use of your 
 eminence, than to ride in triumph, leading your 
 slavish friends after you in subjection to your plea- 
 sure? While you have so much power to direct, 
 hath God no part in your management of others? 
 Remember the case of Herod, when he sat upon his 
 throne and made an oration: " The people shouted 
 with a great shout, saying. It is the voice of a God, 
 and not of a man. And immediately the angel of 
 the Lord smote him, because he gave not God 
 the glory; and he was eaten of worms, and gave up 
 the ghost." If that man was the servant of God, 
 so are you. 
 
 To conclude, let us reflect together upon the 
 character we have been describing, that at least we 
 may approve it, and pay honour to the gospel and 
 grace of our Lord Jesus Christ, which is able to be- 
 get so respectable a creature among the fallen degen- 
 erate race of men : a person devoted to the service 
 of his Creator, whose soul is raised to nearer views 
 of the almighty, gracious, omnipresent Father of all 
 things ; who waits upon him in steady dependence, 
 and pays him continually the justest homage of hum- 
 ble adoration and grateful praise: a man, so faithful 
 to the trust put into his hand, as neither to be tired 
 out of it by fatigue, nor corrupted in it by interest: 
 one nicely attentive to discharge his relative duties; 
 a kind, yet immoveable superior; a meek and honest 
 inferior: a man above the selfish use of wealth, 
 learning, and influence ; evidently possessed of them 
 L2 
 
244 
 
 for the honour of his God, and the welfare of his 
 neighbours: possibly a man of parts too; distinguish- 
 ed, but not presuming; eminent, but not haughty; 
 with whom the ignorant may converse without fear, 
 and from whom none shall depart without pleasure 
 and advantage. 
 
 This is the believer, the true disciple of the bles- 
 sed Jesus. I may venture to challenge the world 
 for such another lovely person as this Christian. 
 And O that I could say to every one of you, " Thou 
 art the man!" But, for the most part, ye cannot, 
 ye must not, ye dare not, ye will not. Cannot, be- 
 cause of the pride and unbelief of your hearts ; must 
 not, because your father the devil will not allow you; 
 dare not, because of your interests, and of the con- 
 cern you feel about your worldly reputation; will 
 not, because of your lusts. And therefore, what, 
 for the most part are ye? Christians indeed by 
 name; but in practice, living without God, and 
 without worship; either idly, or selfishly busy; 
 haughty superiors, or stubborn inferiors; vain of 
 your distinction among your neighbours, yet bound 
 to the manners of your acquaintance; regardless of 
 God and man, as of yourself; whether among them 
 you are the voice and the leader; or whether the 
 slave, who dare not claim the right of your own 
 liberty, and your own conscience. Alas, sirs, the 
 Christian, despise him as you will, pities you. I 
 say again, he pities you ; because he sees you are, 
 and will be so miserable, when you might through 
 grace be so blessed, happy now, and blessed for 
 ever. His eyes gush out water for the honour 
 
245 
 
 of God's law ye are setting at nought ; he is hor- 
 ribly afraid for you, the objects quickly of unavoid- 
 able vengeance. But these things are hid from 
 your eyes. 
 
SERMON XI. 
 
 THE BELIEVER A NEW CREATURE. 
 
 2 Cor. v. 17. 
 
 If any man be in Christ, he is a new creature. 
 
 See, how time grows older with us ! We are 
 entered upon another year. Life stands not still, 
 no, nor the state of our souls. A large portion is 
 again taken from our earthly days ; another of our 
 *' threescore years and ten'* is ended. But our 
 souls, are they improved ? What is gone in time, 
 is it made up in grace? Have the past months 
 added so much to our fitness for eternity, as they 
 have brought us nearer to it ? It is an awful thought, 
 yet one year more is gone of that little while al- 
 lowed me to provide for eternity. In this view, 
 even an hour carries a solemn importance with it, 
 and makes us feel the necessity of withdrawing our 
 aflPections from a world we find so hastily passing 
 away from us. 
 
 Try then, my friends, what treasures for heaven 
 ye have laid up, in the year irrecoverably now gone 
 by. What profit have we made of so much invalu- 
 
247 
 
 able time? We have not been such spendthrifts, 
 as to have squandered a whole year: we are not at 
 farther distance from God, I would hope. The tears 
 of Jesus were not so shed in vain : his lamentation 
 over ruinous souls, which introduced the last year, 
 hath not been so unheard, that again with louder 
 cry, and more bitter tears, he hath need to lift up his 
 voice of love and importunity : " O that thou hadst 
 known, even thou, at least in this thy day, the things 
 which belong unto thy peace ! " But God suffers us 
 still; yet another year he spares us. And why? 
 Nay, but seriously consider, one and another, why 
 God yet upholds us in life. " It is," you cannot 
 but say, " for his name's sake, for my soul's sake, 
 for the sake of eternity, that I am still in the land of 
 the living. For this cause, another race of months 
 is risen upon me.'' My brethren, in this view ye 
 do well to congratulate one another upon the new 
 year, and to express your wishes of mutual happi- 
 ness. And I, my wish and prayer for you all is, 
 " God vouchsafe you his grace, that in this happy 
 year ye may be clothed with the garments of salva- 
 tion: that those who are asleep may be awakened, 
 the weak among you strengthened, and the strong 
 built up : that faith, and love, and zeal, and charity, 
 may come and dwell abundantly in all our hearts: 
 that, ere the year return, we may be all new crea- 
 tures." O may the angels of God so have great 
 cause of rejoicing in us! May the powerful influ- 
 ences of the Spirit carry into your hearts the address 
 I am about to make you, causing it to be fruitful in 
 you all ! 
 
248 
 
 Our last discourse finished the description pro- 
 posed; and I might then have done with the whole 
 subject, but I could not part with you so easily. I 
 know that " necessity is laid upon me ;" how I am 
 charged to " preach Christ unto you, the hope of 
 glory; warning every man, and teaching every man 
 in all wisdom, that we may present every man per- 
 fect in Christ Jesus. W hereunto I also labour, 
 striving according to his working." I determined 
 therefore to detain you, yet once more ; to enter into 
 serious expostulation with the careless sinner, and 
 the formal professor, and to address a word of advice 
 to the real Christian, who hath Christ living in him. 
 
 But how am I to rouse the careless sinner, the 
 man at ease in Zion; to open the eyes of the formal, 
 those eyes which will not see; or to direct the steps 
 of the child of God ? Ye thoughtless sinners, who 
 walk in the vanity of your minds, by what way shall 
 I be able to reach your stubborn hearts, which have 
 hitherto stood proof against the terrors of the Lord, 
 whereby I have so often, and so freely, laboured to 
 persuade you ; which as yet have been untouched by 
 all the considerations of death, eternity, and a judg- 
 ment day in all its awful solemnities, whereby you 
 have been importunately dealt with; which have 
 never felt the least constraining influence, from all the 
 rich treasures of Christ displayed before you? How 
 shall I impress upon you the sense of that danger, 
 wherein ye indeed live, being under the fearful curse 
 of the law ; which only is not executed, because the 
 most merciful God is not willing to consume you, 
 because by his patient goodness he would needs lead 
 
249 
 
 you to repentance ? Ye formal professors, the Pha- 
 risees of the day, wherewith will ye be prevailed 
 upon to renounce your most destructive self-depen- 
 dence, to stand upon the level with publicans, and to 
 sue for mercy as well as they ? How shall I demo- 
 lish that airy building, which your proud hearts have 
 raised, which seems to you so goodly and so safely 
 founded, but which the approach of death will make 
 to totter and dissolve, and the day of Christ will 
 prove to the assembled world to be vanity? — And 
 ye, new creatures, who live by the faith of the Son 
 of God; to advise you of your work, to arm you 
 with cautions, and to supply you with every needful 
 direction? I may well say, " Who is sufficient for 
 these things ?" 
 
 Know, careless sinners, we should have no boldness 
 to speak unto you, but that the Lord hath promised 
 to " make his word in our mouths fire, and this peo- 
 ple wood, and it should devour them." We should 
 have no hope in crying to you any more, (so heed- 
 less, so hardened ye are) were not the " word of 
 God powerful and sharp, piercing even to the divid- 
 ing asunder of soul and spirit, and of the joints and 
 marrow." Tired with calling to you in vain, we 
 should be ready to say with Jeremiah, " I will not 
 make mention of him, nor speak any more in his 
 name." But while " we hold our peace from good, 
 our sorrow is stirred ;" we " are full of matter; the 
 Spirit within us constraineth us;" we cannot but 
 speak ; we would needs deliver your souls ; we must 
 deliver our own. 
 
 I speak now to the thoughtless tribe ; I fear, to 
 L3 
 
250 
 
 very many of you: to you, unrenewed in the spirit 
 of your mind, and yet who have been hearing, with 
 the coldest disregard, that character set forth, which 
 shoukl he yours, but is not; no, not in the least par- 
 ticular: who may, perhaps, have been moved, at one 
 time and another, to form some hasty purposes, 
 which, through the vanity of your minds, the next 
 hour hath carried away. You know, that you live 
 in danger of instant, everlasting ruin; but you feel it 
 not: Ah, that you did! O that this word might 
 reach your heart! You acknowledge that you arc 
 no new creature. Do but consider what it is you 
 own when you say so. You own, that you are not 
 in Christ. And if not in Christ, it is no easy mat- 
 ter to describe the sinfulness, or the danger wherein 
 you live. You are not in Christ; you abide there- 
 fore daily in a state of enmity against God your 
 Maker, rebelling against his government, and usurp- 
 ing his right of disposing you as he will; a contin- 
 ual dishonourer of his great name, bidding defiance 
 to his justice, and disregarding his eternal might. 
 God's hourly bounties do not move you to gratitude, 
 nor his forbearance melt you into any relenting. 
 Mercy calls upon you, the blood of Christ cries after 
 you, in vain : for you hear not, you despise the of- 
 fers of mercy, you " tread under foot the Son of 
 God." And if such be your state, can you sedate- 
 ly approve it? Or, must you not be living in the 
 most imminent danger? Come ; say what you your- 
 self think of it. You tremble at the very thought 
 of a departing hour. You find yourself not ready. 
 You would not die as you live for the universe. 
 
251 
 
 Should your soul this night be required; own, how 
 gladly you would wish death might put an utter end 
 to your being. For how terrible are your prospects 
 beyond the grave ! Should this night be your last, 
 in what state would your soul be to-morrow? A 
 gloomy, disconsolate spirit, gnawed by self-reflection, 
 torn by impotent rage and malice against the arm of 
 God, and desperate to all hope ; pining under pre- 
 sent misery, and waiting, with terrible expectation, 
 the approach of the illustrious day of the Lord, when 
 he shall come in the glory of his Father, to execute 
 complete vengeance upon all those " who know not 
 God, and obey not the gospel of our Lord Jesus 
 Christ." Yes, impenitent sinner, you own that 
 such as you shall be met with by a rare and unheard- 
 of vengeance, when the awakening voice of the trum- 
 pet shall have raised your unwilling body from its 
 dust, when you shall be haled to an unavoidable 
 judgment, behold the frowns of the angry Judge, 
 and hear the tremendous sentence pronounced upon 
 you, incomparably more terrifying than even a world 
 dissoKing in flames, about, above, and under you. 
 You own, that such as you now are God will not 
 spare, Jesus will not pity, Satan and hell must seize 
 and swallow up for ever. " But stop," (you have 
 been ready to say a good while) " I do not own this; 
 I cannot think myself the sinful wretch you make 
 me; I shall not inherit all these terrors." Alas! 
 here lies the mischief; you know not your wicked- 
 ness, you feel not your misery. And yet I will hope 
 you are not past feeling. I am persuading myself 
 you feel even now some concern about your soul. 
 
^52 
 
 You dare not own the charge : but dare you deny 
 it ? Bring forth your pleas and excuses. I entreat 
 nothing but a fair hearing before your own conscience. 
 Conscience will speak the truth, if you will suffer it; 
 will accuse and condemn you more than I have done. 
 But, whether you will hear or forbear, I am com- 
 manded to tell you, that God will not be mocked. 
 And judge ye your ownselves, is it not a grievous 
 thing, that God should send his very Son to save 
 and bring you to glory, and you will give him no 
 heed ? Ye will not come to him, that ye might have 
 life. No; God must condescend to your terms; 
 leave you to the enjoyment of your lusts while you 
 live, and then give you heaven afterwards: on no 
 other condition will ye hearken unto him. 
 
 But, sinner, you dare not leave things as they 
 now are with you, your soul in such ruinous circum- 
 stances. I foresee you will be doing what you have 
 often ineffectually done already ; will be resolving 
 upon amendment; that you will make your peace 
 with God before you die. Under the views I have 
 now brought before you, conscience will not be easy 
 without some such quieting resolution. But, may I 
 presume to ask, when is this work of humiliation and 
 repentance to begin ? You will not be delaying it, 
 I hope, to a day at an unreasonable distance, nor 
 that so late that you shall not have leisure for so 
 great a work. Let me suppose, then, you are re- 
 solving upon it, within the return of this year: you 
 judge it may be done in these months, though you 
 cannot immediately set about it. 1 have one word 
 to object to your scheme : show me your grant from 
 
253 
 
 heaven; let me read your name in the list of those 
 who shall see the end of this year; and withal, your 
 grant of grace, to put your present resolutions in 
 practice at the time you now assign for it. You can 
 produce no such tiling; but I can bring forth much 
 to the contrary. I can show you the graves of those 
 who have died among us in the year past, as young 
 and as strong as yourself. I can read to you, if 
 need be, abundance of passages of Scripture which 
 leave you utterly unassured of a day. I can tell 
 you there is not one word in the whole Bible which 
 promises you grace hereafter, if you refuse the offer 
 now given you? You should not talk therefore of 
 setting about this great concern a year, a month, a 
 day hence: if you think of so short a delay as to- 
 morrow, I will venture to assure you beforehand, 
 that it is not to be expected to-morrow you will do 
 it, if that to-morrow rises upon you. No ; to-day, 
 this very day, if you will hear God's voice, harden 
 not your heart. " Behold now is the accepted time, 
 behold now is the day of salvation." 
 
 I know not how to leave you in such distress. 
 Yet one word more. You are not the new creature. 
 If you die as you are, immense ruin is upon you. 
 O, what will you think of it an hour after you are 
 dead ? Speak no more of delays. What can pos- 
 sibly delay you ? What mighty concern have you 
 upon your hands, which is better than heaven ; 
 which is worth all your endless sufferings in hell? 
 The ruin of your house, your family, your fortune; 
 what trifles, in respect of these ! What engages 
 you this night, which is of equal importance with 
 
254 
 
 your soul? Why may not this evening be given 
 to inquiry? I will hope it shall. And when you 
 are retired for this purpose, deal fairly; let eternal 
 things have their proper weight, and impartially 
 consider the condition you are in. Impressed as you 
 now are, one serious hour may be signally blessed. 
 Take the divine grace to your assistance; O may 
 God largely bestow it upon you ! You will be as- 
 sisted by the united supplications of all faithful souls. 
 Yes, ye true disciples, fail not this day to be instant 
 at the throne of grace for these your brethren ; 
 strive earnestly in your prayers for them, that they 
 may awake out of their sleep, that their chains may 
 be broken, and they brought to rejoice with you in 
 the glorious " liberty wherewith Christ hath made us 
 free." And you, sinners, O may you date your 
 return to God from this day! O that the entrance 
 of this year may introduce you " into the everlast- 
 ing kingdom of our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ !" 
 I turn now to the formal professor. Man, cun- 
 ning to deceive himself, and content to be mistaken 
 in the vast concern of his soul, as though his ruin 
 were his interest, hath found out a device at once to 
 escape the severe doctrines of mortification and the 
 cross, and in the midst of worldly enjoyments, to 
 keep a certain quietness of conscience, and a sort of 
 confidence of a title to life eternal. Such was the 
 case of the deluded Pharisee in the parable. He 
 had a stated course of devotion, fasting, and solemn 
 demeanour; he exercised a measure of justice and 
 distribution, which could not in any respect be 
 blamed: upon this he had formed a very high and 
 
^55 
 
 self-pleasing judgment of the safety, and even emi- 
 nency, of his state towards God : a judgment the 
 more confirmed, because of tlie licentiousness of the 
 times wherein he lived. He said no more than he 
 thought, when with delighted self-gratulation he ad- 
 dressed himself to God : " God, I thank thee, that 
 I am not as other men are, extortioners, unjust, 
 adulterers, or even as this publican. I fast twice 
 in the week, I give tithes of all that I possess." 
 Permit me to put this speech into modern language: 
 " What will the world do next? Surely times were 
 never so bad as ours ! People now are past all 
 shame. They neither mind their church nor their 
 sacraments. Sunday now is the only day for plea- 
 sure. One can hardly walk the streets for swearers 
 and drunkards, nor go into a shop without being 
 cheated. Well, thank God, I have nothing to do 
 with them, I am content to go on in the old-fashioned 
 way. W^ith all their contrivances, they are not so 
 easy as we who mind our. duty. I would not be in 
 their case for the world. God be praised, no one 
 can charge me with idleness or cheating. I am glad 
 to go to church and communion, and am better 
 pleased to give somewhat to a poor neighbour, than 
 to squander it away as some people do." — And when 
 you have said this, you have said all; and will be apt 
 to ask, what would you more? What I would 
 more is, that you were the new creature : which, 
 with all your freedom from the vices of the times, 
 and with all the good things also you have to say of 
 yourself, yet you are not. I appeal to your own 
 conscience : you have Ijeard the new creature de- 
 
256 
 
 scribed, but not yourself, in any instance. You 
 could not say, that you were got into this new gos- 
 pel-scheme; were the humble, heavenly-minded, 
 ready, hungering persons spoken of. You have not 
 found that the new apprehensions, the right choice 
 of the will, or the holy turn of the renewed affec- 
 tions, have suited you. You have had no part in 
 the purity and holiness of thought and word, which 
 belong to the new creature; nor hath your conduct 
 been described, when his keeping from evil, and do- 
 ing well, were laid out before you. You were often 
 driven to a strait; became suspicious, could not but 
 think, that either yourself, or I, must be mistaken, 
 while, instance after instance, you found your- 
 self left behind, without part or lot in the matter. 
 Let God now judge between us; let his word be 
 witness, without which I have said nothing. The 
 truth is, you have the form of godliness, and I have 
 been describing the power of it. 
 
 Mistake yourself no longer for a real disciple. 
 You are unacquainted with poverty of spirit, faith in 
 our Lord Jesus Christ, and the love of God. Com- 
 paring yourself with others, you are deceived and 
 high-minded ; hiding your sins from your eyes, you 
 do not believe to the saving of your soul ; and, 
 blinded by your outward performances, you see not 
 that you have not the love of God in you. You 
 have, I confess, many fair appearances; but will God 
 be content with these? The life you have not; 
 you have seen, you have not; but if you would per- 
 suade yourself that you are the new creature, why 
 will you not suspect a moment that it is possible you 
 
257 
 
 may be mistaken? I can do no more than entreat 
 that you will bring your state to a fair trial ; that 
 you will prove yourself, if you be in the faith. Lay 
 aside the prejudices you have conceived in your own 
 favour, take it into your account, that you are not 
 to be determined by your difference from others, but 
 by the rule of God's word; and remember how 
 Christ hath assured us, the way of life is strait and 
 narrow, and that there be few that find it. 
 
 O that you would submit to a fair inquiry ! 
 Truly, your very pitiable case constrains me to be 
 urgent with you. If you are right, it can do you 
 no harm to prove yourself, if you be in the faith. 
 If you are out of the right way, how needful is it 
 that you should know it ! Will you allow me to 
 help you : I will propose this leading question to 
 you, for a serious examination to be made upon it : 
 " Are you heartily sensible that you are a misera- 
 ble, and (in yourself) a lost sinner ?" If you have 
 never been deeply convinced of this, you have been 
 building without a foundation. I know you have 
 had expressions in your mouth, which signify such 
 a sense of your sinfulness and misery : but hath your 
 heart felt what you have spoken ? After the so- 
 lemn reading of the ten commandments, you have 
 called upon God to have mercy upon you, as a 
 breaker of them all, one after another. Not only 
 that the Lord would incline your heart to keep these 
 laws, but that also he would have mercy upon you, 
 and forgive the guilt which lies upon you by your 
 past transgressions of them, even every one of 
 them.* But now, have you lifted up this cry for 
 
258 
 
 mercy from an evident sight and sense of your guilti- 
 ness and misery, as having transgressed every one 
 of these commandments, in the spiritual, if not the 
 literal sense ? In the daily confession, and the li- 
 tany, you have been calling for mercy; especially in 
 that confession of sins at the Lord's supper, you 
 have " acknowledged and bewailed your manifold 
 sins and wickedness against God's divine Majesty," 
 declaring, that hereby you have been " provoking, 
 most justly, his wrath and indignation against you," 
 expressing yourself in the most penitential and self- 
 abased manner, as if '' the remembrance of your 
 sins were grievous unto you, and the burden of 
 them were intolerable," and crying again and again 
 for mercy. Yet, after all, you have never found 
 yourself to be, do not this day believe that you are, 
 this miserable sinner. And if you have never found 
 yourself a poor lost sinner, how can you have come 
 to Christ to be saved, or feel within you the renew- 
 ing influence of redeeming love ? Here, here the 
 work must begin, in an humble sense of your sinful- 
 ness and misery. You are indeed a stranger to this; 
 seek it, I beg you, without delay. Then, I trust, 
 you shall quickly find the difference between formal- 
 ity and Christianity, and wonder how you could 
 have been so strangely deceived. 
 
 * The Rubric before the reading the commandments in the 
 communion office, is, " The priest shall rehearse distinctly all 
 the ten commandments ; and the people still kneeling shall, after 
 every commandment, ask God mercy for their transgression 
 thereof for the time past, and grace to keep the same for the time 
 to come." 
 
259 
 
 It is time now to address a word to those of you 
 who are new creatures. I could with pleasure re- 
 sume the employment of a former discourse, and 
 display the delightful blessings ye enjoy, and are 
 heirs to. But, ye blessed of the Lord, who made 
 heaven and earth, I rather call upon you to " show 
 forth the praise of him who hath called you out of 
 darkness into his marvellous light." 
 
 See that ye live unto him who died for you, and 
 rose again. Carry the constraining influence of the 
 love which Jesus bears you, ever upon your hearts; 
 carry it with you, wherever you are, and whatever 
 you do. Approve your heart before him ; let your 
 conscience witness to you, that you are heartily his 
 servant ; that you are not " ashamed of him, and of 
 his words, in this adulterous generation ;" that you 
 are willing to suffer reproach for his name's sake; 
 that you desire only Christ should be magnified in 
 you, in life and death. Go, and let your whole 
 conduct be in correspondence with the grand design 
 of God. " To this end, Christ both died, rose, 
 and revived, that he might be Lord both of the 
 dead and living." 
 
 Especially put on charity in all your demeanour. 
 So shall all men know that ye are Christ's disciples; 
 so shall the world know that God hath sent him; 
 because they shall see him doing in you the works 
 which none other hath done, or can do; works evi- 
 dently divine: the work which the devil hath wrought 
 in you ; selfishness, pride, conceit, dissolved; and 
 you, like your heavenly Father, patient, forbearing, 
 forgiving, loving. " That they all,"- saith your 
 
260 
 
 Lord, " may be one; as thou. Father, art in me, and 
 I in thee, that they also may be one in us : that the 
 world may believe that thou hast sent me." Walk 
 in love : let all your things be done with charity to- 
 wards them that are without, and one towards ano- 
 ther, and the world shall own that God is with you 
 of a truth. By your meek, gentle, and charitable 
 carriage, you shall do your Lord greater honour, 
 and bring* more to the knowledge of the truth, and 
 the obedience of the gospel, than by a thousand rea- 
 sonings and disputings; which, if considered to the 
 bottom, will be seen to spring from pride, conceit, and 
 party-zeal. And how shall you possibly succeed, 
 while you receive weapons from Satan to fight against 
 him ? How shall his kingdom fall, when in truth 
 it is not divided? 
 
 Hold forth the word of life. Ye are the light of 
 the world; ye only, all the rest lie in profound dark- 
 ness, bewildered by the mists of lust, pleasure, in- 
 terest, pompous or learned pride. Never was a gen- 
 eration so refined, and so ignorant; so wise, and so 
 faithless; so opposite, every way, to the true word 
 of life, as this wherein you live. O let a generous 
 compassion rest upon your soul ! Rarely you shall 
 meet a man who doth not need it. O let a sacred 
 zeal for your despised Master reign within you ! In 
 the united force of zeal and pity, " let your light 
 shine before men," everywhere, and in all things, 
 " that they may see your good works." 
 
 Alas, sirs, remember, that the " gospel is hid 
 from them whom the god of this world hath blinded;" 
 they cannot see it. It lies upon you to show it to 
 
- 261 
 
 them, in conversation and word to hold it forth to 
 them. Ye are the salt of t,he earth, and if not by 
 you, wherewith shall it be seasoned ? 
 
 " I beseech you, brethren, by the mercies of 
 God, have no fellowship with the unfruitful works 
 of darkness." Not to have any fellowship with them, 
 will demand all your best caution and courage, while 
 you live among and must have so many things to do 
 with the workers of them. But, " by the mercies 
 of God I beseech you, be not partakers with them 
 in their sins;" encourage not the least work of dark- 
 ness. By accompanying in them, by any thing 
 which may be interpreted a looking towards them, 
 by the least compliance, by passing them lightly by, 
 by the slightest approbation in word, or look, or 
 smile, or nod, have no fellowship with them. Here- 
 in you will need a watchful eye, and a resolved 
 heart ; and the grace of God hath added both unto 
 you. Yet reflect often how the smallest encourage- 
 ment from you must strengthen the hands of wick- 
 edness, and wound the cause of religion, more than 
 even the grossest vices of a thousand sinners. 
 
 But, I beseech you by the same mercies, rather 
 reprove them. Let the light of your contrary ex- 
 ample and conduct shine upon them, that they may 
 appear to be, what they are, works of darkness, 
 works which will not bear the light. Yea, and if the 
 workers of them be bold enough to do them before 
 you, use a like boldness in reproving them in plain 
 words. Why should you not? The workers of 
 them ought to be made ashamed of them. And if 
 the children of darkness be hardy, why should not 
 
262 
 
 the children of light be more so? Sure I am, you 
 serve a better Master, and maintain a better cause. 
 Yet, let all be done in the spirit of meekness and 
 love. While ye reprove the works, have compas- 
 sion on the workers; and then, fear not, the Lord 
 is on your side. 
 
 Finally, " We beseech you, brethren, and ex- 
 hort you by the Lord Jesus Christ, that as ye have 
 received how ye ought to walk and to please God, so 
 ye would abound more and more, bringing forth 
 fruits with patience, and having in all things your 
 conversation as becometh the gospel of Christ; look- 
 ing for that blessed hope, and the glorious appearing 
 of the great God and our Saviour Jesus Christ, and 
 praying always with all prayer and supplication in 
 the Spirit, and watching thereunto with all perse- 
 verance.'' 
 
 " Now unto him that is able to keep you from 
 falling, and to present you faultless before the pre- 
 sence of his glory with exceeding joy; to the only- 
 wise God our Saviour, be glory and majesty, domi- 
 nion and power, both now and ever. Amen." 
 
 FINIS. 
 
 Printed by W. Collins & Co. 
 Glasgow, 
 
Princeton Theoloqical Seminary Libraries 
 
 1 1012 
 
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