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THE PRINCETON PULPIT. 
 
THE 
 
 PRINCETON PULPIT 
 
 EDITED BY 
 
 JOHN T. DUFFIELD, 
 
 ADJUNCT PROFESSOE OF MATUESIATICS, IN PKISCETON COLLEGE. 
 
 NEW YORK: 
 CHARLES SCRIBNER, 145 NASSAU STREET. 
 
 1852. 
 
EntcTcil according to Act of Congi-css, in the yeiir 1>.J2, by 
 OIIAELES SCEIBNEE, 
 111 the i:lerk"s Office of the District Court of the Uuited States for the Suuthcrn District 
 of New Torli. 
 
 Printed by 
 
 c. w. bi:nedict. 
 
 201 William Street. 
 

 PREFACE. 
 
 The Sermons, which are here given to the public, were 
 not originally prepared for this purpose. They were, 
 generally, delivered in Princeton, by the different contri- 
 butors, in the ordinary course of their ministerial labours. 
 The immediate design of their present publication is to 
 aid the Second Presbyterian Church of Princeton. AVith 
 this object in view, the contributions were kindly fur- 
 nished, at the request of tlie Compiler. He was induced 
 to undertake this work, by assurances from various 
 quarters, that such a volume, would not only be grate- 
 fully received by the numerous graduates of the College 
 and Seminary of Princeton, as an interesting memento 
 of their Instructors, but would be regarded by many other 
 friends of those Institutions, as an acceptable contribution 
 to our religious literature. Under these circumstances, 
 the volume is submitted to the public, with prayerful 
 trust, that by God's blessing it may be instrumental 
 in promoting His glory. 
 
 The sermon of Dr. Miller was selected from his pub- 
 lished discourses, he having requested that none of his 
 
 I 
 
VI P E E F A C E . 
 
 / 
 
 manuscript sermons should be publislied, after his death. 
 It was originally delivered before the Dorcas Society of 
 the City of !N"ew York. 
 
 The sermon of Dr. Archibald Alexander is probably 
 the last complete discourse he ever prepared, and was 
 delivered by him in the City of Isqw York, at the instal- 
 lation of his son, the Rev. James W. Alexander, D.D. 
 
 The friends of Prof. Dod have selected from liis manu- 
 scripts a sermon, which from its subject, was one of his 
 favourite discourses. Its devout and elevating sentiments, 
 in regard to " those things that are not seen," will doubt- 
 less be read with peculiar interest, now that he who 
 uttered them, is no longer looking at those things, " as 
 through a glass, darkly," but " face to face" beholds 
 them, wdth the open vision of one of "the spirits of the 
 just made perfect." 
 
 J. T. D. 
 
 Pkinceton, :N". J., 3fmj, 1852. 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 Page 
 
 The Appropriate Duty and Ornament of the 
 
 Female ^^x, 9 
 
 By Samuel Miller, D.D. 
 
 KiGHTLY DlA'IDi:^«r THE "WoRD OF TrUTH, . . 29 
 
 V- 
 
 By Archibald Alexander, D.D, 
 
 A Baccalaojeate Discourse, • . . .48 
 
 By James Carnahan, D.D. 
 
 Faith in Chrj«1^, the Source of Spiritual Life, . 74: 
 
 By Charles Uodge, D.D. 
 
 Filial Piet^ 95 
 
 V 
 By John Maclean, D.D. 
 
 Sorrow BETTERy-^riiAN Laughter, . • 1^7 
 
 V 
 
 By James W. Alexander, D.D. 
 
YlU CONTENTS. 
 
 Tnge 
 LfKJKING AT TnyTlIING^i ■\V1IIC1I AKE NOT SkKN, . 138 
 
 By Albert U. Dod, D.D. 
 
 TjIK CllKISTIAK PlIII.OSorHY OF Eevoli'tion, . . 101 
 
 By -M. B. Hope, D.P. 
 
 Till-; Power and PKurKTUiTY of Law, . . . ISO 
 
 By John Forsyth, D.I). 
 
 Til K Work OF ^^T), 207 
 
 By J. Addison Alexander, D.D. 
 
 Gor>, THE Guime^oF His Blind Peoplf, 
 
 Bv Wni. E. Sc'lit-iick. 
 
 '•ri:> 
 
 CiiiiLST, THE Manifestation of God, . . . 2-10 
 
 By Wm. Ileury "tfreen. 
 
 PkLIGIOUS pETmfiMENT, . . . . . .20, 
 
 By Georgo 51. Giger. 
 
 Search the SoiirPTuiiKS, 203 
 
 By Tbos. W. Cnttoll. 
 
 The Position of the TIfman Race in the Divine 
 
 EcoNoMi%/f 302 
 
 Bv John T. Duffield. 
 
THE APPROrRIATE DUTY AND ORNAMENT OF THE 
 FEMALE SEX. 
 
 BT 
 
 THE REV. SAMUEL MILLER, D. D., 
 
 PKOFKSSOK OF ECOLKSIASTICAL HISTORY AND OH0KCH GOVERNMENT. 
 
 Now there was at Joppa a certain disciple named Tabitha, which, by 
 interpretation, is called Dorcas ; this woman was full of good works and 
 alms-deeds which she did. — Acts ix. 
 
 Sacred history differs from profane, in a variety 
 of important particulars. The latter is chiefly em- 
 ployed in exhibiting the struggles of ambition, the 
 triumphs of power, and the glare of blood-stained 
 honors : the former dwells more on the duties of 
 private life, and especially on the meek, humble, 
 and retiring graces of the Christian. The one pre- 
 sents a splendid, but not always faithful picture, 
 which is calculated to indulge curiosity, and to 
 flatter pride ; the other unfolds the heart, displays 
 its character in all the simplicity and correctness oi" 
 truth, and sets before us examples proper for the 
 imitation of every age, and sex, and condition of 
 mankind. 
 
 The portion of sacred history before us com- 
 
10 THE PRIlSrCETON PULPIT. 
 
 prises, within a very small compass, mucli matter 
 for reflection. It exhibits a character, and a train 
 of circumstances, from which we may at all times 
 learn a variety of important lessons, but which are 
 peculiarly applicable to our present purpose. 
 
 " There was residings at Joppa," a sea-port town 
 on the Mediterranean, about thirty-four miles north- 
 west of Jerusalem, " a certain woman named Tabi- 
 tha, which, by interpretation, is called Dorcas." The 
 former of these names is a Syriac word, signifying 
 a roe or fmvn / the latter, a Greek word, of the 
 same import. This woman was " a disciple." That 
 is, she had embraced the gospel, and lived under 
 its power. Her religion did not consist merely in 
 '' calling Christ, Lord, Lord." She testified the sin- 
 cerity of her faith by a holy life and conversation. 
 She " was full of good works, and of alms-deeds 
 which she did." 
 
 But the most sincere and exemplary piety is no 
 defence against the attacks of disease and death. 
 All die, because all have sinned. "It came to pass, 
 therefore, in those days" — that is, when the Apostle 
 Peter was preaching in Jjydda^ a neighboring town, 
 that Z^orm* was taken " sick and died." Immediately 
 after her death, the pious widows, and other disci- 
 ples, who had attended her during her illness, hav- 
 ing taken a decent and respectful care of the 
 corpse, dis];)atched messengers to the apostle, en- 
 treating him to come to them without delay. 
 Whether they anticipated his raising their de- 
 parted friend from the dead, or only expected him 
 to attend the funeral, and to comfort them under 
 
SAMUEL MILLER, D.D. 11 
 
 their bereavement, we have scarcely ground even 
 for conjecture. At any rate, in sending for the 
 Apostle, they manifested at once their attachment 
 and respect for the deceased, and a taste for his 
 evangelical instruction and conversation. 
 
 I know scarcely anything in this world, more 
 desirable, or more gratifying than the friendship, 
 the consolations, and the kind offices of the pious ; 
 and especially in the day of trial, and at the hour 
 of death. At seasons of this kind, the gay and the 
 worldly are apt to fly from us. But even if they 
 give us their presence, what will it avail ? Alas ! 
 " miserable comforters are they all V What can they 
 tell us of that gospel which hath poured eternal 
 day on " the night of the grave," or of that " blood 
 which cleanseth from all sin ?" What can they tell 
 us of the " exceeding great and precious promises — 
 of " everlasting consolation," and of " a good hope 
 through grace V When my last hour is come, let 
 pious friends surround my bed! Let those who 
 fear Gocl, and have an interest at the throne of 
 grace, direct my trembling aspirations to Jesus, the 
 friend of sinners ! Let pious hands close my eyes ! 
 And let " devout men carry me, like Stephen, to 
 my burial !" 
 
 The holy Apostle on receiving the summons, en- 
 tered immediately into the spirit of that j)ious 
 friendship which had called him, and followed the 
 messengers without delay. When he came to the 
 dwelling which had been lately adorned with the 
 piety and the active beneficence of Dorcas, he 
 found her lifeless remains lying in an " upper cham- 
 
12 THE PRINCETON PULPIT. 
 
 ber," and surrounded with mourning widows. On 
 his entering the apartment, they gathered about 
 him, "weeping, and shewing the coats and gar- 
 ments which Dorcas had made while she was with 
 them." It is probable, from the tenor of the narra- 
 tive, that these pious widows had been themselves 
 the objects of her alms-deeds j and that the coats and 
 other garments with which they were then clothed, 
 had been made by the hands, and bestowed by the 
 bounty of their deceased benefactor. These they 
 showed to the apostle, as testimonies of her benevo- 
 lent character, and as causes for lamenting her 
 departure. Simple, but touching and eloquent 
 eulogium ! O how much more precious to the in- 
 genuous mind, to be embalmed in the memory of 
 the virtuous and the wise, than to be commemo- 
 rated by the sculptured marble, or the massy 
 pyramid ! How much better than all the blaze of 
 heraldry, or " pomp of j)ower," to have it said con- 
 cerning us, when we are gone — "There lies one 
 who fed me when I was hungry ; who clothed me 
 when I was naked ; who enlightened my mind 
 with heavenly knowledge, and pointed to me the 
 path of life eternal." 
 
 The Apostle, having witnessed these tears, and 
 contemplated these memorials, requested the mourn- 
 ers to withdraw, that he might avoid all appear- 
 ance of ostentation in the miracle which he was 
 about to perform ; and that he might with more 
 perfect freedom pour out his soul in prayer. 
 When they had retired, "he kneeled down and 
 prayed ; and, turning him to the body, said, Tabi- 
 
SAMUEL M I L L E K, D . D . 13 
 
 tlia, arise. Aud she opened lier eyes ; and when 
 slie saw Peter she sat up. And lie gave her his 
 hand, and lifted her up ; and when he had called 
 the saints and widows, he presented her alive." 
 
 Who can describe the surprise and joy of the 
 attendants at seeing their amiable friend restored 
 to life and usefulness? Above all, who can de- 
 scribe the mingled emotions of regret and pleasure, 
 which must have filled the mind of Dorcas^ to find 
 herself brought back to a world which she had 
 supposed herself to have for ever quitted; and 
 again united to companions whom she had expected 
 never to see more until they should join her in the 
 paradise of God? — I dare not attempt the task. 
 Leaving, therefore, this topic of meditation, which, 
 however deeply interesting, cannot subserve any 
 important practical purpose, — 
 
 I hasten to employ the examj)le of this excellent 
 woman as the basis of some very brief and general 
 remarks on the a]^x^ropriate duty and ornament of 
 tlie Female Sex. 
 
 And here I shall not stop to inquire, w^hether 
 the native character of the female mind is, in all 
 respects, precisely the same with that of the other 
 sex. Whatever opinion may be formed on this 
 subject, I take for granted, we shall all agree, that 
 Women ought not to be considered as destined to 
 the same employments with Men ; and, of course, 
 that there is a species of education, and a s])here of 
 action, which more particularly belong to them. 
 There was a time, indeed, w^hen a very difterent 
 doctrine had many advocates, and appeared to be 
 
14 THE PEINCETON PULPIT. 
 
 growing poj^ular : — viz. tliat in conducting educa- 
 tion, and in selecting employments, all distinctions 
 of sex ought to be forgotten and confounded ; and 
 that females are as well fitted to fill the academic 
 Chair, to shine in the Senate, to adorn the Bench 
 of justice, and even to lead the train of War, as 
 the more hardy sex. This delusion, however, is 
 now generally discai'ded. It begins to be perceived, 
 that the God of nature has raised everlasting bar- 
 riers against such wild and mischievous speculations ; 
 and that to urge them, is to renounce reason, to con- 
 tradict ex])erience, to trample on the divine autho- 
 rity, and to degrade the usefulness, the honor, and 
 the real enjoyments of the female sex. 
 
 But an error of an opposite kind has gained a 
 lamentable currency in the world. This is, that 
 the station of females is so humble, and their sphere 
 of duty so extremely limited, that they neither can^ 
 nor ought to as23ii'e to extensive usefulness. This 
 is the mistake of indolence, or of false humility ; 
 and is as plainly contradicted by reason, by scrip- 
 ture, and by experience, as the extreme before 
 mentioned. While females are shut out by the ex- 
 press authority of God from some offices, and by 
 the common sense of mankind from others ; there 
 is yet open to them an immense field for the most 
 dignified activity, in which they may glorify God, 
 render essential service to society, and gain ever- 
 lasting honor to themselves. 
 
 We often have occasion, from the sacred desk, 
 to exhibit in contrast, the representations of scrip- 
 ture, and the sentiments of a depraved world. This 
 
SAMUEL MILLEll, D.I). 15 
 
 contrast seldom appears in a stronger ligLt than it 
 does on the subject of AA'hich we are now speaking. 
 In the codes of modern infidelity and licentiousness, 
 as well as among uncivilized nations, woman is ex- 
 hibited as the mere servile instrument of conveni- 
 ence or pleasure. In the volume of Revelation she 
 is represented as the equal, the companion, and the 
 help-meet of man. In the language of worldly 
 taste, a fine woman is one who is distinguished for 
 her personal charms, and polite accomplishments. 
 In the language of Scripture, she is the enlightened 
 and virtuous mistress of a family, and the useful 
 member of society. The woman who is formed on 
 the princij)les of the world, finds no enjoyment but 
 in the circles of affluence, ga^^ety, and fashion. The 
 woman who is formed on the principles of the 
 Bible, " goeth about doing good : she visiteth the 
 fatherless and the widows in their affliction: she 
 stretcheth forth her hands to the poor, yea, she 
 reacheth forth her hands to the needy." The one 
 dresses with elegance, and shines in the dance : the 
 other "opens her mouth with wisdom; in her 
 tongue is the law of kindness ;" and her most valued 
 adorning is not " gold, or pearls, or costly array ; 
 but good works, and the ornament of a meek and 
 quiet spii'it." The hours of the one are divided 
 between routs, and assemblies, and \asiting, and 
 theatres, and cards : the other " looketh well to the 
 ways of her household, and eateth not the bread of 
 idleness." " The business of the one is pleasure ; 
 the pleasure of the other is business. The one is 
 admired abroad : the other is beloved and honored 
 
16 THE PRINCETON PULPIT. 
 
 at home." "Her children rise up and call her 
 blessed; her husband also, and he praiseth her. 
 Favor is deceitful, and beauty is vain ; but a woman 
 that feareth the Lord, she shall be praised." 
 
 From these representations of sacred writ, and 
 from many others of similar import, it is manifest, 
 that the ornament and the duty of the female sex, 
 are as appropriate as they are important : and that 
 they pertain especially to the relations which they 
 bear as wives, — as mothers, — as domestic compa- 
 nions, and — as members of society. On each of 
 these relations, an extensive field of inquiry opens 
 to our view ; but it is only possible to take a very 
 rapid glance at each, in the order in which they 
 have been mentioned. 
 
 I. How interesting and important are the duties 
 devolved on females as wives ! On their temper 
 and deportment, more than those of any other indi- 
 ^dduals, it depends, Tv^hether their husbands be hap- 
 py or miserable ; whether the households over 
 which they preside be well ordered and regular, or 
 neglected and wretched ; whether the pro23erty of 
 their partners be wisely and economically applied, 
 or carelessly and ignobly squandered ; in a word, 
 whether peace, affection, order, and plenty, reign in 
 their dwellings, or waste, confusion, discord, and 
 alienation disgrace them. Females have been often 
 honoured with the title of angels. If it be ever 
 proper to apply such an appellation to a daughter 
 of a fallen race, there is surely no mortal to whom 
 it so properly applies, as a prudent, virtuous, and 
 amiable wife, the counsellor and friend of her hus- 
 
SAMUEL MILLER, D.D. 17 
 
 band ; who makes it her daily study to lighten his 
 cares, to soothe his sorrows, and to augment his 
 joys ; who, like a guardian angel, watches over his 
 interests, warns him against dangers, comforts him 
 under trials ; and by her pious, assiduous, and at- 
 tractive deportment, constantly endeavours to ren- 
 der him more virtuous, more useful, more honored, 
 and more happy. The blessings which such a 
 woman is capable of conferring on her partner, and 
 through him, on society, are more numerous and 
 diversified than a volume would be sufficient to 
 display. In how many instances have we known 
 wives of this character become the means of 
 winning their unbelieving husbands to the obedi- 
 ence of the faith ! When this is the case, who can 
 estimate the greatness of the blessing ? Like the 
 light of day, it pours its benign influence upon each 
 member of the favored domestic circle ; and ever 
 permanent in its effects, reaches through eternal 
 ages. 
 
 II. No less numerous and weighty are the duties 
 devolved on females as mothers. Children, during 
 the first years of their lives, are necessarily com- 
 mitted almost entirely to the care of mothers. And 
 the impressions which are then made on their ten- 
 der minds, generally decide their character and 
 destiny, not only for this life, but also for that 
 which is to come. In that soft and plastic season, 
 when the temper, the principles, and the habits are 
 formed ; when the heart is deeply impressed ; when 
 the conscience is tender ; when the whole character 
 is ductile ; when almost every thing but the rege- 
 
18 TUE PRINCETON PULPIT. 
 
 neration of tlie heart may be said to be witliiii tlie 
 power of a parent to bestow ; and wlien even tlie 
 attainment of this greatest of all gifts has a closer 
 connexion with parental faithfulness than is gene- 
 rally imagined — this is, emphatically, the period of 
 the maternal empire. Her's is the delightful, the 
 all-important task, to watch over the infant years 
 of her offspring ; to guard them from the thousand 
 dangers to which they are exposed ; to form a 
 sound mind in a sound body ; to whisper in their 
 listening ears, the sentiments of virtue and piety ; 
 and to prepare them for living to God, to their 
 country, and to themselves. 
 
 On this ground, I have no scruple in avowing 
 my conviction, that, in the whole business of edu- 
 cation, tlie oiiotJier is the more imrportant ixirent. It 
 may, perhaps, without extravagance, be said, that 
 to the female sex pre-eminently belongs the might}^ 
 task, so far as it depends on human agency, of 
 forming the heads and hearts of the great mass of 
 mankind. To them it belongs to render their 
 families the nurseries either of heaven or of hell. 
 Their enlightened fidelity or their criminal negli- 
 gence, will, under God, decide the character of 
 those future citizens, on whose virtues the whole 
 interests of the commonwealth will depend ; of 
 those legislators on whose wisdom the character of 
 our laws must rest; of those magistrates, with 
 whose learning and correct principles the whole 
 fabric of public justice must stand or fall ; and of 
 those ministers of the gospel, on whose orthodox^'' 
 and piety the salvation of millions, speaking after 
 
SAMUEL 5IILLEE, D.D. 10 
 
 tlie manner of men, may be suspended. It is tluis 
 that maternal faitlifulness or negligence goes to the 
 root of social happiness. It is thus that mothers 
 may be the means of transmitting blessings or 
 calamities, of incalculable extent, to distant gene- 
 rations. 
 
 III. Every domestic Telation which females sus- 
 tain, may be considered as opening to them an ap- 
 propriate and important sphere of duty. Great 
 and permanent usefulness in domestic life is by no 
 means confined to wives and mothers. The female 
 who sustains neither of these honorable and inter- 
 esting relations, may yet be eminently useful. Ho^^ 
 much may every dauglder^ by uniformly dutiful 
 and affectionate conduct towards her parents, pro- 
 mote the happiness of the whole household to 
 which she belongs ; and by her example contribute 
 to the improvement of all around her! How 
 much solid good may every sister daily accomplish, 
 l)y diligently employing her talents, in assisting to 
 educate her younger brothers and sisters, in pro- 
 moting the regularity, order, and comfort of the 
 family of which she is a member, and in recom- 
 mending at once, by her whole deportment, the 
 wisdom of economy, the sweetness of benevolence, 
 and the purity of holiness ! Nay, how much may 
 every female servant contribute to the advantage 
 of the family in which her lot is cast ! It was a 
 little maid in the house of Naaman^ the Syrian, 
 that directed her master to the prophet of the 
 Lord, by whom his lej^rosy was healed, and by 
 whose ministry he became a convert to the true 
 
20 THE PRINCETON PULPIT. 
 
 religion. And were the liistory of many families 
 laid open to our view, how often should we see the 
 pious language and holy example of some inferior 
 domestic made a blessing to more than one of those 
 whom she served ! 
 
 Every female, then, who, in whatever capacity, 
 makes a part of any domestic establishment, whe- 
 ther she preside as its head, or serve as its humblest 
 menial, has it in her power to do good, to an ex- 
 tent which it is the prerogative of Omniscience 
 alone to estimate. She has means and opportuni- 
 ties of usefulness peculiar to her sex and station — 
 Means and opportunities which, if faithfully im- 
 proved, cannot fail, according to the Divine pro- 
 mise, to produce a rich result of blessing. The 
 tongue of eloquence, indeed, may never pronounce 
 her eulogium, nor the pen of history record her 
 deeds. But in the " heraldry of heaven," in which 
 to be good is better than to be great^ and to be 
 nseful is better than to sliine^ she may hold a place 
 more illustrious and honorable than many of those 
 who have wielded the sceptre of empire, and filled 
 the world with the thunder of their fame. 
 
 IV. Females have set before them a wide and 
 appropriate field of useful activity, as members of 
 society. Let no woman imagine that she has 
 nothing to do beyond the sphere of her own house- 
 hold. In every walk, and in every hour of life, 
 she may be contributing something to the purity, 
 the order, and the happiness of the community to 
 which she belongs. The influence of the female 
 character in forming public taste, and public man- 
 
SAMUEL MIL LEE, D.D. 21 
 
 ners, is incalculable. It has been felt and acknow- 
 ledged in all ages. Of this influence, every woman, 
 whatever be her talents or her station, possesses a 
 share ; and by her whole deportment is conferring 
 either a benefit or an injury on society. It is in 
 the power of women, by constantly exhibiting the 
 dignity of virtue, and the attractions of piety, to 
 repress the impertinence, to polish the roughness, 
 and to frown out of sight, and, in many instances, 
 out of existence, the vices of the other sex. It is 
 in the power of women, by example and by pre- 
 cept, to regulate at pleasure the decorums of dress, 
 the purity of manners, and all the habits, of the 
 younger and more inexperienced part of their own 
 sex. In short, it is in the power of women, to an 
 extent of which few of them seem to be aware, to 
 discountenance and banish those pernicious cus- 
 toms which, from time to time, display their hydra 
 forms in society, and to exercise a most efficient 
 guardianship over public taste and virtue. No 
 false sentiments can have much prevalence against 
 which tliey resolutely set their faces. No corrupt 
 practices can be general or popular which they are 
 willing to expel from society. 
 
 " Human happiness," says a modern writer, " is 
 on the whole, much less affected by great, but un- 
 frequent events, whether of prosperity or of ad- 
 versity, of benefit or of injury, than by small but 
 perpetually recurring incidents of good or evil. 
 The manner in which the influence of the female 
 character is felt, belongs to the latter description. 
 It is not like the periodical inundation of a river. 
 
22 THE PEIjS'CETON PULPIT. 
 
 which, once in a year, overspreads a desert with 
 transient plenty. It is like the dew of heaven, 
 which descends at all seasons, returns after short 
 intervals, and permanently nourishes every herb of 
 the field."'^' 
 
 To the female sex also properly appertains a 
 large portion of those offices of cliarity^ to which 
 we are constantly called. To feed the hungry, and 
 clothe the naked ; to " weep with them that weej) ;" 
 to soften the bed of sickness, and to wipe aAvay 
 the tears of sorrow, are duties incumbent upon us 
 all. But they belong more particularly to the ten- 
 der sex. They are best acquainted with domestic 
 wants. They are the best judges of domestic cha- 
 racter. They have more sympathy, more tender- 
 ness, more leisure, and more patience than men ; 
 and, on a variety of accounts, are more capable of 
 performing these duties with ease to themselves , 
 and with advantage to the objects of their charity. 
 
 Here is surely enough to excite all the ambition, 
 and to employ all the talents of a reasonable mind. 
 What though females cannot stand in the sacred 
 Desk, nor sit on the Bench of justice ? What 
 though they cannot be employed in framing laws, 
 nor in conducting diplomatic missions, nor in or- 
 ganizing or governing nations ? They can contri- 
 bute more by their virtues and their influence to 
 bind society together, than all the laws that legis- 
 lators ever formed. They are called to duties 
 which are not only worthy of the most exalted 
 powers ; but which have this pre-eminent advan- 
 
 * Gisborne. Duties of the Female Sex, p. 8. 
 
SAMUEL MILLER, D.D. 23 
 
 tage, that, A\liile tliey are immediately calculated 
 to meliorate the hearts of those who perform them, 
 they also tend to refine and elevate the human 
 character in general, and to render earth more like 
 the paradise of God. 
 
 1. Let me apply this subject, by inferring from 
 what has been said, the wispeakaUe imporUmce of 
 female education. If the female character be so 
 important, then the formation of that character 
 must be equally so. If education in general lie at 
 the foundation of individual, domestic, and national 
 happiness, this is especially the case with female 
 education. It is a concern in which the highest 
 interests of mankind are at stake. It involves the 
 vital principle of social welfare. And according as 
 it is attended to or neglected ; according as it is 
 wisely or erroneously pursued, will public and pri- 
 vate happiness be nourished or poisoned at its root. 
 Upon the education of woman it depends, under 
 God, whether she shall be the most useful, or the 
 most mischievous of mortals ; whether she shall be 
 the most invaluable blessing of human society, or 
 "the most dreadful scourge of Almighty visita- 
 tion."' — Solemn thought ! How deeply ought the 
 subject to engage the attention, to interest the 
 heart, to excite the j^rayers, and to animate the 
 diligence of every parent ! 
 
 We are, perhaps, wiser than our fathers, in hav- 
 ing learned to appreciate more justly than they 
 did, the talents of women, and in devising plans of 
 education better fitted to develope and improve 
 these talents. But I am afraid we fall below our 
 
24 THE PEINCETON PULPIT. 
 
 venerable predecessors, in cultivating the moral 
 and religious character of females, and in fitting 
 tliem for some of the more useful and important 
 duties of their sex. 'V\Tien we learn generally to 
 correct this error ; when we teach our daughters 
 properly to estimate their true dignity, and dili- 
 gently to pursue their real happiness ; when we 
 persuade them to reflect, that education consists, 
 not in the acquisition of dazzling and meretricious 
 arts ; but in preparing themselves to be respectable 
 and useful as wives, mothers, members of society, 
 and Christians — then, and not till then, may we hope 
 to see the moral character of society raised, and the 
 real importance of the female sex more justly esti- 
 mated, and more duly honored. 
 
 2. Allow me to apply this subject by recommend- 
 mg the cliaracter wMcli has been drawn to the studi- 
 ous imitation of the female pm^t of my audience^ and 
 especially of the younger class. Contracted in its 
 extent, and feeble in its outline, as is the sketch 
 which I have attempted to exhibit, believe me, it is 
 worthy of your attention. It is a character which 
 involves the highest honor, and which embraces its 
 own reward. In recommending it to your imita- 
 tion, therefore, I am pleading the cause of your 
 own elevation and happiness, as well as the cause 
 of God, and the cause of mankind. 
 
 My young female friends ! it ought to be your 
 ambition to possess and to evince a sound under- 
 standing, and a respectable portion of literary know- 
 ledge. All that has been said, serves to show that 
 
S A 31 U E L M I L L E R , D . D . 25 
 
 the cultivation of female intellect is as important, 
 and as necessary, as the intellectual culture of the 
 other sex. But it ought to be more esjyecialhj your 
 ambition, to cultivate your he'arts. The Heart — I 
 repeat it — the Hearty sanctified by religion, warm- 
 ed and softened by benevolence, and taught to 
 throb in affectionate response to every sigh of suf- 
 fering, and every claim of humanity, — this is the 
 grand ornament of Woman — this is the strong- 
 hold of AVoman. To be so many Tahithas^ adorn- 
 ing the doctrine of God, your Sa\'iour, and diffus- 
 ing happiness among all around you, would be in- 
 finitely more to your honor as well as your com- 
 fort, even in the present life, than to stand in tlic 
 list of those masculine females, who, while they gain 
 a proud civil pre-eminence, really disgrace their 
 sex. 
 
 When, therefore, I see a young female devoting 
 her supreme attention to external accomplishments ; 
 absorbed in the love of ornament, and of admiration : 
 habitually venturing, in obedience to fashion, to the 
 " very verge of decorum ;" never satisfied but when 
 either preparing for the splendor of a public ap- 
 pearance, or discussing the merits of a past exhibi- 
 tion — I say within myself — The hand of some in- 
 fatuated parent, or of some incompetent or unfaith- 
 ful guardian, is here. What perversion of talents ! 
 What misapplication of exertions ! What waste of 
 time ! What pains to treasure up sorrow and tears 
 for after life ! How much more attractive would 
 be that fiiir form, were it employed in works of 
 charity, and more frequently seen bending over the 
 3 
 
26 THE PEINCETOJSr PULPIT. 
 
 coucli of poverty and sufFering ! How mucli more 
 lieaiitiful would be tliat lovely face, were it habi- 
 tually beaming witli benevolence and piety ! And 
 how unspeakably more liaj)py, and more respect- 
 able Its possessor, if the cultivation of her heart, 
 and the employment of her time, on evangelical 
 principles, were the great object of her care ! 
 
 3. This sul^ject may with propriety be employed 
 to encourage and animate tlwse ivlio are engaged in 
 Female CliaritaUe Associations. These Associa- 
 tions are an honor to their founders and members 
 — an honor to our holy religion — an honor to all 
 who contribute to their support : — and I will add, 
 that the period which gave them birth, cannot fail 
 of being \dewed hereafter, as a grand aera in the 
 history of the female sex, and of mankind. When 
 females are thus associated, and thus employed, 
 they are pre-eminently acting in character. They 
 are mo\^ug in a sphere which is peculiarly their 
 own. Their exertions are calculated not merely to 
 . relieve present distress, but to improve the condi- 
 tion of society, to cultivate their own hearts, and 
 to confer l)lessings on generations yet unborn. 
 Were the tendency and the benefits of such asso- 
 ciations properly estimated, surely every female 
 w^ould be ambitious to become a member of them ; 
 and every good citizen would consider it, at once, 
 as his privilege and his ol)ligation, to be the friend 
 and the patron of their labors. 
 
 Members of such associations ! " be not weary in 
 well doing." Your task is arduous ; but it is still 
 more deliirhtful, and shall " in no wise lose its re- 
 
SAMUEL M I L L J-: K , D . P . 27 
 
 ward" — a reward more ricli, and more glorious tlum 
 a conqueror's crown. How exquisite tlie pleasure 
 Avliicli is attendant on a course of benevolent ex- 
 ertions, and on witnessing their fruits in tlie pro- 
 duction of human happiness. " What is there in 
 all the pageantry of state, in all the gratifications 
 of sense, in all the delirious joys of giddy dissipa- 
 tion, once to be compared with this ? O pleasures, 
 cheaply purchased, placidly enjoyed ; ever rising, 
 ever new ; never languid, never remc^rseful, why 
 are you pursued so seldom, and attained by so 
 few ?"* 
 
 In conclusion, let me say to all, '' the time is 
 short, and the fashion of this world passeth away.'' 
 Like Dorcas^ we all must soon sicken and die. Are 
 we habitually anticipating the solemnities of that 
 hour ? Are we daily directing our pursuits, em- 
 ploying our property, and framing our lives, agre^ 
 ably to this anticipation ? Do we resemble the 
 excellent Woman, on whose example we have been 
 meditating, in our character and hopes, as well as 
 in our mortality ? We cannot resemble her, un- 
 less we are disciples indeed. We may " give all 
 our goods to feed the poor," and " our bodies to be 
 burned," and yet be nothing more than " a sound- 
 ing brass, and a tinkling cymbal." But those deeds 
 of charity which spring from a living faith in a 
 li^dng Redeemer ; those works of obedience wliicli 
 are performed from a principle of love for his name ; 
 — these are " the good works, and the alms-deeds," 
 which shed a lustre around the bed of death, and 
 
 * Hunter's Occasional Sermons, II. p. 140. 
 
28 THE P K I X C E T O N PULPIT. 
 
 upon wliicli, iu n dying liour, we may look back 
 with koly satisftiction, witli lieavenly joy : — not as 
 tlie ground of our confidence ; not as the price of 
 ])ardon ; not as our title to everlasting life ; — no ; 
 the righteousness of " Him, who, through the eter- 
 nal Spirit, offered himself without spot to God," is 
 the only foundation of a sinner's hope : — but as 
 means by which a Divine Saviour has enabled us. 
 to glorify the riches of his grace ; as the fruits of 
 his blessed Spirit ; as evidences of a vital union to 
 his body ; and as pledges of admission to the glories 
 of his presence. 
 
 May that God, who has declared himself the 
 " Father of the fatherless, and the Judge of the 
 widow, in his lioly habitation," fill us all with the 
 spirit and the consolations of his children, enable 
 us to imitate his holy benevolence, and prepare us, 
 in due time, for his heavenly kingdom ! And to 
 Father, Son, and Holy Ghost, one God, be all the 
 praise, both now and ever ! Amen ! 
 
RIGHTLY DIVIDING THE WORD OF TRUTH. 
 
 BY 
 
 THE REV. ARCHIBALD ALEXANDER. D. D. 
 
 PEOFESSOK OF TITEOLOQY. 
 
 A Sermon preached in Duane Street Church, New Yorh, on 
 the third day of October, 1844, at the installation of the 
 pastor*, 
 
 " Stud}' to show thyself approved unto God, a workman that needeth not 
 to be ashantied, rightly dividing the word of Truth." — 2 Tim. ii. 15. 
 
 Some parts of Holy Scripture seem not at any 
 time to liave received as mucli attention as tlieir 
 importance merits, nor as much as is given to otlier 
 jiassages, of no greater moment. As an example 
 of wliat is liere asserted, may be adduced tlie 
 solemn admonition of Paul, in tlie verse immedi- 
 ately preceding tlie text, in wliieli lie directs Timo- 
 thy to charge the preachers over whom he had 
 superintendence, (and of course all), " before the 
 Lord, that they strive not about words to no profit, 
 but to the subverting of the hearers." Mere logo- 
 machies, or contentions about words, have been 
 productive of incalculable mischief in the Church 
 of God. These unprofitable disputes among the 
 
 " This discourse was not prepared for the press, but has been furnished 
 by a member of the author's family from his posthumous manuscripts. 
 
30 THE PKINCETON PULPIT. 
 
 professed followers of Christ, have not only un- 
 settled and subverted the minds of many within 
 the pale of the Church, l3nt have been the occasion 
 of deep-rooted prejudice in those who were with- 
 out ; by which their conversion has in many cases 
 been prevented or hindered. It has long been 
 remarked, that no spirit is more pungent and bit- 
 ter than that of theoloo^ians in their contentions 
 with one another ; and it has often happened, that 
 the less the difference, the more \drulent the acri- 
 mony. When the controversy relates merely, or 
 principally, to words, the strife is more obstinate 
 than when it relates to things, for in that case both 
 parties may be in the right. 
 
 But it may be asked, must the servant of God 
 yield the truth to any one who chooses to impugn 
 it, or is he at liberty to make a compromise with 
 error for the sake of peace ? I answer, by no 
 means. He is bound to contend for the faith 
 once delivered to the saints, and to hold fast the 
 form of sound words which he has received. Con- 
 troversy will be necessary so long as error exists, 
 but two things are strictly forbidden : first, unpro- 
 fitable contention, the tendency of which is " to 
 subvert the hearers ;" and, secondly, angry conten- 
 tion, for " the servant of the Lord must not strive, 
 but be gentle to all men." No man has a right to 
 compromise a single truth, for this is the sacr^ 
 deposit which he, in common with other ministers, 
 holds for the edification of the Church ; and which 
 they are bound to commit to other faithful men, to 
 be transmitted to those who mav come after them- 
 
A. ALEXA^S^DEK, D.D. 31 
 
 It is not our duty to enter into controversy witli 
 all those who may differ from us in matters not 
 fundamental. " Him that is weak in the faith re- 
 ceive ye, but not to doubtful disputations." " For 
 one believeth that he may eat all things ; another, 
 who is weak, eatetli herbs. Let not him that 
 eateth despise him that eateth not ; and let not 
 him that eateth not judge him that eateth, for 
 God hath received him. Let every man be fully 
 persuaded in his own mind." In all such cases, if 
 God's glory be the end, the person will be ac- 
 cepted, although he may be in tri^dal error. To 
 seek the honor and glory of God, is the grand cha- 
 racteristic of all true Christians. " For none of us 
 liveth to himself, and no man dieth to himself. 
 For whether we live, we live unto the Lord ; and 
 whether we die, we die unto the Lord ; whether 
 we live, therefore, or die, we are the Lord's." 
 
 In our text, Timothy is exhorted " to approve 
 himself to God as a workman ;" this term carries 
 mth it the idea of skill in his calling. He cannot 
 with propriety be called a workman who under- 
 takes a business which he knows not how to exe- 
 cute. At any rate, the " workman wdio needetli 
 not to be ashamed," must be skilled in what 
 relates to his profession. Two sorts of men 
 should, therefore, be excluded from the gospel 
 ministry : first, those who will not work ; se- 
 condly, those who know not how to perform 
 their work aright. Any man who fails in either 
 of these particulars, will l)ring shame upon him- 
 self It appears to be implied that peculiar 
 
o2 THE P E I X C E T O X PULPIT. 
 
 wisdom is requisite in discliarging tlie duties of 
 this office, for it is added, " riglitly dividing the 
 word of truth." Accurate discrimination is here 
 evidently required. Not every ignorant declaimer 
 is capal )le of doing tliis. He who would " rightly 
 divide the word of truth" must, unless he he in- 
 spired, diligently and for a long time study the 
 Bible. He should study it with all the aids which 
 can be obtained, human and divine. The body 
 cannot be dissected by one who has never studied 
 anatomy, and it would be reckoned great presump- 
 tion in an ignorant person to undertake to perform 
 the most difficult surgical opei^ation. His motives 
 might be good, and he might be persuaded that he 
 was doing a good thing, but that would not alter 
 the nature of the case, nor render quackery the 
 less dangerous. Such a man could not riglitly 
 divide^ or dissect the parts, so as to do no injury to 
 the vital organs. But does it not argue greater 
 presumption, for ignorant men to thrust themselves 
 into the office of the holy ministry ? Is it true 
 that this is a work which can Ije performed with- 
 out learning ? Or that little danger is to be ap- 
 prehended from the mistakes into which unskilful 
 workmen may fall ? We shall be better able to 
 answer these questions, when we have considered 
 what is requisite in " I'ightly dividing the word of 
 truth," wdiich is the single object which it is pro- 
 posed to keep in view in the remainder of this dis- 
 course. 
 
 Truth is of various kinds — physical, mathemati- 
 cal, moral, <fcc. ; but here one particular kind of 
 
A. ALEXANDER, D.D. 33 
 
 trntli is referred to, called tlie word of truth — 
 that is, the truth of the Word of God — the truth 
 of divine revelation — theological truth. The 
 Bible was not given to teach men philosophy, or 
 the arts which have respect to tliis life ; its object 
 is to teach the true knowledge of God, and the 
 true and only method of salvation. I might here 
 spend time in showing how much preparatory 
 learning and study are requisite to such a know- 
 ledge of the Bible as he ought to possess, who 
 undertakes to be an expositor of its truth. But I 
 will pass all this over, as sufficiently evident, and 
 proceed to make some observations on the im- 
 portant duty of " rightly dividing the word of 
 truth." 
 
 1. The truths of God's Word must be carefully 
 distinguished from error. Light and darkness are 
 not more opposite than truth and error. In some 
 cases, error comes forth into the oj)en light of day, 
 in its native deformity, avowing its hostility to 
 the word of God, and professing it as its object to 
 subvert the Holy Scriptures, under the pretext of 
 delivering the world from bondage, and obtaining 
 liberty for men to live as they list. With regard 
 to this species of error, there is no need of much 
 skill to run the line of division between it and 
 truth. Every honest mind can at once perceive 
 the wide difference ; and, as for those who have 
 pleasure in unrighteousness, it is often the judg- 
 ment which they incur from a just God. It has 
 often been observed, that infidels are as incapable 
 oi p&rceiving as of loving the truth. But some- 
 
34 THE PEINCETOI^ PULPIT. 
 
 times error assumes tlie garb, and uses tlie lan- 
 guage of trutli. Satan himself is transformed into 
 an angel of liglit ; no marvel, therefore, that error 
 and falsehood should wear a disguise fitted to 
 deceive the unwary, and, if it were possible, the 
 very elect. In all ages of the world, false teachers 
 have existed, and often abounded. False Apostles, 
 false prophets, deceitful workers, have ever been 
 the pests of the Church of God, under every dis- 
 pensation. And the earth is still inundated with 
 floods of error. Through pride and licentiousness, 
 men of corrupt minds still endeavor insidiously to 
 sap the foundation of Gospel truth ; the time is 
 come when many will not endure sound doctrine. 
 Here the skilful workman must be on the alert. 
 Here all his wisdom must be put in requisition, to 
 detect, expose, and refute every form of error and 
 heresy which may arise. By his skill, fidelity, and 
 vigilance, the tender flock of Christ must be pre- 
 served from "wolves in sheep's clothing." By a 
 clear exhiljition of Gospel truth, on all the impor- 
 tant points of religion, the people should be so in- 
 structed, and so imbued with the truth, that error 
 shall make no impression on them. Error is a 
 creeping pestilence ; no error can promote holiness. 
 The connection between truth and holiness is most 
 intimate and indissoluble. • 
 
 2. But it is necessary to divide the truth not 
 only from error, but from philosophy, and mere 
 human opinions and speculations. Many who do 
 not reject the truth, yet so cover her with robes of 
 their own weaving, that she cannot be seen in her 
 
A. ALEXANDER, P.D. 35 
 
 lovely simplicity. They are forever connecting; 
 witli tlie doctrines of God's Word, tlieir own wire- 
 dnnvn and uncertain speculations. We have too 
 much metaphysical reasoning in our theology. The 
 truth of God is not illustrated by such methods ; 
 it is rather obscured and adulterated. Thus, it 
 often happens, that a sermon contains very little 
 Scripture truth. After the text is uttered, the 
 preacher lias done with the Bible, and the hearers 
 are fed, or rather starved, by some abstruse discus- 
 sion of a subject, not treated of in the word of 
 God ; or which is there taken for granted as a 
 thing which requires no discussion, or which is 
 above the human intellect. Now, whether these 
 speculations are true or false, is of little conse- 
 quence ; for they serve neither to confirm our faith, 
 nor to strengthen our love to God and man. This 
 Ls not the pure wheat of the divine word ; it is 
 chaft', and " what is the chaff to the wheat ?" This 
 is not rightly to di\T[de the word of truth. The 
 spiritual workman must take pains to separate the 
 word of God from all admixture of mere human 
 philosophy, and metaphysical speculation. It is 
 the " sincere milk of the Word" after which the 
 new-born child of grace thirsts, and by which he 
 grows. 
 
 3. The skilful workman must be able to distin- 
 guish between fundamental truths, and such as are 
 not fundamental. All Bible truth is important, 
 and no part to be rejected or neglected. But some 
 truths must be known and believed, or the person 
 cannot be saved ; while there are other truths 
 
36 THE PEINCETOF PULPIT. 
 
 wliicli true Christians may be ignorant of, and 
 wliile ignorant may deny. Tliere are two grand 
 marks of fundamental doctrine. 1. That the de- 
 nial of them destroys the system. 2. That the 
 knowledge of them is essential to piety. All truth 
 is essential to the perfection of the system ; funda- 
 mental truths, to its existence. 
 
 4. Rightly to divide the word of truth, we must 
 arrange it in such order, as that it may be most 
 easily and effectually understood. In every sys- 
 tem some things stand in the place oi 'principles^ on 
 which the rest are built. He who would l^e a skil- 
 ful workman in God's building, must take much 
 pains with the foundation ; but he must not dwell 
 forever on the first principles of the doctrine of 
 Christ, but should endeavor to lead his people on 
 to perfection in the knowledge of the truth. 
 
 5. A good workman will so divide the word of 
 truth, as clearly to distinguish between the law 
 AND THE Gospel; between tlie covenant of worlds 
 and tlie covenant of grace. No mistakes in religion 
 have been more frequent or more fatal, than those 
 which relate to the terms of a sinner's accej^tance 
 with God, or the true method of justification. 
 These mistakes are the more to be dreaded, because 
 they seem to have the sanction of reason, which 
 dictates that a just God will treat men according to 
 their works. Upon a superficial view, it would 
 seem as if the doctrine of grace, or justification by 
 faith alone, was unfriendly to holiness. More than 
 one-half of the Christain world, therefore, are mis- 
 led by error, laore or less dangerous, on this point 
 
A. ALEXANDER, D.D. 37 
 
 of vital importance. Some are so blinded to tlie 
 deficiencies of their own righteousness, that they 
 place their whole dependence on their own good 
 deeds : while others are willing to compromise the 
 matter, and if their own merit may be permitted 
 to come in for a principal share in the honor of 
 their salvation, they are willing that Christ should 
 obtain the second place, and that by his merits their 
 own small deficiencies should be covered. By a 
 correction of error on this point of doctrine, Luther 
 began the reformation, and called it tlie article of 
 ilte standing or falling of the Churcli. And this 
 was correct, for an error here vitiates the whole 
 theology of the man who holds it ; and the minister 
 -v^ho does not clearly preach the doctrine of justifi- 
 cation by faith in the righteousness of Christ, 
 though he be as learned as Paul, or as eloquent 
 tis Apollos, is not such a workman as needeth not 
 to be ashamed. Such a one can never rightly di- 
 vide the word of truth. If he miss the mark on 
 this cardinal point, you will find him bewildered, 
 and Ijewildering his hearers everywhere else. The 
 Gospel in his mouth will give no distinct and in- 
 telligible sound, but will be a vague and confused 
 report ; and if he essentially err, in regard to the 
 method of a sinner's justification, he brings himself 
 under the anathema of Paul for preaching another 
 gospel — which, however, is not another, for it 
 brings no good news to lost sinners ; but sets men 
 at work to get into paradise at the old gate, which 
 was long ago shut up, and has for thousands of 
 years been guarded by the fiery-flaming sword of 
 
38 THE PEINCETOlSr PULPIT. 
 
 Divine justice. Here, again, men are prone, wlien 
 driven from one error, to fly to tlie opposite ; or 
 ratlier in shunning one extreme to run upon tlie 
 other. For while some seek salvation by the works 
 of the law, others deny that we have anything to 
 do with the law, and actually " by faith make void 
 the law," pretending and teaching that the obliga- 
 tion of the moral law has ceased, since Christ has 
 obeyed it in our stead. Now, this antinomian 
 leaven is a sweet morsel to the appetite of the carnal 
 professor ; for he loves safety and ease, but hates 
 self-denial and holy li™g. Others again talk of a 
 new law for Christians, which they call the law of 
 liberty or sincerity, because it does not condemn 
 for every transgression, as does the moral law, and 
 does not require absolute perfection in our obedi- 
 ence, but is satisfied with sincerity ; just as if God 
 could change the requisitions of his law without 
 changing his own nature, or as if it were not most 
 absurd to suppose that any law could require less 
 than perfect obedience to its own precepts. But we 
 hear from another quarter that the minister of Jesus 
 should preach /V6'6 grace^ and finished salvation, but 
 not utter the thunders of the law, and thus produce 
 a spirit of bondage by bringing back the terrors of 
 Sinai. Such persons may suppose that they are the 
 only friends of free grace ; but that minister who 
 ceases to exhibit the holy law of God in its spirit- 
 uality, extent, and binding obligation, may cease to 
 preach the Gospel also ; for where there are none 
 sick, there will be no need of a physician; and 
 where no law is preached, there will be no convic- 
 
A. ALEXANDEE, D.D. 39 
 
 tion of sill, and none crying out " wliat must we do 
 to be saved ?" — so that it is most evident the law 
 must precede the Gospel in the siimer's experience, 
 and also in riglitly dividing the word of truth. I 
 do not mean to sanction the absurd practical error, 
 that for a time, and it may be a considerable time, 
 the Gospel should be withheld from the people. 
 For what is this but to usurp the prerogative of 
 God ? In any audience, who can tell but there may 
 be at least one convinced sinner, who needs in- 
 stantly the consolations of the Gospel ? And they 
 who have already believed, need continually the 
 sprinkling on their heart and conscience of the same 
 blood which at first gave them peace. Let no 
 minister of Christ, therefore, presume to keep back, 
 during a single sermon, the precious Gospel of 
 Jesus Christ, which, probably, some poor sinner is 
 hearing: for the last time. Who that has read the 
 Acts of the Apostles, does not know that days and 
 weeks are not necessary for the conversion of a 
 soul by Almighty grace ? Conviction by the law, 
 and reconciliation l^y the Gospel, may sometimes 
 take place in a few minutes. The spiritual work- 
 man, therefore, who wdelds the two-edged sword of 
 the Spu'it, must so direct and manage this weapon 
 of proof, as to render it most efficient in penetra- 
 ting between the joints and marrow ; yea, between 
 the soul and the spirit, so that the very thoughts 
 of the heart may be made manifest. 
 
 Let the law be faithfully proclaimed, as binding 
 on every creature, and as cursing every impenitent 
 sinner ; and let the utter inability of man to satisfy 
 
40 THE PPwIXCETOlSr PULPIT. 
 
 its demands be clearly set forth, not as an excuse, 
 but as a fault ; and then let the riches of grace in 
 Christ Jesus be fully exhibited and freely offered, 
 and let all — however great their guilt — be urged 
 to accept of unmerited pardon, and complete salva- 
 tion. 
 
 6. Another thing very necessary to a correct di- 
 vision of the word of truth, is that the promises 
 and threatenings contained in the Scriptures be 
 applied to the characters to which they properly 
 belong. How often do we hear a preacher expatia- 
 ting on the rich consolations of tlie exceeding great 
 and precious promises of God, when no mortal can 
 tell, from anything which he says, to whom they 
 are applicable. In much of preaching, there is a 
 vague and indiscriminate application of the special 
 promises of the covenant of grace, as though all who 
 heard them were true Christians, and had a claim 
 to the comfort which they oifer. This is not a skil- 
 ful division of tbe word of truth. In sucli a divi- 
 sion, the saint and the sinner are clearly distin- 
 guished by decisive scripture marks ; so that every 
 one may have a fair opportunity of ascertaining 
 to which class he belongs, and what prospects lie 
 before kim. Rightly dividing the word of truth 
 includes, therefore, what may be termed cliarader- 
 istical preaching — that is, a clear and just delinea- 
 tion of character, by using the pencil of inspiration. 
 For if, in this business, men follow their own fan- 
 cies, and lay down marks of piety not authorized 
 by tke Word of God, they will often cry peace to 
 those to whom God has not spoken peace, and will 
 
A . A L E X A N D E K , I) . D . 41 
 
 give unnecessary pain to tlie children of God by ob- 
 scuring their evidences, and perplexing their minds 
 with fears and scruples by a false representation of 
 the true characteristics of genuine piety. It is much 
 to be regretted that this accurate discrimination in 
 preaching has gone so much out of use in our times. 
 It is but seldom that we hear a discourse from the 
 pulpit which is calculated to afford much aid to 
 Christians in ascertaining their own true character ; 
 or which will serve to detect the h}^ocrite and for- 
 malist, and drive them from all their false refuges. 
 In the best days of the reformed churches, such dis- 
 criminating delineation of character, by the light 
 of Scripture, formed an important part of almost 
 every sermon. But we are now more attentive to 
 the rules of rhetoric than to the marks of true re- 
 ligion. How do Owen, Flavel, Boston, and Erskine 
 abound in marks of distinction between the true 
 and false professor ? And the most distinguished 
 preachers of our own country — the Mathers, 
 Shepards, Stoddards, Edwardses, as also the Blairs, 
 Tennents, Davies, and Dickinsons, were wise in so 
 dividing the word of truth, that all might receive 
 their portion in due season. But certainly the 
 word of truth should be so handled, that every 
 person who does not turn away his eyes may see 
 the lineaments of his true character, reflected from 
 the word, as the image from the glass. This, in- 
 deed, requires something more than a fertile im- 
 agination and a ready utterance — more than the 
 learning of the schools, or profound critical acumen. 
 It requires that the preacher study much upon his 
 4 
 
42 THE PRIJSTCETOlSr PULPIT." 
 
 knees, that lie examine Ms own lieart witli unceas- 
 ing care, tliat " the Word of God dwell in him 
 richly, in all wisdom and spiritual understanding ;" 
 and also that he converse frequently and freely 
 with experienced Christians. In these matters 
 there are many private persons who are wiser than 
 their teachers ; and a preacher, of true humility, 
 will be often glad to learn from those who have had 
 longer or deeper experience than himself. While 
 others are seeking his counsel in regard to their 
 spiritual condition, he is learning from them, for 
 these are lessons which we can best learn from the 
 living subject. 
 
 T. But finally, the Avord of God should be so 
 handled, that it may be adapted to Christians in 
 different states and stages of the divine life ; for 
 while some Christians are like " strong men," others 
 are but " babes in Christ, who must be fed with 
 milk, and not with strong meat." Christ taught 
 his disciples as they were able to bear it, and re- 
 served many things which he wished to say, to the 
 time when they were capable of understanding his 
 meaning. The same course was pursued by Paul. 
 We are bound, indeed, " to declare the whole 
 counsel of God," but in due order, at proper times, 
 and with a wise reference to the strength and 
 spiritual attainments of our hearers. We must 
 " keep nothing back which is profitable," but he 
 who is wise to win souls, will judge correctly when, 
 and in what way, particular parts of the system of 
 truth should be inculcated. Christ will not have 
 
A. ALEXANDER, D.D. 43 
 
 the bruised reed broken, nor the smoking flax 
 quenched. 
 
 Again, respect must be had to the condition of 
 Christians, as they are found advancing in the 
 divine life, or falling into a state of backsliding 
 and declension. The former should be stimulated 
 to persevere ; the latter should be plucked as 
 brands from the burning. The word of truth 
 ought also to be so divided as to be adapted to the 
 external circumstances of Christians. When in 
 prosperity and honor, they should be admonished 
 not to he liigh-minded^ hut fear ^ not to trust in un- 
 certain riches^ hut in the living God^ loJio giveth us 
 all things richly to enjoy. They should be ex- 
 horted to rejoice ivitli tremUing^ and to use the 
 tvorld as not al using it, and should be reminded 
 that by worldly prosperity, many professors have 
 sunk low in piety, have become infatuated with the 
 gaiety and pageantry of a vain world. Their affec- 
 tions fixed too intensely upon the creature, piety 
 often withers under the sunshine of prosperity, and 
 they become co? formed to the tvorld, participate in 
 its pleasure, and court its honors. Even the real 
 Christian, in this condition, has a morbid sensibility, 
 Avhicli exposes him to take offence at the wounds 
 inflicted by brotherly reproof, and friendly warn- 
 ing. Here the knife of the spiritual surgeon is 
 wanted. A dangerous gangrene has arisen on tlie 
 inner man, which must not be suffered to grow. 
 Let the ftiithful warnings of the pulpit ring in the 
 conscience of the professor who exliil)its a charac- 
 ter so doubtful, and stands in a position so danger- 
 
44 THE PEINCETON PULPIT. 
 
 ous. By fidelity ministers may give offence to their 
 best supporters, and cause tliem to forsake their 
 ministry ; it may be so ; it has been so, but he 
 must approve himself to God. Whenever a minis- 
 ter of the gospel makes it his chief aim to please 
 men, he ceases to be the servant of God. He must 
 therefore reprove, rebuke, exhort, with all long 
 suffering and doctrine. Whether men will hear or 
 forbear, he must be faithful to his Master and to 
 their souls ; and must, at every risk, clear his skirts 
 of their blood, " warning every man, and teaching 
 every man, with all meekness." 
 
 But God's people are often in affliction, and are 
 led through deep waters. One billow succeeds 
 another in quick succession, until they are almost 
 overwhelmed, and, ready to sink, they cry out of 
 the depths. Or, long-continued judgments press 
 them down, until their spirits are broken with sor- 
 row. " Many are the afflictions of the righteous." 
 " Whom the Lord loveth, he chasteneth, and scourg- 
 eth every son whom he receiveth." 
 
 But under all these sorrows he has provided for 
 them refreshing cordials in his Word, that their 
 fainting spirits may be relieved, and their broken 
 hearts healed. These must be administered by the 
 spiritual physician. These disconsolate and afflicted 
 members of the flock are those who most need the 
 pastor's care. Over these he must exercise a watch- 
 ful and tender supervision ; and however humble 
 theii' habitation, and obscure their condition, they 
 must be sought out and visited. Here you may 
 see the difference between the man-pleasing, time- 
 
A. ALEXANDER, D.D. 45 
 
 serving preaclier, and the Lumble, faithful man of 
 God ; for while the former is continually courting 
 and flattering the great, and feasting with the rich, 
 the latter is searching for the sheep and lambs of 
 his Master's flock, that he may feed and comfort 
 them, in imitation of the Great Shepherd. He 
 must condescend to men of low estate — remember 
 the poor — visit the sick — and have a word in sea- 
 son for every weary soul ; yea, he must pilot the 
 departing pilgrim over Jordan to the land of pro- 
 mise. 
 
 There is a portion for the dying which must not 
 be withheld. When heart and flesh fail, and the 
 spirit is on the wing, and just ready to take her 
 flight into unknown worlds, then must the guide of 
 souls hold up the torch of truth to enlighten her 
 as she passes through the " valley and shadow of 
 death." Then let the voice of the Great Shepherd 
 be heard in his word of promise, saying, " I will 
 never leave thee nor forsake thee." "In my 
 Father's house are many mansions ;" " Father, it is 
 my will that where I am, there my disciples may 
 be also, that they may behold my glory." 
 
 The exhortation of Paul to Timothy is to study 
 to show himself approved unto God, a workman 
 that needeth not to be ashamed : and he points out 
 the method by which he might thus meet with the 
 Di\4ne approbation, viz., by rightly di\ading the 
 word of truth. What is included in this duty, we 
 have now considered, and will leave the applica- 
 tion to those who are interested in the subject. 
 Ministers, who are accustomed to teach others. 
 
46 THE PEINCETOIS^ PULPIT. 
 
 ought to be willing to teach themselves also. They 
 who have the skill aud fidelity to apply the truth 
 to the consciences of their hearers, should also be 
 taithful to their own souls in detecting^ and censur- 
 ing their own failures in time past, and should to 
 the last day of their ministry endeavor to improve 
 in every pastoral qualification, and in fidelity and 
 skill in dividing the word -of truth. Many useful 
 inferences might be deduced from this subject, but 
 I forbear to brins^ them forward, first because I have 
 already consumed as much of your time as is pro- 
 per ; and, again, because I would not trench upon 
 the ground which will more properly be occupied 
 by those brethren who have been designated to 
 take part in this solemn service. 
 
 I would conclude by remarking that my own 
 ministry in the Word is coming fast to a close ; and 
 one of my greatest consolations is to see younger 
 ministers raised up by the Great Head of the 
 Church, to fill the places of us who must soon 
 leave the stage. I consider the preaching of the 
 Gospel to be the most honoral^le and important 
 work in the world. The exio^encies of the Church 
 now demand ministers of the highest qualifications ; 
 and of all qualifications none is so indispensable as 
 deep, unfeigned, spiritual piety — a heart imbued 
 habitually with the Spirit of Christ, and disposed 
 to count all things but loss for his sake ; and will- 
 ing to count not their own lives dear to them, so 
 that they may finish their course with joy, and the 
 ministry received of the Lord Jesus, to testify the 
 Gospel of the grace of God." 
 
A . A L E X A N DER , D . D . 4T 
 
 The wise, faithful, and laborious workman may 
 be enabled to say with Paul, shortly before the 
 close of his ministry, " I am now ready to be offered, 
 and the time of my departure is at hand. I have 
 fought a good fight, I have finished my course, I 
 have kept the fjiith. Henceforth there is laid up 
 for me a crown of righteousness, which the Lord, 
 the righteous Judge, will give me at that day ; and 
 not to me only, but unto all them also that love 
 his appearing." Then, indeed, will the Supreme 
 Judge manifest his approbation of all his faithful 
 servants who have rightly divided the word of 
 truth. 
 
A BACCALAUREATE DISCOURSE. 
 
 BY 
 
 THE REV. JAMES CARNAHAN, D.D., 
 
 riiESIDEKT OF THE COLLEGE OF NEW JBESEY. 
 
 " Young men likewise exhort to be sober minded-" — Titus ii. 6. 
 
 The Epistle of tlie Apostle Paul to Titus, from 
 whicli our text is taken, may be considered as a 
 charge to a minister of tlie gospel as to the manner 
 in which he ought to perform the duties of his sa- 
 cred and solemn office. In it the Apostle instructs 
 Titus respecting the doctrines which he is to teach, 
 the example which he is to set, and the duties which 
 he is to enjoin on different persons, according to 
 their age and condition in life. To persons of every 
 age and condition, Titus is to preach salvation by the 
 grace of God, through the redemption purchased 
 by our Lord Jesus Christ, and the necessity of holi- 
 ness of heart and life. Yet the Apostle does not con- 
 tent himself with general precepts of Christian mo- 
 rality applicable to all descriptions of men. He 
 enters into a detail of the sins to be avoided, and of 
 the duties to be performed by persons of different 
 ages and classes in society. There are temptations 
 and sins peculiar to men of different ages and condi- 
 
D.D. 49 
 
 tions ill life. Sin, wliicli is common to all, assumes 
 various aspects from cliildliood to old age. The same 
 temptations wliicli seduce the young, do not ordi- 
 narily affect the aged, or even those in middle life. 
 The rich and the poor, the master and the servant, 
 do not usually commit the same sins. In the verses 
 immediately connected with our text, the Apos- 
 tle directs Titus to accommodate his instructions to 
 the character of various classes. To aged men and 
 aged women, to young women and to servants, he 
 directs peculiar and specified admonitions and warn- 
 ings to be given. And in our text, he adds — Young 
 men likewise exliort to he sober-minded. 
 
 Young men are proverbially rash, impetuous — 
 guided by the impulse of the moment, regardless 
 of consequences ; and on this account they need to 
 be exhorted, to reflect, to meditate, to consider, to 
 exercise the attributes of rational and accountable 
 agents, to listen to the voice of God speaking to 
 them in his written word, in the dispensations of 
 his providence, in the experience of those more ad- 
 vanced in years, and in the suggestions of their own 
 conscience. 
 
 To he soher-minded^ m the sense in which the 
 Apostle uses the expression, does not require young 
 men to be dull, stupid, lethargic, moved by no gene- 
 rous impulse, aiming at no high and noble object, 
 exerting no physical and intellectual power. So 
 far from instructing them to aim at such a listless, 
 inactive, and idiotic state, the Apostle elsewhere ex- 
 horts them, as well as others, to be " diligent in 
 business, and fervent in spirit ;" to lay aside every 
 
50 THE PEINCETON PULPIT. 
 
 hindrance, and to exert tliemselves witli the vigor 
 and energy of those who strive for the mastery in 
 running, in wrestling, and in whatever men are 
 wont to put forth their highest efforts. 
 
 Nor does the term sober-minded in the passage 
 before us mean, that young men should be morose, 
 austere, melancholy, averse to all social cheerful- 
 ness. In this respect, the teaching of Jesus 
 Christ and his Apostles, unlike that of the ancient 
 Stoics, does not aim to extinguish the passions 
 of men, but to lay them under such restraints, and 
 to give them such a direction as is accordant with 
 the will of Him who made us what we are. 
 
 A man may be what the Apostle means by sober- 
 minded^ and be at the same time a most interesting 
 and pleasant companion. 
 
 The original Greek word, aoxjigoveiv, translated 
 sober-minded^ is composed of two words — the one 
 {ooog or (jwf) signifying sound, healthful, free from 
 disease ; the other (<Pq7]v) signifying mind or intel- 
 lect. And the word composed of these two ele- 
 ments, signifies a sound or sane mind, free from such 
 corrupt bias as would prevent an individual from 
 deciding or acting in a discreet, judicious, and wise 
 manner. The object, then, which the Apostle, in- 
 spired by the Holy Spirit, would have young men 
 exhorted to attain, is a discreet, sound, healthy state 
 of mind, free from the infatuation which possesses 
 many of this age, and which sooner or later leads 
 them to ruin. Such I understand to be the mean- 
 ing of the Apostle — ■ Young men liheiuise exliort to 
 he sober-minded. And in obedience to this injunc- 
 
JAMES C A K N A II A ]Sr, D.D. 51 
 
 tion, we sliall exliort and endeavor to persuade 
 young men to seek a sound, liealtliy, and sane mind, 
 free from sucli prejudices and passions as obscure 
 the intellect, stupify tlie conscience, and prevent 
 the attainment of high moral excellence. 
 
 In most men there is a species of infatuation si- 
 milar in its effects to intoxicating stimulants. They 
 become unduly excited under the influence of some 
 dominant passion or ruhng motive, and they rush 
 on headlong, as if they were blind-folded, until they 
 have approached so near the fatal abyss, that to 
 arrest their progress is impracticable. 
 
 What we see every day passing around us, justi- 
 fies us in saying that this infatuation is more com- 
 mon, as well as more fatal, in young men than in 
 any other. In whatever way we may account for 
 the fact, we see many young men acting as if they 
 were bereft of their senses, as well es destitute of 
 reason. The winged insect that sports around a 
 hghted taper in a summer evening, is not more cer- 
 tain to fall a prey to the dazzling object around 
 which it flutters, than these young men are to meet 
 inevitable ruin. Hundreds and thousands in every 
 age, have pursued the same course, and they have 
 fallen victims to their own folly ; and yet others 
 rise up and take the same course. They seem to 
 be under the influence of a species of insanity or 
 madness, so that the motives which ought to govern 
 rational beings, have no influence on their conduct. 
 Grasping at the phantoms that flit before their 
 imagination, they lose objects of real and substan- 
 tial value. 
 
52 THE PEINCETON PULPIT. 
 
 The parable of the prodigal son, recorded in the 
 gospel, is an apt and striking illustration of the 
 character and conduct of many young men. In 
 this parable it is plainly intimated, that the prodi- 
 gal labored under a species of infatuation — that he 
 was actually deranged ; for it is said wlien Tie came 
 to himself — that is, when he had recovered his rea- 
 son, and was delivered from the delusion that pos- 
 sessed him, he formed the purpose of returning to 
 his father's house. He then began to think, to re- 
 flect, to compare the wretched condition in which 
 he found himself, with the quiet, peaceful, and sub- 
 stantial enjoyments of his father's house. His de- 
 lusion vanished — lie came to himself — reason re- 
 sumed its office, and conscience prompted him, un- 
 grateful as he had been, to return to his duty. I 
 xoill arise and go to my father^ was the first rational 
 expression that had escaped from his lips from the 
 time he had left his father's house. How many 
 imitate the folly of the prodigal son, who never 
 come to themselves, and form the purpose to return 
 to their duty, until it is too late ! And why is it 
 that young men do not profit by the sad experience 
 of those who have gone before them % Why is it 
 that the loss of health, of property, of rejDutation, 
 and the certainty of eternal ruin, do not cause them 
 to turn their feet from the path that has led others 
 to a wretched end ? It is because they lack that 
 sober, sound, discriminating mind recommended by 
 the Apostle. They suffer themselves to be deluded 
 by the dazzling phantoms created by a heated ima- 
 gination, and permit their appetites and passions, 
 
JAMES CAKNAIIAN, D.D. 53 
 
 and not tlieir reason and conscience, to become their 
 guide. 
 
 Young men are beset witli temptations from 
 within and from without. Their appetites are keen, 
 their passions strong and easily excited, and objects 
 are daily presented suited to feed the fires within 
 them. 
 
 At this age, the animal part of our nature is 
 more fully developed than the intellectual and 
 moral. The immediate gratification of the appe- 
 tites and passions is too tempting to be resisted. 
 If the first taste of criminal sensual pleasure was as 
 bitter as when the cup is drained to the dregs, it 
 would be rejected with disgust. But it is not so. 
 There is a pleasure connected with the sins which 
 men commit, especially in early life. And the first 
 gratification tempts to a second, and that to a third, 
 until the whole soul is absorbed in the indulgence 
 of some cherished lust or passion. 
 
 Moral painters, who have noticed the actings of 
 human nature, are wont to represent the com- 
 mencement of the paths of vice as strewed with 
 flowers, and those of virtue, at the beginning, as 
 rough, difiScult, and laborious. And if it were not 
 so, where would be the temptation to sin ? We 
 will admit that there is as high enjoyment in the 
 gratification of the appetites and passions, natural 
 to youth, as the votaries of sensual pleasure may 
 please to affirm — that the pleasure is so exquisite, 
 that it captivates, enchants, and excites the soul 
 even to ecstacy. And what then? It produces 
 that very state of mind which is the most, danger- 
 
54 THE PEINCETON PULPIT. 
 
 ous and ruinous. Tlie animal part of our nature is 
 raised above tlie intellectual and moral. Tlie order 
 and harmony of the human constitution is de- 
 rauged, and that part which ought to act in subser- 
 viency to the nobler powers becomes predominant, 
 and the wonderful machinery works its own 
 speedy ruin. The songs of the fabled Sirens are 
 said to have been enchanting, and their cup deli- 
 cious. But the music was intended to decoy the un- 
 suspecting mariner on the fatal rock, and the cup, 
 when tasted, transformed human beings into the 
 lowest and most filthy brutes. I am aware of the 
 excuse or apology which young men offer for in- 
 dulo-ing their appetites and passions — I have heard 
 it a hundred times ; and ninety-nine times in a 
 hundred I have seen in the end that it was utterly 
 false and deceptive. Their self-confidence has been 
 their ruin. They say they have nO taste for intoxi- 
 catino- drinks ; that they have their appetites and 
 passions under perfect command ; that they will 
 be prudent, and will never, except on rare occa- 
 sions, go beyond certain limits. And what has 
 been the consequence ? We have seen these strong 
 men laid low — these prudent men, of firm and un- 
 shaken purpose, become so mfatuated and enslaved^ 
 that they suffered no opportunity to pass without 
 falling into debasing self-indulgence. 
 
 Young men have usually sufiicient buoyancy 
 without using artificial means to raise their spirits. 
 Stupid fools may need something to quicken their 
 genius ; but, after they have taken the exciting 
 
JAMES CAEN A HAN, D.D. 55 
 
 dranglit, they are, in tlie estimation of every one 
 except themselves, fools still. 
 
 Few men, under the influence of their cups, have 
 a clearer head, a sounder judgment, or even a more 
 l^rilliant wit, than when not thus excited. The 
 imagination may indeed be roused ; but it is wild, 
 erratic, leading the man to form projects, to execute 
 designs, and to perpetrate crimes which he would 
 not have thought of in his sober moments. 
 
 The evil of this sin is, that it prepares the way 
 for the commission of every other sin. No man 
 beforehand can say what he will not do, when un- 
 der the influence of this maddening and demoniac 
 spirit. Tell me what crime it has not excited men 
 to commit ? What obligation it has not violated ? 
 What form of human degradation and wretched- 
 ness it has not produced ? 
 
 Within a few years much has been said and much 
 has been done to arrest the progress of this de- 
 stroyer of human happiness. But still the delu- 
 sion, which leads young men to immolate them- 
 selves on an altar smeared with more blood of 
 human victims than ever stained the cars of Ju"-- 
 
 o 
 
 gernaut, is not dissipated. Many try how far they 
 can go within the verge of the fatal whirlj^ool, and 
 yet resist its suction ; and they direct their frail 
 bark round and round the yawning gulf until re- 
 sistance is hopeless. 
 
 Is that young man of a sound and sane mind 
 who, for the sake of gratifying his taste vr of amus- 
 ing his companions, will go within the limits of 
 the enchanted circle and hazard these dangers ? 
 
56 THE PEINCETON PULPIT. 
 
 Througli want of more extended observation, 
 young men labor under one great disadvantage. 
 Tbey see tlie beginning, but tliey do not see the 
 end. Tliey see tlie temporary excitement of tbeir 
 com23anions. All is gayety, and mirth, and social 
 enjoyment. None of the party are habitual druiik- 
 ards. They look with abhorrence and contempt on 
 the degraded being who is staggering in the street 
 or hanging about the tavern door. 
 
 They do not know, or at least they do not con- 
 sider, that the ruined man, whom they despise, 
 once occupied the same position which they now 
 hold ; that he was once as gay, and as cheerful, and 
 as far from being an habitual drunkard as they are, 
 and that he sincerely thought he could never be 
 reduced to his present debased condition. Con- 
 fident that he could at any time desist, he advanced 
 step by step, until he is utterly lost. 
 
 We have noticed intoxicating stimulants as the 
 first cause of exciting the infatuation of young men, 
 because it is the most common and fatal. But 
 there are other causes. The Prodigal Son, to whose 
 case we have already referred, wasted his sub- 
 stance not in riotous living only, but also with 
 liarlots. 
 
 The delicacy of the present age almost forbids 
 us to name this subject before a public audience. 
 It was not so in the teaching of our Lord and his 
 Apostles. They denounced lewdness in all its forms 
 in plain and unequivocal terms. Our boasted re- 
 finement is no certain proof that in this respect 
 morals are more pure than in the days of our 
 
JAMES C A R N A II A Ts' , D . D , 57 
 
 Lord and his Apostles. Whatever may be the cause 
 of this extreme sensitiveness, one thing is certain, 
 that this sin has lost none of its moral turpitude 
 and baneful consequences. God has mai'ked his 
 abhorrence of this crime, in the haggard counte- 
 nance, the decrepit frame, and premature death 
 of its votaries, in the degradation and wretchedness 
 of the female sex, in the mortification and untold 
 agonies of parents and friends, and in the unnatural 
 and horrid crimes to which a desire to conceal 
 their shame, not unfrequently impels its victims. 
 And yet there are young men, who speak lightly, 
 and even boast of this sin, which, if generally pre- 
 valent, would rob social and domestic life of all its 
 endearments. The relation of husband and wife, 
 of parent and child, of brother and sister, would 
 lose all their charms — all the sacred ties that bind 
 affectionate hearts would be broken, and our public 
 as well as domestic institutions would be torn into 
 fragments. 
 
 It is a delusion, an infatuation of the worst kind, 
 which tempts young men to hazard consequences 
 so appalling. " Let them beware of the smile on 
 the lips, and the roses on the cheeks of the De- 
 ceiver, sensual pleasure. — Her end is hitter as 
 wormwood^ sharper than a ttvo-edged sword: her 
 feet go down to death^ and her steps take hold ov, 
 Hell:''' 
 
 Gaming is another practice which inflames the 
 blood and fires the brain of some young men, even 
 to desperation and madness. 
 
 * Logan. 
 
 5 
 
58 THE PEI]SrCETON PULPIT. 
 
 To persons not initiated into tlie mysteries of tlie 
 gaming-table, it, seems strange and unaccountable 
 that rational beings can spend hours and wliole 
 niglits shuffling cards or rattling a dice-box ; tbat 
 the interest tlius excited should become so intense 
 as to exclude from the mind every other thought 
 except that of winning or losing a game depend- 
 ing more on chance and fraud than on dexterity 
 and skill. Such we understand is the fact even 
 when no pecuniary interest is at stake. But when 
 cupidity or the desire of gain is added, as is usually 
 the case, the ardor and intensity of thought and 
 feeling cannot be expressed. The eye is fixed, the 
 lips closed, the breath suppressed, watching the 
 issue of a lucky or unlucky moment. I speak not 
 now of the cold-blooded, heartless, professional 
 gambler who would strip his best friend of the 
 last cent, and leave an amiable woman, and her 
 helpless children, without a crust of bread to 
 eat, or a rag to cover them. I speak of more 
 decent, respectable men, who uidiappily have 
 contracted a passion for gaming, and who, 
 unmindful of the claims of a dependent family, 
 hazard all, at the gaming table or horse-race. 
 I speak of young men of respectable family 
 Connections, in honorable and confidential employ- 
 ments, who are driven by this fell passion to rob 
 their employers, to betray their trust, to commit 
 forgery, in order to pay what are called debts of 
 honor. The penitentiary or suicide not unfre- 
 quently closes the drama. Is that young man of 
 
JAMES car:^aiian, d.d. 59 
 
 a sound mind who takes tlie first step towards 
 sucli a catastrophe ? 
 
 Let me remark that the same spirit actuates 
 many young men, who are never seen at the ga- 
 ming table or race-ground, or betting at elections, or 
 dabl^ling in lottery tickets. I refer to a large class, 
 who neglect the means ordinarily connected with 
 the attainment of a desirable object, and whose 
 prospect of success depends entirely on something 
 in which they have no agency. 
 
 Such is the wise ordination of Providence, that 
 certain means are connected with particular ends : 
 so that when the means are neglected, the end is 
 seldom reached. 
 
 There are some young men, who have no par- 
 ticular or general object in view, and consequent 
 they employ no thought in selecting means, and 
 make no efforts in pressing forward to an object 
 before them. Like the bubble that floats on the 
 surface of an agitated pool, they move in whatever 
 direction the impulse of the moment drives them. 
 They are literally creatures of chance. The provi- 
 dence of Grod, which extends to the falling of a 
 sparrow, never comes into their thoughts. Both 
 theii" temporal and eternal interests, so far as any 
 agency of their own are concerned, is a perfect lot- 
 tery, and their chance of success, either in this 
 world or in that which is to come, is less than one 
 to a million. Brutes following the blind in- 
 stincts of their nature, may attain the end for 
 which they were created, but man, without thought 
 and eifort wisely directed, cannot. 
 
60 THE PRIjSrCETOX PULPIT. 
 
 There are others, who have an object in view, 
 and they are sufficiently ardent in their desires to 
 possess it, but they neglect the means by which it 
 is ordinarily attained. For example ; they desire 
 to be rich, and they regard industry and economy, 
 the old fashioned way of acquiring w^ealth, as too 
 slow and plodding ; they must reach the object at 
 a single bound. They enter into w^ild speculations, 
 and commence an expensive style of living. Our 
 country, at the present time, presents too many 
 examples of such folly and madness. The humble 
 and useful employments of agriculture and the 
 mechanical arts are despised and abandoned ; 
 every young man must needs be a gentleman ; 
 that is, he must not stain his hands, nor soil his 
 clothes with manual labor. Few young men at the 
 present time, like Koger Sherman and Benjamin 
 Franklin, pursue with diligence an honest and la- 
 borious occupation, while they seize every leisure 
 moment to store their minds with useful know- 
 ledge. 
 
 Again ; there is another class of young men, who, 
 in the providence of God, are placed in such cir- 
 cumstances, that they might devote their whole 
 time to the improvement of their minds, and to the 
 duties of a liberal profession. They, too, hope to 
 reach the temple of fame, not by such means as 
 Cicero and Demosthenes and others emj^loyed, but 
 borne on the wings of their genius, or wafted by 
 some propitious breeze, they hope, without effort, 
 to reach the heights to which others have climbed by 
 gradual and laborious steps, and when sad experi- 
 
JAIMES CAKNAHAN, D.D. CI 
 
 ence lias dispelled tlie delusion, we see them with 
 wasted estate, unfit for any useful employment, 
 begging some humble public office, or what is 
 worse, washing from their minds, in the grog-shop, 
 the remembrance of their early folly. How far 
 the course of reading pursued by the class of 
 young men described, tends to form their charac- 
 ter, and to- determine their fate, is a matter worthy 
 of serious consideration. It does seem to me that 
 the novels and romances, and licentious poetry, 
 found on their tables, and occupying the time that 
 ought to be devoted to grave and laborious stu 
 dies, have no small influence in inflaming the ima 
 gination, kindling the passions, and in forming that 
 insignificant and worthless character manifested in 
 future life. 
 
 Once more ; the company with which a young 
 man associates is another means of perverting his 
 moral sentiments, corrupting his morals, and has- 
 tening his progress in the road to ruin. Man is a 
 social being, formed for intercourse with his fel- 
 lows, and dependent on others for a large portion 
 of his enjoyment. But this blessing, like every 
 other, is capable of being perverted and abused ; 
 so that, in the present state of human nature, there 
 is no more certain means of hastening a young man's 
 ruin, than that of placing him in the society of cor- 
 rupt associates. PerhajDS, no direct attack may be 
 made on his moral and religious principles ; nothing 
 gross and offensive to delicate and virtuous feelings 
 may at first be presented to view ; on the contrary, 
 the manners of his new associates may be fiiscina- 
 
62 THE PRINCETON PULPIT. 
 
 ting, tlieir attentions kind and courteous, and tlieir 
 whole deportment calculated to impress tlie mind 
 witli the idea of frankness, generosity, and other 
 social qualities. Such companions, if their princi- 
 ples be corrupt, and their practice licentious, are 
 vastly more dangerous than the foul-mouthed and 
 grossly profane profligate ; because the approaches 
 of the one are repulsive, and of the other attractive. 
 The young man who can be pleased with the 
 openly profane and avowedly licentious, is himself 
 already corrupted, and needs no aid to urge him 
 forward in the downward road. But the compara- 
 tively innocent may be led astray, when the green 
 path which he is invited to tread is strewed with 
 flowers, and the atmosphere around hini is serene 
 and balmy. Let the young man who values his 
 future peace, beware of the smiles and caresses of a 
 fascinating and corrupt companion ; sooner or later, 
 he will sympathize with his associate, imbibe his 
 spirit, and imitate his pi'actice. 
 
 When a number of young men are banded to- 
 gether for the purpose of seeking criminal self-in- 
 dulgence, or of executing any evil purpose, an 
 esiyrit de corps is generated, and no one, however 
 contrary the acts proposed may be to the dictates 
 of his conscience, dares to break ranks. They 
 move forward in a com2:>act phalanx, mutually in- 
 spiring each other with confidence, and in their 
 united capacity do acts which the most abandoned 
 among them would not dare to do separately. 
 From this principle it is, that the rush of a mob is 
 as blind and impetuous as the mountain torrent, 
 
JAMES CAEN All AN, D.D. G8 
 
 sweeping every thing before it, and no one feeling 
 responsible for tlie outrages on justice and hu- 
 manity committed. Eeason has fled, and the voice 
 of conscience is not heard amidst the shouts of the 
 multitude. Let the young man who wishes to pre- 
 serve and cultivate a sober and sane mind, beware 
 of entering into a combination to do evil, how plau- 
 sible soever may be the pretext. 
 
 Other causes of infatuating the minds of young 
 men might be mentioned, but we hasten to inquire 
 by what means this delusion may be removed, and 
 the healthy and sane state of mind recommended 
 by the Apostle may be attained. In the first 
 place, we remark, that the young man who would 
 obey the injunction of the Apostle, must pause, 
 consider, and exercise the faculties of a rational 
 being. But how, it may be asked, is this to be 
 done, since this is the very point in which young 
 men are generally deficient ? As soon, you will 
 say, as they are brought to think and act in a ra- 
 tional manner, the work is done — they are then 
 sober-minded. We answer, it is true young men 
 are rash, impetuous, and often wild in their opin- 
 ions, and act as if their minds were infatuated ; 
 still they have reason, although it is not exercised 
 in a right way ; and they have a conscience, al- 
 though its voice is not heard amidst the din of 
 their passions and the tumult of the world around 
 them. To these two principles, reason and con- 
 science, imperfect and defective as they are, 
 an appeal must be made. We must exhort young 
 men to he sober-minded. And if they will not 
 
64 THE PRINCETON PULPIT. 
 
 listen and weigh, the motives presented, they must 
 be left to take their own course, and bear the con- 
 sequences. And will not those whom we address 
 suspend, at least for a short time, the usual train 
 of their thoughts, and consider whether they have 
 not heretofore been laboring under some fatal 
 delusion ! 
 
 Our first position which we wish young men 
 seriously to consider is, that sin leads to misery. 
 
 The laws of the moral world are as fixed and 
 certain as those of the physical. Whatsoever a man 
 sowetli^ that also shall he reap^ is as true in the one 
 case as the other. And here you will notice that 
 this truth does not de^Dend on abstract reasoning — 
 nor is it a truth aflirmed by divine revelation with- 
 out any confirmation from experience. 
 
 That the tvay of transgressors is hard^ is a fact 
 which we see daily established by visible proofs. 
 "What is the result of intemperance, of lewdness, 
 of gaming, of idleness ? We need no prophet fo 
 announce to us what will be the end of those who 
 become addicted to all, or to any of these sins. We 
 see it in the loss of property, of reputation, of 
 health. We see it in our alms-houses, hospitals, 
 and penitentiaries ; we see it in the poverty and 
 wretchedness of helpless families — in the blasted 
 hopes of young men, once of high promise — ^in the 
 shame and grief of broken-hearted parents. Does 
 not God thus, in the dispensations of his Provi- 
 dence, as distinctly pronounce that his curse rests 
 on such as do these things, as if we heard a voice 
 coming from Heaven saying — " Woe, woe to the in- 
 
JAMES C A R N A II A N , D . D . 65 
 
 fatuated young man who yields liimself to the gratifi- 
 cation of his sensual appetites and passions." Yet 
 these are the persons who are avowedly seeking plea- 
 sure, saying to each other, in all the gaiety of their 
 hearts — " Come, fellows, let us crown ourselves 
 with rose-buds ere they be withered. Let no 
 flower of the spring pass away — let us drink the 
 cup of pleasure, and give care and sorrow to the 
 winds."* Thus far all is well. But let it be re- 
 membered that the profane jest and licentious song 
 is the prelude to pain, and lamentation, and woe. 
 
 You may say you will enjoy the pleasures of 
 youthful folly, and in mature age you will become 
 soher-mmded. Let me entreat you to recollect that 
 mysterious and powerful principle of your nature 
 — habit — habit. It has been aptly called a second 
 nature. Ihe Etliiopian can cliange Ms sTcin^ and 
 the leojpard Ms spots ^ as soon as tliey tvlio are accus- 
 tomed to do evil can learn to do ivell. And, if through 
 the sovereign grace of God, a change in your char- 
 acter should take place in future life, your repent- 
 ance will not prevent many of the consequences of 
 your early folly. It will not restore the opportu- 
 nities of improvement lost in idleness. It will not 
 replace your wasted property, rej^air your broken 
 constitution, or prevent a premature death occa- 
 sioned by youthful excesses. You will carry with 
 you to the grave the scars of the wounds received 
 in the service of Satan, as a warning to others not 
 to follow your example. 
 
 • Logan. 
 
66 THE PEI^^CETON PTJLPIT. 
 
 Thus far we have spoken of such sins as are 
 generally punished in this life. First, because we 
 wished to have something visible and tangible. 
 . We wished to show young men, by examples daily 
 presented, that those who indulge in such practices 
 are sinning against their own souls — bringing on 
 themselves, even in this life, certain ruin. Secondly, 
 because we need the aid of motives drawn from 
 self-interest as well as from duty, to restrain men 
 from sins suljversive of the order and peace of so- 
 ciety, and ruinous to themselves. We have not 
 distinctly pointed out the true source of the malady, 
 nor the only eifectual means of restoring men to a 
 sound and sane state of mind. 
 
 The real cause of the delusion under which men 
 labor on the subject of duty, lies in the heart — in 
 its alienations from God, the source and pattern of 
 moral excellence. Men do not naturally love God, 
 and regard his authority as supreme. This is the 
 prolific fountain of all the sins which men commit. 
 To remove this malady which lies deep within, 
 there is no effectual remedy except that which 
 God, in sovereign mercy, has provided. Considera- 
 tions of self-interest and a regard to the happiness 
 of others may induce men to abstain from the com- 
 mission of gross sins, and to do many things highly 
 laudable and beneficial to mankind. And these 
 motives are not omitted in the Bible, and ought 
 not to be neglected by the ministers of the gospel ; 
 but these are not the chief means on which we 
 should rely to restore men to their right mind, and 
 to raise them from their moral degradation. 
 
JAMES C A UN All AN, D.D. 67 
 
 To tlie question, Wherewitlial shall a young 
 man cleanse Ms tvay ? the Psalmist gives the true 
 answer — By taking lieed thereto according to thy 
 Word; that is, by making the Word of God the 
 rule of his conduct. This will enlighten his mind 
 in the knowledge of duty, and dispel the delu- 
 sions which lead many young men astray. Here we 
 are tau^-ht what are the attributes and character 
 of the great God, the relation which we bear to him 
 as creatures and sinners, what provision he has 
 made for our redemj^tion from sin and its con- 
 sequences, what we must do to be partakers of 
 this salvation. Here is a perfect rule of moral 
 duty placed before us, and here are motives calcu- 
 lated to touch the heart and conscience. In this 
 book also we have the promise of that aid, without 
 which all human means, to cleanse the soul from sin, 
 are hopeless ; and we are taught how that aid is to 
 be obtained, namely, by prayer to the Father of 
 Mercies for the gift of the Holy Spirit. 
 
 If this holy book were diligently studied, and 
 its truths believed, how many errors would it 
 remove from the minds of young men ! If its pre- 
 cepts were j^ractised, from how much wretchedness 
 and sorrow would it save them in this w^orld, 
 and with what bright hopes would it inspire them 
 on entering on that which is to come ! But see, in 
 the indifference and neglect, not to say the con- 
 tempt, wdth which too many young men treat this 
 precious book, the highest proof of their folly and 
 madness. The grand means which God has pro- 
 vided and appointed to heal the diseases of their 
 
68 THE PRINCETON PULPIT. 
 
 minds — to purify their hearts — to guide their steps 
 in the slippery paths of youth, to secure their 
 happiness in this world and in the next, is despised 
 and neglected ! The book which informs you that 
 God gave his only begotten Son to die for your 
 salvation is thrown aside, and novels and romances, 
 trash calculated to corrupt your minds and inflame 
 your passions, already too ardent, are sought and 
 read with eagerness. If any such hear me, I pray 
 God to give you a better mind — to teach you that 
 both your interest and your duty require you to 
 take heed to your ways according to tlie Word of 
 God. 
 
 Young Genttemen of the Senior Class : 
 
 To what I have already addressed to you in 
 common with others of the same age, I have only 
 a few words to add. 
 
 Permit me to remark, that if at any period of 
 your lives you need the exercise of a sound and 
 sane mind, it is now in the circumstances in which 
 you stand. Having finished your academical 
 studies, you are now to go forth into the world, 
 and to be ex2:)osed to many trials and temptations. 
 
 I take it for granted that none of you, after the 
 advantages which you have enjoyed, will bury 
 your talents ; that you will select some useful 
 employment or profession, and will pursue it with 
 diligence. The selection of a profession or occupa- 
 tion is one of the most important acts in the life of 
 man. On a judicious choice in this matter, your 
 success and happiness during life greatly depend. 
 In this point many fatal mistakes are made. We 
 
JAMES CAKNAIIAlSr, D.D. 69 
 
 have known young men wlio had talents well 
 adapted to a particular calling, and who, through 
 pride, ambition, or the desire of wealth, selected 
 another for which they were not qualified ; and 
 disappointment, mortification, and disgrace were 
 the consequence. 
 
 In making your selection will you not need the 
 exercise of a sober, discreet, and sound mind ? 
 And in deciding to what de23artment of business 
 you shall devote your lives, many circumstances 
 are to be taken into view. Can this be done 
 rashly, without thought and sober reflection ? 
 
 Let me tell you, that it is not always what busi- 
 ness or profession is likely to be the most profit- 
 able or honorable, that ought to determine your 
 choice — but rather in what dej^artment you can be 
 the most useful and answer the great end for which 
 you were made, namely, to " glorify God and to 
 enjoy him forever." The young man, who leaves 
 out of view this important consideration, errs in the 
 very commencement of his career. 
 
 On this subject let me also remark, that a young 
 man ought not to delay long, before he decides 
 what shall be the main business of his future life. 
 "We have known educated young men, who spent 
 years in doubt what they should do ; and the effect of 
 this indecision was always injurious to their char- 
 acter and success in life. I have often been asked 
 the question, whether a young man, who has select- 
 ed his profession, should commence studies prepar- 
 atory to that profession immediately on lea\ang 
 college, or should devote a year or two to general 
 
70 THE PKINCETOI^^ PULPIT. 
 
 reading and improvement. My past observations 
 would lead me to say, commence your professional 
 studies as soon as practicable. 1 have seldom seen 
 mucb improvement made by private desultory 
 reading. Spend tlie longer time in preparation for 
 your profession, and fill up your hours of relaxation 
 with collateral reading. This course will tend to 
 bring all you read or observe to bear on the great 
 business before you, and enable you to collect mate- 
 rials from all quarters conducive to your main 
 object. 
 
 In the preceding discourse, I have pointed out 
 some of the rocks on which many precious youths 
 have been lost ; and I beseech you, by all your 
 hopes in time and eternity, not to approach those 
 coasts whitened with the bones of thousands. 
 Your fate wdll be similar to that of those who have 
 gone before you. Such is the wise and just ap- 
 pointment of the Author of our being, that from 
 the penalty of his wise and immutable laws there 
 is no escape. 
 
 From marking the course of many young men, I 
 am led to the firm oj^inion that more fiiil to answer 
 the expectation of their parents and friends from 
 the want of moral character than from the want 
 of talents. And did the occasion permit, we could 
 prove from the nature of things as well as from a 
 detail of facts, that this must be so. 
 
 Independent of the influence of regular habits 
 on your success in life, sound principles and pure 
 morals ought, on their own account, to be sought 
 and cherished. The chief dignity and glory of 
 
JAMES CARNAIIAN, D.D. 71 
 
 man consists not so mucTi in tlie extent of his 
 knowledge, tlie vigor of his intellect, and the 
 splendor of his achievements, as in the integrity of 
 his heart, the purity of his morals, and in his para- 
 mount regard to the claims of duty. The most 
 malignant and odious being in the universe may 
 have vast intellectual powers, and may excite our 
 admiration and terror, but he cannot inspire us 
 with confidence and love. But the good man who 
 aims to do what is right — who employs his talents, 
 whether great or small, in faithfully performing 
 the duties arising from the various relations of life, 
 "is the noblest work of God." 
 
 Beware, my young friends, of imbibing that 
 erroneous opinion, confidently asserted and zea- 
 lously propagated by men destitute of moral prin- 
 ciple, that wildness, eccentricity, and licentious 
 manners in youth, is an evidence of genius and of 
 high promise in future life — that the government 
 of the passions and a regard to the rules of moral 
 order is a proof of dulness and insignificance. It is 
 false, abominably false. That some men of splen- 
 did talents, who were profligate in youth, have 
 risen to high distinction in after life, is freely ad- 
 mitted. But their early excesses were no indica- 
 tion of their future greatness; their dissipation 
 retarded rather than hastened their elevation. 
 
 Where is the wretch so stupid, so brainless, that 
 he cannot curse, and drink, and game, and give full 
 scope to every low, sensual passion ? And do 
 young men hope that by imitating the vices of great 
 men, they also are to become great ? Bather let 
 
72 THE PRINCETON PULPIT. 
 
 them expect by such means to sink to a level with 
 the lowest and meanest of our race. 
 
 Young men, be sober-minded. At this interesting 
 period of life, act prudently, act wisely. Kemem- 
 ber you are now sowing the seed of the future har- 
 vest — it may be precious grain to be gathered in 
 due season into the granary above, or it may be 
 tares to be burnt with unquenchable fire. As ra- 
 tional and moral beings you are accountable to God 
 for your conduct ; and if you would secure his favor 
 and rise in the beauties of holiness to the true 
 dignity of your nature, you must rej^ent of your 
 sins, and believe in the Lord Jesus Christ, who is 
 exalted at the right hand of God, to give repent- 
 ance and remission of sins. The gospel method of 
 making men good, and holy, and fit for heaven, 
 far excels every other. It is adapted to the sinful 
 condition of man — suited to heal the diseases of 
 the mind and of the heart. The belief of the doc- 
 trines, and the practice of the precej^ts of the Gos- 
 pel, is the only effectual means of enabling a young 
 man to cleanse his way, to escape the pollutions of 
 the world, and to prepare for heaven. Take this 
 Gospel as the rule of your life, the foundation of 
 your hopes, and the charter of your immortal in- 
 heritance. Did I know that you all had made your 
 peace with God, through our Lord Jesus Christ, I 
 could bid you adieu with a heart full of joyful 
 hopes resj)ecting your future welfare. Then what- 
 ever ills may befall you in life, your eternal well- 
 being is secure. Once more I say, Young men, he 
 sober-minded ', and, in the sincerity of your hearts, 
 
JAMES CARNAIIAN, D.D. 73 
 
 let eacli one, addressing liis Father in Heaven, say — 
 Fatlier, from tins time wilt not tliou be tlie guide 
 of my youtli ? The Lord hear your prayer, and 
 bless you. Amen. 
 
FAITH IN CHRIST THE SOURCE OF LIFE. 
 
 BY 
 
 THE REV. CHARLES HODGE, D.D., 
 
 PROFE8S0E OF EXEGETICAL AKD DIDACTIC TIIKOLOGT. 
 
 " The life which I now live in the flesh I live by the faith of the Son 
 of God, who loved me and gave himself for me." — Galatians ii. 20. 
 
 The cliurclies in Galatia were founded by tlie 
 Apostle Paul. He had ai:)peared among tliem in 
 mucli weakness. There was something either in 
 his personal appearance, or in his external circum- 
 stances, which tended to excite contempt. But 
 the Galatian converts did not on that account I'e- 
 ject him, but received him as an angel of God, and 
 even as Christ Jesus. This devotion to him, and 
 to the gospel which he preached, was very short- 
 lived. He begins his epistle to them by expressing 
 his astonishment that they had so soon turned unto 
 another gospel. It is plain from the course of his 
 argument, that this apostacy was Judaism. The 
 Galatians had been induced to live after the man- 
 ner of the Jews, to consider circumcision and kee-p- 
 ing the law necessary to salvation. Paul's object 
 is to convince them that this apostacy, if persisted 
 in, must be fatal. There are but two methods of 
 salvation — the one by the law, the other by grace 
 — the one by works, the other by faith. These 
 
CHARLES HODGE, D.D. 75 
 
 metliods are perfectly incompati])le. lliey can- 
 not be combined. The adoption of tlie one 
 is tlie rejection of tlie otlier. Salvation must be 
 wholly by works, or entirely l)y grace. Paul, 
 therefore, says :— " I testify to every man that is 
 circumcised, that he is a debtor to do the whole 
 law. Christ is become of no effect to you ; who- 
 soever of you are justified by the law, ye are fallen 
 from grace." By adopting the legal, you have re- 
 jected the gracious method of justification. It was 
 his deep conviction, both from the revelation of 
 God, and his own experience, that the law, in none 
 of its forms, could give life. Neither the Mosaic in- 
 stitutions nor the decalogue, neither ritualism nor 
 morality could avail to restore sinners from death 
 to the life of God, and life with God. The law, he 
 argues, cannot free us from condemnation, because 
 we are sinners, and it is the very province of the 
 law to condemn sin. How can we be justified by 
 that which condemns ? Neither can the law give 
 spiritual life. It can only present the form of 
 knowledge and truth. It cannot change the heart. 
 On the contrary, it exasperates its opposition by 
 the extent of its inexorable demands, so that it 
 slays, instead of giving life. Paul says, he found 
 the law which was ordained unto life, to be unto 
 death. What the law could not do, in that it was 
 weak through the flesh, God has accomplished by 
 the gospel. He has set forth his Son as the author 
 of life, as the redeemer from judicial deatli, and tlie 
 giver of inward spiritual life. There are two in- 
 dispensable conditions on which our interest in his 
 
7G the PRINCETON PULPIT. 
 
 salvation is suspended. The one is, the renuncia- 
 tion of the law, or of the legal method of salvation ; 
 and the other is, union with Christ, so that we be- 
 come partakers of the merit of his death, and the 
 virtue of his life. I am dead to the law, says the 
 Apostle, I am crucified with Christ, nevertheless, I 
 live ; yet not I, but Christ liveth in me ; and the 
 life which I now live in the flesh, I live by the faith 
 in the Son of God, who loved me and gave himself 
 for me. 
 
 The doctrine of this passage is, that faith of 
 Christ is the necessary condition and source of 
 spiritual life. 
 
 By faith of Christ is not meant the faith which 
 Christ had. The faith which is the life of the soul, 
 is not mere belief of the existence of God, and of 
 those great moral and religious truths which are 
 the foundation of all religion. Those who would 
 bring revelation down to the level of philosophy, 
 and resolve all its doctrines into truths of the rea- 
 son, tell us that all the Bible means when it says 
 we are saved by faith and not by works is, that 
 confidence in God, and in moral and religious 
 truth, is not only the source of virtue, but the test 
 of character. What a man is, is determined more 
 by this habitual state of mind, than by individual 
 and outward acts. When it is said, Al^raham was 
 justified by fjxith, they would have us understand 
 that it was his inward posture of mind toward God 
 that was approved and recognised as the source of 
 all true piety. Here, as in most other cases, error 
 is negative. The evil lies not in what is afiirmed. 
 
CHARLES IIODGE, D.D. 77 
 
 but ill what is denied. It is ti'ue that faith in God 
 is the principle of all religion ; but it is far from 
 being true that this is the whole import of the 
 scripture doctrine of salvation by faith. It is cha- 
 racteristic of the doctrines of the Bible, that they 
 comprehend all that is true in other forms of reli- 
 gion, while they contain a divine element to which 
 their power is due, which is to be found nowhere 
 else. The faith, therefore, by which the Christian 
 lives, is something more than mere faith in God. 
 
 Neither ^oes the faith of Christ, of which our 
 text speaks, mean faith in that unseen world which 
 Christ has revealed. It is, indeed, true that the 
 life of the Christian is regulated by the objects of 
 faith, as distinguished from the objects of sight. 
 It is true that he walks by faith, and not by sight ; 
 that he looks not at the things which are seen, but 
 at the things which are not seen. It is true the 
 Christian has a faith which is the evidence of things 
 not seen, and the substance of the things hoped 
 for. It is true that faith, as the organ of perceiv- 
 ing what neither sense nor reason knows, as 
 the cognition of the things of the Spirit, does 
 regulate the Christian's life, determine his conduct? 
 sustain him in trial, comfort him in affliction, and 
 open for him the perennial fountain of life. 
 Still this is not all the Scriptures teach on this 
 subject; nor is this the doctrine which they mean 
 to inculcate, when they teach that we are saved 
 by faith ; and when they represent faith as the 
 source of spiritual life to the soul. 
 
 Neither is the truth in question either exhausted 
 
Is THE PEINCETON PFLPIT. 
 
 or accurately stated by saying, tlie faith whicli has 
 l;his life-giving power has the whole word of God 
 for its object. It is, indeed, admitted that faith 
 has respect to the whole revelation of God. It re- 
 ceives all his doctrines, bows to all his commands, 
 trembles at his threatenings, and rejoices at his 
 promises. This, however, is not the faith by which 
 the Aj^ostle lived ; or, rather, it is not those acts 
 of f^iith which have the truth of God in general 
 for their object, which gives life to the soul. The 
 , doctrine of the text and of the whole New Testa- 
 ment is, that the soul is saved, that spiritual life is 
 obtained, and supported, by those acts of faith 
 which have Christ for their object. Other things 
 in the Word of God we may not know, and, there- 
 fore, may not consciously believe, but Christ we 
 must know. About other things true Christians 
 may differ ; but they must all agree as to what they 
 believe concerning Christ. He is in such a sense 
 the object of faith, that saving faith consists in re- 
 ceiving and resting on him alone for salvation, as 
 he is offered to us in the gospel. It consists in re- 
 ceiving Christ — i. e., in recognising, acknowledging, 
 accepting, and appropriating him, as he is held 
 forth to us in the Scripture. It includes, therefore, 
 a resting on him alone for salvation — /. <?., for justi- 
 fication, sanctification, and eternal life. 
 
 That this is the true doctrine on the subject is 
 plain, from the common form of expression em- 
 ployed in Scrijiture when the Bible speaks of faith 
 in connection with justification and life. It is not of 
 faith as general confidence in God, nor faith as 
 
CHAELES HODGE, D.D. T9 
 
 assent to divine revelation, but specifically " faith 
 of Clirist," tliat is, faith of whicli Christ is tlie oh-- 
 ject. Thus the Apostle, in the earnest and impor- 
 tant passage whence the text is taken, and in which 
 he condenses the whole substance of the gospel, ' 
 says three times over, that the only method of ob- 
 taining justification and life, is by those acts of I 
 faith which terminate on Christ. In the third 
 chapter of the Epistle to the Romans, from verse 
 21 to the end, where we have another of those 
 condensed exhiljitions of the gospel, the same form 
 of ex]Dression occurs. We are said to be saved by 
 " the faith of Christ." So, too, in that remarkable 
 passage, Phil. iii. 1 — 14, in which he contrasts 
 the two systems — the legal and evangelical — Juda- 
 ism and the gospel, he ascribes the power of the 
 latter to secure justification and life to " the faith 
 of Christ." The same doctrine is taught in all those 
 passages in which we are required to helieve in 
 Ohrist in order to salvation. The specific act 
 which is everywhere declared to be essential, is to 
 believe on the Son of God. He that believeth on 
 the Son, it is said, hath life ; he that believeth not 
 the Son, shall not see life, but the wrath of God 
 abideth on him. The Apostle John insists much 
 on this jDoint. Whosoever believeth that Jesus is 
 the Christ, is born of God. "WTiosoever shall confess 
 that Jesus is the Sou of God, God dwelleth in him, 
 and he in God. Believe in the Lord Jesus Christ 
 and thou shall be saved, is the message which the 
 Gospel brings to every creature. This doctrine is 
 taught, also, by all those passages which declare 
 
80 THE PRINCETON PULPIT. 
 
 Christ to be our life. It is by union with him 
 we live. Our life is hid with Christ in God. It is 
 not we that live, but Christ that liveth in us. The 
 life which we now live in the flesh is by faith of 
 the Son of God. The whole scheme of redemption 
 is founded on this truth. Men are dead in trespass- 
 es and sins. They cannot be delivered from this 
 state by any works or efforts of their own. Neither 
 can they come to God without a mediator. Christ 
 is the only medium of access ; therefore faith in 
 him is the indispensable condition of salvation. 
 Whatever else we may believe, it will avail us 
 nothing unless we exercise faith in Him ; and, 
 therefore, the specific act which sinners are called 
 upon to perform, is to come to Christ ; to look to 
 him ; to flee to him as a refuge ; to lay hold on 
 I him as a helper ; to confide in hun as the propitia- 
 f tion for their sins ; to commit themselves to him 
 as their High Priest. In all these, and in many 
 other ways, are we clearly taught that Christ is 
 the immediate object of that faith which is con- 
 nected with hfe and salvation. This is so plain 
 and so important that our Catechism defines the 
 faith which saves the soul to be that grace, where- 
 by we received rest on Christ alone for salvation, 
 as he is offered to us for salvation. It is not, there- 
 fore, by faith in God as God, nor by faith in divine 
 revelation ; but by faith in Christ, that is, by 
 [those acts of faith w^hich have him for their imme- 
 [diate object, that the soul is freed from condemna- 
 tion, and made partaker of divine life. 
 
 But what is meant by faith in Christ ? AVhat 
 
CHARLES HODGE, D.D. 81 
 
 are those truths concerning* Christ which we are 
 required to believe ? Thanks be to God for the 
 distinctness with which this all-important question 
 is answered in his word. We have that answer 
 summed up in the passage before us. There are 
 three things which we must believe, or our faith is 
 dead, — First, That Christ is the Son of God. 
 Second, That he loves iis. Third, That he gave 
 himself fo)' us. — All these are essential elements in 
 that faith which gives life to the soul. 
 
 First, We must believe that Christ is the Son of 
 God. Both the divinity and incarnation of the 
 object of our faith are included in this expression. 
 The designation. Son of God, is applied in Scrip- 
 ture to the divine nature of Christ, and implies his 
 essentia:l equality with God. God is in such a sense 
 his Father that he is equal with God, of the same 
 nature or substance, possessing the same attributes, 
 bearing the same titles, performing the same works, 
 and entitled to the same conffdence, obedience, and 
 worship. In this light He is set forth as the object 
 of hope in the Old Testament. In this light He 
 exhibited himself when he appeared on earth, 
 teaching in his own name, working miracles by his 
 own power, claiming for himself the love, con- 
 fidence, and obedience due to God alone, asserting 
 his power to save all who come to him, promisii g 
 to raise the dead, and foretelling his coming to 
 judge the world at the last day. These claims 
 were authenticated by the manifestation of the 
 glory of God in his character and life, so that those 
 who were with him beheld his glory as of the only 
 
82 THE PRINCETON PTJLPIT. 
 
 begotten Son of God, and knew He was indeed tlie 
 true God and eternal life. God confirmed these 
 claims by a voice from heaven, saying : " This is my 
 beloved Son in whom I am well pleased ;" by the 
 works which he gave him to do, and by raising him 
 from the dead, thereby proclaiming with power that 
 he was the Son of God. The Aj)ostles received, 
 worshipped, and preached him as the true God. 
 They j^roclaimed themselves and all their fellow- 
 Christians to be the worshippers of Christ, and the 
 great object of their mission (as it is to this day the 
 great end of the ministry) was to bring men to 
 know, worshij^, and obey Christ as God. It is, 
 therefore, one of the essential elements of faith in 
 Christ to believe in his divinity. This, however, 
 necessarily includes faith in his incarnation, because 
 all the designations applied to Christ belong to him 
 as an historical person. Jesus Christ is the name 
 of a person who was born of the Virgin Mary, who 
 suffered under Pontius Pilate, was crucified, dead, 
 and buried, who rose again on the third day, 
 ascended into heaven, and is now seated at the right 
 hand of God. Everything taught concerning Christ, 
 is taught concerning that person. He, that is, the 
 person who was thus born, who thus suftered, died, 
 and rose again, is the Son of God, that is, a divine 
 person. This, of course, supposes that He became 
 flesh and dwelt amono^ us. Faith of the Son of 
 God is, therefore, necessarily faith in the incarna- 
 tion. It is faith in Christ as God manifest in the 
 flesh. This is so prominent and so imjDortant an 
 element in saving faith, that it may be said to in- 
 
CHARLES IIODGE, D.D. 83 
 
 elude all otliers. Hence the Apostle says : " Who- 
 soever believeth that Jesus is the Son of God, God 
 dwelleth in him, and he in God ;" and, " Every 
 spirit that eonfesseth that Jesus Christ is come in 
 the flesh, is of God." That faith, therefore, which 
 has power to give life, has the incarnate God for its 
 object. It contemplates and receives that histori- 
 cal person, Jesus Christ, who was born in Beth- 
 lehem, who lived in Judea, who died on Calvary, as 
 God manifest in the flesh. Any other faith than this 
 is unbelief. To believe hi Christ, is to receive him • 
 in his true character. But to regard him, who is 
 truly God, as a mere creature, is to deny, reject, 
 and to despise him. It is to refuse to recognise 
 him in the very character in which He is presented 
 for our acceptance. If this truth be hid, " it is hid," 
 says the Apostle, " to them that are lost ; in whom 
 the God of this w^orld hath blinded the eyes of 
 them that believe not, lest the light of the glorious 
 gospel of Christ, who is the image of God, should 
 shine unto them. For God, who commanded the 
 light to shine out of darkness, hath shined into our 
 hearts, to give the light of the knowledge of the 
 glory of God in the face of Jesus Christ." Saving 
 fliith, then, is the knowledge of the glory of God 
 in the face of Jesus Christ. It is perceiving and 
 reco«-nising him to be the brightness of the Father's 
 glory, and the express image of his substance. This 
 is that knowledge for which Paul said he was 
 willing to sufter the loss of all things ; and which 
 our blessed Lord himself declared to be eternal 
 life. 
 
84 THE PRINCETOjS^ PULPIT. 
 
 The necessity of faith in tlie divinity and incar- 
 nation of our Lord, to the saving power of faith, is 
 further plain, because a Saviour less than divine, is 
 no Saviour. The blood of no mere man is an ade- 
 quate atonement for the sins of the whole world. 
 The righteousness of no creature is an adequate 
 foundation for the justification of sinners. The 
 assurance of the gift of eternal life is mockery from 
 any other lips than those of God. It is only be- 
 cause Jesus is the Lord of Glory, the Son of God, 
 God manifest in the flesh, that his blood cleanses 
 from all sin, that his righteousness is infinite in 
 value, sufficient to cover the greatest guilt, to hide 
 the greatest deformity, and to secure even for the 
 chief of sinners admission into heaven. The ranks 
 of angels give way to allow any one to enter and 
 ascend, who appears clothed in the righteousness 
 of God. Yes, the righteousness of God ; and any 
 righteousness short of his, would be of no avaiL 
 Faith draws her power to give life to the soul ; to 
 free from the sentence of death ; to speak peace to 
 the troubled conscience only from the divine cha- 
 racter of its object. It is only an almighty, an 
 ever present, an infinite Saviour, who is suited to 
 the exigencies of a ruined immortal. 
 
 It must also be remembered, that it is to the 
 spiritually dead to whom Christ is declared to be 
 the author of life. But no creature is life-giving. 
 It is only He who has life in himself that is able to 
 give life unto others. It is because Christ is God ; 
 because all the fulness of the Godhead dwells in 
 him, that he is the source of spiritual life to us. 
 
C II A K L E S II O D Ct E , D . D . 85 
 
 God only liatli life in himself, and all creatures 
 live in liiin. If, tlierefore, Christ is our life, he 
 must be our God. 
 
 Spiritual life, moreover, supposes divine perfec- 
 tion in the object on which its exercises terminate. 
 It is called the life of God in the soul, not only be- 
 cause God is its source, but also because He is its 
 object. The exercises in which that life consists, or 
 by which it is manifested, must terminate on in- 
 finite excellence. The fear, the admiration, the 
 gratitude, the love, the submission, the devotion, 
 which belong to spiritual life, are raised to the 
 height of religious affections only by the infinitude 
 of their object. It is impossible, therefore, that the- 
 soul can live by the faith of the Son of God, unless 
 it believes him to be divine. It is the exhibition 
 of divine perfection in the person of Jesus Christ, 
 through the power of the Holy Ghost, that calls 
 forth, in the benumbed and lifeless soul, the aspira- 
 tions and outgoings of the spiritual life. It is the 
 glory of God as thus made known, thus softened, 
 and brought down to our apprehension, and re- 
 vealed in its manifold relations to us, that brings 
 us into that communion with the divine nature in 
 Avhich our life consists. Nothing is more clearly 
 taught in Scripture than that Christ is the object 
 of the life of God in the souls of his people. He is 
 the object of their supreme love, of their adoration, 
 of their confidence, of their devotion and ol)edi- 
 ence. The whole New Testament is a hymn of 
 praise to Christ. The whole Church is prostrate at 
 his feet ; and whenever heaven has been opened to 
 
86 TUE PKIjS^CETOiSr PULPIT. 
 
 the eyes of mortals, its inliabitants were seen bow- 
 ing before tlie tlirone of tlie Lamb. To live by 
 faitli of tlie Son of God, therefore, is to live by be- 
 lieving liim to be divine. Tlie feitli wbicli gives 
 life to the soul, is tlie cognition, or spiiitual appre- 
 hension of the glory of God in the person of Jesus 
 Christ. Without this, fiiith is dead, and the soul 
 turns its leaden eye on an eclij^sed sun. 
 
 The second great truth we must believe concern- 
 ing Christ, is his love. It is not enough that we be- 
 lieve he loves others, we must believe that he loves 
 us. Paul said, I live by the faith of the Son of 
 God, who loved me, and gave himself for me. This 
 means, first negatively, that we do not exclude 
 ourselves from the number of those who are the 
 ol:)jects of Christ's love. This is really to reject 
 him as our Saviour, while we admit he may be 
 the Saviour of others. This is a very common 
 form of unbelief. The soul under a sense of sin, 
 is disposed to think there is something peculiar in 
 its case ; something either in the number or the 
 aggravation of its sins, which makes it an excep- 
 tion. It, therefore, does not believe that Christ 
 loves it. It thinks this would be presumptuous, 
 supposing that to be the object of Christ's love 
 , we must be lovely. It forgets the great, salient, 
 / • life-giving truth of the Gospel, that God loves his 
 \ enemies, the ungodly, the j^olluted, and by loving 
 y makes them lovely. Alas ! Did he not love us, 
 \ until we loved him, we should j^erish in our sins. 
 . The love of God is the love of a father — it has a 
 hidden source, and is not founded on the charac- 
 
CHARLES nODGE,D.D. 87 
 
 ter of its objects. It is unbelief, therefore, liow- 
 ever it may assume the specious garb of humility, 
 to exclude om'selves from the number of those 
 whom Christ loves. So long as we do this we 
 exclude ourselves from His salvation. The secpnd 
 or positive aspect of the truth contained in this 
 part of our text is, that we must appropriate to 
 'ourselves, personally and individually, the general 
 assurance and promise of the love of Christ. Faitb 
 is not mere assent to the proposition that God is 
 merciful ; but trust in his mercy to us. It is not 
 a mere assent to th.e truth that Christ loved sinners ; 
 but it is the appropriation of his love to ourselves ; 
 a believing tliat be loves us. It is not necessary in 
 order to justify this appropriation, that there 
 sliould be any special revelation that we, as dis- 
 tinguished from others, are the objects of Divine 
 love. The general declaration is made that God 
 is merciful. The general promise is made that be 
 will receive all who come to him through Christ. 
 To appropriate these general declarations, is to 
 believe that tbey are true, not in relation to others 
 merely, but to us. We credit the assurance of 
 God's love ; we look up to him as prop)itious ; we 
 say to bim. Our Father ; we regard him not as an 
 enemy, but as a friend, for Christ's sake. This is 
 faith. It is precisely because it is so hard to be- 
 lieve that, notwithstanding our unworthiness, God 
 loves us, that the Scriptures are so full of assur- 
 ances of his mercy, and that so many illustrations 
 are employed to set fortb the greatness and free- 
 ness of his love. God, it is said, hath commended 
 
88 THE PEINCETON PULPIT. 
 
 his love towards us, in tliat wliile we were yet 
 sinners, Clirist died for us. Herein is love, not 
 that we loved God, but that he loved us, and sent 
 his Son to be the propitiation for our sins. This 
 also is the reason why the way in which God can 
 be just and yet justify the ungodly is so distinctly 
 set forth in His word ; and why we are exhorted 
 to come with boldness to the throne of grace ; to 
 draw nigh with confidence ; to come with even the 
 full assurance of faith. This, too, is the reason 
 why we are reproved for doubting the mercy of 
 God, for distrusting his promises, or questioning 
 his love. And this is the reason why such bless- 
 ings are pronounced on those who trust in the 
 Lord. This again is faith. Trusting in the Lord, 
 is believing. It is taking him at his word, when 
 he offers us his mercy, and assures us of his love. 
 There are all degrees of this faith. It may be 
 exercised with an assurance which excludes all 
 doubt, or with a diffidence which scarcely admits 
 of hope. It may alternate with doubt, and 
 be attended with many misgivings. Still the 
 thing believed is, that Christ loves us. "When, 
 says Calvin, the least drop of faith is instilled into 
 our minds, we begin to see the serene and placid 
 face of our reconciled Father, dimly and afar it 
 may be, but still it is seen. A man in a dungeon 
 may have no light but through a crevice. Oh ! 
 how different is this from the bright light of day. 
 It is, however, light. Thus the feeblest faith and 
 the strongest assurance differ m degree, and not in 
 their nature or their object. The love of God in 
 
CHAP. LES IIODaE, D.D. 89 
 
 Christ is tlie object of botli. The one sees that 
 love glancing through the clouds, or stealing 
 through a crevice ; the other sees it as the sun at 
 noon. Still the thino^ seen, and the act of seeinor 
 are in both cases the same. 
 
 Faith in Christ, therefore, includes faith in his 
 love towards us. The life of the soul consists in 
 communion with God. There can be no commu- 
 nion with God, without faith in his love. We must 
 believe that he loves us, in order that we should 
 love him. We love God, says the Apostle, because 
 he first loved us. His love is the liijht and heat 
 w^hich calls our love into being and exercise ; and 
 the faith w^hich gives life to the soul, must include 
 the belief that Christ loves us. This is the fountain 
 of life. That a being so exalted and glorious should 
 love us, who are so unworthy and worthless, fills 
 the soul with wonder and gratitude. It calls forth 
 all its activity, and fills it with joy unspeakable and 
 full of glory. 
 
 The third element included in the life-^ivino^ 
 faith of which the Aj)ostle sj)eaks, is believing that 
 Christ gave himself for us, i. e.^ that he died for 
 us. This again includes two things — first, faith 
 in his vicarious death as an atonement for sin ; and 
 second, faith in his death as a propitiation for our 
 own indi\'idual or personal sins. Both of these are 
 necessary. We must believe not only that Christ 
 has made an atonement for sm ; but that he died 
 for US, that our sins are washed away in his blood. 
 Tliis is plain, because faith in Christ is the act of 
 7 
 
90 THE PEINCETOl^ PULPIT. 
 
 receiving and resting on liim, as lie is offered in the 
 gospel, for our own personal salvation. 
 
 It cannot be necessary to prove before a Cliistian 
 audience, that Christ is set forth in the gospel as a 
 propitiation for sin, and that faith in him involves 
 the receiving and resting upon him in. that charac- 
 ter. The Bible clearly teaches on this subject — 
 first, in general terms, that Christ died for us ; se- 
 condly, that the design of his death was to reconcile 
 us to God ; thirdly, that his death accomplishes 
 this design, because it was a sacrifice, or propitiation 
 for sin, or because he bore our sins in his own body 
 on the tree ; fourthly, that we are, therefore, justi- 
 fied meritoriously, not by works, but by the blood 
 or righteousness of Christ, and, instrumentally, by 
 faith. These are plain Scriptural doctrines. Faith 
 in Christ, therefore, must include the belief of these 
 doctrines. To regard him merely as a teacher, or 
 merely as a sovereign, or merely as the means by 
 which a new and divine element has l)een intro- 
 duced into our nature, is to reject him as a sacrifice 
 for sin. It is to refuse to be saved by his blood. 
 It is not, however, sufficient that we should believe 
 the doctrine of atonement. This angels believe ; 
 this devils believe ; this millions of our race 
 believe, who yet die in their sins. It is not 
 enough that we should stand as wondering 
 spectators round the cross of Lord of Glory. 
 It is not enough that we should see others 
 wash their robes and make them white in 
 the blood of the Lamb ; we must appropriate the 
 merit of his death ; we must lay our hand on the 
 
CHARLES HODGE, D . D . 9 
 
 head of tlie victim; we must have his blood 
 sprinkled on our own conscience ; we must accept 
 him as the propitiation of our sins, and believe 
 that God for his sake, is reconciled to us. This is 
 faith indeed ! To believe that God, for Christ's 
 sake, is propitious ; that he loves us ; that he 
 regards us as his children, and has adopted us as 
 his sons and daughters. Until we thus take Christ 
 for our own, we have nothing wherewith to satisfy 
 the demands of the law, or claims of justice; 
 nothing wherewith we can appease a guilty con- 
 science. But being justified by faith, we have 
 peace with God and rejoice in hope of his glory. 
 
 He, then, that has the faith by which Paul lived, 
 is able to say with Paul, I believe Jesus is the Son 
 of God, or God manifest in the flesh. I believe he 
 loves me, and gave himself for me. However weak 
 and faltering our faith may be, if we have any sav- 
 ing faith at all, this is what we believe. 
 
 If such be the doctrine of the text and of the 
 Scriptures, it answers two most important ques- 
 tions, — First, it tells the anxious inquirer definitely 
 what he must do to be saved. There are times of 
 exigency in every man's experience — times in which 
 the question, what we must do to be saved, must 
 be answered without delay, and with clearness and 
 authority. It is well to have the answer which 
 God has given to this question graven on the palms 
 of our hands. We shall need to read it sometimes 
 when our sight is very dim. In such seasons of 
 emergency, the soul is apt to get confused, and its 
 vision wandering and indistinct. The mind becomes 
 
92 THE PRINCETON PULPIT. 
 
 distracted in tlie multitude of its thoughts ; it looks 
 inward to determine tlie character of its own ex- 
 perience ; it looks outward, and with unsteady eye 
 gazes all around for some source of help. The voice 
 of the Son of God on the cross is : Look unto me. 
 The voice of his messengers is : Believe in the Lord 
 Jesus Christ and thou shalt be saved. This is much. 
 But still the anxious question arises — What must I 
 believe ? Here comes the definite answer from the 
 / lips of Paul : Believe that Jesus is the Son of God 
 \ -^that he loves you — that he gave himself for you. 
 
 <If you believe this, you will also believe that God 
 for Christ's sake is reconciled to you ; that your 
 sins are forgiven ; that Christ is made of God unto 
 you wisdom, righteousness, sanctification, and re- 
 demption. Do not then, in these hours of trial, 
 allow yourself to be careful and troubled about 
 many things. This is the one thing needful. If 
 you thus believe, your salvation is secure. But 
 must I not be born again in order to enter into the 
 kingdom of heaven ? Certainly you must. Regene- 
 ration, however, is something to be experienced. 
 Beheving is something to be done. The former is 
 God's work — the latter is yours. Do your part, 
 and you will find that His is already done. When 
 Christ said to the man with the withered arm: 
 Stretch forth thy hand ; he did not wait to ascer- 
 tain whether his arm was restored before he obey- 
 ed, although stretching forth his hand pre-supposed 
 the restoration of his limb. Let not the man, 
 therefore, who is seeking his salvation, be deluded 
 by a false philosophy, and because faith implies re- 
 
CIIAKLES IIODGE, D.D. 93 
 
 generation, refuse to believe nntil lie knows lie is 
 regenerated. His simple duty is to believe tliat 
 Jesus is the Son of God ; tliat he loved us, and died 
 for us ; and that God for his sake is reconciled to 
 us. Let him do this and he will find peace, love, i 
 joy, wonder, gratitude and devotion filling his ' 
 heart and controlling his hfe. 
 
 The second question answered by the doctrine of 
 the text is : How the divine life in the soul of the 
 believer is to be sustained and invigorated. Paul 
 said the life which he lived, he lived by faith in the 
 Son of God, who loved him, and gave himself for 
 him. The clearer the views we can attain of the 
 divine glory of the Redeemer, the deeper our sense 
 of his love, and the stronger our assurance that he 
 gave himself for us, the more of spiritual life shall 
 we have ; the more of love, reverence, and zeal ; 
 the more humility, peace, and joy ; and the more 
 strength to do and suffer in the cause of Christ. 
 We should then regard all things but loss for the 
 excellency of the knowledge of Christ Jesus our 
 Lord. We should glory even in infirmities and 
 afflictions, that His strength might be the more 
 manifested in our weakness. Death would bear a 
 smilino- aspect, for we should have a constant de- 
 sire to depart and be with Christ. 
 
 The great duty then inculcated in the text is to 
 look away from ourselves, and to look only unto 
 Christ ; to contemplate him as God manifested in 
 the flesh, loving us, and giving himself for us. The 
 text calls upon us to suppress all doubts of his love 
 as the suggestions of an evil heart of unbelief; to 
 
94 THE PRINCETON PULPIT. 
 
 cherisli tlie assurance tliat nothing can separate us 
 from him ; that having loved us while enemies, and 
 died for us while sinners, he will love us unto the 
 end. Believing this, we shall not only have perfect 
 peace, but we shall feel that the entire devotion of 
 our heart and life is the only return we can make 
 for the love of Christ which passes knowledge. 
 
 " Now, unto him that loved us, and washed us 
 from our sins in his blood, and hath made us kings 
 and priests unto God and his Father, to him be 
 glory and dominion for ever and ever. Amen." 
 
FILIAL PIETY. 
 
 THE REV. JOHN MACLEAN, D.D., 
 
 TICE-PRESIDENT OF THE COLLEGE OF NEW JERSEY. 
 
 Proverbs xxiii. 2.5.—" Thy father and thy mother shall be glad ; and she 
 that bare thee shall rejoice." 
 
 In urging youtli to walk in the paths of virtue 
 and of piety, we cannot err in appealing to their 
 filial feelings, inasmuch as the sacred writers often 
 do this very thing. Ees23ect and love for parents 
 are not, indeed, the motives which operate with the 
 greatest force uj)on minds renewed by the Spirit 
 of grace and truth. With such the most powerful 
 incentives to action are those which derive their 
 origin from the relation we sustain to God, the 
 author of life and of salvation. Those who have 
 a right apprehension of this relation, and feel most 
 deeply the obligations resulting from it, are also 
 the very persons who appreciate most correctly 
 their indebtedness to parental love and tenderness. 
 For, in their case, not only do the instinctive feel- 
 ings of love and reverence for father and for 
 mother render us desirous to please and honour those 
 from whom we are sprung, but this very desire is 
 strengthened and even increased by the still strong- 
 er one, to please and honour God, who constituted 
 that most intimate and tender relation between 
 
96 THE PRIlSrCETON PULPIT. 
 
 parents and cliildren ; and wlio has enjoined, in 
 terms most explicit, tlie fall discharge of all filial 
 obligations, promising Lis favor to the obedient, 
 and denouncing his judgments against the rebel- 
 lious. 
 
 Upon these promises and threatenings, it is not 
 my purpose at present to insist, nor shall I dwell 
 upon your obligations; but, assuming that my 
 youthful hearers, notwithstanding any aberrations 
 of which they may be conscious, are not altogether 
 strangers to the joy experienced by those whose 
 constant aim it is to honour and to please their pa- 
 rents, I shall proceed to point out the course you 
 must each one pursue, in order that it may be said 
 to you in the words of our text, " Thy father and 
 thy mother shall be glad, and she that bare thee 
 shall rejoice." 
 
 x\nd here, let me request you to call to mind the 
 feelings with which you left your homes for this 
 the place of your education. When, with faltering 
 voice, your father bade you '■^ farewell^'^ and unable 
 it may be to express herself in words, your mother 
 bathed your cheek with tears, and in silence parted 
 from the son of her love and of her prayers, did it 
 then enter your mind, that you could ever pursue 
 any course that would give pain to that mother's 
 breast, or disappoint the fond hopes of that kind 
 father ? Your purpose, I venture to say, as far as 
 any was formed, was to be a diligent and orderly 
 student, and to repay your father and your mother's 
 love by a strict attention to their advice, and by a 
 virtuous and exemplary deportment. You then 
 
JOUN MACLEAN, D.D. 97 
 
 felt tliat if you could only meet tlieir wishes and 
 exi:>ectations, your liigliest ambition would be satis- 
 fied. Were not tliese feelings riglit, and pure, and 
 honourable ? Would you desire to be freed from 
 tliem ? Would you not rather that they should 
 remain in their full force, and act as a constant sti- 
 mulant to the performance of duty ? Cherish then 
 these feelings, my young friends. Both their direct 
 and indirect influence can be none other than good 
 and pleasant. The very desire to do right is itself 
 a source of pleasure to the mind in which such de- 
 sire exists ; and the pleasure given to others by our 
 correct deportment becomes, in turn, a gratification 
 to ourselves. As it respects some of you, I know 
 that your beloved parents are numbered with the 
 dead. To you I would say, let reverence for their 
 memory prompt you to pursue that course which 
 you know would have gladdened their hearts, had 
 they lived to be witnesses of your conduct. 
 
 It is sometimes the case, that an ingenuous 
 youth is more influenced by the recollection of the 
 counsels of a departed father or mother, than he 
 would have been by the same counsels, had that 
 father or mother not been taken from him ; and 
 never, in any circumstances, does filial piety appear 
 more lovely and attractive. Whatever, then, be 
 your present relations to your parents — whether 
 they are still spared to watch over your steps and 
 to guide you in the paths of virtue and piety by 
 their example and counsels, or whether they have 
 one or both been removed to the world of spirits — • 
 let me, I pray, have your attention while I endea- 
 
98 THE PRINCETON PULPIT. 
 
 vour to set before you tlie course to be pursued by 
 tliose wlio would be tlieir parents' joy and crown of 
 rejoicing. 
 
 In attempting tliis, I sliall follow tbe footsteps 
 of the inspired author of our text, and, with him, 
 I exhort you : 
 
 I. To cultivate a reverence for parental counsels 
 and authority. " My son," says Solomon, " hear the 
 instruction of thy father, and forsake not the law 
 of thy mother." — Proverbs i. 8. Again he says, 
 " Hearken unto thy father that begat thee, and de- 
 spise not thy mother when she is old." — Proverbs 
 xxiii. 22. 
 
 The remarks of Bishop Patrick on the first of 
 these passages are worthy of serious thought — 
 "Not only hearken to thy father, when he teaches 
 thee to fear God, but let thy mother's commands 
 be a law unto thee, especially when she bids thee 
 to observe the directions of thy j^ublic instructors. 
 The second step to wisdom is, next to God, to bear 
 great reverence to parents, both natural and spirit- 
 ual ; to God's ministers, to whom if children be not 
 bred to give a great regard, they seldom prove vir- 
 tuous. It is very observable how much human 
 laws differ from the divine ; the former only pro- 
 adding that due regard be given by children to 
 their fathers, but taking no notice of their mothers, 
 .... but God, in his laws, takes care to pre- 
 serve a just reverence both to father and mother 
 equally." 
 
 The laws of thy mother are her admonitions and 
 pious instructions ; and these are not to be disre- 
 
JOHN MACLEAN, D.D. 99 
 
 gcarded, even when tlie infirmity of age is added to 
 that of sex. Hearken unto thy father, and despise 
 not thy mother when she is okl, or because she is 
 okl. Cherish a reverence for her authority, and 
 never be unmindful of her lessons. At no period 
 of their lives are young persons so tempted to dis- 
 regard parental authority, as when they are passing 
 from boyhood to manhood. At this time of life, 
 they are often more disposed to think and act for 
 themselves, without regard to the opinions and 
 wishes of their parents, than even in later life. 
 They are desirous to be thought independent, and 
 capable of directing themselves. They become im- 
 patient of restraint, and the advice even of parents 
 whom they both reverence and love is often irk- 
 some ; and is regarded as the offspring of an unrea- 
 sonable anxiety, or, of an unfounded distrust of 
 their capacity to take care of themselves : and the 
 greater the earnestness of parents in urging their 
 \news, the greater often is the resistance on the part 
 of those for whose benefit all this earnestness is em- 
 ployed. They deem it manly to disregard advice, 
 and to act without it, when, if they would only 
 reflect as they ought, they would perceive, that it is 
 the lack of a manly spirit that leads them to pur- 
 sue the course they do. It is because they have 
 not attained to the stature of full grown men, that 
 they are so sensitive as to every thing that seems 
 to call their manhood into question. None are so 
 jealous of theii* claims, as those whose claims are 
 most questionable. Show then your claim to be 
 considered youths of a truly noble and independ- 
 
100 THE PRINCETON PULPIT. 
 
 ent spirit, by always daring to do what is riglit, 
 and by always yielding due obedience to parental 
 commands. I say due obedience, for this obedience 
 so obligatory is yet subordinate to that which you 
 owe to God, and should it unhappily be the case, 
 that the instructions and commands of your j^arents 
 are in conflict with those of your Heavenly Father, 
 He who is the Parent of us all has the first and 
 highest claim to your obedience ; yet in obeying 
 God, in the circumstances supposed, you should at 
 the same time show, that nothing short of the 
 strongest conviction of duty would, ever, have in- 
 duced you to act contrary to parental instructions. 
 And you should be, in all other things, most care- 
 ful to consult their feelings, aud give them all 
 possible evidence, that it is from no want of due 
 respect for their counsels or authority, that, con- 
 trary to their desires, you have yielded to what 
 you deem higher and more imperative obligations ; 
 and that it is really your delight to submit to their 
 authority and to meet their wishes to the utmost of 
 your power. Yes, my young friends, never be will- 
 ing to give your parents one moment's pain, or even 
 to occasion them one moment's anxiety, that you 
 can at all prevent. Of these they have abundant , 
 and that too on your account. Add not to their 
 burdens, much less to their sorrows. 
 . You may sometimes think, that they are unduly 
 anxious resj)ecting you ; and they give both them- 
 selves and you unnecessary trouble, in warning and 
 counselling you, in telling you of their fears and 
 of your dangers. Grant, my young friends, that a 
 
JOHN MACLEAN, D.D. 101 
 
 motlier's weakness does sometimes betray itself in 
 this way ; but surely it is not a weakness to be de- 
 spised. Its very source is tliat mother's attachment 
 to the son of her love. She has seen the sons of 
 other mothers, as affectionate and tender as herself, 
 decline, step by step, from the paths of piety and 
 vii'tue, until they have become profligates and out- 
 casts; and the very thought that her son might 
 possibly become like one of them, prompts her to 
 those expressions of her fears, that sometimes prove 
 so annoying to self-confident youths. Despise not 
 then a mother's fears, however unfounded they may 
 be. Be it your aim to remove them, not by main- 
 taining that there is no ground for them, but by 
 reverently receiving her admonitions, and conform- 
 ing yourself to them. However much more culti- 
 vated your mind may be than hers, or however 
 greater familiarity you may have with learning de- 
 rived from the study of books, rest assured, that in 
 all that appertains to the cultivation of the moral 
 feelings and the formation of habits, the delicacy 
 and refinement of a virtuous mother are of far greater 
 moment to you, than all that you have ever been 
 able to acquire from books or from intercourse with 
 your equals in years ; and in subjects of this kind 
 your own observation and experience are not to 
 be compared with hers. 
 
 Several instances of the happy results of giving 
 due heed to the counsels and instruction of pious 
 mothers are given in the Sacred Scriptures. Wit- 
 ness what the Apostle Paul says of Timothy, and 
 his mother Eunice. 
 
102 THE PEINCETON PULPIT. 
 
 If Solomon "be tlie author of tlie last chapter of 
 Proverbs, and in it speaks of himself under the 
 name of Lemuel, his history furnishes abundant 
 evidence, that even he would have been a wiser 
 man, and a better ruler than he was, had he fol- 
 lowed the instructions given him by his mother, a 
 record of which is made in the chapter named. 
 But the highest of patterns in filial piety is that of 
 our Lord Jesus Christ, of whom it was said, that 
 he was subject unto his parents — that is to say, to 
 his mother and to his reputed father — and that he 
 increased in wisdom and stature, and in favour with 
 God and man. Kemember, too, the command, the 
 first, as the Apostle says, with promise — " Honour 
 thy father and thy mother, that thy days may be 
 long upon the land which the Lord thy God giveth 
 thee." Search all history, inquire of the hoary head^ 
 whether an instance can be found of a youth distin- 
 guished for fihal piety, who ever became a profli- 
 gate in manhood. If I mistake not, you will seek 
 in vain. 
 
 II. My second counsel is, seek with all earnest- 
 ness after truth. 
 
 " Buy the truth, and sell it not," is a direction 
 forming a part of our context. 
 
 The language, you perceive, is figurative, and is 
 borrowed from the conduct of merchants, who, to 
 obtain their ends, often make long and dangerous 
 journeys, and that too without any certainty of 
 success, encouraged only by the hope of acquiring 
 wealth, and by the success usually attendant upon 
 skill, enterprise and perseverance. If successful in 
 
JOHjr MACLEAN, D.D. 103 
 
 getting wealth, tliey are by no means certain of 
 deriving from its possession the joy and pleasure 
 they anticipated. Not so with the purchase of the 
 truth. Its acquisition ensures the highest enjoy, 
 ment ; and the bare hope of securing it might well 
 call forth all the energies of your soul into the 
 most vigorous exercise. What knowledge so im- 
 portant as saving knowledge — the true knowledge 
 of God ? AVhat truth is to be so highly prized, or 
 so eagerly sought for, as the truth that sanctifies, 
 that fits the soul for communion with its God ? and 
 the possession of which is an earnest or sure pledge 
 of eternal life ? 
 
 To how many a father, to how many a mother 
 would it be as life from the dead, could they be 
 assured that you, my young friends, were all ear- 
 nestly seeking the pearl of great price, ready and 
 desirous to purchase it at any cost — at any sacrifice ? 
 
 But while the truth of which we speak is the 
 truth of truths, and the knowledge of it to be more 
 highly prized than that of all other truths, yet, in 
 urging you to seek it with all earnestness, I would 
 not have you indifferent to the truths of physical, 
 ethical, or political science — a knowledge of which is 
 intimately connected with your influence and useful- 
 ness among your fellow men ; nor do I understand 
 the sacred writer, on whose language I am comment- 
 ing, as intending to limit the application of his words 
 to saving truths, as I shall show more fully when I 
 come to speak of the words that immediately follow 
 the direction to " buy the truth, and sell it not." 
 
 There is another view of truth to which I would 
 
104 THE PRIKCETON PULPIT. 
 
 call your attention, tliat is, to truth as oj^posed to 
 falsehood, dissimulation and hypocrisy. With the 
 use of the term triitli in this sense you are all fami- 
 liar, and of this use of it we have an instance, where 
 St. Paul says, "I speak the truth in Christ, I lie 
 not ;" and another in Hebrews x. 22 : " Let us draw 
 near with a true heart ;" that is, " with uprightness, 
 integrity, and sincerity of heart." " Wherefore, put- 
 ting away lying, speak every man truth with his 
 neighbour." — Eph. iv. 25. No character is more 
 despised among men than that of the liar, and 
 none is more truly contemptible ; and in the Sacred 
 Scriptures liars are classed with the vilest of our 
 race, and are threatened with eternal death, as in 
 Revelations xxi. 8 : " All liars shall have their part 
 in the lake that burneth with fire and brimstone, 
 which is the second death." The judgment of God 
 and judgment of man agree in regard to the hate- 
 fulness of lying. Let it, in every form of it, be far 
 from you, my hearers. Let it be your aim to say 
 with the Psalmist, " I hate and abhor lying, but thy 
 law do I love." — Ps. cxix. 163. 
 
 The commands of God, the social interests of 
 men, yea, the very existence of civil society call for 
 an unwavering adherence to truth. Never, then, 
 violate the truth. Establish a character for vera- 
 city. Let no dread of consequences induce you to 
 err from the truth. Submit to any inconvenience, 
 rather than degrade yourself by lying, equivocating, 
 or by mental reservations ; those mean subterfuges 
 of the cowardly and wicked. If ever tempted to 
 prevaricate, call to mind the declarations of Sacred 
 
JOHN M A C L E A X , D . D . 105 
 
 Writ: "The lip of truth shall be established for 
 ever ; but a lying tongue is but for a moment." — • 
 Prov. xii. 19. "Lying lips are an abomination to 
 the Lord ; but they that deal truly are his delight." 
 — Prov. xii. 22. And should you unhappily be 
 betrayed into doing that which, if known, would 
 subject you to the censure of others, never add to 
 your unhaj^piness and guilt l)y a resort to lying, in 
 order to conceal your conduct. 
 
 Many indeed are the expedients devised to quiet 
 conscience, and to justify a departure from the direct 
 line of truth ; but, at best, they are mere expedients, 
 doing no credit to the hearts or heads of those who 
 use them. The only honourable course is candidly to 
 confess your error, and to express your regret. Let 
 it once be known that nothing can induce you ever 
 to utter a falsehood, the knowledge of this fact will 
 give you a character and a standing which will go 
 far to cast into the shade any indiscretions with 
 which you may be chargeable. Adherence to truth is 
 not, indeed, the only virtue in the world, but w^here 
 it exists, it is not apt to be alone ; and wherever it 
 exists, it commands for its possessor the resj^ect and 
 confidence of all who know him. 
 
 Allied to this there is another view of truth, whicli 
 in tliis connexion merits our attention: that is, of 
 truth in the sense of fidelity, sincerity, and punc- 
 tuality in keeping promises, and in this sense it is 
 used in the 100th Psalm: "For the Lord is good, 
 His mercy is everlasting, and His truth endureth to 
 all generations." As God is true to his engagements, 
 so he would have us true to ours. Never make a 
 8 
 
106 THE PRINCETON PULPIT. 
 
 promise, nor pledge your word, unless you mean to 
 do as you promise. To promise and to have no in- 
 tention to keep it, is the lieight of hypocrisy ; and 
 no matter what excuses the individual who thus 
 acts may offer for his conduct, it is base, and cannot 
 but degrade him in his own eyes as well as in the 
 eyes of others. Far from you be conduct like this. 
 By a faithful compliance with all your engagements, 
 gain for yourselves the reputation of being men 
 true to your word. Such a character is above all 
 price, and the youth that possesses it cannot fail to 
 be the joy of his parents. 
 
 III. Seek, also, after " wisdom, instruction, and 
 understanding." This too is the advice of Solomon, 
 who, upon giving it, adds, " the father of the right- 
 eous shall greatly rej oice, and he that begetteth a wise 
 child shall have joy of him." And here let me cite 
 from the wise man another saying on this subject: 
 " A wise son heareth his father''s instruction." — Pro v. 
 xiii. 1. Before urging further a compliance with 
 this advice, let us inquire into the meaning of the 
 terms wisdom, instruction, and understanding, as 
 here used. They are of frequent occurrence in the 
 Sacred Writings, and there is therefore no diffi- 
 culty in determining their general import ; although 
 there may be some in discriminating nicely between 
 them. They are often so blended together, that 
 they seem at least to partake of each other's mean- 
 . ing, and this makes it easier to sj^eak of their joint 
 than of their several im23orts. Without dwelling 
 at length on the subject, I shall endeavour to do 
 both. 
 
J O II X MACLEAN", D . D . 107 
 
 In the Scri23tures, the term " wisdom" is used in 
 various senses, all, however, cognate, and naturally 
 arising from each other. Sometimes it is used in 
 its common acceptation among men, as denoting 
 the power of judging rightly — as in 1st Kings ii. 9 
 — distinguished from mere knowledge, as supposing 
 action, and action directed by it ; or, as expressed 
 by another—" Wisdom is taken for that prudence 
 and discretion which enables men to perceive what 
 is fit to be done, according to the circumstances of 
 time, place, persons, manners and end of doing. — 
 Eccles. ii. 13, 14. Knowledge directs a man what 
 is to be done, and what is not to he done ; wisdom 
 directs him Jiotv to do things duly, conveniently, 
 and fitly." — Cruden. Again, wisdom is taken for 
 "experience," as in Job xdi. 12 — "With the ancient 
 is wisdom." And in Acts vii. 22, for " various learn- 
 ing," where it is said of Moses, he was learned in 
 all the wisdom of the Egyj)tians — that is, as one 
 explains it, " He was instructed in the knoAvledge 
 of those arts and sciences, for which, in those times, 
 the Egyptians were famous." Again, wisdom is 
 taken for " true piety, or the fear of God." " The 
 fear of the Lord, that is wisdom." " So teach us to 
 number our days, that we may apply our hearts 
 unto vji-s-dom^^ — ^the study and practice of piety. 
 There are other and important senses in which the 
 term wisdom is used in Scripture, yet those men- 
 tioned are the only ones to which reference can be 
 had by Solomon, when he says, " Buy aUo wisdom." 
 And they include, as you perceive, both human 
 wisdom to conduct our affairs in this life, and di\dne 
 
108 THE PEINCETON PULPIT. 
 
 wisdom, to make men wise to know their duty, and 
 to save their souls. 
 
 The word rendered " instruction" signifies good 
 and wholesome admonitions and rebukes given to 
 us, in order that we may attain unto wisdom ; like- 
 wise chastisement ; and it is also used to denote 
 that which is set forth as an example for the warn- 
 ing of others. In the passage under consideration, 
 it denotes, I apprehend, chiefly divine admonition 
 and reproof. 
 
 The word translated " understanding" means the 
 power or ability to discern between truth and error, 
 between good and evil, and the choosing of the for- 
 mer and the rejecting of the latter. The primitive 
 meaning of the word from which it is derived is to 
 separate, or put apart — hence the significations, to 
 distinguish, to understand, or to know fully and 
 distinctly. 
 
 But it is probable that the several terms, wisdom, 
 instruction and understanding, were employed, not 
 so much for the purpose of exact discrimination, 
 as to indicate the earnestness with which they should 
 be sought. " The fear of the Lord is the beginning 
 of wisdom. A good understanding have all they 
 that do his commandments." " Fear God, and keep 
 his commandments, for this is the whole duty of 
 man." From a com2:>arison of these passages, it is 
 evident, that when Solomon bids us buy " wisdom, 
 instruction, and understanding," and, especially, as- 
 he at the same time, bids us buy the truth, he had in 
 view that piety and knowledge which fit us for the 
 service of God, and that wisdom which makes us 
 
JOHN MACLEAJf, D.D. 109 
 
 Aviso unto salvation. And yet it is more than 
 probable that lie did not intend to exclude tlie 
 knowledge of buman arts and learning, as will ap- 
 pear, I tbink, from an examination of 1st Kings iv. 
 29-33 — " And God gave Solomon wisdom and un- 
 derstanding, exceeding mucb, and largeness of heart, 
 even as the sand on the sea shore. And Solomon's 
 wisdom excelled the wisdom of the children of the 
 East, and all the wisdom of Egypt. For he was wiser 
 than all men, than Ethan the Ezrahite, and Heman, 
 and Chalcol and Darda, the sons of Maliol ; and 
 bis fame was in all the nations round about. And 
 he spake three thousand proverbs, and bis songs 
 were a thousand and five. And he spake of trees, 
 from the cedar in Lebanon even unto the hyssop 
 that springeth out of the wall ; he S2:>ake also of 
 beasts, and of fowl, and of creeping things, and 
 fishes." He was not only a great prince, but also 
 a j)hilosopher and a poet. These, ol^serve, are all 
 mentioned as evidences of the great wisdom and un- 
 derstanding: and laro'eness of heart that God o-ave to 
 Solomon ; and we may therefore well suppose, that 
 when he extols wisdom, and bids us seek it, and also 
 understanding, he meant to emj^loy these terms in 
 their largest meanings, and as comprehending all va- 
 rieties of useful knowledge, whether pertaining to 
 religion or to the ordinary aftairs of life. They are 
 approved of God, they are held in honour among 
 men. " The wise shall inherit glory." — Prov. iii. 35. 
 "A wise son maketh a glad father, but a foolish 
 son is the heaviness of his mother." — Prov. x. 1. 
 " My son, if thy heart be wise, my heart shaU re- 
 
110 THE PRINCETON PULPIT. 
 
 joice, even mine." — Prov. xxiii. 15. Do not these 
 words express tlie sentiments of every father ? 
 
 Be it your aim, my youthful hearers, to make all 
 possible advances in both human and divine know- 
 ledge, but especially in the latter. Treasure up 
 also, as far as you can, the lessons of true wisdom, 
 alike on secular as on religious subjects, and seek to 
 be men of understanding. Do you inquire how all 
 this is to be done ? I answer it is to be done by mak- 
 ing a proper use of your present time and present 
 privileges. For the study of God's Word, a knowl- 
 edge of which is able, through faith in its teach- 
 ings, to make you wise unto salvation, you have 
 every facility ; and would that the disposition to 
 become thoroughly acquainted with its precepts 
 and its truths was equal to the ready access you 
 can at all times have to its sacred pages. 
 
 The rich mines too of human science and learn- 
 ing are, to a greater or less extent, thrown open for 
 your admission ; and, just so far as you choose, you 
 are at liberty to avail yourselves of the treasures 
 they contain. You are also provided with guides, 
 whose duty and, I may add, whose pleasure it is, 
 to attend you in your search of the hidden stores of 
 wisdom and knowledge. And there is nothing that 
 ought to draAv you away from your professed em- 
 ployments and appropriate work. Do not, for a 
 moment, suppose that you can ever become wise or 
 learned without effort on your own part. God 
 gave wisdom to Solomon just in the same way that 
 he gives it to other men. He gave him the dispo- 
 sition to apply himself earnestly to the cultivation 
 
JOHN MACLEAN, D . D . Ill 
 
 of those powers of mind wliicli lie had previously 
 bestowed upon Solomon, and by affording him op- 
 portunities for the full development of those powers. 
 The very account which is given of Solomon is proof 
 positive of his untiring industry. 
 
 On this branch of our subject I shall make but 
 one remark more, and it is this : that the study and 
 practice of true piety is no hindrance to the vigor- 
 ous prosecution of our secular j)ursuits ; but, on the 
 contrary, is favourable to our success in all our law- 
 ful undertakinsfs. No mind can be in so favourable 
 a state for attention to the ordinary studies or busi- 
 ness of life as when it is conscious of being at peace 
 with God, and of doing all things from a desire to 
 serve and please Him. 
 
 " Happy is the man that findeth wisdom, and the 
 man that getteth understanding : For the merchan- 
 dize of it is better than the merchandize of silver, 
 and the gain thereof than fine gold. She is more 
 precious than rubies ; and all the things thou canst 
 desire are not to be compared unto her. Length of 
 days is in her right hand ; and in her left hand 
 riches and honour. Her ways are ways of pleasant- 
 ness, and all her paths are peace. She is a tree of 
 life to them that lay hold upon her ; and ha23py is 
 every one that retaineth her." — Pro v. iii. 13-18. 
 
 IV. Let me once more counsel you to seek the 
 company of the wise and good, and to exercise the 
 utmost care in selecting, as jowr intimate associates, 
 those who are distinguished for sobriety of conduct, 
 and for their reverence for divine things. " He that 
 walketh with wise men shall be wise ; but a com- 
 
112 THE PRINCETON PULPIT. 
 
 panlon of fools shall be destroyed." — Pro v. xiii. 20. 
 I need scarcely say, tliat your associations, of 
 wliatever kind they be, cannot fail to exert an in- 
 fluence over you ; and should they unhap^^ily be 
 evil associations, they cannot prove else than mis- 
 chievous. If your chosen and constant companions 
 be rude and vulgar, you will become rude and 
 vulgar ; if profane, you will become profane ; if 
 intemperate and licentious, you will be like them. 
 What reason can any one have to hope for a differ- 
 ent result ? Whatever other qualities of an attract- 
 ive character they may possess, and which incline 
 you to seek their company, if not their friendshij^ ; 
 these others are not the only ones which will 
 have an influence upon you. Familiarity with 
 wicked sentiments and evil practices wdll soon re- 
 move your own repugnance to these sentiments 
 and these practices ; and the way will be moi-e or 
 less rapidly prepared for your becoming like your 
 friends in feeling and in deportment. On the con- 
 trary, if your companions be the wise and good, you 
 cannot but receive advantage from the connection. 
 You will imbibe their sentiments, and copy their 
 example, possibly without being conscious of doing 
 so. If, then, you have any desire to gladden the 
 heart of your father, or to be the joy of your mo- 
 ther, you must avoid all corrupt associates, and 
 cleave only to the virtuous and the good. Here, 
 again, let me cite the words of Solomon : " Enter 
 not into the path of the wicked, and go not in the 
 way of evil men. Avoid it, j^ass not by it, turn 
 from it, and pass away. The path of the just is as 
 
JOHN ]maclea:n^, d.d. 113 
 
 tlie sLiuin^: li^'lit, that sliinetli more and more unto 
 the perfect day. The way of the wicked is as 
 darkness. They know not at what they stumble." 
 V. Allied to the choice of companions is the 
 choice of books. If they be good, they will tend 
 to make you wise and virtuous ; if bad, they will 
 corrupt your minds, and prepare tlie way for sinful 
 and ruinous courses. Remember that such is the 
 constitution of our minds, that every thing we read 
 makes an impression upon them. It may at first, 
 and even for a long time, be as imperceptible 
 to the eye of the ordinary observer as the impres- 
 sion made upon rocks or stones by drops of falling 
 water ; yet, in the course of time, it will become 
 equally apparent and equally lasting. 
 
 As is your reading so are you. The youth de- 
 voted to the study of science will become a scien- 
 tific man ; the student of works of taste will become 
 a man of taste ; the devourer of works of imagina- 
 tion will partake of the character of his reading ; if 
 these be works of a corrupt imagination, they Avill 
 corrupt you. The diligent student of God's word 
 will become wise unto salvation ; and let it be your 
 firm resolve to give that direction to all your read- 
 , ing and all your studies, and that alone, which will 
 tend to make you wise and good. Remember the 
 character of the blessed man, as set forth in the 1st 
 Psalm : " Blessed is the man that walketh not in 
 the counsel of the ungodly ; that standeth not in the 
 way of sinners ; that sitteth not in the seat of the 
 scornful ; but his delight is in the law of the Lord, 
 and in His law doth he meditate day and night." 
 
114 THE PEINCETON PULPIT. 
 
 Constant meditation on the precepts of God's word 
 is the source of this blessedness, and saves him from 
 the path and the fate of the wicked. 
 
 VI. Finally, cherish virtuous sentiments and vir- 
 tuous habits. This accords with the whole tenor of 
 Solomon's counsel to the young ; and if you follow 
 this counsel, your father, like the Father of the 
 righteous, shall greatly rejoice. The adoption and 
 the cherishing of virtuous sentiments is essential to 
 the practice of virtue. A corrupt tree cannot bring 
 forth good fruit. That your sentiments may be 
 virtuous, you must give yourselves to the study of 
 virtue. Remember the words of St. Paul in his 
 epistle to the Philippians, and in this matter make 
 them the rule of your conduct : 
 
 "Finally, brethren, whatsoever things are true, 
 whatsoever things are honest, whatsoever things are 
 just, whatsoever things are pure, whatsoever things 
 are lovely, whatsoever things are of good report ; if 
 there be any virtue, and if there be any praise, 
 think on these things." 
 
 Yes, my young friends, think on these things ; 
 continued meditation upon them will fill your minds 
 with useful maxims for the regulation of your con- 
 duct, and will thus most powerfully influence that 
 conduct. It will tend to make you true and honest, 
 just and pure and lovely, a diligent student and a 
 useful man. It will save you from the snares of the 
 wicked, and from the destruction that awaits the 
 devotees of pleasure, the victims of appetite and of 
 lust, against which, in the strongest terms, Solomon 
 
JOHN IMACLEAN, D.D. 115 
 
 warns liis son ; and the careful study of his counsel 
 on this head, I most earnestly commend to you. 
 
 To these counsels I might add much, but our 
 time does not permit ; and if you are disposed to 
 pursue a course of conduct that will gladden the 
 hearts of your parents, sufficient has been said, I 
 hope, to confirm that disposition. And if you are 
 not thus dis23osed, I should have but a faint hope of 
 ever enlisting your feelings in this subject, however 
 much I might enlarge upon it. 
 
 Can a father or mother fail to rejoice, at seeing 
 a beloved son manifesting the greatest deference 
 for their authority and counsels ; seeing him earn- 
 estly engaged in seeking after truth, wisdom, in- 
 struction and understanding, and that in the highest 
 and most important meanings of these terms ; seeing 
 him, too, the companion of the wise and good, avoid- 
 ing all evil courses and wicked men, and embracing 
 sound and virtuous sentiments, and ever acting in 
 accordance with them ? 
 
 It does not require then to have minds equally cul- 
 tivated with your own to be partakers of the joy, of 
 which so often I have had occasion to speak. I well 
 remember an occurrence at one of our annual com- 
 mencements, about thirty years ago, which con- 
 firms the remark just made. The son of a plain 
 and unlettered man, one of the youngest members 
 of his class, and at the same time one of the first 
 scholars of that class, who, not many years after 
 leaving College, descended to an honoured grave, 
 was pronouncing the oration assigned to liim as his 
 part in the exercises of that day, and such was the 
 
116 THE PEIJSTCETON PULPIT. 
 
 impression that his speech and his sj)eaking made 
 upon the minds of some of his auditors, that they 
 were instinctively jirompted to inquire, " Who is 
 that youth ?" " He is my sou," said the delighted 
 father, who happened to be near ; and this he said 
 much to the surprise and delight of those that stood 
 by, and listened to this unexpected burst of a father's 
 
 joy- 
 
 What a glorious sight would it be to see a whole 
 college of such youths ! 
 
SORROW IS BETTER THAN LAUGHTER. 
 
 THE REV. JAMES W. ALEXANDER, D. D. 
 
 FORMERLY BELLES LETTRES PROFESSOR IN THE COLLEGE OP NEW JERSEY, SUBSEQtlENTLTf 
 PROFESSOR OF CUtfRCU UISTORY IN THE TnEOLOGICAL SEMINARY. 
 
 •' Sorrow is better than laughter : for by the sadness of the countenance the 
 heart is made better. The heart of the wise is in the house of mourning; 
 but the heart of fools is in the house of nnirth. It is better to hear the re- 
 buke of the wise, than for a man to hear the song of fools. For as the crackling 
 of thorns under a pot, so is the laughter of the fool. This also is vanity. 
 Ecc. vii. 3-6. 
 
 The ripe experience of Solomon, wliom we still 
 believe- to be the Preaclier in this book, was ob- 
 tained among circumstances as favorable for a com- 
 plete judgment, as any man ever had, and resulted in 
 a melancholy determination. At each stage of pro- 
 gress he seems to pause, and looking back to say — • 
 " this also is vanity." It is a conclusion to which 
 many have come, and there are moments in life 
 when we are all disposed to sit down in despond- 
 ency, as if the world had proved a cheat, and as if 
 no words could better express the sum of our ob- 
 servations than those of the wisest of kings — • 
 " Vanity of vanities, all is vanity." In such a re- 
 sult there is not necessarily any religion. A Gen- 
 
118 THE PEINCETON PULPIT. 
 
 tile, an infidel, or a savage, is competent to feel such 
 grief, and to utter sucli disap]3ointment. Emptiness 
 of earthly pleasure may be used by sovereign grace 
 as a preparation for the fulness of li'eavenly good ; 
 but in a majority of cases, ttie conviction tends 
 eitlier to epicurean indulgence, " let us eat and 
 drink, for to-morrow we die ;" or to blank, atlieistic 
 despair, in wkicL. the misguided wretcb commits 
 self-murder l)y strong drink, tke pistol, or tke cord. 
 Hence it becomes a question, second to none in 
 the pliilosopliy of life, kow to regulate pleasure and 
 pain, joy and grief, so as to avoid the extremes of 
 carnal folly on one band, and of horrible despondence 
 on the other. Under this general head it is impor- 
 tant to see whether real good may not be extracted 
 even from disappomtment, loss, and pain ; and 
 whether there is not some middle ground of safety 
 and profit between the lawless exhilaration of the 
 gay world, and the sullen self-torment of misan- 
 thropy. And we find nothing but revelation which 
 furnishes any true help in this problem, or teaches 
 us how to use our sorrows as a means of ultimate 
 joy. It was worthy of Solomon to leave on record 
 the solution of this enigma ; indeed the spirit of 
 Avisdom which he had sought m youth, returned 
 to him in age, when he had run his uujiaralleled 
 round of pleasure, and, if tradition errs not, made 
 these maxims the solace of his graver declining 
 years, and through him a treasury of wisdom for 
 succeeding ages. Difficult as some parts of the 
 book of Ecclesiastes are, there is nothing clearer 
 than its grand termination (xii. 1 3) : — " Let us hear 
 
J. W . ALEXANDER, D.D. 110 
 
 tlie concliisiou of tlie whole matter ; Fear God and 
 keep liis commandments ; for this is the whole duty 
 of man" — the summumhomim — the end of creation 
 and existence. 
 
 There is, perhaps, no man of middle life, not 
 brutahzed by sensual delights, or insane with cupi- 
 dity, who does not sometimes feel himself in the 
 darkness expressed in the latter verses of the pre- 
 ceding chapter, which open the way for our text. 
 Everything that he has touched has turned into 
 disgusting nothingness. Many things have been 
 tried, and he has almost swept the entire curve of 
 human pursuits and promises, as to their kinds ; 
 but by none of them has he found his inward con- 
 dition bettered. In his circuit throuijh the vast 
 edifice of this world, from flight to flight and gal- 
 lery to gallery, he has locked up a thousand doors, 
 and sealed them with the inscription — There is 
 iiotliing here worth entering for. He has seen 
 friends fall dead on the very threshold of their 
 hopes, and has exclaimed with the great British 
 politician, when a rival was stricken down at the 
 very hustings, " What shadows we are, and what 
 shadows we pursue !" Or, if a scholar, he has mut- 
 tered to himself Pindar's saying, "Man is a 
 shadow !"" He has outlived such mutations, as to 
 rob him of all security about the family or the 
 property he may leave, being in doubt what change 
 in government or laws the next turn of the popular 
 wheel may bring up when he shall be in his vault ; 
 but no words can better convey the meaning of his 
 heart, in such dismal twilight hours, tlum those of 
 
120 THE PEINCETOlSr PULPIT. 
 
 the ]3reaclier (y\. 11.) : — " Seeing tliere be many 
 things that increase vanity, what is man the better ? 
 For who knoweth what is good for man in this life ; 
 all the number of the days of the life of his vanity, 
 which he spendeth as a shadow? For who can 
 tell a man what shall be after him under the sun."* 
 
 The Stoics, those famous philosophers of old time, 
 the Pharisees of Greece and Rome, undertook to 
 turn nature out of doors, and as trouble was mani- 
 festly unavoidable, to persuade themselves and 
 others that pain was no evil. Could they have 
 held men at this point, it had been something 
 gained, but the lesson of the Porch was ignomin- 
 iously recanted in the first moment of keen anguish. 
 The wiser teaching of the Hebrews had no such 
 absurdity. It admitted that pain was pain, and that 
 evil was evil. But it did not rush to the opposite 
 extreme, like Epicurus, and assert that pleasure is 
 the chief good, and that we must make the most of 
 carnal joys, employing virtue only to enhance and 
 secure the exquisite satisfactions of this life. From 
 first to last God's inspired system takes man as he 
 is, appeals to the common uncontradicted experi- 
 ence of all souls, in all ages, admits the ills of life, 
 shows their origin, and, above all, indicates the 
 way to make them useful, and the certain means of 
 escaping them for ever. 
 
 Our inspired monitor closes the eye on neither 
 side. He looks at pleasure, he looks at pain, and 
 with a wise discernment of eacli. Both doors 
 are open to him : he hears the noise of revelry, and 
 
 * Margin. 
 
J . W . ALEXANDER, D . D . 121 
 
 the lamentations of woe ; and the Invaluable re- 
 cord which he makes is, that Man derives more good 
 from sorrow^ ivisely considered^ than from the ex- 
 cesses of pleasure — a proposition which we shall 
 find it profitable to examine. It is variously ex- 
 pressed. Sorrow is set over against laughter ; the 
 house of mourning over against the house of mirth ; 
 the rebuke of the wise over against the music of 
 fools ; the day of death over against the day of 
 birth : all tending, however, to this, tliat trouble, 
 pain, and grief, have their bright side, and that 
 giddy indulgence and merriment carry a sting. In 
 this comparison of pain and pleasure, the result is 
 so opposed to the opinion and feelings of all the 
 world, as to need some show of good reasons, which 
 we are now about to attempt. With God's blessing 
 it may be a relief to some wounded spirit. 
 
 1. Sorrow is hetter than laughter^ hecause a great 
 part of worldly merriment is no better than folly. 
 Here we take no extreme or ascetic ground. It 
 would be morose, and sour, and unchristian, to 
 scowl at the gambols of infancy, or to hush the 
 laugh of youth, on fit occasions. Even here, how- 
 ever, the wise guardian will sometimes lay his gentle 
 but repressive hand on the buoyant spirit, and 
 teach juvenile exuberance that it may go the length 
 of self-injury, and end in trouble. Cheerfulness is 
 no where forbidden, even in adult life ; and we 
 perhaps offend God oftener by our frowns than by 
 our smiles. He who believes that his soul is in a 
 safe state, and who receives his daily mercies with 
 thankfulness may well rejoice. The very care of 
 9 
 
122 THE PRI]^CETO]S^ PULPIT. 
 
 liealtli demands tlie relaxation and stimulus of rea- 
 sonable mirtli. Solomon himself lias called it a 
 medicine. But you all do know tliat tliere is a 
 merriment wliicL. admits no rule, confines itself by 
 no limit, shocks every maxim even of sober reason, 
 absorbs tlie wliole powers, wastes the time, and de- 
 bilitates the intellect, even if it do not lead to 
 supreme love of pleasure, profligacy, and general 
 intemperance and voluptuousness. A wise heathen, 
 or a sedate North American Indian, would form the 
 same judgment of our city amusements, in which 
 thousands are expended, and in which the reso- 
 nance of midnight music, the questionable heats of 
 flushed performers, and the unhealthy lassitude en- 
 suing on extreme mirth and laborious display, 
 remind reading men of a hundred biting observa- 
 tions of ancient Gentile satirists on the assemblies 
 of their day. But the world will do anything ; 
 will wear any dress or undress ; will make any 
 outlay ; will teach its children any posture-making 
 or grimace ; will run any risk of destroying souls, 
 which may be prescribed by those who lead the 
 mode. And this they call pleasure ; and this is 
 aped by church-professors, who would rather die 
 than be left behind in the race of expensive and 
 luxurious fashion. The prattle, the " foolish jest- 
 ing, which is not convenient," the song and outcry, 
 inflamed by wine and rivalry, and the " chamber- 
 ing and wantonness " which, lower down in the 
 scale, come of these, and show their tendency, are 
 (1 say not in the eye of the Christian or of Christ, 
 
J. ^V. ALEXANDER, D.D. 123 
 
 but iu tlie eve of common reason) too trifliiia' for 
 an immortal mind. 
 
 2. fSorroiv is better than la ug]ite)\ because mud i of 
 worldly merriment tends to no intellectual or morcd 
 good. And must I prove to you tliat intellectual 
 and moral good are tlie great end ? Must I tell 
 you that you are not all body, all brute ? — tliat 
 you liave something within which is not animal or 
 sensual ? — that you are made to know an Incarnate 
 God, and to be like him I I will not so insult my 
 audience; I will not so degrade my office as to 
 press the proof. AVordly pleasures, and the ex- 
 pressions of these, do nothing for the immaterial 
 part. AVhen you have put the best face on them, 
 they leave you where they found you. But ah ! 
 this is far too favorable a construction. The oft- 
 repeated gaieties, and sports, and dissipations, 
 which are included under the terms of the wdse 
 man, and which are for substance the same in 
 Jerusalem and Princeton, leave no one the same. 
 The utmost that can be pretended is that they 
 amuse and recreate. We admit, we applaud re- 
 creation and amusement, but within the bounds of 
 reason, within the limits of religion, by m^eans which 
 are above doubt, and in ways which offend not the 
 church or the world. In their very notion, they 
 are exceptions, and should be sparing. 
 
 But there are a thousand recreative processes 
 connected with healthful exercise, with knowledge, 
 with the study of beautiful nature, with the practice 
 and contemplation of art, and with the fellowship 
 of friends, which unbend the tense nerve and re- 
 
124 THE PEINCETON PULPIT. 
 
 fresli the wasted spirits, while at the same time 
 they instruct the mind and soften or tranquillize 
 the heart. Not so with the unbridled joys which 
 find vent in redoubled peals of mirth and obstre- 
 porous carousal, or in the lighter play of chattered 
 nonsense and never-ending giggle. Make such in- 
 tercourse the business of life (and with some, if you 
 include preparations and councils for the party, and 
 subsequent words and doings, it is the business of 
 whole seasons), and you degrade the understanding 
 of these persons to such a degree, that you err if 
 you expect ever to find them equal to a discussion 
 of anything more tasking, to what they call their 
 mind, than the last spicy news, or the last provo- 
 cative novel, or the last libertine dance. But, even 
 among the intellects thus mollified by mirth and 
 pleasure, there is scarcely one so far gone as to 
 plead that these gaieties benefit the spiritual part ; 
 that they make conscience more calm, death more 
 easy, or eternal life more sure. The "house of 
 feasting," the " house of mirth," whether open by 
 day or night, offers no advantage to the soul, and 
 
 the SOUL IS THE MAN. 
 
 3. Sorrow is better than laugliter^ because worldly 
 mirth is short. In the Eastern countries, where 
 fuel is very scarce, every combustible shrub, brush, 
 and bramble is seized upon for culinary fires. Of 
 these the blaze is bright, hot, and soon extinct. 
 Such is worldly mirth. " For as the crackling of 
 thorns under a pot, so is the laughter of the fool." 
 It is noisy — more noisy than if there were anything 
 in it. But it soon ceases. Physical limits are put 
 
J. W. ALEXANDER, D.D. 125 
 
 to gay pleasures. Mirth was meant to be not the 
 food Lilt the condiment. The loudest lauo-her 
 cannot laugh forever. Lungs and diaphragm for- 
 bid and rebel. St. Vitus himself, in popish story, 
 saw an end to his penal dance. There is a time of 
 life when such pleasures become as difficult as they 
 are ungraceful ; and there is not in society a more 
 ridiculous object, even in its own circle, than a 
 tottering, antiquated, bedizened devotee of fashion. 
 Grief comes in and shortens the amusement. Losses 
 and reverses shorten it. And, if there were nothino- 
 else, pleasure must be short, because it cannot be 
 extended to Judgment and Eternity. I apprehend 
 there is as little loud laughter in heaven as in hell. 
 In our wiser hours Tre think of permanent joy 
 under far different and more tranquil types and 
 emblems. 
 
 4. Worldly mirtli is unsatisfying. This is what 
 is chiefly meant by the word Vanity. " This also 
 is Vanity." Solomon tried these things, and in- 
 scribed on them, " Vanity of vanities, all is vanity,'' 
 i. ^., emptiness and disappointment. It is a very 
 common experience of thousands — always drinking, 
 always athirst — who never breathe it to their 
 neighbors, and who yet bring up their children to 
 let down buckets into the same empty wells. The 
 world's pleasures are not what they imagined. 
 Even money, which they thought omnipotent, 
 (thus making it God^ and thus proving covetous- 
 ness to be what sacred Scripture calls it, idolatry) ; 
 divine money will not buy solid peace. The man 
 wonders why the toys and rattles which pleased 
 
126 THE PRIFCETOlSr PULPIT. 
 
 liim once, please him now no more. They are vanity, 
 and all is vanity ; and every day that he lives longer 
 will make it more formidably vanity. Now, pray 
 observe, the case is directly the reverse with regard 
 to sound intellectual and spiritual enjoyments ; for 
 which the capacity is perpetually increasing with 
 its indulgence. But he who has laughed loudest 
 and longest, comes at length, though from habit 
 still wearing the guise and uttering the ejacula- 
 tions of joy, to know, with a grinding consciousness, 
 that "even n laughter the heart is sorrowful, 
 and the end of that mirth is heaviness." — Prov. 
 xiv. 13. 
 
 " The heart of fools " (ver. 4) " is, nevertheless, 
 in the house of mirth ;" but thus far accompanying 
 Solomon on this path which he knew so well, we 
 have found nothing which should place it among 
 the resorts of true wisdom. It is not the house to 
 live in, or to diejn. One might stop there on a 
 journey, but will not seek it as an abode. Perhaps, 
 after all, you have undervalued and mistaken that 
 other house, of which the wise man speaks. There 
 is no brilliant illumination on its front ; no sounds 
 of revelino- come from its windows ; its avenues are 
 shaded by the willow, the cjrpress, and the yew. 
 From the broad road few go aside to seek this 
 sequestered mansion ; indeed all who resort hither 
 seem first to enter against their will. Yet many 
 who emerge from this covert bear marks of being 
 sadder and wiser men. Under this roof they have 
 been brought to a pause ; have learnt a lesson ; 
 have risen to an elevation ; have found a friend ; 
 
J . W . ALEXANDER, D . D . 1 2 7 
 
 and have acqiured an inheritance. So that they 
 are less fearful when summoned to enter again ; 
 less ready to chase the butterfly on their former 
 highroad ; and more prepared to give as their ex- 
 perience : " The heart of the-wise is in the house of 
 mourning." We say then, 
 
 5. SorroiD is letter than laughter^ lecanse sorroio 
 hreeds reflection. The man who sorrows, must muse. 
 Even the customs of society further this. Incon- 
 siderate, headlong people are sometimes so changed 
 in a single day by affliction, as to be a wonder to 
 others and to themselves. Now this is a sfreat 
 point, because much of irreligion arises from want 
 of thought. That frivolous, laughing creature 
 scarcely knew that she had a soul, until hurried 
 into this bower of tears, and set down beside some 
 urn of sorrowful memories, and made to hear, in 
 every murmuring leaf and breeze, the admonition, 
 " Consider your ways." Worldly pleasure is so 
 much the reverse, that its very province is to kill 
 thought. There can be no contemplation amidst 
 the riot of self-indulgence ; but the house of mourn- 
 ing is a meditative abode. Its doors are many. 
 Its inmates are of every tribe, age, and character. 
 Each mourns apart : " the heart knoweth its own 
 bitterness." But each has been brouo^ht to conside- 
 ration. The sorrowing man has at least found out 
 this — that he is vulnerable. There is no piety in 
 this ; but commonly there can be no piety without it. 
 He who falls wounded, is prompt to examine the 
 arrow ; and sometimes sees it labelled witli his sin. 
 Before they were afflicted, a large proportion of 
 
128 THE PEINCETON PULPIT. 
 
 God's people went astray ; and, if they live long 
 enough, they can all declare, that the solemn pauses 
 of their bereavement, illness, poverty, shame, and 
 fear, have been better to them than the dainties of 
 the house of feasting. • 
 
 6. Sorrow is better than laugliter^ because sorroio 
 brings lessons of wisdom. Sufferers not only think 
 but learn. Many sermons could not record all the 
 lessons of affliction. It is indeed a melting of the 
 whole surface, fitting it for the im]3ression of every 
 religious truth. Considered as the fruit of chastise- 
 ment, and as coming from an offended but loving 
 Master and Judge, its chief teaching is undoubtedly 
 that of reproof. It tells us wherein we have offend- 
 ed. It takes us away from - the flattering crowd? 
 and from seducing charmers, and keenly reaches, 
 with its probe, the hidden iniquity. This is less 
 j)leasing than worldly joy, but it is more profitable. 
 Our best advisers are those who are never found 
 among the frolicsome and luxurious, but who take 
 us by the hand in the darkened chamber. Ver. 5, 
 " It is better to bear the rebuke of the w^ise, than 
 for a man to hear the song of fools." The Bible is 
 the chief book in the house of mourning — read by 
 some there who have never read it elsewhere, and 
 revealing to its most assiduous students new truths, 
 shining forth in affliction like stars which have 
 been hidden in daylight. But, above all, the 
 house of mourning is the chosen resort of the great 
 Teacher, who visited Martha and Mary, and who 
 never discloses his face amidst the glare of convivial 
 torches, or wastes his j^ensive tones among the 
 
J. W. ALEXANDEK,D.D. 129 
 
 clamours of fasliionaLle pleasure. Many ages before 
 God was incarnate, Messiali speaks of himself in 
 prophecy, as the instructor of the sorrowing : Isa. 
 1. 4, " The Lord hath given me the tongue of the 
 learned (the power of instruotion), that I should 
 know how to speak a word in season to him that 
 is wear}^" It is a sufficient indemnity for all losses, 
 if in the house of mourning we meet Avith Ilim^ 
 who does not break the bruised reed, nor quench 
 the smoking flax. In days of pleasure we seldom 
 think of deatli. Who would venture on the word 
 in any crowd of persons engaged for hours in the 
 solemn business of amusing themselves % But it 
 is the subject of a great lesson, which is apt to be 
 brought vividly before us in the hour of bereave- 
 ment or in the sick-chamber; and numbering of 
 our days is indispensable in order that we apply 
 our hearts unto wisdom. Hence our context : " It 
 is better to go to the house of mourning than to^go 
 to the house of feasting ; for that (to wit, death, 
 V. 1) is the end of all men, and the living will lay 
 it to his heart." These are but samples of the wis- 
 dom to which we are introduced by sorrow. 
 
 T. Sorrow is letter than lauyhter, hecause sorrow 
 amends the heart and life. Not by any efficiency 
 of good ; of such efficiency, pain, whether of body 
 or mind, knows nothing; but by becoming the 
 vehicle of divine influences. I have not yet read 
 or heard of a single soul renewed by the garrulous 
 assembly, or in the jovial hall. But how multi- 
 tudinous would be the procession, if we could see 
 at once all who have issued new creatures from the 
 
130 THE PRINCETON PULPIT. 
 
 house of mourning ! Even tliere — some there are — 
 so blasted by depraved passion, and so rocky in 
 selfishness, as to brave every softening influence of 
 truth, though poured over them by the very hand 
 of a chastising God. But yet the ways of pro- 
 vidence are such, that troubled spirits, bathed in 
 tears, are repeatedly made to cry with a joy which 
 swallows U23 all foregoing griefs, " Before we were 
 afflicted we went astray, but now have we kept thy 
 law !" 
 
 Laughter is not — cannot be — ^but sorrow daily 
 is a means of grace — a channel for heavenly love 
 and divine truth to convey itself into hearts emptied 
 of earthly good, till the full soul, amazed at its 
 own haj^piness, despises its former delusions, and 
 glories even in tribulation ; yielding to wave 
 after wave of the gracious current, and naming 
 these, Patience, Experience, Hope, and Love of 
 God, shed abroad by the Holy Ghost. Shrink not 
 then from the chastening of the Lord, my brother, 
 my sister, despise not, faint not. Mistake not the 
 gentle hand which droj)S no disquietude or pang, 
 even of a moment, but by the consent and at the 
 bidding of One that standeth by, sustaining the 
 throbbing, swooning patient in his own arms, and 
 yielding himself to the touch of our infirmities, the 
 rather, as He was once tried in all points, like as 
 we are. " By the sadness of the countenance the 
 heart is made better." 
 
 It is the common testimony of Christians, that 
 they seldom learn very fast in Christ's school, ex- 
 cej^t when they are under the rod. On a sudden, 
 
D.D. 131 
 
 tlie believer comes to consider liow mucli he has 
 been prospered, and liow different liis case is from 
 what he remembers. " Then," says he, " I was per- 
 j^etually turning to the most sorrowful passages of 
 Job, David, and Jeremiah. Now I am in peace. 
 My table is laden — my cup overflows. Cold and 
 nakedness are only figures of poetry. If not in 
 wealth, I am exempt from embarrassment. My 
 senses and my health are preserved. It is long 
 since I was in mourning for a near friend." Thus 
 Job said : " I shall die in my nest, and I shall mul- 
 tiply my days as the sand. My root was spread 
 out by the waters, and the dew lay all night upon 
 my branch." The prosperous believer owns all 
 this, and looks around him, at first with surprise 
 and complacency, but then with disquietude. For 
 he sees likewise that in some degree he has for- 
 gotten God his Sa^^our. The Bible has become 
 less precious. Prayer is less frequent, importunate, 
 and indispensable. Daily taking up the cross is 
 unknown. Sympathy with the wretched is less 
 deep. Self-importance is on the increase. Love of 
 the world, in some of its shapes, is gaining strength. 
 God is more absent from his thoughts — Christ is 
 scarcely longed for, as in hours of humility and 
 tenderness ; the Holy Spirit is less cried out for, and 
 panted after, as a Comforter. In short, prosperity 
 has brought leanness into the soul. 
 
 Happy are they who take heed in time, and pro- 
 fit under the whisper of admonition, or the gentle 
 threatening. If not, Christ loves his own too well 
 to leave them without stripes. And what a won- 
 
132 THE PRINCETON PULPIT. 
 
 derfiil virtue tliere is in the rod, wlieii it is in 
 Christ's Lands ! Tlie very beginnings of cliastise- 
 ment sometimes drive the wandering child iDack to 
 the bosom of infinite affection. Continued dangers, 
 long languishings and disappointments, relapses into 
 grief, sudden alarms, keen anguish, redoubled visit- 
 ations, in stroke upon stroke, all go home to his 
 soul, by the mighty power of sanctifying grace. 
 In his affliction he seeks God ; in his affliction he 
 cannot live a moment without Christ. There is 
 such an ordered connexion between sin and sorrow, 
 that from his sorrows he goes back to his sins ; and 
 hours of pain and fear become hours of repenting. 
 If he repined before, he can repine no longer. 
 " Wherefore doth a living man complain, a man for 
 the punishment of his sins? Let us search and 
 try our way, and turn again to the Lord !" He 
 prays ; if his trial is great, he prays without ceas- 
 ing. Though he never felt smaller in his own eyes, 
 God is nevertheless, by these very means, exalting 
 him and instructing him, and deepening the work 
 of grace in his heart. That prime part of his spi- 
 ritual education is making rapid advances, namel}^, 
 the subduing of his will to the will of God. He is 
 becoming more indifferent to wordly good or evil ; 
 more willing that God should rule and dispose ; 
 more fixed on the great spiritual and eternal ends 
 of life ; more ready to prefer holiness (though by 
 painful means) to joy and ease ; and more resolved 
 to make his all consist in knowing, serving, and en- 
 joying the Lord his Redeemer. If, my brethren, 
 a visit to the House of Sorrow makes the face of 
 
J. Vr, ALEXANDEIl, D.D. 133 
 
 Jesus more familiar or more beloved, tlien slirink 
 not from putting your hand in His, and following 
 Him even into deeper shadows than any you have 
 yet known ; for, above all beings, it is He who 
 knows the most of affliction. 
 
 8. Sorroiv is hetter than lavgliter^ hecause sorrow 
 likens us to Him wliovn tve love. You know His 
 name. He is the 3fan of Soi^rows — the companion 
 or brother of grief. — (Is. liii.) His great work, 
 even our salvation, was not more by power or holi- 
 ness than by sorrows. He took our flesh, that He 
 might bear our sorrows. And I have sometimes 
 been humbled to think, that we resemble Christ in 
 nothing so nearly as in suffering. Not in holiness ; 
 alas, how distant the imitation ! Not in wisdom, 
 or devotion, or self-sacrificing love. But sometimes 
 we are allowed to fill up (Coloss. i. 24) "that 
 which is behind of the afflictions of Christ in our 
 flesh" — to drain some dregs of his ocean-cup — to 
 have a faint, suggestive semblance of his pains — in a 
 lesser sense, to be made conformable unto His death. 
 We abjure all Popish notions of penance, self-pun- 
 ishment, sharing mediatorial agonies, adding to in- 
 finite merits. AYe abhor them as constructive blas- 
 phemy; but we cling to the belief, that in the 
 progress of the mystical union, wherein " the head 
 of every man is Christ," there is even here a con- 
 formity between the Head and the members, and 
 that this conformity is partly effected in the House 
 of Mourning. And then mark the consequences : 
 " As the sufferings of Christ abound in us, so our 
 consolation also aboundeth by Christ." " For even 
 
134 THE PRINCETON PULPIT. 
 
 hereunto were ye called, because Christ also suffered 
 for us, leaving us an example that we should follow 
 his steps." " Rejoice, inasmuch as ye are partakers 
 of Christ's sufferings, that when His glory shall be 
 revealed, ye also may be glad with excess of 
 joy." If we suffer with Him, we shall also reign 
 with Him. If continued, or repeated, or unusual 
 trials be your lot, till it become the very habit of 
 your mind to look for every cloud to bring a 
 storm, think it not strange ; be not tossed away 
 from your anchorage ; let faith and hoj^e hold fast ; 
 give God the glory which belongs to His ]3aternal 
 wisdom, and Jesus the reliance which befits His 
 dying compassion ; and know of a surety, that every 
 redoubling wave of grief is definitely adjusted in 
 time and measure, to carry you to that certain ele- 
 vation of joy which could not be reached without it. 
 Deej)ly feel that there is a guidance of unerring 
 wisdom in these particular pains, which makes 
 them the exact remedies for your evils, and the 
 powerful instruments, through grace, of bringing 
 you nearer to the Lord ; and while you tremble, 
 learn to say, " Tlie cup which my Father giveth me, 
 shall I not drink it ?" 
 
 9. Sorroiv is letter than lavcjliter (last of all), 
 hecause sorrow ends in joy. There is a sorrow of 
 the world which worketh death ; there are earthly 
 pangs which are but the beginning of sorrows; 
 there are losses which go on increasing for ever, 
 and chastisements which prepare for judgment. 
 Nevertheless, there are those things in grief which 
 open towards heaven, and those things in the 
 
J. W. ALEXANDER, D.D. 135 
 
 House of jMoiirniug Avliicli the wise man ^\'in lay to 
 Lis lieart ! "Where God gives ftiith, He gives afflic- 
 tion, and sconrgeth every son whom he receiveth ; 
 and these tribulations are parts of the chain which 
 binds the soul to its coming glory. The fiery trial 
 through a furnace is for the pui'ging away of the 
 dross, that there may come forth from the crucible 
 a golden vessel for the Master's use. Nothing can 
 add to our holiness without adding to our eventual 
 joy. How this operates we do not always see ; per- 
 haps seldom. But the i:)rocess is not the less cer- 
 tain. The very resistance of a virtuous • mind to 
 adversity — the bracing of the frame — the breasting 
 of the torrent — the patience, the resignation, the 
 hope amidst the billows, the love that kisses the 
 chastening hand, the persistent obedience that 
 works on against wind and tide — as w^ell in storm 
 as in tranquillity — the high resolve and courac^e 
 that mount more boldly out of the surge of grief, 
 the silent endurance of the timid and the frail, when 
 out of weakness they are made strong — these, and 
 such as these, increase the ca2;)acity for future holi- 
 ness and heavenly bliss. Of those ransomed souls, 
 who open the bosom to the largest delights of Par- 
 adise, it shall be said, " These are they that have 
 come out of great tribulation." Such are not the 
 fruits of laughter and mirth ; nor such the rewards 
 of the unregenerate and the thoughtless. They 
 knew not that their heaven was all in this life, till 
 the short-lived bubble had ex2:)loded. Happy had 
 it been for them, if their occasional sorrows had led 
 them to reflection ; but they were unwise : " The 
 
136 THE PEINOETON PULPIT. 
 
 heart of fools is in the house of mirth." It is a 
 serious reason why we should set a watch against 
 immoderate joy, and the pleasures and pomps of 
 this life ; and why even youth should repress its 
 maddening thirst for perpetual gaiety and volup- 
 tuous self-pleasing. 
 
 We need not court sorrow, nor rush upon it un- 
 bidden; it will come uninvited. But when it 
 comes, we should turn the seeming enemy into a 
 friend ; we should prepare for it — it is inevitable ; 
 we should profit by it — it is edifying. Sad, beyond 
 the common lot, is the case of that man who re- 
 ceives his troubles in hardness of heart, with indif- 
 ference, with sullenness, or with contempt ; who, 
 " being often reproved, hardeneth his neck ;" who 
 sins amidst the murmurs of Divine rebuke, and 
 bares his heart to the bolt of God's anger. No 
 one can come out of a great affliction without being 
 signally better, or greatly worse. It were as well 
 to lau2:h with the idle, as to sit in the seat of the 
 scornful, in the midst of deserved warnings. If 
 anything in life shall swell the dire account of the 
 sinner, it will be his neglected trials and sufferings, 
 every one of which should have been to him a 
 voice from heaven. Trouble after .trouble may 
 come on a man, and leave him less and less impres- 
 sible, but not less guilty. For a while God may 
 even leave him to himself, cease to chastise, and 
 suffer his latter days to be serene in apathy and 
 self-pleasing ; but wisdom hears a voice from the 
 throne, saying, " Why should ye be stricken any 
 more ? ye will revolt yet more and more ! Ephraim 
 
J. W. ALEXANDER, D.D. 137 
 
 is joined to liis idols : let him alone !" He may- 
 be ricli, lie may be envied, lie may say. Soul, take 
 tliine ease, to-morrow sball be as this day, and much 
 more abundant. He may gain the whole world, 
 but he has lost his owti soul ! 
 
 Give me, O God, the sorrows of Thy children, 
 with Thy love, Thy Son, and Thy Heaven, rather 
 than the Mse peace and the hollow prosperity of 
 them whom thou forsakest ! 
 
 But here is a drop of sweetness, from Christ's 
 own hand, let fall into the cup of anguish. Take 
 it, and rejoice ! Has that cup been bitter ? After- 
 ward it yieldeth the peaceable fruit of righteous- 
 ness. Resign yourself to whatever God may 
 appoint, " knowing that through much tribulation 
 you must enter into the kingdom of God." For 
 the first breath of heaven will obliterate every 
 painful remembrance of the longest lifetime of dis- 
 tress. 
 
 10 
 
LOOKING AT THE THINGS WHICH ARE NOT SEEN. 
 
 BY 
 
 THE REV. ALBERT B. DOD, DC, 
 
 PROFESSOR OF MATHEMATICS. 
 
 " While we look not at the things which are seen, but at the things which 
 are not seen : for the things which are seen are temporal 5 but the things 
 which are not seen are eternal." — II. Corinthians, iv. 18. 
 
 In this passage, the Apostle explains to us tlie 
 method by which he succeeded, in so dealing with 
 the trials and afflictions of life, as to make them 
 the means of his spiritual advancement : so that 
 though the outivard man was perisliing^ the inivard 
 man was renewed day hy day. He luas trouhled on 
 every side^ hut not distressed^-perplexed^ hit not iii 
 despair — -persecuted^ hut not forsahen — cast down^ 
 hut not destroyed. He hove ahout in Ms hody 
 the dying of the Lord Jesus ; but it was that 
 the life of Jesus might he made manifest in 
 him. The grievous sufferings of body which he 
 endured ; the falsehood and treachery of friends in 
 whom he had confided ; the persecuting malignity 
 of those, whom he, in the self-denying spirit of love, 
 was seeking to benefit ; the unkind and harsh re- 
 pulses of his offered ministrations of charity ; the de- 
 risions and sneers with which the truths that he 
 
ALBERT B. DOD, D.D. 139 
 
 delivered were received : — ^These, and many other 
 like trials that lie encountered, inflicted upon him 
 severe pain, amounting at times, doubtless, to an- 
 guish ; so much so, that the desolation they wrought 
 is fitly described as the work of death. But it was 
 the death only of the outward man ; and, instead 
 of harmins: that which constituted the inner and 
 central portion of his being — his moral and spirit- 
 ual nature — it only contributed to his life and joy. 
 
 How was it that this Apostle was enabled, thus, 
 to take joyfully these trials which have prostrated 
 others ? How was it that the perishing of his out- 
 ward man was made to renew his inward man day 
 by day ? Where, and how, did he get that strong 
 assurance, that these light a^ictions were working 
 for him a far more exceeding and eternal weiglit of 
 glory f 
 
 How did he acquire this strange mastery over 
 the evils of his lot — this singular power to hold the 
 world in subjection — ^to triumph over temptation — 
 to rejoice in the midst of sorrow — to welcome afflic- 
 tion as the minister to his spiritual good, and to 
 endm-e, through all that could be laid upon him, 
 as seeing Him who is invisible ? 
 
 It was simply by looMng at the things which are 
 not seen^ instead of looking at the things which are 
 seen ; it was by his distinct perception and strong 
 belief of the Truths joined to the habitual contem- 
 plation of it, that he was enabled to rise superior to 
 all that is temporary, transient, and accidental. The 
 things that are not seen were not to him, as they 
 are to too many of us, the barren formulas of a creed 
 
140 THE PRINCETON PULPIT. 
 
 wliicli lie liad been taiiglit to receive — they were 
 not the shadowy abstractions, dim and indistinct, 
 of philosophical speculation, nor the poetic fictions, 
 beautiful if true, of religious sentiment. They were 
 realities, as distinctly perceived, and as certainly 
 believed as if seen with the bodily eye. He did 
 not doubt of their existence. His faith was to him 
 as the evidence of eyesight, bringing to light that 
 which was hidden, giving substance to that which 
 was abstract, and drawing into nearness that which 
 was far oif. A future state of existence, in which 
 the righteous shall be crowned with unspeakable 
 and everlasting glory — instead of being, in his mind, 
 one hyj^othesis among many, superior to the rest 
 only by some slender preponderance of probability 
 in its favor, and therefore received at one time and 
 rejected at another, according to the influence of the 
 changing modes of the mind ujwn the interpreta- 
 tion of evidence — was a truth which he had settled 
 upon grounds which were never more to be dis- 
 turbed, and which, by frequent reflection, had be- 
 come so worked up into his intellectual and moral 
 being that it formed a part of himself, and assisted 
 in constituting the medium through which he looked 
 out upon all the events of his condition and destiny. 
 When he looked upon the death scene of some dear 
 friend, or when he forecast his own dying hour, he 
 was harassed by no misgivings lest death might be, 
 after all, some kind of a leap in the dark — a plunge 
 into some unknown and horrid abyss. " For we 
 hioio^^'' said he, it is no surmise, resting on uncer- 
 tain probabilities — it is no hope, cherished and 
 
ALBEET B. DOD, D.D. 141 
 
 scarce kept calive amid conflicting fears — but " ive 
 hnotL\ tliat if our earthly house of this tabernacle 
 were dissolved, we have a building of God, an house 
 not made with hands, eternal in the heavens." 
 Everywhere in the writings and in the life of that 
 Apostle, we observe this same thoroughness and 
 depth of conviction. There is a sincerity and an 
 earnestness about him which could only have re- 
 sulted in the most intimate persuasion, that he was 
 uttering that which he knew to be true — that he 
 was delivering that the value of which he had him- 
 self tried. It is evident that, in his mind, the gene- 
 ral truths of religion were habitually present to 
 rule the occasions for which they were needed. 
 This material and sensible world, instead of girding 
 him around, like an opaque wall, to intercept every 
 ray of light from beyond itself, was to him trans- 
 lucent, in every part, with the brightness of the 
 sj)iritual universe that surrounds and penetrates it. 
 Things visible were, to his eye, but the accidents 
 and vanishing forms, of which things invisible were 
 the true and abiding realities. 
 
 Any man who can attain to a like simj^licity and 
 strength of faith in an unseen world, vnW acquire 
 a like supremacy over the objects and scenes of this 
 present life. 
 
 But herein lies the difficulty. The greater part 
 of mankind live by sense, and draw their motives 
 of action, not from the remote conclusions of reason, 
 but from their present feeling, from the impres- 
 sions made upon them by the things which they 
 deal and converse with every day. In this lies all 
 
142 THE PEINCETON PULPIT. 
 
 the force and strength of worldly temptations — for, 
 were the things of this world and of another eqnally 
 distinct and near, there could be no competition 
 between them. But the things of this world sport 
 and play before the senses. No man can avoid see- 
 ing them, and feeling, to some extent, their influence ; 
 and many men feel and see nothing else. They are 
 obtrusive, thrusting themselves upon our notice, and 
 offering to us a seeming good which our hearts 
 crave. But the spiritual world is hidden from our 
 vision. It cannot be perceived by sense. It re- 
 quires thought and reflection to find it, and, when 
 found, it can be kept before the mind only by a 
 continual resistance to the temporary impressions 
 to which we are subject. The things of this world 
 have, in this respect, an important advantage, and 
 our moral position is rendered thereby one of ex- 
 treme difiiculty and hazard. 
 
 The spiritual system to which we belong is but 
 partially disclosed to the most patient and earnest 
 seeker. They who know the most of it, know only 
 in part. And in that small part which is open to 
 our survey and comprehension, we find much to 
 perplex and embarrass us. The general idea to 
 which we come, of moral order and the feeling that 
 we ourselves are subject to its requisitions, are so 
 often confounded and set at nought by the anoma- 
 lies and disorders which we see prevailing around 
 us ; there is so much that seems to be fitted to sus" 
 tain and sanction a life that is shaped only in ac- 
 cordance with the demands of passion and the views 
 of wordly prudence ; that we are in continual dan- 
 
ALBERT B. DOD, D.D. 143 
 
 ger of losing sight of the paminoimt nature and 
 claims of general principles, amidst doul^tful in- 
 stances and apparent exceptions. Truth, virtue, 
 justice, and all the general ideas and laws which 
 belong to our moral nature, come thus to be looked 
 upon as fragments of an hypothesis that but partially 
 explains our condition, rather than as expressions of 
 the true reality ; and they fail, therefore, to obtain 
 such a practical hold upon our feelings as is needful 
 for our sure and steady guidance. We find it diffi- 
 cult to retain at all times and through all tempta- 
 tions, such a conviction of their reality and import- 
 ance as to make us conform our conduct to them. 
 
 The man who is tempted to increase his -wealth 
 by some fraudulent act, which he imagines he may 
 safely commit, yields to the temptation because of 
 his want of faith in honesty as a real principle of 
 action. He is sure of the wealth that he will gain, 
 he is sure of the good wdiich this wealth w^ill j^ro- 
 cure him, but he is not sure that the notion of 
 honesty is anything more than a mere notion, or a 
 convenient hypothesis that may be dispensed with 
 on pressing occasions ; or, at best, it is involved in 
 so much of doubt and uncertainty, that it yields to 
 the more palpable existence and claims of the 
 things that are seen. If he truly believed in the 
 law of honesty, he would feel that he could never 
 violate this law without incurring loss and damage 
 that would infinitely outweigh the temporary and 
 partial benefit of trangression. But, to the eye of 
 sense, the benefit is near and certain — the loss is 
 distant and doubtful ; and, through the want or the 
 
144 THE PEINCETON PULPIT. 
 
 weakness of faith, tliat which is seen prevails over 
 that which is not seen. 
 
 So, too, in every instance in which men act under 
 the influence of views and motives that leave out 
 of account a future state of being, they disclose the 
 feebleness of their faith in another world. If it be 
 true that the soul of man is immortal, and that it is 
 now undergoing a process of discipline to fit it for 
 its eternal state, then nothing can be clearer than 
 that the whole importance of this life is derived 
 from its relation to the life that is to come. All 
 things here are but means to the attainment of the 
 true ends of our being ; and all schemes and plans? 
 all desii'es and affections, that terminate in the pre- 
 sent life, without due reference and subordination 
 to our immortality, are founded upon an untrue 
 estimate of our condition. They involve, of neces- 
 sity, a wrong judgment of the understanding, and 
 impeach the soundness of the intellect no less than 
 the purity of the heart. 
 
 Doubtless, it was possible that God could have 
 so made and placed us, that we should have been 
 delivered from the blindness and uncertainty which 
 now beset our conclusions on moral subjects. We 
 can conceive that, without any enlargement or mo- 
 dification of our present faculties, we might have 
 been permitted to hold intercourse with other 
 moral beings who have had a larger exj^erience 
 than ours, and enjoyed a closer intimacy with the 
 principles and purposes of the Divine governments. 
 The millions of spiritual creatures that walk the 
 earth unseen, might have been commissioned to 
 
ALBERT B. DOD, D.D. 145 
 
 manifest tliemselves unto us, and strengtlien our 
 faith by the communication of theirs. The govern- 
 ment of God might have been laid bare so widely 
 and fully to our inspection, and the consequences of 
 every action, whether for good or evil, so clearly 
 shown, that it would have been impossible for any 
 mind to throw off the conviction of the invariable 
 obligations of virtue and the folly of vice ; such 
 light might have been poured around us, such reve- 
 lations made of things not now seen, as would at 
 once supersede many of our greatest difficulties and 
 put an end to our fickle vibrations from one side to 
 the other. We see no reason why such disclosures 
 of truth might not be made even here as would be 
 sufficient to confirm the falterino; virtue of all who 
 love the truth, and throw ofi' those that hate it into 
 irreconcilable and deadly opposition. 
 
 But whether possible or not, such is not our 
 actual lot, nor would such an unrestrained and over- 
 whelming revelation consist with the obvious pur- 
 pose of God in relation to us. It is evident that 
 our present state was intended to be one of trial 
 and discipline ; and it appears to be, so far as we 
 can judge, essential to such a state that there should 
 be so much reserve as to leave room for the conflict 
 of antagonist principles. The infidel has asked 
 with a sneer, " Has God spoken ? Then why has 
 not man believed ?" As if the possibility of disbe- 
 lief were a proof that the voice could not have 
 come from God. But what if it were not the purpose 
 of God so to speak as to compel the attention of 
 those who are unwilling to hear ? Had He broken 
 
146 THE PEINCETON PULPIT. 
 
 in upon the stillness of this netlier world in a voice 
 of thunder, compelling every man to hear and re- 
 gard, it would have frustrated the design with 
 which He has placed us here. Instead of this. He 
 has spoken in a voice so distinct, that all who listen 
 earnestly for it, may hear and understand ; but so 
 still, that men may, if they choose, close their ears 
 to its teachings. We are left to choose whether 
 we will believe or disbelieve. The popular notion 
 that belief is independent of the will, and, there- 
 fore, not a proper ground for praise or blame, is so 
 far from being true, that, on the contrary, that 
 which it is most important for us to believe is that 
 which we need not believe, unless we are willing to 
 do so. Whosoever will, may acquaint himself with 
 the truth ; but neither reason nor revelation forces 
 it upon the notice or acceptance of any one who 
 is reluctant to find, or unwilling to receive it. 
 Thins^s eternal are so far revealed as to manifest 
 themselves to the eye that freely seeks and 
 fixes upon them, while they are unseen by all 
 who choose to turn away and pass on in heedless 
 disregard. Vice is often so disguised in the shape 
 of virtue, and error counterfeits so nearly the sem- 
 blance of truth, that the one may be easily mis- 
 taken for the other. 
 
 Such is our actual position : and it is worse than 
 useless to rej^ine or murmur under its privations and 
 hardships. We are shut up here as prisoners in a 
 small part of God's dominions ; and, though light 
 from beyond steals in through here and there a 
 window of our prison-house, it does not come with 
 
ALBERT B. DOD, D.D. 147 
 
 sucli noon-d;iy l)laze as to obscure at all times tlie 
 taper-liglits of our own kindling ; it does not enter 
 in all directions — it does not disclose to us fully all 
 that we desire to know. But if we will receive freely 
 and gladly its mild beams, and train our eyes long 
 and steadily to its use, we can learn to see clearly all 
 that it is necessary for us to know ; and if, on the 
 other hand, we turn away in proud dissatisfaction 
 from the openings through which this light enters, 
 and waste our strength in important attempts to 
 break at other points through the dark walls by 
 which w^e are bound in, or if we only casually and 
 carelessly attend to it, as it seems to flash now 
 and then before us, we shall soon become altogether 
 incapable of perceiving it. False lights will shed, 
 their glare around us, and so illuminate the gaudy 
 pomps and trickeries by which we are surrounded 
 — so magnify the false attractions and urgent inte- 
 rests of the passing moment, that our prison will 
 become to us as our home. The things that are 
 seen, though they are but temporal, will become to 
 us more important than the eternal things w^hich 
 are unseen. The facility with which we can so 
 dispose of the convictions of reason and conscience 
 as to permit ourselves, without the most j)ungent 
 remorse, to live on the indulgence of an undue re- 
 gard for the things of this world, — the ease wdth 
 which we can turn the light that is within us, into 
 darkness, and call good, evil, and evil, good, — is 
 one of the most alarming features of our depravity. 
 It would seem impossible that any thoughtful mind 
 could reflect upon this peculiarity of its nature, 
 
148 THE PKINCETON PULPIT. 
 
 without being startled into instant prayer to God, 
 accompanied witli tlie most patient and earnest 
 seeking after truth. It is only thus that we can 
 hope to attain right views of our condition, and of 
 those truths that are to rule our destiny. 
 
 It needs no argument to prove that the great 
 majority of men act habitually under the influence 
 of erroneous judgments. They attribute a fixedness 
 and value to the things of this life that do not really 
 belong to them. They hold the great moral truths, 
 by which the soul of man ought to live, so loosely 
 that they give way continually to the clamorous 
 demands of passion and interest. Looking only, or 
 chiefly at the things that are seen, their standards 
 of judgment are commensurate only with the wants 
 of a temporal life, and are, therefore, essentially de- 
 fective and false. Their habitual interests are the 
 product, not of truth, but of fancy, and the scenes 
 which surround them are as unreal as the phanta- 
 sies of a dream. Their lives are a vain show. It is 
 true that there is a material world — the visible ob- 
 jects before us have a real existence ; there is such 
 a thing as wealth, and worldly honour and human 
 applause ; there is love and friendship, the domes- 
 tic fireside, and the warm household aff'ections that 
 grow up beside it, literature and science, and a 
 thousand other objects of desire and sources of 
 pleasure. We do not call in question the real ex- 
 istence of these things that are seen. But what are 
 they ? What it their intrinsic nature ? What is 
 their true value ? Here the men of this world fall 
 into grevious error and delusion. The world, in its 
 
ALBERT B. DOD, D.D. 149 
 
 largest sense, as comprising all the objects whicli 
 here appeal to our desires and aftections, is to us 
 whatever our judgment of it makes it to be. And 
 the judgment which the majority of men form of it 
 is radically false. They world is not, in truth, what 
 they take it for. It stands before them clothed with 
 a light, and endowed with qualities which do not 
 really belong to it. They commit an error like that 
 of the child who leaps up to grasp the rainbow. 
 There is a rainbow, but it is not what he supposes 
 it to be. And so the things that are seen, in the 
 shapes that they assume before the minds of men, as 
 objects of desire, and motives to action, do not 
 really exist. Their conceptions of them are not 
 framed in accordance with theii' true nature and 
 qualities, and the judgments founded upon these 
 conceptions are all more or less unsound. He who 
 thus spreads abroad the colors of his own fancy, 
 and who looks habitually at things temporal and 
 finite out of their relations to that which is eternal 
 and infinite, can only have a knowledge about as 
 approximate to the reality, as that which belongs 
 to the animalculae to whom the dew drop is an 
 ocean, We can have no true knowledge of our- 
 selves unless we study ourselves in our relation to 
 God. We can never know wdiat this world truly 
 is, unless we look at it in its connexion with the 
 world that is to come. 
 
 The necessity of the diligent study and contem- 
 plation of the truths that connect us with another 
 world, is estimated by the Apostle when he says, 
 " we hole at the things that are not seen." The 
 
150 THE PRINCETON" PULPIT. 
 
 original word implies deep and careful considera- 
 tion. It is the same word tliat is used by our Sa- 
 viour when he delivers the solemn injunction, " looh^'' 
 or take lieecl " that the light that is within thee be 
 not darkness." If we bestow only casual and hur- 
 ried glances upon the things that are not seen, in 
 the intervals of our zealous pursuit after the things 
 that are seen, we assuredly shall never obtain such 
 a knowledge and belief of them as will enable us 
 to use them for practical purposes. We cannot 
 snatch the meaning of these high truths by such 
 random and careless efforts. We must look long 
 and fixedly upon them before we can penetrate 
 their essence, and so saturate our souls with their 
 meaning, as to make them effective in regulating 
 our feelings and our conduct. In proportion to the 
 distinctness and fulness of the knowledge which we 
 acquire of religious truth, will be the strength of 
 our faith, and the degree of influence which it will 
 exert over us. We cannot be said properly to un- 
 derstand any moral truth unless we feel it, nor can 
 we understand or feel unless we believe. The be- 
 lief, the knowledge, and the practical effect of any 
 moral truth or principle, are co-extensive, and any 
 one of them may be taken as the strict measure of 
 the others. And here we see the indispensable 
 necessity of regeneration through the influence of 
 the Holy Spirit. Without a new heart we are in- 
 capable of the actual intuition of truth, because we 
 are destitute of the holy affections through which 
 alone it can be comprehended. No exercise of the 
 mere reasoning intellect can ever give us a correct 
 
ALBEKT B. DOD, D.D. 151 
 
 appreliension of moral qualities and trutlis. Our 
 consciousness is liere, as in other things, tlie master 
 light of all our seeing. Unless our own experience 
 has taught us the meaning of holy love, how can 
 we frame any adequate conception of God, who is 
 love ? And how can we understand any moral 
 truth unless our own feelings have been such as to. 
 illustrate its meaning ? It is one of the prerogatives 
 of the truths of revelation, that the principle of 
 knowledge is likewise a spring and principle of ac- 
 tion. It necessarily implies a right moral state of 
 heart. 
 
 Without a regenerate heart men believe in the 
 truths of the Bible, only as they believe in the 
 beauties of a fine country through which they tra- 
 vel in darkness. They may believe from the de- 
 scription and testimony of others that they are sur- 
 rounded by the most lovely scenery, but their no- 
 tions of it are too vao^ue and indistinct to awaken 
 the emotion that attends the actual inspection of 
 beauty, until the rising sun has revealed to them 
 the varied richness of the scene that encircles them. 
 So it is with the truths of Scripture. The natural 
 man comprehendeth them not, for they are spirit- 
 ually discerned. There is a vail upon the unrege- 
 nerate heart throuo^h which it sees not at all, or 
 only with a dim and uncertain ^dsion like his to 
 whom men seemed like trees walking. But let the 
 day-star arise, let Him who caused the light to 
 shine out of darkness, shine into his heart; and 
 the truths that were but darkly perceived, brighten 
 at once into new light. He professed before to be- 
 
152 THE PKINCETON PULPIT. 
 
 lieve in tlie existence and attributes of God, but 
 this truth now bursts upon liim in a ricliness and 
 fulness of meaning of wliicli lie bad bad no previous 
 conception ; and be feels tbat to know God is to 
 love bim. He professed before to believe tbat 
 Jesus Cbrist bad died to redeem jis from deatb, 
 but now be sees tbe grace and glory of tbe Sa^dour 
 in sucb a ligbt as makes bim feel tbe surprise of a 
 new discovery amid tbe trutbs of man's redemp- 
 tion. 
 
 It is in tbe new birtb tbat we must seek tbe com- 
 mencement of all true knowledge of spiritual tbings. 
 We enforce tben tbis primary lesson of Cbristianity, 
 " ye must be born again," as an indispensable pre- 
 requisite to any adequate or effective consideration 
 of tbe tbings tbat are not seen. And tbis new 
 birtb is to be sougbt by prayer and by tbe diligent 
 use of all tbe means of grace witb wbicb God bas 
 favored us, not forgetting as cbief and foremost 
 among tbese, tbe study of divine revelation. Tbougb 
 tbe natural man comprebendetb not tbe tbings of 
 tbe Spirit, yet tbe outward forms of trutb, witb 
 sucb glimpses of tbeir interior meaning as be can 
 gain, are not witbout tbeir value. Tbere is a reality 
 and power in tbe teachings of tbe Bible, addressed 
 to tbe natural conscience witb tbe authority of 
 " thus saith tbe Lord," wbicb tend to scatter the 
 visions of tbat vain and deceitful show which exists 
 only in tbe deluded imagination, yet from which 
 sin draws its cbief enticements. Any man who will 
 give himself to fervent prayer and tbe earnest study 
 of God's holy word, has every reason to believe tbat 
 
ALBEKT E. DOD,D.D. 153 
 
 God will break the cliains of his bondage, and scat- 
 ter the darkness which broods over him, and lead 
 him forth to walk in the liberty of the sons of God, 
 and exult in the open daylight of eternity. 
 
 But regeneration is only the commencement of 
 our spiritual life. The work is but begun which, 
 in dependence upon Di\4ne Grace, we are to carry 
 on to completion. We have a hard struggle to 
 maintain in our conflict with the things that are 
 seen and temporal ; in our liability to be overtaken 
 by erroneous judgments, arising out of a limited 
 and partial view of our condition, and thus to be 
 surprised into a forgetfulness of our deliberate con- 
 victions. We can guard against this danger only 
 by looking steadfastly at the things that are not 
 seen. The more we contemplate them, the more 
 will we understand of their nature and value, the 
 firmer will become our belief in them, and the more 
 influence will they exert in the control of our feel- 
 ings and conduct. Faith cannot go beyond know- 
 ledge, and the life cannot be stable beyond the 
 power of faith. If our comprehension of truth is 
 imperfect or erroneous, in like degree will our faith 
 be weak and fluctuating, and our walk uncertain 
 and inconsistent;' and our knowledge of truth — 
 taking for granted the continual presence in the 
 mind of a sense of dependence upon God, which 
 will be manifested in prayer for di\ane aid, and a 
 right state of the affections, without which we can 
 learn nothing — will be in proportion to the degree 
 in which we devote ourselves to the earnest con- 
 templation of the things that are not seen. 
 11 
 
15-i THE PEINCETOlSr PULPIT. 
 
 How many Cliristians are tliere wlio have never 
 yet 23ondered tliese things sufficiently to enable 
 them to see them, except with such dimness and 
 distortion that they walk with timid and halting 
 step — they fight uncertainly, as one beating the 
 air ! How many who understand so little of the 
 true nature of the things that are seen, that they 
 look upon wealth, elevated station, and worldly 
 pleasure as good and desirable possessions in them- 
 selves, not knowing, or forgetting, that every view 
 of these things which does not take in their relation 
 to eternal realities, is nothing more than a delusive 
 trick of the imagination. 
 
 How many whose formal faith is correct, but 
 whose real belief, as proved by the main current of 
 their feelings, and the ordinary tenor of their walk 
 and conversation, attaches a degree of magnitude 
 and interest to worldly things, that is altogether 
 inconsistent with their just appreciation ! 
 
 We cannot doubt that there are many Christians 
 who separate between the material and the spiritual 
 world, for the purpose of attributing to each a 
 kind of distinct and independent existence, each 
 containing its own treasures and furnishing its own 
 motives to action. On the one side lies this world, 
 governed by invariable laws, and, to their view, 
 complete in itself; and, therefore, fitly entered upon 
 and pursued with principles and dispositions that 
 have their origin and their end within its bounda- 
 ries. And, on the other hand, they believe in a 
 spiritual world, not encircling and absorbing this, 
 but existing separate and remote from it, and touch- 
 
ALBEIIT B. DOl), D.D. 155 
 
 ing upon tlie present order of things only at parti- 
 cular points, and by anomalons interpositions. 
 Hence worldly affairs are one tiling, and religion 
 quite a different one. Each stands by itself. The 
 spiritual system, instead of interposing itself en- 
 tirely through the objects and interests of the pre- 
 sent state, is seen in connection with them only on 
 special occasions. It is a thing of Sabbaths, of 
 divine worship, of the formal discharge of religions 
 duties, of seasons of deep affliction, or of such other 
 particular exigencies as seem to call for the decen- 
 cies and consolations which belono^ to it. It is this 
 meagre knowledge, and, of course, weak faith, 
 which produces that kind of religion which permits 
 men to press forward on the busy paths of this 
 world, with as much bustling and earnest anxiety 
 as if all their treasures were to be found here, and 
 which brings the things of another world to bear 
 upon them only with sufficient distinctness and 
 force to overcloud their hours of reflection, and lay 
 upon them the occasional sorrows of repentance. 
 
 Our religion cannot but partake very much 
 of this character, unless we reflect much upon 
 divine truth. It is no doubt true that the spiritual 
 world encompasses us on every side, so that if our 
 souls should now escape from our bodies, like the 
 bird breaking through the shell which had shut it 
 in, we should at once find ourselves breathing the 
 air of immortality, and looking upon the face of 
 God. It is true that every object here can be pro- 
 perly defined or understood only through its rela- 
 tion to our spiritual interests. It is true that the 
 
156 THE PPwINCETOTT PULPIT. 
 
 sound and din of worldly things, tlie glare and 
 pomp in wliicli they flash before us, are but the 
 unrealities of a distempered imagination. But how 
 can we attain the conviction of these truths in any 
 other way than by frequent reflection upon them ? 
 The great interests and permanent realities by 
 which we ought to be actuated, are not visibly and 
 tangibly present to us like the scenes of our pass- 
 ing life, and we have no other means of making 
 them present than by deliberate, oft-repeated re- 
 flection upon them. 
 
 No man can pursue any great interest in which 
 important consequences are at stake, without a 
 profound and thoughtful intentness of mind upon 
 his end, and upon the means by which he is seek- 
 ing to attain it. How especially true must this be 
 in regard to the great interests of religion and 
 eternity ! How can we hope, amid the entangle- 
 ments and difficulties that beset us, to make any 
 real progress in the establishment of a character 
 fashioned after the ideas and laws of an unseen 
 world, without a fixed and habitual thoughtfulness 
 — a thoughtfulness that will never permit us to 
 forget, for any length of time, our true position, or 
 to lose the consciousness of our relation to more 
 glorious beings, and higher interests, than are to be 
 found upon the earth. This must be our habit, — 
 something more than an occasional musing and 
 reverie, at set times, when we force ourselves to the 
 task. It must be the uniform condition of the 
 mind. Through the prevalence of such a pre- 
 dominant habit of thoughtful attention to divine 
 
ALBERT B. DOD, D.D. 157 
 
 tilings, we may acquire a paramount interest in the 
 truth, and incorporate it into tlie frame and con- 
 stitution of our souls ; so tliat while we are eulare- 
 mg our apprehension of God, his providence, and 
 his purposes, we shall at the same time so work our 
 conceptions into the substance of our intellectual 
 constitution, as to make them the very medium of 
 our vision, the pervading and actuating motives of 
 our lives. Eeligion will thus become to us the 
 one present thought, motive, and impulse — the one 
 great light by the reflection of which all things 
 will be seen and judged. Then will our tempta- 
 tions be conquered in the strength of that faith 
 which is the substance of things hoped for, and the 
 evidence of things not seen. Then will our repin- 
 ings of heart, under the hardships and losses to 
 which we are here exposed, be exchanged for joy 
 in view of our coming glory. Then, when envi- 
 roned with difficulties and dangers which hem 
 us in on every side, instead of crying out, with 
 the servant of the prophet, " Alas ! my Master ! 
 what shall we do?" our eyes will be opened 
 to see the horses and chariots of fire that are 
 about us, and we shall feel secure in the per- 
 suasion that they that be with us are more than 
 they that be against us. Then shall we feel that 
 we are running our race, not obscurely, but com- 
 passed about with a great cloud of witnesses, — 
 by patriarchs, prophets, apostles, and martyrs ; by 
 all the spirits of the just made perfect ; by the 
 dear friends who have gone before us to heaven ; 
 by angels, principalities, and powers ; and, above 
 
158 THE PEINCETON PULPIT. 
 
 all, by the great Captain of our salvation, wlio was 
 himself made perfect, through sufferings, and who 
 is ever near to encourage and to help us. Then 
 shall we lay aside every weight, and the sin that 
 doth so easily beset us, and run witli patience the race 
 that is set before us, looking unto Jesus the Author 
 and Finisher of our faith, who, for the joy that was 
 set before him, endured the cross, despising the 
 shame, and is set down at the right hand of the 
 throne of God. Heaven, which we are too much 
 disposed to throw far off, will then draw nigh us 
 and lie around us, and come into contact with the 
 affairs and feelings of every day, and give us songs 
 in the nisrht, and lisfht in the hour of darkness, and 
 rob us of our sorrows by putting us in possession 
 of its joys. 
 
 Brethren, these things are not pictures: I be- 
 lieve, in my soul, that they are realities — that they 
 are the only abiding realities ; and, what is infinitely 
 more important than my belief or any other man's, 
 God, with whom alone is certain knowledge — who 
 is himself, in his self-subsistence and eternity, the 
 only permanent basis of reality — has revealed them 
 to us as the only certainties to which we can trust. 
 Nothing else possesses the worth which it seems to 
 have, and all things else are unstable and frail. 
 Wealth takes to itself wings and flies away ; popu- 
 lar applause depends upon popular caprice ; the 
 pleasures of domestic affection lie at the mercy of 
 death ; all things visible change while we are look- 
 ing upon them, and we ourselves are passing away 
 — " Man dieth and goeth to his long home, and the 
 
ALBERT B. DOD, D.D. 159 
 
 mourners go about the streets ;" whole generations 
 of men sweep over the face of the earth, like the 
 shadow of the fast-sailing cloud flying over the 
 plain ; the earth itself and the heavens, so real and 
 solid seeming, are growing old, and shall soon reel 
 to and fro like a drunkard, and he utterly broken 
 down and clean dissolved. But throu^ch all these 
 commotions and changes among the things that are 
 seen — the surging, ever-shifting phenomena of time 
 and sense ; through the fires of the last day, the 
 things that are unseen pass unchanged, and there 
 they stand upon the high table-land of eternity, like 
 him who is himself their sum and substance, with- 
 out variableness or shadow of turning, " the same 
 yesterday, to-day, and for ever." 
 
 Blessed, thrice blessed are they who are now 
 steadfastly looking at these things. How much, on 
 the contrary, are they to be pitied who are living 
 only for the things that are seen, unmindful of the 
 destruction that lieth in wait for them ! Pilo-rims 
 of the earth ! heirs of immortality ! can ye not be 
 made to see that ye are spending your strength for 
 that which is not bread, and laboring for that which 
 satisfieth not ? Oh, that ye could gain somewhat 
 of that view mth which ye will look back from be- 
 yond the vail, upon these transitory scenes that now 
 fix your chief regard ! Oh, how will ye then curse 
 that gold and honour, and sinful pleasure, of which 
 there will then remain only the memory to eat like 
 fire into the soul ! 
 
 Yes, Christian brethren, though ye can now see 
 only as through a glass darkly, yet these imperfect 
 
160 THE PKINCETON PULPIT. 
 
 glimpses of eternal tilings are more worth to you 
 than all beside. The visions, in which the mystic 
 ladder is set from earth to heaven, comprise the 
 real truths of our condition ; and its dreamy illu- 
 sions are the trusted views of its waking sense. Let 
 us labor, then, with due diligence and prayer, with 
 much inward reflection and study of God's holy 
 word, that we may ever keep this world before our 
 minds in its just relation to the world to come ; and 
 if prone to murmur under the meagreness of our 
 knowledge and the weakness of our faith, let our 
 conscious sense of disparity between the possibili- 
 ties and the actual achievements of our lot lead us 
 to look forward to the grave as the portal through 
 which we are to pass from this outward vestibule 
 through the inner veil, where we shall look, with 
 the open intuition of a free spirit, upon that glory 
 which now only dimly reveals itself to us through 
 the opaque symbols by which we are here sur- 
 rounded. Towards that day, which is to succeed 
 the long night of our restless, feverish tossings, let 
 us bend and look forward,' like those that watch 
 for the morning. Blessed day ! when we shall see 
 as we are seen, and know as we are known ! 
 
THE CHRISTIAN PHILOSOPHY OF REVOLUTION. 
 
 THE REV. M. B. HOPE, D.D., 
 
 PB0FE8S0E OF KlIETORIC. 
 
 " Thus saith the Lord God ; remove the diadem and take off the crown : 
 this shall not be the same : exalt him that is low, and abase him that is 
 high. I will overturn, overturn, overturn it : and it shall be no more, 
 until he come whose right it is ; and I will give it him."— Ezek. xxi : 26, 27. 
 
 The true pliilosopliical history of man, is tliat 
 wliicli reveals to us tlie causes and progress, first, 
 of his depravity and deterioration ; and secondly, of 
 his return towards that state of holiness and hap- 
 piness which he is destined, in the purpose of God, 
 and through the agency of the gospel, again to at- 
 tain. Such a history is yet to be written. The 
 attempts to evolve the philosophy of history, have 
 been, for the most part, vitiated, by the assump- 
 aon, derived from the pagan classics, that the civi- 
 lization of the human race began in a condition of 
 the lowest barbarism. There never was a more 
 superficial or unfounded hypothesis, than that 
 which ascribes the evolutions of human history, to 
 a law of progressive development, inherent in the 
 
162 THE PRINCETON PULPIT. 
 
 human constitution. No plausible foundation for 
 such a law can be found, except by an induction of 
 facts, the most partial and inconclusive. In any 
 complete survey of history, the facts which contra- 
 dict such a law, are quite as numerous as those 
 which support it. The great majority of the hu- 
 man race at any given time has been clearly either 
 retrogradiug, or else stationary ; while the progres- 
 sive portion has been the merest fraction of the 
 whole. And, farther, the progressive feature of 
 that portioD, has always been due, not to a blind, 
 inherent law, but to some external agency, actiug 
 upon it from without, and in accordance with a 
 plan extrinsic to itself If the actual historic pro- 
 gress of the race were due to an intrinsic law, it 
 ought, like all the laws of nature, to be constant in 
 its tendencies, and uniform in its results. What 
 then, it may be asked, becomes of this law of de- 
 velopment, in the case of the Greeks since the days 
 of Alexander, of the Romans since the time of Au- 
 gustus, or of the Spaniards since the days of Ferdi- 
 nand. 
 
 It is notorious, that so far from this assumed law 
 of progress being the true expression of the facts 
 the progression which the history of the race exhi- 
 bits, has been in cycles, and not in straight lines. 
 In accordance with the principle announced by the 
 prophet of Jehovah to the profane and wicked 
 Prince of Israel, it has been a process of revolution 
 and not of development. It involves the law of de- 
 clension and decay, as much as that of quickening 
 and growth. It is a vital, not a mechanical, — a 
 
M. B. HOPE, D.D. 163 
 
 moral, not a ])liysical, process. It proceeds upon a 
 plan indeed ; but it is a plan exterior to the great 
 collective mind of humanity. It is a development 
 in tlie scheme of Divine Providence, with reference 
 to the destiny of man ; and not the mere unfolding 
 of caj^abilities inherent in unaided human nature. 
 
 It is imj^ossible to comprehend aright the nature 
 of that plan of human affairs, which it is the pro- 
 vince of history to reveal, without a just apprehen- 
 sion of the moral truths which it involves, and on 
 which it proceeds. 
 
 And in the first place, the origin of the human 
 race was not from a state of barbarism, but one of 
 absolute perfection ; and the first change which 
 passed upon human nature, was that by which it 
 fell into degeneracy, by reason of temptation from 
 without. Social hap2:)iness was blighted and per- 
 ished in the bud. The very first offspring of the 
 social state, instead of love, sympathy, and mutual 
 support, were, first, envy, then hatred, and lastly 
 murder. Alienation and division, thus became at 
 once, the universal law of society. And it is eYi- 
 dent the race must have soon become extinct, or 
 else 2")roduced a terrestrial pandemonium, if God 
 had not determined to redeem it ; and applied the 
 antidote to check, at least in part, the fatal work- 
 ings of the poison. 
 
 From the moment of the announcement of that 
 determination, began the great conflict of hu- 
 manity, — the conflict between the two principles 
 of sin and grace : the universal prevalence of the 
 one tending to corrupt and ruin the race, the other, 
 
164 THE PKINCETON PULPIT. 
 
 under tlie special agency of God himself, struggling 
 and destined to purify and redeem it. The his- 
 tory of this conflict, is the true history of man. It 
 is not the rise and fall of nations, — it is not the 
 growth and decay of institutions, domestic, social or 
 political, — it is not the arts of war or peace ; — it is 
 the inward life of the race, — the changes in human 
 nature, which all these indicate, from holiness to 
 sin, and from sin to holiness, — it is the restoration 
 of humanity to the image and favour of God, and 
 the wonderful developments of God's pro\4dence 
 to accomplish this result, in the different nations, 
 ages and dispensations of history, that the Chris- 
 tian philosopher regards with most absorbing in- 
 terest, and seeks to disengage from the tangled plot 
 of human events. 
 
 Our limits and our special aim, forbid us to enter 
 into any particular illustration, or proof, of the 
 leading principles we propose to aj^ply to the solu- 
 tion of the startling events of our age. We must 
 be content with their simple statement ; leaving it 
 to the knowledge of om- hearers, to confirm or to set 
 them aside. 
 
 And in the first place, the earliest ages of the 
 world after the fall, when the light of revealed 
 truth was dimmest, and th^ reign of grace most fee- 
 ble, were marked by a rapid degeneration, physi- 
 cal, intellectual, and moral, in the nature, the char- 
 acter, and the condition of man. The poison of sin 
 worked, till it shortened human life from almost a 
 thousand years, to three score and ten, — till the 
 perception of truth was almost extinguished, and 
 
31. B. HOPE, D.D. 165 
 
 men, even the most civilized and enlightened, be- 
 came debased enough to humble themselves in reli- 
 gious worship, before beasts and creeping things ; 
 and until their moral nature was so corrupted, that 
 virtue and religion were preserved alive upon the 
 earth, only by the special interposition of God him- 
 self. Twice, in different forms, was this expedient 
 resorted to, — thus making and closing respectively 
 two great epochs of history : — first, in the selection 
 and divine preservation of the single family of 
 Noah ; and, secondly, when the rej)eopled earth 
 had lapsed into universal corruption and idolatry, 
 by selecting a faithful branch from the dominant 
 race of the age, and organizing it under theocratic 
 institutions, subject to his own immediate control. 
 This single nation which was destined to multiply 
 into a great and powerful people, and isolated from 
 the other divisions of the race, was to serve as the 
 depository of truth and religion, while the work 
 of overturning and overturning went on among 
 the other nations of the earth, until he should 
 come, whose right it was to assume the sceptre, and 
 found upon their ruins a dispensation, which shall 
 terminate these countless overturnings, by the re- 
 demption of the world ; and thus consummate the 
 perfection of humanity on earth, and blend with it 
 the glory of the God of Providence and grace. 
 
 In the second place, when the power of sin was 
 checked by larger gifts of gracious influence, the 
 power of divine truth became diffusive, and entered 
 upon its aggressive work, in the achievement of 
 man's regeneration ; and has continued to the pre- 
 
166 THE PEIXCETOlSr PULPIT. 
 
 sent liour, progressive : and judging from tlie his- 
 tory of tlie past, and tlie cliaracteristics of the 
 present, as well as the jiroplietic delineation of the 
 future, it will continue steadily progressive, till its 
 final and perfect consummation. 
 
 By man's regeneration we mean his entire and 
 complete regeneration, moral and intellectual, indi- 
 vidual and social. The proofs of his past progress 
 in all these respects, are as numerous as the inci- 
 dents which make up his history. And yet it is 
 ol)\aous that no form of civilization yet reached, 
 even by the most favoured nations of Christendom, 
 can be accepted as even an approximate embodi- 
 ment of that stage of human perfection which the 
 race is destined to reach. Pervading and compre- 
 hensive as the historical agencies of the past have 
 been, it is clear they are destined to be vastly more 
 pervading and comprehensive still, before the 
 period can arrive, when the Apocalyptic angel 
 shall proclaim that the kingdoms of this world 
 have become the kingdoms of our Lord and of his 
 Christ. 
 
 In the third place, the great agent by which this 
 progress has been carried forward, is that of revo- 
 lution, or that of overturning, overturning, over- 
 turning, till he shall come whose right it is to wear 
 the crown of universal dominion, amidst the re- 
 deemed race of man. 
 
 In any comprehensive survey of the subject, the 
 central epoch of human history, is the advent of 
 the Son of God. Everything anterior to that 
 event, pointed to the incarnation as embracing the 
 
M. B. HOPE, D. D. 1G7 
 
 fulness of its significancy, and every thing subse- 
 quent derives its vitality and power from the same 
 source. The revolutionary incidents of the ages 
 preceding, had for their function to pre2:)are the 
 world for the coming of Christ ; those succeeding, 
 are charged with the business of consummating the 
 great object which brought the Son of God into 
 the world, as the source and head of a new spiritual 
 seed, that will ultimately absorb in its ever widen- 
 ing sweep, the entire and ransomed races of Adam. 
 
 However difficult it may be to trace, with philo- 
 sophic accuracy, the precise relations of the great 
 master epochs of the early periods of history, there 
 can no longer be a doubt of their reality. To the 
 eye of the Christian, and in the light of the Bible, 
 those vast and sublime overturnings which reared 
 and overthrew, successively, the gigantic empires 
 of Egypt, Assyria, Persia, and Macedon, to say 
 nothing of countless smaller states, which concen- 
 trated the intellect, the genius and the cultivation 
 of the world in the States of Greece, and finally 
 enthroned Rome as sole mistress of the earth, these 
 all appear as mighty and indispensable agencies, 
 commissioned of God, to produce that mental cul- 
 ture that feeling of strong unsatisfied religious 
 want, and that state of universal peace, which were 
 essential to prepare the world for the advent of the 
 Son of God. 
 
 The progress of the race to this result, w^as not 
 by steady, uninterrupted marches ; it has not been 
 the mere evolution of a subjective law of progres- 
 sion : it has been by a succession of overturnings, 
 
168 THE PKINCETON PULPIT. 
 
 in whicli one nation after another has been throTVTi 
 into the ascendant, for the obvious purpose, in each 
 case, of working out some great problem of human 
 welfare, or carrying to its utmost height, some sin- 
 gle branch of human culture. Thus in the lan- 
 guage of the prevailing school of historical philoso- 
 phers, the dispensation of the Greeks was the 
 aesthetic culture of humanity. No age of human 
 improvement ever has excelled, or ever will excel, 
 the arts of Greece. Even their philosophy and 
 their morality were drawn from the same source, in 
 the sensibilities of the soul, instead of being 
 founded upon the objective truths of any divine 
 revelation. They have settled the point for all 
 coming time, that art however lofty and spiritual, 
 cannot answer the ends, or take the place of reli- 
 gion as the true ulterior object of individual cul- 
 ture and still less as the life principle of a perma- 
 nent or universal civilization. 
 
 So Rome was commissioned to work out a system 
 of jurisprudence and muncipal law, for the human 
 race ; to conquer the barbarism of the world, and 
 then to clothe its naked forms with the institutions 
 of an intellectual civilization. Her mission was to 
 prepare the world for the incarnation of the Son 
 of God, who was to found upon the boundless do- 
 main of her vast and peaceful empire, the glorious 
 temple of Christian truth and Christian worship. 
 And now in like manner we believe the peculiar 
 dispensation of the age, and specifically of the race 
 to which we belong, is to leaven the philosophy, 
 the literature, the morality, and the civil and poli- 
 
M. B. HOPE, D.D. 1G9 
 
 tical institutious of the world, witli the reli^rion of 
 the Bible, and then carry their elevating purifying 
 influence throughout the earth. 
 
 This is the last of the great dispensations of the 
 world's progressive history. The true and final civil- 
 ization of the race, as statesmen and philosophers 
 delight to call it, is just that which owes to Chris- 
 tianity both the life of its being, and the law of its 
 forms. Much as politicians may overlook or deride 
 the notion, it is true that the only form of civiliza- 
 tion capable of embracing the whole human fam- 
 ily, — the only form that ever can become universal, 
 — ^is that which owes its being and its power, to the 
 gospel. The ci\'ilization of Greece was incomplete 
 and local, that of Eome was temporary and sub- 
 servient to ulterior purposes. "We repeat, the only 
 true civilization, capable of combining and enlight- 
 ening, of purifying and elevating the race of man, 
 is Christianity itself. This is the divine principle of 
 human civilization. It w^as designed for the whole 
 family of man ; and it will therefore embrace the 
 whole. It will absorb and incorj)orate all that is 
 true and noble in the art and literature of Greece, 
 the legislation and jurisprudence of Rome, the 
 freedom and the industrial, economic, and commer- 
 cial enterprise of the Teutonic races, — all that is 
 beautiful, and true, atid good, and great; and 
 founding the structure upon the di\dne atonement 
 of Jesus Christ as the only relief from the conscious 
 crushing guilt of the human bosom, and the renew- 
 ing and sanctifjang power of the Spirit of God as 
 the only possible source of its regeneration and 
 12 
 
170 THE PRINCETON PULPIT. 
 
 purification, it will stand forth, like tlie New Jeru- 
 salem of tlie Prophetic Scriptures resplendent in 
 tlie liglit of heaven, the sanctuary and the home 
 of all the nations of the earth. 
 
 The process we have indicated is going on with 
 ever-increasing velocity: and in our day its ele- 
 ments are driven under impulses of almost fearful 
 impetuosity. Changes are passing upon the inter- 
 nal policy and the outward face of nations, with a 
 rapidity as much greater than those of the early 
 ages of history, as the modes of locomotion, and the 
 intercourse of the world, have been improved, by 
 the agencies of steam and magnetic electricity. The 
 progress of human events toward their ultimate 
 goal, like some mighty mass acted upon by a con- 
 stant mechanical force, is ever accelerating as it ad- 
 vances. This is pre-eminently true of the very 
 point of time now passing. The plot thickens. 
 Events crowd with ever-accumulating momentum 
 toward the appointed end. 
 
 The application of these principles toward the 
 solution of the recent revolutionary and reactionary 
 movements of the world, in the present chaotic 
 period of its history, opens a topic of great interest, 
 by no means free of difficulty. If the claims we 
 have set up for Christianity, as the great agent of 
 human enfranchisement, and social elevation and 
 progress, are well founded, it may be asked how it 
 comes that all the Christian governments in the old 
 world, are absolute and despotic, both in form and 
 in fact. To reply to this inquiry intelligently, we 
 must recall the circumstances under which Chris- 
 
M. B. HOPE, D.D. 1*71 
 
 tianity entered upon its work of human redemp- 
 tion. It will be remembered tliat it found the 
 world under the dominion of despotism, temporarily- 
 enthroned for the purpose of keeping the peace, in 
 expectation of its legitimate ruler. It is easy to 
 see, therefore, how the declaration of the great 
 founder of Christianity was necessarily to be fulfil- 
 led ; — that he came not to send peace on the earth, 
 but a sword. The dominion usurped and tacitly 
 conceded to absolute power, must first be dispos- 
 sessed of its unnatural authority, before Christianity 
 could fulfill its mission of social enfranchisement. 
 It could not effect its object in behalf of the race, 
 without diffusing abroad that enlightenment and 
 moral virtue, which are incompatible with the per- 
 sistent reign of civil despotism. The instantaneous 
 result, therefore, of its entrance upon its assigned 
 work of personal regeneration and enfranchisement, 
 was just what its author declared it would be, and 
 just what the past and current history of the world 
 shows that it must be, — a steady conflict with the 
 dominant passions of the human bosom, as concen- 
 trated into the various forms of despotic govern- 
 ment. Wherever, in its early resistless march, it 
 invaded the kingdom of darkness and tp-anny, it 
 awakened hostility and drew on a conflict ; because 
 it stood in natural and necessary antagonism with 
 these vices of human society, — just as light is in 
 natural antaijonism with darkness. And as the 
 universal establishment of Christian liberty, found- 
 ed on the universal prevalence of truth and holiness, 
 was the very end of all history, and as its triumph 
 
1T2 THE PEINCETON PULPIT. 
 
 was predetermined in the original plan of tlie moral 
 ruler of the world, it followed that the general 
 conflict in which Christianity became involved with 
 the absolute governments of the world, must ul- 
 timately lead to their overthrow ; and thus con- 
 summate again the great principle of the text, — 
 overturning and overturning, with a view to the 
 final establishment of that kingdom, which alone 
 could be perpetual, because it alone was consistent 
 with the complete enfranchisement, and the highest 
 interest of man. 
 
 It is clear, therefore, that the repugnance and in- 
 tolerance, which the absolute governments of the 
 world have always manifested toward evangelical 
 Christianity, is founded on a blind, but unerring in- 
 stinct. Christianity and despotism cannot co-exist ; 
 because Christianity not only inculcates, but actu- 
 ally introduces the highest form of human freedom, 
 in that liberty wherewith Christ makes his people 
 free. And it is equally plain, that where the peo- 
 ple are not only awakened to the intimate con- 
 sciousness of their right to be free, but actually 
 invested with that right, by the authority of God 
 himself, and at the same time are made adequately 
 aware of their power as well as their rights, there 
 is no domination on earth or in hell, that can hold 
 them in bondage. Where is the tyrant who could 
 hold a nation of Luthers under the yoke of civil 
 despotism ? 
 
 But it may be objected to this reasoning, in 
 favor of the essential enfranchising tendencies of 
 the Gospel, that Christianity was the religion of 
 
M. B. HOPE, D.D. 173 
 
 Rome in the days of its darkest tyranny, and con- 
 tinues to be the religion of the despotic govern- 
 ments of modern Europe. 
 
 We acknowledge the fairness of the objection ; 
 and accept the challenge to reconcile the historical 
 fact, with the claims we have been making in be- 
 half of Christianity ; — and all the more readily, be- 
 cause the principles involved are absolutely vital to 
 the prosperous issue of the present exciting revolu- 
 tionary period of history. 
 
 It must be remembered, then, that all stable and 
 efficient government requires a religious support, and 
 cannot be administered or perpetuated, except by the 
 help of religious sanctions. When Christianity was 
 deposited in the bosom of human society, it necessa- 
 rily entered into reaction, not with the authority, 
 but the abuses of existing institutions. Such was 
 the light it shed upon those dark abuses, and such 
 the might with which it shook the hoary pillars of 
 despotic Rome, and spread its influence through 
 her vast domain, that it soon became apparent on 
 which side the victory must ultimately declare. 
 To prevent a result so disastrous to herself, and for 
 which the world was yet unprepared, the govern- 
 ment itself, under Constantine, by a stroke of policy 
 the most masterly and adroit, set itself to cement a 
 league between the Church and the State ; and thus 
 avail itself for its own aggrandizement, of the power 
 against which it was plainly unable to cope in open 
 hostility. This alliance is the key to the history of 
 the middle ages. Christianity was simply thrown 
 into the heart of society, as a personal embodiment 
 
174 THE PEIlSrCETON PULPIT. 
 
 of the divine life, wliicli was to disentlirall aud re- 
 deem mankind. Before it was in a condition to 
 acliieve its great social mission for tlie race, it was 
 necessary that it should grapple with all the forms 
 of belief which had held possession of the human 
 mind, and had served to give form and vitality to 
 the existing institutions of society. A process like 
 this was indispensable to bring the Christian reli- 
 gion into broad and quickening contact with all 
 the varied forms of social life. It had been reveal- 
 ed as a princij^le of individual belief, and of per- 
 sonal salvation. But it could not stop here. A 
 new and divine life, such as it was the object of the 
 gospel to impart, could not fail to pervade and 
 leaven every element of human society. It was 
 destined to correct the errors of its philosophy, and 
 mitigate, and ultimately abolish, the rigors and 
 abuses of its social and political institutions. To 
 do this, it was necessary that it should be cast into 
 the established formulas of human thought, and in- 
 corporated into the intellectual, as well as the moral, 
 life of the I'ace. So that a revelation, which was 
 primarily the element of personal regeneration, 
 and individual holiness, — and as such existed in a 
 form already complete, and incapable of develoj)- 
 ment in the teachings of Christ and his apostles, — 
 was to become in addition the living principle of 
 the intellectual, the social, and even the political 
 institutions of the world. In this process, Chris- 
 tianity was necessarily to be transformed from a 
 concrete or subjective embodiment of living Chris- 
 tian truth in the heart and life of its disci23les, into 
 
M. B. IIOTE, D.D. 175 
 
 ahstract formulas of belief and of practice ; or in 
 other words, into logical creeds, embracing all the 
 points of doctrine and of duty, which Avere essen- 
 tial to the complete fulfillment of the task assigned 
 it, in the intellectual and civil, as well as personal 
 regeneration of mankind."^ 
 
 Now it was j^recisely this preparatory process 
 of intellectual action and reaction, of sifting, elimi- 
 nation and settlement, applied to Christian doctrine, 
 which constituted the distinctive task of the early 
 and middle ages of the Christian history of the 
 world ; v^%eii the intellect of Christendom was con- 
 centrated in the monastic schools of Europe, and 
 the active, logical, and metaphysical discussions of 
 the schoolmen settled what was, or rather was not, 
 the true faith of the Church. Such was the char- 
 acteristic and invaluable function of a period and 
 a class of men, commonly so little appreciated. Tlie 
 period has been stigmatized as the dark ages of 
 
 * It is hoped the tenor and spirit of this discourse will make it sufficiently 
 apparent that what is meant in the text is widely different from what has 
 been so often expressed in nearly analogous language, by a current popular 
 school of infidel philosophers, who apply the favorite dogma of develop- 
 ment to the teachings of a complete and closed revelation. Both as a system 
 of doctrines and appliances for the conversion of men, and as a rule of life for 
 their guidance, Christianity was completed when the canon of the New Tes- 
 tament was closed. But it is obvious that the relation of Christianity to an 
 innumerable multitude of questions, in the social and political life of the race, 
 could be ascertained and setded only by a long process of comparison and 
 trial. To accomplish this, or even distinctly to conceive and propose it, 
 would require, as we have expressed it above, that it should first "be cast 
 into the established formulas of human thought," as worked out in the con- 
 sciousness, and accumulated in the experience, of successive ages. It is only 
 in this sense that we accept the doctrine of a development in Christianity, 
 viz., a development in its applications to the complex forms of human well- 
 being — a development that is parallel, if not identical, with that of God's 
 plan, as unfolded in history, for the final redemption of the human race. 
 
176 THE pki:n'ceton pulpit. 
 
 human history, and they were dark enough, in re- 
 gard to the intellectual and social degradation of 
 the masses of the people ; but we should not forget 
 that it was in the womb of their darkness that the 
 hand of Providence was fashioning the germs of 
 those truer and more Christian forms of social and 
 political life, which it is the province of modern 
 history to evolve into the highest types of Christian 
 civilization. Preparatory to this indispensable pro- 
 cess, and while it was still going on, Christianity 
 had already, as we have seen, entered into alliance 
 with the dominant powers of Europe ; and in one 
 asj)ect, at least, it was a merciful Providence that 
 it was permitted to do so. For it was already ap- 
 parent that no human power was adequate, without 
 the aid of Christian sanctions, to preserve its own 
 stability, and keep, as by iron rigor, the peace of 
 the world through that most turbulent period of 
 human history. But, of course, in lending its power 
 to such a purpose, Christianity itself, in its courtly 
 aspects, became corrupt, and degenerated into a 
 system of concentrated despotism that was univer- 
 sal and complete ; because it involved in its endless 
 folds the souls, and finally the minds, as well as 
 bodies, of its victims. Thus, in its political form, 
 it ceased in the end to be a true expression of ge- 
 nuine Christianity at all. And when the work of 
 the schools w^as completed, and the true faith of 
 the Church was ready to come from its hidden 
 retreats, in the form of a settled and comj^acted 
 logical creed, instinct with the glorious evangelical 
 spirit of the great Reformation, the whole sustained 
 
M. B. HOPE, D.D. 177 
 
 by tlie revealed Word of God, in tlie dauntless liands 
 of Luther and tlie other Reformers, then it was 
 that Christianity entered upon its last great dis- 
 pensation, viz., that of going forth to its final and 
 triumphant conflict, with the ignorance and the 
 vices which are the sources alike of the despotisms 
 and the miseries of earth, with a view to the uni- 
 versal difliision and ultimate establishment of the 
 Gospel of Christ. And this, we repeat, is the true 
 and real mission which this stirring revolutionary 
 age is preparing to inaugurate. 
 
 In the light of these principles we are prepared to 
 explain another j^henomenon of the present epoch, 
 which, at first sight, seems incompatible with the 
 views now presented, viz., that the revolutionary 
 movements of the times have been chiefly in the 
 hands of radicals in religion as well as government, 
 instead of the apostles of genuine Christianity. 
 
 We remark, in the first place, then, that the 
 restlessness which is expressing itself in these 
 movements is the result of the deep and living con- 
 sciousness of unsatisfied wants, and the earnest con- 
 viction of rights unjustly withheld, — that, in other 
 words, it is the legitimate and necessary conse- 
 quence of the gradual spread of that light, whose 
 fountain is in the word of God, and which, in 
 virtue of its divine origin, like the light of day 
 upon the statue of the vocal Memnon, wakes 
 the latent harmonies of faith and hope in the 
 gloomy bosom of the nations. That these over- 
 turnings never could have occurred unless they 
 had been preceded by a great and comprehensive 
 
178 THE Pr. IlSrCETON PULPIT. 
 
 reformation of religion, both, doctrinal and spiritual, 
 like tliat of tlie sixteenth century, is susceptible of 
 easy proof, if it is not intuitively clear, from this 
 simple statement of the facts. That the move- 
 ments themselves have so generally taken on a 
 form hostile to true religion, is easily explained. 
 
 In the first place, the very ignorance in which the 
 people have been kept, tends to blind them to the 
 true nature of the relief they are seeking, as well as 
 the true means of its attainment. Light enough 
 has struggled through the murky atmosjihere of 
 despotism, to reveal to men their higher spiritual 
 tendencies and hopes, and the magnitude and 
 weight of the burdens which have crushed them to 
 to the earth ; but not enough to disclose the real 
 source of these evils, and still less, the adequate and 
 only means of their redress. In the instinctive 
 effort to struggle up into a higher sphere of life, 
 they first encounter the hopeless, social disabilities, 
 and crushing 2:)olitical burdens, arising from the 
 desj)otic governments which time has consolidated 
 over their heads ; and it is natural, therefore, that 
 they should first seek relief, by the frantic and ra- 
 dical attempt to overthrow and trample in the 
 dust the immediate instruments of their oppression 
 and wrong. Hence the discontent and wretched- 
 ness of these restive classes of the old world, seek 
 vent in revolutionary attempts, directed against 
 the established governments of Europe. It may 
 be long before their enlightenment is sufficiently ad- 
 vanced, and may require many and bitter and bloody 
 experiences of failure, to convince them of the 
 
M. B. UOPE, D.D. 179 
 
 emptiness of all otlier resources, and sliut tliem up 
 to tlie faitli of Cliristiauity, as the fuudameutal and 
 indispensable condition of any sufficient or com- 
 plete relief. 
 
 But, secondly, tliis alienation and repugnance to 
 religion is the more natural, because the only form 
 in which Christianity is known to these revolution- 
 ary advocates of social rights, is that in which it 
 stands before theii' eyes, as the grand ally of civil 
 despotism, the very corner-stone and binding ce- 
 ment of the fearful structure, which tyranny has 
 reared upon the blood and bones of slaughtered 
 and starving millions. No w^onder, therefore, that 
 their avowed aim is so often the extinction of 
 Christianity ; since, in their estimation, by reason of 
 its vicious alliance with the State, it is the very 
 breath and life, the very heart and soul of every 
 living despotism on 'the Continent of Europe. 
 
 And in the last place, it is not to be disguised, 
 that Christianity encounters their hatred, because 
 it has no fellowshi]3 with the spirit in which these 
 radical movements are often conducted, any more 
 than it has with the oppression and wrong, against 
 which they are aimed. Besides the universal dis- 
 like of the human heart to the characteristic doc- 
 trines of the Gospel, it is clear that the fanaticism 
 and violence and bloodshed, which mark the track 
 of civil revolutions, are rebuked by the Christian- 
 ity of the Xew Testament, with the same calm and 
 severe majesty, with which it denounces inevitable 
 overthrow against the men and the measures 
 
180 THE PRINCETON PULPIT. 
 
 wliicli extiuguisli tlie lights of liumau knowledge 
 and human hope in the dark bosom of society. 
 
 The significancy of this extraordinary epoch can 
 be understood, not by confining our attention to 
 the character of the agencies which have produced 
 it^ — for these are often low in their origin, and blind 
 in their intelligence, and evil in their intentions, — 
 but by studying it deeply, as a historical develop- 
 ment of the divine purpose which pervades all his- 
 tory as its life-principle, and to which all agencies, 
 however blind and however bad, are alike subject- 
 ed, and compelled to do its will. What the specific 
 purpose of God, now in process of evolution is, 
 may be a subject of great doubt; but that there is 
 a divine purpose to be accomplished, is as certain 
 as that there is a God. The Providence that is im- 
 plicated in the fall of a sparrow, cannot be foreign 
 to the downfall, or the destiny, of the great dynas- 
 ties of the earth. The true intent and meaning of 
 these overturnings is to be sought, not in the estab- 
 lishment of this or that form of government, as 
 though the construction of political institutions was 
 the chief end of man, but in their tendency to bring 
 the living truth of God, in its quickening and sanc- 
 tifying power, into vital contact with the heart of 
 humanity. This is the true problem which mo- 
 dern history is to solve. It is not the low and im- 
 perfect form of political freedom, which, at best, is 
 but a well-contrived system of checks and restraints 
 upon the natural passions of men, but the universal 
 establishment of that spiritual freedom, which is 
 not only infinitely higher, but which admits of 
 
M. B. HOPE, D.D. 181 
 
 being absolute, just because it always chooses freely 
 to do riglit. It is tliis wliicli constitutes the true 
 key to the mysteries of Pro\'idence. Whatever 
 else may come from these overturnings, one thing 
 is certain, in tlie light of history as well as j^ro- 
 phecy, that they all tend to give increased scope to 
 the Word of God, and open wider and more effec- 
 tual doors to the apj)ointed agencies for its inculca- 
 tion. Whatever absolutism may do, it cannot any 
 longer bind the Word of God. It is to compel the 
 hoary despotisms of the earth to strike the fetters 
 from the soul of man, that God is causing the very 
 ground to rock beneath them. They have, at no 
 distant day, to make their election between a total 
 change of policy, with reference to the enlighten- 
 ment and freedom w^hich the Gospel brings to man- 
 kind, or their own downfall. 
 
 We are not enunciating a philosophy of history, 
 and still less, pretending to foretell the historical 
 details of the future : we are simply dealing with 
 the cardinal laws which govern its development : 
 and though it is one of the surest tests of 'true sci- 
 ence, that it enables us to predict, yet it requires a 
 knowledge of conditions, as well as laws, to fulfill 
 this requirement: and even then, the remoteness 
 or complexity of the result may transcend the pow- 
 ers of any human calculus to compute. We may 
 know the laws of hydrodynamics never so cer- 
 tainly ; but we may not, nevertheless, be able to 
 trace out the course of a body committed to the 
 conflicting impulses of an angry flood : so, however 
 true and important the principles we have been 
 
182 THE PEINCETON PULPIT. 
 
 striving to illustrate, they may not, still, enable us 
 to foretell tlie course and tlie issue of tlie great stir- 
 ring events of tMs turbulent period of liumau pro- 
 gress. Whether the old institutions of Europe, its 
 hereditary monarchies, its spiritual hierarchies, and 
 especially its master-piece of spiritual despotism, 
 the papacy, are to be finally and utterly destroyed, 
 may perhaps be a question, but that their flagrant 
 wrongs and abuses are, is not only a certainty, but, 
 we may almost say, a fact accomplished. Who 
 imagines, for a moment, that the later reactions in 
 favor of absolutism are, or can be, permanent? 
 Who does not see that they are procured by means 
 which necessarily involve other and more fearful 
 retributory reactions ? There is nothing in them 
 that looks like permanence or stability. The thing 
 is impossible. We should just as soon expect the 
 Mississippi or the Amazon, the snow-fed Danube 
 or the arrowy Rhone, to pause in their glad and 
 triumphant course. The great current of human 
 enfranchisement, like every other obstructed cur- 
 rent, must have its eddies, but its flow is onward, 
 and irresistible. Russia, that awful incarnation of 
 human despotism, may throw into the stream her 
 fifty millions of slaves, and then pile upon them the 
 thirty millions of poor, miserable, ignominious Aus- 
 tria, in order to dam up and arrest its resistless 
 flow ; but the very weight of its accumulated wa- 
 ters will soon sweep them away, like straws on the 
 plunge of the cataract. Whether any of the late 
 gains of the spirit of liberty can be maintained, is 
 more than questionable : but whether they can or 
 
M. B. HOPE, D.D. 183 
 
 not, tliat higher freedom of the Gospel — without 
 which, the change from absolute monarchy to re- 
 2^ul)licauism, is but a change from the despotism of 
 the intelligent Ijut selfish few, to the desj)otism of 
 the blind, and more selfish and brutal many, — is 
 destined to be advanced l^y these overturnings, 
 and finally enthroned supreme in the confidence 
 and hearts of men. This, surely, cannot be doubted 
 l)y any one who studies their causes, or compre- 
 hends the true nature of history, as an evolution of 
 the divine purj)ose, with reference to man.* Even 
 
 * The late reaction in favor of despotism in France, the news of which 
 reached us after this paragraph was penned, furnishes a curious illustration 
 of the principles of this discourse. The solution of what seems to excite so 
 general surprise and disappointment, appears to be abundantly clear. France, 
 by the election of a military usurper, has pronounced her unequivocal judg- 
 ment, that she was not prepared for the institutions of constitutional liberty. 
 In the emphatic language of one of her ablest statesmen, of a former revolu- 
 tion. La France doit avoir une religion — France must have a religion In 
 the absence of that prime condition of civil freedom, the choice of the coun- 
 try lay between the evils of anarchy on the one hand, and those of a military 
 despotism on the other : and France has chosen the latter, as immeasurably 
 the least of the two. The material interests of the country all demand peace, 
 in order to prosperity ; and peace is impossible at present in France, except 
 under the strong hand of absolute power. But let the principles of religion 
 and education so leaven the masses, that liberty can be entered as one of the 
 possible conditions, compatible with the peace of the country, and then see 
 how the nation will rise in its might, and sweep away the treacherous per- 
 fidy of a tyrannical usurper, as the majestic king of the forest would brush 
 an annoying, envenomed insect from his flanks. To suppose that such a 
 government can stand an hour, after its felt necessity has passed away, is to 
 suppose that perjury, and violence, and perfidy can command the conlkience 
 and support of honest and true men. It is to suppose that history has no ap. 
 pointed goal — no great ulterior purpose to achieve in behalf of humanity. It is 
 to ignore every lesson of the past, and every hope of the future; it is to de- 
 throne Jehovah, and to put the reins of the universe into the hands of chance, or 
 of Satan. There can be no stronger statement of the doom that hangs over the 
 cause of despotism, than to say, that it contravenes the plans of the Almighty, 
 for the benefit of the race ; as clearly revealed in history as well as pro- 
 phecy. 
 
 If the cause of Hungary could be detached from that of Continental Eu- 
 
184 THE PRINCETON PULPIT. 
 
 tlie wildest devices of folly wliich cliaracterize the 
 social movements of the age, Fourierism in France, 
 Kepiiblicanism in Germany and Italy, Chartism in 
 England, and Repeal in Ireland, are the earnest 
 expression of felt wants, which Christianity alone 
 can relieve. That some of them are infidel in their 
 spirit and their supporters, is the result, not so 
 much of intelligent Jbatred of the Gospel, as of sim- 
 ple ignorance as to what the Gospel is. 
 
 And yet even in these visionary and fanatical 
 outbursts of the radical revolutionary sj^irit, the 
 instincts of the heart are often true to their object, 
 when the darkened intellect wholly fails to recog- 
 nize their true nature, or set them forth in the clear 
 liofht of the reason. The watch-words of the down- 
 trodden classes of the old world — liberty^ equality^ 
 fraternity — are not so far from the embodiment of 
 the true and fundamental principles of that very 
 civilization which yet awaits the human race. But 
 as to the sources whence these blessings are to 
 come, they are, by the necessities of their previous 
 condition, wholly in the dark. 
 
 rope, we might hope to see the beginning of the end speedily initiated. Four 
 millions of Protestants, with nearly 3,000 churches, might serve as a foun- 
 dation for the political and religious freedom of a nation of ten millions of 
 people, if they were instinct with the life of true evangelical religion. And 
 whatever doubt there may be on this latter point, there can be none, that the 
 truth is making rapid progress among them, and that the time is not far dis- 
 tant when these fundamental conditions of success will be reached. No 
 proposition seems clearer to us, than that the coming history of Europe is to 
 embody the conflict between Protestantism and civil freedom on the one hand, 
 and the Church of Rome and despotism on the other. The very forms, as 
 well as the spirit, of the Romish Church have been developed under condi- 
 tions which made it essentially despotic ; and the final freedom of Europe is 
 impossible, under the absolute dominion of that church, as well as under the 
 anarchy incident to the prevalence of infidelity or atheism. 
 
M. B. II O P E, D. D. 185 
 
 The " liberty" wliicli tliey are blindly struggling 
 after, in tlie turbulent and bloody track of radi- 
 calism, is to be realized in tlie enfranchisement of 
 the gospel, and grounded on that personal liberty 
 wherewith Christ makes his people free. The 
 " equality," to which their inward convictions assure 
 them they are entitled, is not an agrarian equality 
 of social and material position, but an equality in 
 human rights, founded on an equality of moral con- 
 dition and desert in the sight of God: and the 
 " fraternity," emblazoned on their motto, is the 
 genuine, but it may be perverted heart-utterance 
 of the conscious right to membership in that com- 
 mon brotherhood of humanity, which springs out 
 of the common Fatherhood of God. The whole 
 and every item, of this ideal longing of humanity 
 in its most degraded and dangerous forms, and 
 w^hich has been moulded into the war-cry of mo- 
 dern revolution, is destined to fulfilment ; but in a 
 form and from a source wddely different from that 
 to which the ignorant and vicious and dangerous 
 paupers and outcasts of the world, are looking for 
 succour. They shall yet enjoy all, and more than 
 all, their brightest hopes : but only as a fruit of the 
 gospel of Christ. Let them see, as they ultimately 
 will see, that all they have conceived, and infinite- 
 ly more, is attainable, as the free gift of a gracious 
 salvation, the purchase of the Son of God by the 
 sacrifice of the cross, and how w^ill they not joy- 
 fully embrace the gospel which does satisfy, in lieu 
 of empty and absurd theories which do not. It is 
 this blind but energetic feeling after truth, which 
 13 
 
186 THE PKljSrCETON PULPIT, 
 
 awakens in us tlie hope, tliat triitli will ultimately 
 be found. That the first attempts are wild and 
 fruitless, and therefore subject to repeated disap- 
 pointments and reverses, results necessarily from 
 their being made in the dark. But the very fact 
 that they are fruitless, will compel their earnest 
 authors to grope on till light comes. And it is 
 morally impossible that light should fail to reach 
 them ere long, from some of the innumerable 
 sources, from which it is streaming all over Chris- 
 tendom. We are not of those who regard these 
 struggles of oppressed humanity either with un- 
 mmgled dislike or despair; or who would with- 
 draw the sympathies of the Christian world from 
 their sufferings, because they are sometimes bap- 
 tized with the spirit of an optimist infidelity. Even 
 if many of them are atheists at hearty they are yet 
 human beings ; and as such have an immortal in- 
 terest at stake, in the redemption and the hopes of 
 the gospel ; and are therefore accessible, — most in- 
 vitingly accessible, — to its ministry of mercy. And 
 there is no conviction more clear or unalterable to 
 us, than that the hopes of a crushed and bleeding 
 humanity are all. conditioned upon the presence of 
 Christianity, to an extent sufficient to control the 
 movements, and animate the heart, and nerve the 
 ai'm, of those who are to lead the destinies of man- 
 kind in the final great struggle for salvation and 
 freedom. 
 
 Let men of the world, phnoso23hers and states- 
 men, overlook and despise the Church, the living 
 embodiment of Christianity; — let them regard 
 
M. B. HOPE, D.D. 187 
 
 what Christians are doing to spread tlie gospel of 
 tlie Son of God among men, as well enoiigli in 
 itself, but yet as boyish occupation, in comparison 
 with their great schemes of national enterprise ;' 
 they will one day find out, that it is this very 
 Christianity, which is yet to occupy the vacant 
 throne of the world: that all their exj^enditures 
 and bloodshed, their turmoils and state craft, have 
 been only contributing to this result ; and that a 
 power higher than the highest has uttered the 
 decree, — " Thus saith the Lord God ; remove the 
 diadem and take off the crown : this shall not be 
 the same : exalt him that is low and abase him that 
 is high. I will overturn, overturn, overturn it, and 
 it shall be no more, until he come whose right it 
 is ; and I will give it him." 
 
 The work of revolution has often been more dis- 
 astrous and bloody, but never, we believe, more 
 universal and pervading, than it is at this moment. 
 Without the light of revelation, we might well be 
 alarmed in attempting to guess whereto these events 
 are tending. But in the full blaze of that light, 
 the Christian believer may watch their accelerat- 
 ing progress, hot only without dismay, but with a 
 full and joyous confidence, that they are all ful- 
 filling the resistless will of Him, who " hath his 
 way in the whirlwind and in the storm ;" the great 
 law of whose Providence, as revealed in universal 
 nature, both animate and inanimate, hath ever been 
 to educe from the revolution and overthrow of one 
 dispensation, another more lofty, more glorious and 
 more perfect; and whose final triumph will be 
 
188 THE PEINCETON PULPIT. 
 
 inaugurated, wlien the blast of the Apocalyptic 
 trumpet shall proclaim to the universe, that the 
 kingdoms of this world have become the kingdoms 
 of our Lord, and of his Christ ; and he shall reign 
 for ever and ever. 
 
POWER AND PERPETUITY OF LAW* 
 
 BT 
 
 JOHx"*! FORSYTH, D.D., 
 
 PEOFESSOK OP I^TIN. 
 
 "It is easier for heaven and earth to pass, than one tittle of the law to fail."" 
 — St. Lvke xvii. 17. 
 
 If you liave read the Pentateucli and especially 
 tlie books of Exodus and Leviticus witli care, you 
 liave perliaps wondered why a system of laws, so 
 complicated, so careful of little things, so rigidly 
 exact in its directions about them, should ever have 
 been enacted. Viewing it in certain aspects, it may 
 be that a sort of half suspicion has crossed your 
 minds that legislation of this kind is really un- 
 worthy of such a being as God. But when the 
 purpose of its Divine Author is seen, when the 
 relation of the Law of Moses to the Jew^s as a sepa- 
 rated j^eople, and to the Gospel dispensation is 
 fully understood, the whole system appears in quite 
 a new light. The marks of divine wisdom and 
 goodness are clearly discernible in all its parts, 
 even in its minutest details. Every law has a rea- 
 son, every ceremony has a meaning, every rite be- 
 comes instinct with the most precious truth. 
 
 • Preached in the Chapel of the College of New Jersey. 
 
190 THE PEINCETON PULPIT. 
 
 This Mosaic code is " tlie Law" spoken of in the 
 text. It embodied many precepts of universal ap- 
 plication, and eternal authority, — it included, in- 
 deed, the whole moral law, but as a code, it was 
 enacted for a specific end, and was to continue in 
 force for a specific period. Until this end was 
 gained, and this period completed, not a jot or 
 tittle of it could be annulled. When the Son of 
 God exclaimed with his expiring breath, from that 
 cross to which he had been nailed as the sacrifice 
 for human guilt, " it is finished," and as if in sym- 
 pathy with him the " veil of the temple rent in 
 twain," then the reign of this Law terminated. But 
 until that very moment had come, it could and did 
 claim the reverent homage and exact obedience of 
 every Jew. The system possessed all the mighty 
 power of Law — nothing could set it aside. To re- 
 gard or to treat any one of its provisions as an 
 effete, or antiquated or useless thing, was in effect 
 to charge the Divine Lawgiver with folly. Hence 
 the strong language in which our Lord asserts its 
 power, and its perpetuity until the fulness of the 
 time had come. ''''Heaven and earth may pass 
 aivay^ hut one jot or tittle of the Law carmotfaiV 
 
 These words announce a great truth; what is 
 here affirmed of the Law in a distinctive sense is 
 true of Law universally. 
 
 God, who called the universe into existence by 
 the word of his power, governs it according to the 
 counsel of his own will. The creatures animate 
 and inanimate which make up the universe have 
 been placed by Him under laws suited to their 
 
JOIIX FORSYTH, D.D. 191 
 
 several natures, and to the respective ends wliicli 
 they are intended to subserve. We know tliat this 
 is so from our own observation of those parts of 
 creation which come under our notice ; and whether 
 we reason from the properties of the creature or 
 the perfections of the Creator, we are entitled to 
 infer that the same thing holds good of the universe 
 at large; in other words, wherever a creature 
 exists there is a law that reaches and governs it. 
 
 Now the great truth which the text assei-ts is 
 this, viz., that the laws which govern the universe 
 are of infinitely more consequence than the uni- 
 verse itself, — that it is of unspeakably more im- 
 portance that the former should be maintained 
 than that the latter should exist, — that all the 
 creatures of God, rational and irrational, should 
 obey the laws to which He has been pleased to 
 subject them, that they should work in harmony 
 with these enactments, than that any or all of them 
 should be kept in being. Glorious as are all the 
 works of God, yet if you should take any one of 
 them, consider it apart from all others, or view it 
 as a mere isolated thing, you would perceive little 
 if any excellence in it. It would mdeed bespeak 
 the creative energy of Him who made it, but you 
 could not discover from it alone whether He is 
 wise and good, or the reverse. It is only when 
 you regard it in its relations to other things, and 
 ascertain tuJuj it was made, and see its exact fitness 
 to an end, that its real glory and greatness as a 
 work of God shine forth. How beautiful to us is 
 the spectacle of a field of waving corn ? Its very 
 
192 THE PRINCETOlSr PULPIT. 
 
 verdure is refresliiiig to the eye, because adapted 
 to tlie structure of our organ of vision, while its 
 yellow ripeness gives the ]3romise of an abundant 
 supply of the food we need. But — if we may im- 
 agine such a thing — transfer it to a world of crea- 
 tui'es with a constitution totally unlike ours, its 
 beauty would vanish because its fitness to an end 
 would be lost. The glory of creation, then, arises 
 mainly from the benign ends and j^erfect adapta- 
 tions of its countless parts. And hence it is that 
 the universe must be, as we have already said? 
 " under law to God, and that the mamtenance of 
 the laws which govern it is vastly more important 
 than the existence of the universe itself. 
 
 Let me illustrate this position by an example 
 taken from the worlds above us. There are the 
 heavenly bodies, which, under the dominion of law, 
 revolve through their immense and seemingly com- 
 plex circuits in perfect harmony and order, while 
 with their mild radiance they relieve the darkness 
 which, from night to night, gathers round us. 
 Moving as they do with a majestic, a never-ceasing 
 steadiness, the astronomer is enabled to measure 
 their distances, their magnitudes, their orbits, to 
 predict their places, and to calculate the reciprocal 
 influence of planet upon planet ; while the mariner, 
 relying upon the lessons which astronomy has 
 taught him, with an undoubting confidence that 
 these starry guides never can mislead him, boldly 
 pushes out his bark upon the trackless deep. In 
 all this there is something moral. Though the ob- 
 jects themselves consist simply of unorganised 
 
JOHN FORSYTH, I) . D . 193 
 
 matter, yet the laws wliicli govern tliem are most 
 intimately connected with the convenience and 
 the comfort of the dwellers upon earth, and thus 
 the moral attributes of Him whose fiat gave being 
 to the worlds that fill immensity, — His goodness. 
 His wisdom, as well as His mightiness, are revealed. 
 " The heavens declare the glory of God, the firma- 
 ment showeth his handy work; day unto day 
 uttereth speech, night unto night showeth know- 
 led s^e of Him." 
 
 In the working of the stupendous mechanism of 
 the heavens, all is orderly and harmonious so long 
 as the law which governs its movements is obeyed. 
 But suppose the reverse of this to be the case — that 
 the law of gravitation was liable to incessant inter- 
 ruptions, that the forces which produce the beauti- 
 ful steadiness we now observe, operated according 
 to no fixed rule, either as to direction or degree, so 
 that satellites should rush ofi" into boundless space, 
 or dash furiously against each other, and the planets, 
 starting from their orbits, should wander at their 
 will through immensity, or should be suddenly de- 
 luged with the fogs or the flanies (as the case may 
 be) of a comet, while this fair earth of ours, ac- 
 cording as chance di'ove her near to or distant from 
 the sun, were converted into a fiery furnace, or a 
 globe of ice. We may try to fancy the state of 
 things under such a reign of anarchy, though the 
 boldest ima2:ination must come far short of the 
 reality. But the main question is, can we suppose 
 that God would sufi"er, even for a moment, such a 
 lawless universe to exist ? No. He is a " God of 
 
194 THE PKINCETON PULPIT. 
 
 order," and it were far Ijetter to remand creation to 
 its original nothingness, tlian to permit disorder and 
 confusion thus to gain the mastery over it ; better 
 annihilate it at once, than not maintain its laws in 
 full supremacy and force. " Heaven and earth 
 may pass away, but one jot or tittle of the laws 
 shall not fail." 
 
 Let us, if you please, take another illustration 
 from the earth on which ive dwell. Here, too, we 
 observe a grand and complicated system of physical 
 operations incessantly going on, of physical laws 
 perpetually at work. There is the refreshing alter- 
 nation of day and night, the succession of the sea- 
 sons, the rising and falling tides ; seeds planted at 
 the right time, and in proper soil, give back their 
 kind with an increase of " some thirty, some sixty, 
 some an hundred fold ;" fire burns, food nourishes, 
 poisons kill. But it is needless to enumerate, for it 
 would take volumes to describe the countless and 
 varied processes ever going forward in the vast 
 laboratory of nature. Now, each and all of these 
 have their laws, and when we have learned, by ob- 
 servation or experiment, what the law is in any 
 given case, we know how to act for the present not 
 only, but what to do through all coming time. 
 Nature, or rather the God of nature, governs by 
 fixed laws, and we rely with an undoubting con- 
 fidence on their unvarying uniformity. While the 
 earth endures, there will be seed-time and harvest, 
 summer and winter, day and night ; men lie down 
 at evening confident that if they wake in the morn- 
 ing at all, they will see the sun come forth from the 
 
JOHN rORSYTII, D.D. 195 
 
 east, prepared like tlie strong man to run his daily 
 circuit ; the farmer plants his seed, and then waits 
 in hope of reaping an abundant harvest ; the mar- 
 iner can tell the exact moment when the tides will 
 be high or low at any given point. But suppose 
 that the whole of this wonderful economy of nature 
 were mysteriously disturbed — that her processes, 
 apparently so complicated, yet never confused, were 
 suddenly left to chance, and were subject to no 
 laws, so that men sowed fields and reaped nothing, 
 and then again where they planted nothing, they 
 reaped abundance ; so that their food one day min- 
 istered nourishment, and the next deadly poison ; 
 nor could they tell whether the water they drank 
 would quench or increase their thirst; that the 
 darkness of night, the light of day, the heat of 
 summer, the frost of winter lasted through periods 
 so indefinite, and were liable to changes so great 
 and sudden, that none could predict what a moment 
 would bring forth ; I ask, again, could God permit 
 this goodly earth of ours to fall into a condition so 
 utterly lawless and so destructive to all the crea- 
 tures that dwell upon its surface? No indeed. 
 Better a thousand fold that it were blotted from 
 existence than that it should become such a prey of 
 anarchy, such a plaything of chance, without law, 
 without life — a world as dishonouring to its Maker, 
 as it would be intolerable for man. 
 
 But let us come nearer home and take an illus- 
 tration from man himself. In whatever aspect we 
 view him, whether as a physical, social, intellectual, 
 or moral being, we fijid him the subject of laws, — 
 
196 THE PEINOETON PULPIT. 
 
 of laws uncliangeable as the eternal Lawgiver him- 
 self ; and, liarsli as the announcement may sound, 
 it is nevertheless true that not to maintain these 
 laws would be a far greater evil than the destruc- 
 tion of the human race ; better that men should 
 perish than that these laws should be set aside. 
 Alas ! the ruin of human beings is not merely a 
 contingent necessity, but a perpetually recurring 
 fact. Myriads upon myriads of our race have 
 already perished in consequence of violating those 
 unchancrins: laws which God has enacted for their 
 government. Every day beholds thousands per- 
 ishing — destroyed in body, or in soul, or both, for 
 time and for eternity. Let us see how the case 
 stands with us. Our bodies "are under law to 
 God ;" they are subject to laws suited to the mate- 
 rials of which they are constructed, and to the 
 purposes they are intended to subserve in the eco- 
 nomy of life. They need food for their sustenance 
 and growth, shelter from the inclemencies of the 
 seasons, medicine when affected by disease. We 
 may not trifle with any one of these laws, to which 
 He who " formed us of clay and made us men," 
 hath subjected our physical nature. If we do, it is 
 at our peril ; for, although these laws are not en- 
 forced by precisely the same penalty, yet we should 
 ever remember that each has a penalty of its own ; 
 and whether it be more or less severe, we must en- 
 dure the punishment if we venture to violate the 
 law. Let the motive which prompts a man to dis- 
 regard the laws of health, or the manner in which 
 the thing is done, be what it may, let him, for ex- 
 
D.D. 197 
 
 ample, turn uiglit iDto clay, whetlier lie 1)6 a student, 
 wliose intense zeal for knowledge keeps liim at liis 
 books, wlien he should be in his bed, or a miserable 
 sensualist, who gives his midnight hours to revelry 
 and banqueting, the inevitable result to him will 
 be a ruined constitution. Be assured that if you 
 will persist in drinking or in eating that which dis- 
 orders your stomach, or shatters your nerves, you 
 must pay the penalty which the law appoints to all 
 who thus act. God will not modify the order He 
 has established so as to suit the convenience of your 
 depraved appetites ; He will not change His laws to 
 accommodate either the unwise student, or the mi- 
 seral^le sensualist. " Heaven and earth shall pass, 
 but not one jot or tittle of His law." 
 
 So it is with men considered as social bein^. 
 There are laws of social life ordained of God, 
 and though we cannot always trace their operation 
 so distinctly as we can the working of those which 
 govern the material creation, we may still be cer- 
 tain that the former are just as uniform and immut- 
 able as the latter. We only need to open our eyes 
 and look at what is going on around us, to be con- 
 vinced of this truth. Economy, diligence, prudence, 
 truthfulness, unswerving probity, on the one hand, 
 and extravagance, self-indulgence, falsehood, deceit, 
 trickery, on, the other, do not yield their respective 
 fruits at random, or by chance. No. There is a law 
 which renders these results invariable. " A good 
 tree cannot bring forth evil fruit, nor a corrupt tree 
 good fruit." What is the common proverb, " ho- 
 nesty is the best policy," but just the embodiment, 
 
198 THE PRINCETON PULPIT. 
 
 in words, of the conviction forced into the general 
 mind, (if I may use the term,) by events of which 
 men are daily the spectators or the subjects, " that 
 verily there is a God that judgeth in the earth," 
 and th^t within certain limits, even in this world, 
 " He renders to every man according to his works." 
 Men who oppress and defraud others sometimes 
 grow rich, " panting after the dust of the earth on 
 the head of the poor ;" they may scrape together a 
 great heap of gold, but wealth, in its highest and 
 noblest sense, they neither do nor can possess. The 
 trickster, the time-server, the two-faced flatterer, may 
 secure the position or the office on which his heart 
 is set, but real honour, and lasting power, he never 
 wins. God's law forbids it. And the experience 
 of all ages embodied in the proverbs of all nations, 
 as well as the Word of Eternal Truth, proves that 
 in the long run such men always reap their proper 
 reward, and go at last to their own place. If the 
 temporal penalty they have incurred does not in- 
 variably come down upon the offender's own head, 
 it is an heir-loom for those who come after them ; it 
 descends as an entailed curse to their children. If 
 then, my hearers, you are spared to enter the arena 
 of public social life, remember that there are cer- 
 tain laws, immutable as their Author, by which 
 you will be bound, while taking your part in those 
 scenes in which you hope to share ; and that it is 
 only in the way of unswerving obedience to them, 
 that any of you can expect to gain, what I am sure 
 all of you desire, wealth, influence, comfort, the re- 
 spect, the confidence, the admiwng gratitude of 
 
JOHN FORSYTH, D.D. 199 
 
 your fellow-men, honour in life, and a grave watered 
 by tlie tears of the good. These are objects which 
 cannot fail to awaken tlie warm aspirations of every 
 generous soul; multitudes are perpetually and 
 eagerly asking how can we obtain them, but 
 though God has furnished a clear and certain an- 
 swer to their inquiry, few succeed, because unwill- 
 ing to pay the price which He demands, to comply 
 with the conditions He has imposed, to obey the 
 laws He has enacted. 
 
 Thus far we have viewed the teaching of our 
 text mainly as it bears upon men's present interests 
 and their earthly life. It contains lessons of still 
 higher moment. We know that this world is the 
 prelude of another, and even here below, we have, 
 in the relation of youth to age, a striking image of 
 the relation which subsists between this world and 
 the next, between our present life and the everlast- 
 ing life to come. Youth is the season of prepara- 
 tion for mature manhood, and this circumstance, 
 which might well impart a sober seriousness even 
 to hopeful and joyous childhood, never fails to fill the 
 heart of the thoughtful parent with profound anx- 
 iety. Ordinarily what the youth is, is the man ; and 
 hence that exhortation and promise of Holy Writ — 
 " Train up a child in the way he should go, and when 
 he is old he will not depart from it." There are, no 
 doubt, occasional exceptions to the rule, for He 
 whose grace alone can renovate any soul, is a Sove- 
 reign, working all things according to the counsel 
 of His own will ; He can change the lion into the 
 lamb, and at any period of life can convert the 
 
200 THE PRINCETON PULPIT. 
 
 most abandoned of sinners into tlie noblest of 
 saints, "raising bini from tbe dungbill to a seat 
 among tlie princes of his people." Still universal 
 experience proves that the law before stated, and 
 implied in the Scripture already quoted, holds 
 £food — that " the child is the father of the man ;" 
 that the impressions we receive during our early 
 years are most enduring, and give shape and com- 
 plexion to our future character. And hence, even 
 a Pagan satirist could utter those noble lines, 
 which might well be engraven on the memory of 
 the Christian parent — 
 
 Maxima debetur puero reverentia. Si quid 
 Turpe paras, nee tu pueri eontempseris annos, 
 Sed peccaturo obstat tibi filius infans. 
 
 He who wastes the period which God has allotted 
 to make a man of him — a period short indeed, as it 
 consists of only a few years, but sufficient for the 
 purpose if rightly improved — wastes what he never 
 can replace. He may deeply regret his folly — he 
 certainly will regret, whether he dies in early man- 
 hood or lives to old age ; he may weep bitter tears, 
 but, like Esau, he shall " find no place for repent- 
 ance ;" he may labour hard, rising early and eating 
 the bread of carefulness, in order to make up for 
 lost time, but his success, at the best, will be only 
 partial ; he has madly thrown away jewels of price- 
 less value, and now their entire recovery is impos- 
 sible. 
 
 Such is the law of our present earthly existence, 
 and in it we see shadowed forth the law of our fu- 
 ture and eternal life. Now^ is the time to prej^are 
 
JOHN FORSYTH, D . D . 201 
 
 for eternity, and we are urged by every kind of 
 motive that may be supposed to tell U23on creatures 
 sucli as we are, by motives the most animating and 
 alarming, to engage in the work on which hang 
 everlasting things. The season allowed to us for 
 this momentous end, " the day of salvation," is in- 
 deed very brief, so brief as to be fitly com^^ared to 
 " a hand breadth" — " a watch in the nicrht " — it is ne- 
 vertheless amply sufficient for the purpose of mak- 
 ing " our calling and election sure." All the means 
 requisite to success have been freely j^rovided and 
 are placed within our reach by Him who commands 
 us to " work out our salvation." The law of life, 
 in the most comprehensive sense of the term, to 
 which man was subjected, when God made him "of 
 the dust of the ground," and stamped uj^on him 
 His own holy image, has been broken by every 
 child of Adam times without number, and now its 
 awful voice may be heard proclaiming, " cursed is 
 every one who continueth not in all things written 
 in the book of the law to do them" — " death is 
 the wages of sin" — ^perish the sinner, perish the 
 whole guilty race of man, rather than that the law 
 they have violated, a law so holy, just, and good, 
 should be dishonoured or annulled. Sooner shall 
 heaven and earth j)ass away than one jot or tittle 
 of it be changed. But, blessed be God, there is 
 another and still louder voice, its tones sweeter than 
 the sweetest melodies of ano^els, echoins^ and re- 
 echoing perpetually even in this world into which 
 sin entered and where death reigns, publishing to 
 all nations, yea offering to every creature, eternal 
 14 
 
202 THE PRINCETON PULPIT. 
 
 life as the free gift of God. It is the voice of Him, 
 who though the "b Tightness of the Father's glory 
 and the express image of his person," came down 
 from heaven, appeared on earth in the likeness of 
 sinful flesh, was made under the law, that he might 
 " magnify it and make it honourable" by his own 
 perfect obedience, and by the shedding of his own 
 precious blood. Now, the preparation which we 
 are required to make, consists in the exercise "of 
 repentance towards God and faith towards our 
 Lord Jesus Christ." The first and great command 
 of the Gospel is — "Believe in the Lord Jesus 
 Christ and thou shalt be saved." — " He bore our 
 sins in His own body." — " He died the just for the 
 unjust." The curse which the law denounces 
 against all who break it, He has endured in our 
 room. This atoning work of Jesus in the place of 
 the sinner forms the grand theme of revelation, 
 and hence the very Gosj)el which unfolds the infini- 
 tude of God's love and mercy, at the same time fur- 
 nishes the universe with a proof the most convinc- 
 ing and appalling, that " He can by no means 
 clear the guilty," in the way of arbitrarily setting 
 aside, or of modifying in any manner the demands 
 of His own I'ighteous law. The very Gospel, 
 which brings life and immortality to light, empha- 
 tically proclaims that sin andsufi'ering are conjoined 
 by a law immutable as the eternal throne. My 
 dear hearer, it is surely needless for me to bring 
 arguments to substantiate the charge that you are 
 a sinner against God. Your own conscience con- 
 fesses it, " your own heart condemns" you. Well, 
 
D.D. 203 
 
 this word of Him wlio cannot lie tells yon, in 
 terms too plain to be misunderstood, tliat perish 
 you must, forever, unless saved through the right- 
 eousness and atonement of the Son of God, " Hea- 
 ven and earth shall pass away, but one jot or tittle 
 of the law cannot ftiil." 
 
 Let me, m conclusion, add as a word of warning, 
 that the instrument with which the devil most 
 successfully assails the young and the old, is scej^ti- 
 cism in regard to the momentous truth taught in 
 the text. This is his grand temptation and was 
 the weapon with which he gained his dismal 
 triumph over the common mother of our race. 
 " Why not eat of the tree of knowledge," he asked, 
 " that stands in the midst of the garden — its form 
 so beautiful to the sight, its fruit so sweet to the 
 taste ?" " I am under a law," replied Eve, " that 
 forbids me to touch it, and it is enforced by the 
 awful penalty of death." "But surely," rejoined 
 the tempter, "you must have misapprehended the 
 meaning of your Maker ; it is not to be supposed 
 that He will ever inflict upon you a punishment so 
 dreadful for an offence so trifling." Alas ! " She 
 took, she ate, earth felt the wound, and Nature 
 from her seat sighing, gave signs of woe that all 
 was lost." 
 
 Precisely so does the same " father of lies " de- 
 ceive the youth with reference to the connection 
 that subsists between the spring tide and the 
 summer and autumn of our present life. He who 
 is old enough to understand any thing, however 
 inconsiderate of the personal bearing of the truth. 
 
204 THE PEIISrCETON PULPIT. 
 
 knows perfectly well that lie must sow tlie seed 
 if lie would reap the harvest. Reason teaches him 
 the lesson; the revolving seasons ever and anon 
 remind him of it ; while the blessed Bible, as often 
 as he reads or listens to it, proclaims it with the 
 majesty and earnestness of a messenger from heaven, 
 yet he is perpetually forgetting it, and living as if 
 the present had not the slightest influence upon 
 the future. I will venture to aver that, among the 
 youth now before me, hardly one could be found 
 who at its entrance into college did not firmly 
 resolve to win for himself the highest honours of the 
 institution; who as he for the first time came in 
 sio'ht of these academic halls did not feel the 
 stirrings of ambition, and whisper, at least to his 
 own heart, the purpose to gain a standing in the 
 highest ranks of scholarship. For a while the reso- 
 lution tells with excellent eflect uj^on the habits of 
 the student ; but ere long something occurs to dis- 
 courage or divert him from his aim. He yields to 
 the temptation ; he loses a little ground ; unless he 
 be a young man of rare energy and resolute will he 
 goes more and more behind, though still unwilling 
 perhaps to abandon his early and fond hope. " It 
 is a long time yet before I reach the end of the 
 course," he may say to himself, " something may 
 yet turn up and enable me to make good what I 
 have lost." He knows not, and possibly never 
 learns until it be too late, that he is listening to a 
 syren voice which has lured myriads to ruin, or 
 lulled them into the sleep of death. What, let me 
 ask, would be the use of college life, what the 
 
JOHN F O R SYTir , D . D. 205 
 
 benefit of college culture, if tlie haLitually indolent 
 and the dissipated, by tlie spasmodic efforts of a 
 few days or weeks, could reach the same lofty posi- 
 tion for which the studious and the good have toiled 
 for years ? if, in a word, there was no law that con- 
 nected success with diligence, thorough scholarship 
 with painstaking study, the complete command 
 of one's powers with elaborate culture, and moral 
 influence with well tried virtue ! 
 
 And thus it is that Satan misleads and ruins the 
 old and the young for eternity as well as for time. 
 There is a law demanding their obedience ; a com- 
 mandment which " is exceeding broad," reaching 
 to the " thoughts and intents of the heart," as well 
 as the words and actions of the outward man, and 
 regulating all the manifold relations of life. It is 
 enforced by the most fearful penalty, for it declares 
 that the wages of sin is death. Eternal life is sus- 
 pended upon a full compliance with its demands 
 And yet there are multitudes who, though they 
 cannot but know from the teachings of God's word, 
 and the working of their own consciences, that 
 they are " condemned already," and are every 
 moment liable to fall into the hands of the liviuir 
 and sin-avenging God, allow themselves to be 
 beguiled into the belief that they shall somehow 
 escape. Eternity, they imagine, is a great way off ; 
 there is a long future before them, and though they 
 live in sin, something may turn up to save them 
 from hell. Thus a deceived heart leads them 
 astray, inducing them to act as if they had made a 
 covenant with death ; and thus they go on through 
 
206 THE PEINCETON PULPIT. 
 
 life, never dreaming that tliey are treasuring np 
 unto tliemselves wratli against tlie day of judg- 
 ment, because tliey will not listen to the warning 
 voice which is perpetually sounding in their ears, 
 " Heaven and earth may pass away, but one jot or 
 tittle of the law shall not fail." 
 
THE WORK OF GOD. 
 
 THE REV. J. ADDISON ALEXANDER, D.D. 
 
 PROFESS on IN THK THKOLOGICAL SEMINARY. 
 
 "Then saiil they unto Him, What shall we do that we might work the 
 works of God ? Jesus answered and said unto them. This is the work of 
 God, that ye believe on Him whom He hath sent." — John vi. 38, 29. 
 
 There was iiotliiDg peculiar in the circumstances 
 under wliich tliis question was originally asked and 
 answered ; ;tliat is, notliing so peculiar as to make 
 it less appropriate in a multitude of other cases. 
 It is one which may be asked at any time and in 
 any place. It is one which is asked, more or less 
 distinctly, more or less earnestly, in every country 
 and in every age. Some ask it listlessly, as if they 
 cared not for an answer. Some ask it with an 
 agonizing eagerness of importunity, as if their life 
 dej^ended on the answer. And between these there 
 are many intermediate gradations. But whether 
 whispered or shouted, shrieked or muttered, whe- 
 ther clothed in language or exj^ressed in act, this 
 question is still asked by men of all conditions and 
 all characters : " What shall we do that we may 
 work the works of God," i. <?., the works which He 
 requires and will accept, as means of reconciliation 
 or as titles to his favour ? 
 
208 THE PRIISr GET ON PULPIT. 
 
 There is much imj^lied or presupposed in this 
 momentous question. It assumes the being of 
 a God and one God, and of certain attributes es- 
 sential to His nature. However false the no- 
 tions entertained as to some of these, whoever 
 really believes in the existence of a God, must 
 believe that he is just as well as merciful, holy 
 and true as well as almighty and all- wise. The ques- 
 tion also takes for granted God's supremacy and 
 sovereign propriety in all his creatures, and their 
 dependence upon him for happiness, as well in this 
 life as in that which is to come. It may also be 
 said, tacitly, to take for granted the existence of 
 some alienation between God and man, and the ne- 
 cessity of something to conciliate the parties. The 
 very asking of the question implies ignorance of 
 what will please God ; and this ignorance implies a 
 state of alienation from Him. For a creature in actual 
 communion with his Maker must know what is due 
 to him and required by him. We cannot conceive 
 of unfallen angels asking, in the sense in which the 
 Jews asked, " What shall we do that we may work 
 the works of God V 
 
 As to all these points, the views of men in- 
 definitely vary in clearness and correctness. And 
 from this variety arises a corresponding differ- 
 ence in the sincerity and earnestness of the in- 
 quiry. But, excepting those who are in the 
 lowest stage of ignorance or insensibility, it 
 may be said without extravagance, that all men, 
 everywhere, desire to know, and show by their ac- 
 tions or their words that they desire to know, what 
 
J. A. ALEXANDER, D.D. 209 
 
 they must do to work the works of God, to gain 
 His favour, to avert His wrath. Why do the 
 worst of meu abstain from some forms of iniquity ? 
 In obedience to the voice of conscience ? Why this 
 voice is but a feeble echo of the voice of God, 
 often so faint, or so confused, as to bear a very 
 sli2;ht resemblance to the ori2:inal authoritative 
 utterance. But where it speaks at all, it speaks of 
 a law and a lawgiver, of a judgment, and of future 
 retribution. And the wicked man, who is deterred 
 by conscience from some sins though not from 
 others, goes just so far in endeavouring to work the 
 works of God, or at least in asking, " A'VTiat shall I 
 do that I may work the works of God V 
 
 But there are other ways in which the stress of 
 this necessity is much more visibly betrayed than in 
 the mere degrees of restraint or indulgence on the 
 part of sinful men. They not only ask, in word or 
 deed, what they must do to work the works of 
 God, but they actually undertake to work them, 
 according to their various ideas as to what they 
 are, and how they must be wrought. A rapid 
 glance at some of these attempts will throw light 
 on the question of the text, and, at the same time, 
 prepare us for the answer. One man imagines that 
 the works of God are works to be performed by 
 the members of the body, the hands, the knees, the 
 lips ; a pi-ayer, a genuflexion, an oblation, in and 
 of themselves, by some intrinsic efficacy of their 
 own, or magical eifect wrought by them, he sup- 
 poses will secure the divine favour and his own 
 salvation. This error certainly prevails most ex- 
 
210 THE PRINCETON PULPIT. 
 
 tensively among the lioatlien. But it also exists 
 among Mohammedans and Jews, and under the 
 corrupted forms of Christianity, and even in con- 
 nexion with its purest forms, where outward ser- 
 vices, no matter what, are once confounded with 
 the essence of reliofion. And where the error 
 thus exists, it is of course far more culpable and 
 far more ruinous, than where it nestles in the dark, 
 or gropes its way in twilight. But wherever found, 
 it always tends to one of two results. The man 
 who cherishes it is either blinded to his own de- 
 struction, and goes down to death with a lie in his 
 right hand, or he is forced by experience to own, 
 that he has not found what he sought, and to turn 
 away from the externals which have proved so un- 
 satisfying, still saying, as he said at first, but with 
 a sense of want, made more intense by tantalizing 
 disappointment : " What shall I do, that I may 
 work the works of God ?" 
 
 The next stage which he reaches, and which 
 others more enlightened reach at once, without 
 passing through this preparatory discipline, is that 
 of substituting moral for ceremonial acts. The 
 sinner undertakes to work the works of God by 
 acts of virtue, doing right and doing good, and 
 more especially by practising such acts of virtue 
 as are likely to secure the sympathy of men, and 
 thus confirm his favourable estimate of his own 
 performances, which might otherwise be marred by 
 an unquiet conscience. Hence the constant dispo- 
 sition to make social charities, not only almsgiving, 
 but every other exercise of mutual benevolence, 
 
J. A. ALEXANDEK, D.D. 211 
 
 tlie supreme if not the sole test of character. 
 Heuce the frequency with which we hear of men, 
 who are notoriously guilty of great sins, but 
 who are nevertheless rated, by themselves and 
 others, as a kind of irreligious saints, on account of 
 what is called their goodness of heart, a quality 
 not always incompatible with gross injustice and 
 habitual neglect of the most urgent duties, even to- 
 wards their neighbours, as well as with a total want 
 of love to God and of obedience to His will. In 
 this delusion thousands live and die. But others 
 are still goaded on by conscience to a fresh disco- 
 very that even this is not enough. The applauses 
 of the world cannot prevent their seeing that how- 
 ever good their works may be in one sense, they 
 are wholly insufficient in another; and they there- 
 fore come once more with the unsatisfied inquiry 
 on their lips, or in their hearts, and in their looks : 
 " What shall we do, that we may work the works 
 of God ?" We have tried to do right and to do 
 good to our neighbours. But we find that even 
 these good works are still imperfect, and that other 
 duties have been utterly neglected, and that sins 
 have been committed, and that all these arrears 
 have been accumulating with a terrible rapidity, so 
 that the good we have attempted shrinks to noth- 
 ing in comparison with that which we have left un- 
 done, and with the positive evil which we have 
 committed. With all this staring us in the face, 
 and stopping up our path, in which direction shall 
 we turn ? With this sense of deficiency, even in 
 our best deeds, and this consciousness of positive 
 
212 THE PRINCETON PULPIT. 
 
 transgression, " what shall we do that we may 
 work the works of God ?" 
 
 The man has now been brought, by a way that 
 he knew not, to the doctrine of atonement, the 
 necessity of expiation, something to satisfy God's 
 justice and to heal the breach of his broken law. 
 With this predominant imj)ression, he may readily 
 infer, that the works of God are works of compen- 
 sation. He must make good his past failures, and 
 make up for past offences, and by so doing work 
 the works of God at last. But where shall he be- 
 gin ? Perhaps with negative attempts at reforma- 
 tion, by refraining from sins hitherto indulged. 
 The unexpected difficulty here encountered drives 
 him from reformation to repentance. He will weep 
 with unfeigned sorrow over his oifences. He will 
 break his own heart with contrition, and move the 
 heart of God with pity, by his penitential grief. But 
 the same imj)erfection which had marred his refor- 
 mation still adheres to his repentance. If sin could 
 only be excluded for a moment, he might do it. 
 But the sin that he has reason to repent of is not 
 merely in his life, but in his heart, his very nature. 
 Its action cannot be suspended any more than his 
 existence, by an act of his own will. It will in- 
 trude into the pangs of his repentance and pervert 
 them. He can no more break his heart than he 
 can change his life. The one still remains hard, 
 and the other still corrupt. His repentance needs 
 itself to be reformed ; his reformation needs itself 
 to be repented of. So far from satisfying God's 
 offended justice for past sins, they are themselves 
 
J. A. ALEXANDEE, D.D. 213 
 
 provocative of that very justice ; and the sinner 
 al)andoning this effort too, asks, almost in despair : 
 What shall I do, that I may work the works of 
 God. 
 
 What has just been described may be regarded 
 as the highest ground that man ever reaches by 
 a light of his own kindling. If he goes beyond 
 this, under the same guidance, he must needs go 
 down. And some accordingly descend from the 
 sincere but vain attempt at reformation and repent- 
 ance in their own strength, to the lower ground of 
 meritorious abstinence and self-mortification, from 
 repentance to penance, from the humbling of the 
 soul to the humbling of the body, from inward 
 grief to sackcloth and ashes, from vain attempts 
 to abstain from what is evil, to real abstinence from 
 what is not. Because they have not been able to 
 appease God by renounciug sinful pleasures, they 
 will now try to do it by renouncing innocent enjoy- 
 ments. Because they have tried in vain to do what 
 he commanded, they will now retrieve the failure 
 by doing what is not commanded at all. Here is 
 the secret of that comj)licated system of will-wor- 
 ship and voluntary humility, which is continually 
 slaying its thousands and its tens of thousands, 
 while a few are driven by it to repeat the question, 
 still unanswered in their own experience : What 
 shall we do that we may work the works of God ? 
 
 Another descent, quite as great, though in a 
 difierent direction, leads to a kind of desperate 
 transfer of responsibility. As the sinner cannot 
 work the works of God himself, the church or 
 
214 THE PRINCETON PULPIT. 
 
 the priest sliall do it for liim. He remains qui- 
 escent, and endeavours to be satisfied with his reli- 
 gious privileges or his ecclesiastical connexions. 
 He persuades himself that he is like the cripple at 
 Bethesda, waiting for the troubling of the waters. 
 He cannot do the angel's work ; it is enough if he 
 is there to profit by it. This indolent reliance 
 u23on some one else to do what the man himself has 
 tried in vain, is far more common, even in the 
 purest churches, than we may imagine. It is in 
 fact a kind of misplaced faith. The self-renuncia- 
 tion and reliance on another, which it involves, 
 would be effectual if exercised upon the proper 
 object. But when men cease theii* self-righteous 
 eftbi-ts, only to trust in their connexions and ad- 
 vantages, only to think that they are safe because 
 they are within the church and in jDOSsession of the 
 gospel, the error is so monstrous and yet so insidi- 
 ous, that nothing but the sovereign grace of God 
 could rouse some, as it does continually, even from 
 this stagnant, nay this petrified condition, to in- 
 quire with more solicitude than ever. What shall 
 we do, that we may work the works of God ? 
 
 There is no need of insisting, or attempting to 
 demonstrate, that these various degrees and forms 
 of error always follow one another in the actual 
 experience of a single person. The connexion 
 pointed out between them may be rather theoret- 
 ical than practical. It is not, however, for that 
 reason the less real, being founded on the prin- 
 ciples of human nature, and the mutual relations 
 both of truth and error. Sometimes, moreover, 
 
D.D. 215 
 
 tlie transitions are realized in actual experience. 
 To one man more, to another less, of wliat has now 
 been described must be confirmed by memory as a 
 part of his own spiritual history. In one or an- 
 other, or in several, or in all, of the ways enumer- 
 ated, some of you, my hearers, may have been in- 
 duced to ask with growing earnestness and impor- 
 tunity : What shall we do that we may work the 
 works of God ? 
 
 Come then with me to the only oracle, from 
 which a satisfactory response can be expected. 
 Come to Him, to whom the Jews put the same 
 question of old, and receive from Him the same re- 
 ply. " Then said they unto him : what shall 
 we do that we might work the works of God. 
 Jesus answered and said unto them : this is the 
 work of God, that ye believe on him whom 
 he hath sent." The whole j^oint of this answer 
 lies in the contrast been working and believ- 
 ing. Their minds were full of work. They wanted 
 something to work out for their own salvation. 
 They would probably not have been surprised or 
 startled had he enjoined upon them any task, how- 
 ever difficult, provided that by doing it they might 
 have claimed to work the works of God. To a 
 truly self-righteous spirit, difficulty, danger, pain, 
 are all inducements rather than dissuasives. They 
 enhance the merit and the honour of success, and 
 therefore stimulate the pride of the performer. 
 This has often been exemplified in the extraordi- 
 nary abstinences, toils, and self-inflicted torments, 
 both of Christian and heathen devotees. And the 
 
216 THE PEINCETON PULPIT. 
 
 same cause miglit doubtless Lave produced the 
 same effects iij)on some of our Lord's contempo- 
 raries. Had lie required tliem to scale the lieaveus 
 or to sound the seas, they miglit have vainly under- 
 taken it. Had he told them to lacerate tlieir flesh, 
 or to give the fruit of their body for the sin of their 
 souls, th.ey might have obeyed without a murmur, 
 But a requisition to believe, and to believe on 
 him, was something altogether different. The 
 belief required comprebended a belief of his di- 
 vine legation and authority as well as a belief of 
 his ability and willingness to save. But it likewise 
 comprehended, as inseparable from these, a simple 
 trust in him for personal salvation, and a free and 
 full consent to be saved by him. The complexity 
 sometimes charged upon the Christian doctrine of 
 faith is not greater than exists in any analogous or 
 corresponding case. Tell the drowning man to be 
 of good cheer for you will save him, and you call 
 upon him to perform as many acts as are included 
 in the exercise of saving faith. For in the first 
 place, you invite him to believe the truth of your 
 assertions. In the next place, you invite him to 
 confide in your ability and willingness to save him. 
 In the last place, you invite him to consent to your 
 proposal by renouncing every other ho2:)e and agree- 
 ing to be saved by you. There is nothing more 
 abstruse or diflicult in saving faith. The difference 
 is not in the essential nature of the mental acts and 
 exercises, but in the circumstances under w^hich they 
 are performed. 
 
 It was this very simple and implicit trust, how- 
 
J. A. ALEXANDER, D.D. 217 
 
 ever, that created all tlie difficulty in the miuds of 
 some of Christ's immediate hearers. They had 
 emphatically asked for work, for something to be 
 wrought out by themselves, and in reply he told 
 them to believe, to trust ; and that not as some- 
 thing over and above the works which they de- 
 manded, but instead of them. He does not say, 
 before or besides the works of God which you de- 
 manded, you must believe on me. He says, " This 
 is itself the work of God, that ye believe on him 
 whom he hath sent." 
 
 The same feeling of surprise and sense of incon- 
 gruity may be excited now by this reply to the de- 
 mand in question. In answer to a call for work, no 
 matter how hard, nay the harder the better, to say, 
 trust, believe, may look at first like an evasion or 
 a mockery. And men may even now be slow to 
 understand, and still more slow to credit, this ex- 
 traordinary substitute for meritorious and labori- 
 ous work, as a serious proposition, and indeed the 
 only revealed method of salvation. It seems to 
 cast unmerited contempt upon the eiforts men have 
 made, or are willing now to make, in their own 
 strength, and as it were, at their own cost and risk. 
 Is all this ex]3enditure of time and labour to be 
 slighted and contemptuously thrown away ? Are all 
 these tears and groans and fasts and vigils, all this 
 blood and all this treasure, all this doing and alj- 
 staining, all this action and this suffering, to go for 
 nothing ? After spending a whole lifetime in thus 
 working out my own salvation for myself, must I 
 be told at last that I have only to believe ? 
 15 
 
218 THE PRINCETON PULPIT. 
 
 This state of mind may be compared to tliat of 
 men who have been shut up for years in a dark 
 dungeon, and by incredible exertion, slow and secret 
 toils, have pierced, as they supposed, the massive 
 walls of their prison. The assiduity and constancy, 
 with which such labours may be plied through a 
 long course of years, have often been exemplified 
 in real life. The eagerness with which the oppor- 
 tunity is watched, the ingenious devices to elude 
 suspicioli, and the still more ingenious substitutes 
 for ordinary means and instruments, the unwearied 
 patience with which the work has been resumed 
 and even recommenced when interrupted, and the 
 feverish anxiety with which the moment of com- 
 plete success is supposed to be approaching ; all 
 these are familiar facts in the biography of more 
 than one famous captive, as recorded by themselves. 
 But suppose that at one of these critical conjunc- 
 tures, when the almost superhuman toil of many 
 years seems about to be rewarded by success, a 
 stranger suddenly appears among the disconcerted 
 labourers and commands them to desist and trust 
 in him alone for freedom. It is easy to imagine 
 the suspicion with which such a call would be re- 
 ceived, and the demand for evidence, like that 
 made by the Jews on hearing the unexpected words 
 of the text. " They said therefore unto him : What 
 sign showest thou then, that we may see and be- 
 lieve thee? what dost thou work?" And even 
 after their misgiving, in the case which I have been 
 supposing, was allayed by a sufficient attestation, 
 it is easy to imagine that the startled prisoners 
 
J. A. ALEXANDER, D.D. 219 
 
 miglit look with some regret upon tlieir imple- 
 ments of labour, and the patient toil of many years, 
 now superseded and made useless. For a mo- 
 ment, we may even go so far as to conceive of 
 some as balancing between the unexpected offer of 
 immediate liberation, and the toilsome method of 
 obtaining it to which they have become accustom- 
 ed by long habit. But beyond this momentary he- 
 sitation, it is inconceivable that any one should go 
 in his rejection of the offered freedom, unless stu- 
 pified and maddened by captivity. When the mo- 
 ment of decision comes, we may expect to see them 
 all, without fail and without regret, turning their 
 back upon the toils of many years, and joyfully 
 following their new deliverer to the fresh air and 
 the sunshine of the world without. 
 
 In like manner, they who have long been 
 subjected to the bondage of corruption, and 
 have toiled in vain to set themselves at liberty, 
 when first made to hear and understand the de- 
 claration, that the saving work which God re- 
 quires of them is to trust in Jesus Christ whom 
 He has sent, may feel unwilling to abandon their 
 long-cherished plans and methods of self-righteous- 
 ness. But this reluctance soon subsides, and they 
 address themselves to the consideration of the 
 question, what is meant by calling faith in Christ 
 the work of God, which men must do in order to 
 appease His wrath and conciliate his favour? At 
 first, perhaps, they may imagine, as indeed some 
 have expressly taught, that the act of thus be- 
 lieving is accepted as a meritorious act in lieu of 
 
220 THE PRINCETON PULPIT. 
 
 all tlie rest, so that he wlio performs this work is 
 considered as performing all the other " works of 
 God." In this sense some have understood our 
 Saviour's saying : " This is the work of God, that 
 ye believe on Him whom He hath sent." That is 
 to say, this act is so acceptable to God, that for the 
 sake of it he will relinquish all his other claims, 
 and reckon you as innocent or righteous. But 
 how can this be reconciled with truth and God's 
 inexorable justice ? How can any one act of a sin- 
 ner, all whose other acts are sinful, be not only free 
 from sin but so peculiarly acceptaljle to God as to 
 supply the place of jierfect and perpetual obedi- 
 ence ? If it be said, that faith has no such merit 
 in itself, but God is pleased, in sovereign condescen- 
 sion, so to estimate it and reward it ; then the ques- 
 tion arises, why even this should be required. For 
 if God can by a sovereign act forgive all men's 
 offences, for the sake of this one deed, he might 
 forgive them without any such condition, and the 
 death of Christ becomes a cruel superfluity. The 
 faith which he describes as the saving " work of 
 God," is faith in Himself as a Saviour and a sacri- 
 fice. The meritorious ground of acceptance, there- 
 fore, cannot l)e the act of believing, but must be 
 something in the thing believed. Unless the death 
 of Christ be utterly unmeaning and inefficacious, it 
 is inconceivable that the mere act of believing is a 
 meritorious substitute for all the other acts which 
 might have been demanded of the sinner. 
 
 From this over-estimate of human merit in the ex- 
 ercise of faith, men sometimes run into the opposite 
 
J. A. ALEXANDER, D.D. 221 
 
 extreme, and liold tliatsimi^le trust or faith in Christ 
 dispenses with all moral obligation. They admit 
 that the sinner has no merit, but deny that he 
 has need of any, either another's or his own, to re- 
 commend him to God's favour. The divine mercy 
 to our lost race they consider as consisting in the 
 nullification of the law and its demands. Faith is 
 a saving act, not because of any merit in it, but be- 
 cause it acquiesces in the divine renunciation of all 
 claim upon men's hearts or lives. It is a mere con- 
 sent to do nothing or to do as they please, and a 
 belief that God will exact nothing of them and ex- 
 pect nothing from them. When Christ says, there- 
 fore, " this is the work of God, that ye believe on 
 Ilim whom He hath sent," it is equivalent to say- 
 ing, there is no work to be done, and you have only 
 to believe that there is none, in order to be saved. 
 Now all this, I need scarcely say, is utterly at vari- 
 ance with the constant requisition of obedience, 
 even from believers, and the uniform teaching of 
 the Scripture, that " without holiness no man can 
 see the Lord." This last erroneous view is the 
 more dangerous because, irrational as it may seem, 
 it is really a counterfeit or caricature of the true 
 doctrine. It is right in representing faith in Christ, 
 not as a meritorious act suppljdng all deficiencies, 
 but as a mere reception of God's mercy, offered and 
 exercised in Christ alone. It is only wrong, 
 fatally and ruinously wrong, in representing a 
 the object of their faith a sheer renunciation of 
 God's claims on man's obedience, both in reference 
 to the past and future, so that no atonement is re- 
 
222 THE PEINCETON PULPIT. 
 
 quired for one, and no reform or new obedience for 
 the other. The inevitable tendency of such a doc- 
 trine is to " go on in sin that grace may abound." 
 It is the doctrine of those who, as much as in them 
 lies, make Christ the minister of sin ; the language 
 of whose hearts and lives is, " let us do evil that 
 good may come;" of whom we may, without a 
 breach of charity, repeat the apostolical anathema, 
 " whose damnation is just." It is surely not of 
 such that we are to learn the meaning of Christ's 
 solemn declaration : " This is the work of God, 
 that ye believe on Him whom He hath sent." 
 
 The true meaning of the words, in their obvious ac- 
 ceptation, and as interpreted by other Scriptures, may 
 be briefly summed up under two particulars. The 
 first is, that our access to God and restoration to His 
 favour are entirely independent of all merit or obe- 
 dience upon our part. Neither the act of faith, nor 
 any other act, nor all our acts and abstinences put 
 together, can contribute in the least to our accept- 
 ance, as a meritorious ground or a procuring cause. 
 The very impossibility of such a purchase consti- 
 tutes the absolute necessity of Christ's atoning sa- 
 crifice. The three main facts of our condition are, 
 that we are sinners, that our sins must be atoned 
 for, and that we cannot atone for them. To meet 
 this desperate emergency, by doing what was other- 
 wise impossible, God sent his Son to take our place, 
 to obey the law for us, and bear its penalty, incur- 
 red by previous transgression. The saving benefit 
 of this great substitution and atonement is freely 
 offered to us in the Gospel. Unreserved accept- 
 
J. A. ALEXANDER, D.D. 223 
 
 ance of it must of course exclude all reliance upon 
 any merit of our own, and on that supposed to re- 
 side in the act of faith as well as every other. Un- 
 reserved acceptance of Christ's merit and atone- 
 ment, to the exclusion of all other, is itself the 
 foith required, and since this is all that we are 
 called upon to do, as the procuring cause of our sal- 
 vation, that is, simply to rely on Christ, and not 
 upon ourselves or any other creature, it is no won- 
 der that when self-righteous sinners ask Him, " what 
 shall we do, that we may work the works of God ?" 
 His answer was, and still is, and still will be, till the 
 day of grace is past forever, " this is the work of 
 God, that ye believe on Him whom He hath sent/' 
 If this view of the matter should still seem to fa- 
 vour antinomian license, such an impression is at 
 once removed by looking at the other particular re- 
 ferred to, as essential to a full disclosure of the doc- 
 trine of the Bible upon this momentous subject. It 
 is this, that if God, without denial of himself, could 
 have forgiven sin and saved the sinner, by a sove- 
 reign act, without requiring an atonement, then he 
 might have spared, and must have spared, the un- 
 told agonies endured by his Son. That these were 
 not spared, is itself a demonstration that atonement 
 was absolutely necessary. And this absolute ne- 
 cessity implies that God's design, in saving man, 
 was not to set aside the law, but to magnify and 
 honour it. And this proof of His purpose, with 
 respect to what is past, is a sufficient index of His 
 will as to the future, a sufficient proof that He does 
 not save men in sin but from sin, and that when be- 
 
224 THE PRINCETOX PULPIT. 
 
 lief in Clirist is represented as tlae saving work 
 which God requires, it is not to the exclusion of 
 good works in those who shall be saved, but rather 
 as the source from which they are to flow, the only 
 means by which they can even become possible. 
 Whoever then would " work the works of God," in 
 the most comprehensive sense, must begin by doing 
 this, by believing on his Son, and then the rest 
 may be expected to follow, not as conditions of sal- 
 vation, which the faith itself has already appro- 
 priated and secured, but as the fragrant flowers 
 and delicious fruits of that prolific seed which at 
 the moment of believing was implanted in the 
 heart by the almighty grace of God. To this, to 
 all this, we are called in every invitation of the 
 Gospel. If, with all this in our view, we are dis- 
 posed to ask, as multitudes have asked before, and 
 as thousands are now asking all around us, " what 
 shall we do, that we may work the works of God ?" 
 the same Christ still stands ready to reply to us, as 
 to the Jews of old, " this is the work of God, that 
 ye believe on Him whom He hath sent." 
 
GOD THE GUIDE OF HIS BLIND PEOPLE. 
 
 BT 
 
 THE REV. WM. E. SCHENCK, 
 
 PASTOR OF THE FIRST PRESBYTERIAN CHURCH. 
 
 " I will bring the blind by a way they know not." — Isaiah xlii. 16. 
 
 True wisdom will confirm tlie decision of Scrip- 
 ture, not only as to spiritual things, but as to all 
 things, w^hen it says, " If any man tliinketli that he 
 knoweth any things" i. e.^ if he regard himself as per- 
 fect in knowledge, " he knoweth nothing yet as he 
 ought to know." It is only the ignorant man who 
 can feel that he knows everything. And the more 
 truly well-informed an individual becomes, the 
 more ready is he to confess, not only that he 
 does not, but also that he cannot know much. 
 Even as to external objects, things which fall under 
 the cognizance of the senses, it cannot be said that 
 we perfectly know them. The veriest child may 
 ask questions about a straw or a clod of earth, 
 which the wisest philosopher would be unable to 
 answer. The question, what is matter ? or gravi- 
 tation ? or light ? or heat ? or time ? or space ? can- 
 not be answered. We know many things about 
 their appearances and laws, but what they are, no 
 man can tell. In every blade of grass, and breath 
 
226 THE PEIKCETON PULPIT. 
 
 of air, in tlie formation of our own bodies, in tlie 
 nature of the animal life whicli we possess, in all 
 tilings around us and within us, there are myste- 
 ries — things yet unlearned by man. If we look 
 forth upon the universe of God, the little circle of 
 light by which we are surrounded, is perceived to 
 be itself surrounded by an illimitable circumference 
 of darkness. The most powerful optic-glass helps 
 not so much to perfect our knowledge, as to reveal 
 to us the vastness of our ignorance. Hence, Sir 
 Isaac Newton, who astonished the civilized world 
 by his discoveries, and whose name stands among 
 the brightest and most imperishable upon the an- 
 nals of all human science, declared, when far in 
 the decline of life, that " he seemed to himself to 
 have been like a child, picking here and there a 
 pebble on the shore, while the vast ocean of truth 
 yet lay undiscovered before him." 
 
 If we pass from material to spiritual objects, we 
 are yet more emphatically ignorant and blind. 
 Leave out of view the teachings of God's word, and 
 what do we know of the spiritual world? Can 
 we tell what orders of intelligences dwell there ? 
 or what may be the mode of their existence ? or 
 what their moral character? or what connection 
 they may have with us, and what influence over 
 us ? We must resort not to the poet, but to the in- 
 spired writer to ascertain the fact that 
 
 Millions of spiritual beings walk the earth 
 Unseen, both when we sleep, and when we wake. 
 
 We are surrounded by principalities, and powers. 
 
WILLIAM E. SCIIENCK. 227 
 
 and nnnlstering spirits, who are ever active, for 
 weal or woe, iu influencing our conduct, in guiding 
 our steps, in aiding to fix our everlasting destinies. 
 Man does not probably so much influence man ; the 
 friends and relatives and business associates, by 
 whom you are each surrounded from day to day, do 
 not prol)ably exercise so much influence over your 
 present conduct and everlasting destiny as unseen 
 intelligences, good and bad, are doing. Yet what 
 do we know of them, save what the Bible tells us ? 
 Nothing — absolutely nothing. We walk amidst 
 these spiritual beings as men walk amidst their 
 fellow-men, when in total darkness or in blindness. 
 We see them not — we know them not. 
 
 If we look to our own path or progress in life, 
 (and it is this fact more especially which is assumed 
 in our text,) we find ourselves not at all better in- 
 formed concerning that which lies before us. We 
 walk forward in the path of life, as men walk who 
 grope their way in a strange road, step by step, in 
 total blindness. We have no faculty of the mind 
 by which we can penetrate the future, as memory 
 can penetrate the past. There is a thick curtain 
 hung across our course, so thick that the most pene- 
 trating gaze can never pierce it, nor the most saga- 
 cious contrivance ever rend it ; a curtain which re- 
 cedes before us as we advance, but only step by 
 step, yet revealing to us at each advance, things 
 most unexpected, often most undesired, frequently 
 most startling in their nature. All human wisdom 
 has never yet devised a way to ascertain what a 
 single day or hour may bring forth. Men have 
 
228 THE PEINCETON PULPIT. 
 
 earnestly longed to know the future, and have tried 
 to know it, but without success. The extent to 
 which astrology and fortune-telling and similar im- 
 positions have been patronised in every age, shows 
 how eagerly men would know, if they could, what 
 lies before them. But auguries, and omens, and 
 oracles, and every kindred device, however ingeni- 
 ously contrived, and with whatever skill practised, 
 have failed to draw aside the veil which hides futu- 
 rity from sight. 
 
 With what truthfulness therefore do the words 
 of our text — with what truthfulness does the word 
 of God everywhere, represent men — especially in 
 their natural state — as blind ; as persons who can- 
 not see before them the path in which they walk, 
 but who are also walking in a new and strange 
 path ; a path with which no information to be ac- 
 quired from others can render them familiar. 
 
 Now, this view of our situation may seem dark 
 and gloomy. But admitting it to be so, is it less 
 true^ because dark and gloomy ? We admit that it 
 is to him who is forsretful of his God and unrecon- 
 ciled to Him, an awe-inspiring glimpse of his pre- 
 sent situation. And we would that every forgetter 
 of God in this assembly might feel it to be so. 
 How know you, O man, O woman, whose pursuits, 
 and plans, and pleasures all have reference to this 
 life, and who art either carelessly or confidently 
 trusting to unaided human wisdom — how know you 
 that 3^ou may not be wanderiug even now in the 
 by-paths of error and delusion to the ruin of your 
 soul ? How know you that some awful precipice 
 
WILLIAM E. SCIIENCK. 229 
 
 may not be near at liaud across tlie very path in 
 wliicli you tread ? How know you that your foot 
 may not be pressing even now the brink, so that a 
 single step may plunge you into the bottomless pit ? 
 You cannot know it. You are not sure that this 
 very day may not bring forth your everlasting 
 ruin. 
 
 But the word of God does not more explicitly 
 reveal to us our ignorance and blindness, than it 
 oiFers to us a great and infallible guide. " I will 
 bring the blind by a way that they know not," 
 says Jehovah himself. It is a promise, made, as the 
 previous context shows, with a reference to the Sa- 
 viour's coming and His work. It is a promise made 
 to the children of God, in their natural state, as 
 blind and ignorant as others, and exposed to the 
 same dangers. Tliey should be led in a way that 
 they knew not. Their course should be one that 
 was not of their own choosing. And it was to be 
 a course at every stage and turn unexpected and 
 surprising. 
 
 Let our minds be now directed then to the in- 
 quiry, whether or no this promise is verified in the 
 experience of God's people. Can we perceive in 
 the way by which they are led along, anything so 
 new and unexpected — so without or even so con- 
 trary to their own plans and anticipations that we 
 may believe there is a superhuman wisdom planning 
 for them, and a hand of infinite power leading them 
 along ? 
 
 I. In answer to this question we first reply, that 
 
230 THE PKINCETOlSr PULPIT. 
 
 sucli a guidance may be traced iu the dealings of 
 God with His children hy His ])rovidence. 
 
 A recent historian of the Keformation has placed 
 in the forefront of his immortal work this sentence 
 respecting it. " This history takes as its guiding- 
 star the simple and pregnant truth that God is in 
 liistwyy''^ And that single sentence contains a 
 world of important truth. Other historians have 
 sought to make their books valuable and valued by 
 means of accurate and learned statements ; by pic- 
 turesqueness and beauty of description ; by deep 
 and philosophical reflections, but almost without 
 exception they have forgotten this cardinal truth, 
 that the hand of God has wrought in all the aftairs 
 of men. They have described the rise and fall of 
 nations ; the changes, progress, and convulsions of 
 the nations of the earth ; but amidst the establish- 
 ment and overthrow of thrones, the intrigues of po- 
 liticians and the clang of arms, they have forgotten 
 the chief, even the first cause of all — God, " work- 
 ing all things according to the counsel of His own 
 will." And no little share of our forgetfulness of 
 God may be attributed to that silent lie of all our 
 histories, which has kept out of view the important 
 fact, that " God is not far from every one of us." 
 
 The recorded history of the Jewish nation aftbrds 
 a beautiful illustration of the truth, that God is ac- 
 tive in all human affairs. Had that history been 
 for the first time written out by an uninspired hand, 
 it had no doubt differed little from other histories. 
 We should have had a minute, and perhaps, as to 
 
 * DAubignc"8 Hist, of the Reformation, preface. 
 
WILLIAM E. SCIIENCK. 231 
 
 outward tilings, an accurate account of the Jewish 
 origin in Abraham, and thence down to the Re- 
 deemer's time, with all the long series of outward 
 changes, while the presence and power of God had 
 been almost unseen and unthought of, and the va- 
 rious wonderful turns in their affairs been, as far as 
 possible, ascribed to, and explained by, merely na- 
 tural causes. But God became Himself the author 
 of that history. The Holy Ghost enabled holy 
 men to perceive and to record tlie truth. And 
 hence, in every event of Jewish history, we see 
 the hand of God, not only in its miraculous, but in 
 its most ordinary occurrences. The veil was di-awn 
 aside, and the cause of this thing and of that thing 
 was seen in the Divine Mnd, as well as in nature 
 and in man. And had God inspired another jjro- 
 phet to write the history of any other nation, yea, 
 had God inspired a prophet to write your indivi- 
 dual history, my hearer, or my own, I doubt not 
 we should be startled and astonished to see how 
 busy the hand of God had been in its every stage 
 and turn. I know we should be made to feel as we 
 have never felt, that if there is less of miracle, 
 there is no less of Providence around us now, 
 than was around the Jews in the days of their 
 theocracy. 
 
 And yet, blinded as our understandings are by 
 sin, and heedless as we are of the hand of God 
 while it works, we can often clearly see the traces 
 of that hand when its work is done. However 
 tame and commonplace his course of life, I venture 
 to assert, that there is not one among my audience 
 
232 THE PEINCETON PULPIT. 
 
 w-lio can sit down in still retirement, and take a 
 careful and candid retrospect througli adult years 
 back to the scenes of cliildkood's early days, wko 
 will not feel the calm, conviction steal in upon his 
 soul, that there has been an unseen hand leading 
 him in paths that he knew not. The assertion of 
 the poet finds a res]3onse, not only in our experience, 
 but also in the very depths of our dependent na- 
 ture, when he says. 
 
 There's a divinity which shapes our ends, 
 Rough-hew them how we will. 
 
 This same sentiment was uttered only in other 
 words by a more infallible poet and philosopher 
 when he said long before, " The heart of a man de- 
 viseth his way, but the Lord directeth his steps." 
 Did you ever try the experiment of taking such a 
 calm and careful retrospect ? If not, no wonder 
 if the doctrine of a special Providence has taken 
 little hold upon your mind and heart. Try, I be- 
 seech you, the profitable experiment, and see if you 
 be not convinced. Tear yourself away from the 
 busy world which now crowds upon your thoughts, 
 and from the relations which now bind you to the 
 present, and flee back to the sunny days of child- 
 hood. Surround yourself again with the smiles of 
 those whom you then loved, and on whom you then 
 leaned for happiness. Call back the gladsome, 
 buoyant spirit which then dwelt within your bo- 
 som. Bid memory again paint upon the canvas of 
 your soul the sunlit landscape of the future. Bid 
 her re-colour the faded and almost forgotten visions 
 
AV I L L I A 31 E . S C II E X C K . 233 
 
 of future enjoyment. Bid lier delineate afresh tlie 
 erased and neglected plans for future usefulness, 
 success, and happiness. And tlien, when you have 
 done well and carefully all this, go forward and re- 
 tread the path of life, carrying with you those re- 
 covered plans and pictures of the future, and at 
 each step compare the anticipation or resolve with 
 the reality. And how do they agree ? All how ? 
 You meant to do so and so. Did you do it ? You 
 meant to be so and so. Did you fulfil your design ? 
 Did you even always alter your designs voluntarily 
 as you went forward ? Although ignorant of your 
 history, I answer for you — you did not. You found 
 unforeseen circumstances arising all along the way 
 to alter your determinations and to change your 
 course. Now some seeming accident occurred, per- 
 haps the veriest offspring of a moment, to mar 
 your plan. Here some unexpected reverse of for- 
 tune overtook you, which with all your wisdom and 
 exertions you could not avert. There some be- 
 reavement snatched away a relative or friend, 
 whose dej^arture dashed many a fond hope, and 
 threw many a well-laid scheme into confusion. And 
 how many parts of life, unpainted in your youthful 
 picture, have you not encountered ! Passions have 
 been stirred up which you never meant should 
 have a place within your bosom. Trials and 
 troubles and temptations have occurred, the nature 
 and perhaps the very existence of which you knew 
 not of when you started on your journey. Friends 
 whom you deemed true as truth itself, have forgot- 
 ten you, perchance have become your enemies. 
 16 
 
234 THE PKiisrcETOisr pulpit. 
 
 Sickness lias laid you upon beds of languisliing, 
 and brouglit you to tlie brink of eternity, or per- 
 Laps lias more permanently benumbed your suscep- 
 tibilities for enjoyment. And so by a thousand un- 
 foreseen incidents, you liave been led by a way 
 that you knew not, and reached to-day a position, 
 both as to inward character and outward relations 
 to the world, which it was no part of your original 
 plan to reach. Is it not so ? And now as you con- 
 trast your present self with your former picture of 
 your then future self, does not either this or that, 
 as the case may be, seem to be a caricature and 
 mockery of the other ? And now why is this ? 
 Why have you been unable to walk in that path 
 which you marked out for yourself ? Why in spite 
 of your utmost exertions to go in it, have your feet 
 been turned aside ? How happens it that you have 
 been often diverted when you were unwittingly 
 just entering some labyrinth of trouble, or about to 
 step blindly off some precipice of guilt and ruin ? 
 How is it that you have been so often protected 
 from yourself, and thwarted for your good ? Ah ! 
 it is because you have had an unseen guide. And 
 although you perhaps felt not his gentle grasp 
 which was laid upon you, and acknowledged not 
 his goodness, he has not left you to walk alone a 
 single step, or to chose your own path when He 
 saw it would not be for your advantage. He has 
 brought you in your blindness by a way that you 
 knew not. And just as really as he led his ancient 
 Israel, day by day, by a pillar of fire and of cloud, 
 just so really is he now leading by his own presence, 
 
WILLIAM E. SCIIEXCK. 235 
 
 every one of liis own dear children towards the 
 heavenly Canaan. And although he may lead 
 them through the depths of the sea, or the rugged 
 desert, by blessings and by chastisements, He will 
 by his providence be with them still, until they 
 reach the journey's end, for his promise is " I will 
 never leave thee nor forsake thee." 
 
 II. But we are far from having yet reached the 
 full meaning of this text, which we must regard, 
 from its close connection with the pre\dous pro- 
 phecy concerning Christ, as having reference yet 
 more to the leadings of God's Spirit than of his 
 providence. I proceed, then, to remark yet more 
 emphatically, that God leads his children by a way 
 they know not in the dealings of Ills grace. He, 
 by his grace, lays hold upon them at a time when 
 they do not expect him, and in a way in which 
 they look not for him ; and from that moment, 
 until they reach their heavenly destination, their 
 progress in the paths of righteousness is, at every 
 step, new, strange, and surprising to themselves. 
 Let us briefly see if it be not so. 
 
 When God by his Spirit comes to apply unto 
 the soul the redemption that is in Christ, he first 
 of all produces in the soul a persuasion and iJercep- 
 tion of its own guilt and wretcliedness ; and this 
 conviction God causes to lay hold upon the soul, 
 usually at a time as unlikely, as he does in ways 
 wonderfully various. Behold the woman of Sama- 
 ria ! She goes forth from her household as usual, 
 to fill her vessel with water at the well of Jacob ; 
 she finds a tired stranger sitting on the well, and 
 
236 THE PEINCETON PULPIT. 
 
 perceives liim to be of tlie hated nation of tlie 
 Jews ; slie enters into a brief conversation witli 
 Mm, and soon stands conscience-stricken and self- 
 condemned before the acknowledged Messiah. Be- 
 hold the assembly which stood before the Apostle 
 Peter on the day of Pentecost! There are men 
 out of every nation under heaven, who have come 
 up to Jerusalem, not to find salvation, but for pur- 
 poses of trade and ceremonial worship. There, too, 
 stand the men of Judea, who have just now taken 
 and with wicked hands have crucified and slain the 
 Lord of glory, their hearts and hands yet reeking 
 with the Redeemer's blood. They have just reached 
 the climax of human guilt. Yet, strange to tell, 
 there they stand, convinced of sin, and crying — 
 " Men and brethren, what shall we do V Behold 
 the thief upon the cross ! Regardless alike of the 
 claims of God and of humanity, his crimes have 
 brought him near to death. Even amidst the ago- 
 nies of crucifixion, the two thieves at first both 
 railed on Jesus ; but soon the one is heard rebuk- 
 ing his companion, saying, " Dost thou not fear 
 God ?" while he turns his supplicating cry to Jesus, 
 " Lord, remember me." Behold the blaspheming, 
 persecuting Saul ! With an exceeding madness in 
 his heart against the saints of God, breathing forth 
 threatenings and slaughter, — with the commission 
 of the high priest for their destruction on his per- 
 son, a light shines around him, a voice from heaven 
 smites upon his ear, and the bloody persecutor 
 humbly, tremblingly inquires, " Lord, what wilt 
 thou have me to do V Behold the jailer at Phi- 
 
AVI L LI AM E. SCIIENCK. 23*7 
 
 lippi ! He retires to liis rest as unconcerned aljout 
 his soul as usual, but at midniglit lie is heard crying 
 in alarm, " What must I do to be saved ?" John 
 Newton became convinced of sin while in a slave- 
 ship, and engaged in a course of gross and shocking 
 licentiousness. A late and celebrated clergyman 
 of England was pierced by his first convictions of 
 sin by hearing from the minister who occupied the 
 pul23it the simple words, "Let us pray." Two 
 students in one of our colleges, while a revival 
 was in progress, some years ago, mutually agreed 
 to attend an inquiring meeting, that they might 
 amuse themselves by practising deception upon 
 the officiating clergyman. When the meeting was 
 called to prayer, they kneeled among the rest, and, 
 while upon their knees, they were both smitten by 
 the power of the Spirit. Thus, " fools who came 
 to scoff, remained to pray ;" and so unexpectedly 
 found salvation in the cross of Christ. 
 
 And it is ever so. God is characteristically a 
 God who is found of them that soucrht Him not. 
 Often does he meet the criminal in his dunsreon 
 cell, and reclaim him to himself. Often does he 
 meet the licentious man in the midst of his licen- 
 tiousn.ess : sometimes the dying sinner, as he did the 
 thief upon the cross, when all hope seems prepos- 
 terous. Not seldom does he brino: the sinner to 
 repentance when he has just reached a point, where 
 he is more than ever surrounded by manifold and 
 strong temptations : when he had perhaps long dis- 
 regarded affectionate parental prayers and admoni- 
 tions, the warnings of a preached Gospel, the striv- 
 
238 THE peusTcetojS^ pulpit. 
 
 ings of tlie Holy Spirit : wlieii lie liad begun to 
 indulge in new species of iniquity : wlien lie was 
 peculiarly exposed to evil influences or companions: 
 wlien in short his case seemed more than ever 
 hopeless. When Satan had shielded his bosom 
 most carefully with some choice and adamantine 
 breastplate from the armory of hell, then did the 
 king make sharp his arrows to pierce it through 
 and through, and reach the heart beyond. Thus, 
 generally, (may I not say always ?) does God mag- 
 nify the power of his grace. 
 
 As to the nature no less than the occasion of 
 these convictions^ God works in unexpected ways. 
 Men often think that conviction of sin is little more 
 than to know that one is a sinner. Hence they 
 often expect that when a suitable time, a conve- 
 nient season, shall have come, it will be sufficient 
 just to read and meditate upon this fact, that they 
 are sinners. And he, who once entertained this 
 thought, but has since become a child of God, has 
 probably been taken by surprise when the Sj)irit 
 opened the eyes of his understanding. He was 
 astonished to find how stony, hoAV unyielding, how 
 unfeeling a heart he carried in his bosom. He was 
 astonished to find, how averse he was from God, 
 and how depraved he is in all his nature. He is 
 amazed to see how things before regarded as inno- 
 cent, have become vile ; how the favorite sins which 
 he hugged to his bosom have become serpents and 
 scorpions which he cannot get rid of: how the car- 
 nal nature which he before delighted to gratify, 
 (so far at least as outward' appearances and the 
 
WILLIAM E. SCIIENCK. 239 
 
 good Opinion of those around liini would allow) is 
 now transformed into a putrid carcase — a body of 
 death — from which he longs and strives to be set 
 free. 
 
 The same remark also applies to the means which 
 God employs to arrest his children in their thought- 
 less way. They perhaps expected to go ui> the 
 slope of Calvary by some path of their own choos- 
 ing, but how has God disappointed them ? They 
 were intending perhaps when a convenient time 
 had come, to seek salvation leisurely and gently, as 
 a mere matter of self-interest. But, lo ! the Spirit 
 of God came down upon them like a rushing 
 mighty wind, in which the soul, like some tall forest 
 tree, was swayed and bowed before the blast as if 
 its destruction were at hand. While God was 
 effecting: the transformation of the old creature into 
 the new, all its powers seemed convulsed by the 
 greatness of the change. Or, more probably the 
 sinner then impenitent, was looking for some 
 mighty exertion of God's power ; waiting for, and 
 desirous of some powerful revival in the commu- 
 nity, or some indubitable, heart-breaking sense of 
 guilt laid upon himself He felt that until God 
 almost struck him to the earth by the thunderings 
 and lightnings of the law, he could not be in God's 
 path towards heaven. And how did God disap- 
 point him also. The power of the Sj)irit descend- 
 ed upon him like the gentle shower, or the evening 
 dew. Some striking providence ; some simple truth 
 repeated in his hearing for the thousandth time ; 
 some whispered admonition of a Christian friend ; 
 
240 THE PEIl^CETON PULPIT. 
 
 some long-known text of lioly scripture ; awakes 
 attention, decides for action, bows down tlie soul 
 gently, yet with true convictions, before God. God 
 has led the sinner to conviction by a way that he 
 knew not. 
 
 The same is eminently true of the aj>j)reJiension 
 and acceptance of Jesus Christ : the act of faith. 
 It is wonderful how defective, how distorted, how 
 every way wrong, are men's views of Jesus Christ 
 previous to the experience of faith. They may 
 have learned the whole orthodoxy of the subject. 
 Yet there are some things here which the natural 
 man cannot discern. There seems to be a veil — a 
 dark and terrible veil — drawn before the eyes of 
 men, which shuts out the sight of Christ as " the 
 way, the truth, and the life." This strange, this 
 universal blindness of men to Christ, and to his re- 
 lation to our salvation, meets us at every turn in 
 the endeavour to lead souls to Heaven, and their in- 
 ability to comprehend the grand and spirit-stirring 
 messacje of salvation when set before them in the 
 clearest terms, can only be explained by recurring 
 to the Apostolic declaration — " In whom the god 
 of this world hath blinded the eyes of them that 
 believe not, lest the light of the glorious gospel of 
 Christ, who is the image of God, should shine unto 
 them." When God saves a sinner, this dark and 
 terrible veil is torn fro-m his eyes by the power of 
 the Holy Ghost, and to the soul's recovered ^asion 
 is presented " Christ, the image of God," in all 
 his divine fullness, in all the completeness of his 
 offices, in all the freeness of his offers. He becomes 
 
AVILLIAM E. SCIIENCK. 241 
 
 its wisdom, its rigliteousness, its sanctification, its 
 redemption. The soul now bows down before him, 
 leans upon him, clings to liim, takes him as its all 
 in all. He who was just now " without form or 
 comeliness," has become " the one altogether love- 
 ly." And now as the soul looks back upon its by- 
 gone times of ignorance, it is filled with astonish- 
 ment and humiliation because it never thus saw 
 Christ before, — so free, so simple, so beautiful, so 
 perfect does his salvation now appear. The believ- 
 ing soul feels and is ready to confess that in reveal- 
 ing to it such a sight ; in giving to it such a trust, 
 God has been leading it in ways which it knew 
 not. 
 
 The divine methods for leading the believer to 
 growth in grace are not less unexpected. When 
 the new-born child of God looks forth upon the 
 path of holiness, into which his feet are, by grace, 
 just turned, it seems to him to lie, throughout its 
 whole extent, across green pastures and beside still 
 waters, and, with the most sanguine and pleasing 
 anticipations, he presses on. He sees not the diffi- 
 culties of the way, and is, therefore, almost ready 
 to chide others for their tardy pace, while he forms 
 high resolutions for himself He will never lag, 
 let others do what they may. But he has not gone 
 far before he finds that even here he cannot walk 
 in the way of his own choosing. Perhaps he has 
 begun with too much self-confidence, or too much 
 pride, and it is best he should be humbled. Hence, 
 he has not gone far before his feet are found in a 
 more rugged and more toilsome path. Temptations 
 
242 THE PEINCETON PULPIT. 
 
 are around Mm, and sometimes lie falls beneath 
 tlieir power. Unexpected hindrances arise on this 
 side and on that, until he finds, at length, that his 
 own strength is j)erfect weakness. Perhaps he is 
 in prosperity, and he is found yielding to self-ap- 
 plause, to self-indulgence, or to avarice. Perhaps 
 he is in adversity, and he yields to despondency, 
 to repinings, to distrust God. Beloved objects of 
 affection are spared, and he idolizes them. They are 
 torn away, and he murmurs at his Father's act. 
 Without are fio:htin2:s and within are fears. Yet he 
 trusts in God. He presses onward. He prays day 
 by day for growth in grace. Who that lives a life 
 of faith cannot appreciate the language of that 
 touching hymn? — 
 
 / hop''d that in some favour'd hour, 
 At once he'd grant me ray request, 
 
 And by his love's constraining pow'r 
 Subdue my sins and give me rest. 
 
 Instead of this, he made me feel 
 
 The hidden evils of my heart ; 
 And let the angry powers of hell 
 
 Assault my soul in every part. 
 
 Yea, more ; with his own hand he seem'd 
 
 Intent to aggravate my woe ; 
 Cross'd all the fair designs I schem'd, 
 
 Blasted my gourds, and laid me low. 
 
 "Lord, why is this?" I trembling cried, 
 " Wilt thou pursue thy worm to death P'' 
 
 " 'Tis in this way," the Lord replied, 
 " I answer pray'r for grace and faith." 
 
WILLIAM E. SCIIENCK. 243 
 
 Aiid is such the experience of the young convert 
 who started but yesterday upon the road heaven- 
 ward, full of ardent hopes and high resolves ? Yes. 
 God has put the gold in the furnace. He is tearing 
 loose the roots of the tree, that he may finally 
 transplant it to a better soil. He is guiding his 
 child by a more rugged road, because his eye sees 
 dangers in the path of uninterrupted progress and 
 enjoyment, even in spiritual things. And he will 
 continue, even to the end of life, thus to bring the 
 blind by a way they knew not. 
 
 Still further; even on the heliever''s deatli-led is 
 often and gloriously illustrated the teaching of our 
 text. See there a believer who has been all his 
 lifetime in bondage, through fear of death. Every 
 sign of its ap]3roach has filled him with alarm, 
 and the knowledo:e that he himself must sometime 
 pass through that dread change has filled his soul 
 with trembling. And now his time has come. The 
 silver cord will soon be loosed, and the golden bowl 
 be broken. Flesh and heart already begin to fail 
 him. But, lo ! to his surprise, his soul is calm. 
 The destroyer has lost all his terrors. The ever- 
 lasting arms are underneath him, and he joyfully 
 exclaims, "Though I walk through the valley of 
 the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for thou 
 art with me ; thy rod and thy staft', they comfort 
 me!" 
 
 There is another believer whose countenance was 
 always sad. It was not so much that he feared the 
 King of Terrors, but he doubted his interest in 
 Christ. He feared to appropriate unto himself the 
 
244 THE PRINCETON PULPIT. 
 
 precious promises and consolations of the gospel 
 lest he should be a self-deceiver. He feared to utter 
 a clear testimony on the side of Christ, lest he 
 should be uttering heartless words. Now he, too, 
 must enter that dark valley. And how can he, who 
 always feared while in life and health, be otherwise 
 than in despair in this his day of awful trial ? But 
 look ! how serene and cheerful is his aspect ! The 
 dark clouds are now all cleared away. The Sun of 
 Righteousness is pouring its eifulgence full upon 
 him. And, as he disappears from mortal sight, his 
 last shout, clear and joyful, rings in our ears: "I 
 know that my Redeemer liveth ! O, death ! where 
 is thy sting? O, grave! where is thy victory?" 
 God leads his people, in the hour of death, by a 
 way that they knew not. 
 
 I will only add, that as the path by which God 
 leads his people is in its beginning, and in all its 
 progress, so is it in its termination — one which they 
 know not. Our heavenly destiny is veiled from 
 mortal sight. "It doth not yet appear what we 
 shall be." The believer's has all along been a sur- 
 prising course ; but here, my brethren, will be the 
 great surprise of all, when he bursts away from his 
 habiliments of flesh, and the remaining bonds of 
 sin, and finds himself in the abodes of glory. AVhat 
 new, what strange, what ecstatic sensations will 
 then rush in upon him ! What yet untasted sources 
 of enjoyment will then 1je open to him ! AYhat vast 
 discoveries of wisdom, and of power, and of grace, 
 as yet unguessed at, will he make ! What seraphic 
 raptures, what holy companionships, what a blessed 
 
"WILLIAM E . S C H E N C K . 245 
 
 eternity will be his ! Refine tlie joys of earth as 
 you may — exert your imaginations to the utmost — 
 you have not yet conceived adequately of the joys 
 and glories of that heavenly home towards which 
 God by his grace is daily leading each and every 
 one of his dear children. And when the first tu- 
 mult of that great surprise shall have subsided, it 
 will be one occupation of that eternity of bliss, to 
 look back aloug the way by which the Lord your 
 God has led you, and to trace his goodness, his 
 wisdom, and his power in its every step. And then 
 and there, as you review his dealings with you, in 
 the pure light of heaven, you will see cause to praise 
 him for ever and for ever more, that he gave you 
 not the choice of your own path, but led you, in 
 your blindness, by a path which else you had never 
 known. 
 
 Accept, then, I beseech you, Christian brethren, 
 the joy and strength these words are suited and 
 intended to afford you. Believe that your Heavenly 
 Father is continually at your side, and choosing all 
 your paths. Commit your way into his keeping. 
 Trust to his wisdom in all you perj^lexities and 
 straits. Lean on his powerful arm in all your weak- 
 ness ; rely upon his firm promise that he never will 
 forsake you. Be submissive and reconciled to his 
 will in all things. Cast your eyes forward from his 
 present dealings to their glorious issues; and be 
 ever careful to testify your gratitude by your obe- 
 dience and by your praise. 
 
CHRIST, THE MANIFESTATION OF GOD. 
 
 BY 
 
 THE REV. W. HENRY GREEN, 
 
 PKOFESSOn OF BIBLICAL AMD OKIENTAL LITEEATUBE. 
 
 God was manifest in the flesh. — 1 Tni. iii. 16. 
 
 There was a deep truth conveyed by tliat inscrip- 
 tion read by Paul, upon an Athenian altar, " To the 
 unknown God." God is the great unknown ; not 
 only because there are depths in his nature which 
 we cannot fathom, because his is an immensity 
 which the utmost reaches of intellect fail to grasp ; 
 a duration which man knows not how to measure ; 
 an omni^iotence which baffles all attempt at concep- 
 tion ; and because such is the infinitude of every 
 one of the divine perfections, that after exhausting 
 all our strength in the intense pursuit, and rising 
 to the dizziest heights, and pressing to the remotest 
 vers^e of thouo-ht, we come back from the contem- 
 plation of the Godhead, astounded by the vastness, 
 a trifling j)art of which only we have been able to 
 see, and able but to articulate the humiliating ques- 
 tion. Who l)y searching can find out God ? In 
 saying that God is unknown, we mean now not to 
 speak of him as incomprehensible, as one whose 
 nature never can be perfectly understood by fii ite 
 capacities, even when he has been revealed to 
 
W. HENRY GEEEN. 247 
 
 them with all possible clearness ; but we mean to 
 speak of him as undiscoverable in any measure 
 however imperfect, or to any extent however limit- 
 ed, unless as he reveals himself. It is not the im- 
 possibility of man fully comprehending the glori- 
 ous nature of God, exploring to its utmost bound- 
 aries a field which is so absolutely limitless, and 
 taking in with his finite capacities the full sweep of 
 a subject which is infinite ; but the imj^ossibility to 
 which we now have reference, is that of attaining 
 to any knowledge even the least and most inade- 
 quate of the Divine Being, except as he furnishes 
 it to us. We have no faculty by which to obtain 
 an immediate perception of the Great Supreme. 
 He is not far from every one of us. He fills all 
 that is around, above, beneath us ; and yet the eye 
 cannot see God, with our hands we cannot feel him, 
 the ear catches no sound of his footstejos. He is 
 covered with an impenetrable veil ; and though he 
 is ever with us, ever beholding us, though it is He 
 that supports every faculty of our natures, holds 
 every fibre of our frames, guides every motion of our 
 bodies, directs every pulsation of our hearts, super- 
 intends every exercise of our minds, yet we cannot 
 behold him any more than if all the space which he 
 fills were void unconscious emptiness. And though 
 we had the faculties of angels, or with a vision su- 
 pernaturally assisted, like that of Elisha's servant, 
 we were able to see the celestial visitants that 
 throng our world, or to see the human soul as it 
 forsakes its tenement of clay for its upward or its 
 dowmward flight, still though able to discern created 
 
248 THE PEINCETOJSr PULPIT. 
 
 spirits, we would not be able to penetrate the 
 thick darkness in wkicli He dwells enshrouded. It 
 is not within the reach of any creature-faculty to 
 uncover the awful mystery of His nature, nor to 
 look direct upon the essence of the Godhead. The 
 King eternal, immortal, invisible, is by all unseen ; 
 and in his existence, his perfections, his purposes, 
 he is to all beings a profound secret, except as he 
 voluntarily discloses himself to them. 
 
 With what angels may know of God, or with 
 what devils may know of God, we- are not now 
 particularly concerned. We shall not undertake to 
 inquire how far his glory and his grace are made 
 known to the one, or what are the methods by which 
 they are conveyed ; nor to what extent the others 
 learn to know him, whose just vengeance has lighted 
 the fires of their torment. The text speaks of 
 a manifestation of God to man. Man was not 
 created to eat, and drink, and die ; to pass his 
 earthly existence absorbed in carnal pursuits, and 
 earthly cares, and transitory pleasures. He was 
 made to have communion with God, to serve him, 
 to contribute to his glory. But a God unknown 
 and unrevealed cannot be worshipped nor obeyed. 
 He may awaken a sort of mysterious dread, such 
 as silence and night inspire ; but he can neither be 
 praised, adored, nor loved. Jehovah has therefore 
 made himself known to men. Our text tells us 
 ' God W€is manifest in the flesh.'' 
 
 I do not feel it necessary to prove to you now 
 that this actually took place at the incarnation of 
 Jesus Christ. It is as plain as it can be upon the 
 
AV . II E N II Y G E E E N . 249 
 
 face of the pa^^sage, that this is the event to which 
 the sacred writer refers. I shall not go into any 
 labored criticism to prove to you that this verse 
 stands imcorrupted as it came from the pen of 
 Paul. I shall not detail to you the various ways by 
 which men have sought to evade its plain testi- 
 mony to the Deity of Jesus. I shall not cull argu- 
 ments from the rest of Scripture, by which the 
 doctrine of this passage may be corroborated. I 
 may presume that so elementary a truth of our re- 
 ligion as the union of Deity and manhood in the 
 person of Jesus, is understood and embraced. Or 
 if there be among my hearers any who have 
 doubts upon so fundamental a point"^ I shall just 
 leave my text to stand out before them in its own 
 simple majesty, and with all the positiveness of its 
 declaration, 'God was manifest in the flesh.' I 
 shall not mar the effect of this utterance of the 
 oracles of truth, by presuming that it needs to be 
 substantiated, which God has delivered, or that it 
 can gather confirmation from argument which He 
 has declared. I bring no other witness. I present 
 no farther demonstration. I give you this one 
 statement to which God's spirit has set his seal: 
 and I do not ask, I demand your belief. 
 
 I assume then, as undisputed, what my text de- 
 clares ; or if any dispute it they must contend with 
 their Maker, not with me. That which we design 
 at present is to occupy you with a few thoui^hts di- 
 rected to the iHustration of the fulness of meaning 
 contained in the inspired expression before us. Our 
 aim shall be simply to educe the idea, which is pre- 
 17 
 
250 THE PKINCETON PULPIT. 
 
 sented to tlie mind when it is said, God was man- 
 ifest in tlie flesli ; we wisli, in otlier words, to con- 
 sider the incarnation as a manifestation of God. 
 And if we confine ourselves to tliis single trutL, 
 since it is alone presented in our text, we shall not, 
 we trust, be considered as either denying or under- 
 rating the other ends of the incarnation, because it 
 does not fall within the range which we propose to 
 ourselves to speak of them. It is, we gratefully 
 acknowledge, by the incarnation of the Son of God 
 alone, that we are provided with a competent me- 
 diator between God and man. It was thus alone 
 that an adeq[uate atonement could be made for hu- 
 man sin. It is by the incarnation that we have set 
 before us our only perfect example ; by it that we 
 are permitted to indulge that confidence in our di- 
 vine Redeemer, as one who can sympathize with us 
 in trials which he has himself experienced. But 
 while we would not forget, and mean not to under- 
 value these and other inestimable benefits which 
 we owe to the incarnation of the Son of God, we 
 wish now to abstract your minds from every other 
 advantage it confers, and fasten your attention upon 
 the single one presented in the text, which is itself 
 enough to make us adore this sacred mystery and 
 devoutly prize it as of inestimable worth. If the 
 incarnation were nothing more to us than a man- 
 ifestation of God ; if it gave us no mediator, 
 l^rought us no atonement, set before us no exam- 
 ple, provided us no compassionate High Priest, but 
 merely brought God down to us, and enabled us to 
 look, still TV'ith adoring awe, and yet with admiring 
 
AV . H E N 11 Y O R i: E I^ . 251 
 
 confidence u])on liim, and to gain fresli and enlarged 
 views of his nature and glory, still this mystery 
 of godlmess would have deserved our wonder, anil 
 we should liave jwinted you to it as to a thing 
 second in importance to nothing that we can 
 imagine. And though it is not for us to limit the 
 wisdom and grace of God, nor to say what he might 
 have done, or what he might not have done under 
 other circumstances, yet it does apjDear as though 
 we would be almost warranted in saying, not only 
 that the incarnation shines with a lustre far supe- 
 rior to every other communication God has made 
 of himself to our race, but that it is superior 
 to any other which could have been devised for 
 making himself known. It does appear as though 
 God, whose it is to bring good out of evil, and to 
 make the wrath of man to praise him, had made 
 the guilty trespass of man which needed the incar- 
 nation in order to its atonement, the occasion of 
 bringing himself nearer to his creatures, and laying 
 himself more open to their astonished and admir- 
 ing gaze, than he could have done, had not that 
 which he abhors presented the occasion. It is ours, 
 then, at this time to contemplate this master-stroke 
 of divine wisdom, and to see how completely the 
 enemy was made to overreach himself; and how 
 that which was done out of no desire to promote 
 the di\ane glory, and from no regard for human 
 welfare, but out of hostility both to God and man, 
 was nevertheless made in this case, as in so many 
 others,^ to turn in favour of both, so that to God 
 there is gathered a more ample harvest of glory. 
 
252 THE PEINCETON PULPIT. 
 
 and to man is afforded the opportunity, as we cannot 
 but tliink, of a fuller acquaintance with his Maker, 
 and a more intimate communion w^ith him, than 
 though sin had not entered, and the putting of it 
 away required that God should become manifest in 
 the flesh. 
 
 We mean not to imply, of course, that God was 
 wholly unknown in the world before the incarna- 
 tion, and that no other way existed or was possible 
 than this, of arriving at a knowledge of his exist- 
 ence and attributes. We do not say that the incar- 
 nation stands alone as the sole method by which 
 God can reveal himself to his creatures; it does 
 stand alone as the only case in which God was mani- 
 fested, personally exhibited to men ; and its glory 
 consists in the fact, that while there were many 
 successive modes of divine communication, rising 
 one above the other in fulness and clearness, this 
 towers loftily above them all, surpassing stage after 
 stage of revelation, to each of which, had we known 
 only that, we should have ascribed perfection. 
 
 There is a light in nature which reveals God, and 
 there are lessons respecting him spread out before 
 the eyes of all men. The invisible things of God 
 are clearly seen from the creation of the world ; 
 his eternal power and Godhead are distinctly writ- 
 ten there ; and, as if to make the testimony of 
 nature full, and to the last degree complete, man 
 himself was made in the image, after the likeness 
 of God ; so that to know his Creator, all that he 
 had to do was to turn inward and look upon him- 
 self, and trace the lineaments of his Maker there. 
 
AV. IT E N n Y GREEX. 253 
 
 We may not pause here ; but if we could stop and 
 gaze about us, and gaze inward, and see how the 
 knowledge of God streams in upon us from ten 
 thousand sources, and then think how much more 
 the pure eye of unfallen man could have read where 
 we see nothing, and how the image of God im- 
 pressed upon the heart, now so blurred and defaced, 
 was then distinctly traceable in every feature, we 
 would almost be prepared to say, if we knew of no 
 further communications God had made. Surely this 
 is the most ample, the most certain, the most direct 
 instruction concerning an invisible, incomprehensi- 
 ble Creator that can possibly be imagined. To 
 write his name and his attributes on everything 
 about us, on all that lives and moves ; yea, on every 
 leaf and flower, and fleecy cloud, and babbling 
 brook, and ray of light and drop of dew; and 
 then to grave his very image on the soul of man 
 itself! how can God be forgotten or unknown in 
 such a world, by such a soul ? 
 
 But revelation has surpassed nature. We speak 
 not now of its meeting those new necessities which 
 the apostasy has introduced, and for which nature 
 has not the semblance of a remedy ; but of this one 
 particular, which is now before us — the making- 
 known of God. We cannot here delay to tell of 
 the teachings of the Scriptures, and to unfold what 
 they with all plainness of speech declare, respect- 
 ing the existence, the perfections, and the purposes 
 of Jehovah, and to show you what a flood of light 
 direct from heaven itself is here, above all the light 
 that nature had, and all that nature taught. We 
 
254 THE peincetoj^t pulpit. 
 
 might do this in a manner wliicli would make you 
 feel that here was an immense advance, not only 
 upon what man in the blindness and the degrada- 
 tion of his present state knows without a revela- 
 tion, but upon all that in the uprightness of his 
 original condition he could have known without it. 
 The race was kept in pupilage for centuries ; teacher 
 after teacher was sent, inspired from above, to train 
 the world in divine knowledge ; lesson after lesson 
 was given fresh from heaven ; and, as if words 
 alone could not sufficiently convey ideas of celestial 
 objects, a complete system of symbolic representa- 
 tion was introduced, after the shadow and exam- 
 ple of heavenly things; holy places were made, by 
 a celestial pattern, as figures of the true ; and thus 
 invisible things were embodied and made visible 
 and tangible. Prophet and priest fulfilled each 
 their course to teach the people knowledge ; psalm- 
 ists added their heaven-born strains ; the Spirit of 
 God, himself the author of these various lessons, 
 tauglit them to the heart illumined by his grace. 
 And here, again, if we knew not, from the actual 
 fact, what was yet in reserve, we might be ready to 
 ask what farther could be added to these teachings, 
 so abundant, so comprehensive and so explicit of 
 the Word of God, to make Jehovah better known ? 
 And yet, though the language of inspired com- 
 munication may leave nothing untold which words 
 can convey, and nothing farther to be desired, 
 nothing even possible, in the way of description of 
 the nature and perfections of the Most High ; still 
 it would introduce us to a nearer acquaintance with 
 
W . II E X R Y G II E E N . 'J .)) 
 
 this dread Being if, instead of merely distantly 
 hearing aLout him, we should be made witnesses 
 of his acts, and be permitted to gaze direct upon 
 positive exhibitions of those attributes of power, 
 and justice, and grace, of which we had been told. 
 Here is another advance in the presentation of the 
 knowledge of God. Neither can we dilate upon 
 this, but only refer you in the general to those 
 immediate workmgs of his miraculous power, by 
 which he has, again and again, accomplished his 
 designs of mercy and of justice. Thus, the fearful 
 overthrow of Sodom, the plagues sent on hardened 
 Pharaoh, the judgments on mumuring Israel, speak 
 more impressively than any language, the holiness, 
 the justice, and the dreadful vengeance of our God. 
 So the various interpositions of God on behalf of 
 his people, for their deliverance from danger and for 
 their rescue from their foes, the magnificence of his 
 descent on Sinai, the food he vouchsafed them in 
 the desert, the guidance of the pillar of cloud and 
 of fire, give a more vivid conception of God, and 
 let us more into the beatings of his gracious heart, 
 and show us more of the glory of his nature than 
 any words could express. 
 
 And now one might, with strong appearance of 
 reason, conclude that the various modes of reveal- 
 ing God must be complete, and that nothing more 
 can be imagined to be added to those already re- 
 cited. The existence and the perfections of God are 
 written upon every fragment of creation ; his very 
 image is impressed upon the soul of man ; his na- 
 ture and attributes are fully and explicitly taught 
 
256 Tll E P E I K C E T N PULPIT. 
 
 in Ms Word ; they are clearly displayed in tlie acts 
 of power, and mercy, and judgment, done by lilm 
 amongst men. Possessed of tliese, we would liave 
 said tliat no new plan could be devised to add any- 
 thing to the completeness of those already in exist- 
 ence ; and that, if any accession were to be made 
 to the knowledge we possess respecting God, it 
 must come, not in some new form of communica- 
 tion, but by enlarging the channel of the old ; it 
 must be by God's making an increased display of 
 himself in his works of creation and providence, 
 or enabling us to see with greater distinctness what 
 is already written there ; or by rendering his image 
 on man's heart more distinct and perfect; or by 
 adding: some new revelation reo:ardino; himself to 
 
 O CD CI 
 
 his inspired word ; or by some yet unheard-of, im- 
 mediate, and supernatural exhibition of his attri- 
 butes. And still the wisdom of God has shown us 
 that it was not yet exhausted, that there was some- 
 thing yet possible, superior to them all. We would 
 have pronounced it incredible, had it not actually 
 occurred. It is for the invisible God to make him- 
 self visible, and assume a habitation among men, 
 to be born, and live, and die. This, w^hich was in 
 api^earance forbidden by his spirituality, his omni- 
 presence, and his eternity, was nevertheless accom- 
 plished, by God being manifested in the flesh ; and 
 now, in the language of one of the appointed wit- 
 nesses of this stupendous event, we have heard, we 
 have seen with our eyes, we have looked upon him, 
 and our hands have handled that eternal life which 
 was with the Father, and was manifested unto us. 
 
^V . IIENEY GREEN. 257 
 
 The unseen, eternal, omnipotent God dressed liim- 
 self in a limnan form, and gave himself a local, 
 temporal, tangible existence, so as to bring him- 
 self within reach of our corporeal senses ; he came 
 down to dwell among us, not by a mere symbol 
 of his presence, but really, personally, visibly. 
 And thus he disclosed himself to man, not at 
 second hand, through the ministry of his servants, 
 nor by occasional and momentary displays of his 
 own dread power and magnificence, but by a life 
 of intimate, uninterrupted converse in their midst. 
 AVe now no longer merely read about him, or hear 
 of him, or reason respecting him, or look upon his 
 likeness which we bear within us (alas ! almost 
 obliterated), or gaze upon the dread workings of 
 one himself concealed from sight; but we have 
 been with him and seen him, listened to his words, 
 observed his acts, witnessed his Spirit, marked the 
 tenor of his life, been admitted to a close, endear- 
 ing familiarity with him. We have not, indeed, 
 been taken up to heaven to see God there ; but, 
 what is better far for us, he has come down to earth 
 and manifested himself here. And he is disclosed 
 to us, not attended by the voice louder than the 
 peal of seven thunders, the dread magnificence, 
 the blinding glory, the terrific displays of power 
 which would have made our flesh to quake upon 
 us, and deprived us of all conscious exercise of rea- 
 son, if not of hfe. But the Di\anity is so softened 
 down to our weak senses, that we can bear to see 
 the glory of God in the face of Jesus Christ. In 
 seeing him we see the Father. The God whom no 
 
258 THE PRiisrcETOisr pulpit. 
 
 man hatli seen at any time, tlie only begotten Son 
 hath declared. In the person of Jesus, who was 
 himself the true God and eternal life, who is the 
 image of the invisible God, the brightness of his , 
 glory and the express image of his person, the Word 
 of God, he has been exhibited to view. What the 
 written word of God labours to spread out for us 
 on the page, that Jesus was in his whole person — the 
 revelation of God. In seeing Christ, we gaze on 
 him, whom else no man can see and live. He is no 
 longer the unseen, the unknown, — he is the mani- 
 fested Deity. 
 
 It is interesting, after contemplating the great 
 truths and important facts of the Bible, in the cer- 
 tainty of their presentation and th« perfection of 
 their outline, and it gives us a fresh conviction how 
 admirably they are adajDted to the wants of man, 
 to turn to those without a revelation and see how 
 the deep necessities of human nature made them- 
 selves felt even there, and created earnest longings 
 and dim anticij)ations of the truth even among 
 those who were ignorant of it in its reality ; to find 
 that as we stray among the distorted fancies of 
 heathendom, and their gross absurdities, and their 
 frantic abominations, we may pick up, here and 
 there, battered unsightly fragments of the polished 
 and symmetrical statue of ti-uth, which, it is true, 
 we could never gather into one, nor even from these 
 confused and scattered fragments image to our- 
 selves the figure that they formed, but which, with 
 a model of the statue before us, we can neverthe- 
 less recognize and assign each to its place. And 
 
AV. HENRY GF.E EX. '259 
 
 now, tlie liumau form tliey mostly gave tlieir gods, 
 their incarnations and apotlieoses, tlie fabled inter- 
 course of gods and men, gods dwelling on tlie earth, 
 and great deliverers born of a pure virgin,— what 
 are these, found up and down the Pagan world, but 
 blind nature unconsciously yearning after the truth, 
 which we behold in Jesus, of " God manifest in the 
 
 flesh?" 
 
 Some have busied themselves in the search for 
 heathen parallels to this and other Christian truths, 
 with the view of bringing them into discredit, by 
 thus impliedly rating them as of equal authority 
 with acknowledged falsehoods. And they have 
 paraded the results of their search with an air of 
 triumph, as though they had convinced themselves 
 that the mcarnation of Jesus was no more entitled 
 to belief than the incarnations of Brahma, or the 
 trinity in Jehovah were no more to be regarded 
 than that of the Hindoo godhead, and as though 
 the infinite superiority of Christian truth above 
 Pagan error did not prevent both from stand- 
 ing on a precise level. But no amount of spu- 
 rious coin that can be shown me, shall make 
 me cast away the genuine of which it is the at- 
 tempted though worthless representation. I find 
 in Christianity the truth pure and unadulterated— 
 the genuine coin bearing the stamp of Heaven. 
 And I shall not relinquish it because there may be 
 discovered analogies in the superstitions of the 
 Pagan. I have no fear of such discoveries. I ra- 
 ther welcome them, and lay hold of every one that 
 is brought me, as to my mind affording additional 
 
260 THE PRINCETOTT PULPIT. 
 
 confirmation of tlie Bible faitli ; for I find in sucli 
 analogies fresli evidence that tlie Scrij^ture trutli is 
 tlie trutli whicli man requires, seeing that by neces- 
 sity of nature, as it were, lie still blindly gropes 
 after it, even wlien it is not given him from above. 
 And now we ought, for the proper presentation 
 of our subject, to go into some detail regarding the 
 various perfections of the Divine Nature, and show 
 how, in respect to them all, our knowledge receives 
 new confirmation and additional clearness by this 
 manifestation of God in the flesh ; and how, in the 
 case of many, it receives large accessions above all 
 that was previously known, or could, apart from 
 the incaiTiation, be known regarding them. And 
 here be it observed, that we are not now speaking 
 of Jesus as a teacher. We are not comparing the 
 instructions which He the seal of all the prophets de- 
 livered, with those which had previously been com- 
 municated by others under the guidance of His 
 Spirit. Though if this were our theme, we would 
 claim for Him emj)hatically the name and the cha- 
 racter of the Great Teacher, and we fixncy that we 
 would not find it difiicult to show, that the new 
 truths which He delivered, and the new force and 
 clearness which old truths received from His lips, 
 place the dispensation which He introduced in com- 
 parison with that which preceded it, as the bright- 
 ness of noonday to the early dawn. It is not, 
 however, the superiority of the instructions which 
 He, who spake as man never spake, communicated, 
 that our subject invites us to consider, but simply 
 the manifestation of God in His person. 
 
AV. IIENKY GREEN. 261 
 
 Tlie very existence of God receives new confir- 
 matiou here. Indeed, some Lave referred to the 
 miracles of Jesus as affording to tlieir minds tlie 
 only argument which was absolutely irrefragable, 
 that there is an intelligent being, the author and 
 the Lord of Nature. The unity of God is also 
 freshly demonstrated both against the thousand dei- 
 ties of an idolatrous Paganism, and the two inde- 
 pendent principles of good and evil of the Persian 
 superstition, by the unlimited authority which 
 Jesus freely exercised, commanding obedience in 
 the kingdom of darkness as well as that of light. 
 But we cannot delay on these and similar points. 
 
 We pass to the holiness of God. This was set 
 in a light by the incarnation in which it never ap- 
 peared before, and in which (without designing to 
 limit the wisdom or power of God) we may say 
 that, as far as we can judge, it could not have ap- 
 peared without it. Our proof of this is drawn not 
 from the fact, melancholy as it is," that the idea of 
 holiness is entirely lost among the heathen, to whom 
 God has not made Himself known. They have 
 not only parted with its reality within themselves 
 and in their own practice, but the very notion of it 
 has vanished from among them. And amono- all 
 the attributes which the Pagan ascribes to his dei- 
 ties,— some of them of the most horrible and shock- 
 ing character, — that of holiness is never once to be 
 met with. And when Christianity comes to be in- 
 troduced among them, our missionaries have to 
 grapple with this giant difficulty in the outset, of 
 waking in the breasts of a people an idea, which 
 
262 THE PKINCETOlSr PULPIT. 
 
 has died out ages since, of wliicli none among tliem 
 have any sort of conception, and for which not even 
 a tolerable equivalent can be found in their lan- 
 guage. 
 
 But though the heathen world had lost this most 
 necessary idea of God's holiness, it was preserved 
 among the people who possessed a revelation ; yet 
 even among them God's holiness was not known, 
 and it was impossible that any verbal revelation 
 should teach it as it became known through the 
 medium of the incarnation. And here we cannot 
 pretend to detail the various ways in which the in- 
 carnation illustrated God's holiness. It will doubt- 
 less spontaneously occur to you all that the very 
 errand of Jesus was to magnify God's holy law, and 
 to destroy sin as the object of His supreme abhor- 
 rence ; and that the necessity here exhibited of a 
 perfect atonement for sin, before even God himself 
 can consistently with His nature deliver the sinner 
 from death, sheds a lustre on theholiness of God 
 which nothing that we can conceive of but this could 
 ever have put there. Without, however, stopping 
 to unfold these and other considerations to which 
 your minds will readily turn, and which amply 
 establish the point before us, there is another 
 aspect less frequently presented, and which per- 
 haps may not immediately suggest itself to all 
 my hearers, in which the incarnation illustrates, as 
 nothing else could, God's holiness. 
 
 We are told of the spotless holiness of God. We 
 see it in all His acts, and all His dealings with His 
 people. We witness ourselves, or have confirmed 
 
W . 11 E N E Y G K E E N . 263 
 
 unto US by tliose wlio did, the immediate exertions 
 of His power, wliicli liad for tlieir object tlie dis- 
 play of His holiness. And yet this is the holiness 
 of God in heaven — a God who has all things at His 
 command, to whom no possible temptation can con- 
 sequently be presented, and who, apart from the 
 holiness of His nature, cannot, from His very inde- 
 pendence and all-sufficiency, have even the slightest 
 shadow of a motive to do what is wrong. What 
 is there to exhibit to us that this unsullied holiness 
 of God arises from the perfect purity of His being, 
 and is not in part the mere effect of His infinite 
 exaltation ? If holiness is always triumphant, what 
 is there which so evidently brings out that this is 
 due to His ineffably righteous nature, and which so 
 positively excludes the thought that this may in 
 2)art be because a triumph is easily gained by one 
 who is beyond the reach of a foe, and where no 
 danger could possibly be apprehended ? And 
 what is there which positively excludes the thought 
 that He is requiring something hard of man, when 
 He demands of him never to yield to a temptation, 
 nor to be overcome by an assault, when they come 
 so thickly and so powerfully upon him ? But who 
 is not conscious that a new and decided impression 
 is made upon his mind, when he sees the Most High 
 resign for a season the infinite exaltation he pos- 
 sesses, take a frail and feeble nature with all its 
 sinless infirmities, and expose Himself to tempta- 
 tion, and then observes how with all the weaknesses 
 of His assumed nature, in all the trials to which 
 He was subjected, and though He was tempted in 
 
264 THE PRINCETON PULPIT. 
 
 all points like as we are, He was nevertlieless en- 
 tirely free from the least taint of sin, and that Christ 
 fainting in the desert equally with Christ ruling on 
 the throne of the heavens, is perfect in holiness ? 
 This reveals to us a side of this attribute, and un- 
 der an impressive aspect, which but for the incar- 
 nation never could have been seen. 
 
 And thus it is with all the attributes of God. 
 They all gather fresh lustre from the mystery of 
 the incarnation ; and when they are viewed in the 
 face of Jesus Christ, they appear with an impress- 
 iveness which they never before assumed. Where 
 was the long-suffering of God ever so exhibited as 
 we see it in Jesus ? The sparing mercy of God to 
 rebellious men is indeed exhibited in His provi- 
 dence perpetually toward each individual sinner 
 and toward the whole race. It is a proof of most 
 amazing long-suffering, that He has not lost all pa- 
 tience with our guilty race, and that the iniquities, 
 and the crimes, and the abominations which are 
 perpetrated in the world, have not provoked Him 
 to sweep the whole out of existence, and to bear 
 with such provocations no longer. But it gives us 
 a more vivid sense of this long-suffering, when we 
 see God coming in human form, and dwelling in 
 the very midst of these iniquities and provocations, 
 becoming himself the object of unmeasured hos- 
 tility, bearing every form of reproach and indig- 
 nity, and with a power at His command which 
 would have consumed offenders in a moment, allow- 
 ing Himself to be led unresistingly as a lamb to the 
 slaughter, and making use of His divine prerogative 
 
W . II E N R Y G E E E X . 265 
 
 only to open paradise to tlie penitent thief, while 
 from His lips, instead of imprecations, we hear the 
 voice of intercession, " Father, forgive them, they 
 know not what they do." 
 
 If He had given proofs before of His regard for 
 the human race, what a nearness does this induce 
 beyond anything else that is conceivable, that He 
 should come and live among us and wear a human 
 nature, become bone of our bone and flesh of our 
 flesh, partake of our infirmities and weaknesses, 
 that He might deliver us from them, and take our 
 nature with Him to glory, and seat it on the throne 
 as a pledge that we should be glorified with Him 
 as His brethren, as the members of His body, as 
 a. part of Himself ! And how is the love of God 
 illustrated by the incarnation ! This, in fact, is the 
 great proof of divine love, beside which every 
 other, however vast in itself, appears diminutive. 
 God commendeth His love toward us, in that while 
 w^e were yet sinners, Christ died for us. 
 
 And so if we had time to speak of the truth of 
 God and His justice, and His wisdom, and the other 
 perfections of His nature, we should see how all of 
 them gain a new radiance from God manifest in the 
 flesh. This is our warrant for saying as we have 
 said, and now repeat, that the incarnation manifests 
 God to men as He was never exhibited to them be- 
 fore ; and that if it brought no other benefit with it 
 than this, that it brought God nearer to us, and made 
 Him better known, it would deserve still to be 
 reckoned an unspeakable gift, and would be worthy 
 18 
 
266 THE PEINCETON PULPIT. 
 
 of the highest praises that can throughout eternity- 
 be paid. 
 
 There is another side of our subject which we 
 had desired to present, but which the lateness of 
 the hour forbids us now to touch. We have shown 
 you how the character of God is exhibited to man 
 in the incarnation. We would like to have pointed 
 out to you how the feelings of man's natural heart 
 toward God were exhibited here likewise, in their 
 treatment of God manifest in the flesh ; how perfect 
 goodness and celestial excellence raised against Him 
 the malice which betrayed, condemned, and cruci- 
 fied Him ; and how it is the same enmity of the 
 natural heart still which leads so many to side with 
 His persecutors, and if they do not madly cry Away 
 with Him, nevertheless to show by their lives as 
 well as by their professions, that they will not 
 have this man to reign over them. 
 
RELIGIOUS RETIREMENT. 
 
 BY 
 
 THE REV. G. M. GIGER, 
 
 ADJUNCT PROFESSOR OF GREEK. 
 
 And in the morning, rising up a great while before day, He went out and 
 departed into a solitary place, and there prayed. — Mark i. 35. 
 
 The extreme simplicity and conciseness, wliich 
 cliaracterize the Scripture narratives, veil, from the 
 casual and unreflecting reader, their full beauty, rich- 
 ness and power. The mere outlines of scenes and 
 incidents are often given, which, when viewed in 
 the light of their attending circumstances, excite us 
 by their interest and melting pathos, or become in- 
 vested with grandeur and sublimity. 
 
 Our Saviour, we are told, had been laboriously 
 engaged the day previous in relieving the afflicted 
 and tormented ; for " at even when the sun did set, 
 they brought unto Him all that were diseased, and 
 them that were possessed with devils." Engaged, 
 probably, in this benevolent work till late at night, 
 He then retired to His couch; but not to rest. 
 His soul was agonized by the sufferings of His 
 creatures ; the scenes of anguish and the sights of 
 woe, which had so recently passed before Him, 
 filled Him with sorrow. He, whose heart was so 
 keenly sensitive to others' grief, and so deeply 
 touched with the feeling of our infirmities, was 
 so burdened with pity and compassion, that 
 
268 THE PRINCETON PULPIT. 
 
 " rising up a great while before day, He went out and 
 departed into a solitary place, and there prayed." 
 
 This simple incident in the life of onr Saviour 
 should inspire us with love and gratitude to Him ; 
 and His example, in thus flying from the society of 
 man, to seek in retirement and solitude that unin- 
 terrupted converse with His Father, that relief, 
 that comfort, and that strength, which the world 
 cannot give, should be sufficient to teach the Chris- 
 tian his duty in this respect, and to show him where 
 he can enjoy the privilege of communion with his 
 God. But when we find that our Lord frequently 
 and liabitually sought retirement^ that He often with- 
 drew from the multitudes who pressed so eagerly 
 after Him, and, threading the mountain defiles, 
 sought in its deep ravines and hidden recesses' soli- 
 tudes for secret prayer; when we see Him fre- 
 quently retiring to that lovely garden " over the 
 brook Kedron," and amidst its solemn shades and 
 leafy grottoes, praying and meditating ; when we 
 find Him there alone, during the last night before 
 His crucifixion, engaged in agonizing prayer, and 
 earnestly imploring strength from His Father in 
 heaven, the fact becomes invested with tenfold im- 
 port and interest to all who wish to follow in the 
 footsteps of their Divine Exemplar. 
 
 God, in creating man^ had this important duty 
 and privilege in view. As with His other laws, so 
 with regard to this part of His will, He has im- 
 pressed its type upon nature. He created the day, 
 with its busy, noisy life, and the quiet night, when 
 stillness reigns and shuts the world from sight ; the 
 
G. M. GIGEE. 2G9 
 
 restless ocean, witli its ceaseless, loud-resouudiug 
 diapason, and tlie gentle river, " winding at its own 
 sweet will ;" tlie roaring tempest, witli its crashing 
 thunders, and the sunny calm ; the earth-shaking 
 volcano, and at its foot the quiet vale. He not 
 only created man a social being, with full capacities 
 of receiving enjoyment from, and gifted him with 
 faculties for imparting knowledge and pleasure to 
 others, but He also supplied him with loftier facul- 
 ties of soul, and conferred upon him the high pri- 
 vilege of communing with Him, thus affording him 
 the power to cultivate that sj^iritual part of his 
 being, which places him in the scale of creation 
 " but a little lower than the angels." Therefore he 
 was introduced into a terrestrial paradise of beauty, 
 and surrounded with everything calculated to lift 
 his thoughts to heaven. Out of its leafy luxun- 
 ance He formed for him attractive and secluded re- 
 treats — places where he might employ his time in 
 contemplation and devotion. And here, in these 
 lovely, sequestered spots, many a bright, angelic 
 being, no doubt, conversed with Adam concerning 
 the mysteries of the U2:)per world, and unravelled 
 the wonders of God's great universe; and here, 
 too, God himself condescended to visit him. "When 
 the sun had sunk beneath the rocky ramparts of 
 Paradise, their deepening shadows thickening the 
 sombre twilight, when the beasts had couched to 
 rest, and the carolling of the birds had ceased and 
 they had folded their wings for sleep, when the 
 winds had lulled to the softest zephyrs, and all na- 
 
270 THE PRINCETON PULPIT. 
 
 ture was huslied in repose, in the cool of tlie calm 
 evening, God walked in the garden. 
 
 In accordance with the obvious wish of Jehovah, 
 tlie cmcient saints^ whose biographies are given in 
 the Old Testament, frequently practised this duty. 
 How eminently was it characteristic of Daniel ! 
 Though his life was threatened in consequence, yet 
 did he retire thrice a day to his chamber to pray. 
 With what frequency did David seek retirement ! 
 How often do we find him communing with God 
 through the still watches of the night ! How often 
 and how eagerly did he fly from regal pomp and 
 the thronging, distracting cares of state, to enjoy 
 the pleasure and privilege of secret prayer and me- 
 ditation ! The sweet music of that magic harp, 
 now quickly vibrating with the joyous anthem of 
 praise and triumph, now trembling with the soft, 
 plaintive notes of sorrow and contrition, has been 
 floated down through ages, finds a responsive echo 
 in the heart of every Christian, and will roll its 
 undulations into the concert of everlasting song. 
 
 The primitive Christians^ also, practised this 
 duty to a great extent. Prevented by their re- 
 lentless persecutors from worshipping in public as- 
 semblies ; hunted like wild beasts ; driven from the 
 abodes of men to the shelter of mountains and 
 almost impenetrable forests ; in these rocky retreats, 
 in the subterranean caverns of the earth, they 
 adored their God in secret, secure from the intru- 
 sion of those who thirsted for their blood. Oh ! 
 how precious did this primal ege at length become ! 
 What sweet sanctuaries were these gloomy rocts 
 
G. M. GIGER. 271 
 
 and caves ! How often, from these deep rapines, 
 overhung with dark, beetling crags, did the songs 
 of praise and the voice of earnest, soul-wrestliug 
 prayer ascend as a cloud of rich, inextinguishable 
 incense to the skies ? Highly did they appreciate 
 and enjoy this constant communion with God, for 
 they learned to feel that it was not always solitude 
 to be alone. So powerful was its influence upon 
 those compelled by persecution to resort to it, that 
 men, in later times, mistaking the cause, attributing 
 to solitude and seclusion what was due to the mo- 
 tive which prompted, and the proper and sacred 
 employment of it, sought this retirement from dif- 
 ferent motives and for other purposes. Many, be- 
 coming disgusted with society, and disappointed in 
 their aspirations after wealth, power, and worldly 
 happiness, turned misanthropes, and leaving the 
 busy haunts of men, shut themselves up in caverns 
 and secluded places, there in suUenness to brood 
 over their disappointments and nurse their con- 
 tempt and hatred of society and of their fellow-crea- 
 tures. Others made it a pretext for extraordinary 
 piety and sanctity, and thus was originated the un- 
 scriptural, pernicious system of monasticism. 
 
 But here we have an instance of the beautiful 
 consistency which characterized the life of our Sa- 
 viour. The whole of the preceding day, even far 
 into the night. He had been actively engaged in re- 
 lieving suffering humanity, in cunng the diseased, 
 and in casting out devils. Although He retired to 
 the mountain to pray, it was after He had fed the 
 thousands who resorted to Him, and preached to 
 
272 THE PKINCETON PULPIT. 
 
 them tlie word of life. He combined tlie most la- 
 borious efforts to promulgate the blessed Gospel, 
 and relieve the diseased, with frequent seclusion. 
 
 To us, however, the days of persecution are over. 
 Every man can here worshij) God under his own 
 vine and fig-tree, without fear or molestation. The 
 recluse belongs to other times, and is Aaewed as the 
 being of a romantic, obsolete age ; and, thank God ! 
 that night of the world is passing away. But 
 have we not some reason to fear that the practice 
 of religious retirement, the frequent, habitual com- 
 munion with God, which distinguished primitive 
 Christianity, is passing away with them ? Is not 
 this duty, in our day, too much neglected ? We 
 fear that such is the case. The enterprises of the 
 Church do indeed demand the most energetic acti- 
 vity of Christians, but should not supersede the 
 duty of retired contemplation and devotion. Christ 
 felt as fully the need of activity as any modern 
 Christian. He had as great an appreciation of the 
 vastness of the field of labour, of the world lying 
 in wickedness, as the most active now. None will 
 deny that He laboured as much, as incessantly as 
 the most devoted Christian of the jDresent day, and 
 yet He often retired and spent hours, aye, whole 
 nights, in secret prayer and meditation. The fact 
 is, men are so prone to place reliance on their own 
 efforts, that they are constantly multiplying machi- 
 nery, and their time and attention are so much ab- 
 sorbed in its improvement in the vain exj^ectation 
 of creating power ; there is so much time con- 
 
G. M. GIGER. 273 
 
 sumed in parade and ostentatious efforts, that tliey 
 acquire very little relisli for private supplication to 
 God. The same Great Master, who commanded 
 His disciples to preach the Gospel to all nations, 
 also advised the Christian — "when thou prayest, 
 enter into thy closet, and when thou hast shut thy 
 door, pray to thy Father which is in secret, and 
 thy Father, which seeth in secret, shall reward 
 thee openly," and thy labours also. If Chris- 
 tians would resort more frequently to their 
 closets, and thus become more deeply imbued with 
 the spirit of their Master, and of those who devoted 
 their whole substance to the service of Christ, we 
 might, probably, have fewer plans and eloquent 
 speeches, less theatrical Christianity, but more effi- 
 cient labourers and more fruit. 
 
 The importance of religious retirement cannot 
 be doubted in such an age as ours, in which there 
 is so much error and infidelity, and when the very 
 activity and excitement, connected with our eccle- 
 siastical operations, are adapted to divert us from 
 the maintenance and culture of personal and spiri- 
 tual piety. The tendency of the age is to scepti- 
 cism, of an insinuating, plausible kind. It does not 
 stalk abroad in its bold, repulsive character, with 
 the hideous, hell-glazed features of \^le and blas- 
 phemous infidelity, but comes in the attractive 
 dress of liberality, of fashionable maxim, with the 
 soft whisper of exjDcdiency and worldly policy. 
 We must suit our conduct, our plans to the prevail- 
 ing tastes of the day ; we must not shock the world 
 by singularity, but yield as far as possible to its 
 
274 THE PRINCETON PULPIT. 
 
 fashions, its theories, and its forms. Thus we are 
 gradually led from the truth, and begin to look for 
 motives and principles in the world, which ought 
 to be searched for only in the will of God. How 
 necessary that we should frequently withdraw from 
 these seductive wiles of our enemies, that we may 
 carefully examine them in the pure light of God's 
 truth, and detect their falsity ! How anxious we 
 should be that our breastplate and heavenly armour 
 be entire and impenetrable, even to the finest 
 pointed shaft of infidelity and error ! How stead- 
 ily should we keep in view that bright ray of light 
 which streams from the upper world to guide our 
 steps, for 
 
 " The world's infectious ; few bring back at eve, 
 " Immaculate, the manners of the morn." 
 
 Not from this source alone, as we have just inti- 
 mated, is the Christian in danger. In the present 
 day, his mind is apt to be filled with great opera- 
 tions. The conversion of a single soul, the salva- 
 tion of his neighbour or child is too insignificant for 
 his enlarged and expanded views. His own per- 
 sonal defects and spiritual wants are gilded by the 
 illusive brightness of the world-grasping plans in 
 which he is engaged, his own individuality is swal- 
 lowed up in the magnitude and magnificence of the 
 world-regenerating engines in impetuous action 
 around him ; — their thunderings di'own that still, 
 small voice, which whispers to his own heart, en- 
 treating an audience. He is caught in the rushing 
 blast of enthusiasm, dashed along for awhile in the 
 
G. M. GIGER. 275 
 
 wake of these powerful engines, but gradually the 
 fires of his own piety go out, the needle has rusted 
 on its pivot, and he is left at last a sailless, chartless 
 wreck upon the treacherous sea of the world. He 
 is like the philosopher, who spent his whole time 
 and patrimony in endeavouring to discover some 
 priuci])le, some magic stone, to save the race from 
 hunger and from want, and died himself at last of 
 poverty and starvation. How insiduously does this 
 out-of-door Christianity operate ! How soon, when 
 not balanced and regulated by personal piety, do 
 we become puffed up with seK-righteousness, with 
 great conceit of the power and influence we are 
 wielding ! How seductive the world's applause ! 
 How it betrays us into ostentatious benevolence ! 
 How tame and tiresome does that quiet closet be- 
 come, where are no hosannas to greet our ears, no 
 trumpeting of good works that are seen of men, no 
 brilliant schemes, but the secret converse with our 
 OTVTi poor, sinful hearts, the humiliating spectacle 
 of our utter unworthiness and the sense of our 
 necessary and entire dependence upon God. I 
 would not undervalue these organizations and pub- 
 lic enterprises. They are powerful means for the 
 glory of God and the salvation of men, but they 
 are still mere means, engines 'tis true with tre- 
 mendous capacities, but in themselves possessing no 
 power. The power must come from God. With- 
 out his blessing, they are worse than useless. That 
 power is called into action by the true holiness of 
 his childi'en. It can be obtained only by the 
 assiduous culture of personal piety, by communion 
 
276 THE PEINCETON PULPIT. 
 
 with, him, and by constant prayer. This is the 
 gi'ancl conductor between earth and heaven. It 
 is prayer that "moves the hand that moves the 
 world." 
 
 It is a great mistake to suppose that they are the 
 most efficient who are always out in the world and 
 in a constant state of bustle and excitement. 
 Christians are too apt to guage their usefulness, and 
 calculate the success of their plans by the numbers 
 engaged in carrying them forward, and the amount 
 of excitement attending their operations. How 
 often do they measure God's blessing by the num- 
 ber of dollars and cents contributed towards their 
 prosecution ! But this is a delusion. The humblest 
 Christian in his closet may be more powerful than 
 the greatest organization. See yon mighty vessel 
 ploughing the ocean, dashing the spray in clouds 
 around its resistless prow; hear the thundering 
 roar of its machinery ; the soul of that leviathan, 
 he who governs it at will and directs its course 
 through the stormy, trackless deep, and controls its 
 hidden forces, is in that retii'ed spot upon deck, the 
 quietest being in the ship ; — it is he, who has his 
 eye fixed upon the compass, and his hand upon the 
 helm. 
 
 Besides in such great enterprises there is the 
 more urgent need of calm, prayerful deliberation, 
 and consultation, not with your weak, short-sight- 
 ed fellow-mortal, but with God, the author and 
 finisher of every good word and work. 
 
 JEven for luorldly piiTposes^ men find occasional 
 and sometimes frequent retirement necessary. 
 
G. M. gictEr. 277 
 
 The Mercliant often secludes himself for the pur- 
 pose of forming and arranging his plans. How his 
 mind becomes absorbed with the calculations which 
 involve his pecuniary advancement, in estimating 
 the chances of success in certain enterprises, or in 
 designing means for extricating his property from 
 threatened loss ! And do not you find it necessary 
 to withdraw from the exciting and distracting 
 scenes of life, to examine into your account with 
 high heaven ? Are you not interested in ascertain- 
 ing how you stand with your Maker, who will 
 demand a full account of the manner in which 
 you have employed the talents committed to your 
 care ? Is it of no importance to you to discover 
 how you may increase your treasure in heaven, 
 a' treasure more precious far than all the untold 
 wealth of gold and gems buried in a thousand 
 mines ? — Look at that Pliiloscyplw^ bending with 
 intensest interest over alembic and crucible, watch- 
 ing far into the still night the mysterious operar 
 tions of nature, striving to elicit a knowledge of 
 the laws which keep the created universe in har- 
 monious movement, or to deduce some principle 
 which may contribute to the comfort, the health 
 and the hap23iues3 of mankind. And do you feel 
 no desire to investigate the laws of God's moral 
 government ? Is not a knowledge of his will as 
 important to you as that of the laws of nature to 
 the philosopher ? You cannot be truly devoted to 
 Christ without feeling something of the same ab- 
 sorbing interest, of the same desire to commune 
 with the Father of lights, and to obtain from him. 
 
218 TUE PRINCETON PULPIT. 
 
 grace to fit you for your Cliristian duties. Will 
 you, can you go tlirougli life without constantly 
 supplicating God to make you instrumental in sav- 
 ing your fellow-men from that fearful wrath to 
 come ? Should the Philosopher consume his time 
 and energies for the benefit of man's physical be- 
 ing, and you not feel it a duty to obtain power and 
 direction from on high, to release them from the 
 bonds of iniquity, and the degradation of sin, and 
 doint out to them the path to eternal felicity ? 
 shall the Poet court retirement and solitude, that 
 he may indulge in the enjoyments of fancy, revel 
 in the vast, beautiful regions of imagination, and 
 send forth his winged thoughts to bring him un- 
 substantial visions from the ideal world ; and will 
 you refuse to retire that you may commune with 
 the Father of spirits and meditate with rapture 
 upon the glorious scenes of that bright world to 
 which you are an heir, whose splendours far trans- 
 cend the brightest vision of the Poet's dream ? 
 
 Religious retirement afibrds the hest opportimity 
 for increasing our religious knowledge. The value 
 of this is obvious from the truth that religioiu^ 
 Icnoivledge is essential to a true and saving faith. 
 Faith is the Christian's telescope ; — it is the key of 
 heaven ; — " the substance of things hoped for, the 
 evidence of things not seen." We must have some 
 true knowledge of God's holy law ; of our moral 
 condition, and of the plan of salvation, or we can 
 have no true and saving faith ; and the more sanc- 
 tified light we possess, the more intelligent and ac- 
 ceptable will be our faith. Now, as retirement 
 
G. M. GIGER. 279 
 
 aftbrds us the best opportunities for increasing our 
 religious knowledge, it is in this respect of gi-eat 
 advantage. The objects that we seek are impal- 
 pable, and invisible to the mortal eye. The great 
 God, the Holy Spirit ; the denizens of the skies, the 
 celestial city and its mansions not made with 
 hands, its 
 
 " Choral song, and burst 
 
 Sublime of instrumental harmony," 
 
 are, to the gross senses of the world, vague, indis- 
 tinct, unappreciable mysteries. For, as it is writ- 
 ten, " eye hath not seen, nor ear heard, neither have 
 entered into the heart of man, the things which 
 God hath prepared for them that love him. But 
 God hath revealed them unto us by his Spirit, for 
 the Spirit searcheth the deep things of God." The 
 true Christian, who delights in communion with 
 the Holy Spirit, and meditates upon his law, daily 
 acquires a stronger vision and gains a clearer and 
 more distinct appreciation of heavenly realities. 
 They begin to assume for him a distinctness almost 
 equal to that of the objects of natural sense around 
 him ; and eventually he is impressed with the un- 
 substantial, fleeting character of terrestrial things, 
 and the greater permanency and reality of the 
 heavenly world ; for, 
 
 " All, all on earth is shadow, all beyond 
 Is substance." 
 
 In the scientific world, Bacon is a striking exam- 
 ple of this wonderful power of knowledge. Be- 
 coming intimately acquainted with the workings 
 
280 THE princeto:p^ pulpit. 
 
 of nature and deeply versed in her laws, lie was 
 enabled to penetrate far into tlie future, and view 
 results such as when described by him, were looked 
 upon as romantic extravagance, rivalling and sur- 
 passing the fabled wonders of eastern story ; and 
 yet the greatest of these visions have been realized. 
 The mighty power of steam is doing the work of 
 the world, impelling sailless vessels which outstrip 
 the wind, and the chariot exceeding in velocity the 
 fleet horse of the desert ; — thoughts are flying with 
 the quickness of light around the globe, and the 
 lightning has been forced to act as the amanuensis 
 of man. Thus the Christian, by becoming familiar 
 with the oracles of God, by meditating upon heav- 
 enly themes, can acquire an insight of divine things, 
 surpassed only by inspiration. He can thus acquire 
 a faith which is firm, a knowledge which is certain. 
 Thus it was with those blessed martyrs of old, of 
 whom the world was not worthy. By constant 
 intercourse with their God, through their high 
 attainments in divine knowledge, they obtained 
 that powerful faith which supported them through 
 privation, suffering, even the tortures of cruel 
 deaths. God and heaven were to them not merely 
 beautiful imagery, but glorious, living realities, and 
 many a feeble saint, sustained by it, could look 
 joyfully through the fierce flames that were con- 
 suming the quivering fibres of their bodies, up to 
 the serene skies above, and see the heavens open, 
 the Son of Man sitting at the right hand of God, 
 and the angelic squadrons waiting to escort them 
 to the Lamb slain for them, and for whom he held 
 
G . M. GIGEE. 281 
 
 ready tlie martyr's crown of glory. Mijton, witli 
 liis wonderful imagination, which could wing its 
 unwearied lli<j:]it back throui^-h unnumbered aires, 
 and hold him an awed spectator of conflicting hosts, 
 the mighty warfare of Michael and his angelic band 
 with Satan and his swarming myriads of lost and 
 fallen fiends, which could circle in its steady flight 
 the sulphurous atmosphere of hell, and view its 
 dreary caverns, its hideous monsters, and its scenes 
 of horrid, never-ending woe, and then soar to the 
 shining realms of light, gaze with eye undimmed 
 upon the saj)phire battlements of heaven, and listen 
 to the entrancing strains of its great chorus of 
 bursting hallelujahs and harping symphonies, pos- 
 sessed no greater privilege than the humblest saint, 
 who, in his secret meditations, dwells upon the 
 glories of his promised heaven_, or batlies his soul 
 in the pure light of revelation. Let me take you 
 to yonder cell. The massive walls shut in a human 
 being from the world. Look through the grating. 
 There he sits, wrapt in meditation. The walls are 
 bare, and the rough, untapestried stones chill you 
 with a sense of cheerless solitude and sad loneliness. 
 Yet that prisoner feels not alone. To him, this se- 
 cluded solitude is more glorious than all the pomps 
 and pageant of the world. That contracted, gloomy 
 cell more enchanting than the thronged presence- 
 chamber of the most potent monarch uj^on earth. 
 Scenes are passing before his mind, which in beauty 
 and grandeur defy the painter s power to embody, 
 and mock the faintness of his most brilliant tints. 
 The whole Christian life is before him; — he sees 
 19 
 
282 THE PEIISrCETON PULPIT. 
 
 liim arrested by divine trutli, follows Him eagerly 
 to tlie cross, accompanies liim througli his toilsome 
 journey. He trembles for his safety in the dark 
 valley and shadow of death, his blood is chilled 
 by the terrific fiends who there assail and attempt 
 to destroy him, he sits down with him in that para- 
 dise of loveliness, the land of Beulah, and drinks 
 of the cool, refreshing waters of life. He looks 
 through the shepherd's glass, and feels the thrill of 
 ecstatic delight as he catches with him the first 
 prospect of the celestial city. He sees him passing 
 through the icy river of death, emerging from its 
 dark waters and entering the gates of the New 
 Jerusalem. He sees him passing up through the 
 long vista of glorified spirits, and the crown placed 
 upon his head amidst myriads of angels shouting 
 the anthems of victory, and striking their jewelled 
 harps of gold. Need I tell you that the humble 
 artizan, John Bunyan, was enabled by meditation 
 and private contemplation to obtain these wonder- 
 ful visions, and to view and record with such vivid- 
 ness all the incidents of the Christian pilgrim's life, 
 — ^his hopes — his fears — his temptations — his strug- 
 gles, — his victories and his glorious rewaixl ? Such 
 divine knoii^ledge, such an insight of the spiritual 
 world may every Christian obtain, who withdraws 
 himself more and more from earth, and meditates 
 on heaven. 
 
 Keligious knowledge is also necessary to correct 
 jyracticG. Without a knowledge of the will of God, 
 how shall we regulate our conduct in consistency 
 with our duty ? Without intelligence, how can we 
 
G . M . G I Cr E E . 283 
 
 proj^erly apportiou our time and means and personal 
 exertions ? Witliont religious knowledge, how 
 sliall we be able to persevere ? The reason why- 
 some are so inconsistent, indiscreet and fickle, is, 
 because they are so ignorant of the nature of true 
 religion and its di\dne requirements. Hence, the 
 Apostle says, that men are alienated from the life 
 of God, through the ignorance that is in them. They 
 are so much in the world, and so seldom with God, 
 that whilst their tastes, their pursuits, and their 
 conduct, are becomins: more and more allied to 
 earth, they gradually lose all spiritual attainments, 
 until at last God is scarcely in their thoughts. 
 
 Moreover, religious knowledge is essential to 
 our personal sanctification. " Sanctify them by 
 thy truth, thy word is truth." Now, if religious 
 knowledge is thus indispensable to faith and prac- 
 tice and personal holiness, and if religious retire- 
 ment affords the best .opportunities for the acquisi- 
 tion of such knowledge, then must its advantages 
 in this respect be invaluable. In order that man 
 may regain the divine image in which he was 
 created, that he may fulfil the divine injunction, 
 " be ye holy, for I am holy," he must endeavour to 
 become asssimilated to his Maker, by frequently 
 communing with him, and seeking to become tho- 
 roughly pervaded by the Holy Spirit, and inti- 
 mately acquainted with, and entirely subject to his 
 will. 
 
 Religious retirement is necessary to a due and 
 profitahh self-examination. In the busy world, 
 how can this be accomplished ? The objects around 
 
284 THE PEINCETON PULPIT. 
 
 US, the excitement connected with our pursuits, the 
 false, distorted views which the world gives to 
 everything examined through its medium, preclude 
 anything like an honest examination of our hearts. 
 Its uproar and contentions, its cares and perturba- 
 tions penetrate to and agitate our inmost soul. It is 
 in retirement alone, in the calm serenity of seclusion 
 that we can look in upon ourselves, and lay bare all 
 those secret springs of action so carefully concealed 
 from the world. Here w^e can duly estimate the 
 motives that are actuating our conduct. Here we can 
 calmly review the grounds of our professed interest 
 in the Saviour and the evidences of our faith. It 
 is in retirement that we can be honest with our- 
 selves. Here are no inducements to dissimulation 
 and concealment. We feel that we are in the 23re- 
 sence of the heart-searching God, and are con- 
 strained to cry out, " Lord search me and try me, 
 show me all my defects, my wants and my sinful- 
 ness." It is under such searching investigations, 
 such deep probings of the conscience, that we can 
 know our true position. Like the mariner, then, 
 when out of sight of land, with ocean around him, 
 and the sky above, resort to the compass of divine 
 truth, study well its cardinal points, examine tho- 
 roughly the records of your past progress, so that 
 you may be able to steer this richly-freighted 
 bark heavenward, and to detect the slightest 
 swerving from its safe and proper j^ath. 
 
 In retirement, we have the hest opportunity for 
 confession and contrition. What Christian is not 
 painfully sensible of constant transgressions of the 
 
G. M. GIGER. 285 
 
 law of God ? — of great and numerous omissions of 
 duty ? How ra]3idly do tliese sins accumulate ! 
 How they oppress and burden the conscience ! He 
 must have relief. The instincts of our nature even, 
 demand a confidant ; the heart is tortured by its own 
 consciousness of guilt. Where will he fly from the 
 compunctions of conscience, the lashings of re- 
 morse. To whom will he, can he fully confide the 
 sad story of his weaknesses and transgressions? 
 Will he lay his heart bare to the cold gaze of his 
 fellow-sinner 'i Even the nearest friends sometimes 
 cruelly abuse the confidence reposed in them. 
 Where else can he go, but to his gracious Father, 
 against whom he has offended, and there in solitude, 
 upon his bended knees, exclaim, " against thee, thee 
 only, have I sinned," and freely confess all the evil 
 he has done. There he can confess fully those se- 
 cret sins which he would not reveal to his bosom 
 friend. There he feels certain of being under- 
 stood, when telling God of those sins that do so 
 easily beset him, and with a heart overflowing with 
 emotion, he pours out his soul in sorrow, assured 
 that Christ will not reject him on account of his 
 vileness, that a contrite and broken heart he will 
 not despise. Besides, as many sins may, at the 
 time of their commission, be either unnoticed or 
 else inadequately repented of, it is necessary that 
 we should retire from the world hal)itually, in 
 order that they may be recalled, — that we may 
 dwell more seriously upon their character and ag- 
 gravations, — repent of them more sincerely and 
 
286 THE PKINCETON PULPIT. 
 
 deeply, and resolve and pray for grace to enable 
 us to guard against them in future. 
 
 Another advantage of retirement is, that it en- 
 ables us to obtain more correct mews of this ivorld. 
 
 Whilst engaged in its active pursuits and plea- 
 sm^es, we are often under a delusioii, and become 
 the victims of our own folly. Well may this world 
 be compared to a great theatre, whose players are 
 madmen. Phantoms are flitting amongst the throng- 
 ing crowds who view them as realities. Ambition, 
 holding forth its fading laurel, — sharp-featured 
 Avarice, with his piles of gold, — rosy-crowned 
 Pleasure, beaming with her deceitful smiles, and 
 presenting to her followers the cup of sparkling 
 death, — these, and a host of others, are pursued 
 and courted with the most unbounded eagerness. 
 There we see the votaries of Ambition, w^asting the 
 energies of a u^hole life in struggling up to some 
 eminence which elevates them a little above those 
 immmediately around them, and yet, scarcely have 
 they placed their feet upon it, when it begins to 
 crumble beneath them, scarcely has the flush of 
 success faded from their excited features, when the 
 laurel is snatched from theii- brows, and placed by 
 the fickle crowd upon another god of the hour. 
 What thousands do we see toiling from the rising 
 to the setting sun, whose eyes are never turned up- 
 ward to behold God's glorious universe, but fixed 
 upon the earth, grovelling like worms, all theii' 
 energies, thoughts and aspirations devoted to the 
 work of scraping together a few handfuls of glit- 
 tering dust, only to drop from their tight grasp, as 
 
G. M. GIGER. 28Y 
 
 the' icy finger of death palsies tlie hands which hohl 
 it. Amidst this ardour of excitement, amidst tliis 
 strugghng, panting crowd, the Christian often be- 
 comes infected with the like passions, and over- 
 come by the spell of the tempter, is drawn within 
 the charmed circle, and almost entirely forgets and 
 loses sight of his great destiny and the realities of 
 his heavenly inheritance. But let him turn aside, 
 and calmly contemplate the scenes of earth. How 
 different do they appear ! How vain ! How tran- 
 sient ! Who, in such an hour, can restrain the ex- 
 clamation, " what shadows we are, what shadows 
 we pursue ?" He has retired to the solitude of his 
 chamber ; his memory runs back through his past 
 life. It is busy with the scenes and companions of 
 his youth. Where are they now ? Gone to the 
 dark and silent tomb. Their familiar voices greet 
 not his ear, their forms no longer meet his eye. 
 How quickly did they pass away ! What is the 
 world with all its honours, its wealth, its pleasures, 
 now to them ? What will their value be to us 
 when called to leave them for ever ? Our early 
 views and high expectations, how few have ever 
 been realized ! The honors that we have won and 
 worn, how empty have they proved themselves to 
 be ! And the scenes which now surround us, — 
 the objects of present pursuit, — the aspirations and 
 hopes which now animate and impel our souls, are 
 they not equally vain ? Will they not prove as 
 certainly illusive ? Contemplation now unfolds her 
 wings, and rising above the hazy atmosphere, 
 places us upon some lofty eminence. The world is 
 
288 THE PEINCETON PULPIT. 
 
 "beneatli us. Tlie loud roar of its merriment cannot 
 "be heard so Iiigli, the swelling chorus of the or- 
 chestra ra\dshes not our ears, the insignia of world- 
 ly honour, the gorgeous robes of wealth and power 
 eannot be discerned, even the bright gems of 
 her richest diadems flash no gleam of light. We 
 ©an merely see the crowds hurrying to and fro, 
 pursuing ^^ith a^ddity the shadows which are ever 
 mocking their expectations and eluding their 
 embrace. How rapidly do they disappear in the 
 graves at their veiy feet ! The earth closes over 
 them, and there those pampered bodies for whose 
 welfare souls have been lost, lie amidst the decay- 
 ing myriads who have preceded them, and quickly 
 moulder into dust. We see change, constant 
 change, nothing substantial, nothing satisfactory, 
 nothing permanent. We gaze around upon the 
 mighty mountains, appearing as though they at 
 least were built for eternity, rooted in the heart of 
 earth, and piercing the heavens with their snow- 
 capped summits, 
 
 " and yet, 
 
 " What are they, but a wreck and residue 
 " Whose only business is to perish." 
 
 We rise higher. Earth, with its lofty mountains, 
 its extended plains, and its vast oceans, has dwin- 
 dled to a point. We are surrounded by immense, 
 magnificent planets ;— thousands and tens of thou- 
 sands of worlds are rolling in awful majesty and 
 grandeur around blazing centres; — as far as the 
 
G. M. GIGER. 289 
 
 strained vision can reacli millions more are flaming 
 in remoter fields. 
 
 " A flood of glory bursts from all the skies." 
 We are bewildered and overpowered in this vast, 
 mazy splendour of circling orbs. What are all these 
 but the golden dust of the universe, which God has 
 poured forth to beautify and adorn his footstool ? 
 What but 
 
 " A constellation of ten thousand gems 
 
 " Set in one signet, flames on the right hand 
 
 " Of majesty divine, 
 
 the " blazing seal of his Omnipotence and Love." 
 These shall all perish, and as a vesture shall God 
 fold them up.— We ascend still higher, up through 
 the starry hosts to the ineffable centre and source 
 of all glory, the throne of God. Tell me, now, 
 what is yonder earth ? What its heaps of hoarded 
 wealth compared with these jasper walls, gates of 
 pearl, crystal foundations and golden streets ? 
 What its hollow, death-drugged pleasures compared 
 with that flood of ecstatic bliss which rolls its 
 ceaseless tide throughout the realms of light? 
 What are all the tinselled glories of earth, its 
 diadems and gorgeous robes, the baubles of royalty 
 and power, what its greatest pageants, compared 
 with that presented by thousand upon ten thousand 
 thousand saints thronging around the great white 
 throne, crowned with the flashing, full-gemmed 
 coronals of heaven ? What are all earth's painted 
 insignificancies compared with the untold splendours 
 of the New Jerusalem ? 
 
290 THE PEINCETON PULPIT. 
 
 Siicli contemplations, retrospections and reflec- 
 tions cannot but make us wiser and better 
 men ; — tliey cannot but moderate our worldly 
 desires, because they enable us to set a truer 
 estimate upon all earthly tilings. Bebold the 
 eifect u])oii the Puritans, as recorded by the 
 pen of impartial history. " Their minds derived a 
 peculiar character from the daily contemplation of 
 superior beings and eternal interests. To know 
 God, to serve him, to enjoy him, was with them the 
 great end of existence. They rejected with con- 
 tempt the ceremonious homage which other sects 
 substituted for the pure worship of the soul. 
 Instead of catching occasional glimpses of the 
 Deity through an obscuring veil, they aspired to 
 gaze full on the intolerable brightness, and to com- 
 mune with him face to face. The difference be- 
 tween the greatest and meanest of mankind seemed 
 to vanish when compared with the boundless inter- 
 val which separated the whole race from Him on 
 whom their eyes were constantly fixed. If they 
 were unacquainted with the works of philosophers 
 and poets, they were deeply read in the oracles 
 of God. If their names were not found in the 
 registers of heralds, they felt assured that they 
 were recorded in the Book of Life. If their steps 
 were not accompanied by a splendid train of menials, 
 legions of ministering angels had charge over 
 them. Their palaces were houses not made with 
 hands : their diadems crowns of glory which should 
 never fade away. For his sake empires had risen, 
 flourished and decayed. For his sake the Almighty 
 
G. M. GIGEE. 291 
 
 had proclaimed Lis will by tlie pen of tlie evauge- 
 list and tlie liarp of the prophet. He had been 
 rescued by no common deliverer from the grasp of 
 no common foe. He had been ransomed by the 
 sweat of no vulgar agony, by the blood of no 
 earthly sacrifice. It wna for him that the sun had 
 been darkened, that the rocks had been rent, that 
 the dead had arisen, that all nature had shuddered 
 at the sufferings of her expiring God." 
 
 Finally, the contemplations which are appropri- 
 ate aud natural to the pious in retirement, are 
 strongly adapted to improve their affections^ and to 
 increase their attachment to heaven. 
 
 While reflecting upon the vanity of all earthly 
 attainments and j^leasures; — w^hile surveying the 
 melancholy wreck of our fondest and most cherished 
 hopes, — while contemplating the uncertainty and 
 shortness of our present career, — how natural it is 
 to turn our attention to those spiritual and heavenly 
 objects w^hich are certain, solid and enduring ! 
 The heart, that will and must have some object 
 of interest and affection, turns to these with 
 increased desire, confidence and pleasure. From 
 the vain jiursuits of earth, — its unsatisfying posses- 
 sions and enjoyments, — its sins and sorrows, — its 
 crushed hopes — its hidden griefs and mortal agonies, 
 the soul looks upward and yearns for heaven. 
 
 There are, indeed, some green and sunny spots 
 in his earthly pilgrimage, upon which the Christian 
 can look back with pious and grateful satisfaction. 
 The period of his conversion to God — the hours 
 which were spent in devotion — his works of benev- 
 
292 THE PRINCETOI^ PULPIT. 
 
 olence and piety — ^the sacrifices he has made — the 
 trials he has endured for Jesus' sake are still remem- 
 bered with lively gratitude and heart-felt pleasure. 
 But will not the recollection and contemplation of 
 these excite and elevate and spiritualize still more 
 the affections and aims of his soul ? Will he not 
 long for, and weep and pray for the renewal of his 
 Letter days ? Will he not covet the experience of 
 equal, if not superior communications and displays 
 of the love and grace and power of his God ? And 
 will not there collection of the pleasure which he 
 experienced in communion with God, imperfect as 
 it was, increase his desire to be admitted into the 
 presence and perfect enjoyment of God in heaven ? 
 
SEARCH THE SCRIPTURES. 
 
 BT 
 
 THE REV. THOMAS W. CATTELL, M.A., 
 
 PUINCIPAL OF EDGE HILL SOIIOOU 
 
 These were more noble than those in Thessalonica ; in that they received 
 the wprd with all readiness of mind, and searched the Scriptures daily 
 whether those things were so. — Acts xvii. 11. 
 
 The Apostle Paul went from Thessalonica to 
 Berea. At the former place, his doctrines had been 
 rejected, and he and his friends had been treated 
 with great rudeness by the unbelieving Jews. They 
 departed, therefore, privately, to the neighbouring 
 city of Berea; and there Paul, according to his 
 custom, went into the synagogue of the Jews, and 
 three Sabbath days reasoned with them out of the 
 Scriptures. By the Bereans, the apostle and his 
 doctrines were differently received, and this differ- 
 ence is described in the text. " These were more 
 noble than those in Thessalonica; in that they 
 received the word with all readiness of mind, and 
 searched the Scriptures daily, whether those things 
 were so." The persons here referred to were Jews, 
 as well as those at Thessalonica. They were strongly 
 attached to the institutions of Moses— to the cere- 
 monies handed down to them by their fathers, and 
 consecrated by ages of devout observance. The 
 
294 THE PRINCETON P TJ L P I T . 
 
 preaching of the apostle sounded strangely in their 
 ears. It seemed to conflict with their established 
 faith. But as he had appealed to their own Scrip- 
 ture, and professed to derive all his arguments 
 and proofs from their own proj)hets, they did not 
 reject them at once. They listened with fixed 
 attention, received the word with all readiness of 
 mind, and began to search the Scriptures for them- 
 selves, to study their sacred writings, to see if these 
 things were so, if they were really contained in 
 their Scriptures, and could be fairly proved by the 
 writings of Moses and the prophets. 
 
 The conduct of the Bereans is here sj)oken of by 
 the sacred writer as more noble than that of others 
 who had rejected the gospel without examining its 
 claims — who had retained the prejudices of their 
 early education, without regard to the great truths 
 which their early training involved. As the can- 
 dor and diligence of the Bereans is commended, so 
 it is worthy of our imitation, so far as the circum- 
 stances of their case are applicable to ourselves. 
 
 I. The first thing mentioned to the praise of the 
 Bereans is that tliey received tlie word with all 
 readiness of mind. This does not mean that they 
 became Christians as soon as they heard the preach- 
 ing of Paul. They did not lay aside, on the elo- 
 quent persuasions of a passing stranger, the doc- 
 trines and practice of their fathers, from the time 
 of Moses. But the subject was interesting and 
 important; the claims it presented were urgent 
 and plausible ; the Bereans therefore gave it their 
 attention. They listened calmly to the wonders of 
 
THOMAS W. CAT TELL. 295 
 
 the gospel. They were willing to learn what Paul 
 professed to teach. Whether they should adopt 
 his doctrines was a question to be afterwards de- 
 cided. In this respect, their conduct differed 
 widely from the course of those to whom Paul had 
 preached at Thessalonica. These rejected the gos- 
 pel at once, without being acquainted with its 
 nature. They heard some things which seemed to 
 conflict with their previous notions, and without 
 waiting to know the whole truth, without under- 
 standing the origin or the bearing of the gospel, 
 they became its bitter and determined opposers. 
 
 The conduct of the Bereans in thus receiving the 
 word with all readiness of mind, diffei's from the 
 course of many who reject the gospel in our day. 
 There are many now, as then, who hear but in part : 
 who conceive a hasty aversion to religion, and op- 
 pose violently what they do not understand. There 
 may be some who are familiar with the Bible who 
 do not live according to its teachings. There is a 
 reason for this in the depravity of the heart. Know- 
 ledge is not the whole of true piety, though the 
 want of it is a fertile soui'ce of infidelity ; but we 
 are safe in affirming, that most, if not all, rejecters 
 of the gospel resemble the Bereans less than the 
 Thessalonians. 
 
 This hasty condemnation is confessedly ungener- 
 ous. It is still mor'e unwise. Any subject has a 
 claim to our attention in proportion to its import- 
 ance, its probability, and our opportunities of in- 
 vestigating its truth. Now the gospel professes to 
 deal with the highest interests of the immortal 
 
296 THE PRINCETON PFLPIT. 
 
 soul. Tlie burden of its teacliing is, tliat a way of 
 salvation lias been provided for dyirg men ; that 
 there is redeuii^tion for sinners, happiness and eter- 
 nal life for the miserable and condemned. If there 
 be but a bare possibility of its truth, it is of vast 
 importance; but if the nature and degree of its 
 evidence renders it highly probable ; nay, if that 
 evidence is accessible to all, and is yet so clear that 
 it cannot be resisted, then surely the gospel has an 
 overwhelmino: claiin. The heart bears witness to 
 its own sinful state ; the curse of sin is all around 
 us, it is written on all the sufferings of life, it is 
 visible in death, and it speaks in the conscience in 
 tones not to be misunderstood. That a way of 
 redemption was possible, and that Jesus Christ is a 
 divine Savioui^, the apostle proved by the miracles 
 he was em]30wered to perform in his name, and by 
 the wonderful fulfilment of types and pi'ophecies in 
 the person and history of the Son of God. The 
 facts upon which his arguments were based were 
 all familiar ; the proofs he brought in supjwrt of 
 his conclusions were accessible to his hearers, and 
 adapted to their comprehension. A refusal, there- 
 fore, to examine the subject gave evidence, either 
 of a weak head or a bad heart. 
 
 11. The next thing worthy of note in the conduct 
 of the Bereans is, that they searched the Scriptures 
 daily ^ wlietlier these things were so. After they had 
 heard Paul's preaching, his doctrines, and his argu- 
 ments, they seem slow to adopt his views. They 
 still cling to what they know to be true. The 
 Bible was the anchor of their faith. They had 
 
THOMAS W. CATTELL. 29T 
 
 been favored witli repeated evidence tliat tlieir 
 Scriptures were a revelation from God. To the 
 Scriptures, therefore, the Bereans resort to test the 
 doctrines of the apostle. There was much in his 
 preaching in apparent conflict with their ceremonial 
 observances. It proposed to abolish customs con- 
 sidered sacred for ages — to lay aside the smoking 
 altar and the bleeding victim for a spiritual sacri- 
 fice of prayer and faith. It seemed like tearing 
 the very life of religion from their hearts. They 
 must have clear grounds for a change so thorough, 
 Nothing less than the authority of God himself 
 could satisfy theii* minds; they search the Scrip- 
 tures, therefore, with intense anxiety. It is a daily 
 search, a close examination of its inspired teachings. 
 The arguments of the apostle, if we may judge by 
 his writings, were close and conclusive. There was 
 no such thing as denying his conclusions, if his 
 premises were correct. The Bereans searched the 
 Scriptures in private to see if these were true. He 
 had led them to grand results. He had exhibited 
 God in a new and wonderful character. He had 
 pointed out the end of their sacrifices — the great 
 high priest and victim, so long and so beautifully 
 typified in their temple service. He had spoken 
 of faith in Christ as connected with peace and free- 
 dom from condemnation. Could there be any mis- 
 take on these points ? did they follow from what 
 the Old Testament taught of the character and 
 work of their Messiah ? was Jesus of Nazareth the 
 hope of their nation? did all the descrij^tions of 
 their prophets and all the symbols of their law 
 20 
 
298 THE PRINCETON PULPIT. 
 
 meet and find tlieir fulfilment in liim ? Thus they 
 compare the apostle's doctrine with their sacred 
 books ; they search the Scriptm*es daily ; it is no 
 occasional reading, no single question, but a re- 
 peated and anxious searching of the Bible, the 
 expression of a sincere and ardent desire to know 
 the truth, to know whether the gospel had a well- 
 grounded claim upon their faith. 
 
 This is the point in which their example is espe- 
 cially worthy of our imitation. The gospel comes 
 to us as it did to the Bereans, with its claims and 
 its evidence. Its claims are founded on its import- 
 ance and its probable truth : its evidence is laid in 
 miracles and prophecy, and in the present opera- 
 tions of an Almighty Sj^irit. If we have not the 
 ministry of Christ and his Apostles, we have their 
 recorded testimony to the great doctrines for which 
 they lived and died. We have the Prophecies — 
 still unfolding their meaning to the interpretation 
 of the events so long predicted — and we have, 
 above all, the witness of the Spirit, in the adapted- 
 ness of the gospel to the necessities of our dying 
 state. We have the power of the gospel exhibited 
 in the lives of its real possessors — in its victory 
 over sin and the grave. The very existence of the 
 church, with its sacred influences, is a witness for 
 the truth of the gospel ; at this very day there are 
 hundreds of thousands believing its promises and 
 rejoicing in its hopes. It has brought peace into 
 our communities, happiness into our families, and 
 joyful hopes to cheer the departing moments of 
 many once dear to our hearts. Is it possible, under 
 
THOMAS W. CATTELL. 299 
 
 all tliese circumstances to remain indifferent to tlie 
 question wlietber these things are so ; with so mucli 
 to indicate its importance — with so much to render 
 it, to say the least, probable, are we not called 
 upon to give it a serious examination ? 
 
 If those who neglect religion are right, if they 
 are excusable in their course, then how wonderful 
 must be the delusion of so many of the professed 
 believers in the gospel, from the time when Jesus 
 died upon the cross. If these things be not so, 
 how deeply are our friends, some whom we most 
 respect and love, how deeply are they sunk in a 
 miserable superstition. But if on the other hand, 
 they are right, if they have found him of whom 
 Moses in the law and the prophets did write, then 
 how terrible is your condition if you neglect it. If 
 there be any thing in religion, and we neglect it, it 
 is at the peril of our souls. To remain indifferent 
 is to perish. 
 
 I have thus far urged attention to the subject of 
 religion, from its importance, and from the over- 
 whelming probability that it is true. I now men- 
 tion, in conclusion, two other considerations, one 
 drawn from the history of the Bereans, and the 
 other from the effects of a candid examination upon 
 Christian life. 
 
 I. The natural tendency of a candid and tho- 
 rough examination of the claims of the gospel is to 
 lead to true piety. It is added in the verse which 
 follows the text, Therefore many of tliem believed^ 
 as the result of their fidelity in searching the scrip- 
 tures. It lias already been remarked that in very 
 
300 THE PEINCETON PULPIT. 
 
 many, if not in all cases, infidelity is connected witli 
 ignorance. A knowledge of the gospel is an essen- 
 tial element of conversion. Yet knowledge is not 
 of itself enough, to make any man a sincere Chris- 
 tian. There is much in the Bible which opposes 
 the pride of the human heart, and there is much 
 even in the character of the Saviour to give offence 
 to wicked men. So that we might know the whole 
 gospel, in all its parts, and yet be lost. Yet know- 
 ledge is not only important — it is necessary. With- 
 out some correct apprehension of the truths of the 
 Bible, there is, for intelligent sinners, no salvation. 
 It has often occurred that mere desire of know- 
 ledge — a mere willingness to examine, has led not 
 only to a conviction of the truth, but to a saving 
 acquaintance with its rich provisions. 
 
 It is related of Gilbert West and Lord Lyttleton, 
 that being once in conversation on their infidel 
 views, they agreed to unite in exposing the preten- 
 sions of the Bible from its own evidence. The one 
 chose the history of the conversion of Paul, and the 
 other his doctrine of the resurrection, as the points 
 of their attacks. With vigorous minds they began 
 the study of their subjects, and the result was two 
 of the most masterly arguments in favor of the 
 Christian religion now in possession of the Church. 
 Lord Lyttleton not only convinced himself, but he 
 will convince any candid man who reads his trea- 
 tise, that the account of Paul's conversion, given in 
 the twenty-sixth chapter of Acts, must be true, 
 because it is impossible to explain the narration on 
 any other supposition. It was impossible for Paul 
 
THOMAS W. CAT TELL. 301 
 
 to liave been an enthusiast, a dupe, or a liypocrite. 
 Tlie only solution of liis conduct is to be found in 
 the truth of his narration, and in the reality of the 
 doctrines he believed and preached. 
 
 II. Again, a thorough examination of the Scrip- 
 tures is wise in reference to the satisfaction of believ- 
 ing and the comfort of religious experience. It lays 
 the foundation for a solid and progressive Christian 
 character. It gives clearness to the Christian's 
 views, stability to his judgment, and confidence 
 throughout his life. He is distracted by no fears, 
 lest all should prove delusive. He knows it to be 
 true. He has received no cunningly devised fable. 
 His house is built upon the rock, unmoved by all 
 the storms of unbelief. 
 
 Therefore, let the duty of searching the Scrip- 
 tures become a paramount matter, not only because 
 the whole subject of religion is of vast and unspeak- 
 able importance ; not only because all the evidence 
 is in favor of its truth; but also because this is one 
 divinely-appointed means of conversion, and be- 
 cause the knowledge of the Scriptures thus ob- 
 tained will be of incalculable benefit to you, if you 
 ever do become a sincere follower of Christ. As, 
 therefore, you value your safety, as you hope to 
 have an interest in the blessings of the gospel, and 
 as you desire to enjoy the advantages of religion, 
 let me urge you to search the Scriptures, whether 
 these things are so. 
 
THE POSITION OF THE HUMAN EACE IN THE 
 DIVINE ECONOMY. 
 
 JOHN T. DUFFIELD, A. M., 
 
 ADJUNCT PROFESSOR OF MATHEMATICS. 
 
 " God hath concluded them all in unbelief, that He might have mercy upon 
 all."— Rom. xi. 32. 
 
 God hath concluded them all^ — that is, both Jews 
 and Gentiles, — in unbelief ^ that He Tnight have mer- 
 cy upon all. Tlie truth here asserted, the Apostle 
 re-affirms in his Epistle to the Galatians, iii. 22. 
 His language there is, "The Scripture hath con- 
 cluded all under sin, that the promise by faith of 
 Jesus Christ might be given to them that believe." 
 
 From a comparison of these two passages, it is 
 evident : 
 
 (1.) That the expression in the Epistle to the 
 Galatians, — " the ScriptuTe hath concluded all un- 
 der sin," — simply means, that the Scriptures de- 
 clare the fact, that God hath so concluded all. 
 
 (2.) That the expression " in unbelief," as it oc- 
 curs in the text, is synonymous with " under sin," 
 — the word "unbelief" being so used, since un- 
 belief is the most prominent development of the 
 sinfulness of our race. 
 
JOHN T . D U F F I E L D . 303 
 
 (3.) The language used in tlie Epistle to the Ga- 
 latioDs, explains or renders definite the particular 
 form or manifestation of " mercy" referred to in 
 the text — " that the promise by faith of Jesus 
 Christ, might be given to them that believe." 
 
 (4.) AVhen the text declares that God designed 
 to " have mercy upon «//," the corresponding ex- 
 pression in the Epistle to the Galatians teaches, 
 that the word " all" in this connexion is not to be 
 taken in its universal, unlimited signification, but is 
 restricted to all " them that believe." 
 
 The doctrine, therefore, of the Apostle, in these 
 passages of Scripture, is, that — 
 
 God hath concluded all under sin, that He 
 
 MIGHT manifest HiS MEECY, IN THE SALVATION, 
 
 THROUGH Christ, of them that believe. 
 
 We may be enabled to apprehend more distinct- 
 ly, and fully, this important truth, by considering, 
 in order — 
 
 1st, The fact, that all men are under sin. 
 
 2dly, That they are so by the permissive will of 
 
 God. 
 3dly, The end which God accomplishes, and 
 which we may therefore say. He designed to 
 accomplish, by this permission. 
 
 I. And first, as to the fact, that all men are under 
 
 etn. 
 
 David, in the 14th, and again in the 53d Psalm, 
 declares in language, which is again repeated by 
 the Apostle Paul in his Epistle to the Komans, — 
 as if to multiply the testimony of insj^iratiou to the 
 
304 THE PEINCETON PULPIT. 
 
 fact, — " there is none righteous, no, not one ; there 
 is none that nnderstandeth ; there is none that 
 seeketh after God ; they are all gone out o f the 
 way ; they are together become unprofitable ; there 
 is none that doeth good, no, not one." Rom. iii. 10- 
 12. Paul elsewhere expresses this same truth, in 
 connexion with a declaration as to the origin and 
 consequences of this, our deplorable condition. " By 
 one man sin entered into the world, and death by 
 sin ; and so death passed upon all men, for that all 
 have sinned." Rom. v. 12. 
 
 What a commentary on these and similar decla- 
 rations of Scripture, does the history of our race 
 present ! We see sin manifested, not as a peculia- 
 rity of particular individuals, or classes, or nations, 
 or races ; nor confined to particular times and eras, 
 — all have sinned, and come short of the glory of 
 God, — there is no man that liveth and sinneth not. 
 
 And this evil thing affects, not only all human 
 actions, and words, and thoughts, but our very na- 
 ture is corrupt, — the fruit is not good, because the 
 tree is not good, — the waters are foul, because the 
 fountain is impure, — we are " conceived in sin" — 
 we are " brought forth in iniquity,"^ — we are " by 
 nature, the children of wrath." We see the wages 
 of sin — the penalty of a want of conformity to 
 God's law, — reigning " even over those who have 
 not sinned after the similitude of Adam's trans- 
 gression." Rom. V. 14. The newly-born infant, 
 scarce conscious of its being, is yet the subject of 
 suffering and of death ; and is marked thereby, no 
 less distinctly than was guilty Cain, as obnoxious 
 
JOHN T. DUFFIELD. 305 
 
 to God's all-compreliending and uucompromismg 
 law. 
 
 This universal and entire sinfulness of our race — 
 a foct, in itself, so abasing and so alarming — does 
 not when announced make upon us its due impres- 
 sion ; partly, because of the eftect of sin upon our- 
 selves, deadening our moral sensibilities ; and part- 
 ly, because all around us are, like ourselves, involved 
 in the guilty degradation. Not only does sin blind 
 us, or at least render us indifferent to its own ap- 
 palling enormity, but besides, all intelligent crea- 
 tures with whom we are sensibly acquainted, are 
 our fellow-sinners. 
 
 But consider, for a moment, what sin is ; and 
 consider, too, that notwithstanding the many mil- 
 lions of the human race, sin is, doubtless, still a com- 
 paratively rare thing among God's intelligent crea- 
 tures ; and we will see reason for dread wonder, 
 that the Omnipotent and Holy One, should allow 
 such wretches as we are, to defile his creation. 
 
 For, what is sin ? It is the violation of the law 
 of God ; a law,, to which we are, by the very fact 
 of our existence, bound to render supreme obedi- 
 ence ; a law, too, which, even whilst we transgress 
 it, we cannot but acknowledge is only " holy, and 
 just, and good." Sin is therefore nothing less than 
 unprovoked rebellion against our Maker, — it is no- 
 thing other than enmity against our God. This is 
 the fearful thing of which we all are guilty. 
 
 And then, too, we stand almost alone in our ini- 
 quity. Sin, we have reason to believe, is a compa- 
 ratively rare thing, and a sinner is the exception 
 
306 THE PRINCETON PULPIT. 
 
 among the subjects of God's wide dominion. Think 
 of those myriad worlds, and systems of worlds, 
 with which He, who is " Almighty in working," 
 has (we may almost say) filled immensity — in com- 
 parison with whicli the trifling earth we tread is 
 but as the small dust of the balance — an atom 
 floating in the sunbeam. Think of these countless 
 worlds, all peopled as they doubtless are with 
 countless generations of intelligent and responsi- 
 ble creatures, — think of the vast gap in the scale of 
 intelligence, between our finite minds and God the 
 Infinite — a gap filled in with rank above rank, in 
 long succession, of angelic beings, — thrones, and do- 
 minions, and principalities, and powers ; — and of all 
 these innumerable hosts — innumerable not merely 
 as to individuals, but as to species or kinds of indi- 
 vidual being — there are not, we have reason to be- 
 lieve, such moral monsters as sinners found, except 
 on earth where we abide, and in hell. Men and 
 devils damned, alone of all creation, have dared to 
 lift the arm of rebellion against the Lord of Hosts. 
 Other orders of intelligent creatures are, doubtless, 
 rejoicing in the holy exercises of their unfallen fa- 
 culties — loving with supreme afi'ection, serving witli 
 untiring zeal, glorifying witli unmingled devotion, 
 their great, adorable Creator — as burning seraphs 
 before the throne, or winged cherubs on swift flight 
 to do His will — ministering spirits, ever hearkening 
 to the voice of His word. Children of men, and 
 demons of the pit, alone of all God's hosts, shun 
 their Creator's blessed presence, despise His holy 
 
JOHN T. DUFFIELD. 307 
 
 law, dislionour His liallowed name, and would rob 
 Him of His glory. 
 
 Suppose that man had never fallen, and that our 
 race were still rejoicing in the full glory of our first 
 estate ; and suppose that among the many millions 
 of the happy, holy, inhabitants of earth, some one 
 or two sinners should appear — rebels against God, 
 " rejoicing in iniquity," " loving darkness rather 
 than the light" — such wretches would not present 
 to our eyes a sight more strange and monstrous, 
 than our race now presents to the holy intelligences 
 above us, and to Jehovah, our sovereign God. 
 
 Such, my friends, is our lamentable condition — 
 " under sin" — at " enmity against God" — " children 
 of wrath." 
 
 II. But further, not only are all men thus under 
 sin, but they are so by the permissive ivill of God. 
 This is the second point proposed for our consider- 
 ation. 
 
 " God hath concluded," is the declaration of the 
 text, " all in unbelief," or " under sin." This lan- 
 guage does not merely teach that since men have, 
 in fact, become sinners, God now regards them as 
 such, — it expresses the higher truth, that our race 
 have fallen into this state of sin, by His permissive 
 will. " God hath concluded all in unbelief." 
 
 The word " concluded," here, has evidently not 
 its now common and ordinary signification of fin- 
 ished^ completed^ but its original and proper etymo- 
 logical signification as given in the margin, shut up 
 together. The form of expression represents us, as. 
 
308 THE PEINCETON PULPIT. 
 
 by tlie permission of God, shut up togetlier under 
 sin, — like prisoners, shut up together in a prison ; 
 or like the occupants of a besieged city, shut up to- 
 gether by the power of the enemy. So has God 
 seen fit to give up our race to the power of sin. 
 
 That we are thus under sin by His permissive 
 will, is evident : 
 
 1st. From the very fact itself, that we are now 
 under sin. For this important fact in the history 
 of mankind, must have occurred either hy the per- 
 missive will of God, or in opposition to His will, or 
 (the only remaining supposition) He had no will in 
 regard to the occurrence. 
 
 Now, we say that neither this event, nor any 
 event, small or great, has ever occurred, in opposi- 
 tion to the will of the Sovereign Ruler of the uni- 
 verse. " My counsel shall stand, and I will do all 
 my pleasure," saith the Lord. Yea, Jehovah, the 
 only God, ever " doeth His will among the armies 
 of heaven and the inhabitants of earth." No crea- 
 ture, nor combination of creatures, can stay His al- 
 mighty arm. 
 
 Nor, further, can it be true, that God, our 
 Maker, liacl no ivill in reference to the obedience or 
 fall of man, and the consequent holiness or sinful- 
 ness of our race. The God of the Bible is not — as 
 some of the heathen imagine of their deities — indif- 
 ferent to the condition of the creatures He has 
 brought into being. He is not only the Creator, 
 but the Controller and Governor of the universe, 
 having his own wise and mighty purposes, which 
 He is ever accomplishing. " His throne is in the 
 
JOHN T. DUFFIELD. 309 
 
 Leavens, and He maketli this earth His footstool, 
 and His kingdom ruleth over all." The very hairs 
 of our head are numbered by Him — yea " not a 
 sparrow falleth to the ground without our Father" 
 — and dare we imagine, that He was or is indiffer- 
 ent as that which affects the destiny of a whole 
 I'ace of His immortal creatures ? 
 
 Since, then, the fall of man, and the consequent 
 sinfulness of our race, could not have occurred in 
 opposition to the Divine will, — since it is an event, 
 in regard to which He would not have been indif- 
 ferent, we say, that the very existence of the fact, 
 is an incontestible proof that it occurred by His 
 permissive will. 
 
 But, 2dly, This is further confirmed by the ex- 
 j)ress declarations of Scripture. " He worketh all 
 things^'' says the Apostle, "all things after the 
 counsel of His own will." Eph. i. 11. And lest 
 any should suppose that sinful events were beyond 
 or without His providential control. His own voice 
 is heard declaring " I form the light, and create 
 darkness, — I make peace, and create evil ; I, the 
 Lord, do all these things." Isa. xlv. T. With even 
 more distinctness, if possible, the Spirit, by Solo- 
 mon, declares, " the Lord hath made all things for 
 Himself, yea, even the wicked for the day of evil." 
 Prov. xvi. 4. In harmony with these and similar 
 passages of Scripture, is the declaration of the text, 
 " God hath concluded all in unbelief." 
 
 In regard to the proposition here maintained, 
 that men are under sin by the permissive will of 
 God, it may be appropriate to remark, that it does 
 
310 THE PRINCETON PULPIT 
 
 not mean, that God compelled our first parents 
 to eat the forbidden fruit, or now compels any of our 
 race to sin ; neither does it mean that God at all 
 interfered with the wills of our first parents, or now 
 interferes with our wills, so as to dispose us to sin 
 voluntarily against Him. There is no such agency 
 on the part of God, in the occurrence of sin, as to 
 make Him, in any sense, the author of our iniquity. 
 
 But it means, and simply means, that God, by 
 wise and holy determination, permitted, and still 
 permits man, in the exercise of his freedom of will, 
 to sin. Sin, on the part of man, is voluntary, self- 
 moved, — it has its source in himself, and God sees 
 fit to withhold restraining grace. The Creator 
 "made man upright," and man, not God, "has 
 sought out wicked inventions." 
 
 This view of sin, as to the manner of its occur- 
 rence, may be apprehended more distinctly by con- 
 sidering the language of Jehovah on one occasion, 
 in regard to the rebellious Israelites — " Ephraim is 
 joined to his idols ; let him alone." Let liim alone. 
 It is not necessary to the occurrence of sin, that 
 God should interfere by any direct agency, — it is 
 enough that He lets man alone^ and the unrestrained 
 human heart spontaneously manifests iniquity. 
 
 III. We come, then, to the third point proposed 
 for our consideration, namely, the end which God 
 accomplishes^ and which we may therefore say^ He 
 designed to accomplish^ ly the permission of sin. 
 
 When we consider, on the one hand, the infinite 
 Holiness and Benevolence of God; and on the 
 
JOnX T. DUF FIELD. 311 
 
 other, tlie turpitude of sin, and the inealculahle mi- 
 sery which it has brought upon our race, the in- 
 quiry presents itself, — Why was sin permitted ^ 
 
 The propriety of our asking this question, and 
 endeavouring to know the answer, depends entirely 
 upon the si:>irit Mdiich dictates the inquiry. If we 
 ask this, from any feeling of doubt or mistrust as to 
 the infinite holiness and goodness of God, — if we ask 
 it from a wish to know the reasons of His deal- 
 ings with us, that we may sit in judgment on them, 
 and decide whether they be sufficient, — if we ask, 
 from a want of confidence in the Kuler of the uni- 
 verse, which will not be satisfied until we understand 
 and approve of the motives of His conduct ; if such 
 be our spirit, we do in asking but sin most heinous- 
 ly against our ]\Iaker. To the caviller God giv- 
 eth not account of any of his matters. To a 
 spirit of presumptuous inquiry, His reply is only the 
 withering rebuke, " Who art thou, O ! man, that 
 repliest unto God ? Shall the thing formed say un- 
 to him that formed it, ' Why hast thou made me 
 thus V Has not the potter power over the same 
 clay to make one vessel unto honour, and another 
 to dishonour ?" 
 
 But if, on the other hand, we approach this sub- 
 ject in humble faith, fully assured that whether we 
 can always see it or not, God is righteous in all His 
 ways, and holy in all His works, — if we come, be- 
 lieving that whatever darkness and clouds are 
 round about Him, righteousness and judgment are 
 still the habitation of His throne, — if we come to 
 
312 THE PEINCETON PULPIT. 
 
 this subject, prepared to trust God in regard to 
 whatever of Himself He has not yet revealed, or 
 we cannot yet understand, and only desire to knoM' 
 and understand so far as He has seen fit to reveal 
 Himself ; and are moved to this, too, not by mere 
 carnal curiosity, but that we may be led thereby to 
 love and adore Him the more, — if we humbly seek 
 an answer to the question proposed in such a spi- 
 rit, we are in so doing not only innocently engaged, 
 but are fulfilling a solemn and responsible duty, — 
 a duty imposed upon us by every intellectual and 
 moral faculty He has given us, and by every reve- 
 lation He has made of Himself, in His works and 
 in His word. The highest and most appropriate 
 exercise of our powers is in seeking after, and at- 
 taining unto, more distinct and enlarged views 
 of the being, and attributes, and works, and word 
 of the great God that made us. " This is eternal 
 life" — the very life of an immortal spirit — " to hioiv 
 Tliee^ the only true and living God, and Jesus Christ 
 whom Thou hast sent." "Let not the wise man 
 glory in his wisdom," says Jeremiah, " let not the 
 mighty man glory in his might — ^let not the rich 
 man glory in his riches; but let him that glorieth 
 glory in this, that he understandeth and knoweth 
 me : saith the Lord." 
 
 Wilful ignorance, or indifterence, in regard to 
 what God lias revealed of Himself, is no less crimi- 
 nal than is presumptuous inquiry, into those secret 
 things which it is not yet given us to know. 
 
 We may, therefore — if our spiiit be one of hum- 
 
JOUN T. DUFF I ELD. 313 
 
 ble docility and faith — if our desire Ibe to " increase 
 in tlie knowledge of God," that our love for Him, 
 and adoration, may thereby be increased, — we may, 
 or rather we 'sJiouhJ^ in such a frame, and with such 
 motives, seek to know what God has revealed in 
 regard to the end He would accomplish, by the 
 permission of the fall and sinfulness of our race^ 
 
 As preparatory to an answer of this inquiry, we 
 remark, that God was imder no obligation to jpre- 
 vent sin. The Creator was not hound in justice to 
 restrain His responsible creatures from sinning 
 against Himself, and exposing themselves to an ade- 
 quate punishment. Having created them holy, and 
 having given them a law which was holy, just, and 
 good, it was their duty to obey. And when, self- 
 moved, they would violate that law, and bring up- 
 on themselves its penalty, His relation to them im- 
 posed on Him no obligation to compel their obe- 
 dience. To deny this, is simply to deny God's 
 right of moral government over His intelligent 
 creatures. It would be an absurdity to give com- 
 mands, with promises and threatenings annexed, if 
 the law-giver were himself obliged to accomplish 
 the performance of all that was required. We re- 
 peat, therefore, that God was tinder no obligation 
 — He was not bound injustice to prevent sin. 
 
 This truth, whilst of course, it does not answer 
 the question under consideration, is of importance 
 in this connection, as preparing the mind to re- 
 ceive the answer. 
 
 To return to the particular inquiry proposed — 
 though God had, as we have seen, the right, in 
 21 
 
314 THE PEIlSrCETON PTJLPIT. 
 
 justice, to permit, yet wliat are we to regard as His 
 design in permitting, the sin of the human race ? 
 
 To obtain an intelligent answer to this question, 
 we should first ask the more general question— 
 what is the design or ultimate end of all God's 
 works of creation and providence ? 
 
 By our very idea of God, as the self-existent, the 
 Infinite, the Eternal, as well as by the teachings of 
 Scripture, we are led to the conclusion that the 
 main design, the ultimate end, the final cause of 
 His creative and providential acts, all and singular, 
 has not reference to anything in the creature, but 
 to Himself, the Creator. Not only is it true that, 
 " by Him were all things created, that are in 
 heaven and that are in earth, visible and invisible, 
 whether they be thrones or dominions or principal- 
 ities or powers," not only by Him but '■'■for Him, 
 were they all created." Col. i. 16. Or as it is 
 declared in the song of the heavenly host — " Thou 
 hast created all things, and for Thy pleasure they 
 are and were created." Rev. iv. 11. God is not 
 only the source, and the means, but the eiul of all 
 His works. " Of Him, and through Him, and to 
 Him," says St. Paul, " are all things, to whom be 
 glory for ever." Rom. xi. 36. 
 
 And when we further ask, what end in reference 
 to Himself^ God would accomplish, by His various 
 works and dispensations, we unhesitatingly answer, 
 the promotion of His own glory. " All Thy works 
 shall, and do praise Thee, O Lord." Ps. cxlv. 10. 
 The glory of God^ is the great end of all His works 
 of creation and providence. 
 
JOirif T. DUFFIELD. 315 
 
 But what is precisely meant, wlien it is said, 
 tliat all God's works are designed to promote His 
 glory ? Is it meant that these things, or anything, 
 either did or could, add to the essential glory of 
 the Most High ? Can it mean that the greatness 
 or the excellence of the Deity, is thereby enhanced ? 
 No, God was no less the infinitely glorious God, 
 before ever time was, — before the foundation of the 
 earth or heavens were laid — before aus^ht of the 
 vast universe had existence — when, as yet, the 
 Godhead dwells alone, rejoicing in the ineffable 
 bliss of their own divine communion. Just as the 
 sun, which courses in such majesty the heavens, 
 would be the self-same glorious object, though no 
 eye had been created to behold its splendour — so, 
 God would have been the self-same glorious God, 
 though no " morning star" had been brought into 
 being, to sing His praises — though no one of the 
 " sons of God" had ever been created, to glorify 
 Him, with shouts of joy. 
 
 When, therefore, it is said, that the works of 
 creation and providence were all designed to j)ro- 
 mote tlte glory of God, reference is had, not to His 
 essential or intrinsic glory, but t'O His declarative, 
 or manifested glory. His works and dispensations 
 were not designed to add to, but to manifest, the 
 already existing, infinite excellence and majesty of 
 His adorable being, and attributes. 
 
 When in eternity God dwelt alone, in infinite 
 wisdom and love. He determined to make a mani- 
 festation of Himself — to show forth His glory. 
 And how would He effect this purpose ? By briiig- 
 
316 THE PKINCETON PULPIT. 
 
 ing into being, creatures endowed with faculties 
 whereby they might, in some measure, apj^rehend 
 His glory ; and then making to them revelations and 
 exhibitions of His being, and character, and attri- 
 butes ; — such exhibitions and revelations as would 
 afford them some true knowledge of Himself, and 
 lead them, in the fullness of gratitude and of joy, 
 to love and serve, and glorify Him for ever. Hie 
 glory of God^ as it consists in the manifestation of 
 Himself^ is the great design, the ultimate end, the 
 final cause of all His creative acts and providential 
 dispensations. His works and words and ways are 
 all but different exhibitions of some one or other 
 of the glorious attributes of His character — different 
 manifestations of His being, or wisdom, or power, 
 or holiness, or justice, or goodness, or truth. They 
 are designed to lead His intelligent creatures who 
 behold them, to a clearer and more comprehensive 
 ! view of Himself and His adorable perfections, to 
 the end, that they may be filled thereby, with 
 J ever new and constantly increasing, joy and love, 
 and adoration. It is in this light that we should 
 ever view the wonders of His works — it is with 
 this key alone that we may endeavour to unlock 
 the mysteries of His providence. 
 
 Wlien we come then to the particular question 
 under consideration — the design of God in the per- 
 mission of the sinfulness of man, we are to look for 
 the solution, in the reply to the more easily answered 
 question, — the manifestation of what attribute of 
 God is peculiar to His dispensations towards the 
 human race ? What phase of His all glorious per- 
 
JOHN T . D U F F I E L D . 317 
 
 fection, is here most fully, and yet, elsewhere not 
 at all (we have reason to believe,) displayed ? 
 
 AVe answer from the whole history of those 
 dealings, as well as from the declaration of such 
 scrij^tures, as the text — His mercy ; and by this we 
 distinctly meai;. His favour toward the (juilty — His 
 love toward sinners. Other divine attri])utes are 
 of course exhibited, and that most glorionsly, in 
 God's dispensations toward our race, ]>nt they ap- 
 pear as incidental to the manifestation of His mercy. 
 This darling attribnte is here "pecidiar-l]! displayed. 
 He " concluded all in unbelief that He might have 
 mercy upon all." He permitted man to fall, but 
 He has manifested the wonders of His love toward 
 the fallen. He did not restrain our race from sin, 
 as, we should bear in mind He was under no obli- 
 gation to do, but when we had become thus " dead 
 in trespasses and sins," " by nature, children of 
 wrath," because He was "rich in mercy., for His 
 great love wherewith He loved us," He quickens 
 us from our death of sin, into newness of spiritual 
 life^ and all this, to the end, as we are told by in- 
 spiration, " that in the ages to come. He miglit shew 
 the exceeding riches of His grace in His kindness 
 toward us, through Christ Jesus." Eph. ii. 1 — 7. 
 
 Until the fall of man, there doubtless, had never 
 been a manifestation of the divine attribute of 
 mercy. We have no reason to believe that His 
 creatures as yet knew, that " the Lord was gracious, 
 and full of compassion," even for the guilty. Angels 
 had sinned and without mercy th.ey were visited 
 with wrath and destruction. It was not until 
 
318 THE PEINCETON PULPIT. 
 
 man, too, had fallen, ttiat this previously unseen 
 attribute was destroyed. And then, how glorious- 
 ly — not merely mercy, but mercy truly Godlike 
 — not simply grace, but " riches of grace un- 
 searchable," — not only love, but infinite " love, 
 the length and breadth and depth and height 
 of which, passeth knowledge," — a love which 
 not only delivers from a merited punishment, 
 but raises up to glory — a strange affection, which 
 has vile sinners for its objects, and not only 
 snatches them from out the very jaws of death and 
 hell eternal, but washes them from all defilement, 
 and making them partakers of the divine nature," 
 — exalts them to high seats " in heavenly places" 
 with incarnate Deity. Yes, here was exhibited, a 
 new, a most glorious, and yet probably a previous- 
 ly unimagined attribute of Jehovah's character. 
 
 '• Never did angels taste, above, 
 Redeeming grace and dying love." 
 
 Other divine attributes had long previously been 
 manifested, and had excited the adoration of the 
 unMlen heavenly host. They had seen the heavens 
 declaring the glory of their Maker, and the firma- 
 ment showing forth His handiwork. The existing 
 universe was to them a record of their Creator's 
 wisdom, power and skill, and they had been taught 
 thereby, the anthem of Blessing, and honour, and 
 glory, and power, to Him who had created all 
 things, and for whose pleasure they are and were 
 created. 
 
 And again, in all the faculties of their being, 
 
JOUN T. DUF FIELD. 319 
 
 and ill the abundant provision made for tlieir right 
 exercise, affording an existence of uninterrupted and 
 uniningled happiness, the angelic hosts had a con- 
 stant manifestation, or rather, an experience of Je- 
 hovah's goodness — His benevolence — that attribute 
 which moves Him to promote the happiness of his 
 creatures. They had tasted and seen that "the 
 Lord was good. 
 
 And further, in the holy character of all their 
 joys, in the very constitution of their natures, and 
 in that law of their Creator, to which they all 
 were subject, they had full exhibition of God's at- 
 tribute of holiness, and they ceased not, day nor 
 night, to shout one to another, " Holy, holy, holy, 
 is our Lord God Almighty." 
 
 And once more, when rebellion had entered the 
 ranks of the heavenly host, and Satan seduced 
 many to foul revolt against the majesty of heaven, 
 and Jehovah, in just judgment, cast the rebels from 
 his presence down to hell — reserved there in chains 
 and darkness unto the judgment of the great day, 
 the unfallen angels saw an exhibition of God's at- 
 tribute of justice, and of his truth immutable, and 
 they doubtless sung, as John in vision heard them 
 sing, when the vials of wrath were poured out, 
 upon the finally impenitent of men, " Thou art 
 righteous, O Lord, because thou hast thus judged, 
 for they are worthy — even so. Lord God Almighty, 
 true and righteous are thy judgments." 
 
 Before the fall of man, therefore, the intelligent 
 creation had seen full manifestations of God's being, 
 and wisdom, and power, and goodness, and holiness, 
 
320 THE PEINCETON PULPIT. 
 
 and justice and triifh. But as yet, tliey liad not 
 seen an exliibition of God's grace and mercy. They 
 tad known, indeed, His love, but not His love to- 
 ward sinners. "When, therefore, in the garden, our 
 first parents plucked and ate the fruit forbidden, 
 what strange surprise must have filled the angelic 
 host, at God's delay to thrust down sinful man to 
 an abode with guilty devils in the pit ! With 
 what wonder would they hear their holy Sovereign, 
 as he drove the sinning pair forth from the garden, 
 announce to them the promise, that the woman's 
 seed should bruise the serpent's head ! And when 
 our fallen parents, ventured from time to time, to 
 draw nigh to God in worship, and the heavenly 
 host beheld that they were not repulsed — when 
 they saw them bringing offerings to the Lord, to 
 which He " had respect," how would their hearts 
 begin to throb with a new joy, as they beheld in 
 this the o^limmerinc's of a manifestation of a new 
 and glorious — a previously unseen attribute of their 
 adorable Jehovah ! And when righteous Abel was 
 stricken, first of human kind, by the hand of death, 
 and his disembodied spirit recreated in God's image, 
 appeared among the unfallen worshippers of the up- 
 per sanctuary, cleansed from all the defilement of 
 his sins, spotless as the holy host around him, re- 
 joicing with them in the pure and perfect joys of 
 their heavenly dwelling-place, with what a thrill 
 of gladness would they welcome him to their blessed 
 communion, and with T^hat swelling bursts of a new 
 praise would they adore the wonderful love of 
 their divine Creator ! With what ready zeal would 
 
JOHN- T. DUFFIELD. 621 
 
 tliey uow go fortli on the strange mission of minis- 
 tering to sinful, vile children of the dust, yet still, 
 hy wondrous love of God, the heirs of heaven and 
 glory ! How cheerfully, and with swift wing, would 
 they fly at God's command, to take charge of the 
 chosen ones, to bear them up in their angelic hands, 
 to guard with tender care, the pathway of their 
 earthly pilgrimage, to be with them and sustain 
 them in the hour of death, and after death, to re- 
 ceive them into fond embrace, and convey them to 
 the blessed everlasting mansions ! And with what 
 interest would the angels watch all the operations 
 of this gracious love of God — how would they 
 study its successive developments and "desire to 
 look into" the mysteries of the wondrous plan, in 
 which they kne^, though as yet they knew not 
 how, " mercy and truth did meet together — right- 
 eousness and peace did kiss each other !" And 
 when, in the fullness of time, they beheld Him, 
 whom they had ever worshipped as their God and 
 Creator — co-equal with the Father, and the very 
 " brightness of His glory" — leaving His high seat 
 upon the throne, veiling, as it were. His majesty di- 
 vine, descending to earth, and taking upon Him- 
 self the humble nature of humanity, and that too, 
 in its humblest form — a feeble babe, in Bethlehem's 
 stable manger — when they beheld the amazing 
 sight of Deity incarnate, and saw that in that hu- 
 miliation, the mercy and the justice, the grace and 
 yet the holiness of God, were all to be harmoni- 
 ously and most gloriously displayed — overwhelmed 
 with wonder no longer, merely at the love of God, 
 
322 THE PKIlSrCETON PULriT. 
 
 but at tlie infiuitude of that love, and at tlie infinite 
 wisdom displayed in the plan for a sinner's salva- 
 tion — from heaven to earth, and back again to 
 heaven, with joyful lips they shout, " Glory to God 
 in the Highest, peace on earth, good will toward 
 men — glory to God in the Highest !" And when 
 the dispensations of this wondrous plan of grace 
 shall have been completed, when the chosen of the 
 Lord shall all have been iugathered, and ten thou- 
 sand times ten thousand, and thousand of thou- 
 sands, redeemed from among the children of men 
 shall ajipear in the presence of God's heavenly 
 glory, with their robes of white, and their harps of 
 gold, and their palms of victory, and their crowns 
 of everlasting life — when Jesus shall present before 
 the throne. His blood-bought church complete, then 
 shall all heaven's hosts unite, around the throne, in 
 new strains of loftiest adoration — then shall the 
 apocalyptic ascription of highes^ glory to Jehovah 
 be fulfilled : " I, John, heard a great voice of much 
 people in heaven, saying, Alleluia; salvation and 
 honour, and power, unto the Lord our God ; and 
 again they said Alleluia ; and the four and twenty 
 elders and four beasts fell down and worshipped 
 God, that sat on the throne, saying. Amen, 
 Alleluia ; and a voice came out of the throne, say- 
 ing. Praise our God, all ye his servants: and I 
 heard, as it were, the voice of a great multitude, and 
 the voice of many waters, and as the voice of mighty 
 thunderings, saying. Alleluia, for the Lord God 
 omnipotent reigneth, let us be glad and rejoice, and 
 
JOHN T. DUFFIELD. 323 
 
 give liononr to Him, for tlie marriage of the Lamh 
 is comey Rev. xix. 1 — 7. 
 
 In view of these results, wliicli God accomj^lislies 
 for His glory, can we doubt as to tlie main design, 
 the ultimate end, the final cause of His dispensa- 
 tions towards the human race, including, as these 
 dispensations do, the permission of our sin. 
 
 In conclusion, it remains but to ask, what effect 
 should be produced in us by the important truths 
 we have been considering. We answer : 
 
 JFirsi. This subject should produce in us as it did 
 in the Apostle, (as seen from the context,) more 
 profound views of the ahsolute sovereignty of God. 
 He is Himself, the source, the means, and the end 
 of all His works. He is " the Alpha and the Omega, 
 the beginning and the ending, the first and the 
 last" — ever accomplishing His own wise and holy 
 purposes among " the armies of heaven and the in- 
 habitants of earth." The highest and holiest of His 
 creatures have neither merit nor power before 
 Him. All are less than vanity, and as nothing, be- 
 fore God. " For who hath first given to Him, that 
 it should be recompensed to him again ? For of 
 Him, and to Him, and through Him, are all things, 
 to whom 1)6 glory for ever." Rom. xi. 35, 36. 
 
 Secondly. These truths should lead us as they did 
 the Apostle, (as seen from the context,) to adore 
 the infhiite wisdom and hnowledge of God^ as dis- 
 played in His dealings with our race. We should 
 be ready to exclaim with Paul, " Oh, the depth of 
 the riches, both of the wisdom and knowledge of 
 God." AU comprehending knowledge, which em- 
 
324 THE PEINCETON PULPIT. 
 
 braced tlie countless thousands of our race, wliicli 
 took in all the necessities and circumstances of 
 their being, whicli surveyed all the means requi- 
 site to the accomj^lishment of the divine purpose, 
 and all the results of those means from the begin- 
 ning to the end. Infinite wisdom, too, in selecting 
 and adaj)ting the means to the object in view, in 
 the ordering of every part, as well as the whole of 
 the entire scheme of human destiny, so that our 
 highest happiness, and the glory of our Creator, 
 may thereby ever be abundantly promoted. We 
 see displayed herein not merely Almighty power 
 triumphing over sin, and death, and hell, but 
 wisdom infinite, 
 
 " Building on sin's demolished throne, 
 A temple to God's praise. 
 
 From broken, scattered fragments, gathered out 
 of the very ruins of the fall, Jehovah has reared a 
 monument, which everlastingly shall stand to the 
 praise of His glorious grace, and throughout all 
 coming ages, shall display " to the principalities 
 and powers in heavenly places, the manifold wis- 
 dom of God." Eph. iii. 10. 
 
 Tliirdly. The truths we have been considering 
 should fill our hearts with grateful love to the 
 Father of mercies and the God of all grace. What 
 reason have we for thankfulness, in being permitted 
 to experience that " the Lord is gracious and full of 
 compassion !" For bear in mind, that every bless- 
 ing we enjoy, every good thing that cometh down 
 to us from the Father of Lights, all the unsearch- 
 
JO 11?^ T. DUF FIELD. 825 
 
 able riches of Christ, are blessings undeserved, gifts 
 to which we not only have no claim, but the very 
 reverse of which is our desert. God was under no 
 obligation to provide a ransom for us, and in Ilim 
 manifest to us His unbounded love. The hopeless 
 state of devils in the pit, may teach us that all the 
 favours, we sinners of mankind enjoy, are the gifts 
 of God's rich, free, sovereign, and distinguishing 
 grace. 
 
 And how should we feel His claims upon our 
 gratitude and love rise to a still greater height, 
 when we consider, that not only are we made the 
 direct objects of the Divine mercy, but He has 
 made us the honoured instruments of for ever 
 showing forth " the exceeding riches of His grace," 
 to all the intelligent creation. Not only are Chris- 
 tians now "the lights of this world"— they are 
 henceforth evermore to be, as it were, among the 
 very lights of heaven. Not only are they now 
 epistles of God's grace, "known and read of men" 
 —angelic eyes shall ever gaze upon them with in- 
 terest and delight, and behold in their exaltation, 
 the infinite wisdom and power, the holiness and 
 justice, the goodness and truth, and the wonder- 
 fully merciful love of God. 
 
 And lastly, these truths should lead each one, 
 personally, to seek with all earnestness and diligence, 
 to have these blessed purposes of mercy fulfilled 
 in his own experience. We have seen the great end 
 which God would accomplish in all His dealings 
 with our race, we are able to understand why He 
 he has brought us into being and ordered, as he 
 
326 THE PRINCETON PULPIT. 
 
 lias, all His dispensations towards us, to manifest 
 His mercy in bestowing npon us everlasting happi- 
 ness and glory. "We have clearly set before us, 
 therefore, what the Lord would hare us to do — 
 accept, at once, this " great salvation," so dearly 
 purchased, so freely offered ; receive, with our whole 
 heart, the Lord Jesus, as our Saviour and our King, 
 and enjoy in Him, now and for evermore, Jehovah's 
 gracious and unbounded favour. 
 
 We may, indeed, refuse these precious mercies. 
 AYe may, notwithstanding all, " neglect this great 
 salvation." And what then? Shall we thereby 
 rob God of his glory ? No — God will glorify Him- 
 self, not only in them that are saved, but also in 
 them that perish. If we refuse to glorify Him in 
 our salvation. He will glorify Himself in our de- 
 struction. If we refuse to be the monuments of 
 His mercy in the realms of heavenly light, we shall 
 then become the monuments of His Almighty 
 wrath in the pit of darkness, and with devils 
 damned, through all eternity, display the holy jus- 
 tice of our Sovereign God. "Seek ye the Lord, 
 then, whilst He may be found — call ye upon Him 
 whilst He is near." " Oh ! taste and see that the 
 Lord is good — that blessed are they who put their 
 trust in Him." 
 
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