.K ■^: i.A Jill OliCGIGi^IiJ BX 9178 .S45 S42 Shedd, William Greenough Thayer, 1820-1894. i Sermons to the spiritual man^ BY THE SAME AUTHOR. A History of Christian Doctrine. Two vols., crown 8vo. Seventh Edition. Cloth, Homeletics and Pastoral Theology. One Vol., crown 8vo. Seventh Edition. Cloth, Literary Essays (with Portrait). One vol., crown 8vo. Kevised Edition. Cloth, Theological Essays. One vol., crown 8vo. Kevised Edition. Cloth, Commentary on Romans. One vol., crown Svo. Cloth, Sermons to the Natural Man. One vol., crown 8vo. Third Edition. Cloth, Sermons to the Spiritual Man. One vol., crown Svo. Cloth, Sent post-paid, on receipt of price, by the Publishers, CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS, 743 & 745 Broadway, New York. , $5.00 2.50 2.50 8.00 2.50 . 2.50 Eight Volumes, uniform binding, in a box, Price, per set, $i8.oo. SERMONS SPIRITUAL MAN. BT WILLIAM G. T. SHEDD, D.D., K003EVELT PROFESSOR OF SYSTEMATIC THEOLOGY IN UNION THEOLOGICAX SEMINARY, NEW YORK. NEW YORK : CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS. 1884. Copyright, 18S4, by WILLIAM a. T. SHEDD. TROWS PniNTINQ AND BOOKBINOINQ COMPANY, NEW YORK. PREFATOEY NOTE. This volume is complementary to another, published in 1871, under the title of " Sermons to the Natural Man." In the earlier volume, the author aimed to address the human conscience. In this, he would speak to the Christian heart. The former supposed original and unpardoned sin, and en- deavored to produce the consciousness of it. The latter supposes forgiven and indwelling sin, and would aid in the struggle and victory over it. The writer has had evidence, both from this country and from abroad, that theological sermonizing and the close application of truth are not so unwelcome and unpopular, as they are sometimes represented to be. This encourages him to hope that the present volume, which takes a wider range, and brings to view the experi- ences and aspirations of the regenerate believer, may find a yet larger class of sympathetic readers. At the same time, the author is well aware that both volumes are out of all keeping with some existing tendencies in the religious world. But these tendencies are destined to disappear, whenever the blind guides shall cease to lead the blind, and honest self-knowledge shall take the place of self-flattery and re- ligious delusion. That this will happen, is as certain as that the Holy Spirit has not forsaken the world for which God incarnate died, but will, in His own way, again search and illumine the human soul, as in " the times of refreshing from the presence of the Lord." Union THEOLooicAii Seminaky, Nkw York, April 15, 1884. ..>- CONTENTS. SERMON I. PAGE Religious Meditation 1 SERMON II. Christian Moderation 19 SERMON III. The Supreme Excellence of God 34 SERMON IV. The Fatherhood of God 50 SERMON V. The Future Vision of God 69 SERMON VI. God the Strength of Man 83 SERMON VII. The Glorification of God 95 SERMON VIII. The Duty of Reference to the Divine Will 116 SERMON IX. The Creature has no Absolute Merit 129 iv CONTENTS. SERMON X. PAGE Faith With, and Without Sight 153 SERMON XI. The Reality of Heaven 167 SERMON XII. Pure Motives the Light op the Soul 181 SERMON XIII. The Law is Light 194 SERMON XIV. The Law is the Strength of Sin 210 SERMON XV. The Sense of Sin leads to Holiness, and the Conceit of Holiness leads to Sin 225 SERMON XVI. The Impression made by Christ's Holiness 241 SERMON XVII. Christian Humility 256 SERMON XVIII. Pride vitiates Religious Knowledge 272 SERMON XIX. Connection between Faith and Works 286 SERMON XX. The Christian Imperfect, yet a Saint 302 SERMON XXI. Sanctification Completed at Death 315 CONTENTS. V SEEMON XXII. PAGE Watchfulness and Prayerfulness 329 SERMON XXIII. Unceasing Prayer 346 SERMON XXIV. The Folly op Ambition 371 SERMON XXV. Every Christian a Debtor to the Pagan 385 SERMON XXVI. The Certain Success of Evangelistic Labor 400 SERMONS SERMON I. RELIGIOUS MEDITATION. Psalm civ. 34. — " My meditation of Him shall be sweet. There is no being with whom man stands in such close and important relations as with the invisible God, and yet there is no being with whom he finds it so difficult to have communication. The earth he can see and touch. His fellow-man he can look in the eye and speak to. But " no man hath seen God at any time." Century after century passes by, and the Highest utters no voice that is audible to the outward ear. Thousands and millions of human supplications are sent up to Him who dwells in the heavens, but the heavens are not rent, no deity comes down, and no visible sign is made. The skies are silent. The impenetrable vail between man's body and God's spirit is not withdrawn even for an instant. As this continues to be the case generation after gener- ation, and century after century, it is natural that those who know of nothing but an external and visible commu- nication between themselves and their Maker should be- come sceptical concerning his actual existence. Like the 1 2 RELIGIOUS MEDITATION. pagan idolater, they demand a God who can be seen and handled. Like him, too, they hanker after prodigies and wonders, and desire to be put into palpable communica- tion with the Celestial Powers. " This generation seeketh after a sign." It is not surprising, consequently, that the natural man, finding no response to his passionate and baffled attempts to penetrate the invisible and eternal by the method of the five senses, falls into unbelief, and concludes in his heart that a deity who never shows him- self has no real being. Thus the natural tendency of all men who hold no prayerful and spiritual communication with their Maker is to atheism, so long as they live in a world where he makes no external displays of his person and his presence. A time is indeed coming, when an outward vision of God will break upon them so palpable and evident that they will call upon the rocks and mountains to cover them from it ; but until that time they are liable to a scepticism which often renders it difficult, even when they make some efforts to the contrary, to believe that there is a God. But the child of God — the believing, the spiritual, the prayerful man — is delivered from this atheism. For he knows of an intercourse with his Maker, which, though unattended by signs and wonders, by palpability and tan- gibility for the bodily senses, is as real and convincing as anything outward or visible can be. He has experienced the forgiveness of sin, and found the disquieting remorse of his soul displaced by the peace of God in his conscience, and the love of God in his heart. He has known the doubts and fears of a sick bed to give way before God's inward assurance of mercy and acceptance. He has been in a horror of great mental darkness, and into that black void of his soul God has suddenly made a precious prom- RELIGIOUS MEDITATION. 3 ise, or a comforting truth of his word, to shine out clear, distinct, and glittering, like a star shooting up into a mid- night sky. He has had love, and peace, and joy, and the whole throng of devout and spiritual affections, flow in cur- rents through his naturally hard and parched soul, at the touch of a Spirit, at the breath of a Being, not of earth or of time. And perhaps more convincing than all, he has offered up prayers and supplications, with strong crying and tears, for a strength that was not in himself but which he must get or die, for a blessing that his hungry famine- struck soul must obtain or be miserable, and has been heard in that he feared. Thus the Christian's belief in the Divine existence is a vital one. In a higher sense than that of the poet, it is " felt in the blood, and felt along the heart." It is part and particle of his consciousness, waning only as his religious experience wanes, and dying only when that deathless thing shall die. Yet there are fluctuations in the Christian's faith and sense of God. He needs to school and train himself in this reference. God himself has appointed instrumentali' ties by which to keep the knowledge of himself pure, clear, and bright in the souls of his children, " until the day break and the shadows flee away ; " and among them is the habit of devout reflection upon his being and attributes. The uses of religious meditation upon God, to which we are urged by both the precept and the example of the Psalmist, may be indicated in the three following propo- sitions : 1. Meditation upon God is a lofty and elevating act, because God is infinite in his being and perfections. 2. It is a sanctifying act, because God is holy in his nature and attributes. 3, It is a blessed act of the mind, because God is infinitely blessed, and communicates of his fulness of joy to all who contemplate it. I. In the first place, meditation upon God is a high and 4 RELIGIOUS MEDITATION. elevating mental act, because of the immensity of the Object. " Behold the heaven of heavens cannot contain thee," said the awe-struck Solomon. " God is a most pure spirit, immutable, immense," says the Creed. Reflection upon that which is infinite tends of itself to enlarge and ennoble. Meditation upon that which is immense produces a lofty mood of mind. This is true even of merely material immensity. He who often looks up into the firmament, and views the great orbs that fill it, and the great move- ments that take place in it, will come to possess a spirit akin to this material grandeur — for the astronomical spirit is a lofty one — while he who keeps his eyes upon the ground, and looks at nothing but his little plot of earth, and his own little life with its little motions, will be apt to possess a spirit grovelling like the things he lives among, and mean like the dirt he treads upon. Says the thought- ful and moral Schiller : ' " The vision of unlimited dis- tances and immeasurable heights, of the great ocean at his feet and the still greater ocean above him, draws man's spirit away from the narrow sphere of sense, and from the oppressive stricture of physical existence. A grander rule of measurement is held out to him in the simple majesty of Nature, and environed by her great forms he can no longer endure a little and narrow way of thinking. Who knows how many a bright thought and heroic resolve, which the student's chamber or the academic hall never would have originated, has been started out by this lofty struggle of the soul with the great spirit of Nature ; who knows whether it is not in part to be ascribed to a less fre- quent intercourse with the grandeur of the material world, that the mind of man in cities more readily stoops to trifles, and is crippled and weak, while the mind of the dweller ' Ueber das Erhabene. EELIGIOUS MEDITATION. 5 beneath the broad sky remains open and free as the firma- ment under which it lives." ' But if this is true of the immensity of Nature, much more is it of the immensity of God. If the sight of the heavens and the stars, of the earth and the vast seas, has a natural tendency to elevate and ennoble the human intel- lect, much more will the vision granted only to the pure in heart — the vision of the infinite Being who made all these things — exalt the soul above all the created universe. For the immensity of God is the immensity of mind. The in- finity of God is an infinity of truth, of purity, of justice, of mercy, of love, and of glory. When the human intel- lect perceives God, it beholds what the heaven of heavens does not possess and cannot contain. His grandeur and plenitude is far above that of material creation ; for he is the source and the free power whence it all came. The magnificence and beauty of the heavens and earth are the work of his fingers ; and there is nothing which the bodily sense can apprehend, by day or by night, however sublime and glorious it may be, that is not infinitely inferior to the excelling, transcending glory of God. It is one of the many injuries which sin does to man, that it degrades him. It excludes him from the uplifting vision of the Creator, and causes him to expend his mental force upon inferior objects — upon money, houses, lands, titles, and " the bubble reputation." Sin imprisons man within narrow limitations, and thus dwarfs him. And it is one of the consequences of his regeneration that he is enabled to soar again into the realm of the Infinite, and ' In a similar strain Cicero remarks: "Est animorum ingeniorumque naturale quoddam quasi pabulum consideratio contemplatioque naturae : erigimur ; elatiores fieri videmur ; humana despicimus ; cogitantesque supera atque ccelestia, haec nostra, ut exigua et minima, contemnimus." — AcademiccB QwestmieSf II., 41. 6 RELIGIOUS MEDITATION. behold unlimited perfection, and thereby regain the dignity he lost by apostasy. For it is a moral and spiritual differ- ence that marks off the hierarchies of heaven from the principalities of hell. Rational beings rise in grade and glorious dignity by virtue of their character. But this character is intimately connected with the clear, unclouded contemplation of God. It is the beatific vision that ren- ders the archangels so lofty. And it is only thi'ough a spiritual beholding of God that man can reascend to the point but little lower than the angels, and be crowned again with glory and honor. II. In the second place, meditation upon God is a sancti- fying act, because God is holy and perfect in his nature and attributes. The meditation of which the Psalmist speaks in the text is not that of the schoolman, or the poet, but of the devout, saintly, and adoring mind. That meditation upon God which is " sweeter than honey and the honey-comb" is not speculative, but practical. That which is speculative and scholastic springs from curiosity. That which is practical flows from love. This is the key to this distinction, so frequently employed in reference to the operations of the human mind. All merely speculative thinking is inquisitive, acute, and wholly destitute of affec- tion for the object. But all practical thinking is affection- ate, sympathetic, and in harmony with the object. When I meditate upon God because I love him, my reflection is practical. When I think upon God because I desire to ex- plore him, my thinking is speculative. None, therefore, but the devout and affectionate mind truly meditates upon God ; and all thought upon that Being which is put forth merely to gratify the curiosity and pride of the human understanding forms no part of the Christian habit and practice which we are recommending. Man in every age has endeavored " by searching to find out God." He has RELIGIOUS MEDITATION. 7 striven almost convulsively to fathom the abyss of the Deity, and discover the deep things of the Creator. But because it was from the love of knovrledge rather than from the love of God, his efforts have been both unprofit- able and futile. He has not sounded the abyss, neither has his heart grown humble, and gentle, and tender, and pure. His intellect has been baffled, and, what is yet worse, his nature has not been renovated. Nay, more, a weariness and a curse has come into his spirit, because he has put the comprehension of an object in the place of the object itself ; because, in his long struggle to understand God, he has not had the first thought of loving and serving him. There is, indeed, for the created mind, no true knowl- edge of the Creator but a practical and sanctifying knowl- edge. God alone knows the speculative secrets of his own being. The moral and holy perfections of the Godhead are enough, and more than enough, for man to meditate upon. " The secret things belong unto the Lord our God," said Moses to the children of Israel, " but those things which are revealed belong unto us, and to our children forever, that we may do all the words of his law." True meditation, thus proceeding from filial love and sympathy, brings the soul into intercourse and communion with its object. Devout and holy reflection upon God in- troduces man into the divine presence, in a true and solid sense of these words. Such a soul shall know God as the natural man does not, and cannot. " Judas saith unto him, not Iscariot, Lord, how is it that thou wilt manifest thyself unto us, and not unto the world? Jesus answered, and said unto him, If a man love me, he will keep my words : and my Father will love him, and we will come unto him and make our ahode with him." In the hour of spiritual and affectionate musing upon the character and 8 EELIGIOUS MEDITATION. attributes of God — and especially upon their manifestation in the Person and Work of Christ — there is a positive im- pression upon the heart, directly from God. In what other mode can we get near to the Invisible One, here upon earth, than by some mental act or process ? In what other way than by prayer and meditation can we approach God ? We cannot see him with the outward eye. We cannot touch him with the hand. We cannot draw nigh to him with a body of flesh and blood. In no way, here below, can we have intercourse with God, except " in spirit." He is a pure Spirit, and that part of us which has to do with him is the spirit within us. And in this mode of exist- ence, the only ordinary medium of communication between the divine and the human spirit is thought and prayer. God, with all the immensity of his being, and all the in- finitude of his perfections, is virtually non-existent for that man who does not meditate and who never prays. For so long as there is no medium of intercourse there is no inter- course. The power of thought and of spiritual supplication is all that God has given us in this life whereby we may ap- proach him, and be impressed by his being and attributes. Eye hath not seen him ; the ear cannot hear him. Nothing but the invisible can behold the invisible. Here upon earth, man must meet God in the depths of his soul, in the privacy of his closet, or not at all. The Christian life is so imperfect here below, that it is unsafe to set it up as a measure of what is possible under the covenant of grace. The possibilities and capacities of the Christian religion are by no means to be estimated by the stinted draughts made upon them by our unfaith- fulness and unbelief. Were we as meditative and prayer- ful as was Enoch, the seventh from Adam, we, like him, should "walk with God." This was the secret of the wonderful spirituality and unearthliness that led to his RELIGIOUS MEDITATION. 9 translation. Is there upon earth to-day any communion between man and God superior to that between the patri- archal mind and the Eternal ? Men tell us that the ancient church was ignorant, and that it cannot be expected that Seth and Enoch and David should be possessed of the vast intelligence of the nineteenth century. But show me the man among the millions of our restless and self -conceited civilization who walks with God as Enoch did, and who meditates upon that glorious Being all the day and in the night watches as David did — show me a man of such mental processes as these, and I will show you one whose shoe latchets, even in intellectual respects, the wisest of our savans is not worthy to stoop down and unloose. N^o scientific knowledge equals, either in loftiness or in depth, the immortal vision of the saint and seraphim. And were we accustomed to such heavenly contemplation and musing, the " fire would burn " in our hearts as it did in that of the Psalmist, and our souls would "pant" after God. God would be real to our feelings, instead of being a mere ab- straction for our understandings. We should be conscious of his presence with a distinctness equal to that with which we feel the morning wind, and should see his glory as clearly as we ever saw the sun at noonday. With as much certainty as we know the sky to be overhead, and under- neath the solid ground, should we be certain that " God is, and is the rewarder of them that' diligently seek him." There would be contact. " I want," said Kiebuhr, wearied with seeking and not finding, " I want a God who is heart to my heart, spirit to my spirit, life to my life." Such is God to every soul that loves him, and meditates because it loves. True meditation, then, being practical, and thereby bring- ing the subject of it into communion with the object of it, is of necessity sanctifying. For the object is Infinite 10 RELIGIOUS MEDITATION. Holiness and Purity. It is he in whom is centred and gathered and crowded all possible perfections. And can our minds muse upon such a Being and not become purer and better ? Can we actually and affectionately commune with the most perfect and high God in the heavens and not become sanctified ? The spirit of a man takes its character from the themes of its meditation. He who thinks much upon wealth becomes avaricious ; he whose thoughts are upon earthly glory becomes ambitious ; and he whose thoughts are upon God becomes godlike. Ill, In the third place, meditation upon God is a hlessed act of the mind, because God himself is an infinitely blessed being, and communicates of his fulness of joy to all who contemplate it. Mere thinking, in and of itself, is not sufficient to secure happiness. Everything depends upon the quality of the thought, and this again upon the nature of the object upon which it is expended. There are various kinds and degrees of mental enjoyment, each produced by a particular species of mental reflection ; but there is no thinking that gives rest and satisfaction and joy to the soul, but thinking upon the glorious and blessed God. All other thought ultimately baffles and tires us. Heaven comes into the human mind not through poetry, or philosophy, or science, or art — not through any secular knowledge — but through religion. "When a man thinks of his wealth, his houses, his friends, or his country, though he derives a sort of pleasure from so doing, yet it is not of such a grave and solid species as to justify its being de- nominated " bliss." No thought that is expended upon the creature, or upon any of the creaturely relations, can possibly produce that " sober certainty of waking bliss " which constitutes heaven. If it can, why is not man a blessed spirit here on earth ? If it can, why is it that man in all his movements and strivings never reaches a final RELIGIOUS MEDITATION. 11 centre, at which he is willing to say to his soul : " This is enough ; this is all ; here stand and remain forever ? " Man is constantly thinking upon the things of earth, and if they have the power to awaken calm and contented thought, and to induce a permanent and perfect joy, why is he so restless and unhappy ? And why does he become the more wearied and soured, the more intensely he thinks and toils ? But there is higher and nobler thought than that of trade and politics. Man can meditate upon purely in- tellectual themes. He can expend intense reflection upon the mysteries and problems of his own mind, and of the Eternal Mind. He can put forth an earnest and graceful effort of his powers within the province of beautiful letters and fine art. But does even such an intellectual, and, so far as it goes, such an elevating meditation as this produce and preserve genuine tranquillity and enjoyment ? Are poet and philosopher synonymous with saint and angel ? Is the learned man necessarily a happy one ? Look through the history of literary men, and see their anxious but baffled research, their eager but fruitless inquiry, their acute but empty speculation, their intense but vain study, and you will know that the wise man spake true when he said, "He that increaseth knowledge increaseth sorrow." Hear the sigh of the meditative Wordsworth : "Me this unchartered freedom tires ; I feel the weight of chance desires ; My hopes no more must change their name, I long for a repose that ever is the same." No, all thought which does not ultimately come home to God in practical, filial, and sympathetic communion, is incapable of rendering the soul blest. The intellect may find a kind of pleasure in satisfying its inquisitive and 12 RELIGIOUS MEDITATION. proud desire " to be as gods, knowing good and evil," but the heart experiences no peace or rest, until by a devout and religious meditation it enters into the fulness of God and shares in his eternal joy. And here again, as in the former instance, our personal experience is so limited and meagre that the language of Scripture, and of some saints on earth, seems exaggerated and rhetorical. Says the sober and sincere apostle Paul — a man too much in earnest, and too well acquainted with the subject, to overdraw and overpaint — " 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." There is a strange unearthly joy, when a pure and spiritual mind is granted a clear view of the divine perfections. It rejoices with a joy imspeakable and full of glorying. All finite beauty, all created glory, is but a shadow in comparison. The holy mind rapt in contemplation says with Augustine : " When I love God, I do not love the beauty of material bodies, nor the fair harmony of time, nor the brightness of the light so glad- some to our eyes, nor sweet melodies of varied songs, nor the fragrant smell of flowers and perfumes and spices ; not manna nor honey. None of these do I love, when I love my God. And yet I love a kind of melody, a kind of fragrance, and a kind of food, when I love my God — the, light, the melody, the fragrance, and the food of the inner man : when there shineth into my soul what space cannot contain, and there soundeth what time beareth not away, and there smelleth what breathing disperseth not, and there tasteth what eating diminisheth not. This is it which I love, when I love my God." ' We find it diflScult, with our sluggish and earthly tem- ' Confessions, X., 6. RELIGIOUS MEDITATION. 13 per, to believe all this, and to sympathize with it. Yet it is simple naked truth and fact. There is a heaven, whether we reach it or not. There is a beatific vision of God, whether it ever dilate and enrapture our eyes or not. God is infinite blessedness and glory, and no good being can behold him without partaking of it. As he gazes, he is changed into the same image from glory to glory. The more clear and full his vision, the more overwhelming and boundless is the influx of heaven into him. We may know something of this here on earth. The more we meditate upon God and divine things, the happier shall we become in our own minds. There are at this moment, upon this cursed and thistle-bearing earth, some meek and gentle spirits whose life of prayer and holy communion streaks the heavens with bars of amber, and apparels everything in heavenly light. And the more this divine pleasure enters the soul, the more will it hunger and thirst after it. For this is the summum, honum / this is the absolute de- light. This never satiates. This never wearies. This joy in the vision of God has the power to freshen and in- vigorate while it runs through the fibres of the heart ; and therefore, even amidst the most ecstatic and satisfying visions of heaven, the blessed still cry : " My soul pants after thee, O God, as the hart pants after the water- brook; my heart and my flesh cries out for the living God." Never will our minds reach a state in which they will really be at rest, and never will they put forth an activity which they will be willing to have eternal, until they ac- quire the mental habits of the holy angels. In the saints' everlasting rest, there is an unintermittent contemplation and sight of God. Who of us is ready for it ? Who of us is certain that he will not turn away, when he finds that this, and this alone, is the heaven of which he has heard 14 EELIGIOUS MEDITATION. SO much. Who of us has such a holy frame and such a spiritual sympathy with God, that every deeper descent into that abyss of holiness and purity will reveal new sights of joy, and start out new feelings of wonder and love? Who of us can be happy in heaven ? For this open vision of God, this sight of him face to face, this beatific contem- plation of his perfections, is the substance of paradise, the jasper foundation of the city of God. We have thus seen that religious meditation upon God and divine things elevates, sanctifies, and blesses. But though this Christian habit produces such great and good fruits, there is probably no duty that is more neglected. We find it easier to read our Bible, than to ponder upon it ; easier to listen to preaching, than to inwardly digest it ; easier to respond to the calls of benevolence and engage in external service in the church, than to go into our closets. And is not this the secret of the faint and sickly life in our souls ? Is not this the reason why we live at a poor dying rate ? Think you that if we often entered into the presence of God and obtained a realizing view of things unseen and eternal, earthly temptation would have such a strong power over us as it does ? Think you that if we received every day a distinct and bold impression from the attributes of God, we should be so distant from him in our hearts ? Can we not trace our neglect of duty, our lukewarm feelings, and our great worldliness of heart, to our lack of the vision of God ? The success of a Christian mainly depends upon a uni- form and habitual communion witli his God and Re- deemer. No spasmodic resolutions into which he may be exasperated by the goadings of conscience can be a sub- stitute for it. If holy communion and prayer are inter- rupted, he will surely fall into sin. In this world of continual temptation and of lethargic consciences, we need RELIGIOUS MEDITATION. 16 to be awakened and awed by the serene splendor of God's holy countenance. But we cannot behold that amidst the vapors and smoke of every-day life. We must go into our closets and " shut the door, and pray to our Father who seeth in secret." Then shall we know how power to resist temptation comes from fellowship with God. Then shall we know what a sabbath that soul enjoys, which, with open eye, looks long and steadily at the Divine perfections. With what a triumphant energy, like that of the archangel trampling on the dragon, does Moses come down from the Mount into the life of conflict and trial. With what a vehement spiritual force does a holy mind resist evil, after it has just seen the contrast between evil and God. Will the eagle that has soared above the earth in the free air of the open firmament of heaven, and has gazed into the sun with an undazzled eye, endure to sink and dwell in the dark cavern of the owl and the bat ? Then will the spirit which has seen the glorious light of the divine countenance endure to descend and grovel in the darkness and shame of sin. It should, therefore, be a diligent and habitual practice with us, to meditate upon God and divine things. Time should be carefully set apart and faithfully used for this sole purpose. It is startling to consider how much of our life passes without any thought of God ; without any dis- tinct and filial recognition of his presence and his char- acter. And yet how much of it might be spent in sweet and profitable meditation. The avocations of our daily life do not require the whole of our mental energy and re- flection. If there were a disposition ; if the current of feeling and affection set in that direction; how often could the farmer commune with God in the midst of his toil, or the merchant in the very din and press of his busi- ness. How often could the artisan send his thoughts and his 16 RELIGIOUS MEDITATION. ejaculations upward, and the work of his hands be none the worse for it. " What hinders," says Augustine,' " what hinders a servant of God while working with his hands, from meditating in the law of the Lord, and singing unto the name of the Lord most high ? As for divine songs, he can easily say them even while working with his hands, and like as rowers with a boat-song, so with godly melody cheer up his very toil." But the disposition is greatly lacking. If there were an all-absorbing affection for God in our hearts, and it were deep joy to see him, would not this " sweet meditation " of the Psalmist be the pleasure of life, and all other thinking the duty — a duty per- formed from the necessity that attaches to this imperfect mode of existence, rather than from any keen relish for it ? If the vision of God were glorious and ravishing to our minds, should we not find them often indulging themselves in the sight, and would not a return to the things of earth be reluctant ? Would not thought upon God steal through and suffuse all our other thinking, as sunset does the evening sky, giving a pure and saintly hue to all our feelings, and pervading our entire experience ? So it works in other provinces. The poet Burns was so deeply absorbed in the visions, aspirations, and emotions of poetry, that the avocations of the farmer engrossed but little of his mind, and it has been said of him, that " though his hand was on the plough his heart was with the muse." Were the Christian as much ab- sorbed in the visions, aspirations, and emotions of re- ligion, it would be said of him, too : " His hand is on the plough, but his heart is with his God ; his head is in his worldly business, but his heart is with his God." Finally, let us be urged up to the practice of this duty ' De Opere Monacliorum, XVIL RELIGIOUS MEDITATION. 17 by a consideration which has most force, it is true, for un- renewed men who know nothing of the Christian expe- rience, but which still has much strength for us if we consider our remaining sin and the slender amount of our intercourse with God. We still find it too difficult to delight in God. It is still not so easy and pleasant as it ought to be to walk with God. Notwithstanding our vocation and our expectation, it is still too difficult for us to be happy in heaven. It is in this reference that the subject we have been considering speaks with great emphasis. Let us remember that a foundation for heaven in our own minds is requisite in order to the enjoyment of the heaven that is on high.' That rational being who does not practise the meditations and enjoy the experiences of heaven, will not be at home there, and, therefore, will not go there. Every being goes to " his own place." Is it supposable that a soul that never here on earth con- templated the Divine character with pleasure, will see that character in eternity, in peace, and joy ? Is it sup- posable that a human spirit tilled with self-seeking and worldliness, and wholly destitute of devout and adoring meditations, will be taken among seraphim and cherubim when taken out of time ? Is that world of holy con- templation the proper place for a carnal mind filled through and through with only earthly and selfish thoughts ? Can the sensual Dives be happy in the bosom of Abraham ? God is not mocked, neither can a man cheat and impose upon his own soul when in eternity. Every one will then be brought to his individuality. He will know then, if not ' " A human being, " says Channing, ' ' who has lived without God, and without self-improvement, can no more enjoy heaven than a moulder- ing body lifted from the tomb and placed amidst beautiful prospects, can enjoy the light through its decayed eyes, or feel the balmy air which blows away its dust." — Sermon on Immortality. 18 EELIGIOUS MEDITATION. before, what he does really love and what he does really loathe. And if in that other world there be only a pre-" tended and hollow affection for God, with what a sigli and long-drawn moan will the wretched being fling down the harp with which he vainly tries to sing the heavenly song. For whatsoever a man thinks of with most relish here in time, he shall think of with most relish in eternity. He who loves to think of wealth, and fame, and sensual pleasure, and loathes to think of God, and Christ, and heavenly objects, shall think of wealth, and fame, and sensual pleasure in eternity, where all such thinking is " the worm that dieth not, and the fire that is not quenched," But he who, in any degree, loves to think of God and Christ, and abhors to think of sin in all its forms, shall think of God and Christ in eternity — where all such thought is music, and peace, and rest. The destination of every man in another world may be inferred and known from the general tenor of his thoughts in this. He who does not love to think upon a particular class of subjects here will not love to think upon them there. The mere passage from time to eternity can no more alter a man's likes or dislilies in this respect than the passage of the Atlantic can alter them. And that rational spirit, be it human, angelic, or arch-angelic, which iu eternity cannot take positive delight in contemplating God, but recoils from all such contemplation, is miserable and lost, though it tread the golden streets and hear the rip- pling murmurs of the river of the water of life. But if our meditation upon God is sweet here, it will be sweeter in eternity. And then our blessedness will be certain and secure ; for no spirit, human, angelic, or arch-angelic, can by any possibility be made unblest in any part of God's vast dominions, if it really finds joy in the contemplation of the ever-present God. SEEMON n. CHRISTIAN MODERATION. Pkoverbs xvi. 32. — "He that is slow to anger is better than the mighty; and he that ruleth his spirit than he that taketh a city." The book of Proverbs is the best of all manuals for the formation of a well-balanced mind. The object of Solo- mon in composing it seems to have been to furnish to the church a summary of rules and maxims by which the Christian character, having been originated by regeneration, should then be educated and made symmetrical. We do not, therefore, go to this portion of Scripture so much for full and definite statements of the distinguishing doctrines of revealed religion, as for those wise and prudential canons whereby we may reform extravagance, prune down luxuriance, and combine the whole variety of traits and qualities into a harmonious and beautiful unity. "We do not find in this part of the Bible careful and minute specifications of the doctrine of the trinity, of the apos- tasy of mankind, of the incarnation of the Son of God, of vicarious atonement, regeneration and justification. They are hinted at, it is true — as when the Eternal Wisdom is spoken of as being with the Lord " in the beginning of his way, before his works of old ; as one brouglit up with him, daily his delight, and rejoicing always before him." (Prov. viii. 22, 30.) Here we have the same doctrine, germin- ally, with that of the Apostle John, when he affirms that 20 CHRISTIAN MODERATION. the Eternal Word, or Keason, " in the beginning was with God, and was God." And what are such assertions, as that " there is not a just man upon earth that doeth good and sinneth not " (Eccl. vii. 20), and such questions as, " Who can saj, I have made my heart clean, 1 am pure from my sin " ? (Prov. xx. 9), but an indirect statement of the doctrine of human depravity ? Still it is not the main purpose of Solomon, in those two books of the inspired canon which go under the name of Proverbs and Ecclesiastes, to particularly enunciate the evangelical sys- tem ; but rather to set forth those principles of ethics, and religious prudence, which must always follow in the train of evangelical religion. It is reserved for other portions of the Bible — for the Gospels and the Epistles — to make the -fundamental statements, and lay the foundations of Chris- tian character ; while it remains for the wise Preacher to follow up with those teachings which serve to develop and beautify it. The book of revelation is, in this way, like the book of nature. The scientific naturalist does not claim that everything in nature is upon a dead level in re- spect to intrinsic worth and importance — that a bit of charcoal is just as valuable as a bit of diamond ; that a lily is just as high up the scale of creation as a man. But he does claim that one is as much the work of creative power as the other, and in its own sphere and place is as indis- pensable to the great sum total of creation as is the other. And so, too, the scientific theologian does not claim that everything in the Bible is upon a dead level in respect to intrinsic value — that the book of Esther is as important for purposes of regeneration and conversion as is the Epistle to the Romans — but he does claim that both alike are the product of Divine inspiration ; that both alike are a por- tion of that Word of God, that sum-total of revealed truth upon which, as a whole, the kingdom of God in the earth CHRISTIAlSr MODERATION. 21 is to be founded and built up. Had the book of Esther been lost out of the canon, it would not have been so great a detriment to the church as the loss of the Gospel of John, or of the Epistle to the Romans. If the missionary were allowed to carry only a single fragment of Scripture into a heathen population, and were compelled to make his choice between the book of Proverbs or the Gospel of St. Matthew, he would undoubtedly select the latter. Isot, however, because one is less trustworthy than the other; but because one contains more of the doctrinal material which the missionary employs in laying the foundation of the church ; because it gives more informa- tion concerning the Lord Jesus Christ and the way of sal- vation than does the other. The book of Proverbs, as we have remarked, was composed not so much for the pur- pose of originating a holy character, as of shaping and polishing it ; and for this purpose it is indispensable, and for this purpose it was inspired. And hence in mission- ary fields, as well as in the church at large, the wise max- ims and well-grounded ethics of Solomon will always follow up the evangelical truths and doctrines of the Apostle John, and the Apostle Paul. " He that is slow to anger is better than the mighty ; and he that ruleth his spirit than he that taketh a city." In this concise sententious " proverb," the wise man des- cribes and recommends a certain kind of temper which should be possessed and cherished by the people of God. We purpose, in the first place, briefly to describe this tem- per ; in the second place, to mention some of the obstacles that oppose its formation ; and in the third place, to point out the true source and root of it. The temper that is recommended in the text, to say it in a word, is Christian moderation. St. Paul urges the same thing with Solomon, when he writes to the 22 CHRISTIAN MODERATION. Pliilippians : "Let your moderation be known unto all men ; " when he writes to the Thessalonians : " Let us watch and be sober ; " and when he writes to Titus, that "the grace of God which bringeth salvation hath appeared to all men, teaching us that denying ungodliness and worldly lusts, we should live soberly, righteously, and godly in this present world." I. Li defining, in the first place, the nature of this tem- per and disposition, it is evident that a man who is " slow to anger," and who "ruleth his spirit," is characterized by sobriety and equanimity. He is never driven to extremes, in any direction. For anger is one of the most vehement of emotions, and he who can control it can control any- thing, can " take a city." Hence this particular passion is selected as the specimen. He who reins in his own impulsive wrath with such a strong and firm rein that it never gets the mastery over him, will find it no difficult task to rule and regulate the whole brood of passions which have their nest in corrupt human nature. Such a man is even-tempered, in the deepest sense. Such a man stands in just and proper relations to both worlds. He lives with contentment here upon earth, and at the same time lays up treasure in heaven. He does not drown himself in worldly lusts, like a voluptuary, and neither does he kill out all human sympathies, like an ascetic. He uses this world as not abusing it in either direction. He does not abuse the good things of this life, by an immoderate in- dulgence in them, or an immoderate desire and toil after them ; and he does not abuse the legitimate enjoyments of this existence, by a fanatical contempt and rejection of them altogether. He is not so absorbed in the things of time and sense, as to lose sight of eternal realities ; neither is he so monkishly indifferent to the interests and objects of this life, as to be either a drone or a malcontent. He CHRISTIAN MODERATION. 23 responds to all the reasonable and proper demands of domestic, social, and civil existence, while yet he never becomes so extreme in his attachment, and so enslaved to them, that it costs him murmurings and bitter pangs to be called away from these circles into the immediate presence of God. This is indeed a wonderful temper to be attained by so ill-governed, so passionate, impulsive, and unbalanced a creature as man. It is no wonder that such a well-poised and symmetrical character as this floated as an unattain- able ideal before the minds of the better pagan philoso- phers. This is the famous "temperance" which meets the scholar so continually in the writings of Plato and Aristotle — that golden mean between the extremes of passion and apathy which the philosopher strives to reach. " Quietly reflecting " — says Plato — " on the madness and ungovernable passions of the multitude, and attending to his own affairs, like a man sheltered under a wall in a storm of dust and foam borne along on the wind, by which he sees all about him overwhelmed in disorder, such an one is content to pass his life free from violence and passion, and to effect his exit hence with good hopes, cheerful and serene." ' This is his description of the moderation, the equanimity, the temperance of the philosophic mind. But in other places this thoughtful pagan confesses that this golden mean is never reached here upon earth, either by the philosopher or the common man. He compares the soul to a pair of horses — one of them erect, finely formed, with high neck, aquiline nose, white-colored, black-eyed, a lover of honor and temperance and true glory, driven without the whip, by word of command and voice only ; the other crooked, thick set, clumsily put together, with ' Republic, VI., 495. 24 CHRISTIAN MODERATION. strong neck, short throat, flat face, black color, gray-eyed, addicted to insolence and swaggering, scarcely obedient to whip and spur together.' These two opposing creatures, according to him, represent the present condition of the human soul. There are aspirations that would lead it up- ward, but there are appetites that drag it downward. The white horse would pursue the path of honor and excellence ; but the black horse draws away from the path, and plunges madly downward. And the black horse is the strongest. The appetite is too mighty for the resolution. There is an infinite aspiration, and an infinitesimal performance. Such is the mournful confession of the greatest thinker outside of the pale of revelation ; and if a Plato could dis- cover and teach to future generations the corruption and helplessness of human nature, what shall we say of those teachers under the full light of revelation, who would have us believe that there is no corruption in man but such as can be eradicated by man himself, and who would dispense with the evangelical means and methods of heal- ing and salvation. II. And this brings us to consider, in the second place, some of the obstacles that oppose the formation of such a Christian sobriety and moderation. They spring from two general sources — the sense, and the mind. They are partly physical, and partly intellectual obstacles. 1. In the first place, this Christian sobriety and modera- tion is opposed by the appetites and passions of the hody. St. Paul, speaking of man before regeneration, says, " When we were in the flesh, the motions [passions] of sins which were by the law did work in our members, to bring forth fruit unto death." It is one of the effects of apostasy, that human nature is corrupted upon the physical side of it, as » Phffidrus, XXV., 3. CHRISTIAN MODERATION". 25 well as upon the mental and moral side. " Original sin," as the Westminster creed aflSrms, " is the corruption of the tohole nature." The bodily appetites are verj different now from what they would have been, had man remained in his original and holy condition. When Adam came from the hand of the Creator, his physical nature was pure and perfect. All of his appetites and sensibilities were in just proportion, and were exactly balanced and harmonized. The original and holy Adam was no glutton, and no voluptu- ary. Every appetite of the body was even-tempered, never reaching beyond the just limits, and going as far, and only as far, as the healthy and happy condition of the organism required. Probably the brute creation approaches nearer to the original Adam, in this particular of a sound physical organization, than do his degenerate posterity. How comparatively moderate all the physical appetites are, in the low sphere of the dumb animals.' The ox and the horse, for example, having satisfied the healthy and natural cravings of hunger, demand nothing further. They never gorge themselves to a surfeit, and they seek no stimulants. The range of their appetite is narrow. A few grasses, with the pure flowing water to drink, meet all their wants. But man's physical appetites are multitu- dinous, and, what is yet worse, they are exorbitant. They are continually reaching out beyond the proper limits, and beyond what the organism requires, and bring his higher intellectual and moral nature into subjection to themselves. The history of human civilization is to a great extent the history of human luxury ; and the history of human lux- ury is the history of bodily appetites growing more and more inordinate, and growing by what they feed upon. The very civilization of which we hear so much, and ' Compare Plutarch : On Natural Affection toward one's Oflfspring. 26 CHRISTIAN MODERATION. which is so often represented as the unmixed glory of the human race, the evidence and record of its advance to- ward perfection, is in one of its aspects the record of its shame, and the evidence of its apostasy. For it brings to view the corruption of human nature upon the physical side. It reveals acquired and unnatural appetites, fed and satiated by ingenious supplies. The whole industry and energy of entire classes of laborers and artisans is employed in ministering to extreme cravings, and unhealthy wants, that could have no existence if human nature were pos- sessed of that physical sobriety and moderation which the Bible enjoins, or even of that temperance which the Greek philosopher praised and recommended. That which is true of man generally, is true of the in- dividual. There are great obstacles to that well-regu- lated temper which Solomon recommends in the text, aris- ing from flesh and sense. There is no need of entering into any detail, for every man's own consciousness will testify that every day, and every hour, " the body of this death," this "vile body," as St. Paul denominates it, stands in opposition to that calm and equable frame of soul which is " slow to anger." The corruption of nature is constantly showing itself in a rush to an extreme. The natural ap- petites, which were implanted in order to preserve the body from weakness and decay, and which in their original and pure condition were aids to virtue and holy living — these very appetences, now extreme and disordered, are strong temptations to sin, and the very worst obstacles to holiness. " How is the gold become dim ! How is the most fine gold changed ! " All that part of our being which connects us with this glorious outer world, and which was originally intended to subserve our spiritual interests, and to assist in preparing us for a final blessed destination, has by apostasy become subservient to our destruction. CHRISTIAN MODERATION. 27 The physical appetites which in their pure state, as seen in holy Adam and in the sinless humanity of our Blessed Lord, contributed directly to a well-regulated and well- governed frame of the soul, now tend directly to throw it off its equilibrium, and to fill it with restlessness and dissatisfaction — to make it a troubled sea whose waters cast up mire and dirt. 2. But again, in the second place, this Christian sobriety and moderation meets with an obstacle in man's disordered mental nature. The prophet Isaiah, in describing human sinfulness, remarks that the " whole head is sick." The apostasy of Adam has affected the nobler and liigher part of man, as well as his lower and meaner part. The dis- order that now prevails in his intellectual and moral nature opposes his most earnest endeavors to be "slow to anger," and to " rule his spirit." Consider, for instance, how lawless and ungoverned is the human imagination. This is a faculty of a high order, and by it man is capable of " thoughts that wander through eternity." But as it now exists in fallen man, it is the source of the most way- ward and perverse mental action. It fills the soul with extravagant conceits, greedy desires, unreal joys, and un- real sorrows. The believer is commanded by the Apostle Paul, to " cast down imaginations, and every high thing that exalts itself against the knowledge of God, and to bring every thought into captivity to the obedience of Christ." But he finds it one of his most difiicult tasks, because the disorder and the lawlessness are so very far within him. It is in some respects easier to control the physical appetites than to rule an inflamed and extrava- gant fancy. That youth, for example, who has stimulated his imagination by the immoderate and long-continued reading of fiction, has a harder task before him, in some particulars, than the drunkard or the debauchee. He has 28 CHRISTIAN MODERATIOIT. introduced extravagance and lawlessness into a faculty ■which in its best condition is liable to waywardness, and he discovers, when he attempts to undo his own work, that he has a life-long labor before him. How many there are, in tliis age of voracious and indiscriminate novel-reading, who will tell us that they have ruined their intellects by their folly; that they have lost the power of sober, concatenated thinking ; that they are carried along passively by the cur- rents of fanciful imaginings that surge and dash within them ; that they have no rule of tlieir own minds, and when- ever the temptation presents they are swift to wrath, and every other impulsive passion. Again, the human understanding itself — that compara- tively cool and nnimpassioned part of the human soul — opposes obstacles to Christian sobriety and moderation. A man's purely intellectual conclusions and convictions may be so one-sided and extreme as to spoil liis temper. Fa- naticism in every age furnishes examples of this. The fanatic is generally an intellectual person. He is vehement and extreme, not for the sake of a vice or a pleasure, but for the sake of an opinion or a doctrine. His ungoverned temper does not commonly spring out of sensual appetites and indulgences. On the contrary, his blood is usually cold and thin, and his life abstemious and ascetical. But his passion runs to his brain. He holds an intellectual opinion or an intellectual conviction that is but a half- truth, with a spasmodic energy ; and the consequence is, that he is swift to anger, and reckless of consequences in that direction. No large and comprehensive vision, and no moderate and well-balanced temper, is possible when passion has in this manner woiked its way into the under- standing. Every age of the world affords examples of this kind. How many individual Christians, and how many individual churches, have lost their Christian sobriety and CHEISTIAN MODERATIOIT. 29 their charitable moderation, because they have "leaned to their own understanding," and as a consequence their understanding acquired a leaning and lost its equipoise. From these sources, then, we find obstacles issuing that oppose the formation of that temper which the Apostle Paul has in view when he says : " Let your moderation be known to all men," and which Solomon recommends when he says : " He that is slow to anger is better than the mighty, and he that ruleth his spirit than he that taketh a city." Our corrupt physical nature, and our disordered men- tal constitution, are continually drawing us aside from that true golden mean between all extremes which should ever be before the eye of a Christian, and which he must attain in order to enter the world where everything is symmetrical and harmonious, like the character of God himself. III. We are, therefore, led to inquire, in the third place, for the true source of this Christian temperance and mod- eration. Such a spirit as we have been speaking of must have its root in love. The secret of such an even temper is charity ; the " charity that suffereth long and is kind, that vaunteth not itself, is not puffed up, seeketh not her own, thinketh no evil." No man can have this large- minded, comprehensive, and unshaken equilibrium, who does not love God supremely and his neighbor as himself. We have already noticed that the wise pagan thinkers had an idea of some such well-balanced temper and spirit. They were painfully conscious of the passionateness of the human soul, and its inclination to rush into extremes — ex- tremes of physical license, and extremes of intellectual license. But they knew no method of curing the evil, and they never cured it. And there was a good reason. They could not generate holy love in their own hearts, or in the hearts of others. The human heart is carnal, and thereby at enmity with God ; it is selfish, and thereby at enmity 30 CHRISTIAN MODERATION. "with man. So long as this is the character of man, it is impossible for him to be "slow to anger" and to "rule his spirit." The physical appetite will be constantly break- ing over its proper limits, the imagination will be lawless, and the understanding proud and opinionated. But the instant the enmity ceases and the charity begins, the sel- fish passionateness and license disappear. You cannot rule your impulsive spirit, you cannot curb and control your lawless appetites, by a mere volition. You cannot bring all your mental and physical powers into equilibrium by a dead lift. The means is not adequate to the end. Kothing but the power of a new affection ; nothing but the love of God shed abroad in your heart, and the love of Christ sweetly swaying and constraining you, can per- manently and perfectly reduce all the restlessness and recklessness of your nature to order and harmony. And this can do it. There is something strangely powerful and transforming in love. It is not limited in its influence to any one part of the soul, but it penetrates and pervades the whole of it, as quicksilver penetrates the pores of gold. A conception is confined to the understanding ; a volition stops with the will ; but an affection like heavenly charity diffuses itself through the entire man. Head and heart, reason, will, and imagination, are all modified by it. The revolutionizing effect of this feeling within the sphere of human relations is well understood. When the romantic passion is awakened, it expels for the time being all others, and this period of human life takes its entire tone and color from the affection. Even the clown becomes gentle and chivalrous under its influence.' But this is vastly more true of the spiritual and heavenly love. When this springs up in the soul, all the thoughts, all the purposes, all ' See Dryden's Cymon and Iphigenia. CHEISTIAN MODERATION. 31 the passions, and all the faculties of the soul are changed by it. And particularly is its influence seen in rectifying the disorder and lawlessness of the soul. Pleavenly charity cannot be resisted. Pride melts away under its warm breath ; selfishness disappears under its glowing influence ; anger cannot stand before its gentle force. Whatever be the form of sin that offers resistance, it inevitably yields before " love unfeigned ; love out of a pure heart." " Char- ity never faileth," says the Apostle Paul. " Love con- quers all things," says the pagan Ovid. Our subject, then, teaches the necessity of the new hirth. It corroborates our Lord's declaration : " Except a man be born again, he cannot see the kingdom of God." For, how is this heavenly affection, which is to subdue and quell all the passion and wrath of human nature, to be generated ? It is " not born of blood, or of the will of the flesh, or of the will of man, but of God." There may be outward self-control, without any inward self-government. It is not enough that we do riot exhibit our anger and our passion. It must be eradicated. It is not enough that we rein in a restive spirit. The very spirit itself must become mild and gentle. It is a weary, and in the end a profitless, effort which that man puts forth, who attempts to obey such an injunction as that of Solomon in the text, without laying his foundation deep in a renovated nature. In the opening of the discourse, we alluded to the fact that the ethics of Solomon must follow after the evangelical doctrines of the Gospels and the Epistles. In like manner, the cultivation of a symmetrical and beautiful moderation of both the bodily appetites and the mental passions, in order to be successful, nmst be preceded by a change of heart. Otherwise there is nothing but the austere and ungenial attempt of a moralist to perform a repulsive task. Love — holy and 32 CHEISTIAN MODERATION. heavenly charity — must be generated, and then under its spontaneous and happy impulse it will be comparatively easy to rectify the lemaining corruption, and repress the lingering excesses and extremes of appetite and passion. When the Apostle John had become so far advanced in years, that he could no longer exhibit the fire and force of that earlier period when he was one of the sons of thunder, he caused himself to be carried into the assemblies of the Christians, and in weak and faltering accents said : " Chil- dren, love one another ; children, love one another." This tradition of the Early Church accords well with the tone and teachings of those three Epistles which were among the last utterances of the last of the apostles. Heavenly charity, after a life prolonged nearly one hundred years, had become the dominant affection of the soul. And how almost impossible it would have been to have ruffled that heavenly temper ! How easy it was for him to rule his spirit ! How slow to anger must he have become ! In the days of his early discipleship, St, John was swift to wrath, and upon one occasion sought to persuade the serene and compassionate Redeemer to command the lightnings to come down from the sky, and consume the Samaritan village that would not receive him. But in the last days of his apostleship and his pilgrimage, he had breathed in the kind and compassionate spirit of his Master, and his utterance was a very different one. That which St. John needed is needed by human nature always and everywhere. We are not better than he. There are in every man the same inordinate pas- sions, and the same need of a radical transformation. He became a changed creature, the lion was converted into the lamb, through faith in Jesus Christ — by an act of trust and confidence in the Divine Redeemer. His own words are : " Whosoever believeth that Jesus is the Christ — is lorn of CHKISTIAN MODERATION. 33 God: and whatsoever is born of God overcometh the world, and this is the victory that overcometh the world, even our faith. We know that whosoever is born of God sinneth not ; but he that is begotten of God keepeth him- self, and that wicked one toucheth him not. And we know that the Son of God is come, and hath given us an understanding, that we may know him that is true ; and we are in him that is true, even in his son Jesus Christ. This is the true God and eternal life." Here is positive affirmation and asseveration. "AVe hnowP It is the utterance of a personal experience, and an infallible in- spiration. Confide then in the Son of God. Put your eternal des- tiny into His hands. Do not look down into the dark deep well of your own helplessness and guilt for pardon and purification, but look up for these into the infinitude and grace of Him " in whom dwells all the fulness of the God head bodily." That look is faith 5 and faith is salvation. SERMON III. THE SUPREME EXCELLENCE OF GOD. Matthew xix. 16, 17. — "And behold, one came, and said unto him, Good Master, what good thing shall I do, that I may have eternal life ? And he said unto him, Why callest thou me good ? there is none good but one, that is God. " The eternal Son of God knew perfectly what was in every man who came nnto him in the days of his flesh. AVith far more accuracy and certainty than man can read the character in the expression of the eye, or in the feat- ures of the face, did the onmiscient Redeemer read the character of the very soul itself, in its inward expression and lineaments. Hence his answers to questions always had reference to the disposition and temper of the ques- tioner. "Our Saviour Christ," says Lord Bacon, "not being like man, who knows man's thoughts by his M'ords, but knowing men's thoughts immediately, he never an- swered their words, but their thoughts." Thus, when the chief priests and elders of the people came unto him as he was teaching, and asked by what authority he did so, and who gave him the authority, knowing that this question was not put from any sincere desire to learn the truth re- specting himself and his M'-orks, but from a wish to work him evil, he answered their question by asking them a ques- tion regarding the baptism of John — a question which, however they answered it, would condemn their past treat- SUPREME EXCELLEKCE. 35 ment of John, and their present refusal to acknowledge himself to be the Messiah of whom John was the fore- runner. Again, when one asked the question, "Are there few to be saved ? " our Lord, knowing that an idle curiosity had prompted it, answered by saying, " Strive to enter in at the strait gate ; for many, I say imto you, will seek to enter in, and shall not be able." So, also, in the answer of the Saviour to the young man who had come asking, "What good thing shall I do that I may have eternal life ? " refer- ence is had to the state of the young man's opinions. Our Lord knew that this youth did not look upon the person whom he was addressing as God manifest in the flesh, but as a wise human teacher in the things of the law ; and that he applied to him not as the Truth itself, and the Life it- self, but only as knowing, perhaps, some portion of infinite truth, and as being able, perhaps, to point out the way to eternal life. Hence our Lord begins his reply by inquir- ing, " "Why callest thou me good ? " Instead of first cor- recting the young man's erroneous view of the nature and character of the person to whom he was speaking, he pro- ceeds as if it were a true one. " You consider me to be a mere man ; why do you call any mere man good ? Why do you address a creature as the Holy One ? There is none good but one, that is God." By this reply the Saviour intended to bring into the light the main error of the young man — the opinion, namely, that any man is good in and of himself. He desired to awaken in him a sense of sin, so that the self-righteous youth might be delivered from his pride and self-satisfac- tion, and be led to look away from himself and his own works to God, the source and ground of all goodness ; and more particularly to that Mediator between God and man who then and there stood before him. This text, then, invites us to contemplate the jpre-emir 36 THE SUPKEME nence of the Divine excellence over that of creatures, and to draw some inferences from the fact. What, then, are the senses in which " there is none good but one, that is God?" I. In the first place, God is the only necessarily good Being. We natm-ally shrink from applying the conception of necessity to a free spirit ; but it is because we associate with it the notion of external compulsion. God is not forced to be holy by an agency outside of himself, and other than his own ; and it is not in this sense that he is necessarily good. But there is a necessity that has its foundation in the nature and idea of a thing, as when we say that a triangle necessarily has three sides. We say that God is necessarily existent, not because he is forced to exist by something out of himself, but because the idea of an infinite and abso- lutely perfect Being implies necessity of being. A being who once did not exist, and who may become extinct, is a finite and imperfect being, and consequently not God. In like manner God is necessarily holy, because the concep- tion of infinite excellence excludes the possibility of apos- tasy and sin which attaches to finite virtue. Infinite holi- ness is immutable, and therefore infinite sinfulness is impossible. God's will is one with his reason in such a mode that the supposition of a schism and conflict between the two contradicts the idea of God. In the case of a finite creature, we can conceive of a conflict between the con- stitutional and the executive faculties without any altera- tion in the grade of existence ; but if the infinite Creator fall into collision with himself, he is no longer infinite. Man's will may come into hostility to his conscience, and he still remain human. Angels may fall, and still be angels. Both continue in the same relative grade of ex- istence as before the change — that of a finite and mutable EXCELLENCE OF GOD. 37 creature. But if a schism and conflict should be intro- duced into the Godhead, and he should fall into collision with himself, he would by that single fact prove himself to belong to a changeable and finite grade of being. It could not be said of him : " Thou art the same from ever- lasting to everlasting. With thee there is no variableness, neither shadow of turning." At such a catastrophe, hell from beneath would be moved with a more profound amazement than that which greeted the fallen Lucifer, and with a more awful surprise than heart can conceive of there would burst from all the ranks of limited and nni ta- ble intelligences the utterance: "Art thou, the Eternal, become like one of us ? " The unique and transcendent perfection, then, of an infinite Being precludes the possi- bility of his becoming finite in any respect — and to become evil is to become finite ; nay, more, is to become weak, and miserable, and guilty. But not only does the idea of the Deity imply his neces- sary excellence, it is implied also in his position and rela- tionships. From the very nature of these, the divine will cannot be divorced from the divine reason and come into hostility to it. " God cannot be tempted," says St. James, and there cannot be sin without temptation. There is nothing greater and better than the Infinite that can be an inducement to apostasy. When man apostatized, there was something above him which he was reaching out after. He desired to become " as gods." He expected to attain a higher position. But God is already God — infinite, self- sufficing, and blessedly self-satisfied. There is nothing higher than himself to reach after. I^o motive to sin can assail the Supreme, and therefore sin is impossible to him. In order to be tempted, God was compelled to become in- carnate, and assume a finite, temptable nature. Will and reason, then, in God are one and inseparable, 38 THE SUPREME and he is necessarily good in the same sense that he is necessarily existent. There is no compulsion from with- out, but the necessity is implied in the idea of the Being. God's pure and perfect nature is the law and principle of God's pure and perfect character. Should the two become contrary and hostile, the Infinite would become finite, the Creator would become a creature. There is none good, then, but God, in the sense that if he becomes evil he loses his grade of being. The divine excellence, there- fore, is as necessary and immutable as the divine existence. Does God cease to be holy, he ceases to be deity. II. In the second place, God is the only originally good Being. All rational creatures, if they are good, derive their goodness. They are not good in and of themselves as the ultimate source. They look up to a yet better Being, and confess that they are only reflections of a splendor and glory that is above them. Hence the finite mind adores / but the infinite mind never does or can. Hence the angel lifts up his eye in the beatific vision, that his soul may rest upon a deeper and firmer virtue than his own. Hence the man prays and supplicates for an excellence that is not aboriginal and necessarily connected with his own being. But God is goodness, not merely has it. God is love, not merely has it. God is light, not merely has it. Will and reason are identical in him. He is not excellent because his nature derives excellence from another's nature, but because it is infinite excellence itself. Right- eousness is not so much a particular attribute of God as it is his essential quality ; the supporter of his attributes, that which is the substrate of them all, that which pene- trates them and makes them fair, lovely, and perfect. As the earth is at once the bearer and nourisher of all trees and fruits, and by its genial influence and nurture makes them pleasant to the e3'e and good for food, so righteous- EXCELLENCE OF GOD. d9 ness is tlie nnderljing ground of all the attributes of God. Righteousness imparts to the divine justice its serene and awful beauty, liighteousness regulates the divine mercy, and prevents it from becoming mere indulgence. Right- eousness enters into all the natural attributes of Jeho- vah, and renders his onmipotence, and omnipresence — his otherwise soulless and characterless traits — worthy of love and reverence. The Platonists speak of an original light that is the source of all the light of the sun and stars — a light that is pureness itself, and gives to the sun its dazzle and to the stars their sparkle. So righteousness is the aboriginal rectitude from which all the qualities of Jehovah derive their worth and perfection, and of which all finite virtue is the faint reflection. III. In the third place, God is the only self-suhsistently good Being. His excellence does not depend upon the will and power of any other than himself. All created spirits, as we have already hinted, must look to God for the exist- ence and perpetuity of righteousness within themselves ; but God looks only to himself that he may be righteous. As he is self-subsistent in his being, so he is in his char- acter. The divine will needs no strengthening in order to its continuing holy, because it is already an infinite force. Its energy is omnipotent, and we have seen that it is so blended and one with the divine reason that a separation and antagonism is conceivable only upon the supposition that God ceases to be infinite. The goings forth of the divine will are without variableness or shadow of turning. From eternity to eternity the decisions and determinations of God are but the efflux of the divine essence, and partici- pate in the immanent and necessary characteristics of the divine constitution. The triune God, therefore, is indepen- dently good. Though the finite creation should all aposta- tize and become evil, yet God remains the same Holy One 40 THE SUPREME for ever. Man is affected by the fall of man ; angels are seduced from their allegiance by angels ; God alone is unmoved and unaffected by all the change and apostasy of creation. In the calm air of his own eternity he exists unchangeably holy, because of a self-sufficient and self-sus- taining power ; while angels and men fall away from holi- ness and from him, and introduce sin and death into the universe. lY. And this leads naturally to the fourth position, that God is the only immutably good Being. This is a glorious truth for every created mind that is good, and de- sires to remain so. The Supreme Being is unchangeably excellent. The infinitude of his nature places him beyond all the possibilities, contingencies, and hazards of finite exist- ence. All the created universe may fall from goodness, but God is no part of the universe. He created all the worlds from nothing, and whatever they may be or do does not in the least affect his nature and attributes. God is the Being from whom other beings fall away into sin and misery. As the essence of God would not be affected in the least if the entire substance of the universe should be annihilated, or if it had never been made f i-om nothing, so the moral excellence of God would not be diminished in the slightest manner though all the creatures of his power should plunge into the abyss of evil. Amidst the sin of a world, and in opposition to the kingdom and prince of evil, God remains immutably holy, and by the intrinsic and eternal immaculateness of his character is entitled to deal out an eternal judgment, and a righteous retribution, upon every soul that doeth evil. Though he sees in his universe nnich iniquity, yet he is of purer ej'es than to look upon it with any indulgence. Though sin has been the product of the will of man for six thousand years, yet his moral anger burns with the same steady and di'eadf ul intensity against EXCELLENCE OP GOD. 41 it now, as when Adam heard the voice of the Lord God walking in the garden in the cool of the day, and was afi-aid, and hid himself. The same spiritual excellence in God which caused the flood to destroy the old wicked world, and which rained fire and brimstone upon filthy Sodom and Gomorrah, causes him to be displeased with the wicked this day, and every day. ISTow, there is something indescribably cheering and strengthening in this truth and fact. As we look abroad over the world and see how full of sin it is ; as we reflect upon the limited and feeble nature of all finite spirits, though they be in the highest range of the heavenly hier- archies ; as we consider the liability of everything within the sphere of creation to undergo changes and fluctuations ; it imparts a serene joy and a calm strength to the soul to lift up the eye to the eternal hills, and to remember that above all this sphere of finiteness and limitation and sin there dwells One Being who is the same from everlasting to everlasting, and who is not under any possibilities or liabilities of change either in his existence or his charac- ter. For the very thought that God might possibly be- come like his creatures ; that he of whom his own word asserts " it is impossible that he should lie," should yet be false to his own nature and to his word ; that he, to whom the seraphim in their trisagion, their thrice-repeated and intensely emphasized " holy," ascribe an inherent and neces- sary perfection, should yet become vile like the worms of his footstool — the thought, we say, that the Supreme Being, the first cause and last end of all other beings and things, might possibly become unholy and unworthy, sends a shrinking and a shudder through tlie human soul. All sense of safety and security disappears, and the mind feels that there is no difference between finite and Infinite ; be- tween the creature and the Creator. Both alike are liable 42 THE SUPREME to the contingency of apostasy. Both alike may grovel in the dust. Kay, rather, let us fall back upon the immuta- bility and intrinsic unchangeableness of the Divine charac- ter, and with an upward-looking eye say with one of the loftiest and lowliest of human spirits : " Lord, I have viewed the universe over in which thou hast set me ; I have tried how this thing and that thing will fit my spirit, and the design of my creation ; and can find nothing in which to rest, for nothing here doth itself rest ; but such things as please for awhile, in some degree, vanish and flee as shadows before me. Lo, I come to thee, the Eternal Being, the Spring of Life, the Centre of Rest, the Stay of the Creation ; I join myself to thee ; with thee I will lead my life and spend my days, with whom I aim to dwell forever, expecting, when my little, finite, fluctuating time is over, to be taken up ere long into thy Eternity." * Thus is it true, that ' ' there is none good but one, that is God." There is but one Being in whom righteousness and holiness are necessary, aboriginal, self-subsistent, and immutable. But who of us worthily apprehends this great truth ? Who of us sees with the crystal clearness of a seraph's vision that God's excellence is transcendent ; that, com- pared with his immaculateness, angelic purity is not pure, and the stainless heavens are not clean ? Did we with open vision behold the infinite excellence of the Creator, we should be awed like the prophet Isaiah when the pillars of the temple moved at the voice of the wing-veiled seraphim, and the house was filled with smoke. And if our minds were pure, we should pass by all the holiness and excellence of the creature, and gaze steadfastly upon the increate and underived excellence of Jehovah, and by ' Howe : Vanity of Man as Mortal. EXCELLENCE OF GOD. 43^ thus gazing we should be changed into the same image from glory to glory in an endless succession. But we lan- guish, we perish, from lack of vision. That we may be moved to seek the vision granted to the pure in heart, let us now attend to some of the conclusions flowing from the truth that " there is none good but one, that is God." 1. In the first place, then, if God alone is supremely good, he alone is to be glorified and adored. Goodness is intrinsically worthy to be magnified and extolled. Right- eousness is fitted to awaken ascriptions of blessing, and honor, and thanksgiving, and glory, and dominion, and power. This accounts for the hallelujahs of heaven. There is a quality in the increate and transcending excel- lence of the most high God that dilates the holy mind, and renders it enthusiastic. Hence the saints on high are made vocal and lyrical by the vision of God's moral per- fection, and they give vent to their emotions in " the seven- fold chorus of hallelujahs and harping symphonies." There is much of this in the experience of the Psalndst. He beholds the divine excellence, and glories in it. It is a species of humble and holy boasting of the greatness and glory of Jehovah. " My soul shall make her boast in the Lord ; O magnify the Lord with me, and let us exalt his name together. In God we boast all the day long, and praise thy name forever." There is that in the divine character which, while it abases the creature in reference to his own personal character and merits, exalts and sub- limes him in reference to the excellence of his Maker. This is that unearthly vision which visits the soul of the dying, and makes his voice ring like a clarion in his pro- clamation and heralding of what God is. " Praise him" — said the dying Evarts, one of the coolest, and calmest, and most judicial of minds, in his ordinary mood, and in 44 THE SUPREME reference to all finite things — " praise him in a way you know not of." This inward glorying in the attributes of God is the great duty and ultimate end of man. Man's chief end is to glorify God. Obedience itself, or the performance of an outward service, is second in rank to this inward service of worship, when the soul is absorbed and lost in admira- tion of the divine perfections. All that the creature can do for God is little or nothing ; and the Almighty cer- tainly does not need the labor and toil of any of his crea- tures. But the service is a greater one when the soul ac- knowledges what God is and does. In this instance, the human agency acquires an added dignity and value from the side of Divinity ; even as sin becomes an infinite evil because of its reference to God. The recognition of the divine excellence, and the inward adoration that accom- panies it, is the last accomplishment of the Christian life; and it is this which crowns, and completes, and thereby ends, the Christian race and the Christian fight. Such a feeling as this cannot properly go out toward any being but the Supremely Good. The secondary re- cipients from the primary source can never be the objects of glory and exaltation. Saint-worship is irrational. For there is none supremely good but one, and none but the Supreme deserves the exaltation. As there is but one life in nature, and the individual tree or plant is alive because it partakes of it, so there is but one Eternal Excellence, and individual spirits are excellent because tliey participate in it. God alone, therefore, is worthy to receive all the glory, and all the extolling, and all the magnifying that belongs to excellence. To unfold the illustration — when the naturalist looks upon the tree or the plant, he does not ascribe the beauty of its form and foliage, and the richness of its fruit, to that single isolated individual specimen, but EXCELLENCE OF GOD. 45 to the great general life in nature which produced it ; to that vast vegetative power which God has impressed upon nature. In like manner when we see moral excellence in the creature, we do not ascribe the glory and praise to the individual, but to that Spirit of Good, the Holy Spirit, who produced it in him. Neither men nor angels are worthy to be magnified and extolled, because their virtue is not aboriginal. The really good man or angel refers his char- acter to God, and is filled with abhorrence at the thought of glorifying himself, or of being glorified for it. And there is no sin that so grieves him as his propensity to a detestable self -idolatry. When Paul and Barnabas, after healing the cripple, heard that the priest of Jupiter had brought oxen and garlands unto the gates, and was about to offer sacrifice with the people unto them as unto gods come down in the likeness of men, they rent their clothes and ran in among the people, crying out, and saying, " Sirs, why do ye these things ? We also are men of like passions with you." In like manner does every finite spirit that really partakes of the Divine excellence recoil at the thought of ascriptions of praise unto himself, and says unto those who would forget the Creator in the ex- cellence of the creature, " Why marvel ye at me ? or why look ye so earnestly on me, as though by my own ultimate power or holiness I am holy ?" Whatever, then, we may think of man, and however we may regard him, to God alone belong glory, and honor, and thanksgiving, and blessing, and dominion, and power. 2. Secondly, if God alone is supremely good, it is sin, and the very essence of sin, not to glorify him. The ultimate form of moral evil consists in worshipping the creature, and not exalting and adoring the Creator. We can often reduce one form of transgression into another. Theft is a species of selfishness — an attempt to 46 THE SCPREME gratify personal desires at the expense of another's inter- est. Ambition is a kind of rebellion — an endeavor to overleap the limits which have been prescribed to the indi- vidual by his Maker. And so it is easy to generalize almost every transgression, and find its root in a wider and deeper principle of evil. But what generalization is wider and deeper than the indisposition to worship and magnify God in the heart ? Hence the apostle Paul, after particu- larizing the sins of the heathen, gathers and concentrates the substance of all their sin and guilt in the one fact, "that when they knew God, they glorified him not as God " ; that " they worshipped the creature more than the Creator." And in another place, when he would exhibit the universal and generic quality in the sin of man, he strengthens his affirmation that " all have sinned," by the additional clause, " and come short of the glory of God." This is an indictment to which every man must plead guilty, and which stops the mouth of him who is " willing to justify himself." For who has worshipped and served the eternal God, in his body and spirit which are His, as that Being is worthy to be worshipped ? Who of the sons of men has not come short in this respect ? One of the Greek words for sin signifies to fail of hitting the mark by reason of the arrow's not coming up to the tar- get. If this be the idea and visual image of sin, who of us is not a sinner ? There are some advantages, and there are also some dis- advantages, in looking upon sin as consisting in disobeying particular commandments; in not keeping this or that separate precept; in swearing, or lying, or stealing. We must begin with this, but we must not end with it. If we stop at this point, we run the hazard of becoming self- righteous. We are in danger of presuming that because we do not lie, or swear, or steal, we are morally perfect. EXCELLENCE OF GOD. 47 In the beginning of the Christian life, the eye is naturally and properly fixed upon those separate acts of transgres- sion upon which we can put our finger — that more exter- nal part of our sinfulness which it is our first and easiest duty to put away. But we soon learn, if we are progres- sive, that all these particular transgressions are but differ- ent modes in which the great and primitive sin of human nature manifests itself ; are only varied exhibitions of that disinclination and aversion to glorify God, and extol him in the heart, which is the ultimate and original sin of man. He, therefore, who does not, after putting away swearing, lying, and stealing, look down a little lower into his iieart, and detect the yet subtler ramifications of his corruption, will be likely to degenerate into a mere moralist, instead of becoming one of those spiritually-minded Christians who become more lowly, and humble, and broken-hearted, as they become more and more upright and obedient in their external conduct. The biographies of men like Leighton and Edwards must ever be a mystery, and a self- contradiction, to those who do not see that the very essence and inmost quality of sin consists in the lack of a heart to magnify the Lord, and to exalt his holy name. Read the diaries of such men, and witness their moaning in secret over the vileness of their hearts ; hear the outbursting ex- pression that " the sin is infinite upon infinite ; " and then think of the pure and saintly course of their lives, when those lives are tried by the tests of external and single commandments, and does it not seem strange and para- doxical ? These men were not hypocrites. J^o one can suspect them of this. But were they not self-deceived and mistaken ? So some critics say, who judge of human character by the more superficial and outward criteria. The key to the difficulty is found in the fact, that for such men as Leighton and Edwards the substance and in- 48 THE SUPEEME most quality of sin had come to be this continual fail- ure to glorify God in the heart, in a manner worthy of God's infinite excellence. Their character in this particu- lar they felt to be imperfect. They were sinners in this respect. When they prayed, their prayers were defective from a lack of full faith in God's being and readiness to bless ; and this was coming short of God's glory. When they praised and worshipped, their emotions and utter- ances were far below God's worthiness and desert ; and this was coming short of God's glory. When they obeyed the statutes and commandments of God, it was not with that totality and completeness of service which is due to such a perfect and excellent Being ; and this was to come short of the Divine glory. They could not say, as did the only perfect man that ever lived upon earth : " I have glorified thee on the earth : I have finished the work thou gavest me to do." And their apprehension of the sinful- ness of this falling short of the chief end of man's crea- tion was as painful as that which accompanies an ordinary Christian's sense of guilt when he violates some particular commandment of the decalogue. They had passed be- yond the more common forms of sin, because they had, in a great measure, overcome and subdued them. A class of temptations which assail us, on our low position and with our low degree of spirituality, had little or no influence with them ; and hence we wonder that their expressions of contrition and self-loathing should be so intense. We think that if our lives could but reach the pitch of excel- lence to which they attained, there would be but little cause for the shame and lamentation which now accompa- nies our review of our daily walk and conversation. But with them we should discover that in respect to sin, as in respect to hell itself, " in every deep there is a lower deep." The supreme excellence of God, and the spirituality of EXCELLENCE OF GOD. 49 his law, would dawn more and more upon our rainds ; the sense of our obligation, as his creatures, to magnify and glorify him in every act and every element of our exist- ence, would grow stronger and stronger; our conscious- ness of failure to render this perfect homage and fealty would become deeper and deeper; and thus, while our obedience of particular and single commandments was be- coming more and more punctilious and uniform, our feel- ing of defect at the fountain-head of character would become more and more poignant and self -abasing. We should see, as we had not before, that the very core and essence of moral evil consists in " worshipping and serving the creature more than the Creator." We should under- stand that there is no sin so wearing and wearisome as human egotism — as man's inveterate unwillingness to sink self, and renounce all idolatry, in the liumble and adoring recognition of God's infinite perfection. We should under- stand, and sympathize with, that low and penitential refrain which mingles with the jubilant music of all the saintly spirits in the history of the Church. Endeavor, then, to get into this mood and frame of mind. Be impressed with the greatness, goodness, and glory of God. Let the Divine attributes encompass you like an atmosphere. Then you will put away all pride and vain-glory, and can say in the language of that exquisite psalm : " Lord, my heart is not haughty, nor mine eyes lofty ; neither do I exercise myself in great matters, or in things too high for me. Surely I have behaved and quieted myself as a child that is weaned of his mother ; my soul is even as a weaned child." 3 SERMON IV. THE FATHEEHOOD OF GOD. Luke xvi. 25. — "But Abraham said, Son, remember that thou in thy life-time receivedst thy good things, and likewise Lazarus evil things, but now he is comforted, and thou art tormented." At first sight, it appears singular that the unbelieving and impenitent Dives, in the very place of retribution, should be addressed by Abraham " the father of believ- ers " by the endearing title of " son." This word, how- ever, as employed in the Scriptures, has more than one signification. It may denote only the benevolent and kindly relation existing between the Creator and the creature, as when the apostle Paul quotes approvingly the sentiment of the pagan poet : " We are his offspring ; " or as when St. Luke, tracing up the genealogy of Christ to the beginning of creation, calls Adam the "son of God." And it may also mark merely the relation of de- pendence and inferiority, in some particular, existing be- tween man and man. In such connections as these, the term does not necessarily imply any real filial feeling on tlie part of the so-called son, or teach that the one to whom it is applied is in affectionate and childlike sympa- thy with the one who applies it. Joshua, for instance, addresses the guilty Achan, who had stolen the Babylon- ish garment and the wedge of gold, with this endearing title. " My son, give, I pray thee, glory to the Lord God THE FATHEEHOOD OF GOD. 51 of Israel, and make confession unto him ; and tell me now what thou hast done ; hide it not from me." Achan was not a son in feeling, and in truth. He loved neither God, nor Joshua the servant of God. Hence, notwithstanding this employment of the epithet, " Joshua and all Israel with him took Achan, the son of Zerah, and the silver, and the garment, and the wedge of gold, and his sons, and his daughters, and his oxen, and his asses, and his sheep, and his tent, and all that he had, and stoned him with stones, and burned them with fire." In like man- ner, in the text, Abraham who had been called " father " by the sinful Dives — " Father Abraham, have mercy upon me " — addresses the guilty creature of God as son : " Son, remember that thou in thy life-time receivedst thy good things, and likewise Lazarus evil things ; but now he is comforted, and thou art tormented." The phraseology employed in this parable of our Lord, together with such a use of the term " son" as that made by Joshua in reference to Achan, throws light upon the doctrine of the Fatherhood of God. It is of the utmost consequence that we make no mistake respecting this im- portant truth. In what sense, then, is God the Father of all men ; and in what sense is he not the Father of all men ? For it is clear that God does not sustain the same relation in every respect to all mankind equally and alike. He is not the Father of Judas Iscariot and Nero, in the identical sense in which he is of the apostle John and archbishop Leighton. He is not the Father of an impeni- tent Messalina, in the same way that he is of a broken- hearted Magdalen. For in the former case there is no affectionate filial feeling ; and God, by his prophet Mala- chi, says to any and every man who would use the en- dearing term while at the same time he does not cherish the appropriate emotions: "A son honoreth his father; 52 THE FATHERHOOD OF GOD. if then I be a father, where is mine honor ? " If the children of men, if any class of creatures, presume to de- nominate the Eternal One their Father, certainly they should evince their sincerity by the exercise of the cor- respondent sentiment. I. In answering the first question, we remark that God is the Father of all men indiscriminately and without ex- ception, in that he is their Creator. The author of any being or thing is naturally denominated its father. " Have we not one father ? Hath not one God created us ? " (Mai. ii. 10). " Hath the rain a father ? And who hath begotten the drops of the dew ? " (Job xxxviii. 28). When the devil " speaketh a lie, he speaketh of his own " — of what he himself has invented and made — " for he is a liar, and the father of it " (John viii. 44). " Every good gift, and every perfect gift, is from above, and cometh down from the Father of lights " — the originating author of all illumination, physical or mental (James i. IT). " To find the Maker and Father of the universe," says Plato, " is a difficult task " (Timaeus, 28). In this sense, God is the Father of all men indiscriminately. The hardened transgressor who is to be sent to everlasting perdition, and the penitent believer who is to be raised to heights of glory, here stand upon the same plane. They are of that " one blood " of which God made all mankind ; and there is no difference between them. They are alike his " offspring," and he is alike their Father. This is the com- mon basis upon which all creatures appear. The rich and the poor, the saint and the sinner here meet together, and the Lord is equally the Maker and providential Father of them all. Such a common relationship as this to the Divine provi- dence and benevolence justifies the use of the word " fa- ther " in a secondary and qualified meaning. God, be- THE FATHEEHOOD OF GOD. 53 cause he created the human soul, is profoundly interested in it. He does not and cannot hate any substance that he has made. That rational and immortal spirit which he originated from nothing, and endowed with attributes re- sembling his own, is very dear to him as its maker. This is evinced by the care which he takes of it. He maintains it in being by a positive act of omnipotence, and he is continually supplying its multiplied wants. Were it not for his perpetual benevolence and oversight, the soul and body of man would sink into non-existence, or be over- whelmed by suffering and pain. Now, such an interest in the constitutional structure of his creatures on the part of God, justifies his calling himself " the Father of the spir- its of all flesh." And every human being, whatever his moral character, is an object of benevolent and paternal concern to his maker. Even when he is transgressing the Divine law, the Divine hand that made him holds him in existence, crowns his life with blessings, makes the sun to shine upon him, and the rain to fall upon his broad acres, as if he were a child in the high and tender mean- ing of the word. n. But while this is so, and should awaken sorrow in every man for his rebellion and ingratitude, it is neverthe- less a fact that God is not the Father of all men indis- criminately in the highest and fullest sense of the term — their Father by redeiivption and adojption. For man in his unrenewed state is an enemy of God. " The carnal mind is enmity against God " (Rom. viii. 7). We are " by nature children of wrath " (Eph. ii. 3). This is the attitude in which, by reason of apostacy, man stands towards his kind and benevolent Creator. And this attitude is incompatible with the relation of father and child in the full, tender, and affectionate meaning of these terms. With such an inimical feeling in the heart, it is impossible 54 THE FATHERHOOD OF GOD. to cry, "Abba, Father! " An enemy of God cannot sincerely say, " Our Father which art in heaven." Hence the apostle describes the change that is made by regeneration, in the following language : " Ye have not received the spirit of bondage again to fear ; but ye have received the spirit of adoption whereby we cry Father, Father. The spirit itself beareth witness with our spirit that we are the children of God." Previously to this, the parties have been estranged from each other. Sinful man fears his holy Maker, and his holy Maker frowns upon sinful man. And these words are to be taken in their strict meaning upon both sides. It is a false view that represents God as really complacent towards every man irrespective of his character, and that it is only the creature's groundless fear that stands in the way of a pleasant and happy intercourse. God really and truly makes a difference in his own mind and feeling be- tween the man that obeys and confides in him, and the man who disobeys and distrusts him. He is positively displeased with the transgressor of his law, and the recon- ciliation which is effected by the atonement of Christ is mutual. God's holiness is reconciled to man, and man is reconciled to God. When a penitent sinner trusts in the expiatory sacrifice of Jesus Christ, then the triune God becomes his Father in the high and endearing signification of the term, and the man becomes a child of God in the same signification. The relation which is now established between the parties is not merely that of the creature to the Creator — a relation that does not necessarily involve love and obedience — but there is mutual affection, and delightful intercourse and communion. On the evening of the night in which Chalmers was summoned instantaneous- ly from earth to heaven, he was overheard while walking in his garden uttering in earnest and affectionate tones : " My Father, O my heavenly Father." This is childhood THE FATHERHOOD OF GOD. 55 in the full sense ; and this is the Divine fatherhood in its blessed truth and reality. " As many as are led by the spirit of God, they are the sons of God " (Rom. viii. 14). " I have often found," says Bunyan, " that when I can say but this word Father^ it doth me more good than if I called him by any other Scripture name. It is worth your noting, that to call God by this title was rare among the saints in Old Testament times. Seldom do you find him called by this name — no, sometimes not in three or four books ; but now, in New Testament times, he is called by no name so often as this, both by the Lord Jesus himself, and by the apostles afterwards. Indeed, the Lord Jesus was he that first made the name common among the saints, and that taught them, both in their discourse, their prayers, and their writings, so much to use it ; it being more pleas- ing to God, and discovering more plainly our interest in God, than any other expression. For by this one name, we are made to understand that all our mercies are the offspring of God, and that we also that are called are his children by adoption." ' Having thus briefly explained the senses in which God is and is not the Father of all men, we turn to deduce some practical lessons from the subject. 1. In the first place, we see how it is possible for God to be both a Father and a Judge at one and the same time, and to both love and abhor simultaneously. The reader of the Bible observes sometimes with perplexity, that God is represented as looking upon man with two wholly diverse emotions. The Scriptures seem to be self- contradictory. Sometimes God appears as yearning over man in compassion ; and sometimes as consuming him with the blast of the breath of his nostrils. Sometimes his utter- ' Bunyan : Come, and Welcome, to Jesus Christ. 56 THE FATHERHOOD OF GOD. ance is : " Turn ye, turn ye, for why will ye die ? As I live, saith the Lord God, I have no pleasure in the death of the wicked. The Lord doth not afflict willingly nor grieve the children of men." And sometimes the declaration is: " Thou hatest all workers of iniquity. God is angry with the wicked every day. Who may stand in thy sight when once thou art angry ! Who knoweth the power of thine anger ! Even according to thy fear so is thy wrath. The wrath of God is revealed from heaven against all un- riofhteousness. He that believeth not the Son shall not see life ; but the wrath of God abideth on him." How can these two feelings co-exist in one and the same Being, towards one and the same person ? How can blessing and cursing proceed out of the same mouth ? How can the same fountain send forth both sweet waters and bitter ? Must we not assume that one or the other of these dec- larations is figurative, and in this way harmonize the Bible with itself ? In the light of the distinction between God as the be- nevolent creator and preserver of all men — their provi- dential Father in the general sense, and God as the re- deeming and reconciled Father of penitent believers — their Father in the special sense, we find the clue to the diffi- culty. The kindly and benevolent feeling of the general paternity may co-exist with the holy displeasure of the righteous Judge. Even an imperfect man is capable of such a double emotion. A kind earthly father, or a gen- tle mother, may be filled with most intense displeasure at the hardened wickedness and profligacy of a child, and yet at the same time would gladly lay down life to se- cure his repentance and eternal welfare. By reason of the father's or the mother's moral excellence and resem- blance to God, there can be nothing but abhorrence of the child's sin ; and if the parent should be informed from THE FATHERHOOD OF GOD. 57 an infallible source that the child would never repent, but would continue a hardened and wilful transgressor through all eternity, he would not only acquiesce in the judgment of God that banished him from heaven, but would say with all the holy, " Amen : so it must be, so it should be." For sin is an evil and a terrible thing, and even the dear- est earthly ties cannot induce a holy and spiritual mind to approve of it, or desire that it should escape the merited punishment. And yet that parent is ready for any self- sacrifice that would deliver the rebellious and transgressing child from sin, and the penalty of sin. He says with David over the dead body of his wicked son : " O my son Absalom ! my son, my son Absalom ! would God I had died for thee, O Absalom, my son, my son ! " And, with David, he never presumes to question the righteousness of the divine procedure in the punishment of a hardened transgressor, even though that transgressor be bone of his bone and flesh of his flesh. The feeling of displeasure with which God regards sin belongs to his pure and perfect nature, and it is impossi- ble for him to exist without it. It is no more optional with him to abhor iniquity, than it is to be omnipotent or omnipresent. God must, from his very nature and idea, be all-powerful, and in every place ; and for the same rea- son he must react against evil wherever it exists. But at the same time he has no malice in his nature. He wishes well to every creature whom he has made. He cherishes a benevolent, and in this sense a paternal feeling towards every rational spirit. Even a little sparrow does not fall dead to the ground without his taking an interest in it ; and certainly, then, he cannot be inspired with any ma- licious or unkind emotion toward the rational and immortal spirits who are of more value than many sparrows. The Creator can feel a natural and necessary abhorrence of the 68 THE FATHERHOOD OF GOD. sinner's sin, while yet he feels an infinite compassion for the sinner's soul. Says Augustine : " It is written, ' God commendeth his love towards us, in that while we were yet sinners Christ died for us.' He loved us, therefore, even when in the exercise of enmity against him we weie working iniquity. And yet it is said with perfect truth : ' Thou hatest,* O Lord, all workers of iniquity.' Where- fore, in a wonderful and divine manner he both hated and loved us at the same time. He hated us as being differ- ent from what he had made us ; but as our iniquity had not entirely destroyed his work within us, he could at the same time, in every one of us, hate what we had done, and love what he liad created." God loves man as a creature, while he is angry with him as a sinner. He takes a deep and tender interest in the soul which he has made and keeps in existence, while he is filled with a deep displeasure at the sin which is in that soul. Where is the inconsistency in the simultaneous existence of these two emotions? Each is exercised to- wards its proper object. The love goes out towards the soul as such ; and the wrath goes out towards the sin as such. The sin is in the soul and cannot be separated from it except by the substitution of holiness in its place. If, then, any man retains the sinfulness of his soul, he must not expect that God's general benevolence and providen- tial paternity will nullify his holiness ; that his interest in the workmanship of his hands will overcome his regard for truth and righteousness, and induce him to let sin go unpunished. The providential paternity of God, and the universal sonship of man, are consistent with the punish- ment of incorrigible and hardened depravit3\ 2. In the second place, we learn from this subject, that it is our duty to exercise the same feelings towards the soul of man, and the sin of man, that God does. THE FATHERHOOD OF GOD. 59 We are commanded to imitate God in his moral perfec- tions. " Be ye holy for I am holy. Be ye perfect as your Father in heaven is perfect." We cannot obey these in- junctions without sympathizing with God in his benevolent love for -the human soul, and his holy disapprobation of human sinfulness. And this sympathy should be seen first in reference to ourselves, and then in regard to others. We have no right to treat other souls difiFerently from our own. Religion must begin at home, and hence while we cherish a rational love for our own souls, we should at the same time sternly condemn and abhor our own personal sin. A man should both love and hate himself. While he says : " Skin for skin, yea, all that I have I will give for my life," he should also say, " I abhor myself." While he is deeply anxious for his own well-being here and here- after, he should sympathize with his holy Maker in abom- inating the iniquity of his own heart. These two feel- ings are not incompatible. Nay, we never begin to love ourselves aright, until we begin to condemn and hate our sins. And, certainly, if we deal in this manner with our own souls and our own sins, we are entitled to deal in this manner with the souls and sins of others. As we mingle in society and come in contact with our fellow-creatures and our fellow-sinners, we ought to feel the same desire that God does for their soul's welfare, and the same ab- horrence which he feels for their soul's sin. No malice, no envy, no ill-will, towards any creature of God should ever rise within us. We ought to wish well to the whole ra- tional universe. Such was the angelic song : " Peace on earth, and good will to men." As creatures simply, and not taking their sinfulness into account, we should love all men indiscriminately, and desire their happiness in time and eternity. But when we leave out this characteristic, 60 THE FATHERHOOD OF GOD. and contemplate any man as an antagonist of God, and a bitter enemy of that holy and perfect Being, we should be filled with a righteous displeasure, and desire his punish- ment. We should say with David : " Do not I hate them, Lord, that hate thee ? I hate them with perfect hatred : 1 count them mine enemies " (Ps. cxxxix. 21, 22). And if we have done all this in reference to ourselves personally, mankind will not complain if we subject them to the same tests, and treat them in the same manner. Nay, more, we shall do them good by our impartiality and sincerity. If we really love their souls, they will let us hate their sins. If we labor and pray, that as creatures of God, and capable of eternal purity and joy, they do not go down to perdition, they will not object to the severest denunciation of their iniquity. It is the duty of the Church to sympathize with God in all his feelings towards a world lying in wickedness. Christians must not be inspired with any mere sentimental- ism in reference to the sins and sorrows of man, for God is not. With him they must look with a clear, impartial eye, and remember that wherever there is suffering in the universe of God, there is sin. These sorrows of humanity are the consequence of the guilt of humanity, and when we look upon them, either in our own case or that of others, we are to say : " Just and righteous art thou, O God, in all this punitive infliction. Man has transgressed, and therefore he suffers. Death hath passed upon all men, because all have sinned." And on the other hand, we are to sympathize with God in his tender concern for the soul, as distinguished from the sin. We are to see in every fellow-man a spark of the Divine intelligence ; a partaker, as St. Peter says, of a divine nature ; an immor- tal spirit similar to the Eternal Spirit, and destined to live forever. We are to remember that such an essence as this THE FATHERHOOD OF GOD. 61 is worth saving ; that it is an infinite loss when it goes to perdition, and that no sacrifice is too great to save it. God, who looks into the nature of things, saw its value, and shrank not from the most costly sacrifice. He spared not his own Son, but gave him up in order that the soul, the rational deathless nature of man, might be saved. What an increase of power would be imparted to the Church, if every member of it M^ere filled with these two emotions, pure and simple, which dwell in the bosom of God. There would be no self-indulgence in sin, and no weak and fond indulgence of sin in others. The eye would be single, solemn, piercing, holy. A healthy con- science would brace up and strengthen the entire man, and he would go forth into the world, a terror to evil- doers, and a praise to them who do well. And at the same time, this Christian would be a very tender-hearted creature. He would feel the worth of every soul in itself, abstracted from the sin that is in it. His heart would yearn towards it, as an emanation from God, and an im- mortal thing for which Christ died. His works would follow his faith, and he would labor and pray for its wel- fare, with a solemnity, a persistence, and a holy earnest- ness, that would certainly receive the Divine approbation and blessing. 3. In the third place, this subject furnishes a test of a renewed and spiritual mind. A worldly mind is selfish in its love, and selfish in its hatred. It is displeased with sin when it interferes with its own enjoyment, and it is pleased with righteousness when it promotes its own happiness. If the worldling loses something in his own mind, body, or estate, by the tlieft or the lie of a transgressor, he inveighs bitterly against these particular sins. And if he is the gainer in his worldly circumstances by the industry, honesty, or 62 THE FATHERHOOD OF GOD. godliness of a Christian man, he is profuse in his praise of these virtues and graces. But he does not love holiness for its own intrinsic excellence, neither does he hate sin because of its abstract odiousness. If the sins of his fel- low-men would promote his selfish purposes, he would en- courage them, and be highly displeased at any attempt to check or remove them. His character and feelings are exactly the reverse of those of God. . He has no love for the soul of his fellow-man as the workmanship of the Creator, and no abhorrence of his sin as an evil thing in itself and under all circumstances. He cares not what becomes of the immortal part of his fellow-creature. He never toils or prays for its welfare. And his feelings towards the sins of a fellow-creature depend entirely upon how his interests are affected by them. Terrible as is the fact, it is nevertheless a fact, that the selfishness of the natural heart hesitates not to sacrifice the very soul, the very being itself, of a fellow-creature, in order to attain its o\vn purposes. Alexander and Napoleon, in the prosecu- tion of their plans, used the bodies and minds of millions of their fellow-men as the potter uses the passive clay. And how many there are, in narrower circles than those of the conqueror and the monarch, who do the same thing, and are madly rushing to the same condemna- tion. But not so with the true child of God. He loves the Boul, and hates the sin. His feeling in each instance is pure, spiritual, disinterested. He loves his own soul and abhors his own sin. And he does by others as he does by himself. He is not displeased with the transgressions of men merely because they injure his private interests, lie would gladly suffer that loss, if thereby he could secure their repentance and reformation. He abhors their iniquity for its own intrinsic quality, as God abhors it. His hatred THE FATHERHOOD OF GOD. 63 of moral evil is spiritual, disinterested, liolj, like that of his Father in heaven, with whom he sympathizes, and for whose honor he is jealous. And his love for the wel- fare of every man indiscriminately partakes of the same spirituality. He is ready to toil, give of his substance, and pray for the salvation of fellow-creatures whom he never- saw, and never will see, until he stands with them at the judgment seat. He needs no introduction in order to take an interest in a lost man. The heathen in the heart of China or of Africa lie with as much weight upon his heart and conscience, as do the impenitent in his ovni neighborhood. Worldly men sometimes wonder, and some- times scofP, at the interest which the Church of God is taking in the millions of paganism who are thousands of miles away from them. They tell us that the heathen are at our own doors, and regard this great endeavor to obey the last command of Christ to preach the gospel to every creature, as quixotic and visionary. But they feel no Divine love for man as the image of God ; as a creature who came from the same plastic hand that they came from ; as an immortal spirit possessing the same properties and qualities that they are possessed of ; and above all, as the object of the same Divine pity in the blood of Christ by which they themselves must be saved, if saved at all. They have no fellow-feeling with their race ; and what is yet more, they have no sympathy with God the Redeemer of man. It is obvious that this is a very searching and a very accurate test of Christian character. It is possible to cherish a religiousness that is so selfish, so destitute of warm and disinterested love for human welfare, as to de- serve condemnation. This is the weak side, this is the great defect, in some very interesting phases of religious character. Look at the mediaeval monk and his severe spir- 64 THE FATHERHOOD OF GOD. itiial experiences. He is constantly occupied with the salva- tion of his soul. He thinks of nothing else, and lives for nothing else. And yet in finding his life he loses it. All these experiences are a refined form of self-love. He has merely transferred his self-seeking from time to eternity. What he needs is, to love others as he loves himself ; to break out from his seclusion and preach the gospel to his fellow- men. Having freely received, he should freely give. Those are truthful and discriminating remarks which the historian of Latin Christianity makes respecting the famous treatise on the " Imitation of Christ," in which this species of piety finds its finest and most winning delineation. " Its sole, single, exclusive object," he says, " is the purification, the elevation of the individual soul, of the man absolutely isolated from his kind, of the man dwelling alone in soli- tude in the hermitage of his own thoughts ; with no fears or hopes, no sympathies of our common nature : he has ab- solutely withdrawn and secluded himself not only from the cares, the sins, the trials, but from the duties, the con- nections, the moral and religious fate of the world. Never was misnomer so glaring, if justly considered, as the title of the book, the ' Imitation of Christ.' That which distinguishes Christ, that which distinguishes Christ's apostles, that which distinguishes Christ's religion — the love of man — is entirely and absolutely left out. Had this been the whole of Christianity, our Lord himself (with reverence be it said) had lived like an Essene, working out or displaying his own sinless perfection by the Dead Sea : neither on the mount, nor in the temple, nor even on the cross. The apostles had dwelt entirely on the internal emotions of their own souls, each by himself ; St. Peter still by the lake Gennessaret, St. Paul in the desert of Arabia, St. John in Patmos. Christianity had been with- out any exquisite precept for the purity, the happiness of THE FATHERHOOD OF GOD. 65 social or domestic life ; without self-sacrifice for the good of others ; without the higher Christian patriotism, devo- tion on evangelic principles to the public weal ; without even the devotion of the missionary for the dissemination of gospel truth ; without the humbler and gentler daily self-sacrifice for relatives, for the wife, the parent, the child. Christianity had never soared to be the civilizer of the world. ' Let the world perish, so the single soul can escape on its solitary plank from the general wreck,' such had been its final axiom." ' 4. In the fourth place, we learn from this subject, how sad must be the Jinal condition of those who never be- come the "dear children" of God, and to whom God is not a Father in the high and endearing sense of these terms. It is a frequent remark, that a blessing or a privilege when abused or perverted becomes the greatest of curses. And so it is in this instance. If we pervert and abuse the relation which as creatures we sustain to our Creator — if we live upon his bounty, and yet rebel against his authority — the fact that we are his offspring will only increase our condemnation. This paternal interest which God takes in us as his workmanship — this care, this protection, this providence which guards and guides us every day — if it be accompanied with no suitable feeling and action upon our part, will only result in a severer punishment. Unless by faith and repentance we come to be more than the crea- tures of God ; unless we become children and he becomes a Father in the full and blessed sense, our God and Father in Christ ; there is no peace or joy possible for us. It will be no source of comfort to remember that he is the provi- dential Father of all spirits by creation. The devils them- 'Milman : Latin Christianity, Book XTV., Chap, iii 66 THE FATHERHOOD OF GOD. selves share in this general fatherhood and benevolence of the Supreme Being. There is no malice in the Eternal Mind toward the arch-fiend himself. That fallen and wicked spirit is as dependent as he ever was upon the sustaining providence of the Most High. He is as much as ever the offspring of the Almighty. In this sense, he is still a son of the Highest. But this only renders him the more intensely guilty and unhappy. He has abused, and he is still and ever abusing the Divine benevolence, the Divine beneficence, the Divine providence, the Divine paternity. He has no filial feeling towards the Universal Parent, and therefore God is not his God and Father. He never says : " Our Father, hallowed be thy name. Thy kingdom come. Thy will be done." And so it is and must be in every instance of this kind. It is precisely so with the impenitent, the unfilial, the alienated man. Un- less the prodigal returns to his original relations, the fact that by creation God is his Father M'ill render his con- demnation more just and righteous, and his condition more wretched. It will be embittered by the reflection, that from first to last God was good and kind to him ; that he never in the least injured the dependent creature whom he called into being ; that he never felt the least ill- will towards him, but on the contrary cared for him, and did him good all the days of his life — in short, that he exercised towards him all the paternal feeling that was possible in the case. But there is one phase of a father's feeling which it is impossible for God to exhibit in such an instance as this. The creature has become his enemy. He opposes his will to that of God ; his carnal mind is not subject to the law of God. The tender and affection- ate feeling of a father cannot be manifested under such circumstances. All that God can do in this case is to con- tinue to exhibit his general benevolence and providential THE FATHEEHOOD OF GOD. 67 fatherhood, with the desire that it may soften the hard heart, and that " the goodness of God may lead to repent- ance." But if it all fails, if the creature to the end abuses this kindness and persists in his enmity and hatred, then the benevolent Creator must assume his function of Judge, and when the final day arrives must sentence this wicked and impenitent offspring of his to everlasting perdition, as he has sentenced the rebellious angels before him. Lay, then, this truth to heart. God cannot be a Father to any man who cannot from the fulness of his heart cry unto him, " My Father." His entreaty by his prophet is : " Wilt thou not from this time cry unto me. My Father, be thou the guide of my youth." This entreaty, though primarily addressed to the young, is intended for all. God desires to be more than our Creator. He is not content with bestowing these temporal and providential blessings with which he is crowning our life. He desires to impart the richer gifts of his grace. He would give not merely his gifts, but Himself to his creatures. But the creature repulses him. How many a man is at this very moment saying to his Maker : " Give me wealth, give me health, give me worldly ease and pleasure, give me intellectual power and fame, give me political influence and sway in the land, but do not give me Thyself." Is such a heart as this fitted for the world of light and love ? Is this the utterance of a child ? Can God be a dear Father to such an one? It is impossible from the nature of the case. Lay, not, then the flattering unction to your soul, that the universal fatherhood of God is sufficient to secure your eternal welfare. That is a great and glorious truth, but if you never get beyond it in your religious experience, to the doctrine of the special and endearing fatherhood of God in Christ, it will minister to yom* condemnation 68 THE FATHERHOOD OF GOD. and everlasting woe. Seek, then, to enter into a truly filial relation with your Maker. Rest not until you have made your peace with God's holiness and justice by his blood of atonement, and then you will "know with all saints the height and depth " of his fatherly love in Christ, " which passeth knowledge." SEKMON V. THE FUTURE VISION OP GOD. 2 Corinthians, iv. 18. — "The things which are not seen are eternal." There is a difference between things that are not seen, and things that are invisible. An object may not be seen at this particular moment, or under the present circumstances, and yet it may come into sight hereafter, or under a dif- ferent set of surroundings. But an object that is strictly invisible cannot be seen either now or hereafter ; from the present point of view, or from any conceivable position whatsoever. There are stars in the heavens that have never yet been observed by any human eye, but which can be brought into view by a higher power of the telescope. They are unseen, but they do not belong to the class of absolute invisibilities. But the spiritual essence of God, and the immaterial substance of the human soul, are strictly invisible. IsTot only are they not seen as yet, but they never will be seen by any vision whatsoever. This distinction is marked by the apostle Paul, and indi- cated by the difference in the phraseology which he employs. In the text, he uses the same form of words (/z^ ^Xeirofieva) with that employed in Hebrews xi. 1, where it is affirmed that faith is " the evidence [conviction] of things not seen " {ov ^€7ro/ji€V(i}v). In this latter instance the writer refers 70 THE FUTURE VISION OF GOD. to objects that are not visible now, but which will be visible hereafter. " Faith," he says, " is the conviction of things not seen " in the present, but to be seen in the future. lie cites in illustration the case of I^oah. The flood had not yet come and was a " thing not seen," when the patriarch exercised the act of faith ; but it afterward came, and was both visible and tangible. But when St. Paul, in Rom. i. 20, declares that " the invisible things of God, from the creation of the M'orld, are clearly seen, being understood by the things that are made, even his eternal power and godhead," he emploj^s a different word {aopara) which denotes that these things are intrinsically invisible. The eternal power and godhead — the Divine essence itself, with its inherent attributes — cannot be seen with the bodily eye. It can only be " understood," that is, illustrated and interpreted, " by the things that are made." The text, then, leads us to contemplate those objects which we do not see now, but whicli we shall see here- after. It does not call us to a metaphysical investigation of those things which are absolutely beyond the reach of finite cognition, because they are intrinsically invisible and incomprehensible ; but it invites us to examine those real- ities which we do not now see, or which at least we see through a glass darkly, but which we shall hereafter see, and see face to face. The first and greatest of these realities is God. After what we have remarked concerning the Divine essence, it will of course be understood that we do not mean to teach that we shall comprehend the mystery of the God- liead in the future life. " No man hath seen God at any time." No finite intelligence whatever, be it man or angel, can penetrate the inscrutable abyss of the Divine nature. This is an absolute invisibility, and neither in this world nor the next will the created mind comprehend THE FUTURE VISION OF GOD. 71 it. But there is a manifestation of God, whereby he puts himself into relation and communication with his creatures, so that they may know him sufficiently to glorify and en- joy him. The apostle John alludes to this, when, after saying that no man hath seen the invisible and unsearch- able God at any time, he adds, " The only begotten God who is in the bosom of the Father, he hath declared him." In the incarnation of the second trinitarian Person, the deity steps out, as it were, from behind the thick clouds and darkness that veil him from the human intelligence, and shows himself. Think of the difference that has been made in man's knowledge of God, by the Word's becoming flesh and dwelling among us. Compare the view of God which is enjoyed by all who have the four Gospels in their hands, with that which was granted to the wisest and most reflecting of the heathen. The little child in the Sabbath- school knows more of the being and attributes, and par- ticularly of the purposes of the Most High, than Plato himself. For Christ, the God-Man, stands before his in- fantile vision " the brightness of the Father's glory, and the exact image of his person ; " so that the deity possesses for this little child's mind in a Christian land a reality, a distinctness, an excellence, and a beauty, that never was revealed to the most serious, the most capacious, and the most highly disciplined intelligence of pagan antiquity. In the incarnate Word, that " unknown God " whom Paul alluded to on Mars hill, whom the philosophers of Athens were ignorantly worshipping, and after whom they were blindly groping if haply they might find him, assumes a corporeal human presence. He breaks through the sky, he bursts the dim ether, and stands out like the sun on the edge of the horizon a sublime and glorious Form. We see his face, alas ! marred more than any man ; we hear his voice. He is Immanuel — God with us. I tell you that 72 THE FUTURE VISION OF GOD. many sages and philosophers, many kings and prophets, have desired to see those things which the little child now sees, and have not seen them ; to hear those things which the little child now hears, and have not heard them. But the future manifestation of God that is to be made in heaven is yet more impressive and refulgent than this. The tabernacling of God in the flesh, eighteen centuries ago, was only preparatory to the great final manifestation of himself to his Church in the world of light ; and glo- rious as was the former, yet far more glorious will be the latter. " For even that which was made glorious had no glory in this respect, by reason of the glory that excelleth. For if that which is done away was glorious, much more that which remaineth is glorious " (2 Cor. iii. 10, 11). Christ upon earth in his state of humiliation was indeed glorious ; but Christ upon the mediatorial throne, still clothed in human nature but in his estate of exaltation, is far more glorious. It is not for us to say in what particulars God will be manifested to the blessed on high, whereby his presence will be far more impressive than it was in the theophanies of the Old Dispensation, or even in the earthly incarnation of the New. But we know the fact from the teaching of Scripture. The appearance of Jehovah to Abraham, when he was in Mesopotamia, before he dwelt in Charran ; to Moses in the burning bush, and on Mount Sinai ; to the child Samuel in the dim recesses of the temple ; to Isaiah when he saw the Lord sitting upon a throne high and lifted up, and his train filled the temple ; and last of all, the actual residence of this second Person of the Trinity on the plains of Palestine, and among the hills of Judea — all these graduated and growing revelations of the deity fall short of that which shall be in the future world. For the future world is the final one. All the preparatory THE FUTURE VISION OF GOD. 73 steps and stages in the religious education of the Church ; all the gradual and growing revelations that have heen employed to bring man into nearer and nearer communi- cation with the unseen God ; will have accomplished their purpose. The last wall of separation between the finite and the infinite Spirit will have been broken down ; man and God will meet face to face, and know even as they are known. Hence the last manifestation must be the crowning one. In heaven, God assumes a form more glorious and distinct than he has before assumed upon earth. He puts himself into a relation to human creatures that will influence them, and affect them, more profoundly and vividly than ever before. There is one proof of this to which we invite attention. It is the fact that the heavenly world is a world of perfect worship ; and perfect worship supposes a resplendent mani- festation and clear vision of the Object of worship. We see the operation of this principle in the idolatries of the world. The pagan requires some visible form be- fore which he can bow down, and to which he can address liis prayers. His error and his sin does not lie in the fact that he craves an object to worship, but in the fact that he selects a wrong object. No creature can offer prayer or praise to a nonentity ; and the idolater is fol- lowing a legitimate and constitutional conviction of the human mind, when he seeks some being, real or imagi- nary, toward whom his religious aspirations may go out, and upon whom they may terminate. He cannot pray into the air. His words need to strike upon some object, and rebound to him in an answer All this is natural and proper. But his error consists in substituting an image of gold and silver, or the sun, moon, and stars, or the forces of nature, for the Invisible Spirit. Reject- ing that idea of an " eternal poww ^nd Godhead " which 4 74 THE FUTURE VISION OF GOD. St. Paul asserts to be innate in every man, and to be " clearly seen and understood by the things that are made," the idolater betakes himself to the notions of his fancy, which are more in accordance with his vile affec- tions. Leaving his reason, he takes lessons in theology from his imagination. " Becoming vain in their imagina- tions, their foolish heart was darkened ; professing them- selves to be wise, they became fools, and changed the glory of the incorruptible God into an image made like to corruptible man, and to birds, and four-footed beasts, and creeping things." Not, then, in seeking an object of wor- ship, but in substituting a false for the true one, does the sin and folly of the idolater consist. There must be an object, in order to any worship. We find this same principle operating in the minds of believers themselves. What a craving there oftentimes is in the heart of a child of God, to behold the Being whom he has worshipped so long, but whom he has never seen. It is true that he enjoys many aids to his faith and wor- ship. The history of all these Divine manifestations to the patriarchs, and prophets, and apostles, is before him, and he reads it often and again. Still more, the story of the incarnation, and of the residence of God the Son here upon earth, he peruses over and over. These place the object of worship very plainly before him, in comparison with the dinmess of natural religion, and the darkness of idolatry. Nevertheless, he desires a fuller manifestation than this, and looks forward to one in the future. He sees through a glass darkly, though living under the light of revelation ; and says with David, " I shall be satisfied [only] when I awake in Thy likeness." " If," says Rich- ard Baxter, " an angel from heaven should come down on earth to tell us all of God that we would know, and might lawfully desire and ask him, who would not turn his THE FUTURE VISION OF GOD. 75 back upon libraries, and universities, and learned men, to go and discourse with such a messenger ? What travel should I think too far, what cost too great, for one hour's talk with such a messenger ? " This is the utterance of that holy man when he was standing upon the borders of eter- nity, and was about to go over into the " everlasting rest " whose felicity he has described so well. This is one of his " Dying Thoughts," and from it we see how ardently he desired to behold God, the great Object of worship, face to face. He had worshipped him long, and he had loved him long. He had enjoyed a clearer mental vision, prob- ably, than is granted to most believers. And yet he is not satisfied. With the Psalmist he cries out : " As the hart panteth after the water brooks, so panteth my soul after thee, O God. My soul thirsteth for God, for the living God : when shall I come and appear before God ? " Now from these facts in the human constitution, and in the Christian experience, we infer that there will be a full and unclouded vision of God in the future life. This is one of those " eternal things " which are not seen as yet, but which will be seen hereafter. For the future world is the world where worship reaches its perfection ; and therefore it must be the world where the Object of worship shines out like the sun. The Scripture figures and representations imply this. "I saw a great white throne," says St. John, " and him that sat on it, from whose face the earth and the heaven fled away, and there was found no place for them. And I saw the dead, small and great, stand before God." In this description of the last judgment, the creature and the Creator meet face to face. Who can doubt, from this statement, that when the books are opened and the final reckoning is made, the phenomenal appearance of the Deity will be far more startling and striking than any previous manifestation that 76 THE FUTURE VISION OF GOD. he has made. "Behold he cometh with clouds; and every eye shall see him, and they also which pierced him." Here we are told that the human eye looks directly into the Divine eye. There is even a specification of individuals. That Roman soldier who pierced the side of the Lord of Glory on Mount Calvary with his spear, will, in the day of doom, see that same Eternal One as distinctly as he saw him when nailed to the cross. These passages relate to the eternal judgment, and imply an immediate manifesta- tion of God then and there ; a direct vision of him, face to face. But with equal plainness do the representations of St. John respecting the eternal worship teach the same truth. "I saw," he says, " no temple in the heavenly Je- rusalem ; for the Lord God Almighty, and the Lamb, are the temple of it. And the city had no need of the sun, , neither of the moon to shine in it, for the glory of God i did lighten it, and the Lamb is tlie light thereof. And his servants see his face, and his name is in their fore- heads." It is not possible, as we have before remarked, to imagine or describe this glorious and final theophany. We cannot draw a picture of that resplendent Form be- fore which the heavenly hosts bow in reverence and love. And all such attempts to go beyond what is written are presumptuous. The Italian painters sometimes do this ; and even our own Milton, in some of his attempts to delin- eate the state and glory of the Eternal God, not only shows a faltering pinion, but derogates from the Divine honor. The subject is beyond human powers. Even the pen of inspiration could not convey to such faculties as those of man, and particularly to such an earthly-minded creature as he is, an adequate and full idea of the " excellent glory." Nevertheless, there is such a glory ; there is such a tran- scendant manifestation of the great Object of worship. And it is for us to think of it as we do of a star, or a sun, THE FUTURE VISION OF GOD. 77 that is not yet within the range of our vision. We have no doubt that Sirius is this moment shining witli a bril- liancy beyond conception ; that he is throwing out beams into universal space that glitter and gleam beyond any light that ever was on sea or land. We do not now see that star ; our eyes are not now blinded by its intolerable brightness. But there are eyes that behold it ; and if it should be brought within the range of our vision, wej should be forced to shield our orbs from its glare. Just so is it with the celestial manifestation of God. It does not now strike upon our vision, because we are upon earth. It is one of the " eternal things " which are not seen as yet. But it is none the less a reality. The star is shining in full effulgence within its own sphere ; and there are creatures who behold and adore. " Beloved, now are we the sons of God, and it doth not appear what we shall be ; but we know that when he shall appear, we shall be like him, for we shall see him as he is." ' For it will not be possible to offer unto God a perfect worship, until we see him as the angels and the spirits of just men made perfect see him. Even here upon earth, the fervency of our love and praise depends upon the clearness with which we behold the Divine perfections. When our spiritual perception is dim, our worship is faint ; but when we are granted, in the sanctuary or in the closet, some unusual views of our Maker and Redeemer, our languid affections are quickened. Worship, as we have repeatedly remarked, depends upon a sight of the Object of worship ; and it rises or sinks as that comes into our view, or recedes from it. The Persian Fire-Worship- pers adored the sun. So long as that luminary was below the horizon they were silent, and offered no worship ; but ' On the beatific vision, see Augustine's City of God, Book XXII. Chap. xxix. 78 THE FUTURE VISION OF GOD. when the first streaks of light and the first bars of crimson began to appear in the morning sky, they began to kindle in their own minds. Yet their worship did not reach its height, nntil ' ' Right against the eastern gate The great sun began his state, Robed in flames and amber light." So is it with Christian worship. Here upon earth we see some faint streaks of the Divine glory, and we offer some faint and imperfect adoration. But when the full- orbed glory of God shall rise upon our clear and purged vision in another world, our anthems will be like those of the heavenly host. Here upon earth, our praise is to some degree an effort. We study, and we toil, to give unto God the glory due unto his name. And this is right. For here, in time, our religion must be to some extent a race and a fight. There are obstacles to a perfect service which arise from our own indwelling sin, and from the unfavorable circumstances in which we are placed in a world like this. And among these unfriendly circum- stances is the fact, that here in time God does not reveal himself in the fulness of his glory. We see him through a glass darkly. But when we shall " come and appear be- fore God"; when we shall behold the Object of worship precisely as he is, it will cost us no effort to worship him. Our adoration will become spontaneous and irrepressible. For the Object itself prompts the service. We shall not need to urge our hearts up to the anthem. They will be drawn out by the magnetic attraction, the heavenly beanty of the Divine Nature. We have thus considered one of those eternal realities which are not seen as yet. We have meditated upon that special manifestation which God makes of himself to the worshippers in the upper sanctuary. Guided by the state- THE FUTUKE VISION OF GOD. 79 ments of Scripture, which are also confirmed by the in- stinctive desires of the renewed heart, as well as bj the constitutional workings of the human mind, we have seen that the great object of our love and our worship will not always be seen through a glass darkly. The Christian will one day behold God face to face. Man was originally made to live in the immediate presence of his Maker. The account that is given us in the opening chapters of Gene- sis shows that Adam's intercourse with God was much like that which the angels enjoy. And is it reasonable to suppose that when the Creator had produced a creature in his own likeness, and had endowed him with holiness and knowledge, and made him capable of a blessed companion- ship with himself, he would then have thrust him away from his presence and shut him out of his communion ? In the pagan mythology, Saturn devours his own children ; but that glorious and blessed Being " of whom the whole family in heaven and earth is named," delights to communicate the fvJn'^ss of his own joy to his offspring. Nothing but apostasy and rebellion have interrupted this primeval in tercourse between man and God. When guilty Adam heard the voice of the Lord God walking in the garden in the cool of the day, he hid himself. Previously to this, that voice had had no terrors for him. When, therefore, the restoration shall have taken place, and man shall have been reinstated in his original condition, the old inter- course will be resumed. The same direct vision, the same social converse, the same condescending manifestation, will be granted and enjoyed. "1 heard a great voice out of heaven, saying, Behold, the tabernacle of God is with men, and he will dwell with them, and they shall be his people, and God himself shall be with them, and be their God." In concluding the examination of this passage of Scrip- ture up to this point — for other important points still 80 THE FUTURE VISION OF GOD. remain to be considered — we remark, that it is the duty of the Christian to live in hojpe of the full vision of God in_ heaven. The apostle Paul, after saying that " the whole creation groaneth and travaileth in pain together " — in other words, that there seems to be, even in the material world, a craving expectation of something higher and better — adds, that even those "who have the first fruits of the Spirit groan within themselves, waiting for the adoption, that is to say, the redemption of the body" from death and corruption. And everywhere in his Epistles, he represents the true believer as living in hope. " We are saved by hope," he says, " but hope that is seen is not hope ; for what a man seeth, why doth he yet hope for ? " This hope extends, of course, to everything compre- hended in the Christian life and experience. It is a hope that temptation will one day wholly cease ; that trials and sorrows will all disappear ; that sin will be entirely cleansed from t,.ii£ soul, and that perfect peace and joy w'll be its portion. But our subject directs our thoughts to a single particular — to the hope, namely, that we shall one day be- hold God face to face. That good and gracious Being whom we have never seen ; whose very existence we have held to by an act of pure faith without sight ; who has never spoken a word to us that was audible by the out- ward ear ; who has never given us any visible sign or evi- dence of his existence — that Being to whom we have com- mitted our eternal interests, and our eternal destiny, without having either seen his shape or heard his voice ; to whom we have lifted up our hearts in the hour of afflic- tion, and in the watches of the night, while yet no visible ray has emanated from his throne and his presence ; to whom in his temple, and in our own closets, we have endeavored to render a reverential homage and service, THE FUTURE VISION OF GOD. 81 though we have had no visible object to bow down be- fore — that invisible, inaudible, intangible, and utterly un- searchable Spirit, we shall one day behold face to face.. It is not the intention or the desire of our God to keep his children forever at this remote distance from him. He cannot wisely make such miraculous manifestations of him- self to his Church in every age, as he has made to them in some ages ; and he cannot appear in celestial glory here in these fogs and vapors of earth. A' perpetual miracle would defeat its own end. The rejecters of the truth con- nected with the miracle would soon become accustomed to it, as they did under the miraculous dispensation ; " for though Christ had done so many miracles before them, yet they believed not on him " (John xii. 37). And even the partially-sanctified people of God themselves would receive a fainter and fainter impression from it. The celestial manifestation of God is therefore in reserve, and we must hope and wait for it. Let us, therefore, as Moses did, "endure as seeing him who is invisible." For we shall not be called to endure forever. There is a time coming when faith shall be turned into sight ; when that star whose beams have never yet fallen upon our vision, but which has all the while been shining in its glory, shall break through the dusky air, and we shall see it, and re- joice in its everlasting radiance and gleam. " Then ' Glory to the Father, to the Son, And to the Holy Spirit,' rings aloud Throughout all Paradise ; that with the song The spirit reels, so passing sweet the strain. And what it sees is equal ecstasy : One universal smile it seems of all things ; Joy past compare ; gladness unutterable ; Imperishable life of peace and love ; Exhaustless riches, and unmeasured bliss." ' •Dante: Paradise, XXVII. 1-9. SERMON VI. GOD THE STRENGTH OF MAN. Psalm Ixxxiv. 5. — " Blessed is the man whose strength is in Thee. Power and enjoyment are reciprocally related to each other. " To be weak is to be miserable," said Satan to Beelzebub, as they lay weltering in the floods of tempes- tuous fire, after their expulsion from heaven ; and it is a truth, though falling from satanic lips. He who is filled with a sense of weakness and danger is unhappy ; but he who is conscious of inward power and security is blest. It is a universal fact that the enjoyment of any being is pro- portioned to his strength, and partakes of the nature of it. If his is an inferior and uncertain strength, his is an in- ferior and uncertain happiness. If his confidence is in liis health and his wealth, then his enjoyment is of an earthly nature, and will endure only while he lives upon earth. If his is a superior and permanent strength, his is a superior and permanent enjoyment. If the strength of a man is the eternal God, and the immutable truth that is settled in heaven ; if it is in spiritual and heavenly objects ; then his happiness is heavenly, and will endure forever. The Divine Word, however, throws all these lower species out of the account, and calls no man strong unless his strength is in God ; no creature happy unless he re- GOD THE STRENGTH OF MAN. 83 poses unwaveringly upon his Father in heaven. And this judgment of the Word of God is true altogether. For ought that pleasure to be denominated by so expressive a term as blessedness, which depends upon the fragile objects of sense and time, and which ceases altogether when the soul passes into another world ? Does that man know any- thing of true mental peace and satisfaction who merely buys and sells and gets gain ? Has he anything of heaven in his experience who makes himself his own end and his own strength, and finds in the hour of real trial — of af- fliction and of death, when flesh and heart fail — that God is not the strength of his heart and his portion forever ? The Bible does not look upon man and his happiness with man's weak eye. It takes its stand in the skies, far above the little theatre of this existence, and looks with the all- surveying glance of God. It contemplates man as an im- mortal creature who must live forever ; who needs com- munion with God, and love to him and from him, and trust in him, in order that the long eternity of his existence may have something to repose upon, and not be an un- supported aching void in which there is not a moment of genuine happiness, not a single element of peace. Con- sequently in giving an opinion and estimate, the Scriptures pay little attention to this short life of threescore years and ten. They measure by eternity. Man may deem himself happy if he can obtain what this life oft'ers, but the Bible calls him miserable — nay, calls him a fool — be- cause the time is very near when this whole earthly life itself will terminate. Man calls himself happy if he can grasp and cling to the objects of this world ; but the Word of God asserts that he is really wretched, because this world will soon be melted with fervent heat. Man flatters himself that all is well with him while he gratifies the flesh, and feeds the appetites of his corrupt nature ; but 84 GOD THE STEENGTH OF MAN. God asserts in thunder-tones that all is ill with him, be- cause his spirit is not fed with the bread that cometh down from heaven. God is on the throne, and looks down upon all the dwellers upon the face of the earth, and from his calm seat sees all their hurried, busy, and little movements — like those of ants upon the ant-hill — and he knows, and in his Word affirms, that however much they may seem to enjoy in their low sphere, and in their grovelling pursuits, they are nevertheless possessed of nothing like solid good in any degree, unless they look up to him from amidst the stir and dimness of earth, for a participation in the holi- ness and happiness of their Creator. He knows and affirms, that no man whose strength is not in Him, whose supports and portion are merely temporal and earthly, is blessed. Man is a creature of time, and sustains relations in it. He is also a creature made for eternity, and sustains cor- responding relations. Let us then look at him in these two different worlds, that we see how he is blessed in them both if his strength is in God ; and how he is unblest in them botli if his strength is not in God. I. In the first place, man is in time, and in an earthly and transient state of being ; how will he be unblest in this life if his strength is not in God, and how will he be blest in this life if his strength is in God ? If man is ever to be happy without God, it must be in some such world as this. It must be in a material world, where it is possible to banish the thought of God and of re- sponsibility, and find occupation and a species of enjoyment in other beings and objects. If a creature desires to be happy away from God, and in opposition to his commandment, he must accomplish it before he goes into a spiritual world ; he must effect it amidst these visible and temporal scenes. This is his only opportunity. No sinful creature can be GOD THE STRENGTH OF MAN. 85 happy for a moment in the life to come. He must there- fore obtain before he dies all the enjoyment he will ever obtain. Like Dives, he must receive all his " good things " here. If man can ever dispense with the help and favor of God, and not feel his need of him, it must be w^hen he is fully absorbed in the cares and interests of this life, and when he can centre his affections on father and mother, on houses and lands. Standing within this sphere, he can, if ever, be without God and not be miserable. For he can busy his thoughts, and exert his faculties, and send forth his affections, and thus find occupation away from his Creator. And hence it is, that there is so much of sinful pleasure in this life, while there is none of it in the next. In this material world a man can make himself his own end of living, and not be constantly wretched. But in the spiritual world where God and duty must be the principal subjects of reflection, no man can be supremely selfish without being supremely miserable. Take therefore your sinful enjoyment in this life — ye who hanker after this kind of pleasure — for it is impossible to find any of it in the next life. "Rejoice, O young man, in the days of thy youth, and let thy heart cheer thee in the days of thy youth, and walk in the ways of thine heart, and in the sight of thine eyes : but know thou that for all these things God will bring thee into judgment.'' Still, even this life, with all its sinful enjoyment, is not a blessed life for a worldly man. There is a heaven-wide difference between earthly pleasure and blessedness. The worldling sees dark days and sad hours, when he is compelled to say, even in the midst of all that this life gives him : " I am not a blessed being ; I am not peaceful and free from apprehension ; I am not right with God. And I know that I never shall be, in this line of life. Heaven is impossible for me, until I love God more than I 86 GOD THE STRENGTH OF MAN. love myself and the world." All serious reflection tends to destroy the happiness of such a man. He cannot com- mune an instant with his own heart, without beginning to feel wretched. Thinking makes him miserable. He has fastened his affections, which can really find no rest but in an infinite good, upon gold, honor, and pleasure. But he knows in his reflecting moments that liis gold will perish, and if it did not, that he must ultimately grow weary of it. He knows that worldly honor and sensual enjoyment will flee away from his dying bed ; and that even if they did not, they could be no solace to him in that awful crisis of the soul. He knows in these honest and truthful hours that the chief good is not his, because he has not made God his strength and portion. And although, because of his alienation from God and servile fear of him, and his dislike of the warfare with selfishness and sin which the gospel requires, he may rush away even fuither than ever from God, and cling with yet more intensity to the objects of this life, he is nevertheless attended with an obscure feeling that all is not well with his soul. That old and solemn question : " Is it well with thy soul ? " every now and then peals through him, and makes him anxious. But what kind of pleasure is that which can thus be inter- rupted ? How can you call a being blessed who is standing upon such a slippery place ? A man needs to feel not only happy, but safety happy — happy upon solid and immov- able grounds — in order to be truly happy. Probably Dives himself sometimes had a dim intimation of the misery that was to burst upon him when he should stand before God. Probably every worldly man hears these words said to him occasionally from the chambers of his conscience : " You are comparatively at ease now-, but this ease cannot be permanent. You know, or may know, that you will have no source of peace in death and the judg- GOD THE STRENGTH OF MAN. 87 ment. Your portion is not in God, and therefore you cannot rest upon liim when flesh and heart faih" But there are other objects in this world in which man endeavors to find strength and happiness, besides gold and lionor and sensual pleasure. He seeks it in the delights of home, and in the charities and sympathies of social life. And we grant that the enjoyment which these bestow upon him is great. But it is not the greatest, and it is not eternal. Christ has said: "He that loveth father and mother, son or daughter, more than me, is not worthy of me, and cannot be my disciple." This affirmation of our Saviour has its ground in the nature of the human spirit, and its relation to God. However much we may love our kindred and friends, they cannot take the place of God ; they cannot be an object of supreme affection. However much, in our idolatrous fondness, we may try to make them our hope and portion, we shall discover sooner or later that they cannot meet the higher and eternal demands of our complex being — that they cannot satisfy that immortal part which God intended should find its strength and blessedness in him alone. There are capabilities of wor- ship and adoration and heavenly service given us by crea- tion, and they ought to be awakened, renovated, set in action, and met by their appropriate object — God only wise, God over all blessed forever. Conscience, moreover, the law of our moral existence, is solemn in its command : " Thou shalt love the Lord thy God with all thy heart, and all thy might." It forbids us to live solely and absorbingly in the lower sphere of social relations, and bids us to soar above and expend our choicest affection upon the Father of spirits — the Infinite One whose we are, and whom we are bound to serve. The original constitution of our souls interferes with the attempt to be happy in the social and domestic circles without God ; and although conscience 88 GOD THE STRENGTH OF MAN. cannot conquer our folly and our sin, it can and does disquiet and harass our minds. But even if man could be perfectly happy in the strength and solace springing from his domestic and social relations, he would be so but for a short time. The enjoyment com- ing from them is continually fluctuating. The lapse of years produces great modifications of the family, even here upon earth. The child grows up to manhood, and the parent passes into old age. The child becomes a parent himself, and is engrossed in new relations and cares; while the parent dies more and more to earthly ties, and when his spirit returns to God who gave it he is done with earth and all its interests. In the kingdom of God they neither marry nor are given in marriage, but are as the angels of God. These temporal earthly relationships of father and son, wife and child, cannot, therefore, be relied upon as the everlasting foundation of trust and joy. They are merely preparatory to the higher relationships which we must sustain in a future life, or be miserable. Furthermore, even in this life they are continually break- ing up. Death comes. Friend after friend is continually departing, and the grief at the loss is as poignant as the joy in the possession. The happiness that is dependent upon even a true and tried friend is transient and uncertain. It lasts not long, for the grave removes him from our eyes, and we are left to mourn. The world that was bright because he was in it, has grown dark because he has left it. We turn away in brokenness of heart, and feel in these sad moments, if at no other time, that we need a more abiding Friend ; that we need that friendship of God by which earthly friendships are consecrated and ennobled ; that we need him for the strength of our heart when he putteth lover and friend far from us. And as we leave the lesser circle of kindred and friends, and look forth into GOD THE STRENGTH OP MAN. 89 that of society around us, we find that there is continual change. If our happiness is entirely dependent upon the world around us, and we have made its interests and pur- suits our main support, we discover that the world itself lias no permanency. One generation goes and another comes. Where is the generation that crowded these streets, transacting business and absorbed in earthly pursuits, fifty years ago ? All that whirl is hushed in death ; and fifty years hence, the same inquiry will be put respecting the noise and bustle that now roars and chokes in these ave- nues of business and pleasure. Man and man's life is the shadow of a shadow. Everything in him and about him is in a perpetual flux toward eternity, and the immediate presence of God. He cannot, if he would, stop the course of that upon which he has made his happiness to depend, but is hurried along into a mode of existence where there is no change, and but one engrossing Object, even God himself. Can strength, peaceful strength, be predicated of us, then, if we have no standing-place but that which is every in- stant gliding like quicksand from under our feet ? Can true happiness be afiirmed of our souls, if their supreme good is in that which is leaving us every day, and which we shall leave entirely behind us when we die ? We have thus seen that it cannot be said : " Blessed is the man whose strength is in wealth, or in reputation, or in pleasure, or in kindred and friends, or in the inter- ests and pursuits of social and civil life." That it can be said of man even in this transient and sorrowful life, and amidst these unsatisfying and fleeting relationships : " Blessed is the man whose strength is in God," needs but little proof. " Thou wilt keep him in perfect peace whose soul is stayed on Thee," is the aflSrmation of one who knew by his own personal experience. " Great peace have all they that love thy law," says one who tried it for him- 90 GOD THE STEENGTH OF MAN. self. He whose supreme strength is in God will be happy in any relation that he sustains, and in any world in which God may please to put him. He who is strong in the Lord, and has him for his portion, cannot be made miserable. If he should be seai, on an errand to the spirits in hell, he would go fearlessly, arici^here would be nothing in that world of woe that could disturb his holy and af- fectionate trust in God. A man whose heart is fixed, trusting in the Lord, is absolutely independent of the whole creation. His wealth may take wings and fly away ; but the cheering presence of his Maker and Saviour is in his heart still. Worldly good he may, or may not have ; but the approbation of God destroys all regard for it, and all sense for it, even as the sunlight by its bright effulgence annihilates moonlight and starlight. He may be very happy in his domestic and social relations ; but this happi- ness will have its deeper foundation and source in God. It will not be a forbidden enjoyment that never goes be- yond the earthly objects of his affection, and centres solely and supremely in the wife or the child. As a father or a son, as a neighbor or a citizen, he will look up to his Heavenly Father — to his Father in Christ, " of whom the whole family on earth and heaven is named " — as the blessed ground of all these relationships, and in whose glory they should all be merged. Therefore, amidst all change which is incident to them, lie will be unmoved, because God is immutable ; he will be strong as they reveal their weakness and perishing nature, because his primal strength is in God ; and he will be blessed as the sources of his earthl}^ enjoyment fail, because God is his chief good. It is because man's hope and strength are not in God, that his enjoyment of created good is so unsatisfactory and uncertain. " Godliness hath the promise of the life that GOD THE STRENGTH OF MAN. 91 now is, as well as that which is to come ; " and if all men were godly, the earth would be fairer around them, and more full of promise and of hope. The elder Edwards thus describes the change which came over the visible material world after his coj^ersion, and as his sense of divine things increase(i,^^The appearance of everything was altered ; there seemed to be, as it were, a calm sweet cast, or appearance of divine glory in almost everything. God's excellency, his wisdom, his purity and love, seemed to appear in everything ; in the sun, and moon, and stars ; in the clouds and blue sky ; in the grass, flowers, trees ; in the water, and all nature ; Avhich used greatly to fix my mind. I often used to sit and view the moon for continu- ance ; and in the day, spent much time in viewing the clouds and sky, to behold the sweet glory of God in these things ; in the meantime singing forth with low voice, my contemplations of the Creator and Redeemer. And scarce anything among all the works of nature was so sweet to me as thunder and lightning ; formerly nothing had been so terrible to me. Before, I used to be uncommonly terri- fied with thunder, and to be struck with terror when I saw a thunder-storm rising ; but now, on the contrary, it re- joiced me. I felt God, so to speak, at the first appearance of a thunder-storm; and used to take the opportunity, at such times, to fix myself in order to view the clouds, and see the lightning play, and hear the majestic and awful voice of God's thunder, which oftentimes was exceedingly entertaining, leading me to sweet contemplations of my great and glorious God." ' If the supreme and positive love of God pervaded and gave color to our love of his creatures, the creation would be a source of more heartfelt pleasure than it now is. We ' Life of Edwards. Works, I. p. 20. 92 GOD THE STEENGTH OF MAN. should then cherish a subordinate and proper affection for earth, and while it brought us the enjoyment that per- tains to the lower sphere of the created and the finite, it would be still more valuable as the means of introducing our souls into the presence and enjoyment of God. Worldly pleasure if experienced too keenly and too long renders the heart intensely selfish. Beware of long-continued and uninterrupted earthly happiness. There is no heart so cal- lous, so flinty, so utterly impenetrable to holy impressions, as that of a man of pleasure. Said Burns, who knew : " I waive the quantum of the sin, The hazard of concealing ; But 0, it hardens all within, And petrifies the feeling." Merely earthly enjoyment, moreover, sates and disgusts the rational mind of man. For this, notwithstanding its apostasy, has at times a dim intimation that there is, some- where and somehow, a higher enjoyment and a genuine joy that never cloys, but which, as it runs through the fibres of the soul, carries with it an invigorating and appetizing virtue that produces a hunger and thirst after still more enrapturing influxes. Man enters with too much hilarity, and too absorbing a passion, into the enjoyment of this life, unless he is tempered and tranquillized by a superior affection for an Infinite Being. If without strength and hope in God as his ultimate and highest good, he is often filled with a happiness that is too tumultuous and stormy to be enduring. A storm cannot continue long, either in the world of matter or of mind. Hence, in these hours of excited fermenting revelry, there is often a faint intimation given to the soul, like the premonitory tremor before the earthquake, that its enjoyment is short-lived. The deeper part of the man, the solemn conscience, sends off tidings that it has no participation in this pleasure ; that, on the GOD THE STRENGTH OF MAN. 93 contrary, moral indignation and moral fear are the emo- tions down below, whatever may be the hilarity on the surface. But if, while that part of our nature which was made to take pleasure in temporal things is experiencing it, that other portion of our nature whose appropriate ob- ject is God is also having its wants met in Him, there is a tranquil and rational enjoyment diffused through the whole man. If the celestial world sends down its radiance into the terrestrial, there is everywhere a serene and pleas- ant light. Writers upon physical geography tell us that the presence of a mountain renders the atmosphere cooler in summer, and warmer in winter. A large mass of matter equalizes the temperature. In like manner, if in the horizon and atmosphere of our souls there is the presence of the Infinite God, there will be serenity, and no violent changes. In the summer of prosperity, the soul will be soberly joyful ; in the winter of adversity, the soul will be serenely content. For the presence of the Eternal will be the main element of happiness in each instance ; and He is always present and always the same. Though, therefore, in the lower region of earthly objects and relations there be darkness, and storm, and tempest, in the higher region of spiritual objects and heavenly affections there is a still air, and the light of the heaven of heavens is shining in its strong effulgence. And even when the clouds gather thick and black in the horizon of our mortal life, and there is mourning because its objects are passing away, this lucid light of heaven will steal into the black mass, and drive out the blackness, and drench these clouds with its radiance, and suffuse all along the horizon with the colors of the skies. II. We have thus considered man as belonging to time, and found that he is miserable if his strength and hope are in the creature, and that he is blessed if his strength 94 GOD THE STRENGTH OP MAN. and hope are in God. Let lis now, in the second place, contemplate man as belonging to eternity and sustaining relations to the invisible world, and see that the same assertion holds true, and commends itself with a yet deeper emphasis to our reflections. Although the hour of death is, strictly speaking, a part of time, yet it is so closely joined to eternity that it may practically be considered as belonging to it. Observation proves that there are few conversions at the eleventh hour ; and we may assume, as a general fact, that as a man is when lying upon his death-bed, so will he be forever and ever. For although it is possible, even at this late hour, to have the relation of the soul towards God changed from that of the rebel to that of the child, the possibility rarely becomes a reality. In that solemn hour, even if there be not the stupor of disease, but the soul is stung with remorse, and the awful idea of eternity throws a horror of great darkness over the whole inner man, it is extremely difficult to collect the mental powers, and with a clear eye look at sin, and with a sincere heart repent of it, and with an energetic faith trust in Christ's blood. If the man has gone through life, in spite of all the obstacles which a merciful God throws in his path to perdition, and in op- position to the repeated monitions of conscience and con- victions by the Holy Spirit, without experiencing that change which alone fits him for an entrance into the king- dom of God, there is small hope that this great change will be wrought amidst the weakness and languor of disease, or the perturbation and despair of the drowzed soul which has only half awaked to know its real condi- tion and tlie brink where it stands. "We may therefore affirm, generally, that as a man is when overtaken by his last sickness, so will he. be forevermore. We may there- fore affirm, that practically the hour of death is for man GOD THE STRENGTH OF MAN. 95 a part of the eternal state. Time and eternity here blend in the experience and destiny of the soul. How un blest, then, is a man, if in this last hour of time which is also the first hour of eternity, his strength is not in God. How wretched is he, if in these first moments of his final state, the farm, or the merchandise, or the book, or the father, or the child, or the wife, or the pleasures of social life, or the interests of civil life, are his only portion and support. He has enjoyed, it may be, much that springs from these temporal relations, and life in the main has gone well with him. Yet, as from the vantage-ground of this death-bed he looks back upon life, he sees as he could not while amidst its excitement and fascination, that after all it has been a " fitful fever," and that he is not to " sleep well " after it. He perceives with a vividness and certainty that he never felt before, that he has been a sinful man because in relation to God he has been a supremely selfish and idolatrous man. And now he feels that he is a lost man, because his strength is not in God, in the slightest degree. * He finds that he has no filial love for his Maker. In the Scripture phrase, he is " alienated " from God, and " without " God, both in this world and in the next. He finds that the account be- tween himself and his Maker is closed, and that God is entering into judgment with him, and bidding him look for his portion and his strength where he has sought it all the days of his sinful life. He hears those solemn and righteous words which are addressed only to those who have despised and rejected the offer of mercy : " Because I have called and ye refused ; I have stretched out my hand, and no man regarded ; but ye have set at nought all my counsel, and would none of my reproof ; I also will laugh at your calamity ; I will mock when your fear cometh. Then shall they call upon me, but I will not answer ; they 96 GOD THE STRENGTH OF MAN. 8hall seek me early, but they shall not find me." * O my fellow man, if in your dying hour you cannot look up to God, and say : " Thou art the strength of my heart, and my portion forever," you are an unblest creature, and there is nothing but misery for you in eternity. Your spirit when it leaves the body will begin an everlasting wander- ing away from God. It will want to wander, and hide from his sight. It does not love him here and now, and therefore cannot abide his presence there and then. How full of wretchedness must such a spirit be when it enters the other world, where there is but one Object for any creature to lean upon, and yet that Object in relation to it is one of dislike, distaste, antipathy, and hostility. It must, therefore, turn in upon its own emptiness and guilt, because it has not made Christ its refuge, and God its strength. The impenitent death-bed is a dark scene, and the im- penitent eternity is the blackness of darkness. Let us turn from it to the believer's death-bed, which is a bright scene, and to the believer's eternity which is light inacessible and full of glory. When the soul V^iich has really made God its strength is summoned to leave the body, and enter into the endless life, it is strong — stronger than ever; and happy — happier than ever. It is strong ; for it does not rest upon anything that perishes, and tlie everlasting arms are beneath. Though the fainting flesh and heart fail, yet God is the strength of the heart. The soul knows that it is departing from the objects amidst which it has liad its existence, but not from the one great Being in whom it has lived somewhat holily and tranquilly on earth, and will now continue to live forever. Earthly relationships are disappearing, and earthly bands are breaking away from • Compare, also, Ps. lii. 7. GOD THE STEENGTH OF MAN. 97 it, but the relationship of a child of God will ever belong to it, and the hopes and aspirations of this relation which it has been feebly but faithfully cherishing in an imperfect state are to gather force and intensity forever. Such a soul does not feel that its strength is waning, but that it is wax- ing stronger and mightier ; and so with tranquillity, per- haps with triumph — " a mortal paleness on the brow, a glory in the soul " — it goes into the presence of God. As in the hour of death, we have seen that the kindling flashes of hell appear in the soul of the unpardoned, so the first streaks and rays of celestial glory stream through the penitent soul while it is leaving the body. It has a keener sense of holy enjoyment, calmer peace pervades it, and the endless heaven is begun. It feels, in the phrase of Leigh- ton, that "the Eternal is now the internal," that the glorious God is its strength and portion, and that the in- finite heart of God is its home. It has discovered " the beauty and excellency of foi'giveness — as it is with God, as it is in his gracious heart, in his eternal purpose, in the blood of Christ, and in the promise of the gospel." It has no fear, and no wants unsupplied. With calmness, or witli rapture, it commends itself into the hands of its God and Redeemer, and " flights of angels sing it to its rest " in the bosom of the Father. To Christian believers, this subject is full of salutary in- struction. If God really is our strength, we should not look with fear and anxiety into eternity, and we should not be unhappy here in time. It urges us, therefore, to a careful examination that we may know where our strength actually lies. And we need not seek long for this knowl- edge. The current of our thoughts and afFections, if God is our portion, will become daily a stronger flood. We shall live as strauigors and pilgrims, looking for a better country. Our b.Q^rts will not rest in houses, or lands, or 5. 98 GOD THE STRENGTH OF MAN. honor, or friends, as their firmest resting-place, but in the living God. AVe shall die daily to the power of earthly- things, and live unto Christ. We shall be gradually weaned from earth, and with more earnest desires look for heaven. We shall enjoy this life with chastened and sober pleasure, but our transport and exultation will be awakened by the "power of an endless life," by the love and glory of God. SEKMON YII. THE GLORIFICATION OF GOD. Isaiah xlii. 8. — " I am the Lord; that is my name: and my glory will I not give to another, neither my praise to graven images. " The name of a thing, provided it is a true and adequate one, denotes the essential nature of that thing. Wlien a chemist has discovered a new substance, he is, of course, compelled to invent a new name for it ; and he seeks a term that will indicate its distinctive properties. When, for instance, that gas which illuminates our streets and dwellings was first discovered, it was supposed to be the constituent matter of heat, and the name phlogiston was given to it — a name that signifies inflammability. But when Cavendish afterwards more carefully analyzed its nature and properties, and discovered that it enters very largely into the production of water, it received the name of hydrogen. In each of these instances the term was in- tended to denote the intrinsic nature and properties of the tiling. We are informed, in the second chapter of Genesis, that when the Lord God had formed every beast of the field, and every fowl of the air, " He brought them unto Adam to see what he would call them ; and whatsoever Adam called every living creature, that was the name thereof. And Adam gave names to all cattle, and to the fowl of the air, and to every beast of the field." This was 100 THE GLORIFICATION OF GOD. before the apostasy of man, when the human mind pos- sessed an intuition of both human and divine things that was superior to its subsequent knowledge; and hence those original denominations which Adam gave to the objects of nature were expressive of their interior and es- sential characteristics. Aristotle began the investigation of natural history, and his successors, for two thousand years, have diligently followed up the line of investigation ; but that ethereal vision of the unf alien and sinless creature who had just come from the plastic hand of the Creator, and who possessed the unmutilated and perfect image of the Deity, penetrated further into the arcana of nature than have the toilsome investigations of his dim-eyed posterity. That nomenclature which Adam originated at the express command of God, and which the pen of inspiration has recorded as a fact, though it has not specified it in detail, must have been pertinent and exhaustive. The names were the things, the natures, themselves.' God also has a name — not given to him by Adam, or any finite creature, but self-uttered, and self-imposed. "When Moses, in Mount Horeb, after the vision of the flaming bush, said unto God : "Behold, when I come unto the children of Israel, and shall say unto them, the God of your fathers hath sent me unto you ; and they shall say unto me. What is his name ? what shall I say unto them ? " the reply of God was : " I am that I am : and thus shalt thou say unto the children of Israel, I am hath sent me unto you." The denomination which God prefers for himself, the name which he chooses before all others as indicative of his nature, is I am, or its equivalent, Jehovah. Whenever the word Jehovah is employed in the Old Tes- ' Plato (Cratylus, 390) represents Socrates as saying that ' ' the right imposition of names is no easy matter, and belongs not to any and every- body, but only to him who has an insight into the nature of things." THE GLORIFICATION OF GOD. 101 tament as the proper name of God, it announces the same doctrine of his necessary existence that was taught to Moses when he was commanded to say to his people that I am had sent him unto them. The English name for the Deity, our word God, indicates that he is good — making prominent a moral quality. The Greek and Latin world employed a term (^eo if compared with that of the holiest man 148 THE CEEATURE HAS that ever lived, is ethereal, slry-tempered, and able to re- sist the severest assaults of temptation and of Satan. Milton represents the ruined archangel as starting back abashed, at the sight of the pure and stainless chernbs whom God had placed to guard our first parents from the Aviles of their adversary. " Abashed the devil stood, and felt how awful goodness is." These cherubim before a fellow-creature, and in relation to a fellow-creature, were indeed strong and mighty. But in relation to the infinite and eternal God, they were nothing. Their ethereal and wondrous virtue, in comparison with the ineffable and tran- scendent excellence of the Supreme, was vanity. "He chargeth his angels with folly." This, these holy and blessed spirits feel ; and they too, like the weakest man upon earth struggling with temptation and faint with fatigue, humbly adore that God only wise, and only good, and only mighty, " of whom, and through whom, and to whom are all things." But how slight is our humility, in comparison with that of these high and blessed spirits before the throne of God ! Pride is continually rising in our hearts over a holiness that is exceedingly imperfect, being mixed with sin ; over a holiness that from beginning to end is the product of God's grace within our souls. How elated we sometimes are over one meagre, shrivelled excellence ! If we per- fectlv obeyed the mandate of our Lord in the text, such an emotion as vain-glory would never be experienced by us. Let us then ponder our Savior's theory of creature- merit more than ever. We are " unprofitable," servants, even if we should render a perfect obedience. If our faith in Christ's atonement were so perfect that it should consume us with zeal for him and his cause, we should be unpi-ofitable servants, and bring him under no obligations to us. If our dependence upon the grace of his Holy NO ABSOLUTE MERIT. 149 Spirit were so implicit and entire, that it sliould enable us to keep perfectly all his statutes and commandments, we should still be unprofitable servants. We should still be un- der an infinite obligation to him for his life-blood poured out for the expiation of our guilt, and for the gracious in- fluence of the Holj Spirit bj which our sanctification is effected. But we have not done all that is commanded us. Our faith in our Redeemer is very weak and imperfect. We know comparatively little, of the virtue there is in his blood to cleanse the guilty soul, and to impart to it the calm confidence of justification before God. We know little, comparatively, of the power of the Divine Com- forter to strengthen the will, to sanctify the heart, and to bring the whole soul into captivity to the obedience of Christ. Our experience of the gospel is very stinted and meagre, in comparison with the fulness, richness, and freeness of its provisions. Such servants as we, so far from being " profitable," can with difficulty be called " faithful." Suppose that the Master should address us with the words, " Well done, good and faithful servant," should we not feel like saying to him, " Lord, when have we been faithful ; what hast thou seen in us that renders us worthy of such an address ? " 3. And this leads to a third and final inference from the subject, namely, that God does not require man to be a "profitable" servant, but to be b. faithful servant. In the last great day, Christ will say to his true disciples, " Well done, good and faithful servant, enter thou into the joy of thy Lord." God does not demand from his creatures a service that must be rendered from an independent position, that must be performed by a self-subsistent power, and that will bring him under obligation to the person so rendering it. Everywhere his command to the 150 THE CREATURE HAS creature is : " Be strong in the Lord, and the power of his might. Trust in the Lord, and do good. Work out your salvation with fear and trembling, for it is God that work- eth in you both to will and to do. He that trusteth in his own heart is a fool. Cursed is the man that trusteth in man, and maketh flesh his arm." Such injunctions and declarations as these imply that man must serve God by leaning upon him ; and that he must give back to God that which God has first given to him. The servants, in the parable, did not first create the five talents, or the ten talents, independently of their lord, and then make them over to him. He gave them the talents, and required simply a right use and improvement of them. Thus is it, in a still higher sense, in reference to man and his Maker. Not only are the talents created and bestowed, but, as we have seen, the very inclination and ability to make a right employment of them issues from the same boundless source. " We are not sufficient of ourselves to think any thing as of ourselves ; all our sufficiency is of God." It is, therefore, a true and proper supplication that Augustine puts up, when he says to God : " Give what thou commandest, and command what thou wilt." This corresponds with the Psalmist's promise : " I will run in the way of thy commandments when thou shalt enlarge my heart." The "faithful" servant is one who, feeling his entire dependence and helplessness, does not propose to labor in his own strength, and to proudly offer to God something from his own independent resources, but simply desires to lean upon God continually, to take hold of his strength, and thereby keep all his commandments, and glorify him in his body and spirit which are His. And what an easy task is this. The yoke is easy, and the burden is light. Our Maker does not command us to be strong in ourselves ; but to be strong in Him. He does NO ABSOLUTE MEEIT. 151 not require us to originate our own existence, to maintain ourselves in being, to labor upon an isolated and indepen- dent position, and to give unto him something that shall add to his essential happiness and essential glory. He furnishes everything, and only requires that we be faithful in employing his gifts. We are stewards of the manifold gifts of God ; and it is required of a steward, simply and only, that he be found faithful. Are we " faithful " servants ? Since we cannot be " profitable " servants, the only thing that remains for us is to employ the innumerable gifts and bounties of God with fidelity. Our time, faculties of mind and body, wealth, opportunities of influence — everything that goes to make up our personality, and everything that is connected with our existence here upon earth — the whole man, body, soul, spirit, possessions, and influence in every direction, must be conscientiously used to honor God and benefit man. This, too, in reliance upon God. Whoever is thus faithful, will be rewarded with as great a reward as if he were an independent and self-sustaining agent. Nay, even if man could be a " profitable " servant, and could bring God under obligation to him, his happi- ness in receiving a recompense under such circumstances would not compare with that under the present arrange- ment. It would be a purely mercantile transaction be- tween the parties. There would be no love in the service, or in the recompense. The creature would calmly, proudly, do his work, and the Creator would calmly pay him his wages. And the transaction would end there, like any other bargain. But now, there is affection between the parties — filial love on one side, and paternal love on the other ; dependence, and weakness, and clinging trust, on one side, and grace, and almighty power, and infinite fulness on the other. God rewards by jpromise and by covenant, 162 THE CEEATUEE HAS NO ABSOLUTE MEEIT. and not because of an absolute and original indebtedness to the creature of his power. And the creatui*e feels that he is what he is, because of the grace of God. There is no pride or boasting of heart, on his side. And the in- finite Creator, who needs nothing, and cannot be brought under bonds by any of the works of his hands, pours out the infinite fulness of his being and his blessedness upon a creature who rejoices in the thought that all that he is, is the work of Divine providence and grace, and all that he has accomplished, is the effect of God " work- ing in him to will and to do of his good pleasure." SERMON X. FAITH WITH AND WITHOUT SIGHT, John XX. 29. — "Jesus saith unto him, Thomas, because thou hast seen me, thou hast believed : blessed are they that have not seen, and yet have believed." This is one of the most comforting and encouraging passages in the whole Scripture, to a doubting and anxious Christian. There is one instance upon record, in which it proved a strong support and consolation in an hour of great need. The late Dr. Arnold of Rugby, one of the most serious-minded and earnest men which England has produced in this century, was suddenly summoned to meet death and judgment. In the midst of perfect health he was attacked with spasm of the heart, and learned that in a moment he would be called into the infinitely holy presence of his Maker. He knew what this meant ; for the immaculate purity of God was a subject that had profoundly impressed his spiritual and ethical mind. He felt the need of mercy at the prospect of seeing God face to face ; and as he lay upon his death-bed, still, thought- ful, and absorbed in silent prayer, all at once he repeated, firmly and earnestly : " And Jesus said unto him, Thomas, because thou hast seen me thou hast believed : blessed are they who have not seen, and yet have believed." ' Here is « Stanley : Life of Arnold, II. 283. 154 FAITH WITH AND an actual case in which a single text operated like a cordial ; and a case, too, in which there was no fanaticism or self-delusion. For Arnold's mind was highly intel- lectual, and its natural tendency apart from the influences of Christianity was to criticism and skepticism. He was an Aristotelian in his mental type, and in all his scholar- ship and culture. But after an earnest Christian life, in the hour of sudden death, from which the litany of the Church which he honored and loved prays, " Good Lord, deliver us," he pillowed his head upon this blessed decla- ration of the Redeemer, and went to his rest. Let us, therefore, approach this text and this subject as no mere abstraction, but as one that has actually been efficacious and consoling in the supreme hour of a celebrated man. This passage of Scripture suggests a comparison between faith aided by sight, and faith independent of sight. How does the faith of the Church in an age of miracles differ from its fajth when miracles have ceased ? In answering this question, we propose, in the first place, to notice some of the advantages that were enjoyed by those who dwelt under the miraculous dispensation ; and in the second place, to consider the advantages experienced since the days of miracles. 1. In the first place, then, what were some of the ad- vantages enjoyed by those who lived and served God in the times of miracle f They may all be summed up in the remark, that to a considerable extent the pious patriarch, and the pious Jew, and the first Christians, walked by sight. They believed because they saw. By this we do not mean that the ancient believer walked wholly by sight. I^oah was " warned of God of things not seen as yet." Abraham went out of his old home " not knowing whither he went." And that long list of worthies mentioned in the WITHOUT SIGHT. 155 eleventh chapter of Hebrews, is represented as acting without assistance from the objects of time and sense, in the particular instances that are specified. But we mean to say that, comparing these forerunners of ours with ourselves, and taking into the account the whole course of their lives, they were much Tnore aided by sight than we are. For it was an age and dispensation of supernaturalism. God was frequently breaking in upon the ordinary course of events, and proving his existence by his visible pres- ence. Who could doubt the doctrine of the Divine exist- ence, who could be an atheist, as he stood under Mount Sinai and heard a voice that shook the earth and heavens saying : " Thou shalt have no other gods before me ? " Who could query respecting the possibility of miracles, when he saw the waters of the Red Sea rising up like a wall upon each side of him ; when he saw a dead man re- vived to life upon touching the bones of Elisha ; when he saw, as Hezekiah did, the shadow go back ten degrees upon the sun-dial ; when he heard Christ call up Lazarus from the tomb, and when he looked down into the vacant sepulchre of the crucified Son of God ? Now there was something in this, unquestionably, that rendered faith in God's existence and God's power com- paratively easy to the ancient believer. The senses, when appealed to in this striking manner, by the exhibition of supernatural energy, are a very great aid to faith. Seeing is believing, Jacob, for example, must have found it no difficult thing to believe and trust in a Being who was every now and then speaking to him, directing him into new paths and places, watching over him, and delivering him from difficulties and dangers. Such a communica- tion as that which he received from the mouth of God in the wonderful dream at Bethel, must have filled him with 166 FAITH WITH AND an unwavering belief in both the existence and the kind- ness of God. How differently the believer of the present time is situ- ated, in this respect, it is needless to say. If we suppose miracles to have ceased with the age of the Apostles, then for eighteen hundred years there has been no exertion of miraculous power upon the part of God in the affairs of his Church. Generation after generation of Christians has come and gone, but no celestial sign has been given to them. They have believed that God is, and is the re- warder of those that diligently seek him, but they have never seen his shape nor heard his voice. They have had strong faith in the immortality of the soul, and the reality of a future life, but no soul has ever returned from the invisible world to give them ocular demonstration, and make their assurance doubly sure. In some instances, this reticence upon the part of God, this silence century after century, has produced an almost painful uncertainty, and wakened the craving for some palpable evidence of unseen realities. That interesting man, John Foster, is an example of this. " They never come back to tell us ; they never come back to tell us," was his passionate ejaculation upon thinking of the impenetrable cloud which envelops those who have departed this life. And all these spasmodic and baffled attempts of the false spiritualism of this day, and of former days, are another testimony to the craving natural to man for some miraculous tokens and signs. Skeptics contend that the miracle is irrational. But, cer- tainly, nothing is irrational for which there is a steady and constant demand upon the part of human nature. The hankering which man, in all ages and in all varieties of civ- ilization, has shown for the supernatural, proves the super- natural — as the universal hunger for bread proves that there is bread, and as the steady and continual thirst for WITHOUT SIGHT. 157 water proves that there is water. Otherwise, there is mockery in creation. Man as a religious being expects and must have some sensible signs from another world ; and therefore there has never been a religion of any gen- eral prevalence which has not had its miracles, pretended or real. The ancient Paganism, and the modern Moham- medanism, equally with the Jewish and Christian religions, claim authority upon the ground of celestial credentials. Our brethren, then, of the Patriarchal, the Jewish, and the Early Christian times, enjoyed this advantage over us. The aids of the senses were granted to them in the exer- cise of faith. They were not shut up as we are to a purely mental and spiritual act. " Because thou hast seen me, thou hast believed," might have been said to them all, as Christ said it to Thomas. II. But our Lord said to his doubting disciple : " Bles- sed are they who have not seen, and yet have believed." In this remark, he evidently implies that those who believe in him and his word without the aid of those sensible manifestations which were enjoyed by Thomas and his fellow-disciples, receive a greater blessing than they did. Let us then consider, in the second place, some of the advantages which the Church of God experiences in these latter days, when there is no miracle to assist their faith. 1. In the first place, believing without seeing is a stronger faith than believing because of sight ; and the stronger the faith, the greater the blessedness. If Thomas had put credit in the affirmation of the other disciples that they had seen the Lord, and had not insisted upon seeing for himself the print of the nails, and putting his finger into the print of the nails, it is evident that his faith in the Divine person and power of Christ would have been greater than it actually was. For Christ had foretold him, in common with his fellow disciples, that he was to 158 FAITH WITH AND be crucified, and on the third day after his cnicifixion would rise from the dead. Thomas had ah'eadj witnessed the crucifixion, and knew that this part of his Lord's prophecy was fulfilled. If, now, he had exercised an im- plicit confidence in the remainder of Christ's prophecy, the instant that the other disciples informed him that they had seen the Lord, he would have believed them. But his doubt, and his demand to see and touch the risen Lord, evinced that his faith in the power of Christ to rise from the dead, and make his promise good, was weak and wavering. It needed to be helped out by sight, and there- fore was not of so high and fine a type as it might have been. If we examine the Scriptures, we shall find that that faith is most pleasing to God, and is regarded by him as of the best quality, which leans least upon the creature, and most upon the Creator. Whenever man rests his whole weight upon God ; whenever the Christian trusts the bare word of his Lord and Master without any aid from other sources ; God is most honored. Take the case of Abra- ham. We have already noticed that in some respects he was not called to exercise so simple and entire a trust in the Divine word as we are. He lived in a period of miracle, and was the subject of miraculous impressions. But there were some emergencies, or critical points, in his life, when his faith was put to a very severe trial — times when, in the Scripture phrase, God "tempted" him. These were the instances in which his experience resem- bled more that of the modern than that of the ancient be- liever, and it is with reference to them that he is styled the " father of the faithful." Consider the trial of his faith when commanded to sacrifice Isaac. This child had been given to him by a miracle ; for Isaac was born as truly against the ordinary course of nature as Christ him- self. Abraham did indeed manifest doubt when God WITHOUT SIGHT. 159 promised him this son — showing that his faith at that point was infirm. But when the promise had been ful- filled, and Isaac was growing up before him in beauty and in strength, then he certainly knew that God is almight}^ and faithful to his word. Here, up to this point, the faith of the patriarch was resting very much upon sight and sen- sible things. But when he is suddenly commanded to take this very child who had been given to him by a miracle, and whose death would apparently nullify the Divine promise that in his seed all the kindreds of the earth should be blessed — when he is commanded, without a word of explanation, to sacrifice the son of promise, to obey was the highest conceivable act of pure faith. It did not rest at all upon any thing that could be seen. It was mere and simple confidence in the authority and power of God. He only knew that it was the Eternal Jehovah who had given him the awful order to put the sacrificial knife to the heart of his child, and the Eternal Jehovah must be obeyed at all hazards. This was the crowning act of faith upon the part of Abraham, and God put great honor upon him for it, because Abraham had put great honor upon God in hoping against hope, and following in the path of the Divine command without a ray of earthly light. Now, it is to this uncommon species, this high degree of faith, that the modern believer is invited. We have never seen a miracle. We have never witnessed the man- ifestations of God's supernatural power. We have only read the record of what He did, in this way, thousands of years ago. It is indeed an authentic record, yet it cannot, from the nature of the case, make such a startling impres- sion upon us as would the very miracles themselves — as would the very plagues of Egypt, the passage of the Eed Sea, the thunders of Sinai, the resurrection of Lazarus, 160 FAITH WITH AND the darkness, the quaking of the earth, the rending of the rocks and opening of the graves, that accompanied the Crucifixion. As Horace long ago said : " That which conies in by the ear does not affect us like that which comes in by the eye." Our faith must therefore rest more, comparatively, upon the simple authority of God. As an act, it must be more purely mental and spiritual. Inas- much as we see less with our outward vision, we must be- lieve more with the very mind and heart. And here is the greater strength and superiority of the modern faith. The inward powers of the soul are nobler than the five senses ; and their acts have more worth and dignity than the operations of the senses. Keason is a higher faculty than sense. If I believe in the power and goodness of God only because, and only when, I see their operation in a given instance, I do not give him any very high honor. There is no very great merit in following the notices of the five senses. An animal does this continually. But when I believe that God is great and good, not only when I have no special evidence from material phenomena, but when these phenomena seemingly teach the contrary ; when my faith runs back to the nature and attributes of God himself, and is not staggered in the least by any- thing that I see, then I give God great honor. I follow higher dictates than those of the five senses. I believe with the mind and heart; and with the mind and heart I make confession unto salvation. My faith is not sensuous, but spiritual. I rectify the teachings of mere time and sense, by the higher teachings of revelation and the spir- itual mind. That bold and eloquent North-African father, Tertul- lian, speaking of miracles, remarks : "I believe the mira- cle because it is impossible." ' This remark has been a ' Credo quia impossibile est. WITHOUT SIGHT. 161 theme for the wit of the unbeliever, because he under- stood Tertullian to say that he believed an absolute impos- sibility. This is not the meaning of the celebrated dictum. Tertullian means that he believes that a thing which is relatively impossible — which is impossible with man — is for this very reason possible with God. The Creator must have the power to work a miracle, from the very fact that the creature has no such power. For if God can never rise above the plane upon which a creature acts, then it is a natural inference that he is nothing but a creature himself. If a thing that is impossible for man is impossible for God also, what is the difference between God and man? "I believe, therefore," says Tertullian, " that the Creator is able to work a miracle, for the very reason that the crea- ture cannot. Its impossibility in respect to finite power, makes it all the more certain in respect to infinite. I be- lieve the thing in reference to God, because in reference to man and man's agency it is an utter impossibility." This is sound reasoning for any one who concedes the existence of God, and believes that he differs in kind from his creatures. Tertullian only utters in a striking paradox the thought of St. Paul, when he says to King Agrippa : " Why should it be thought a thing incredible with you that God should raise the dead?" and the affirmation of our Lord : " The things which are impossible with men are possible with God." ]^ow, this is the kind of faith that does not lean upon the five senses, but goes back to the rational idea and in- trinsic nature of God. The Supreme Being can do any- thing ; and whatever he does is wise and good. This is faith in its higher and stronger actings. The mind re- poses upon God simply and alone. It does not ask for the ways and means. All that it requires is, to be certain that the Divine promise has been given ; that God has 162 FAITH WITH AND pledged his word in a given instance ; and then it leaves all to Him. Whether the laws of nature work for or against the promised result is a matter of not the slightest consequence, provided that the Author of nature, who taketh up the isles as a very little thing, and holds the waters in the hollow of his hand, has said that it shall verily come to pass. This is the simplest and strongest form of faith. " Blessed are they who have not seen, and yet have believed." And this is the form of faith to which we are invited.' 2. In the second place, faith without sight honors God more than faith that is assisted by sight. We cannot show greater respect for any one than to take his bare word. In human circles it is the highest praise that can be ac- corded, when it is said of a person : " I have his word for it, and that is enough." If we are compelled in a given instance to go back of the man's word or promise, and scru- tinize his integrity or his pecuniary ability ; if we must doubt the person and look into his character or circum- stances, our faith in him is not of the strongest kind, and we do not put the highest honor upon him. There are comparatively few men of this first class and standing ; comparatively few of whom the whole community with one voice will say: "We want no examinations and no guarantees ; we trust the Qnan,' we have his word and promise, and this is sufficient." But when such men do stand forth year after year, strong and trustworthy because they fear God and love their neighbor as themselves, what an honor is put upon them by the implicit, unquestioning ' " To bottom ourselves upon the all-sufficiency of God, for the accom- plishment of such things as are altogether impossible to anything but that all-sufficiency, is faith indeed, and worthy of our imitation." — Owen's Sermon, on the Steadfastness of God's Promises, WITHOUT SIGHT. 163 confidence which is felt in them — by the faith in the mere person, without the sight of his ways and means. Precisely so is it with faith in God. Just so far as we withhold our confidence in him until we can see the wis- dom of his ways, just so far do we dishonor him ; and just in proportion as we trust in him because he is God, whether we can perceive the reasons of his actions or not, do we give glory to him. Suppose a sudden sorrow is sent from his hand, that appears wholly dark and inexplicable — that a missionary is cut down in the bloom of life, and in the midst of great usefulness among an unevangelized and de- graded population ; that a wise and kind father is taken away from a family that leans entirel}'^ upon him. If in these instances no questions are asked, and no doubts are felt or expressed ; if the Church and the children of God say with David : "I am dumb with silence because Thou didst it," what an honor do they render to God by such absolute confidence. And he so regards it, and accepts it, and rewards it. For the faith in such cases terminates upon the very personality and nature of God. It passes by all secondary . causes and agencies, and reposes upon the First Cause. Oftentimes our faith is of such a mixed character, that it honors the creature as much as the Creator. We exercise confidence, partly because God has promised, and partly because we see, or think we see, some earthly and human grounds for faith. For example, if we expect that the whole world will be Christianized, partly because of the Divine promises and prophecies, and partly because the wealth and civilization and military power of the earth are in the possession of Christian nations, we honor the creature in conjunction with the Creator ; and this is to dishonor him, for he says : " My glory will I not give to another." The faith of the Church is of the purest, high- 164 FAITH WITH AND est kind, only when she trusts solely and simply in the promise and power of her covenant God, and looks upon all the favoring earthly circumstances as results, not as supports, of this promise. The fact that Christian mis- sions are being aided very materially by the wealth, and civilization, and military power of the Protestant world, is not an independent ground of confidence that Christian missions will ultimately evangelize the earth. We must not put any earthly and human agency into equality and co-ordination with the Divine. The creature in itself is nothing ; and it derives all its efficiency from God, who is the first cause and last end of all things. Take away the promises, and purposes, and controlling agency of God, and where would be the wealth, the civilization, and mili- tary power of Protestant Europe and America ? If we rest our faith in a glorious future for our wretched world, upon what these can accomplish by an independent agency ; if we rest upon two arms, the arm of God, and the arm of flesh, our faith is infirm, and it does no real honor to our Maker. " Sufficient is Thine arm alone, and our defence is sure." And it will be one of the signs of that mightier faith which will herald the dawn of the millennium, when the Church, leaving its mixed confidence in the Creator and creature ; leaving its partial trust in wealth, civilization, arts, sciences, commerce, armies, and navies, shall settle down once more upon the one immutable ground of confi- dence — the word, and the power, and the pity of the Ever- lasting God. This was the mighty faith of the Early Church. The civilization of the Greek and Roman world was arrayed against them, and they could not lean upon it in conjunction with God, if they would. They were shut up to the mere power and promise of the Most High. They leaned upon God's hare artn. And what honor did they give Him in this ; and how did he honor them in return ! WITHOUT SIGHT. 165 We see, then, as the result of this discussion, that while our brethren of the Patriarchal, Jewish, and Early-Chris- tian eras found it easier, in some respects, to believe in God and unseen realities, by reason of the supernatural manifestations that were granted to them, we of these last times enjoy the privilege of exercising a faith that is more robust and firm because more purely spiritual, and a faith that puts more honor upon God. Provided we do rise above the clogs of the body and of sense ; provided we do exercise a simple unwavering confidence in God as God, in spite of all the outward infidelity of the day, and the more dangerous inward infidelity of our imperfect hearts ; we shall hear him saying to us : " Others have believed because they have seen : blessed are ye, because ye have not seen, and yet have believed." From this subject, it is evident that God is the sole object of faith. There is a difference between belief and faith ; between believing, and believing ^n, and on^ and u^on. We may believe a man ; we may believe an angel ; but we may believe in and on God alone. Faith is the re- cumbence, and resting, of the mind ; and the mind can find no rest in a creature. All creatures stand upon a level, so far as self-sufficiency is concerned ; and if we can- not find rest in ourselves, how can we in a fellow-worm. As we look into our own natures, and discover that they are ignorant, weak, and sinful, and then look around for what we lack, we shall never find it in a creature. All creatures are ignorant, weak, and finite. Only God is wise, mighty, and infinite. " Put not your trust in princes, nor in the son of man in whom there is no help. Happy is he that hath the God of Jacob for his help, whose hope is in the Lord his God." Furthermore, if God is the sole object of faith, then we must beware of a inixed or partial faith. We must not 166 FAITH WITH AND WITHOUT SIGHT. trust partly in God, and partly in his creatures. He will receive no divided honors. As in our justification by the atonement, we cannot trust partly in the blood of Christ, and partly in our own good works, so in our more general relation to God, our confidence must not rest upon any combination or union between Him and the works of his hands. We are told by St. Paul, and we well know, that Christ must be our sole atonement, and that we must not attempt to add to his finished oblation by our own suf- ferings, or deeds. Our absolution at the bar of justice must be no composite affair ; depending partly upon what our Substitute has done, and partly upon what we have done. The whole, or none, is the rule here. And so must be our faith in God. We must repose our whole weight upon Him alone. Anything short of this, dishonors that exalted and infinite Being who never enters into part- nership with his creatures ; that All-sufficient Being, of whom, and through whom, and to whom are all things. We know these things, happy are we if we do them. It is the highest accomplishment of the Christian life, actually and perfectly to believe in God in Christ. We are continually pulled back from this blessed and this mighty act of faith, by our detestable pride and creature- worship. It is a great art to desert the creature in all its forms, and live and move in our Creator and Redeemer. Especially is it a great, a divine art, to do this in reference to our sin and guilt. Who shall teach us, when remorse bites, and anxiety respecting the last account weighs us down — who shall teach us how to believe in Christ, the Lamb of God, without a scintilla of doubt, with an abso- lute and undivided confidence ? He Himself must do this. He is the author and the finisher of faith. SERMON XI. THE REALITY OF HEAVEN. John xiv. 2. — "In my Father's honse are many mansions: if it were not so, I would have told you." All Scripture is profitable, and conduces to the growth of the Christian. But some portions of it seem to be more particularly adapted than others to certain stages of his growth in the divine life, and certain experiences in his history. In the season of affliction, the heart loves to give itself utterance in the mourning and plaints of the afflicted Psalmist. In the hour of joy, it pours forth the flood of its thanksgiving and praise in the songs and an- thems of the joyful Psalmist. If the believer feels the need of instruction and exhortation, he turns to the ful- ness and earnestness of the apostolic Epistles. If he needs encouragement and hopefulness in view of the sin and mis- ery of the human race, he listens to the voice of the Prophets saying : " As the earth bringeth forth her bud, and as the garden causeth the things that are sown in it to spring forth : so the Lord God will cause righteousness and peace to spring forth before all nations." If, however, a singular interest attaches to any one por- tion of the Bible more than to others, it is found in the Gospels. These parts breathe a peculiar spirit, and exert 168 THE REALITY OF HEAVEN. an uncommon influence upon the soul. The Christian often resorts to them, for they bring him into the personal presence of his Lord, and his spirit burns within him as Christ talks with him on the way to heaven. He enters into the house with his Master, and walks with him by the sea shore, and hears words that come directly from the month of God incarnate. He is thus brought near to the Infinite Being without trembling or terror, because the in- finitude and glory are enshrouded in the garments of meekness and condescension. That awful fear of God as the Dread Unknown, which throws such a sombre color over the religions of the pagan world, is banished ; for Christ is the only begotten of the Father, and full of grace and truth. By means of the Gospels, the believer con- verses with the Eternal One, as a man converses with his friend. And of the Gospels, that of John is the most full of this kind of influence. He was the beloved disciple, and his is the beloved Gospel. He seems to have had granted to him a more direct and clear vision of the heart of the Redeemer, than was allowed to the other disciples. He leaned upon his breast at supper, and appears to have at- tained a fuller knowledge than did the others, of the mys- terious and fathomless nature of the God-man. l^ot only does this Gospel present to the contemplation of the believer themes of love and grace, but it everywhere offers to the human intellect the highest themes of truth and unsearchable wisdom. Its exordium is mysterious; revealing, in a way that no other part of Scripture does, the doctrine of the Triune God, and giving the fullest un- folding of the mystery that has yet been granted to the finite mind. And, running through the whole narrative, there is a series of high and deep disclosures concerning the being of God, and the problems of human destiny, that THE REALITY OF HEAVEN. 169 renders this Gospel the most profound of all books.' At the same time, while it is unsearchably mysterious, it is wonderfully soothing in its influence upon the soul. Like the Holy Ghost, it may well be called the " Comforter." Full of deep wisdom, and full of deep love ; full of mys- tery, and full of quickening instruction ; full of the awf ul- ness and infinitude of Deity, and full of the beauty and winning grace of a perfect humanity ; the Gospel of John will ever be the solace and joy of the Christian in his lofti- est and lowliest moods. He will always feel the truthful- ness of the language in which the childlike Claudius de- scribes his emotions while perusing this Gospel : " I have from my youth up delighted to read the Bible, but especially the Gospel of John. There is something in it exceedingly wonderful ; twilight and night, and through them the quick flash of lightning ; soft evening-clouds, and behind the clouds, the full-orbed moon. There is something, also, so high, and mysterious, and solemn, that one cannot become weary. It seems to me in reading the Gospel of John, as if I saw him at the last supper leaning upon the breast of his Master, and as if an angel were holding my lamp, and at certain passages wished to whis- per something in my ear. I am far from understanding all that 1 read ; yet it seems as if the meaning were hover- ing in the distance before my mind's eye. And even when I look into an entirely dark passage, I have an intimation of a great and glorious meaning within it which I shall one day understand." ^ Among the varied moods that are addressed and comforted by the teaching of the Gospel of John, is that ' Bengel remarks of Johu xvii. : *• This chapter, of all the chapters in Scripture, is the easiest in reg^r4 to the words, the most profound in re- gard to the ideas meant." 2 Claudius; Werke, Bd. I. 9. 8 170 THE REALITY OF HEAVEN. timorous and desponding temper which is produced by the fear of an exchange of worlds. Nothing contributes more directly to calm and assure the mind, than meditation upon those last discourses of our Lord which speak in such a majestic and sublime tone, and yet breathe a gracious, benign, and tranquillizing spirit. In them, the Eternal and Divine is strangely blended with the Finite and Human ; so that the soul which receives their warm im- pression is both inspired with confidence in the Almighty Teacher, and love for the human friend. It is related that a strong and mighty mind on drawing near to the confines of eternity, and feeling the need of some unearthly and celestial support when flesh and heart were failing, was reminded by a friend of the beauty of the Scriptures, and of those general characteristics of revelation which so often blind the eye to the more special and peculiar truths of Christianity. He made answer — hastily interrupting his friend — " Tell me not of the beauties of the Bible. I would give more for the seventeenth chapter of John's Gospel than for all of them." In meditating upon the utterance of our Lord recorded by St. John in the text, let us notice, in the first place, the familiar acquaintance with the heavenly world which is indicated by the words : " My Father's house ; " secondly, the definiteness of this world denoted by the words: " Many mansions ; " and, thirdly, its reality taught in the assertion : " If it were not so, I would have told you." I. In the first place, the words, " My Father's house," betoken the most 'n\i\n\2iie fmniliarity with heaven. It is the home of Christ, Nothing more conclusively evinces the difference between Jesus Christ and other men who have lived and died upon the earth, than the confidence and certainty with which he spoke of the invisible world. Not only is there no doubt or hesitation in his views as THE EEALITY OF HEAVEN. 171 expressed in his language, but there is no ignorance. He never says : " Now I know in part," On the contrary, we feel that he knew much more than he has disclosed ; and that if he had chosen to do so, he could have made yet more specific revelations concerning the solemn world be- yond the tomb. For all other men, there are two worlds — the one here and the other beyond. Their utterances respecting this visible and tangible sphere are positive and certain ; but respecting the invisible realm they guess, and they hope, or they doubt altogether. But for our Lord, there was, practically, only one world. He is as certain in respect to the invisible as to the visible ; and knows as fully concerning tlie one as the other. No mind unassisted by revelation ever reached the pitch of faith in the unseen and eternal that was attained by Socrates. But he was assailed by doubts ; and he confesses his ignorance of the region beyond the tomb. After that lofty and solemn description in the Phsedo (113, 114) of the different places assigned after death, to the good, the incorrigibly bad, and those who have led a middle life between the two, he adds : " To affirm positivel}^, indeed, that these things are exactly as I have described them, does not become a man of discernment. But that either this or something of the kind takes place in regard to our souls and their habitation — seeing that the soul is evidently immortal ' — appears to me most fitting to be believed, and worthy of hazard for one who trusts in the reality. For the hazard is noble, and it is right to charm ourselves with such views as with enchantments." How different is the impression made upon us by these noble but hesitating words, from that which was made upon John the Baptist by our Lord's ' ^aiVerai oZaa iddvarov. SaysVigerus, in loco, (paivofiai often has a signification of certainty. 172 THE BEALITY OF HEAVEN. manner and teaching upon such points, as indicated in his testimony : " He that cometh from above, is above all : he that is of the earth is earthly, and speaketh of the earth : he that cometh from heaven is above all : and what lie hath seen and heard, that he testifieth." Howj^ifferent is Plato's dimness of perception, and only hopeful conjecture respecting another life, from the calm and authoritative utterance of Him who said to Nicodemus : " We speak that we do know, and testify that we have seen. And no man hath ascended up to heaven but he that came down from heaven, even the Son of man who is in heaven." How different is the utterance of the human philosopher from that of Him who said to the cavilling Jews : " I am from above, ye are from beneath ; I go my way, and whither I go ye cannot come ; I proceeded forth, and came from God ; Doth this offend you ? What and if ye shall see the Son of man ascend up where he was before ? " How dif- ferent are the words of Socrates from the language of Him who in a solemn prayer to the Eternal God spake the words, blasphemous if falling from the lips of any merely finite being : " O Father, glorify thou me with thine own self, with the glory which I had with thee before the world was." Christ, then, speaks of heaven and immortal life as an eye-witness. The eternal world was no " dim, undiscovered country " for him ; and therefore his words and tones are those of one who was "native, and to the manner born." There are periods in the believer's life when he needs to cling hold of this fact, that his perturbation may be calmed. The viewless world of spirit has never been en- tered by any mortal who has been permitted to return and divulge its secrets. So long as man is in the ilesh, and accustomed only to objects of sense, it is a most baf- fling and mysterious world for him, and a shadowy solem- THE REALITY OF HEAVEN. 173 nity invests it. He is not familiar with its scenes and objects. Nay, he is so habituated to that which can be seen and handled, that the very terms " spirit " and " spir- itual " have come to denote the vague, the unknown, the unfamiliar, and the fearful. Without Revelation, the world beyond is eminently a " dim, undiscovered country." The Ancients, it is true, peopled it with the shades of the departed, and divided it into the regions of the blest and the regions of the unblest ; but they still felt it to be an unknown land, and a dark, mysterious air veiled it from their vision. The dying heathen, notwithstanding the popular faith and the popular teachings respecting the future life, dreaded to go over into it, not merely because of the guilt in his conscience which caused him to fear a righteous retribution, but also because of his uncertainty and ignorance. He turned his glazing, dying eye back to the visible world, and longed for the continuance of a life which, though it was full of unsatisf action and wretched- ness, was yet invested with clearness and familiarity.* He recoiled at the prospect of being hurried away from the bright sunlight, and the ' green earth, into the obscurity and darkness of the world of shades. The pagan or in- stinctive view of death, and the future world, is vividly delineated by the great dramatic poet in the feeling utter- ance of Claudio : " Ay, but to die, and go we know not where ; To lie in cold obstruction, and to rot ; This sensible warm motion to become A kneaded clod ; and the delighted spirit ' Says Achilles to Ulysses in the lower regions : "Speak not auothi^T word of comfort concerning death, O noble Ulysses ! I would far rather till the field as a day laborer, a needy man without inheritance or prop- erty, than rule over the whole realm of the departed. " — Odyssey XI. 488. 174 THE KEALITY OF HEAVEN. To bathe in fiery floods, or to reside In thrilling regions of thick-ribbed ice ; To be imprisoned in the viewless winds, And blown with restless violence round about The pendent world ; or to be worse than worst Of those, that lawless and uncertain thoughts Imagine howling ! 'tis too horrible ! The weariest and most loathed worldly life That age, ache, penury, and imprisonment Can lay on nature is a paradise To what we fear of death." Although man enlightened by Revelation has a much more definite knowledge respecting the future life, he is not entirely divested of this sense of uncertainty about his future existence. Though the gospel has brought life and immortality to light ; has shot some rays into the gloom of eternity ; man still feels that it is an unfamiliar world. How and what he shall be when his spirit is disembodied, he knows not. He is ignorant of the mode of existence upon the other side of the tomb. Living in the light of Christianity, knowing certainly that there is another world than this, and that Christ came out from it and dwelt for a time in this world, and then " ascended up where he was before," man is still filled with some of the dread that overshadows the heathen, and like liim clings with earnest- ness and nervousness to this visible and diurnal sphere. And for many men dwelling in Christendom, the other reason for dread that exists in the case of the pagan is also existing. The merely nominal Christian, like the pagan, knows that there is unpardoned sin upon the soul, and the pale realms of eternity are therefore, as were the gates of paradise for the departing Adam and Eve, " With dreadful faces thronged, and fiery arms." Though the believer ought to be raised by his faith THE KEALITY OF HEAVEINT. 175 above all these fears, and the future life should be familiar as his own home to him, yet he is often conscious of un- certainty and misgiving when he thinks of an exchange of worlds. He cannot at all times confidently say : " It is my Father's house." He has little positive hope and desire to enter it. He does not steadily and habitually seek a better country, even a heavenly. He, too often, clings to life with anxiety, and the summons to depart sends perturbation and trembling through his soul. It is a mysterious world, and although he professes to have a God and Kedeemer within it, yet he fears to enter. 'Now the words of our Savior : '• My Father's house," should calm and encourage us. We should believe with a simple and unquestioning faith, that they really indicate the nature of the spiritual world for the Christian — that eternity for the disciple of Christ is Jiome. They should also invest the future world with clearness and familiarity. It should not be for us a vague and mystical realm, but our most cheerful home-thoughts should gather around it ; we should cherish the home-feeling regarding it ; and to our inward eye, it should present the distinctness and at- tractions of a father's house. That this may be the case with us, it is not in the least necessary to know the exact mode of our future existence. It is enough to know that the " Lord Jesus Christ shall change our vile body, that it may be fashioned like unto his glorious body, according to the energy whereby he is able even to subdue all things unto himself." It is enough to know that " when he shall appear, we shall be like him : for we shall see him as he is." We need only to believe the words of our Savior : " In my Father's house are many mansions." We need nothing but that unquestioning spirit which rests upon the word and power of an omniscient God and Redeemer, and which commends itself to the guardianship of Him who 176 THE REALITY OF HEAVEN. has promised to be with his Church, and with every mem- ber of it, " always, even unto the end of the world." II. In the second place, we are to notice the definiteness of the spiritual world, indicated by the words : " Many mansions." This language does not denote a dim, airy im- mensity ; an unlimited ether in which the disembodied spirits shall wander ; a shadowy realm in which ghosts pale and silent shall flit to and fro, like bats in twilight. Our spirits are finite and individual, and we start back at the thought of a dreamy existence diffused through a vague and indefinite infinitude. We recoil at the thought of a fluctuating and unfixed mode of being. Though flesh and blood cannot enter the kingdom of God, and we ought not to look for the material objects of this planet in a spiritual world, yet both Scripture and the profound in- stincts of our minds affirm a body for the clothing of our spirits, and a definite residence adapted to it. There is that within us which dreads a slumbering and uncertain mode of being. We are persons, and we instinctively de- sire the existence of a person, and a dwelling-place amidst personal relationships and circumstances. The phrase " many mansions " denotes that there is a definite and appropriate residence beyond the tomb, for our finite and distinctly personal spirits ; a residence in which they can unfold their powers in a well-defined and self-conscious manner ; in which they can think, and know, and feel as vividly as they do here ; in which as happy individualities they can look upon the face of a personal God and worship him ; in which as blessed intelligences they can apprehend his excellence, and glorify him for- evermore. With all the spirituality with which the Word of God describes the abodes of the blest, there is imited a remark- able clearness. In all other books, the great hereafter THE REALITY OF HEAVEN. 177 looks dim, strange, and forbidding ; but in the Bible it appears real, natural, and life-like. In representing the kingdom of God as spiritual, Kevelation keeps in view the wants of a finite creature, and therefore heaven is where the face of God shines with a more effulgent brightness than elsewhere, and where there is the most marked and impressive consciousness of his presence. There are times, even in the Christian life upon earth, when the veil is partially withdrawn, and that august Being whom man is prone to picture to himself as like the all-pervading air, or the mystic principle of life in nature, reveals speaking lineaments, and a living eye that meets his eye ; moments when the finite spirit meets the Infinite face to face, and glances of Divine love and approbation send ineffable peace through it. And such, only in a perfect degree, will be the relation which the believer will sustain to God in the future life. He will see Him as He is. He will be a child, and God will be a Father. His existence will be that of distinct and blessed self-consciousness. He will dwell in " mansions." III. In the third place, we are to note the reality of the heavenly world, denoted by the remark of our Lord : " If it were not so, I would have told you." Man, here below, lives so entirely among sensible things, and meditates so little upon spiritual objects, that he comes to look upon that which is spiritual as unreal, and upon material things as the only realities. For most men, houses, and lands, and gold are more real than God and the soul. The former address the five senses, whereas " no man hath seen God at any time," and the soul is not apprehensible by any sensuous organ. Yet the invisible God is more real than any other being, for he is the cause and ground of all other existence. It was an invisible Mind that made the material chaos from nothing, and 8* 178 THE KEALITY OF HEAVEN. brooded over it, and formed it into an orderly and beauti- ful cosmos. The invisible is more firmly substantial than the visible. " The things which are seen were not made of things which are seen ; the things which are seen are temporal, but the things which are not seen are eternal." Still, it cannot be denied that mankind reverse all this, and look upon spiritual things and the invisible world as very unreal and phantom-like. They do not have sufficient faith in an unseen future life, to live for it ; and they do not regard it as so real and important, that their whole earthly existence should be devoted to a preparation for it. Kow, it is from such a mass of earthly and sensuous men, holding such views of the invisible, that the Christian is taken. He is born into the new spiritual kingdom, and professes to believe that God is, and that the soul verily is, and that heaven and hell are everlasting realities ; but still the views and mental habits of the old carnal nature cling to him. He finds it difficult to live habitually with reference to eternity, to be continually conscious of the presence of God, and to act with an unwavering certainty of heaven. He is still much possessed by the spirit of this world, too frequently he finds his home among its vanities, and he attaches too much value to its objects. Hence, when the prospect of an entrance into eternity opens be- fore him, he feels unprepared. He needs time that he may fix his thoughts upon God and invisible things, in order to realize that God is, and feel that he is going into a world more solid and satisfying than the one he is leav- ing. He has lived too carnal a life ; he is not so spirit- ually minded as he should be, and his conversation has not habitually been in heaven; and therefore it seems to him as if he were entering a cheerless and ghostly realm. Thus the unfaithful Christian is surprised by death, and perturbation comes over him as he lies down to die. He THE EEALITY OF HEAVEN. 179 is not so much at home in eternity as he is in time ; and hence he is in bondage to the fear of death, and shrinks from the exchange of worlds. One remedy for such a state of mind, for such a practi- cal unbelief in God and heaven, is to be found in medita- tion upon the words of Him who came down from heaven, and who is in heaven. " If it were not so," says our Lord, " if there were not many mansions in heaven ; if it were not my home, and the home of my Father, and of the holy angels, and of the spirits of just men made perfect; I would have told you, I would have undeceived you." This is the language of the Redeemer to his disciples, spoken that they might not be troubled or afraid at the prospect of his departure from them to God, or at the thought of their own departure out of this world. This voice of his sounds encouragement, through all ages, to the body of believers. It issues from the " mansions " of heaven, and for aU who hear it, it is a voice that cheers and animates. It comes forth from the invisible world, and bids the Christian prepare to enter it ; to expect the entrance with a hopeful and cheerful temper ; nay, to be longing for the time when he shall go into the presence of God unclothed of the mortal and sinful, and clothed upon with the im- mortal and the holy. It is evident from this unfolding of the subject, that the Christian needs an increase of faith. If he profoundly be- lieved that God is his Father, and loves him ; that Christ is his Saviour, and intercedes for him ; that the Holy Spirit is his Sanctifier, and dwells in his heart — if he pro- foundly believed what the Word of God commands him to believe, that all the mercy and power of the triune God- head is working out the eternal salvation of his soul, and that the Godhead dwells in a real and blessed world, and is preparing him for an entrance into it that he may be a 180 THE REALITY OF HEAVEN. priest and a king there forever — if he believed this with an undoiibting and abiding faith, he would go through this life "tasting the powers of the world to come." And when the hour came to depart hence, he would leap for joy because his salvation draws nigh ; because he is soon to experience the truth of that glowing declaration : " Eye hath not seen, nor ear heard, neither hath it entered into the heart of man to conceive the things that God hath pre- pared for them that love him." We should therefore pray, as did the disciples of our Lord, for an increase of faith ; and we should cultivate this particular habit and grace. Let us fix these particu- lar truths and facts in our minds, and habitually ponder them : That heaven is a reality, if it were not, Christ would have told his followers so ; that the dwelling-place of God must be an actual and happy abode ; that our Father'a^. house is adapted to the wants and capacities of our finite personal spirits; and that its " mansions " are open to receive them when they leave the body. Let us believe and doubt not, that for all who are in Christ there is an ineffable blessedness in reserve, and that it will never end ; that all who sleep in Jesus shall " with open eye be- hold the glory of the Lord, and be changed into the same image from glory to glory by the Spirit of the Lord." SEEMON XIL PUEE MOTIVES THE LIGHT OF THE SOUL. Matthew vi. 22. — " The light of the body is the eye ; if therefore thine eye be single, thy whole body shall be full of light." The human eye is the most striking and expressive feature in the human constitution. Of all the physical organs, it is the one that is closest to the soul. Though composed of flesh and hlood, of muscles and tissues — the toughest of muscles, and the most reticulated of tissues — it nevertheless seems to be half spiritual and immaterial. A man's hand, a man's foot, is hard matter, is solid stupid flesh and blood ; but a man's eye gleams with ethereal fire, and his very soul radiates from it. The science of phren- ology seeks the mind in the skull ; but it would have been more successful in deducing human character from the physical structure, if it had studied that organ of vision which is always instinct with the soul and the soul's life. The skull of some animals approximates in its form to that of man ; as the many attempts to trace a connection between man and the brute prove. But no brute's eye approximates in its expression to that of the human being. The eye of the ox is large, liquid, and soft ; and the old Greek called the queen of the Olympian heavens the " ox- eyed Juno." But there is no morality, no human intelli- gence, and no human affection, in it. The ideas of God, 182 PUEE MOTIVES THE and law, and conscience, are not written in the eje-ball of the ox as they are in that of every living man. Look into the eye of the faitliful dog, or the patient ox, and you perceive a blank in reference to all that higher range of being, and that higher class of ideas, which lies at the basis of accountability and religion. But look into the eye of the African or the Esquimaux, and through all the d Illness and torpor there gleams out upon you an ex- pression, a glance, that betokens that this creature is not a mere animal, but is moral, is rational, is human. " The light of the body," says our Lord in the text, " is the eye." This is a strong statement. Our Lord does not say that the eye is the instrument by which light is perceived, but that it is the light itself. And there cer- tainly is a striking resemblance between the nature of the eye and that of light. The eye is adapted and precon- formed to the solar ray. The crystalline lens, the watery humor, the tense silvery coating — everything that enters into the structure of this wonderful instrument of vision — has resemblances and alBnities with that lucid shining ele- ment, the light of the sun. Plotinus long ago remarked that the eye could not see the sun, unless it had some- thing solar, or sun-like, in its own composition. Mere opaque flesh and blood has no power of vision. We can- not see with the hand or the foot. In this sense, then, the eye is the light of the body. The original Greek word {Xv^i^os:) in the text, which is translated light, litei-ally signifies a lamp. The human eye is a burning lamp placed inside of the human body, like a candle behind a trans- parency, by which this " muddy vesture of decay," this dark opaque materialism of the human frame is lighted up. " The lamp of the body is the eye ; therefore when thine eye is single, thy whole body also is full of light; but when thine eye is evil, thy body also is full of dark- LIGHT OF THE SOUL. 183 ness. If thy whole body, therefore, be full of light, having no part dark, the whole shall be full of light, as when the bright shining of a candle doth give thee light." (Luke xi. 34, 36.) But in employing this illustration it was not the pur- pose of our Lord to teach optics. It is true that his words agree incidentally with optical investigation ; even as all the incidental teachings of Revelation concerning the material universe will be found to harmonize with the facts, when they shall finally be discovered by the groping and disputing naturalist. But the Son of God became in- carnate for a higher object than to teach the natural sciences. Our Lord's casual allusions to the structui-e of earth, and of man, are made only for the purpose of throwing light upon a more mysterious organization than that of the human eye, and of solving problems infinitely more important than any that relate to the laws and pro- cesses of the perishing material universe. The great Teacher, in his Sermon on the Mount from which the text is taken, had been enjoining it upon his disciples to live not for time but for eternity. " Lay not up for yourselves treasures upon earth, where moth and rust doth corrupt, and where thieves break through and steal. But lay up for yourselves treasures in heaven, where neither moth nor rust doth corrupt, and where thieves do not break through nor steal. For where your treasure is, there will your heart be also." (Matt. vi. 19- 21.) This devotion to the concerns and realities of another and better world than this, Christ also tells his disciples, must be single-minded and absorbing. " No man can serve two masters ; for either he will hate the one, and love the other, or else he will hold to the one, and despise the other. Ye cannot serve God and Mammon." (Matt, vi. 24.) The illustration borrowed from the human eye 184 PURE MOTIVES THE comes between these two thoughts, in St. Matthew's re- port of our Lord's instructions to his disciples ; showing that by it, he intended to ilhistrate and enforce the neces- sity of singleness of purpose in the Christian life and profession. As the eye must not see double, but must be " single," in order that the body may be full of light ; so there must be no double-mind, no wavering purpose, no impure motive, if the Christian would not walk in darkness. We are, therefore, led by the connection of thought in our Lord's discourse, to consider the clear, luminous, and crystalline eye as a symbol of a pure, sincere, and single motive. And we propose in two particulars, to show that as the eye is the light of the body, BOjmre motives are the light of the soul. By a pure motive is meant one that is founded in a sin- cere desire to honor God. Christian men are sometimes troubled to know whether their purposes and intentions are upright. They fear that they are sinister, and mixed with corruption. But the test is easy and sure. Let the person ask himself the question : " Do I in this thing honestly seek to exalt ray Maker, and advance his cause in the world ? " IE this can be answered in the affirm- ative, it precludes both pride and sensuality — the love of human applause, and the love of worldly enjoyment — which are the two principal lusts that vitiate human motives. By a pure motive, then, is meant one that is founded in the sole desire to glorify God ; and of such an one we confidently affirm that it is the light of the soul. I. In the first place, it is the light of the soul, because it relieves the mind of doubts concerning the path of duty. The single-eyed desire to please and honor God is a sure guide to a Christian, when he is perplexed in regard to the LiaHT OF THE SOUL. 185 course of action that he ought to pursue. There are many instances in which it is difficult to decide what is the path of duty. There is nothing in the nature of the thing, or of the case, that settles the question ; and, therefore, the only mode in which it can be settled is to raise the ques- tion respecting the personal intention. Suppose, for illustration, that a Christian man, by that course of events which is the leading of Providence, is called to consider the proposition to change his place of residence, or to engage in another occupation or line of business. There is nothing intrinsically right or wrong in either of these measures. There is no moral quality in them; and therefore he cannot determine in respect to them from their intrinsic character, as he can when the proposition to lie, or to steal, or to do an act that is evil in itself, is presented to him. He must, therefore, if he would carry his Christianity into his whole life, and have it penetrate all his plans and movements — he must, there- fore, in deciding what is duty in such instances as these, raise the question : How shall I most exalt God in the promotion of his cause in the world ? Suppose, again, that a young Christian is called upon to decide what his course in life shall be ; whether he shall devote it to secular or sacred pursuits ; whether he shall go into the market-place and buy and sell and get gain, or whether he shall go into the pulpit and preach the gospel to sinful men. Now, there is nothing in the mere prose- cution of trade or commerce that is intrinsically right or intrinsically wrong ; and neither is there anything holy, per se, in the calling of a clergyman. Everything depends upon the motive with which each is pursued. And the question by which this young Christian shall decide whether he shall be a layman or a clergyman, is the ques- tion : In which calling can I most glorify God ? 186 PURE MOTIVES THE These are specimens of an unlimited number of cases in which the Christian is called to decide respecting the path of duty, when the cases themselves do not furnish the clue. This whole wide field is full of perplexity, unless we carry into it that clear, crystalline eye which fills the body full of light ; that pure motive which is a suie guide through the tangled pathway. The Romish casuist has dug over this whole field, but it has yielded him very little good fruit, and very much that is evil. Instead of put- ting the conscience upon its good behavior; instead of telling his pupil to settle all such perplexity by the simple, evangelical maxim: "Whether therefore ye eat, or drink, or whatsoever ye do, do all to the glory of God ; " instead of insisting first and chiefly upon the possession and the maintenance of a pure motive and a godly intention ; the Romish casuist has attempted to discover an intrinsic mo- rality in thousands of acts that have none, and to furnish a long catalogue of them all, in which the scrupulous and anxious soul shall find a rule ready made, and which he shall follow mechanically and servilely. Perhaps there is no part of this field of human duty and responsibility, that more needs the clear shining light of a pure motive and intention, than that which includes the intercourse between religious men and the men of the world. The Church of Christ is planted in the midst of an earthly and an irreligious generation. It cannot escape this. St. Paul told the Christians of his day, that they could not avoid the temptations of pagan society except by going out of the world ; and it is still as true as ever, that the Church must be exposed to the lust of the flesh, and the lust of the eye, and the pride of life, so long as it dwells here in space and time. And this fact renders it necessary for the Christian to decide many difiicult and perplexing questions in morals and religion. They arose LIGHT OF THE SOUL. 187 in the days of the apostles. Sincere and scrupulous be- lievers were in doubt whether they should eat of meat that had constituted a part of a sacrificial victim offered in an idol's temple ; and whether they should observe, or should not observe, the sacred days of the old Jewish dis- pensation. These things had in them no intrinsic moral- ity ; while yet the questions that were involved in them affected the purity and whole future growth of the Church. St. Paul laid down the rule by which they were to be settled. " Meat commendeth us not to God : for neither if we eat are we the better ; neither, if we eat not, are we the worse. But take heed lest by any means this liberty of yours become a stumbling-block to them that are weak." The Christian must beware lest, by insisting upon his own personal rights, he hinder the progress of the gospel. There was nothing good or bad, in itself considered, in this partaking of food that had come into external connec- tion with the abominations of idolatry and paganism. But if a Christian, by asserting and using his unques- tionable right and liberty in a matter like this, should either directly or indirectly injure the cause of Christ, he must forego his personal right and yield his personal lib- erty. Says the noble and holy apostle Paul : " If my eat- ing of meat — which is both my right and my liberty, so far as my own conscience is concerned — if my eating of meat interferes in any way with the spirituality and growth in grace of any professing Christian, I will eat no meat while the world stands." He decides the right and the wrong in such instances, not by the intrinsic quality of the act, nor by his own right and liberty as a private person to perform it, but by the moral and religious influence upon others, and thus, ultimately, by his own personal motives in the case. He desires and intends in every ac- tion to glorify God, and promote his cause in the world ; 188 PURE MOTIVES THE and this pure intention guides him unerringly through that field of casuistry which, without this clue, is so per- plexing and bewildering. Now, how beautifully does all this apply to the inter- course which the Church must hold with the world, and to that class of questions that arise out of this intercourse. A Christian man must mingle more or less in unchristian society. He is brought in contact with the manners and customs, the usages and habits, the pleasures and amuse- ments of a generation that is worldly, that fears not God, and is destitute of the meekness and spirituality of Christ. A thousand perplexing inquiries respecting the path of duty necessarily arise ; and they must be answered. Let him now look at them with that clear, honest, open eye, which is the light of the body. Let him decide upon the course which he shall pursue, in any given instance, by the illumination of a simple, single purpose to honor the Lord Christ and promote the Christian religion in the world. If this be in him and abound, he cannot go astray. To him it may be said, as the prophet Nathan said to David : " Do all that is in thy heart " — act as you please — " for the Lord is with thee." It is easy to perceive that the application of such a maxim as that of the apostle : " Whether therefore ye eat, or drink, or whatsoever ye do, do all to the glory of God," would pour a light upon any possible question of duty that could not lead astray. No man will run much hazard of taking a wrong step in morals, or religion, whose eye is single, and steadily directed toward the honor of his Maker. It is possible, indeed, for him to err in judg- ment, for he is human and uninspired, but it is not very probable. And even if, owing to human infirmity, he should be mistaken in a perplexing and difficult case, it will be an error of the head and not of the heart. If it was LIGHT OF THE SOUL. 189 really his desire and intention to please God and promote his cause in the world ; if the Searcher of the heart saw that he meant well ; then the will will be accepted for the deed. " For where there is a willing mind, it is accepted according to what a man hath, and not according to what he hath not." But errors of judgment will be very rare on the part of one who is actuated by a pure motive. He will walk in the light, and be one of the children of light. " He that loveth his brother," says St. John, " abideth in the light, and there is none occasion of stumbling in him." It is the effect of a genuinely benevolent and fraternal feel- ing toward a fellow-man, to prevent all misunderstand- ings, or to remove them if they exist. There can be no double-dealing where there is brotherly love. In like manner, if the soul is full of pure affection for God, and of a simple desire to honor him, there can be no occasion of stumbling in the path of duty. Such a soul walks un- der the broad, bright light of noon-day. II. In the second place, a pure motive is the light of the soul, because it relieves the mind of doubts concern- ing religious doctrine. In every age of the world, there is more or less per- plexity in men's minds respecting religious truth. Pilate's question : " "What is truth ? " is asked by many a soul in every generation. Although Christianity has been a dom- inant religion in the world for eighteen centuries ; although it has left its record and stamp upon all the best civiliza- tion and progress of mankind ; although it has conducted millions of souls, through the gloom and sorrow of earth and time, to a peaceful death and a hope full of immor- tality ; and although there is confessedly nothing else to take its place, in case it be an imposture and a lie ; yet some men still doubt, and are in perplexity to know if it really be the way, and the truth, and the life. This is 190 PURE MOTIVES THE skepticism in its extreme form. But it may assume a milder type. There may be no doubt in regard to the truthfulness of Christianity so far as its principles agree with those of natural religion, and there may still be a strong doubt in regard to the evangelical doctrines. A man may believe that there is a God ; that right and wrong are eternal contraries ; that the soul is immortal ; that virtue will be rewarded, and vice will be punished in another world ; and yet doubt whether there is a triune God ; whether man is apostate and totally depraved ; whether the Son of God became man, and died on the cross to make atonement for human guilt ; whether a man must be born again in order to a happy eternity. Many are per- plexed with doubts upon these evangelical doctrines, as they are called, and at times would give much to know if they are in very deed the absolute and eternal verities of God. Now we say that a pure motive, a single sincere pur- pose to exalt God, will do much toward clearing away these doubts. " If any man," says our Lord, " will do his will, he shall know of the doctrine." It is impossible in a single discourse to take up these truths of revealed re- ligion one by one, and show how a pure motive will flare light upon each and every one of them, and teach a man what he ought to believe and hold. We will, therefore, select only one of them, and make it the crucial test by which to try them all. There is no doctrine about which the doubts and skep- ticism, nay, the sincere perplexity of men, hovers more continually, than about the doctrine that man is by nature depraved and deserving of eternal punishment. Prob- ably, if the world of unbelievers could be convinced of the truth of this particular tenet, their doubt and unbelief upon all the other doctrines would yield. This is the cit- adel in the fortress of unbelief. LIGHT OF THE SOUL. 191 'Now let a man look at this doctrine of the gnilt and corruption of man, as it is stated in the Christian Scrip- tures, and as it is presupposed by the whole economy of Redemption, and ask himself the question, whether he will most honor God by adopting it, or by combating and re- jecting it. Let him remember that if he denies the doc- trine of human guilt and corruption, he nullifies the whole Christian system, because he who nullifies the sin of man nullifies the redemption of the Son of God. St. Paul told the Corinthians, that if there were no resurrection of the dead, then Christ had not risen ; and if Christ had not risen, the faith of every one who had believed in him was vain. In like manner, if man is not a lost sinner, then there is no Divine Saviour and no eternal salvation, for none is needed. There are no superfluities in the universe of God. Whoever, therefore, denies the reality of a sin in the human race which necessitated the incarnation and atoning death of the Son of God, puts upon God that great dishonor of disputing his veracity which is spoken of by St. John : " If we say that we have not sinned, we make him a liar, and his word is not in us. He that believeth not God, hath made him a liar, because he believeth not the record that God gave of his Son." (1 John i. 10 ; v. 10.) But the " record " spoken of is the doctrine that man is a lost sinner — so utterly lost that no one but the eternal Son of God can save him ; and even He can do this only by pouring out his atoning life-blood. Now can any man desire and purpose to glorify God, while disputing Divine Revelation and denying the apostasy and sin of mankind, respecting which God has left such a clear record in his Word, and which constitutes the only rational ground for the death of the Lord Jesus Christ ? No, it is the confession and not the denial of human de- pravity that glorifies God. Two men went up into the 192 PURE MOTIVES THE temple to pray, one of whom acknowledged the guilt and corruption of man, and the other denied it ; and we are informed by the highest authority that the prayer of the former was well-pleasing to the Most High, and that of the latter was an abomination to Him. The men who glorify God are possessed of the publican's spirit. They do not adopt the pharisee's theory of human nature. They cry, " God be merciful to me a sinner." And the declaration concerning them from the lips of the Eternal is : " To this man will I look, even to him that is poor, and of a contrite spirit, and trembleth at my word." (Is. Ixvi. 2.) In settling the question, therefore, respecting the unwel- come doctrine of human depravity and its endless punish- ment, a pure motive will pour a flood of light. If this one thing alone could but be introduced into the heart of the doubter himself, we have small fear that the most humbling, and in some respects the most difficult, truth in the Chris- tian system, would be accepted. If the mind of the skeptic, or of the groping and really perplexed inquirer, could but be filled with an absorbing concern for the Divine honor ; if every such one could but be brought to sympathize with St. Paul when he cried : " Let God be true, and every man a liar ; " we would leave it with him to say which is the absolute and indisputable truth — the doctrine of human virtue, or the doctrine of human sin. Employ, then, this test and criterion of religious doc- trine. Ask yourself the question, in reference to any and every tenet that challenges your attention, or solicits your credence, " Does its adoption glorify God ? " The arguments for the Christian system — and by the Chris- tian system we mean evangelical Christianity — are strong, and grow stronger as the ages wear away. But there is one argument too often overlooked, or underestimated. LIGHT OF THE SOUL. 193 It is the fact that this system exalts God, and properly abases man. We find an evidence of its divinity in this very thing. All the natm-al religions, all the wild re- ligions of the globe, reverse this. They exalt the creatm*e, and abase, yea debase, the Creator. Like the old Ptole- maic astronomy, like their own absurd theories of the ma- terial world, they place the little world of man at the centre of the boundless universe. Christianity, like the Copernican system, restores everything to its right rela- tions, and arranges everything about its real and true centre. God is first, last, and midst. Of him, through him, and to him, are all things. The first question, there- fore, to be asked concerning every doctrine, and every system, is the question : " Does it promote the Divine glory ? " The great and first maxim for human action, and human speculation, is the maxim : " Whether, there- fore, ye eat, or drink, or whatsoever ye do, do all to the glory of God." This then is the eye with which we are to pierce through all the doubts and darkness of earth and time. This pure, motive is the light of the soul. How simple, and how beautiful it is — simple as the light of heaven ; beautifui as the crystalline eye itself. Only carry with you this de- sire and longing to exalt the great and wise Creator, and you cannot go astray. You cannot go astray in the actions of your daily life. You cannot go astray in, the thoughts and opinions of your own mind. The very motive will en- velop you, always and everywhere, like an atmospliere. Your whole soul " shall be full of light, having no part dark ; as full of light as when the bright shining of a candle doth give thee light." 9 SEEMON XIII. THE LAW IS LIGHT. Proverbs vi. 23.—" The law is light." The fitness and beanty of this comparison of the law of God with light are seen immediately. If we consider the nature of law, we find that it is like the nature of sun- light. There is nothing so pure and clean as light, and there is nothing so pure and stainless as the divine law. We cannot conceive of a mixture of light and darkness, and neither can we conceive of a mixture of holiness and sin. The one may expel the other, but they can never so mingle with each other as to form one compound substance, or quality. Light is always a bright and shining element ; the law of God is always a perfectly pure thing. Again, there is nothing so ubiquitous as the light. It is everywhere. Our earth and all the heavenly bodies swim in it. Its universal presence is necessary, in order that there may be order and beauty in the material uni- verse. When God would change the void and formlesa chaos into a world, he first created, not life, as we should have anticipated, but light, and shot it through the gloom. How penetrating an element it is, and how wonderfully does it search out all the secret places in nature, and take up its dwelling in them. It enters with a gentle yet a powerful entrance into the hard diamond, and gives it its THE LAW IS LIGHT. 195 gleam and sparkle. It tenderly feels its way into the del- icate pupil of the human eye, and lights it up with a bright and radiant glow. It melts with a serene and mellowing effect into the firmament above us, and makes it a fit can- opy and pavilion for the globe. Its going forth is from the end of the heaven, and its circuit unto the end of it, and there is nothing hid from the radiance thereof. How very like this light in the material universe is the law of God in the rational. How naturally does the one suggest and symbolize the other. Hence the Psalmist, after alluding to the sun, the great bearer of light, and to his running like a strong giant through the heavens, ab- ruptly, yet by a very natural transition, begins to speak of " the law of the Lord " as perfect ; of the " statutes of the Lord" as right; of the "commandment of the Lord" as pure ; of " the judgments of the Lord" as true and right- eous altogether. Again, to follow the resemblance, the moral law is the ordinance which establishes and governs the moral uni- verse. The command, " Let there be light," founded and sustains the material world ; and the command, " Let there be supreme love of God," founds and sustains the rational and responsible world. And as the proclamation of the physical law was requisite in order to the existence of the physical world, so was the proclamation of the spiritual law requisite in order to the existence of the spiritual world. Both commands are universal and all-pervading. The law of God, therefore, like the light, is ubiquitous. Within the rational and responsible sphere, law is every- where. Not, indeed, in the same degree, but in the same species. For there are different degrees of moral light, as there are different degrees of natural light. As there is the twilight of the morning, and the brightness of the noonday, and the many degrees of light between these 196 THE LAW IS LIGHT. all running into each other by insensible gradations, so there is the dim light of finite reason in the imbruted pa- gan, and the light of supreme reason in the infinite God shining in its strength and intolerable brightness, and the infinite number of degrees between these extremes. Everywhere in this rational world does this legal light, in a fainter or a brighter manner, shine ; for a being without a spark of moral intelligence, without a particle of con- science, is a brute. Everywhere in this responsible world, does this law, with greater or less power, manifest its presence. It may be a law written only upon the fieehy tablet of the heart, as in the instance of the heathen. It may be written on the heart, and in the revealed word of God, as the dweller in a Christian land has it. It may be written on the heart, and read again in the countenance of that God who " is light, and in whom is no darkness at all," as spirits in eternity have it. But everywhere its presence in some degree is presupposed in a responsible world — " for where no Idw is, there is no transgression." Its presence, moreover, is a penetrating one, like that of light. It pierces where we should not expect to find it. It is witnessed in the remorse v^hich it awakens when it has pierced through the thick and dark degradation of pa- ganism. It is seen in the blood of the victims by which the pagan attempts to expiate the guilt of having violated law, and resisted light. It is revealed in the uneasy con- sciences of men living in a Christian land, which can be pacified only by the blood of Him who was " made a curse for man." It is found in hell, and creatures dread it and feel its terrible power, because it is light divorced from life ; mere law without love. It is found in heaven, and the saints enjoy it, because for them it is light, and life, and love, all in one. Wherever the omnipresent God is, there is his law. Wherever there is a creature possessing THE LAW IS LIGHT. 197 the sense of responsibility to God, there is also a knowl- edge, in greater or less degree, of that commandment by which its conduct toward him should be regulated. Issu- ing from God, then, moral law flows out into all places of his dominion, as light radiates from the sun, and consti- tutes a clear, crystal element in which all accountable be- ings live, either as light or lightning ; either as the light that rejoices them if they obey, or the lightning that blasts them if they disobey — even as the natural light is the dwelling-place of all material things ; though sometimes it is the benign light of an autumnal noon, or the soft light of a summer evening, and sometimes it is that chemical incandescence which, in the old geological eras, burned up the primeval forests, of which the coal-beds are the cin- ders. How truly, then, " the law is light," if we consider the purity of its nature, or the universality and penetration of its presence. But our main object is to show the similarity between the moral law and the material light, by looking at its influences and effects in the soul, rather than by analyz- ing its intrinsic nature. And the subject naturally divides into two parts, when we remember that there are two classes of beings, the evil and the good, who sustain rela- tions to this law. We shall, in this discourse, direct attention to some effects produced by the Divine law in the Christian be- liever, that are like the effects of light in the world of nature. I. In the first place, the moral law reveals like sunlight. It makes the sin which still remains in the Christian a visible thing. The apostle Paul notices this point of sim- ilarity, when he remarks : " All things that are reproved are made manifest by the light, for whatsoever doth make manifest is light." And our Lord implies the same resem- 198 THE LAW IS LIGHT. blance, when lie says : " This is the condemnation, that light is come into the world, and men loved darkness rather than light, because their deeds were evil. For every one that doeth evil hateth the light, neither cometh to the light, lest his deeds should be reproved. But he that doeth truth cometh to the light, that his deeds may be made manifest that they are wrought in God." Believers are continually urged in the Scriptures to bring their hearts into the light of God's law, that they may see the sin that is in them. It is as necessary, in order to know our characters, that we should scrutinize them by this illumination, as it is that the naturalist should bring the plant, or the insect, whose structure he would comprehend, into the bright daylight. And if we would thoroughly understand our intricate and hidden corrup- tion, we must by prayer and reflection intensify the light of the moral law, that it may penetrate more deeply into the dark mass, even as the naturalist must concentrate the light of the sun through the lens, if he would thoroughly know the plant or the insect. How wonderfully does the holy searching law of God reveal our character ! In the silent hour of meditation, ■when we are alone with it, and carefully compare our con- duct with its requirements, how unworthy and guilty do we find and feel ourselves to be, and how earnestly do we look unto Him " who is the end of the law for righteous- ness, unto every one that believeth." Truly the law is " the candle of the Lord, searching all the inward parts." It discloses, when its light is thus brightened by medita- tion, much sin which in the carelessness of daily life es- capes our notice. The light, in the hour of self-examina- tion, goes down to a lower plane, and reveals a lower and more hidden sin. It makes its way in among the motives, the propensities, the desires and affections of the heart, THE LAW IS LIGHT. 199 and brings into clear view the plague-spot itself — the evil nature and disposition. Sin is a sallow plant of darkness, and grows best in the night, like the nightshade and other poisonous plants. Hence it avoids the light, and will not come to the light, lest it be reproved. But when we reso- lutely throw open the soul, and permit the light of God's truth to shine in, then we come to know the deadly growth which has been springing up rankly and luxuriantly within us — a growth of which we had not been distinctly awai'e, and which is difficult to root up. Every Christian who is at all faithful to himself, and to God, has experienced these illuminating and revelatory influences of the law. It has frequently dazzled him by its pure white light, and he has felt himself to be exceedingly depraved. He has been astonished at his corruption, as the dying saint was when he sighed : " Infinite upon infinite is the wickedness of the heart." With the Psalmist, he has cried out to God : " The entrance of thy words giveth light ; I have seen an end of all perfection, thy commandment is exceed- ing broad." We cannot leave this head of the discourse without di- recting particular attention to the fact, that for the believer the law makes these disclosures of character in a hopeful and salutary manner. In their own nature they are terri- ble. The unbeliever cannot endure them, and hence he avoids them as the criminal avoids the officer of justice. But the believer, by virtue of his union with Christ, and appropriation of his vicarious atonement, has been deliv- ered from the condemning power of the law. The " curse " of the law, Christ his Surety has borne for him. The de- mands of justice have been completely satisfied by the Son of God, his High Priest. This fact places him in a new and secure position in respect to the Divine law and gov- ernment. His legal status, or standing, is safe. There is 200 THE LAW IS LIGHT. no condemnation to liiin as in Christ Jesus. Hence, when- ever he searches his lieart, and compares his character and conduct with the requirements of the Divine law, and finds that he has incurred its condemnation, he does not fall into servile terror and despair, like the impenitent unbeliever. By reason of his faith in Christ's oblation, he is prepared for these revelations. From his high evangelic position, he cries out : " Let the disclosure of character come : let me know the full depth and extent of my guilt and corruption. Christ is my atonement, and his blood cancels everything. Let the righteous law smite me ; it shall be a kindness, in that it leads me to my Redeemer." Hence this light of the Divine law is of a cleansing and illuminating, and not of a burning and blasting nature for the believer. He makes use of the law only for preceptive purposes, in order to know his moral state and condition. And he has no further use for it. He does not expect, or look, to be justified by it. When it demands penalty for the sins that are past, as it righteously does, and he most cordially concedes the right- eousness of the claim, he points it to the satisfying death of Christ. And when it demands a perfect performance of its commands, as it justly does, he looks to Christ for grace, inclination, and power, to render such an obedience. In this way, the believer stands upon a high vantage-ground in reference to law. He enjoys all the beneficent and edu- cating influences of the law, without any of those dreadful judicial and retributive impressions which are experienced by the legalist, the moralist, the unbeliever, upon whom the entire law, both as precept and penalty, weighs down as an intolerable burden, because he has not cast himself and his burden upon Christ. For the legalist has appealed to Caesar, and to Csesar he must go ; the unbelieving, un- evangelic man has referred his ease to justice, and to jus- tice it must go. THE LAW IS LIGHT. 201 Tims is the moral law like the material light, in reveal- ing, in bringing to liglit. And for the believer it is a mild and radiant light which he does not fear, and which his soul loves more and more. Like the cup of a flower, his heart opens itself to the pure ether and element, and drinks it in with eagerness and joy. And as the flower by thus turning towards the light becomes like the light itself in some degree, and acquires an airy and almost im- material texture in the process, so does the Christian's heart come to be a pure and holy thing like the law. The law is in his heart, and appears more and more in his ac- tions, until at length, when that which is perfect is come, his whole nature and entire being is transmuted into a living spontaneous law of righteousness. II. In the second place, the law, for the believer in Christ, attracts like the light. Light in the material world universally attracts. If the smallest pencil of light, through the smallest possible aperture, fall upon the plant in a dark place, it immediately shoots towards it. And when the sun rises up and bathes the world in light, how all nature rises up to meet it. The very leaves of the trees look up, and the flowers spread out with a richer bloom, to welcome its coming. A more vigorous and spirited life circulates throughout nature, and the whole landscape seems as if it were ascending like incense to the God of light. Just so does the moral law attract the world of holy beings. They love the law for jts intrinsic excellence, and seek it with the whole heart. They cannot live without it, and would not live without it if they could. They see in it a tran- script of the character of God whom they adore, and therefore they gaze at it, and study it. " O how I love thy law, it is my meditation all the day," is the utterance of their hearts. And yet more than this. Their very natures are pure like the law ; and like always attracts like. 202 THE LAW IS LIGHT. If there be in any soul even the least degree of real holi- ness, there is a point of attraction upon which the law of God will seize and draw. Holiness is never an isolated thing in any creature. It came from God, and it goes back to God, and returns again increased and strengthened. Hence there is a continual tendency and drift of a holy soul towards the holy Ofie. As the power of gravitation draws with a steady stress all things to the centre, so do truth and righteousness, inhering in the Divine nature, like a vast central force attract all pm*e and holy creatures towards their seat. Have you not, in the more favored hours of your religious life, experienced what the Scrip- ture denominates the " drawing " — the attraction — " of the Father," when by the illumination of his Spirit he dis- closed to you the excellence of his statutes and command- ments, and you panted after conformity with them as the hart panteth after the water-brooks ? Did not the beauty of holiness attract your ardent gaze, and prompt the prayer that it might be realized and seen in your own personal character? As angelic purity dawned more and clearer upon your vision, and you saw how desirable and blessed it is to be spotless and saintly, how glorious the law that disciplines, and regulates, and purifies, appeared to you. You wished that your soul might cast off its old garments of sin and earth, and might go up and bathe forever in the pure, limpid waters of heaven — that your heart might be- come a perfectly clean heart, ever gently yet powerfully drawn by the commandment toward the Sovereign. You said with the Psalmist : " Thy word is very pure, there- fore thy servant loveth it. The law of the Lord is per- fect ; more to be desired is it than gold, yea than much fine gold : sweeter also than honey and the honey-comb," This view of the Divine law as an attractive energy is an encouraging one to the believer. It affords good THE LAW IS LIGHT. 203 grounds for the perseverance of the saints. For this oper- ation of the law of God in a renewed heart is ceaseless and constantly augmenting. As well might we suppose the power of attraction in the material world to be an inter- mittent one, and subject to interruption and cessation, as to suppose it in the spiritual. The great force of gravita- tion never becomes tired and weary in the planets and molecules of matter ; and neither do the truth and Spirit of God within the believer's soul. As the Christian is drawn nearer to God, the influence of the Divine law is greater and greater. It obtains a more complete mastery over his appetites and passions ; it dwells with a more constant res- idence in his affections ; it actuates his conduct with a more delightful and easy power. What a cheering view of the future career of a redeemed spirit does this way of con- templating the moral law present. Forever increasing in its influence, as it is forever drawing the creature nearer its Father and God. The goal is an infinitely distant one, and yet as he is passing along this limitless line he feels an allurement at each and every one of the innumerable points, as powerful and as entirely master of his soul as if he were at the end of the infinite career. III. In the third place, the law, for the believer in Christ, invigorates like light. This point of resemblance between the moral law and the light of the sun is plain, though somewhat less obvious at the first glance. For al- though we more commonly think of the air as the invig- orating element in nature, yet it is true of the light, that its presence is necessar}'^ in order that the spirits of a man may be lively and in vigorous action. That plant which grows up in the darkness is a pale and weak thing. The season of repose and inactivity is the night time. In the hours of darkness, the living powers of the body go to rest, and their instruments, the limbs, are as still and mo- 204 THE IjA^v is light. tionless as wlien death itself has set its seal upon them. But when the world again " covers itself with light as with a garment," man feels its awakening and stimulating power. The living currents of his frame circulate more quickly, spring and buoyancy are imparted, and he " goeth forth unto his work and to his labor until the evening." And not only does man feel the invigoration of light, but nature does also. Mere air is not all that is necessary in order to growth ; the clear shining effulgence of heaven must be poured abroad, that there may be freshness and bloom in the natural woi-ld. Similar to this is the effect of the moral law upon one who is resting upon Christ, both in respect to the law's condemnation and the law's fulfilment. For we cannot but again remind you, that the believer sustains a totally different relation to the Divine law froin that which the unbeliever sustains, and it casts a very different light upon him from that which it darts and flashes into the impeni- tent soul. The steady, cheerful light of a summer's day is very different from the wrathful, fitful lightning of the black thunder-cloud. The power of law to condemn, to terrify, and to slay, as we have before remarked, is de- parted, because Christ has received the stroke of justice upon himself. For the disciple of Christ, the law is no longer a judge, but only an instructor. The terrors of the law have lost their power, and he is relieved from that weakening, benumbing fear of judgment which utterly prevents a cheerful obedience. Fear hath torment ; and no creature can love and serve God while he is in torment. The disciple of Christ is a free and vigorous man spirit- ually^, because his Redeemer has released him from the bondage and anxiety which the law, as a condemning judge, and an inexorable, unhelping exactor, causes in every unbeliever. Take away fear, and take away bond- THE LAW IS LIGHT. 205 age, and you impart energy and courage at once. As soon as a criminal is released from the sentence of death, and his chains are knocked off, his old vigor and life return again ; his frame dilates once more, his eye kindles, and his heart swells and beats again, because he is no longer under sentence of death, and no longer a bond slave. Not only does the law impart spiritual vigor to the be- liever because it has ceased to be his condemning judge, and has become a wise and good schoolmaster to lead him to Christ, but it invigorates him because by virtue of his union with Christ it has become an inward and actuating principle. It is no longer a mere external statute, with which he has no sympathy, and which merely terrifies him with its threat. His heart has been so changed by grace that he now really loves the law of God. The apos- tle Paul, speaking of the sinner and of the sinner's rela- tion to the law, affirms that for such an one " the law is the strength of sin." In case the heart is at enmity with God's commandment, the commandment merely provokes, elicits, and stinmlates the inward depravity, but does nothing towards removing it. The commandment which was ordained to life — which, in a right state of things, was adapted to fill the human soul with peace and joy — is found to be unto death, and actually fills it with despair and woe. But for the believer, this very same law is the strength of holiness. The Psalmist remarks of the right- eous man : " The law of God is in his heart ; none of his steps shall slide." When the human soul is regener- ated, the Divine law is written not merely on but in the tablet of the heart. It becomes a feeling, an affection, an inclination, a disposition within it. Have you ever seen a Christian in whose active and emotional powers the law of God had come to be a second nature ? Have you ever seen one whose actions were easily and sweetly 206 THE LAW IS LIGHT. controlled by the Divine commandment, and whose cen- tral and inmost experiences were but expressions and man- ifestations of it ? And was not that Christian a strong and vigorous one ? Did he not run the race, and fight the fight, with a firm and determined bearing ; calm in adver- sity, equable and serenely joyful in prosperity ; wending his way faithful and fearless into eternity ? Never is the spirit of a man in such a vigorous condition, and its ener- gies in such a healthful and active play, as when it is im- pelled and actuated by law ; and who but the renewed man is thus actuated ? Never is man such a free and spir- ited creature, as when he spontaneously listens to the voice of truth and duty. As the apostle says: He is "filled with the spirit of jyowerP The poet Wordsworth,' per- sonifying the law of order which prevails in the natural world, and which prevails inwardly as all the laws of na- ture do, addresses it thus : Flowers laugh before thee on their beds ; And fragrance in thy footing treads ; Thou dost preserve the stars from wrong ; And the most ancient heavens through thee are fresh and strong. So is it, in a far higher sense, with the law of God in the spiritual world. Wherever it prevails inwardly as a principle, and not outwardly as a threat, there is order, vigor, beauty, and strength. Creatures who listen to it in this spontaneous style are strong in the highest of strength — in the strength of holiness, in the " confidence of rea- son " and righteousness. lY. In the fourth place, the law, for the believer in Christ, rejoices like the light. This feature of resemblance is evident at the ver}'^ first glance. " Truly the light is sweet, and a pleasant thing it is for the eyes to behold the » Ode to Duty. THE LAW IS LIGHT. 207 sun." In nature, the hour of joy is the morning hour. All creatures and things are filled with gladness at the up- rising of the light.' It is related in ancient story that the statue of Memnon, when the first rays of the morning gilded it, began to tremble, and thrill — the hard por- phyritic rock began to tremble, and thrill, and send forth music like a swept harp. Thus does nature thrill under the first touch of light, and warble forth its harmonies. And such, too, is the joy-giving influence of righteous law in the heavenly world, and such is its effect in the indi- vidual believer. What rapture the contemplation of the Divine commands imparted to the heart of the royal harper. How his soul accompanied his harp, in singing with jubilance the praises of its Author. Hear him: " Thy testimonies have I taken as an heritage forever ; for they are the rejoicing of my heart. I rejoice at thy word as one that findeth great spoil." Joy in the law of the Lord — positive, blood-felt delight in having it rule over and in the soul — is the sure sign of a right state. Miserable is that creature of God for whom obedience to law is a task and a disgust. There are no hirelings in heaven. Service there is its own reward. The law of God is to be our companion forever, either as a joy or a sorrow, either as bliss or bale ; and we must, therefore, come into such an inward and affectionate relation to it, as to make it bliss and not woe. We must rejoice in its holy presence, when with a severe and just eye it rebukes our sin, and leads us to the Cross for pardon. We must be gladdened with its benign and enrapturing presence, when with a calm peace in the conscience it rewards us for obe- dience. We must find our heaven in our conformity to ' Compare Schiller's WiUielm Tell, Act I., Scene iv. ; and Milton's Sanason Agonistes, 90-93. 208 THE LAW 18 LIGHT. God. It must be our meat and drink to do the Divine will. For eternity is not lighted by the light of the sun, nor by the light of the moon ; but the Loi'd God himself is the light thereof. The happiness of our spirits, if they are saved, will not be found in material things. It will not issue from the streets of gold, from the gates of pearl, from the jewelry and adornments of a material city. These are but emblems and faint foreshadowmgs. The bliss of the blest will be righteousness, peace, and joy in the Holy Ghost — the consciousness of perfectly loving God, and of being beloved by Him. The creature can have no higher joy than to dwell in God's holy presence, a holy being for- ever. There is no emotion so ecstatic as that which swells the heart that can sincerely say with St. Paul : " I am Christ's, and Christ is God's." Truly the law will be light in that perfect world ; the great sun of the system. It will send out its invigorating and gladdening rays, which will penetrate, like the tremulous undulations of the solar beam, into the inmost spirit. It will warm and quicken the whole heavenly world into life — into holy life, into pure activity, into serene enjoyment. It follows from this unfolding of the subject, that the great act of the Christian is the act oi faith; and the great work of the Christian is to cultivate and strengthen his faith. " This is the work of God, that ye believe on Him whom he hath sent." We have seen that the moral law, like the material light, reveals, attracts, invigorates, and rejoices, only because the soul sustains a certain special relation to it — only because it is trusting in Christ for deliverance from its condemnation, and for grace to fulfil it in future. What then should we do, but with still more energy obey the great command, and believe on the Lord Jesus Christ with a more childlike and entire trust. If the holy law of God has ever cast any cheering and pleasant light upon us. THE LAW IS LIGHT. 209 it has been by virtue of this faith. If the law shall ever become all-controlling within us, it will be through this faith. Faith in the Redeemer is the alpha and omega, the first and the last, the beginning, middle, and end, in the religious experience. This alone renders the moral law an operative and actuating principle within us. By no other method can we ever fulfil the law. We have compared the law to the sun of our system. It is a disputed opinion of some astronomers, that far beyond our sun, and all other suns, there is a point in immensity around which, as the ultimate centre of cen- tres, these myriad suns of myriad systems all circle. That point one has asserted to be the throne of God. So, too — if it be allowable to borrow an illustration from a doubtful physics — if the Divine law, and whatever else there may be in the great immensity of truth, is ever to become an eflScient force and centre of motion for the lost soul, it must all of it revolve around the final centre and power, namely, simple and hearty faith in the Son of God. Faith in Christ sets up the throne of God in the soul, and when this is done, all things come into right relation to it, and move in proper order round it. Let us then pray : "Lord, increase our weak faith." Let us then toil — by reading and meditating upon God's "Word, and by constant supplication for the teaching of the Holy Spirit — after a bolder, firmer, and more operative faith. SEEMON XIV. THE LAW IS THE STRENGTH OF SIN. 1 Corinthians xv. 56. — " The strength of sin is the law." Any man who thinks or feels at all about the sin that is in him, knows that it is strong ; and, also, that it is the strongest principle within him. His will is adequate for all the other undertakings that come up before him in life, but it fails the moment it attempts to conquer and subdue itself. He rules other men, but he does not rule himself ; and, in more senses than one, "he that is slow to anger is better than the mighty, and he that ruleth his spirit than he that taketh a city." The experience of the Christian, likewise, demonstrates that sin is the most powerful antagonist that man has to contend with. That great struggle through which the believer passes, in order to be freed from the bondage of corruption, summons the strongest energies of the soul, and stretches the cords of the inner man to their utmost tension. Nay, more, this heat and stress of the Christian race and fight evinces that man must be " strong in the Lord," in order to overcome sin. " The power of God's might" must descend and dwell in the human soul, or else it will sink in the struggle. And when the finite spirit is endued with this power from on high ; when it is THE LAW IS THE STRENGTH OF SUST. 211 laden, as it were, with the omnipotence of God ; how does it tremble and reel under the burden. When the human soul is pervaded by the presence of its Maker, in the hour 'of searching convictions, and especially of severe struggle with long-indulged habits of sin, how does it stagger to and fro like a drunken man. Were it not that the influ- ences of the Divine Spirit, while they press the soul down, at the same time hold it up, and prevent it from being utterly cast down, the frail creature would not be able to endure such a strain. If the man were all permeated by a power that convicts but does not renovate ; that wakens a sense of guilt, but does not apply the atoning blood ; that sets the whole inward being into commotion, but does not tranquillize it with the sense and assurance of forgive- ness and love ; like the person in the Gospel possessed with a dumb spirit, he would be " torn, and be as one dead." ]^ay, he would be dead with that death of the spirit which is a vitality of anguish. These pangs and throes, attending that process which our Lord denominates a " birth " of the soul, show how stubborn and inveterate is the sin which it subdues and eradicates. What is the cause of this mighty strength of sin ? The apostle in the text asserts, somewhat remarkably, that it is the law of God. " The strength of sin is the law." By the law is meant the sum of all that a rational being ought to do, under all circumstances, and at all times. It is equivalent to duty — using this term to denote the col- lective body or mass, if we may so say, of all the require- ments of conscience upon a man. It includes all that is implied in the word right, and excludes all that we mean by wrong. At first sight, it appeai-s passing strange that a law of this description should, in any sense, be said to be the strength of sin. Yet such is the explicit assertion of an inspired apostle. And elsewhere the same apostle 212 THE LAW IS THE seems to vilify the ten commandments. He tells ns that " when the commandment came, sin revived ; " and that " sin, taking occasion by the commandment, deceived him, and wrought in him all manner of concupiscence." (Rom. vii. 8, 9, 11.) We caunot understand these statements, unless we take into view the difference in the relation which a holy and a sinful being, respectively, sustains to the moral law. The assertion in the text is only a relative one. St. Paul does not lay down an absolute and universal proposition. He means that the pure and holy law of God is the strength of sin for a sinne7\ For the saint, on the con- trary, it is the strength of holiness ; and had the apostle been speaking of the holy, he would have said this. The law is identically the same thing in both cases, and there- fore the difference in its effects must be attributed to the different attitude which the natural and the spiritual man, respectively, holds toward it. In the instance of the holy being, the law of righteousness is an inward and actuat- ing jp7'incij)le. It is his own loved and chosen law, and he obeys it because it is one with his inclination, and he would not do otherwise. But for a sinful being, the law of God is only an outward rule, and not an inward prin- ciple. Law does not work sweetly and pleasantly within the sinner, but stands stern and severe outside of, and over him, commanding and threatening. The moral law is not internal and spontaneous to the natural man. If he attempts to obey it, he does so from fear, or self-interest, and not from the love of it. It is not his own chosen law in which he delights, but a hated statute, to which his heart and inclination are in deadly opposition. The " law of sin " is the sole inward principle that rules him, and his service of sin is spontaneous and willing. In short, the law of righteousness is the strength of sin for the sinner, be- STEENGTH OF SIN. 213 cause it is extraneous, and hostile, to his will and affections. It is written upon his conscience, but not written into his heart. God's law and the human conscience are one and harmonious ; but God's law and the human will are diverse and antagonistic. Hence the Scriptures describe regenera- tion as the inwardizing of the moral law. " This shall be the covenant that I will make with the house of Israel : After those days, saith the Lord, I will put my law in their inward parts, and write it in their hearts ; and 1 will be their God, and they shall be my people." (Jer. xxxi. 33.) According to this description, to regenerate a man is to make the law of God internal, impulsive, and spontaneous, where before it has been external, compulsory, and threat- ening ; it is to convert duty into inclination, so that the man shall know no difference between the commands of God and the desires of his own heart. Before proceeding to unfold and illustrate the truth taught in the text, let us notice the fact, that the two principles, or in St. Paul's phrase " laws," of holiness and sin, which operate in the moral world, in order to have efficiency must be within the heart and will. If the law of righteousness, for example, does not abide and work in the inclination and affections of a man, the mere fact that it is inlaid in his conscience will not secure obedience. The ten commandments may be cut into the hard, unyield- ing stone of the moral sense, but unless they are also written in the soft, fleshy tablet of the heart, they will be in- operative, except in the form of conviction and condemna- tion. The moral law must be " in the members," in St. Paul's phrase — that is, it must be wrought into the feel- ings and disposition of the person — before it can be effect- ual and productive. The laws or principles of holiness and sin may fitly be compared with the great fruitful laws that w^ork and 214 THE LAW IS THE weave in the world of nature. All these laws are internal. They start from within, and work outward. They per- meate and pervade, and not merely affix and attach them- selves to, the products of nature. The principle of life in the tree is not dropped down upon the tree like dew from without, but rises up from within it like an exhalation. How wonderfully productive and mighty, because internal, are the movements of the law of vegetable life, which car- pets with bright flowers the meadows of half a continent, and sends the sap through every twig of every tree in its vast forests. This law lives, and develops itself, within these productions. All this holds true of the mental world, equally with « the physical. In the upper blessed realm of heaven, the law of holiness works as an inward and spontaneous force in every one of its inhabitants. Issuing from the infinite and glorious Fountain of purity, it takes its course through all the happy spirits, producing the fruits of holiness throughout its bright track, and building up a beautiful world of order, light, and purity. And it is equally true, that throughout the realm of hell, the law of sin as an in- ward principle of life and action — self-chosen, it is true, and not forced upon any one, yet internal to the will, and thoroughly inwrought into the affections — is working within every individual member of that world. And the fact that there is such a realm, where the principle of evil in antagonism to the principle of good is unfolding itself, and multiplying its unsightly and deadly products, should make every man thoughtful, and lead him to inquire most ear- nestly : " Am I in and of this realm ? am I, in Christ's phrase, ' from beneath ' ? is the law of sin the inward and actuating principle of my will ? " In the light of this illustration, let us now look more closely at the attitude which the unrenewed will maintains STKENGTH OF SIN". 215 toward the Divine law. The law of righteousness, con- fessedly, is not the inward, actuating force in a sinner's will. It is the law of sin which is " in his members " — which is internal to him — and which, consequently, is the only one that can bear fruits. And how rank and luxuri- ant they are ; with what ease are they produced ; how willingly and spontaneously does he sin. There is nothing artificial or mechanical in man's iniquity. There are no spurious and " dead " works on the side of transgression. Sin is always alive and genuine. Man is never a formal- ist, or a hypocrite, in his disobedience. This work is hearty, and springs from an inward principle. Yet the law of holiness is the one that ought to bear the fruit. But it cannot, until it ceases to be external and threaten- ing, and becomes internal and complacent. So long as the existing inimical relation continues between the moral law and the voluntary faculty ; so long as the law of God is a letter on the statute-book of the conscience, but not a let- ter written in the fleshy tablet of the heart ; so long must it be inoperative, except in the way of death and misery. The law of holiness must cease to be outwardly commina- tory and dreadful, and become inwardly attractive and be- loved, before any fruits of righteousness can spring up. Is not this righteous law " the strength of sin " in us, so long as it merely weighs down with a mountain's weight upon our enslaved wills? so long as- it merely holds a whip of scorpions over our opposing inclination, and lashes it into anger and resistance ? so long as it merely presents the sharp goads of duty that stab our unwillingness ? How can there be any moral growth, in the midst of such a hatred and hostility between the human heart and the moral law ? Cicero tells us that the laws are ineffectual in war-time — '"''silent leges inter armaP And neither can flowers and fruits grow on a battle-field. As well might 216 THE LAW IS THE we suppose that the vegetation which now constitutes the coal-beds grew up in that geological era when fire and water were contending for possession of the planet, as to suppose that the fruits of holiness can spring up when the human will is in obstinate and deadly conflict with the human conscience. So long as the heart of man sustains this outside and hostile relation to holiness, and righteous- ness comes before it as the hated quality and the stern command of another's will, and is not in the least its own sweet inclination, obedience is impossible. The law of righteousness can produce no effects in character and con- duct until it is obeyed from an inward impulse and spon- taneity, as the law of sin now is. We have thus, in a general way, noticed that the Divine law is " the strength of sin," whenever it is an external commandment coupled with a threatening, and not an in- ternal principle coupled with an affection. Let us now consider some particulars which illustrate and explain more fully this doctrine of the text. I. In the first place, so long as the law sustains this ex- traneous relation to the heart and will, there is no genuine obedience. For genuine obedience is voluntary, cheerful, and spontaneous. The child does not truly obey its pa- rent, when it performs an outward act, outwardly insisted upon by its superior, from no inward genial impulse, but solely from the force of fear. So also the moralist, in whom the law has not become a hearty principle of willing action, does not truly comply with it. He may perform some outwardly moral acts, but he does them mechanically and insincerely ; and neither mechanism nor insincerity is of the nature of obedience. It is here that we see the difference between a moral man and a religious man. The moralist attempts, from considerations of prudence, fear, and self-interest, to ex- STRENGTH OF SIN. 217 ternally obey the external and comminatory law of God. It is not a law that he loves, but one which he would keep because of the penalty attached to it. And yet, after all his attempts at obedience, he is conscious of utter failure. In his moments of reflection, he sees that it is no genuine compliance and submission which he renders, and that it is not valid before Him who looketh not on the outward appearance, but upon the heart. And at times, perhaps, he would wish that this selfish attempt to square accounts with his Maker might be supplanted by a free, filial im- pulse of the soul — that his conscience might be converted into his will. But the renewed and sanctified man, so far as he is such, " obeys from the heart the form of doctrine that is delivered " unto him. The holy law, though im- perfectly, yet predominantly, has become his inclination, and overfiows in holy feelings and acts. " The law," in the phrase of the Psalmist, " is within his heart, and none of his steps shall slide." The Holy Spirit has inwardized it. The law has become his natural disposition, and when he acts naturally he acts holily, and when he sins he is uneasy, because sin is unnatural to a renewed heart. Again, we may perceive that the obedience rendered to the law by one who does not feel it to be his own law, is not real and genuine, by noticing the appearance which it exhibits. Everything that is genuine, spontaneous, and voluntary, wears the garb of grace and beauty ; while that which is false, protended, and constrained, has the look of deformit}'. That alone which is alive, and the product of an inward principle, is beautiful. The growing plant, with the dew fresh upon it, immediately attracts our gaze ; but we turn away from the splendid artificial flower. So is it with the appearance which the moralist and the be- liever, respectively, presents. The one is rigid, hard, and formal. "We feel instinctively that he is a precise and un- 10 218 THE^LAW IS THE happy person ; that he rather endures his religion than enjoys it. The other is a free, cheerful, pliant creature. The Son hath made him free, and he is free indeed. His is the obedience of love and of natui-e ; not of fear and compulsion. The principle of spiritual life — the moral law now made internal, and one with his heart and will — is warm and plastic within him, and carries warmth, vigor, and robustness through the whole system. All his acts of obedience to the Divine commands are what we expect from him. They suit him, and wear no forced look. In fine, the difference between the fruits of the law of holi- ness when it is in the heart, and those of the same law when it is merely in the conscience, is like that between those fruits into which the vegetative principle has infused cooling juices, rich flavors, and pleasant odors, and those imitations of fruit which are lifeless and tasteless. Another criterion of genuine obedience is love. But so long as the law sustains this extraneous and hostile relation to the heart and will, there is no love of it, or its Author. Examine the feeling of the unrenewed though perhaps moral man, and do you find that calm, settled affection for the statutes and commandments of God which evinces that they are wrought into the very fibre and texture of the soul ? Have they not been expelled from the affections, and does not the man sometimes wish that he could expel them also from his conscience ? And even if he some- times attempts to obey them because he fears to transgress them, yet does he not, in the depths of his soul, wish that he could free himself from their everlasting restraint? And although, from the same motives of fear or selfish prudence, lie may repress violent outbreaks of passion and rebellion, yet is all within him calm and serene ? Is there not a noiseless friction and wearing within ? Is he not at schism with himself ? Are not conscience and will con- STEENGTH OF SIN. 219 tinually at war ? Even if the surface be placid, and there is not a ripple upon it, yet far down in the fountains of his soul ; in those depths where the feelings, and propen- sities, and all the main and primal agency of the man has its source ; in those lowest recesses, where the real charac- ter of the man is to be sought for ; is there not a restless eddying and whirl ? No man can love God's law in this state of things. No man can have a cordial affection for it, until it becomes the inward and actuating principle, the real inclination of his will ; until his will is renewed, and he obeys the law because he would not do otherwise. Yet the law overhangs him all this while, and since it cannot produce the fruits of peace and holiness, it betakes itself to its other function, and elicits his corruption, and exas- perates his depravity. And thus the law, for the sinner, is the stimulus and strength of sin. II. In the second place, so long as the extraneous relation spoken of continues between law and will, there not only is no true obedience, but obedience is iiivpossHle. For the law is entirely outside of the executive faculty. It is in the conscience, but not in the heart. It consequently gives no impulse and aid to right action, but only passes a penal, damning sentence, the effect of which is paralyzing. The law sternly tells the man that by his own determination and fault he is " dead in trespasses and sins," and condemns him therefor ; but so long as it is merely didactic and comminatory, and not impulsive and indwelling, he derives from it none of that strength which empowers to right- eousness. The man in chains is not animated and assisted to freedom, by being merely informed that he is chained, or by being sternly commanded to tear off his chains. Until the law has become the loved and chosen law of the will, as well as the organic law of the conscience, it cannot be obeyed. God's law follows man like God's oranipres- 220 THE LAW IS THE ence, and if he ascend into heaven it has authority there, and if he descend into hell even there conscience affirms that it must be obeyed ; but wheresoever it follows him, if he does not love it he cannot obey it, if it is not in his will it can produce no fruits of holiness. The tree cannot bear fruit, if the principle of life is outside of it. The tree is dead. But in the Christian, the law of holiness, by virtue of his regeneration and union with Christ, has become in- ward, spontaneous, and voluntary. It is no longer a mere fiery letter in his conscience, giving him knowledge of his sinfulness, and distressing him therefor ; but it is a glow- ing and genial impulse in his heart. His duty is now his inclination, and his now holy inclination is his duty. The two are one, and undivided in his consciousness. The schism in the soul is healed. Through the renewing in- fluences of the Spirit of God, the commandment has again become a vital force in the soul, as it was before the fall. As the apostle calls it, it is " the law of the Spirit of life in Christ Jesus " — the living spirit of law. And this is the reason why the Christian, in proportion to the close- ness of his union to Christ, and the simplicity of his faith in Him, finds it easy, pleasant, and natural to keep the Divine law. The law in a Christian is spontaneous and self-executing. Says an old divine: "The law of the Spirit of life within the renewed will is as if the soul of music should incorporate itself with the instrument, and live in the strings, and make them, of their own accord, and without any touch or impulse from without, dance up and down and warble out their harmonies." ' 1. This subject as thus unfolded shows, in the first place, that it is an immense worh to make such an entire ■ Cudworth : Sermon before the House of Commons. STRENGTH OF SIN. 221 change and reversal in the relations that now exist between man's will and the Divine law. The problem is, to trans- mute the law of God into the very inclination of a man, so that the two shall be one and the same thing in the personal experience, and the man shall know no difference between the dictates of his conscience and the desires of his heart. The investigation has demonstrated that there is now, not only no such unity and unison between will and conscience in man, but that the former is deadly hos- tile to the latter, and wholly extraneous to it. It shows, moreover, that until the right harmonious relation is es- tablished again between these two fundamental parts of man ; until the constitutional and the voluntary are once more in unison ; all other adjustment is useless, so far as the eternal world is concerned ; that it is in reality no ad- justment at all ; that the man must, in our Lord's phrase, " make the tree good, and so the fruit good, or else let it remain corrupt, and its fruit corrupt." "We appeal to the daily experience of every thinking person, whether this is not the truth. Are we not aware, that if our will and affections do not undergo such a change in their central determination and inmost bent, that the law of holiness becomes spontaneous to them, and vital within them, all of our desultory attempts under the goadings of conscience to keep it are in vain ? Do we not know that unless our heart is in the work of obedience, we do not and cannot obey ? When the law of God, reaching to every thought, and to every word, merely stands over us, and above us, commanding and threatening, and our wills and affections are hostile and resistant, instead of being sweetly blended and accordant, do we not see that nothing holy and spiritual can be done in this state of things ? So long as our executive and affectionate powers stand in this alien and outside relation to the law, can 222 THE LAW IS THE there be any geniality or complacency toward it ? Until we can say with the Psalmist : " I delight to do thy will, O my God ; yea, thy law is within my heart," can we ren- der the Psalmist's obedience ? The change in the human soul which establishes this inward relation and accordancy between will and con- science, is denominated in Scripture a "birth," a "new creation," and is the most marked change which a rational spirit can undergo, with the exception of that great catas- trophe by which it falls from the heavens to the hells. Without such a change, the being is in continual antago- nism and war with himself, and with God. " There are times," says Tholuck, " in the life of the natural man, when he seems to be possessed with a demon that tears and weakens him. When, with the swelling power of passion circling in his veins, and the whole world with its enjoyments opens itself wide for his gratification, he hears the solemn voice of law saying : ' Deny thyself, deny thy- self,' what commotion rises within him ! What wonder is it, if, when excited to madness by this holy commandment which he hates but fears, he cries out : ' Let me tear ofE these bands ; let me cast away these cords ' ? " ' Such a commotion and ferment, which more or less violent arises in the soul of man in some periods of his life here on earth, and will last forever if it is not stilled by a work of grace within, evinces that in our natural state we are not in right relations ; for where right relation exists there is harmony and peace. This fact must be acknowledged to ourselves, and receive our earnest attention. This renova- tion of the affections and the will — this production of new character — must occur here in this world, or it will never occur. And after its occurrence, it will still be a slow and > Tholuck : Predigten, IL 54. STRENGTH OF SIIS". 223 toilsome process to root out the remainders of sin, and re- move the last elements of discord and dissension from the soul. 2. The second inference from this subject must have been already anticipated — that this inwardizing of the Divine law ; this " putting the law in the inward parts, and writing it in the heart " (Jer, xxxi. 33) ; is the work and office of the Holy Ghost. It is the result of God's " working in man to will and to do." Sinful man is spir- itually impotent, and feels himself to be so, particularly when he undertakes to become the very contrary of what he is ; when he tries to make himself as totally holy as he is totally sinful. Let a man look into his own soul, and see how spontaneously he now does wrong, and how delicious it now is to indulge himself in that which is forbidden ; and then let him remember, that in order to heavenly perfec- tion and blessedness he must come into such an exactly contrary moral state, that it will be just as spontaneous for him to do right, and just as delicious for him to keep the commandments of God — let him, we repeat, look into his heart and see what the character now is, and what it must become in order to heaven, and then say if he does not need the operation and aids of Divine grace. Nothing so throws a man upon his knees, and prompts the utterance : " I am the clay, be thou the potter ; turn thou me and I shall be turned ; purge me with hyssop and I shall be clean ; create within me a clean heart, O God " — nothing so drives man away from himself to his Maker and Sa- viour, as a clear understanding of the immensity of the work that must be done within his own soul before it is fit for the heavenly state. The subject clearly demonstrates the necessity of the new birth, and of the sanctification of body, soul, and spirit, that follows it. " Except a man be born again, he 224 THE LAW IS THE STRENGTH OF SIIST. cannot see the kingdom of God." We have seen from the unfolding of the text, and human experience will corrob- orate it, that so long as the Divine law is not an inward principle of willing and cheerful action for us, and we do not love it from the heart, it can only be " the strength of sin " for us. It only accuses of sin ; it only revives and stimulates the inward corruption ; it only detects and brings sin to light. This is all the law can do for us as sinners. The Word of God informs us of a method by which this state of things can be changed, and we can stand in the same relation to the law of righteousness that God himself does, and the holy angels. It is by the wash- ing of regeneration, and the renewing of the Holy Ghost. If we ask for this we shall receive it. If we seek it, we shall find it. " For if ye being evil know how to give good gifts unto your children, how much more shall your heavenly Father give the Holy Spirit to them that ask him." We must pray importunately and incessantly for renewing and sanctifying grace. When God answers that prayer — and, in the parable of the widow and the unjust judge, Christ commands every man to pray until he gets an answer — when God answers that prayer, the law of ho- liness shall be made the strength of holiness in our heart and in our will. It shall become a living principle within us forever, gathering strength and acquiring settled firm- ness as we pass on through the ages of a blessed eternity, and producing in richer and richer bloom the fruits of holiness and love. SERMOK XY. THE SENSE OF SIN LEADS TO HOLINESS, AND THE CONCEIT OF HOLINESS LEADS TO SIN. John ix. 41. — "Jesus said unto them, If ye were blind, ye should have no sin : but now ye say, We see ; therefore your sin renaaineth." Some of the most striking and significant teachings of Christ are put into the form of a verbal contradiction. Taking them literally, they not only contain no sense, but are not even self -consistent. Such, for example, is the declaration that " he that findeth his life shall lose it, and he that loseth his life shall find it." If we read this text in its connection, so as to understand the intent of our Lord's teaching, we not only comprehend it, but we per- ceive that he could not have adopted a more terse and effective mode of conveying his meaning. The apparent and verbal contradiction : " He that finds his life shall lose his life, and he that loses his life shall find his life," only serves to impress the lesson all the more vividly upon the mind. The same remark holds true of such sayings as these : " Whosoever hath not, from him shall be taken away even that he hath. Therefore speak I to them in parables ; because they seeing, see not ; and hearing, they hear not." In these instances the impressiveness of the truth taught is all the greater, from its being couched in terms that would nonplus a mere verbal critic. For such 10* 226 THE SENSE OF SIN. a critic would begin his analysis and ask : " How can any- thing be taken away from one who has nothing ? How can a man see and not see ; how can he hear and not hear; at one and the same time ? " The passage of Scripture which we have chosen for a text is another striking example of the same sort. " Jesus said unto them, If ye were blind, ye should have no sin : but now ye say, We see ; therefore your sin remaineth." This startling statement had been preceded, and called out, by another equally startling and apparently self -con- tradictory. For Christ had said to the Pharisees : " For judgment I am come into this world, that they which see might be made blind." Here, if we interpret the language in a bald and literal manner, the Son of God represents his mission to be one of darkness and not of light. He who calls himself the light of the world, here speaks of himself as coming into it, not for the purpose of illumi- nating the human soul, but of darkening it. The Pharisees were perplexed by such a statement, and asked : " Are we blind also ? " To whom our Lord made the reply : " If ye were blind, ye should have no sin : but now ye say. We see ; therefore your sin remaineth." That is to say : "If ye Pharisees felt yourselves to be blind ; if ye were conscious of your mental darkness ; ye would open your hearts to me, the light of the world, and the sin of unbelief, which is the greatest of sins, would no longer be chargeable upon you. But ye are self-satisfied ; ye feel no need of my teachings ; ye say in the pride of your minds, We see ; therefore the sin of unbelief remains and rests upon you." We condense the teaching of this passage of Scripture in the proposition, that the sense of sin leads to holiness^ and the conceit of holiness leads to sin. I. In the first place, the sense of sin conducts to holi- THE CONCEIT OF HOLINESS. 227 ness, upon the general principle of demand and sujpply. We are in the habit of saymg, in respect to earthly affairs, that the demand will always create a supply. If one nation requires grain from abroad, another nation will plant, and sow, and reap, to meet the requisition. If America needs certain manufactured fabrics which it can- not well produce, the artisans of Paris and Lyons will toil to furnish them. From year to year, in the world of trade and commerce, the wants of mankind are met by the operation of this principle. Though there may be a temporary dearth, and the demand may go unsupplied for a time, yet this does not continue long. The rise in value stimulates production, and the empty markets are filled again, perhaps to repletion. The same fact meets us in the operations of Divine Providence. The goodness of God is over all his works. He opens his hand, and satisfies the desire of every living thing. He gives to the beast his food, and to the young ravens when they cry. The supply equals the demand. This is the ordinary and common course in the physical world, under the government and providence of God. Famines are the exception, and not the rule. Seed-time and harvest fail not from century to century. The de- mand for food is supplied. And there is no surplus to be wasted. There is a wonderful adjustment between the physical wants of man and the physical objects that meet them. Though harvests of grain wave over the whole globe, and millions of mouths are to be fed, the com and wheat of the world never falls alarmingly short, and, what is equally remarkable, never rots in large amounts in the granaries. How wonderful is that eye which sees the end from the beginning, and though there is an infinitude of elements that enter into the problem — millions of hungry mortals, and billions of bushels of grain — yet, as in the 228 THE SENSE OF SIN. instance of the manna, " he that had gathered much had nothing over; and he that had gathered little had no lack." Under the ordinary care of Providence, every man, in the phrase of Malthus, finds a cover laid for him at the table of nature ; and those are the exceptions in which the craving creature is sent empty away ; in which the demand is not met by the supply. Much more is this ti-ue within the kingdom of religion and grace. If God is ready and desirous to meet a demand within the physical sphere ; if his benevolence leads him to feed the ravens, and " providently cater for the sparrow ; " his mercy and compassion render him still more ready and willing to supply the spiritual wants of his sinful creatures. We do not Realize it, and perhaps we do not believe it, but it is a blessed and actual fact that God takes greater pleasure in filling the hungry soul, than the hungry mouth ; in feeding the immortal spirit, than in feeding the mortal body. His declaration is explicit, that he is more willing to give the IJoly Spirit to them that ask him, than an earthly parent is to give bread to his children. If there were only a deinand upon the part of man for the heavenly food, as urgent and importunate as there is for the earthly food, the supply would be immediately forth- coming, and in infinite abundance. If man craved grace as much as he craves wealth, or honor, the heavens would drop down and dissolve in a rain of righteousness. Were mankind as hungry for holiness and purity as they are for bread ; did the human soul pant for God as it does for pleasure and fame ; the consequences would astonish men and angels. For no sinful creature, so long as he is under an economy of grace, can come to know his religious neces- sities without crying out for a supply. Can a man hunger, without begging for food ? Can he thirst, without pleading for water ? Neither can a sinner become conscious of his THE CONCEIT OF HOLINESS. 229 corruption, without praying : " Create within me a clean heart O God, and renew within me a right spirit." And whenever this is done, it is absohitely certain that the necessities of the soul will be supplied from God, their ap- propriate source ; that the supply will equal the demand. The promises of God are more explicit and unconditional in respect to heavenly blessings, than in reference to earthly. We are permitted, for example, to pray for our earthly bread, for physical health and strength, for the divine blessing upon our worldly affairs. And there is no doubt that such requests are often granted. But it is not so surely certain that God will answer the prayer for daily bread, as it is that he will answer the prayer for the for- giveness of sin. You may beg God to restore you to health from sickness ; to give you competence instead of poverty ; and he may see fit not to grant your prayer. But if you put up the publican's petition : " God be mer- ciful to me a sinner ; " if you entreat with David : " De- liver me from blood-guiltiness O God, thou God of my salvation ; " you will certainly obtain an answer. For the forgiveness of sin is a spiritual blessing, and it can never do you any injury to grant it. Your prayer for health or earthly prosperity, if answered, might harm your soul for time and eternity. But there is no danger to your soul in pardoning its sins ; and now that Christ has made an atonement for sin, there is no danger to the Divine govern- ment in such a remission. You may be uncertain, there- fore, whether in the instance of a supplication for tem- poral blessings you will obtain them ; and whenever you pat up such a petition, you must couple it with the proviso ; " If it seem good unto thee, O God ; and if not, then thy will and not mine be done." But when you ask God to be merciful unto you, and sprinkle your conscience with the blood of Christ ; when you beseech him to change 230 THE SENSE OF SIN. your earthly and corrupt nature into liis own pure and holy likeness ; you need not put in this proviso. For God has expressly informed you that it is always his will that a sinner repent of his sin, and seek the Divine mercy in the blood of Christ ; that it is always his desire that the " wicked forsake his way and the unrighteous man his thoughts ; " and that he is always inclined to have mercy upon a penitent man, and to abundantly pardon him. Hear the declaration upon this point, precisely as it stands in the fifty -fifth chapter of Isaiah. " Seek ye the Lord while he may be found, call ye upon him while he is near. Let the wicked forsake his way, and the unrighteous man his thoughts : and let him return unto the Lord, and he will have mercy upon him ; and to our God, for he will abun- dantly pardon. For my thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are your ways my ways, saith the Lord. For as the heavens are higher than the earth, so are my ways higher than your ways, and my thoughts than your thoughts." In all this cordial invitation and generous promise, there are no limitations specified. Our merciful God and Sa- viour does not tell us that he will forgive sin, and sanctify the sinful &o\x{, provided he sees it to be compatible with the attributes of his own nature, with the administration of his government, and with the best interests of the crea- ture so to do. All this is provided for. The death of Christ has already made the pardon of sin compati- ble with the Divine attributes, and the Divine govern- ment; and the pardon of sin never had anything in it that conflicts with the best interests of the sinner. The invitation is : " Come, for all things are ready." Having given his Son, God can now with him give all spiritual blessings. The greater includes the less. There are now no limitations, or obstructions, in the way of granting these spiritual gifts to any sinner who wants them ; and we may THE CONCEIT OF HOLINESS. 231 approach the throne of the heavenly grace, and ask for them " without an if or an and." Whoever goes to God asking, in the name of Christ, such gifts as the remission of sin and the sanctification of his heart, needs put in no proviso. To bestow such gifts as these always promotes the glory of God, and always promotes the eternal welfare of the creature. Therefore this prayer is always heard, if it be presented through the Mediator. " This is the con- fidence that we have in him, that if we ask anything ac- cording to his will [i.e., in accordance with his method of salvation in Christ] , he heareth us : and if we know that he hear us, whatsoever we ask [i.e., if we know that our petition belongs to the class that is invariably granted] , we know that we have the petitions that we desired of him." 1 John V. 14, 15. Bnt all this abundant supply supposes a demand. All this free grace postulates a sense of sin. No man can pray this prayer for a spiritual blessing ; this prayer which is always answered ; this prayer which is not hampered by provisos ; unless he hungers for mercy, and hungers for holiness. And he cannot hunger for mercy and holiness unless he feels his destitution. The penitent conscious- ness of sin is always attended with a spiritual craving ; and the spiritual craving always finds the spiritual supply in the gospel ; and thus we see the truth of the first part of our proposition, that a sense of sin leads indirectly and ultimately to holiness. II. We are now ready to show, in the second place, that the conceit of holiness leads to sin. And here we are met in the very outset with the fact, that a conceit is in its oton nature sin. It is self-deception ; an imaginary opin- ion, founded upon no real basis. A conceited man is, in so far, a bad man. His self-flattering opinion may relate to a matter of minor importance, or of major importance 232 THE SENSE OF SIN. — to the features of his face, or the qualities of his char- acter — but just so far as in either instance his judgment is warped and false, there is moral obliquity in him. There is pride ; and pride in all its forms is sin. A conceit of holiness, then, is sin and leads to more sin. The disposition of the Pharisee — the disposition to say, " We see " — is an insuperable obstacle to every good and gracious affection in the heart. Christianity is eminently a religion for the poor in spirit ; for those who have no self -flattering confidence. Conceit, therefore, in all its modes and degrees, utterly prevents the rise and progress of holiness within the soul. But more than this, the con- ceit of holiness exerts a positively corrupting influence upon the heart. Its effect is not merely negative. It not only prevents a man from becoming meek and lowly, but it puffs him up with pride, and fills him with sin. Let us examine this point somewhat in detail. Religion is both a matter of the understanding, and of the heart. It consists in a true knowledge of Divine things, and a proper feeling in view of them. Spiritual perception in combination with spiritual emotion consti- tutes the sum and substance of practical holiness. If either is lacking, or deficient, the character is lacking, or deficient. What now is the effect of a conceit of holiness upon a man's knowledge of God and himself ? The apos- tle Paul answers this question very flatly, when he says : " If any man think that he knoweth anything, he knoweth nothing yet, as he ought to know." Self -flattery is fatal to all spiritual discernment. In the first place, it prevents a true knowledge of one's own heart. The Pharisee who said in his self-complacency : " God I thank thee that I am not as other men are," was utterly ignorant of his own character. He imagined that he knew everything in re- spect to himself, but he knew absolutely nothing as he THE CONCEIT OF HOLINESS. 233 ought to have known. Wrapped up in a false opinion and estimate of his own righteousness, he was not only blind, but utterly impervious to the light. And in the second place, self-conceit precludes all true knowledge of God. The apostle John tells us, that " he that loveth not knoweth not God, for God is love." There must be some holy affinity between the heart of man and the Divine nature, in order that the former may apprehend the latter. And there must be humility also, in order to a spiritual discernment. God repulses a proud intellect. He will not permit it to enter the secret penetralia of his being. He shuts himself up from all haughty scrutiny on the part of his creatures ; and the history of human speculation is the record of the baffled attempts of man's pride of under- standing to comprehend the Infinite and Eternal. " To this man will I look, saitli the Lord, even to him that is poor, and of a contrite spirit, and trembleth at my word." Whether, therefore, we have reference to the knowledge of self, or to the knowledge of God, we see that a conceit of holiness conducts to sin. That spiritual discernment which is one whole side and phase of holiness is utterly vitiated by it. So long as it exists, a man can know neither himself nor his Maker. And without knowledge religion is impossible. The other side of holiness consists in the aifections of the heart. " Thou shalt love the Lord thy God with all thy heart, and thy neighbor as thyself." The injurious influence of a conceit of holiness upon the emotions is even more apparent than upon the perceptions. Our feelings are shy and retiring, and hence it is more difficult to feel than it is to understand. How often does a man say : " I perceive the truth, but I do not realize it." And nothing is more deadening to emotion than pride. In everyday life, we observe the hardening effect of this vice. Let 234 THE SENSE OF SIN. man or woman be carried, bj prosperity, out of the circles in which pure tastes and moderate desires rule, into the circles of frivolous and ambitious life, and how rapidly do the feelings die out of the soul. The ingenuous and beau- tiful emotiveness which marked the early life disappears, and a cold, unemotional self-coUectedness takes its place. The flush and bloom of the soul is dried up by the arid breath of artificial society ; by the " pride of life ; " and all that is substituted in the place of it is a thin, hard var- nish, or a still harder enamel. But bad as this is in the social sphere, it is yet worse and more fatal in the prov- ince of religion. If you would extinguish all religious sensibility within yourself, become a pharisee. " The leaven," says our Lord — the characteristic quality — " of the pharisee, is hypocrisy." Not necessarily deliberate and intentional hypocrisy, but any self-deception, any false conceit or opinion. A man may be hypocritical without deliberately putting on the cloak of false appearances. It is not necessary that he should take a trumpet, and go out into the street and sound the trumpet, and make a long prayer. This is only the extreme of the sin. Any degree of self-complacency, any degree of false estimate of our own character, belongs to the species. So long as I do not smite upon my breast and cry, " God be merciful to me a sinner ; " so long as I cherish any grade of self-righteous- ness, any false conceit of myself ; I am pharisaical. Our Lord undoubtedly intended to make but two general classes, by relating that story of the publican and pharisee ; and his searching eye sees in every individual man, either the spirit of the self-righteous, or the spirit of the self- condemned. The leaven of the pharisee is the leaven of human nature — the disposition to think more highly of ourselves than we ought to think, and the indisposition to think soberly, humbly, and truthfully. And this leaven THE CONCEIT OF HOLINESS. 235 of the pharisee accounts for the absence of religious sensi- bility which everywhere meets us. So long as this false estimate is characteristic of men, it is impossible for them to feel seriously and tenderly the claims of God, and the plague of the heart. Here, too, as in every other prov- ince, pride hardens and deadens the emotions. Here, too, the conceit of holiness, the false self -estimate, leads to sin. The practical lesson derivable from this text, as thus unfolded, is a plain and serious one. We learn from it, the necessity of obtaining the sense of sin. Our Lord said to the Pharisees : " For judgment I am come into the world, that they which see not might see, and that they which see might be made blind." One great purpose of his mission was to make a discrimination of character, by the searching tests which he should apply. If, therefore, we would obtain any eternal benefit from his mission, we must enter into the spirit of it, and work in accordance with it. And the only mode in which we can do this, is to acquire the consciousness of sin. It is our first duty, to become " blind." So long as we think that we " see," or say that we " see," we are out of all saving relations to the gospel, and cannot become Christians. It was the remark of a thoughtful philosopher, that the beginning and foundation of true science is a willingness to be ignorant. By this he meant, that if the human mind proudly insists upon a perfect comprehension of everything, it will comprehend nothing. He advocated, therefore, a moderate and modest estimate of the powers of the human understanding, an acknowledgment and recognition of the mysteries of religion and of nature, and, generally, a reverent and humble attitude of the mind to- ward all truth. But with how much more truth can it be said, that the beginning and foundation of religion is a 236 THE SENSE OF SIN. willingness to be ignorant, and poor, and blind, and naked. Though, therefore, the teaching is old and oft-repeated, let us urge it once more upon you, to seek a sense of pov- erty, of ignorance, and of sin, that you may be prepared for the riches, the knowledge, and the holiness of the gos- pel. The instant a vacuum is produced, the atmospheric air will rush into it. And the instant any human soul be- comes emptied of its conceit of holiness, and of its self- righteousness ; the instant it becomes an aching void, and reaches out after something purer and better ; it is filled with what it wants. The sense of sin operates very much like an instinct in the physical world. An instinct is an uneasy feeling of want, that leads to some action or movement. The young bird, for example, that has never yet left the nest, when its wings and feathers have reached the proper point of maturity, begins to be restless. It wants to fly. Instinct, that most mysterious characteristic which the Creator has impressed upon the entire animal world, is drawing the little creature away from the narrow house in which it was hatched, into the wide and boundless firmament of heaven. And it will never be freed from this restlessness, until it actually spreads its wings, and soars away never to come back. Now, a sense of sin — a true and penitent sense of sin — operates in the same manner. It is a rest- less and uneasy feeling in the human soul, that leads to some action or movement. It is true that it differs from a healthy physical instinct, in that it is a token of disease, and not of health. The instinct of the little bird, leading it to fly, is a part of its original created nature ; a part of that primal creation which God pronounced " good ; " while the sense of sin in apostate man results from moral disease, and is indicative of a perversion of man's original constitution. Still the result is the same, in each instance. THE CONCEIT OF HOLINESS. 237 The penitent sense of sin fills man with a dissatisfaction with his present condition, and an aspiration after a better one. He becomes weary of the narrow nest of time, and earth, and sense, and sin. He longs to soar out of it, and beyond it, into the firmament of God. Can you wonder, therefore, that the preacher, in all ages of the Church, has said so much concerning the sense of sin ? that he is so constantly urging upon his hearers, the importance and necessity of becoming conscious of the plague of the heart? He knows that when this point is reached, the principal part of the work, so far as his agency is concerned, is accomplished ; and that so long as his hearers are destitute of this experience, nothing has been done, and nothing can be done, toward their spir- itual welfare. There must be awakened within them a spiritual instinct, an internal uneasiness, a restless craving for something different, and something better. They must cease saying, " We see," and begin to confess and cry out, " "We are blind, and poor, and miserable, and naked, and in want of all things." Get, then, a conviction and sense of personal unworthi- ness before God. Dismiss all other aims and enterprises, and direct your thoughts, and efforts, and prayers, to this one thing. It would be worth the toil of many years, if you could thereby induce into your hearts such a sense of sin as that to which David gives utterance in the fifty-first psalm ; to which the publican gave expression when he smote upon his breast, and cried, " God be merciful to me a sinner ; " to which the prodigal son gave expression when he said, " Father, I have sinned against heaven and before thee." The devotee of mammon will toil for years to ac- quire a fortune ; the devotee of art will " scorn delights, and live laborious days," to become a great painter, or a great sculptor. Each of these men can say : " This one 238 THE SENSE OF SIN. tiling I do." Each of them is a man of one idea. Bat there is something more important than wealth and art. The everlasting peace and pnritj of the soul is of infi- nitely greater moment than any painting or statue, than mountains of gold and silver. And the way to this peace and purity is through the consciousness of corruption. We get the beatific vision, b}'^ first becoming " blind." It is the sense of sin that leads to holiness. We urge you to become a devotee to this subject, a man of this one idea. Determine to know yourself, whether you know anything else or not. Dare to be ignorant of many things, if thereby you can acquaint yourself with God and be at peace. Toil for a knowledge of your own heart, as you would toil to understand chemistry, if your aspiration were to become a chemist ; to understand the Greek lan- guage, if it were your ambition to become a Grecian. With what cheering emotions would the people of God, and the angels of God, view such an earnestness upon the part of the unregenerate. How hopeful would the Chris- tian Church become, if it should suddenly discover that men were betaking themselves to the study of their own corrupt natures, and were determined to find out how sin- ful they actually are in the sight of God. As an encouragement to this endeavor, we remind you, in conclusion, that in it you may confidently rely upon the aid and influence of the Holy Spirit ; upon the teaching and illumination of the Third Person in the Godhead. Should you propose to yourself to become merely a chem- ist, or a Greek scholar, or a sculptor, or a millionaire, you would not necessarily rely upon any such aid or influence. You might work with the ordinary powers and faculties of the human soul, sustained by the ordinary power of Di- vine Providence. A man does not need the supernatural influences of the Holy Ghost, in order to become either THE CONCEIT OF HOLINESS. 239 learned or wealthy. And too generally scholars and mil- lionaires toil on in their own strength, without even know- ing whether there be any Holy Ghost. But in everything pertaining to religion, and the wel- fare of the soul, we are entirely dependent upon gracious influences and impressions. And in urging you to this toil and effort to obtain a humble sense of personal unworthi- ness before God, we say unto you in the language of the apostle : " Work, for it is God that worketh in you." We remind you of the great and cheering motive which you have to commence the study of your own heart, in the fact that the Holy Spirit is the Searcher of the heart, and his enlightening influences are promised and proffered. Were you to be isolated from God, and to be compelled to ac- quire this salutary self-knowledge by your own unaided scrutiny, we should have no hope of your succeeding. The human heart is deceitful above all things, and its innumer- able devices and self -flatteries would be too much for you. The very heart which is to be searched, and whose corrup- tion is to be discovered, would persuade you that all is well, and that your anxiety is needless, or greatly exagger- ated. But God is greater than our heart, and knoweth all things. He understands the devices and deceits of the human soul, and will conduct every man safely through them who submits to his guidance. From this time forth, then, scrutinize your personal character, in reliance upon the inward illumination of the truth and Spirit of God. Your first and indispen- sable work and duty is, in our Lord's phrase, to become " blind " — to become conscious of mental darkness and ignorance. Christ has " come into the world, that they which see not might see, and that they which see might be made blind." One would think it to be an easy and a simple matter, to comply with such a requisition. 240 THE SENSE OF SIN. "We are not commanded or expected to furnish the light ; but merely to become sensible of our darkness. God does not oblige us to create the food by which our souls live, but simply to hunger after it. We have only to open our mouths, and he will fill them. By his prophet he says : " Open thy mouth wide, and I will fill it. Come, buy wine and milk, without money and without price." All spiritual blessings, from first to last, are gifts of God, without any equivalent being expected from us. This knowlege of our hearts, of which we have been speaking, is one of these gratuities. Any man can have it for the asking. If, therefore, any man neglects it, and does not come into possession of it, it is because he dislikes it. He does not want to know his own heart. He prefers to con- tinue in ignorance. And for a soul that desires to remain in the ignorance of sin ; that prefers the darkened under- standing of the state of nature, to the enlightened mind of the state of grace ; there is no hope. If there is no de- mand, there is no supply. To such a soul must be ad- dressed those solemn words of our Lord : " Light has come into the world ; but thou lovest darkness rather than light, because thy deeds are evil." SEEMON XVI. THE IMPRESSION MADE BY CHRIST'S HOLINESS. Luke V. 8. — "When Simon Peter saw it, he fell down at Jesus' knees, saying : Depart from me ; for I am a sinful man, O Lord." The occurrence which called forth this at first sight sin- gular request from Peter, is one of the many interesting incidents which throw such a charm over the narratives of the Evangelists. Christ had entered into the fishing- boat of his newly called disciple, that, free from the press- ure of the people who thronged to hear him, he might teach them those truths which are spirit and life to all who receive them into good and honest hearts. Having ended his discourse, he requested Peter to move his boat into deeper water, farther from the shore, and to " let down his net for a draught." The disciple complied with the request, more, it would seem, from respect to his Mas- ter, than from any expectation of a successful result, for he says : " Master, we have toiled all the night and have taken nothing ; nevertheless at thy word I will let down the net." But that word was the word of " Him by whom all things were made, and without whom was not anything made that was made." Though the disciple did not at that moment realize it, yet God Almighty was standing be- side him in the little fishing-boat — that infinite Being who possesses a mysterious power over all the world of natural n 242 THE IMPRESSION MADE as well as spiritual life. Hence the miraculous draught of fishes which followed the obedience of Peter. This won- derful event came unexpectedly upon him. The certainty that he was in the presence of a higher Being than man, then flashed upon him. "With this knowledge, a sense of his own sinfulness arose within him, and the spontaneous utterance of his heart was : " Depart from me, O Lord, for I am a sinful man." This is the natural effect of all immediate and startling manifestations of the Deity to fallen man. The flash of lightning produces a twinge of conscience ; the roll of thunder makes the guilty tremble.' Should God instan- taneously rend the heavens and come down, as he will in the day of doom, every eye would see him, and every soul would be conscious of sin. When the same dread Being, by a series of searching and significant questions respecting the wonderful movements and processes in the world of nature, had brought into clear light his own great- ness and majesty. Job, the sinful man, answered the Lord and said : " Behold, I am vile ; what shall I answer Thee ? I will lay my hand upon my mouth." Those questions which God put out of the whirlwind : " Where wast thou when I laid the foundations of the earth ? Hast thou commanded the day-spring to know its place ? Hast thou entered into the springs of the sea, or hast thou walked in the search of the depth ? Doth the hawk fly by thy wis- dom, and stretch her wings towards the south ? Doth the eagle mount up at thy command, and make her nest on high ? " — these significant questions were, for the patriarch, what this miraculous draught of fishes was for the apostle. And hence the like result in each instance — an abasing sense of sin in the more immediate presence of God. In that hour when the fingers of a man's hand came forth ' Compare Horace, Odes, I. xxxiv. BY cheist's holiness. 243 and wrote incandescent letters upon the wall of the palace, the countenance of Belshazzar, the guilty Babylonian monarch, was changed, and his thoughts troubled him, so that the joints of his loins were loosed, and his knees smote one against another. (Dan. v. 6.) "When Daniel, the man greatly beloved of God, yet not freed from the taint of mortal corruption, saw the vision of the contending em- pires, and heard the explanatory words of the archangel Gabriel, " he fainted and was sick certain days." And when he afterwards saw, upon the banks of Hiddekel, One clothed in linen, whose loins were girded with fine gold of Uphaz, his body like the beryl, his face as the appearance of lightning, his eyes as lamps of fire, his arms and his feet like in color to polished brass, and the voice of his words like the voice of a multitude, " there remained no strength in him : for his comeliness was turned into cor- ruption, and he retained no strength." (Dan. viii. 27 ; x. 8.) There are various modes in which the Divine character is brought vividly before the mind, and thus the feeling of sinfulness educed. There are many objects which are the occasion of directing attention to the holiness and immac- ulateness of God, and thus, by contrast, of disclosing the imperfection and pollution of man. Material nature is full of symbols, which are a kind of language by which the soul is told of spiritual truths. " The heavens declare the glory of God." The clear cerulean sky speaks of God's purity to the soul that desires and strives to be pure, and sorrowfully feels its corruption. The crimson of the clouds that gather round the rising sun reminded the guilt-smit- ten and lowly Cowper, of the blood which cleanses and atones : " Light appears with early dawn While the sun makes haste to rise ; See His bleeding beauties drawn On the blushes of the skies. " 244 THE IMPRESSION MADE But while the manifestation of God in the works of his hands has power to display the Divine excellence, and by contrast, human corruption, the manifestation of God in the flesh, the incai'nation of the Deity, has a far greater power. Many a man has had fleeting emotions called up by the former that have produced no abiding effect.' ' Many a man, amidst the glorious or terrible scenes of the material world, has had transient feelings of awe, and per- haps an evanescent sense of ill-desert. But these influ- ences from nature, though when made effective by higher ones they may form a part of the current which bears the spirit back to God, are not the primary and most effica- cious influences. It is the view of God manifest in the flesh, alone, which produces a salutary sense of sinfulness. Christ assures his disciples in his farewell discourse to them, that he will send them the Holy Ghost who will glorify Him ; for he should receive of His, and should show Him unto them. (John xvi. 14.) The Divine Spirit, in this promise, is represented as tributary to Jesus Christ. Through this heavenly teaching, they should obtain a view of the Son of God and the Son of man that would be as palpable for the mind and heart, as his bodily form had been for their senses. This knowledge of Christ's person and work is impossible to the natural man. " The world," that is, the worldly mind, says Christ, " cannot see me, nor know me ; but ye see me, for I am in you, and will be ' Whether nature teaches any religious truth, depends altogether upon the moral condition of the pupil. Justus Moser, in his "Letter to the Savoyard Vicar," in which he refutes Rousseau's theory that nat- ural religion, or the religious sentiment, is sufficient for mankind, and that there is no need of doctrines and creeds, remarks that "the preaching of the works of God which we have daily before our eyes is like the chattering song of a canary bird, which the owner at length ceases entirely to hear or notice, while every one who comes into the room is deafened by it." — Hagenbach : Vorlesuugen, I. 217. BY Christ's holiness. 245 with yoTi." (John xiv. 17-19.) Let us, then, turn onr re- flections to some features in this portraiture of the Re- deemer bj the Holy Ghost, which are fitted to cause the imperfectly sanctified Christian to cry out with the apos- tle Peter : " Depart from me, for I am a sinful man, O Lord." I. In the first place, a view of the character of Jesus Christ awakens the feeling of sinfulness. It is absolutely perfect. Sanctity both in mind and heart is found at its height in it. Even he who has contemplated it long, and carefully, feels that but little of its fulness and richness has been seen. For Christ is the brightness of the Father's glory, and the exact image of his person ; and therefore cannot be found out to perfection. The character of Jesus is fathomless ; and what has been remarked of Christianity by one of the early Roman bishops, may with equal truth be said of the character of its Author : " It is like the firmament; the more diligently you search it, the more stars will you discover. It is like the ocean ; the longer you regard it, the more immeasurable will it appear to you." When the characteristic qualities of Christ are distinctly beheld in their holy and spotless beauty by a sinful man, the contrast is felt immediately. The instant that his eye rests upon the sinlessness of Jesus, it turns involuntarily to the sinfulness of himself. He realizes that he is a different man from " the man Christ Jesus ; " and that except so far as he is changed by Divine grace, there can be no sympathy and union with him. In this clear light, he is conscious that his is a defiled and polluted na- ture, and that it is not fit to come in contact with the purity of the Son of God. His own forebodings and fears of judg- ment have nothing in common with the innocence and serenity of Jesus. He feels that he is not worthy of com- panionship with so spotless a Being, or to enter that pure 246 THE IMPRESSION MADE world where Christ sitteth at the right hand of the Hoi j Father, and where all the spirits that surround him are immaculate. Though he knows that unless he is ulti- mately a constant companion of the Redeemer, he must be shut out from him, and be " filthy still," yet the sense of unworthiness thus awakened by contrasting himself with the Saviour prompts him instinctively to say : " De- part from me, O Lord, for I am a sinful man." Seeing no spot or wrinkle upon the soul of Christ, and comparing his own spotted and wrinkled soul with it, a sense of amazement rises within him that he should become the temple of the Holy Ghost, and that his unclean spirit should be selected by the Eternal Father and the Eternal Son to make their abode in. This is a proper and blessed mood for an imperfectly sanctified Christian. It corresponds with the facts of the case. When he obtains this clear view of Christ's per- fections, he becomes truly meek — the most difficult of the graces — and is filled with that penitential lowliness of heart which keeps him at the foot of the cross. How can pride, the essence of sin, dwell in such a spirit ? It is ex- cluded. For the believer is absorbed in this view of his immaculate Redeemer, which shames him, yet rouses him to action and imitation. He has "the ornament of a meek and quiet spirit," because the holy eye of the Master is upon him, and he knows himself to be an unworthy dis- ciple — yet a disciple, and not an enemy of the Lord. II. Intimately connected, in the second place, with a view of Christ's character, is that of Christ's daily life. When this with its train of holy actions passes before the mind of the believer, it produces a deep sense of indwell- ing sin. For the every-day life is the unfolding and accent of the character ; and the same elements of power that are found in the one appear yet more clearly in the other. BY Christ's holiness. 247 That celestial spotlessness in the inmost nature and dis- position of Christ, which awakens the consciousness of sin, when reappearing in the daily conduct of Christ produces the same effect. Or rather its effective power is enhanced, inasmuch as it comes into our notice active and working amidst the ordinary relations and circumstances of human life. It was only an internal principle before ; it is now an external product, bright and beaming with energy, and displaying itself in the very midst of men and things. The dark root has become a brilliant flower. Every ob- server knows the additional force which a moral principle, or attribute, acquires as soon as it takes up its residence in a man, and is shown out in a man's conduct. What wonderful energy, for example, did the abstract doctrine of justification by faith gain to itself, when it became in- carnate in Martin Luther ; incorporated into the substan- tial mass of his feelings and moral wants. The moment that it ceased to be a mere letter upon the page of Scrip- ture, where it had been through all the papal centuries, and became a vivid principle of belief and action in the heart of the reformer, that moment it acquired a power under God to make the falling Church stand up in the pristine vigor of its youth. It became a possessing spirit, as it were, dwelling in Luther's mighty and passionate nature, and sending though his instrumentality a reforming influence through the Church, and through the world. Or, to take another instance, let the principle of avarice, the abstract vice, twine itself into the moral nature of a man, and become a concrete working force within him, and how it turns all that he touches into gold ; how it transforms the very man himself, so that it issues from him like black rays, and throws an air of miserliness and hard-hearted- ness over him in all the relations of life. Kow, the attribute of Divine holiness appears in this 248 THE IMPEESSION MADE vivid biographical way, in the daily conduct of Christ. Our Saviour was God with all his attributes manifested in the flesh — a perfect and blameless man, therefore, in all the varied relations of human life ; knowing both the weakness and the strength of humanity, yet in all cases without sin. And what a holy phenomenon is his life in the flesh ! The human nature Avhich he assumed is trans- figured and glorified by this indwelling of Divinity, and becomes its white and glistening raiment. If, now, we obtain a clear view of Christ's daily life, and let our own worthless life be seen in its light, we shall feel deeply that we are fallen creatures. When we witness his constant holiness and love, appearing wherever he appears, be it before a friend or an enemy ; * when we never for an instant see the placid surface of his soul ruffled by passion, but always find spiritual objects mirrored in quiet beauty there ; when we notice the absolute control which he pos- sessed over all the energies and impulses of his spirit ; how even his most fleeting thoughts were all pure, and even his most evanescent feelings were suffused with the righteous and holy love which was his nature — when we behold all this exhibited in a life among wicked men, and virulent enemies, and amidst strong temptations, are we not painfully reminded of our passionate, impetuous, un- govemed, and sinful life ? If we would but study with humble earnestness the biography of Christ, as detailed in the Gospels, we could not fail of becoming convinced of sin ; and as in this way we carried ourselves back to the time when he was upon earth, and placed ourselves within the circle of his influence along with his first disciples, we should, through grace helping us, acquire that constant ' It is a tradition of the Church, that "Peter wept whenever he re- membered the sweet mildness of Christ which he showed in his daily conyersation." — Luther on Galatians v. 21. BY cheist's holiness. 249 sense of unworthiness, in comparison with Him, which runs through their narratives. His whole pure life would disclose our corruption ; and we should receive a healthful influence from many a slight incident in the Gospel narra- tives which now escapes oiu* careless eye, even as a healing virtue was once experienced by touching the mere hem of his garment. In what has thus far been said, it has been assumed that there is remaining sin even in the most spiritual and ex- cellent of Christ's disciples, and that if fitting objects are presented, the feeling of unworthiness will rise up as natur- ally as the power of a magnet will exhibit itself when its appropriate eliciting object is brought near it. But the consciousness of sin takes on two forms, which may be distinguished but not divided from each other. Only one form — that of a sense of corruption, and of unconformity with the law of God — has been principally in view, in what has thus far been said respecting the character and life of Christ, The other form which the consciousness of sin assumes, is that of a sense of guilt, and of merited exposure to punishment. The feeling which prompts a transgressor to say : " I have disobeyed the law of God, and deserve to suffer for it," is plainly distinct from the feeling which leads him to say : " I am carnal and corrupt in my propensities, and desire to be made pure and spirit- ual." The reference in the first instance is an external and objective one — namely, to the majesty of God, and the claims of his law. In the last instance, the reference is an internal and subjective one — namely, to the condition and wants of the human heart. The feeling of guilt goes away from self, and terminates upon another Being, even God, the Holy, and the Just. It is, therefore, less liable to be mingled with selfish elements than is the feeling of inward corruption. This latter is blended with a sense of personal 11* 250 THE IMPRESSION MADE unrest and nnhappiness, and hence needs to be watched lest it degenerate into a refined selfishness. The two feelings are clearly distinguishable, although they exist side by side in the soul ; and both are equally necessary in order to a complete evangelical experience. The conscious- ness of culpability, or of crivne, is one of the most radical and profound phases of human consciousness ; and it can be removed only by the most strange and wonderful of agencies. It is easier to provide for man's corruption, than for man's guilt. The Holy Ghost, by a sanctifying agency, can remove the soul's pollution ; but only the substituted passion and agony of incarnate Deity can remove the soul's guilt. Spiritual influences can purify, but they cannot ex- piate. Had there not been this crimson tincture of crim- inality in human depravity, the incarnation and passion of the Second Person in the Godliead would not have been necessary. Had there been no guilt to atone for, the Tri- une God could have sat in the heavens, and by an inward influence have turned the human heart to righteousness, even as the rivers of water are turned. It is this guilt-consciousness which gives itself vent in the sacrifices of Heathenism, as well as those of Judaism. It is this emotion, working, it is true, in an obscure, yet in a powerful manner, and filling him with that anxious foreboding of a coming retribution of which St. Paul speaks, that causes the pagan to yearn after a sacrifice of " richer blood " than that of bulls and goats, and makes the blood of Christ so grateful to his anguished spirit, when the missionary says : " Behold the Lamb of God — behold the real and true atonement for sin." Much as man fears punishment, his moral nature is so constituted that it demands it, in order to its own satisfaction. Man's heart hates the penalty of sin ; but man's conscience in- sists upon it. And it opens to us a very solemn view of BY cheist's holiness. 251 the final state of a lost soul, when we consider that that very judicial infliction which is the cause of its distress, is felt by itself to be just and necessary under the govern- ment of God. So deeply has the Creator implanted the judicial principle in man, that wherever he may be, it de- mands, by an instinctive action that is altogether indepen- dent of the wishes of the heart, that law and justice take their course, even if he be miserable to all eternity. And it is to provide for this dispassionate and impartial sense of ill-desert, which is so distinct from the sense of corrup- tion and misery, that Christ's atoning death on the cross is so distinct from the Holy Spirit's work within the heart. One thing is set over against another, in the plan of Re- demption. Christ's blood expiates my guilt. Christ's Spirit purifies my corruption. This sense of sin as related to justice should hold a prominent place in the Christian experience ; and in pro- portion as it is first vividly elicited by the operation of the law, and then is completely pacified by a view of Christ as suffering " the just for the unjust," will be the depth of our love towards him, and the simplicity and entireness of our trust in him. Those who, like Paul and Luther, have had the clearest perception of the iniquity of sin, and of their own criminality before God, have had the most lu- minous and constraining view of Christ as the " Lamb of God ; " while, at the same time, the life of Christ in the soul, the process of sanctification, has reached its highest degree, and matured the fruits of holiness in their richest bloom. The experience was not one-sided, and thus neither side suffered. HI. Having thus directed attention to the fact that there is such a distinct feeling as guilt, we remark, in the third place, that the contemplation of the suffe7'ings and death of Christ both elicits and pacifies it, in the believer, Christ's 252 THE IMPRESSIOTiT MADE whole life upon earth was a continuous state of humilia- tion and suffering, but his last anguish and death are rep- resented as eminently the atoning sacrifice for the sin of the world ; inasmuch as at this point the flood of his sor- rows reached its height, and gathered and settled upon Calvary, like a tarn of deep and black water in a volcanic crater. Hence a clear view of those scenes in the Garden, and on the Cross, will arrest the believer's attention, and fix his thoughts upon that particular quality in himself, that specific element in sin, which rendered the agony and death of such a Being necessary. As he becomes a wit- ness of that mysterious distress under the olive trees — that inward shrinking of One who never shrank before, and who never shrank afterwards — which wrung from him the earnest yet submissive prayer : " O my Father, if it be possible let this cup pass from me ; " as he follows him through his trial of mockings and scourgings, and sees the consummation of his Passion upon the cross, and hears the words : " My God, why hast thou forsaken me ? " betoken- ing greater anguish in the soul than the body was under- going — as the believer obtains a clear understanding of all these events, he is instinctively prompted by the feeling of personal ill-desert which now rises within him, to say : " The punishment which I deserve was assumed by that innocent God-man. He, then and there, was wounded for my transgression, was bruised for my iniquity." He sees in the death of Christ a manifestation of God's righteous displeasure against sin, and says to himself : " If it was not possible to let that cup pass, and if Eternal Justice could throw no lenitive into the bitter potion which the sinner's Substitute voluntarily put to his own lips, does not the real criminal himself deserve to 'drink of the wine of the wrath of God, which is poured out without mixture into the cup of his indignation?'" Absorbed in the con- BY cheist's holiness. 253 templation of this great Divine sacrifice for the sin of the world, the feeling that retribution is what a sinner deserves swallows np for the time all others ; and the believer stands before the bar of justice taking sides with the law against himself, and heartily confessing that his condem- nation is righteous. Whoever beholds human trans- gression in the light of the Cross, has no doubts as to the nature and character of the Being nailed to it ; and he has no doubts as to his own nature and character. The dis- tinct and intelligent feeling of culpability forbids that he should omit to look at sin iij its penal relations, and en- ables him to understand these relations. The vicarious atonement of Christ is well comprehended because it is pre- cisely what the guilt-smitten conscience craves, in its rest- lessness and anguish. The believer now has wants which are met in this sacrifice. His moral feelings are all awake, and the fundamental feeling of guilt pervades and tinges them all ; until, in genuine contrition, he holds up the Lamb of God in his prayer for mercy, and cries out to the Just One : " This oblation which Thou Thyself hast provided is my propitiation ; this atones for my sin." Then the expiat- ing blood is applied by the Holy Ghost, and the conscience is filled with the peace of God that passeth all understand- ing. "Then," to use the language of Leighton,' "the conscience makes answer to God : ' Lord, I have found that there is no standing in the judgment before thee, for the soul in itself is overwhelmed with a world of guilti- ness ; but I find a blood sprinkled upon it that hath, I am sure, virtue enough to purge it all away, and to present it pure unto thee. And I know that wheresoever thou find- est that blood sprinkled, thine anger is quenched and appeased immediately upon the sight of it. Thine hand cannot smite when that blood is before thine eye.' " ' Commentary on 1 Peter iii. 21. 254 THE IMPRESSION MADE We have thus considered the effect, in awakening a sense of sin, produced by a clear view of the character, life, and death of Christ, But how dim and indistinct is our vision of all this ! It should be one of our most dis- tinct and earnest aims, to set a crucified Redeemer visibly before our eyes. " I determined," said St. Paul, " to know nothing among you, save Jesus Christ, and him cruci- fied." There are other aspects of the God-man which we may contemplate in their own time and place ; but he is not upon a high and firm evangelic position, who finds it difiicult to account for the deaiA of the God-man ; who detects in himself the secret query whether there really is anything in the nature of sin, and the character of God, that renders it rational and necessary. For, such doubt and querying originate in a defective knowledge of sin. Only bring out into vividness the consciousness of guilt ; only fill the soul with a sense of utter ill-desert, and there will be the uplifting of the despairing eye to that central Cross, and the simple looking will be the explanation of the mystery, as it stills the throbbing conscience. This accounts for the immediateness with which Christ on the Cross is beheld, if beheld at all ; and the reason why he cannot be seen by indirection, and roundabout. Like a flash of light ; like an explosion of sound ; the peace of God takes the place of remorse, when guilt and atonement come together in the personal experience. It is our duty, and our wisdom, to cultivate a purer and more spiritual conviction of sin, that we may feel that spiritual hunger, and that spiritual thirst, which makes Christ's atonement vital to the soul. His own words are : " Except ye eat my flesh and drink my blood, ye have no life in you." But how can the full-fed and self -satiated be famine-struck ? How can the self-indulgent and lux- urious know anything of burning thirst ? How can torpid BY Christ's holiness. 255 sin feel guilt ? We need to experience the keen incisive force of God's truth, and God's law, cutting into our proud flesh, and by its probing preparing us for the balsam and the balm. Let us, then, lift up our hearts, and seek this preparation for the sprinkling of the blood of expiation. Let us by every means in our power — by prayer, by self-examina- tion, and by absorbing meditation upon Christ's character, daily life, and last sufferings — awaken a pure and poig- nant sense of unworthiness and ill-desert, so that when we give utterance to it in the words of Peter : " Depart from me, for I am a sinful man, O Lord," the Lord him- self shall say to us : " Be of good cheer, thy sins are for- given thee." SERMON XYII. CHRISTIAN HUMILITY. 1 Peter v. 5. — " Be clothed TPith humilitj." Humility is a grace that pertains exclusively to the Christian religion. The better codes of pagan morality recommend some of the virtues of our religion — such as benevolence, justice, truthfulness, and the like — but this quality of meekness, which is so prominent in the Scrip- tures, and with which we are commanded to be " clothed " as with a garment, escaped the notice of the heathen sages. They do not appear to have distinguished be- tween a reverential and proper prostration of soul, and a cringing, cowardly meanness of temper. Hence the Greek word {Ta7r€t,vo(f)po(Tvv'r)) employed by the Kew Testament writers to denote this grace, which is one of the fairest fruits and distinctive marks of the religion of the gospel, in its original classical meaning signified a servile pusilla- nimity. The man who possessed this quality, in the opinion of the proud Greek, was a man of small soul.* So that in this instance, as in many others, a single word, by being brought into the service of Christian doctrine, and ' Trench (Synonyms of the New Testament) shows, however, that Plato, and particularly Aristotle, sometimes approached the borders of the truth in respect to this moral trait. CHEISTIAN HUMILITY. 257 employed as the vehicle of Christian truth, is thereby en- nobled, and becomes the exponent of a higher and better idea ; a specimen of what Christianity does for everything that comes to be in any way connected with it. Man, when he has become a Christian, is a higher style of man than he was before. JSTature, when viewed by a Christian eye, and mused upon with a Christian contemplation, is transfigured, and sounds forth a deeper music, and shows a richer bloom than meet the ear and eye of the world- ling. So true is it, that "godliness is profitable for all things." In looking for a moment into the nature of humility, we discover, as has been remarked, that it does not involve meanness or servility. It is not pusillanimity. It con- tains no element that degrades human nature, or exposes it to legitimate contempt. It is not the quality of a slave, but of kings and priests unto God. It is a necessary trait in all finite character, and therefore it is perfectly consis- tent with an inviolable dignity and self-respect. Look at it as it appears in living beauty in the pattern-man, the model of humanity — in Him who was "meek and lowly of heart." Christ was the ideal of man. Our nature reached its acme of perfection in him. But throughout his entire human life upon earth, he was a lowly and con- descending being. Not a scintilla of pride or arrogance ever flashed in his actions. The sweetest and most gentle meekness pervades the whole appearance which he presents in the Gospels. It casts its silver, softening light over all his life ; it is the serene element in which he lived, moved, and had his being. And yet, how dignified was the Son of man. The potentates of the world are fond of arrogat- ing to themselves the title of " serene highness." By it, they would indicate that their exaltation is so lofty, that it is unaffected by the contests and turmoil of the lower re- 258 CHRISTIAN HUMILITY. gion in which the common mass of men live. Their posi- tion is wholly inaccessible, and therefore their temper is perfectly calm. But what a " serene highness " envelops the character of Christ, like a halo. What greatness ac- companies the gentleness. Even Rousseau, who had no meekness, and no love for the trait, acknowledged that the character of Christ is the most lofty one in history. He thought it so sublime as to say, that if it had been the mere idealizing and invention of the unlettered evangel- ists, they would have performed a greater miracle than even the character itself was. And do we, in contemplating the character of Jesus, find that the humility which he exhibited lowers it in the least in our estimation ? Look at that scene in which this trait appears in a very striking manner — the washing of his disciples' feet. " Jesus [though] knowing that the Father had given all things into his hands, and that he was come from God, and went to God " — this Divine Being, while holding all things in his power, and issu- ing from Eternity, and returning to it when he chose — [yet] " riseth from supper and laid aside his garments, and took a towel, and girded himself. After that, he poureth water into a bason, and began to wash the disci- ples' feet, and to wipe them with the towel wherewith he was girded." Connected with this in itself menial act, is there even the slightest thought of self-degradation ? We may be astonished at the condescension, as Peter was when he cried : " Lord, dost thou wash my feet ? " But the idea that Christ forfeited his personal dignity ; that he forgot his human position, and did an improper act, out of keeping with it; never for an instant enters our minds, as we read this narrative and ponder upon it. Does not this menial office, which would excite pity if performed by a slave from fear or compulsion, cause us involuntarily CHRISTIAN HUMILITY. 259 to bow in reverence? When the Roman pontiff, sur- rounded by his cardinals and announced by a salvo of artillery, with great pomp and external show apes this beautiful and dignified condescension of the Son of man, and washes the feet of a Roman beggar, the spectator looks on with scorn, or turns away in pity. But not so with the original, of which this is the poor and blasphemous mim- icry. The blending, in the God-man, of a divine dignity and majesty, with a human and affectionate condescension towards his disciples and his brethren, will ever waken ad- miration in him who is possessed merely of a cultivated taste, like Rousseau ; much more must it waken revering love, and a desire really to imitate it, in the believer who feels his own unworthiness, and beholds in Christ the " brightness of the Father's glory, and the express image of his person." These considerations are sufficient to indicate the true nature of humility, in contradiction to the pagan concep- tion of it. We are certain that there is nothing in it kindred to servility, or pusillanimity, when we see it lend- ing a charm to the most perfect and symmetrical life that was ever lived upon earth. We can form a very safe esti- mate of any quality or trait, by looking at it in actual daily life ; by seeing it as it weaves itself into the web of human actions and relations. If it look lovely and admir- able there ; if we find it, in Wordsworth's phrase, " not too good For human nature's daily food, And yet a spirit still and bright, With something of an angel light," then it must be so in its abstract, intrinsic nature. Hu- mility, therefore, must be a worthy and noble trait ; for it was an attribute of the noblest of beings; it nms like a 260 CHRISTIAN HUMILITY. bright silken thread through the holiest and most beauti- ful life. "We are commanded, in the text, to be " clothed " with this grace ; to wear it as a garment that wraps the wearer all over like a cloak ; to appear in it as a habit or dress wherever we go. Let us notice some of the reasons for this command. And inasmuch as the light of the gospel first disclosed this grace, which had escaped the notice of the wisdom of this world, let us view it in this light. Let us take our stand upon Christianity, and from what it teaches concerning the nature of God and the nature of man, and their mutual relations, let us see that there are conclusive reasons why every man, without exception, should be humble. I. In the first place, humility is becoming to man, be- cause he is a creature. There is no difference so great as that between the Creator and the creature. The distance between man and the house which he builds, or the cloth which he manufactures, is very great, but it is not equal to that between God and man. The house and the cloth are made out of existing materials ; but God made man out of the dust of the earth, and the dust of the earth he made out of nothing. In this creaturely relation, therefore, there is not the slightest opportunity or ground for pride. Shall a being who was originated from nonentity by almighty power, and who can be reduced again to non- entity by that same power — shall a being who a little while ago had no existence, and in an instant might vanish into non-existence, swell with haughtiness ? Surely, humility is the fitting emotion for a created being. " Talk no more so exceeding proudly : let not arrogancy come out of your mouth ; for the Lord is a God of knowledge, and by him actions are weighed " (1 Sam. ii. 3). The distance between man and his Maker is so great, CHRISTIAN HUMILITY. 261 that the instinctive feeling which is elicited is that of dread. If we examine the pagan religions, we discover that a vague and oppressing terror before the Deity is the predominating emotion in them all. Thej denominate him the " Unknown God," and Panl found even the cul- tivated Greek bowing down in abject fear. But such an emotion as this is destructive of true humility. It is too tumultuous and terrifying, to allow of such a gentle, such a quiet, and such an affectionate feeling as the gospel low- liness and meekness. If the human soul be filled with a shadowy and anxious dread before an agnostic God, and it ignorantly worships him under the suffocating influence of this feeling, there can be none of that intelligent and calm self -prostration which the text enjoins. We must have some truthful and definite apprehension of God ; he must be something more for us than a dark abyss of being into whose vortex the little atom is swallowed up and lost ; in order to bow down before him with filial reverence, and entire submission. Revelation gives man this clear and intelligent view. It darts a bright beam of light through the infinite distance which separates the creature from the Creator. It reveals him as " the high and lofty One that inhabits eternity ; " and also as " dwelling with him that is of an humble and contrite heart, to revive and to bless." It describes him as the august Being whose name is " I am," the " Holy Lord God Almighty which was, and is, and is to come ; " and also as " the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ," through whom we have the forgiveness of sins, and the hope of everlasting life. In combining the infinite majesty with the infinite condescension, the Bible lays the foundation for a genuine humility that is heaven- wide from the servile terror of the pagan devotee. It is a tender and gentle emotion. Well does our Lord say, that he who carries it as a yoke, finds it an " easy " one ; that 262 CHRISTIAN HUMILITY. he who bears it as a burden, feels that it is a "light" one. Well does he say, that that soul which learns of him, and becomes meek and lowly of heart, "finds rest." Humility, again, is an ennobling emotion, because it brings man into his right position before God. That be- ing belittles himself who gets out of his place, and occupies one that does not belong to him. In our Lord's parable, the man who took the highest seat in the synagogue dis- graced himself in the very act. He went where he was not entitled to go, and he was put back where he properly belonged. But he who took the lowest room, he who did not claim the highest place as his proper position, was re- warded for his humble and just estimate of himself by the invitation to "go up higher." Precisely so is it with the creature's relations to God. He who is conscious of his in- significance before his Maker, and in comparison with his Maker, is thereby exalted to a height that can be reached ill no other way. We see this in the act of worship. When we adore the Infinite Jehovah, and give him the glory that is due unto his name, our whole mood and temper is lowly. And we are in our right place. We ought to lie low at the footstool of the Eternal. And having done this ; hav- ing worshipped the King eternal, immortal, and invisible ; we are exalted in the very act. Our feeble, finite, created nature is never clothed with such dignity, as when we are showing reverence to our Sovereign. Why is it that the very posture of worship, the posture of humility, elicits respect from all beholders ? JSTo one can look upon the devotions of even an ignorant papist before a crucifix at the corner of the street, or of an ignorant Mohammedan with his face towards Mecca, without a degree of consider- ation. There is a fellow-creature who, in attitude at least, is bending before the infinite majesty of. heaven ; and though we know that his worship is blind and super- CHRISTIAN HUMILITY. 263 stitious, it would shock our sensibilities should he be in- sulted, or interrupted in his prayer. There is dignity in worship. " Those thoughts," says Lichtenberg, " elevate the soul which throw the body upon the knee." The act of adoration, in which the spirit of humility reaches its height, is the sublimest one of which the creature is capa- ble. And this, because it is that act in which he confesses and feels himself to be a creature — a being who was origi- nated from nothing by the fiat of the Creator, and who possesses nothing that he has not received. II. In the second place, humility is becoming to man because he is a dependent being. He who is independent, and does not owe his existence, or the continuance of it, to any other than himself, is not called upon to be humble. Humility would be unbefitting in the Great God. He must of necessity possess the calm consciousness of independence, and self -subsistence. And yet this is not pride. God can- not be proud, any more than he can be humble. For pride supposes a comparison with another being of the same species, and a degree of rivalry with him. But with whom can God compare himself ; and towards what other being can he feel the least emotion of emulation ? He dwells in the solitude of his own unapproachable excellence, and therefore he can neither be lifted up with haughtiness, nor bowed down in lowliness. But man is not such a being. All his springs are in God. He is dependent for life, health, and all temporal things. He is dependent, above all, for spiritual life and health, and all the blessed things of eternity. In the strong Scripture phraseology, he " lives, moves, and has his being " in God. He is kept in existence, and watched over by the minute, the microscopic providence of God, with more kindness than the mother guards her infant, and therefore the least that he can do, is to look up .with an adoring eye and meekly acknowledge 264 CHRISTIAN HUMILITY. his dependence. Certainly, that creature ought to be very lowly who is finite and helpless, and yet has an eternity depending upon the life he leads here. Standing as man does on the shore of an illimitable sea, upon which he is to embark, with no power in himself to support and guide over its dark expanse, he should be very humble and very trusting. The sound of those " waters rolling evermore " should send far into his heart a feeling of weakness, and dependency. His whole life upon the raging billows of time ought to be one continued act of lowly trust, one con- tinued state of meek reliance. But this does not exhaust the subject under this head. Man is dependent not only upon his Creator, but also upon his fellow-creature. He is part of a great whole, and is therefore in a state of connection and interdependency. No man can stand up alone, and sustain himself without any assistance from his fellow-men. Even he who practically denies his depen- dence upon God, acknowledges either directly or indirectly his dependence upon man. How many men are humble, nay, are abject, before a fellow-worm, because they are in some way dependent upon him, but are proud in the sight of God, by whom both they and their fellow-creatures are sustained. Thus does man, even in his sin, confess his own weakness. In a life and world of sin, he clings to his frail fellow-sinner for support. The thought of being cut off from all connection with others alarms him. Were the whole human family to be removed from the planet by death, with the exception of a single individual, and this single person were to be reprobated by God, and thus cut off from all connection and intercourse with any being human or divine, he would be a terror to himself. What fear would settle like a cloud upon him, if having no trust in the Almighty he found no fellow-creature to run to, CHRISTIAN HUMILITY. 265 though only for a temporary solace and stay. Standing in sucli absolute loneliness in the middle of the universe, with neither God nor man to lean upon, methinks he would desire annihilation. So firmly and profoundly implanted in human nature is the instinctive longing for social inter- course with a fellow-being, and the desire to rest upon some other than self. And ought not this species of de- pendence, also, though it be a minor one when compared with the creature's dependence upon God, to minister to a lowly heart ? Should not every man esteem others better than himself, be thankful for the benefits which he is con- stantly receiving either directly or indirectly from others, and, in the end, looking up to the great First Cause, humbly adore him as the Being who sits above all these minor agencies, upholding and controlling as they work and inter- weave among themselves far beneath him? Since men are all walking together in this state of existence as it were in a starless night, and their feet stumble among the dark mountains, they should mutually recognize their obliga- tions to each other, and there should be no boasting. The sense of their dependence would render them meek and lowly ; and this meekness and gentleness would naturally beget that hve of their neighbor as themselves, which is the sum of the second table of the law. in. In the third place, man should be humble because he is a sinful being. What has been remarked of man as created and dependent will apply to all beings but God. The first two reasons which we have assigned for humility are valid for the angels and the archangels. They are creatures, and they are dependent. And if we would find the deepest humility in the universe, the most profound lowliness of heart, we must seek it in the shining ranks of heaven ; in the wing-veiled faces of the seraphim. But there \^ another special reason why man should be humble 12 266 CHRiSTiAisr humility. which has no application to the holy angel. Man is a sinner. When Jehovah appeared " sitting upon a throne high and lifted np," the seraph cried and said, " Holy, holy, holy is the Lord of hosts ; the whole earth is full of his glory." But the prophet Isaiah upon seeing the very same vision said, " Woe is me ! for I am undone ; because I am a man of unclean lips, and I dwell in the midst of a people of unclean lips ; for mine eyes have seen the King, tlie Lord of hosts." The seraph was humble as a creature merely. The man was humble as a sinner as well as a creature. The fact that we are transgressors before God should abase us in the dust before him. The heart of a criminal is no place for pride, and he ought to stand afar off, and cry, " God be merciful." Considering the peculiar atti- tude in which guilty man stands before God, self-abase- ment ought to be the main feeling in his heart. For in addition to the infinite difference there is originally be- tween himself and his Maker, he has rendered himself yet more different by apostasy.- The first was only a difference in respect to essence ; but the last is a difference in respect to character. How strange it is that he should forget this difference, and entering into a comparison of himself with his fellow-men should plume himself upon a supposed superiority. The culprits are disputing which shall be the greatest, at the very instant when their sentence of condemnation is issuing from the lips of their Judge ! How poor a thing it is, to see a little creature over- estimating himself for qualities, the possession of which he owes to the very Being against whom he is in rebellion. How vain and futile a thing it is, for a little atom to at- tempt to isolate itself from everything else and float alone ill immensity, endeavoring, contrary to great laws, to lead a separate existence by itself and for itself, and, in this CHRISTIAN HUMILITY.. 267 attitude of rebellion against the Creator and Kuler of all, boasting with exultation and self-complacency. It is ab- surd, on the very face of it. "Proud man, Drest in a little brief authoritj, Plays such fantastic tricks before Mgh. heaven As make angels weep." There is still another consideration under this head which strengthens the motive for humility. "We have seen that the fact of sin furnishes an additional reason for self- abasement, because it increases the distance between man and God ; it has also made him still more dependent upon God. There is no helplessness like that of a convicted and imprisoned criminal. He cannot stir hand or foot. He cannot say a word in his own defence, for he has been tried, and proved guilty. He cannot employ force to de- liver himself, for he is shut up behind solid walls and iron grates. He is utterly dependent upon the sovereign power which has sentenced and imprisoned him. Such is sinful man in relation to the Divine government. He is the most helpless of the helpless. Nothing but pure and mere mercy can deliver him. But nothing interferes with the exercise of mercy like pride in the criminal. A proud man cannot be forgiven. It involves a self-contradiction. If there be self-asserting haughtiness in the heart, God can neither bestow grace nor man receive it. There can be no forgiveness, unless there be confession of sin, and godly sorrow. Mere remorse furnishes no opportunity for the exercise of clemency. The devils are full of this feeling, and yet are as antagonistic to the Divine mercy as fire is to water. It is not the " sorrow of the world," the sorrow of hell, but the " godly sorrow," which prepares the soul to receive the sweet and blessed absolution of heavenly 268 CHEISTIAN HUMILITY. pity. But this feeling is a humble one. Penitence is very lowly. In fact, the difference between the two sorrows — the sorrow of the world, and the godly sorrow — is due to the presence or the absence of humility. The sense of sin takes its character from the temper of the soul. When it wakes up in a proud and hard heart, it wears and tears it. It becomes remorse — that " sorrow of the world which worketh death," the main element in eternal death, the " worm " and the " fire." But when the sense of sin is wakened in a humble and broken heart, there is no lacera- tion. It becomes that " godly sorrow which worketh re- pentance unto life." It produces that subdued, tender, chastened tone of feeling which leads man in lowly faith to the foot of the Cross. *' Kemorse is as the heart in which, it grows : If that be humble, it drops balmy dews Of true repentance ; but if proud and gloomy, It is a poison-tree that, pierced to the inmost, Weeps only tears of poison." ' If, therefore, we would have the sense of sin produce any salutary and blessed -results within us, we must obtain a meek and lowly spirit — one that does not proudly fight against the convictions of conscience, and thus rouse that faculty to vengeance and despair, but which acknowledges and confesses the justice of its charges, and humbly waits for the mercy of God, who pours the oil of joy into such a heart. If, then, you ever have your attention directed to your transgressions, and the conviction of sin and the feel- ing of ill-desert is roused, do not proudly try to smother and quench it, for it will prove to be a fire shut up in your bones that will ultimately burn to the lowest hell. On the 'Coleridge: Eemorse, Act I., Scene i. CHEISTIAN HUMILITY. 269 contrary, be humble ; confess the sin with meekness, and look to the blood of Christ for its pardon. Then you will understand how it is that when you are humble then you are exalted, and when you are weak then you are strong. "When the sinner's stout and self-righteous heart yields, and he meekly acknowledges his sin, by this very act he takes hold of the justifying righteousness of the Redeemer, and then he is exalted, and then he is safe. rV. A fourth, and most powerful reason, why man should be clothed with humility, is found in the vicarious suffer- ing and atonement of Christ in his behalf. The apostle Paul, directing Titus to enjoin upon his hearers " to speak evil of no man, to be no brawlers, but gentle, showing all meekness unto all men," assigns as a special reason the fact, that the " kindness and love of God our Saviour has appeared toward man, in the washing of regeneration and renewing of the Holy Ghost through Jesus Christ our Saviour." The Cross of Christ is the great motive to a meek and lowly temper. He who has a vivid view of those dark scenes in the innocent life of the Blessed Re- deemer, and considers the purpose for which he was in an agony and sweat great drops of blood, cannot cherish pride in his heart, unless his heart is the heart of Judas. Feel- ing himself to be a condemned sinner, and beholding the Lamb of God " made a curse for him," and bearing his sins in His owti body on the tree, all self-confidence and self-righteousness will die out of his soul. Coming down from Calvary, he cannot straightway forget what he has seen, and return as did the malignant Jews to the pomp and vanity of the earthly Jerusalem, and live a proud and sensual life. On the contrary, he finds in the sufferings and death of Christ a motive both for self-abasement, and for hope — a motive for self-abasement, because in the bright light around the Cross he sees his sins to be scarlet 270 CHRISTIAN HUMILITY. and crimson ; a motive for hope, beeanse of the free and full forgiveness that is offered. Nothing subdues a haughty spirit like the passion and agony of the Saviour for the sin of the world. There is a strangely softening power in the blood of Christ. The fabled Medusa's head was said to turn every one who looked upon it into stone ; but the Cross and the Holy Sufferer upon it is a sight that converts the beholder from stone into flesh. Such, then, are the conclusive reasons and motives for Christian humility. We are creatures ; we are dependent creatures ; we are guilty creatures ; and we are creatures for whom the Son of God has suffered and died. It is a grace much insisted upon by our Lord, and very difficult for our proud natures to acquire and cultivate. But it must be acquired. Pride is the inmost substance of sin. Adam desired to be " as gods, knowing good and evil." Lucifer, the Son of the Morning, aspired to the throne of the Eternal. Both the angel and the man fell by pride. Humility is the opposite grace and virtue. It is the slow- est and latest of any to take root again in our apostate nature. Even when we have bowed down in true low- liness of heart, the very first emotion, oftentimes, that springs up after the act, is the emotion of pride. We are proud because we have been humble! So subtle and inveterate in our souls is that " old serpent," that prim- itive sin whereby the angels fell, and whereby man trans- gressed. We must, therefore, cultivate this particular grace as we would cultivate a choice exotic flower in an unkindly soil and clime. We must toil to " be clothed with humility." We must habitually feel our entire dependence upon God, and also our secondary dependence upon man. We must cherish a deeper sense of personal unworthiness. And above all, we must behold the suffering Lamb of God, and CHEISTIAlSr HUMILITY. 271 remember the deserved damnation from wliicli he has saved us. " Put on, therefore, as the elect of God, holy and beloved, bowels of mercies, kindness, humbleness of mind, meekness, long-suffering, forbearing one an- other, and forgiving one another, if any man have a quarrel against any ; even as Christ forgave you, so also do ye." SEEMON XYm. PRIDE VITIATES RELIGIOUS KNOWLEDGE. 1 Corinthians viii. 2. — "If any man think that he knoweth any- thing, he knoweth nothing yet as he ought to know. " In reading this text, we must lay a strong emphasis upon the word " think," if we would feel the force of it. St. Paul would teach certain members of the Corinthian Church, who were inclined to place a high estimate upon a philosophical comprehension of religious truth, and who therefore were liable to a spurious kind of knowledge, that if any one of them conceitedly supposed or imagined liimself to comprehend the gospel mysteries, he was in re- ality utterly ignorant concerning them. This party in the Church claimed to possess a more profound apprehension of Christian truth than the rest of the brotherhood. They were filled with an intellectual pride and ambition that blinded them to the real and sanctifying meaning of the Gospel. They thought they knew. The apostle tells them that such knowledge as this puffs up, but that real Chris- tian love builds up; and adds, that "if any man ihinh that he knoweth anything, he knoweth nothing yet as he ought to know." The doctrine of the text, therefore, is, that pride vitiates religious knowledge. We proceed to mention some particulars in respect to which this appears. PRIDE VITIATES RELIGIOUS KNOWLEDGE. 273 I. In the first place, pride injures our religious knowl- edge in respect to its quantity or extent. If this feeling be in the heart, we shall not see so much, nor so far. The apostle refers to that disposition which leads a man, when he has made some addition to his stock of knowledge, to stop and review it, and boast of it. He has in mind that self-complacent spirit which is not content with the appre- hension of truth, but which must sally forth and tell the world how much it knows. These Corinthian disciples were anxious to make an impression by their supposed su- perior insight into Christian doctrine. They gloried in their attainments, real or reputed ; and hence St. Paul says to them : " If any man among you seemetli to be wise in this world, let him become a fool, that he may be wise. For the wisdom of this world is foolishness with God. Therefore let no man glory in men." Let no man plume himself upon his own personal acquisitions, or upon the knowledge of that particular human teacher — that Paul, or Apollos, or Cephas — whom he calls his master. Such a self-complacent spirit as this tends to diminish the quantity or extent of a man's knowledge, because it prevents him from surveying and travelling over the whole field. Having obtained a partial view, he stops to con- gratulate himself upon his discovery, and to inform others how much he has seen. His self-gratulation blinds his eye to the vast spaces that still stretch away in every direc- tion, and that still remain to be explored. He is like a traveller among the Alps, who, having ascended the first range of hills, and seeing the lower valleys, should imagine, or " think," that he had exhausted Switzerland — had taken up into his senses and soul that whole vast expanse of mountains, valleys, lakes, streams, chasms, verdure, and eternal snow, Mdiich constitutes the physical heart of Eu- rope. That tarrying upon the heights already reached, 12* 274 PRIDE VITIATES RELIGIOUS KNOWLEDGE. and that self -congratulation upon the scanty view that first broke upon the eje, was fatal to a comprehensive vision. This man who " thinks " that he knows Switzerland, knows nothing yet as he ought to know. This is especially true of the apprehension of divine things. The instant a Christian begins to dwell upon his knowledge of God, or of himself, with any degree of self- complacency, he begins to stop his growth in knowledge. Take, for illustration, the knowledge of his own heart — of its corruption and its plague. So long as the Christian perceives indwelling sin with a simple and enlightened perception of its turpitude, and humbly mourns over it and confesses it, so long he makes advance in this species of knowledge. One shade or aspect of sin conducts him to the next, and so on in indefinite progression, until he becomes widely learned in the human heart, and pro- foundly abased before God. But the instant he begins to think of the extent to which he has gone in self-inspec- tion, and to glory in his self-knowledge, that instant he brings the whole process to a stand-still. He creates an eddy in the flowing stream of his self- reflection, and wliirls round and round, instead of moving onward and onward. And unless the volume of water starts once more, and gets out of this whirlpool ; unless the Christian ceases to think of how much he knows, and to boast of it ; unless he re- turns to that simple perception that is accompanied with humility and sorrow; he will never know any more of his own heart than he now knows. And even this degree of knowledge will not stay by him. " To him that hath shall be given, and he shall have more abundance ; but from him that hath not, shall be taken even that he hath." These slight measures of self-knowledge, over which he has boasted, will themselves be absorbed in the pride of the heart, and disappear entirely from the experience. PEIDE VITIATES RELIGIOUS KNOWLEDGE. 275 "We might select other features in the Christian experi- ence, and apply the same reasoning to them, with the same result. He who contemplates the character of God, with no side glances at himself in the way of pride at his fancied wisdom ; he who simply beholds the glory of the Holy One, and bows down before it in reverence and awe ; is carried forward from one vision to another. But the instant he begins to admire the results of his contempla- tion and study in this direction, the charm is dissolved. The face of God is veiled, and he sees it no longer. He, again, who, having perceived the adaptation of the atone- ment of the Lord Jesus Christ to the guilty conscience, begins to be proud of his perception, destroys the per- ception. If having seen the Lamb of God, he begins to feel meretorious because he has seen Him, and to glory in his spiritual discernment, his soul fills up with darkness, instead of a clearer and purer light. The knowledge of these divine things cannot be chased after, and boasted over in this style. If you would see your shadow dis- tinctly, stand still and look at it. The instant you begin to run after it, or grasp at it, you set it to wavering ; you destroy its sharp outlines, and its exact parts and propor- tions. So, too, the instant you snatch at, and try to seize hold of your religious experiences and perceptions, that you may hold them up triumphantly before the eyes of men, and flaunt them before the world to your own praise — the instant you begin to review your knowledge for self- gratulation, you damage and vitiate it. You injure it in its quantity. You do not see so far, or so comprehen- sively, as you would had you the meekness of wisdom. II. In the second place, pride vitiates our religious knowledge in respect to its quality, or depth. Knowledge seems to have two properties that correspond with two of the geometrical dimensions. It extends out in every di- 276 PEIDE VITIATES RELIGIOUS KNOWLEDGE. rection like a plane surface ; and it runs downward, and reaches upward, like a right line. How natural it is to speak of a superficial knowledge — a knowledge that runs to the superficies or surface of things. And it is equally natural to speak of high thinking, and deep thinking — of a species of reflection that penetrates above and below the surface. In the first head of the discourse, we w^ere en- gaged with knowledge as spreading out sidewise in all di- rections, and we saw that it was circumscribed and limited by the disposition to be conceited and boastful. Pride vitiated it, by reducing its compass and extent. "We have now to notice how the same sin renders it less profound ; preventing it from reaching up into the heights, and sink- ing down into the depths of divine truth. The moment the mind begins to compute the distance it has gone, it stops going. It cannot do two things together at the same instant. If, therefore, under the in- fluence of pride, it pauses to see how profound it has become, to congratulate itself upon its profundity, and to tell the world its success, it adopts a suicidal course. It damages its knowledge in respect to quality. It ceases to be as pure and deep as it was while the mind was wholly absorbed in the contemplation of truth. Take an example, for illustration. Suppose that a sinful man directs his thoughts to liis own sinfulness. Suppose that he flxes his attention upon some one sinful habit, say covetousness, to which he is inclined, and begins to see plainly its odious- ness in its own nature, and in the eye of God. The longer this process continues, the more intent and absorb- ing the application of his mind to this one subject, the deeper is his view. He goes down lower and lower into his own heart, and his knowledge becomes purer and more profound in its quality. Now suppose that his attention is diverted from his sin itself, to the consideration of the PEIDE VITIATES EELIGIOUS KNOWLEDGE. 277 fact that he has been exploring and probing his sin ; sup- pose that he begins, as it were, to look over his own shoulder, and see what he has been doing ; is it not evi- dent that his sense of the iniquity of his sin will begin to grow more shallow, and that he will come up to the sur- face of his heart again, instead of penetrating its recesses ? The sin of covetousness will not appear so odious to hiin, because he begins to " think " that he understands all about it ; and in the end the assertion of the apostle is verified in his case : " If any man think that he knoweth anything, he knoweth nothing yet as he ought to know." III. In the third place, pride vitiates our religious knowledge, in respect to its practicality. This is perhaps the greatest injury that is done to our apprehension of divine things, by our self-conceit and egotism. It is a great evil to have our knowledge diminished in its quan- tity and quality, in its extent and depth, but it is an even greater evil, to have its practical character and influence injured. The only purpose for which we ought to wish to un- derstand religious truth is, that we may be made better by it. We ought not to desire to know God, except that we may become like him. We ought not to make any scrutiny into our own sin, except for the purpose of getting rid of sin. There is no species of truth or knowledge that is so purely practical, as religious truth and knowledge. The very instant, therefore, it loses this practicality, by any fault or wrong method of our own, it loses its most impor- tant element for us. It degenerates into mere speculation, and hardens the heart, instead of melting it into sorrow and love. The first duty incumbent upon a man when he has ob- tained some new view of divine truth is, to ajpjplij it. But there is nothing that so interferes with such a personal ap- plication as pride, or self-gratulation. He who seeks to 278 PRIDE VITIATES RELIGIOUS KNOWLEDGE. understand the doctrines of Scripture only that he may admire himself, or be admired by others because of his knowledge of Scripture, will never bring them home to himself ; will never employ them for purposes of self- improvement. A French rhetorician relates the following anecdote, to show how impenetrable the vainglorious mind is to the sharp arrows of truth, and how exceedingly diffi- cult it is to induce such a mind to allow any practical turn or application of a moral idea. " One day," he says, " the Ahh6 de St. Cyran happened to touch, in the presence of Balzac, upon certain religious truths which he developed with great force. Balzac, intent upon gaining from this some beautiful thought to enshrine at some future time in a page of his own, could not help exclaiming, ' That is ad- mirable ;' contenting himself with admiring, without apply- ing anything to himself. ' Balzac,' said the Abbe, ' is like a man who, standing before a superb mirror which shows him a stain on his face, should content himself with admiring the beauty of the mirror, without removing the stain.' Balzac was delighted more than ever with this, and still forgetting the practical lesson altogether, in his attention to the pertinence of the illustration, cried in a yet louder tone, ' Ah, this is more admirable than all the rest.' " ' " Seest thou a man wise in his own conceit," says Solo- mon, "there is more hope of a fool than of him." When a man is destitute of knowledge, and feels himself to be so, he can be approached by a teacher, and instruction can be imparted. But when it is the thought of his heart that he comprehends the whole subject, and that no one can teach him, the prospect of his becoming enlightened is liopeless. Precisely so is it in regard to the practical ap- ' Bungener : Preacher and King, 38, 39. PRIDE VITIATES RELIGIOUS KNOWLEDGE. 279 plication of divine truth. He who listens to the teach- ing of the sanctuary, with the notion or imagination that he has completed the work of applying it to himself^ and therefore hears merely for others, or for merely intellect- ual improvement, is in a most unfavorable position to re- ceive salutary impressions. This is the hazard that accom- panies a steady attendance upon public worship, without faith, repentance, and a Christian profession. The mind of such a person becomes filled with the doctrines of the gospel, and they command his unhesitating assent. They are so true for his intellect, that he never thinks of disput- ing them. And, at the same time, he never thinks of ap- plying them to himself practically. There is a species of mental pride, a pride of knowledge, perhaps a pride of orthodoxy, that hinders him from listening with a tender conscience, and a meek and lowly heart. Perhaps it would be better, if such a hearer might, for a time, be brought into skeptical conflict with the truth. Perhaps there might be more hope of his conversion, if, instead of this cold and un- disturbed assent to the Christian sj'stem which is accom- panied with so much self-complacency, and so little self- application, there might rush in upon him some of those obstinate questionings that would destroy his ease of mind, and bring him into serious collision with the law and truth of God. He might then, perhaps, realize that the Word of God is the most practical, because it is the most truth- ful and searching, of all books ; that there is not a teach- ing in it that does not have a bearing upon the most mo- mentous interests of the human soul ; and that the question which every man should put to himself, whenever he reads it, and whenever he listens to it, is the question : " What is it to r^ie ? What shall / do in reference to it ? " Thus have we seen, that " If any man think that he knoweth anything, he knoweth nothing yet as he ought to 280 PEIDE VITIATES RELIGIOUS KNOWLEDGE. know " — that pride vitiates our knowledge of religious truth, in respect to its quantity, its quality, and its practi- cality. That is a very instructive chapter in the Old Testament history which records the punishment that came upon David, because he numbered the people. We are not in- formed, by the sacred historian, what was the particular wickedness of which the king of Israel was guilty, in this instance. It was not the mere taking of a census. Moses had twice numbered the people, without any rebuke from God ; and upon the face of the transaction, there does not seem to lie any harm. It was well, that the ruler of a kingdom should know the number of his army ; it was well, that the shepherd of Israel should count up his flock. The most probable explanation is, that the monarch took this census of his kingdom from pride, as Ilezekiah showed the treasures of his palace to the ambassadors of the king of Babylon. Therefore God punished him. It is the same spirit that numbers up spiritual attainments, and the same disapprobation of God attends it. What is the moral difference between showing the heathen king the silver, and the gold, and the spices, and the precious ointment, in order to make an impression upon him for purposes of self-aggrandizement, and showing to one's own self, or to others, the mental treasures, for purposes of pride and vanity ? What is the difference in the motive, between David's boastful counting up of his men of war, and the Christian's boastful counting np of his knowledge, his graces, and his good deeds? 1. In deducing, therefore, the lessons which this subject suggests, we remark, in the first place, that spiritual pride is the most suhtle of sins. " Now the serpent was more subtle than any beast of the field which the Lord God had made." The species of sin which is rebuked in the text, PEIDE VITIATES RELIGIOUS KNOWLEDGE. 281 and which we have been considering, does not approacli the Christian from the outside. It does not issue from flesh and sense, but from the intellect itself. It is the sin of Lucifer, the Son of the Morning. That archangel was not tempted to revolt against the authority and govern- ment of the Most High, by the low and flesh-born solicita- tions which are continually assailing the sons of men. His substance was incorporeal, and his nature ethereal. The five senses, which are the avenues through which many enticements to sin approach the children of Adam, formed no part of his constitution. He fell from a purely intel- lectual temptation, and his wickedness was what the apos- tle denominates '■'•spiritual wickedness." The sin of pride, to which the believer is liable, is a sin of the same species whereby the angels fell. In wrestling against it, we " wrestle not against flesh and blood, but against princi- palities, £\gainst poM'ers, against the rulers of the darkness of this world, against spiritual wickedness in high places." (Eph. vi. 12.) There is every reason to believe, that when the child of God becomes sinfully self-conscious, and ego- tistic ; when he ceases to be an actor, and converts himself into a spectator ; when he reviews his conduct with self- complacency, and is puffed up with knowledge, instead of built up with charity ; when he thinks more highly of himself than he ought to think ; he is particularly the victim of the wiles of Satan, that Old Serpent, that subt- lest of the creatures of God. When other artifices fail ; when the believer proves to be on his guard against the more common and outward temptations of earth; then the Arch Deceiver plies him with one that is purely men- tal, and spiritual. He fills him with the conceit of holi- ness, and the conceit of knowledge. This puffs him up, and leads him to commit that great sin which is condemned in the declaration of God, through the prophet Isaiah : " I 282 PRIDE VITIATES RELIGIOIJS KNOWLEDGE. am Jehovah, that is mj name, and my glorj I will not give to another." Under the impulse of this temptation, the creature defrauds the Creator of the glory which is his due, and comes short of the chief end of his own crea- tion. Spiritual pride is thus the last resort of the Tempter, and whoever is enabled by divine grace to foil him at this point, will foil him at all points. " That which first over- comes man," says St. Augustine, " is the last thing man overcomes." The pride by which the angels fell, and which was the principal quality in the Adamic transgres- sion, lingers longest and latest in the experience of the Christian. "Some sins," remarks an old divine, "may die before us, but this hath life in it as long as we. It is, as it were, the heart of all other sins ; the first to live, and the last to die. And it hath this advantage, that whereas other sins are fomented by one another, this feeds even on virtues and graces, as a moth that breeds in them, and consumes them, even in the finest of them, if it be not carefully looked into. This hydra, as one head of it is cut off, another rises up ; it will secretly cleave to the best actions, and prey upon them. And therefore is there so much need that we continually watch, and fight, and pray against it ; and be restless in the pursuit of real and deep humiliation — to be nothing, and desire to be nothing ; not only to bear, but to love our own abasement, and the things that procure and help it." ' ' Leighton : On 1 Pet. v. 5. The same testimony respecting the na- ture of spiritual pride is borne by Ricliard Baxter. " For my part, when I consider the great measure of pride, self-conceitedness, self-esteem, that is in the greater part of Christians that ever I was acquainted with — we of the ministry not excepted — I wonder that God doth not afflict ns more, and bring us down by foul means, that will not be brought down by fair. For my own part, I have bad as great means to help me PKIDE VITIATES RELIGIOUS KNOWLEDGE. 283 2. And this carries us to the second lesson suggested by the subject, which is, that spiritual pride especially requires the aid and influence of the Holy Ghost to overcome it. No spirit is a match for the subtlety of Satan but the Eternal Spirit. When the mystery of iniquity worketh ; when " that Wicked is revealed whose coming is after the working of Satan, with all power, and signs, and lying wonders, and with all deceivableness of unrighteousness;" St. Paul tells us that " the Lord shall consume him with the Spirit of his mouth, and shall destroy him with the brightness of his coming," (2 Thess. ii. 7-10.) The be- liever will fall a victim to these arts of the Deceiver, un- less he is both enlightened and empowered. His very virtues and graces themselves are, oftentimes, the egg out of which spiritual pride is hatched. With Cowper he can say: " When I would speak what thou hast done To save me from my sin, I can not make thy mercies known, But self-applause creeps in." against this sin as most men living ever had ; first, in many years' trouble of mind, and then in near twenty years' languishing and bodily pains, having been almost twenty years at the grave's mouth, and living near it continually ; and lastly and above all, I have had as full a sight of it in others, even in the generality of the professors, and in the dole- ful state of the Church and State, and heinous, detestable abominations of this age, which one would think should have fully cured it. And yet, if I hear but either an applauding word from any of fame on one side, or a disparaging word on the other side, I am fain to watch my heart as narrowly as I would do the thatch of my house when fire is put to it, and presently to throw on it the water of detestation, resolution, and recourse to God. And though the acts through God's great mercy be thus restrained, yet the constancy of these inclinations assures me that there is still a strong and deep root. " Baxter : The Right Method for Spiritual Peace and Comfort. 284 PEIDE VITIATES RELIGIOITS KNOWLEDGE. The believer, therefore, needs to have that singleness of eye which is never dazzled with any of the flatteries of either his own heart, or of Satan himself. He needs to have his whole body full of that heavenly light which will chase out every lingering remnant of darkness, and of egotism. And who but the unerring Spirit of God is the author of such a spiritual illumination as this ? The dis- courses of our Lord are full of solemn injunctions to be single-eyed, single-minded, and not to let the left hand know what the right hand doeth. Simplicity and godly sincerity, he continually emphasizes ; and these are the ex- act contraries of self-deception and pride. But who can attain to this, as a steady and spontaneous habit and frame of soul, without the teaching of the Holy Ghost ? And by that teaching it can be attained. There is a power in God, the Creator of the human soul, and the Searcher of the human heart, to produce within it a guileless simplicity — that beautiful trait which Christ saw and praised in Nathanael, when he said : " Behold an Israelite indeed, in whom there is no guile." It is that holiness which is so simple, childlike, and ingenuous, that it is unconscious of itself. It is that divine knowledge which is so pure, and deep, that it never reviews itself, and never inflates in the least. It is that mental absorption in God and divine things, of which the Old Mystics say so much, whereby the will of the creature and the intellect of the creature are so completely subject to those of the Creator, that the differ- ence between them cannot be distinguished in the religious experience. It is that union with Christ which is so inti- mate and central, that the instant the believer says with St. Paul, " I live," he is obliged with him to add imme- diately, "yet not I, but Christ liveth in me." Such a union as this, resulting in the extinction of self-assertion PEIDE VITIATES EELIGIOUS KNOWLEDGE. 285 and vainglory, is the product of the Holy Spirit work- ing in us to will, to feel, to think, and to act. It results from walking in the Spirit, and praying in the Spirit 5 yea, praying that prayer of which the apostle remarks: " The Spirit helpeth our infirmities ; for we know not what to pray for as we ought ; but the Spirit itself mak- eth intercession for us, with groanings which cannot be uttered." SERMON XIX. CONNECTION BETWEEN FAITH AND WORKS. James ii. 24. — "Ye see then how that by works a man is justified, and not by faith only." This affirmation of the inspired apostle James seems to flatly contradict that famous assertion of the inspired apos- tle Paul which is so often quoted, as containing the pith and substance of the evangelical system. St. Paul, in his Epistle to the Romans, after proving that all mankind are guilty before the law, and consequently cannot be acquit- ted by it, draws the inference : " Therefore, we conclude that a man is justified by faith without the deeds of the law." (Rom. iii. 28.) This doctrine has come down from age to age, as the cardinal truth of Christianity. The Church has been pure or corrupt, according as it has adopted or rejected it. Protestant as distinguished from Papal Christianity rests upon it as its proof text. Men are evangelical or legal, according as they receive or reject it. And yet St. James, in the text, affirms distinctly and positively, that " by works a man is justified, and not by faith only." There is certainly a verbal contradiction between these two apostles. Should these two isolated passages of Script- ure be read to an inhabitant of Saturn ; should they be FAITH AND WOEKS. 287 taken out of their connections, and be made known to any- one who was utterly unacquainted with the Scriptures as a whole ; should they be found, like some old Greek or Sanskrit inscription, cut into a marble tablet, with nothing going before them to explain, or following after to illus- trate, their meaning, thej must undoubtedly be set down as conflicting with each other. The words in the one statement contradict the words in the other. But a verbal contradiction is not necessarily a real con- tradiction. Inconsistency in words is compatible with consistency in ideas. In order to charge a contradiction in the thought, or doctrine, we must evince something more than a contradiction in the language. The letter sometimes kills the sense, but the spirit makes it alive. It is the ulterior meaning, which must be gathered from the intention of the writer as seen in other parts of his dis- course, and especially from the immediate context, that must interpret the phraseology. Human language is an imperfect instrument to express so subtle a thing as thought. Hence we shall find that, oftentimes, it labors under the idea or truth which is sought to be conveyed by it, and this laboring appears in a verbal contradiction. Some of the very highest truths, owing to the poverty of human language, can be expressed only in phraseology that involves an utter inconsistency if taken according to the mere letter. Consider, for example, the schoolman's definition of the Divine omnipresence. " God," he said, " is a circle whose circumference is everywhere, and its centre nowhere." This diction is utterly self-contradictory. Read it to a mere mathematician, who should have no inkling of the great truth that was sought to be conveyed by it ; who should look at it as a purely verbal and mathe- matical statement; and he would tell you that there is and can be no circle whose centre is nowhere, and its circum- 288 CONNECTION BETWEEN ference everywhere, and that the terms of such a proposi- tion are absurd. And yet it is one of the best definitions that have been given of the omnipresence of God. It im- presses the inscrutable immensity of the Deity, the mys- terious boundlessness of his being, upon the mind, in a very vivid and striking manner. And it is the impression made, which is the truth and fact in the case. Take, again, the famous statement, that " the soul is all in every part of the body." The purpose of this verbal contradic- tion is, to show that the immaterial spirit of man cannot be localized in a section of space. The soul of a man is not seated in the hand, or in the foot ; in the heart, or in the head. It is not contained and confined in any one part of the human body, for it causes the movements of every part. It thinks through the brain ; it feels through the nerves ; and it lifts weights through the hand. It ex- ists, therefore, in one part as much as in another ; and therefore no one organ can be asserted to be its sole local- ity, and residence. And yet, on the other hand, it would not be correct to say that the soul is diffused through the whole body, and has exactly the same form and figure as the body. The soul has no extended form, or figure ; as it would have if it were spread out through the whole ma- terial structure. It is not correct to say that a part of the soul is in the head, and another part is in the foot, and another part is in the hand. The soul cannot be subdi- vided and distributed in this manner. The whole soul is in the hand, when the hand is lifted up ; and in the foot, when the foot is set down. The whole soul, the entire conscious ego, is in each nerve, and at every point of it, when it thrills ; and in each muscle, and at every point of it, when it contracts. And to express these truths and facts, so mysterious and yet so real and true, the philos- opher invented the verbal contradiction, that " the soul is FAITH AND WOEKS. 289 all in every part of the body." And the same use of lan- guage meets us in everyday life, as well as in the specula- tions of the philosopher. When, for instance, you are mourning the loss of a beloved friend, and you wish to convey the truth, that his death was gain to him but loss to you, you say, in concise and pointed, yet verbally con- tradictory phrase : " It is the survivor that dies." When, again, you desire to express the truth, that indiscriminate praise is worthless ; that a critic who pronounces every- thing presented for his judgment to be good and excellent, deserves no regard ; you do it in the sententious, but ver- bally contradictory proverb : " He who praises everybody, praises nobody." Again, would you express the truth which Solomon conveys in his question : " Hast thou found honey ? eat so much as is sufficient for thee, lest thou be filled therewith, and vomit it," you do it in the homely verbal contradiction : " Too much of a good thing, is good for nothing." These examples might be multiplied indefi- nitely. The proverbs of a nation — which are the con- densed and pointed sense of the people, the truest of truths — are very often couched in phraseology that, if taken in a literal signification, is absurd. Before we conclude, therefore, that two writers are in conflict with each other, we must first determine their gen- eral aim and purpose, and interpret particular individual statements accordingly. Two questions always arise, in this comparison of one author with another. First, are they looking at the same thing ; and, secondly, if so, do they occupy the same point of view. The perspective point is everything, in judging of the correctness of a picture. And this is specially true of religious objects, and truths. The spiritual world is so comprehensive and vast, that no observer can see the whole of it at once, and from a single point of vision. He must pass from point to point, and 13 290 CONNECTION BETWEEN obtain view after view. He must walk about Zion, before he can tell the towers thereof. It is because of the in- finitude of divine truth, that there are so many apparent contradictions — so many " paradoxes," as Lord Bacon de- nominates them — in the Christian system. It is for this reason, that there are more verbal contradictions in the Bible than in any other book. In one place we read : " Answer a fool according to his folly"; and at another : "Answer not a fool according to his folly." Upon one page we are told that, " Whosoever is born of God doth not commit sin " ; upon another that, " If we say we have no sin, we deceive ourselves, and the truth is not in us." These propositions are verbally contradictory, and yet when read in their connections, and explained in the light of the gen- eral drift of Scripture, they convey the highest truth in the most striking and impressive manner. The several authors of the inspired volume look at the great system of religious truth from many points of view, and each sees and depicts a different side of it. And he is the wise man who, instead of employing the microscopic vision of a fly crawling over a cornice, or some small ornament of the great temple of truth, is able to survey with the eye of an architect all their individual representations, and to com- bine them into one grand and all-comprehending scheme. These remarks prepare us to consider the verbal con- tradiction between the apostles Paul and James, and to determine whether it is a real and irreconcilable one. The two waiters are contemplating the same thing — the sinner's justification before God. Paul asserts that "a man is justified by faith, without the works of the law" — that is, by faith only. James affirms that " by works a man is justified, and not by faith only." Both are speaking of the sinner's justification ; but not to the same class of j>ersons, and, therefore, not from the same point of view. One is FAITH AND WORKS. 291 arguing against sincere legalists, and the other against hypocritical believers. This explains, and harmonizes, the difference between them. I. St. Paul is addressing legalists — a class of errorists who maintained that man's works of morality are the ground of his justification ; are a satisfaction of the law for past transgressions, and entitle him to the rewards of the future life. The religionist of this class makes the same use of his own virtues, acts, and merits, that the evangelical believer makes of the blood and righteous- ness of Christ. He rests in them for justification and ac- ceptance before God. Now to this class of persons, the apostle Paul says: "By the works of the law, shall no flesh be justified ; by the deeds of the law, there shall no flesh be justified ; a man is justified by faith, without the deeds of the law." (Gal. ii. 16 ; Kom. iii. 20, 28.) It was with reference to their particular opinion, that a man's own works could atone for sin and merit heaven, that the apostle asserts that man's works are worthless and useless. Standing upon this position, and addressing moralists and legalists, he could say without any qualification, that a sinner is justified by mere and simple faith in Christ's vi- carious sacrifice, without the addition to it, or combination with it, of any of his own works, good or bad. The ex- piatory work of Christ is in and of itself a complete satis- faction, and there is no need of completing the complete. There is no need of gilding refined gold, or painting the lily. There is no need, even if it could be done, of sup- plementing or perfecting the Divine provision for the forgiveness of sin, by a human agency. The oblation of Christ is suflScient, alone, and by itself, to satisfy the broken law ; and he who trusts in it as the sole ground and reason of pardon, need not bring with him a single jot or tittle of his own work. And when any sinner begins to 292 CONNECTION BETWEEN look around for something wherewith to appear before the awful Eternal Justice, and answer its demands, he discov- ers the worthlessness of even the best of human works. There is nothing expiatory in human virtue. There is no judicial suffering in it. Good works do not bleed ; and " without the shedding of blood there is no remission." To attempt, therefore, to expiate sin by performing good works, is not an adaptation of means to ends. It is like attempting to quench thirst, by eating bread. Bread is necessary to human life considered as a whole, but it can- not slake thirst. So too, good works are necessary to hu- man salvation taken as a whole, but they cannot accom- plish that particular part of human salvation which consists in satisfying the law for past transgressions. Without personal holiness no man shall see the Lord, and yet no amount of personal holiness can wash out the stain of guilt. All this, which tallies exactly with St. Paul's dec- laration, is understood by the sinner, the instant he sees guilt and atonement in their mutual relations. While he perceives very clearly, that in reference to other points, and other purposes, Christian character is indispensable, and good works must be performed, yet having respect to the one single, momentous particular of deliverance from the penalty of the law, he very clearly perceives that good works are good for nothing. They cannot enter into the account, for purposes of justification, even in part. The atonement for sin is not partly the death of Christ, and partly the merits of the sinner. It is the death of Christ alone, without any works of the law. "I feel" — says Chalmers — "that the righteousness of Christ unmixed with baser materials, untempered with strange mortar, un- vitiated by human pretensions of any sort, is the solid resting-place on which a man is to lay his acceptance be- fore God, and that there is no other ; that to attempt a com- FAITH AND WOKKS. 293 position between grace and works is to spoil both, and is to deal a blow both to the character of God, and to the cause of practical holiness." ' Such is the doctrine of the apostle Paul respecting justiiication, as enunciated from his point of view, and having reference to the moralist and legalist. II. We are now, in the second place, to examine the doc- trine of the apostle James, upon the same subject, as stated from his point of view, and with reference to a wholly different class of persons. For, the errorists whom St. James was combating were hypocritical helievers, and not sincere legalists. They did not deny the doctrine of justification by faith. They did not, like the moralist whom St. Paul opposed, affirm that man could be justified by the works of the law, either wholly or in part. On the contrary, they were orthodox in theory, evangelical in phraseology, and profuse in their declarations that works were useless, and that nothing but faith could save the soul. This is evident from the course of the apostle's reasoning with them. " What doth it profit, my brethren, though a man say [pretend] he hath faith, and have not works ? Can [such] faith save him ? If a brother or sister be naked, and destitute of daily food, and one of you say unto them. Depart in peace, be you warmed and filled : notwithstanding ye give them not those things which are needful to the body : What doth it profit ? Even so faith, if it hath not works is dead, being alone." This reasoning implies, that the opponents of the apostle James were not in the least tinctured with the Judaistic theory of justifica- tion by works, but were using the evangelical doctrine of justification by faith in such a way as to abuse it. They were not zealous sticklers for the law, but hypocritical and false professors of the gospel. ' Chalmers' Memoirs, II. 190. 294 , CONNECTION BETWEEN Accordingly, St. James combats, not St. Paul's time faith, but the spurious faith of these errorists. He attacks what he denominates " dead faith." Probably there is an allusion here to St. Paul's use of the word, when he speaks of " dead works," and of being " dead to the law." James tells these hypocrites, who are boasting of their faith, and making it the cloak of licentiousness, that as there is a dead work, spoken of by St. Paul, so there is a dead faith, such as they are professing ; and neither the dead work nor the dead faith can save the soul. The class of errorists whom he opposes "5a^<^" they had faith. They pretended to trust in the person and work of the Son of God ; but they had never been truly convicted of sin, had never felt godly sorrow, and had never exercised an evangelical peace-giving confidence in atoning blood. They were hyp- ocrites. Their faith, in James's phraseology, was " alone." It had no connection with works. It was not an active and operative principle in the heart, but the mere breath on their lips. It was a counterfeit, and not the genuine thing of which St. Paul speaks. !Now, in disparaging such a hypocritical non-working faith as this, and affirming that it could not justify a sinner, St. James is not disparaging sincere and true faith, and falls into no real contradiction with St. Paul. Standing upon the position of James, and called to address the same class of persons, Paul would have spoken in the same manner. He would have plainly told hypocritical men who were professing an inoperative and spurious faith, and making it an opiate for their con- science, and a cloak for licentiousness ; who were saying to the naked and destitute Christian brother, "Depart in peace, be thou warmed and filled," but were doing nothing for his relief — he would have plainly and solemnly told them that such faith could not save them. He would have asked the same question with James : " What doth it FAITH AND WOEKS. 295 profit, though a man say he hath faith, and have not works ; can faith [that has not works] save him ? " Tliere would have been no danger of legalism, or of misconception ; for they would have understood that by " faith," he meant their faith — their non-working and hypocritical profession.' And standing upon the position of Paul, and called to ad- dress an altogether different class of errorists, who expected to atone for sin by their own works and merit, the apostle James, with his Old Testament conceptions of law and ex- piation, and his stern uncompromising view of sin as guilt, would have spoken of a living and true faith in the sacri- fice of the Lamb of God — " our Lord Jesus Christ, the Lord of glory," as he affectionately and reverently calls him — as the only act whereby a sinner can be delivered from his guilt, and the curse of the violated law. There are two proofs of this latter assertion, to which we direct attention for a moment. In the first place, the apostles James and Paul both alike accepted that state- ment of the essential principles of the gospel which was formulated in the Apostolic convention. In the fifteenth chapter of the Acts of the Apostles, there is an account of an assembly of the apostles and elders, to discuss the ques- tion in dispute between the converted Jews and the con- verted Gentiles, whether obedience to the Mosaic law was necessary in order to salvation, or whether a simple faith in the person and work of Christ was sufficient. The de- cision was unanimous, that faith in Christ was the only essential requisite. This decision was sent out in a letter to all the churches, and has gone down from century to century, as an inspired declaration of the real nature of ' In the original (James ii. 14), the hypocrisy of the faith is indicated by the presence of the article in one instance, and its absence in the other. The hypocrite says that he has faith— ir/o-Tii/ anarthrous ; the apostle asks if r\ tt/o-tij — this kind of faith — can save him. 296 CONNECTION BETWEEN Christianity. James advocated, in the convention, the same views with Peter and the other apostles, and lent the weight of his authority and influence, in favor of the doctrine of justification by faith without the works of the law. In the second place, there is proof in this very Epistle, which St. James addresses to " the twelve Jewish tribes which are scattered abroad," that he considered faith, and not works, to be the cardinal truth of Christianity. In the course of the discussion, the supposition is made, that faith and works can be separated, and exist the one with- out the other : " Yea, a man may say. Thou hast faith, and I have works." (James ii. 18.) The apostle, in his answer to this, so shapes his statement, as not only to deny the possibility of any such divorce between the two, but also to show that he considered faith to be the root and principle, and works only the fruit and evidence, of justification. For although he is laying a very strong emphasis upon works, yet he does not say, in reply to this supposition that faith and works can be sepa- rated : " Shew me thy faith without any works, and I will shew thee my works without any faith." But his answer is one that Paul himself would have given in a similar case : " Shew me thy faith without thy works " — a thing that is impossible — " and I will show thee my faith hy my works." The implication of this answer is, not only that true and living faith cannot exist without showing itself in good works, but that good works are secondary to faith, as being its effect and evidence. Works are not the root, but the branches. And in dealing with a legalist, we can easily imagine St. James to accommodate the language of St. Paul, used in another connection : " Boast not of the branches. But if thou boast, remember that the branches bear not the root, but the root bears the branches. Boast FAITH AND WORKS. 297 not of your works ; but if jou boast, remember that works do not produce faith, but faith produces works." The doctrine of St. James, then, to say it in a word, is, that a man is justified by a working faith. In some pas- sages of his Epistle, " works " signifies " true faith." The text is one of them ; and it might be read : " Ye see, then, how that by a working faith a man is justified, and not by a faith that has not works." In order to present, strongly and impressively, the truth at which he was aiming, he resorts to a well-known rhetorical figure, and puts the effect for the cause — the works of faith, for faith itself. " Works " stand for " working faith," when he asserts that "Abraham was justified by works, when he had of- fered up Isaac his son ;" and that " Kahab was justified by works, when she sent the messengers out another way." In these instances, the term " works " denotes the genuine faith that works, in contradistinction to the spurious faith that does not work. Dead faith has no energy, and no work in it. Living faith is full of energy, and full of work ; and therefore, by the metonymy of effect for cause, may be denominated " work " — as Christ so calls it, when he says : " This is the work of God, that ye believe on him whom he hath sent." (John vi. 29.) This also ex- plains the meaning of St. James, when he says, that " Abraham's faith wrought with his works, and by works was faith made perfect." Abraham's act of obedience to the Divine command to sacrifice his son, was a work that proved beyond all doubt that his faith was sincere and " perfect," and not spurious and hypocritical. This " work," therefore, might well stand for, and represent, the mighty " faith " that produced it. In saying that Abraham and Eahab were " justified by works," St. James is conceiving of, and describing faith as an active and working jprincijyle^ like that which St. Paul has in mind, when he speaks of 13* 298 CONNECTION BETWEEN " faith which worketh bj love " (Gal. v. 6) ; when he thanks the Thessalonians for their " work of faith " (1 Thess. 1. 3) ; and when he urges Titus to preach in such a manner, that " they which have believed in God might be careful to maintain good works " (Titus iii. 8). The con- tradiction between the two apostles is, therefore, verbal only, and not real. Both hold the same evangelical doc- trine.' This exhibition of the agreement between Paul and James leads us to notice, in closing, the importance of guarding the doctrine of gratuitous justification against abuse, by showing the natural and necessary connection between it and sanctification. St. James, in his day, found a class of persons in the church who made Christ a min- ister of sin, and who " sinned," knowingly and wantonly, " that grace might abound." Because the blood of Christ cleanseth from all sin, they inferred that they might indulge in sin. If they stained themselves, it was easy to wash the stain out. Because good works could not avail, either wholly or in part, to atone for transgression, therefore they need not perform them for any purpose whatever. The righteousness of Christ was suflficient for their justification, and therefore they need not follow after holiness, or seek in- ward sanctification. In this way, they abused the grace of God, and converted that truth which is a savor of life unto life, into a savor of death unto death. It is often remarked, * The Westminster Confession, XI. ii., admirably sums up the whole truth, in the following proposition : " Faith is the alone instrument of justification ; yet it is not alone in the person justified, but is ever ac- companied with other saving graces." The first half of this proposition contains St. Paul's statement, that " a man is justified by faith without the deeds of the law ; " and the second half of it contains St. James's statement, that "faith, if it hath not works is dead, being alone." To say that a man is justified by " faith alone," is not the same as to say that he is justified by *' faith that is alone." FAITH AND WOEKS. 299 that the greatest of blessings when perverted becomes the greatest of evils. And so it is with the doctrine of gratui- tous justification. If any man makes use of it as an opiate to his conscience, and a means of indulging himself in sin, or ease in Zion, he becomes fearfully selfish, and fearfully hardened. He treads the atoning blood under foot. There is evidence in the Epistle of James, that those who were thus maltreating the gospel, and abusing the doctrine of free grace in Christ, were very far gone in earthliness and sin. The kind of sins which the apostle rebukes, and the style in which lie does it, evince this. He severely reproves them for their regard for human dis- tinctions, in exalting the man with a gold ring and goodly apparel, and humbling the poor man in vile raiment ; for their reckless use of the tongue, in slandering and boast- ing ; for their grasping after office and authority, in en- deavoring to be " many masters ; " for their quarrelling, envying, and even " fightings " — moving the apostle to address them sternly : " Ye adulterers and adulteresses, know ye not that the friendship of the world is enmity with God ? " for their inordinate avarice, which led them to " keep back the hire of the laborer by fraud, and to heap up treasure for the last days ; " for their sensuality, in " living in pleasure and wantonness on the earth, and nourishing their hearts as in day of slaughter." (James ii. 1-9 ; iii. 1-v. 6.) These sins, thus specified and rebuked, seem to have crept into the Jewish-Christian churches to whom St. James addressed his Epistle ; for there is no reason to suppose that he would have thus particularized them, had they not been in existence. And they are ag- gravated transgressions. It was no ordinary corruption that had come into these scattered churches, by the abuse of the doctrine of free grace. Human nature is the same now that it was then ; and it 300 CONNECTION BETWEEN becomes necessary, therefore, for the believer to guard against even the slightest tendency to live at ease in the Churchjbecause the Church is not under law but under grace. If the blood of Christ is a complete atonement for our sin, this is a reason why we should resist unto blood striving against sin, and not a reason why we should supinely yield to sin. If there is no condemnation to them that are in Christ Jesus, this is a reason why we should dread to incur any new condemnation, and not a reason why we should add to the already immense debt which Christ has assumed for us. The effectual preservative against such a tendency as this, is to remember the wholesome doctrine of St. James, that a man is not justified by a dead faith, but by a work- ing faith. A dead faith has no justifying efficacy, be- cause, as St. Paul remarks of a heathen idol, " it is nothing in the world." It is a nonentity. A dead faith — a faith that does nothing, and produces nothing — is nothing. It is a pretence. It is sheer hypocrisy. It can no more save the soul, than sin can save it. Try yourself, then, by this test. Does your faith in Christ's atonement worli, f When you have trusted in the blood and righteousness of Christ for acceptance with the holy God, do you find that this reliance of your heart then goes out into acts ? Does it go out in love, peace, joy, long-suffering, meekness, hope ? These are internal acts of the mind and heart ; and they are the fruit, and evidences of faith. Does it go out in external acts — in prayer, praise, labor for the good of souls, discharge of the various duties of a Christian profession ? If this is your happy case, yours is a working faith, and a justifying faith. Notice that these works — this peace, joy, hope, prayer, praise, Christian benevolence, and discharge of duty — are not the ground and reason of your justification, but only the effect FAITH AND WOKKS. 301 and fruits of it. You are accepted of God, and acquitted by him, solely and simply because you confide in Christ's death for sin. You are justified by this one act of faith in Christ's atonement, apart from any of these resulting works. And being thus justified, you then act out your faith in and by these works — internal and external. There is no legality in your experience, and yet you keep the law with great particularity. While you do not look to the law in the least for justification, you nevertheless magnify and honor the law by your obedience to its re- quirements. You do not obey the law in order to obtain the forgiveness of your sins. They are already forgiven for Christ's sake. That part of your salvation is secure. But you obey the law because you are forgiven ; because you love to obey ; and because it is the command of God to obey. You obey it because your faith in Christ's blood is living, and not dead ; is working faith, and not in- operative faith ; is sincere faith, and not hypocritical faith — the genuine principle which St. Paul praises and de- fends, and not the counterfeit which St. James condemns and attacks. SERMON XX. THE CHRISTIAN IMPERFECT, YET A SAINT. COLOSSIANS iii. 12. — '* Put on, therefore, as the elect of God, holy and beloved, bowels of mercies, kindness, humbleness of mind, meekness, long-suffering." It appears singular to the reader of St. Paul's Epistles, that the apostle in one passage speaks of Christians as perfect, and in another as imperfect. At one time, he describes them in terms that would lead us to infer that they are holy as God is holy ; and at another, he speaks of them as full of sin and corruption. In the text, he de- nominates them " the elect of God holy and beloved," and yet immediately proceeds to exhort them to the possession and practice of the most common Christian graces — such as humility and forgiveness. In a preceding paragraph, he tells the Colossians that they " are dead to sin, and their life is hid with Christ in God," and then goes on to urge them to overcome some of the most gross sins in the whole catalogue — " mortify, therefore, your members which are upon the earth ; fornication, uncleanness, inordinate affec- tion, evil concupiscence, and covetousness which is idola- try." (Coloss. iii. 3-5.) This characteristic is very strikingly exhibited in St. Paul's Epistles to the Corinthians. We know from both of the letters which he wrote to this church, that there was THE CHRISTIAN IMPERFECT, YET A SAINT. 303 much corruption within it. Planted in the midst of one of the most vicious cities of the pagan world, the converts to Christianity had been drawn forth from a very unclean paganism, and after their conversion they were exposed to the strongest temptations. Some of their number yielded to them. The apostle calls upon the Corinthian church to dis- cipline one of its members for incest ; he rebukes them for their shameful abuse of the Lord's Supper ; for their party spirit, and jealousies, that led them to take sides with men — with Paul, and Apollos, and Cephas ; and for the bicker- ings and litigations that arrayed Christian against Chris- tian, even in the courts of the idolatrous pagan. And yet, in the opening of his first Epistle, St. Paul addresses such a church as this, in the following terms : " I thank my God always on your behalf, for the grace of God which is given you by Jesus Christ ; that in everything ye are en- riched by him, in all utterance, and in all knowledge ; even as the testimony of Christ was confirmed in you ; so that ye come behind in no gift ; waiting for the coming of our Lord Jesus Christ ; who shall also confirm you unto the end, that ye may be blameless in the day of our Lord Jesus Christ." (1 Cor. i. 4-8.) How are we to explain such opposite representations ? Is the Christian " holy and beloved," and yet at the same time vile and polluted ? Is he " dead to sin and his life hid with Christ in God," and also a wretched man " tied to the body of this death," and crying out, " Who shall deliver me ? " Can he say with the Psalmist, " Preserve me, O ray God, for I am holy," and with Isaiah, " I am un- done, I am a man of unclean lips ? " Does St. Paul cor- rectly describe the experience of a renewed man, both when he utters himself in the confident phrase : " I live, yet not I, but Christ liveth in me ; " and when he expresses his anxieties in the afiirmation, that he struggles daily 304 THE CHRISTIAN IMPERFECT, with indwelling corruption, and " keeps his body under, lest he should be a cast-away from God ? " It is even so. This is one of the paradoxes of Christianity, as Lord Bacon calls them. " A Christian," he says, " is one that believes things his reason cannot comprehend, and hopes for things which neither he nor any man alive ever saw ; he believes three to be one, and one to be three, a father not to be older than his son, and a son to be equal with his father ; he believes himself to be precious in God's sight, and yet loathes himself in his own ; he dares not justify himself even in those things wherein he can find no fault with him- self, and yet believes that God accepts him in those ser- vices wherein he is able to find many faults ; he is so ashamed as that he dares not open his mouth before God, and yet he comes with boldness to God, and asks him any- thing he needs ; he hath within him both flesh and spirit, yet he is not a double-minded man; he is of ten led captive by the law of sin, yet, it never gets dominion over him ; he cannot sin, yet can do nothing without sin ; he is so humble as to acknowledge himself to deserve nothing but evil ; and yet he believes that God means him all good." These are contradictions to the carnal mind. These things are foolishness to the Greek. Richard Porson, one of the most learned classical scholars that England ever saw, and a profound admirer of Lord Bacon, tells his reader that he knows not what to make of this list of paradoxes, and actually raises the query, whether Lord Bacon might not have been laboring under a momentary fit of skepticism, at the time he penned them. This " specification of the characteristics of a believing Christian," by the most so- ber and sagacious of English philosophers and statesmen, which the believing Christian cannot peruse without pro- found admiration at the depth of its evangelical insight, and tender emotion for the comfort it gives him — this de- YET A SAINT. 305 lineation of the inmost heart of the gospel, and of the Christian experience, actually raised doubts in the mind of a learned man of this world, whether Bacon of Yerularn was not the subject of a lurking skepticism ! "We preach Christ crucified, unto the Jews a stumbling-block, and unto the Greeks foolishness." (1 Cor. i. 23.) These paradoxes are not self-contradictions. The decla- ration : " When I am weak, then I am strong," does not afiirm and deny the same thing. It affirms that when the sinful and helpless man feels and confesses his utter impo- tence, then the holy and almighty God comes to his rescue and salvation. The affirmation that the Christian " be- lieves himself to be precious in God's sight, yet loathes himself in his own ; that he is often led captive by sin, yet it does not get dominion over him;" is self -consistent and true, because one side of the proposition does not conflict with the other side. Verbally contradictory it is logically harmonious. In the light of these remarks, let us proceed to explain how it is, that the apostle Paul can address a very imper- fect church like the Colossian, with the title of " holy and beloved ; " and why the Word of God calls an imperfectly sanctified believer a " saint ? " The reason why a believer in the Lord Jesus Christ, al- though struggling with sin here on earth, is designated by the very same term employed to describe the pure and perfect spirits in heaven, lies in the fact that he is a new creature. " If any man be in Christ, he is a new creature ; old things have passed away, and all things have become new." If a man's moral nature has undergone a radical change, it is proper to speak of him with reference to such a transformation, and to employ language that in another connection and reference would be both strange and un- true. Suppose, for illustration, that the genius of John 306 THE CHRISTIAN IMPERFECT, Milton, by the miraculous power of God, should have been converted in the fourth year of his age into the genius of Isaac Newton. Suppose that the poetical nature of the author of the Paradise Lost, should have been transformed into the scientific nature of the author of the Principia, at an early period in life, before the maturity of the mental powers had arrived. In this case, would it not be correct and proper to employ concerning this " new man " within the man Milton, this new basis for thought and investiga- tion, all the phraseology which we now apply to Sir Isaac Newton ? Though only four years old, and though the relics of the old poetical nature might be still lingering in him, like fragments of rich crimson tapestry in an old royal palace, still we could say of this youthful convert from poetry to science, that he was a perfect mathemati- cian ; that the law of gravitation was within his ken ; that the theorems of the Principia were all scored in his young brain. That which is inlaid in man by the power of God is destined to a development ; and the unfolding cannot be thwarted. And therefore it is, that we may describe a morally renewed man, in the very opening of his career, by terms and phraseology derived from the close of it. We may call him a " perfect " man, because he is destined to become such. We may call him a " saint," because God has elected him to be one, and will carry out his purpose. We may call him a citizen of the kingdom of heaven on high, because a principle of holiness has been implanted within him that will bring him there. Such application of language is spontaneous and natural to us, in daily life. Whenever we discover an inward basis for a particular result, we do not hesitate to speak of the result as if it had already occurred. You see, for il- lustration, a man lying upon a bed in a hospital, and are told that he is sick with pulmonary consumption. The YET A SAINT. 307 hollow cheek, the hectic flush, the emaciated flesh, the gasping inspiration, all show that the man is in the last stages of that terrible disease concerning which Machia- velli remarks, that " in the beginning it is easy to cure but difficult to understand, but in the end, is easy to under- stand and difficult to cure." ' As you look upon him, you say to yourself : " He is a dead man." You spontaneously anticipate the natural result. The breath of life is still in him. He looks into your eyes with the glance of human intelligence. He is not cold and silent in death. He speaks to you, and you to him. Yet you say : " He is a dead man." There is a basis for death in him. The prin- ciple of mortality, the power of death, is within him, and you merely ante-date, by a few days, weeks or months, its inevitable consequences and results. The Scriptures reason in the same manner, concerning the state and condition of the unrenewed man. They call him dead, long before his body actually dies, and long be- fore his soul feels the pangs of the second death. Though the sinner is apparently happy and well, engaged in the business and pleasures of earth, the blood coursing vividly in his veins, and his spirits bounding and free, yet the solemn and truthful Word of God describes him in terms that are borrowed from the dust and crumble of the tomb. They never regard him, or call him, a living man. " Awake, O sleeper, and Christ shall give thee life," is the startling tone in which they speak to the impenitent man of busi- ness, and man of pleasure. Christ everywhere represents it as his mission, to impart life. The Son of man is lifted up upon the atoning cross, " that whosoever believeth in him should not perish, but have eternal life. He that be- lieveth not the Son shall not see life. Except ye eat the flesh of the Son of man, and drink his blood, ye have no » Machiavelli : The Prince, Cli. III. 308 THE CHRISTIAN IMPERFECT, life in you. If one died for all, then were all dead." This is the view which the Scriptures take of every unre- generate man, because they perceive in him a principle of sin, and spiritual disease, that will just as surely develop into the death and woe of hell, as the principle of physical disease will expand and unfold into the pangs and dissolu- tion of the body. As in the instance of the renewed man, the Scriptures ante-date the natural and certain conse- quences of the new birth, and anticipate the natural and certain results of the new principle of spiritual life, and de- nominate the Christian a saint, holy and beloved, long before he reaches the heavenly world, and long before he attains to sinless perfection, so upon the same principle, they ante-date the sure and unfailing development of sin in the natural man, and, long before he actually enters the sad world of woe, speak of him as dead and lost. On the side of sin, as well as on the side of holiness, it is natural and proper to see the fruit in the seed, and to attribute to the little seed, all the properties and qualities of the ripe and perfected fruit. " Whatsoever a man soweth, that also shall he reap." Let us now consider some of the lessons, that are taught by the fact that God denominates his imperfectly sancti- fied people, " holy and beloved," the " saints of the Most High God." I. The first lesson to be derived from this subject is, that the child of God should not be ducouraged because he discovers indwelling sin, and imperfection, within himself. A believer in the Lord Jesus Christ ought never to be dis- couraged. He ought to be humble, watchful, nay, some- times fearful, but never despondent, or despairing. David, Paul, and the Colossian church were imperfect. But they were new men in Christ Jesus, and they are now perfectly holy and happy in heaven. YET A SAINT. 309 The duty of the Christian is, to assure himself upon scriptural grounds of his regeneration, and then to " work out his salvation with fear and trembling, because it is God that worketh in him to will and to do." The fact that he is a new creature, if established, is a proof that God is helping him in the struggle with indwelling sin ; and when God helps, victory is sure in the end. Believers are commanded to " examine themselves," not for the pur- pose of seeing whether they are perfectly sanctified, but "whether they be in the faith." We may make our self-examination minister to our discom-agement, and hin- drance in the Christian race, if, instead of instituting it for the purpose of discovering whether we have a penitent spirit, and do cordially accept Christ as our righteousness, we enter upon it for the purpose of discovering if we are entirely free from corruption. Remainders of the old fallen nature may exist in connection with true faith in Christ, and a new heart. Paul bemoans himself, saying : " The good which I would I do not ; but the evil which I would not that I do." But Paul was certain that he trusted in the blood of Christ for the remission of sin ; that he was a new man in Christ Jesus, and influenced by totally different motives from those that actuated him when he persecuted the Church of Christ ; that he loved Christ more than the whole universe, and " counted all things but dung that he might win Christ," and become a perfect creature in him. The .first and chief thing, therefore, which the Christian should have in his eye, in all his self-examination, is, to determine upon scriptural grounds whether he is a renewed man. The evidences of regeneration are plain, and plainly stated. We have already hinted at them. A sense of guilt and cordial acceptance of Christ's atonement, a desire to be justified by his precious blood, a peaceful confidence 310 THE CHEISTIAN IMPERFECT, in God's righteousness and method of justifying a sinner — this is the first and infallible token of a new heart, and a right spirit. Then, secondly, a weariness of sin, " a groan- ing, being burdened " under its lingering presence and re- maining power, a growing desire to be entirely delivered from it, and a purer simpler hungering after holiness — these are the other evidences of regeneration. Search yourselves to see whether these things be in you, and if you find them really, though it may be faintly and feebly, in your experience, do not be discouraged because along with them you discover remaining corruption. Remember that as a man struck with death is a dead man, so a soul that has been quickened into life is a living soul, even though the remnants of disease still hang about it and upon it. The " new man " in Christ Jesus will eventually slay stone-dead the "old man" of sin. The "strong man " has entered into the house, and bound the occupant hand and foot, and he will in time " spoil his house." The truth that God will carry forward his work in the renewed soul, and that the principle of piety implanted by Divine grace will develop to perfection, may indeed be abused by the false Christian ; but this is no reason why the genuine child of God should not use it for his en- couragement, and progress in this divine life. One of the evidences of regeneration, however, if considered, will pre- vent all misuse of the doctrine of the saint's perseverance. A " groaning, being burdened " by the remaining presence of sin, is a sign of being a new creature. How can a man have this grief and sadness of heart at the sight of his in- dwelling corruption, and at the same time roll sin as a sweet morsel under the tongue ? How shall one, whose great burden it is, that he is tied to the body of sin and death, proceed to make that burden heavier and heavier, by a life of ease, indifference and worldliness ? " How YET A SAINT. 311 shall we that are dead to sin live any longer therein ? " No, my brother, if you really groan, being burdened be- cause you are still so worldly, so proud, so selfish, so sinful, you are a new creature. You never did this in the days of your impenitency. You were " alive without the law," then. You did not feel the heavy, weary, weight pressing down upon you. You did not say with the Psalmist, as you now do : " My sin is ever before me." This very im- perfection which you now painfully feel, is the very evi- dence that you are on the way to perfection ; it is the sign that there is a new principle of holiness implanted in your soul, one of whose effects is this very consciousness of re- maining corruption, and one of whose glorious results will be the final and eternal eradication of it, when the soul leaves the body and enters paradise. II. The second lesson taught by the subject, is the duty of the Christian to cultivate the new nature, and develop the new principle of holiness. " Put on," says St. Paul, " as the elect of God, holy and beloved, bowels of mercies, kindness, humbleness of mind, meekness, long-suffering." By this, it is not to be under- stood, that mercifulness, kindness, humility, meekness, and patience, are graces that are to be originated by the Chris- tian, and added to his character by his own agency. These are traits that belong intrinsically to the "new man" in Christ Jesus. These are qualities that issue from the " new heart," and the " right spirit," which the regenerat- ing power of God has originated. To " put them on," therefore, is to put them forth ; to elicit them ; to draw them out from within, and exhibit them in daily life. They are all contained germinally in the regenerate mind ; and the particular duty which is devolved upon the believer is that of training them. Do you ask, How ? We answer : By taking every oc- 312 THE CHEISTIAN IMPERFECT, casion to exercise them. One of the graces is " kindness " — a gentle, affectionate, benevolent feeling towards every fellow-creature. Every opportunity that you seize to give expression to such a sentiment, elicits what is within you ; it draws upon the reserve and strength of your religious character in that particular direction, and trains it. Why is it that these " bowels of mercies," as St. Paul phrases it ; this yearning compassion for the human soul ; is so striking a characteristic of devoted teachers in church schools and mission schools, in home and foreign mission- aries, and in all that class of Christians who are engaged in personal efforts for the salvation of men ? It is because they " put on " this particular grace, by exerting it in daily life. Strain day after day upon a particular muscle, and it will begin to swell and rise above the flesh. You do not create the muscle by this effort, but you stimulate and strengthen it. There is too much Christian character lying dormant, and latent, because there is so much neglect of self-culture in the Church. We have no confidence in the attempt to cultivate an unrenewed man into piety. He must be boiTi again, in order that there may be something to cultivate — something to educate, to elicit, in St. Paul's phrase, to " put on." But we have great confidence in the endeavor to cultivate a really renewed man. When a new heart has been formed, a new character has been produced, a new principle of religious life has been implanted by the Holy Spirit, then no process is more successful and beautiful than the process of cultivation. It is like cultivating a garden full of living things. Every prudent use of the pruning-knife ; every ministry of earth, air, water, and nour- ishment ; contributes to elicit the vital powers and princi- ples. Just so it is in the garden of the Lord. If Chris- tians were only as diligent in self-cultivation as many an YET A SAINT. 313 ambitious student is, nay, as many an ascetic papist or pa- gan devotee is, their growth would surprise even them- selves. The secular scholar shuts himself from business and pleasure ; he " scorns delights, and lives laborious days;" in order that he may gain renown, and "leave something so written to after-times as men will not will- ingly let die." Suppose that every professing Christian should devote himself with an equal assiduity, to the training of his own soul in divine knowledge and piety. Suppose that, like the scholar, he should make business and pleasure second and subservient to the one ruling principle of his mind and heart. Would not that princi- ple — and he has professed before angels and men, that it is the principle of faith in Christ's blood — be as power- fully stimulated, and as vigorously elicited, as is the prin- ciple of literary ambition in the ardent and toiling stu- dent ? Suppose, again, that every member of the Christian Church should spend as many hours in prayer, as many a Papist or Mohammedan does in his daily devotions, would not the religious character of the Church be stronger, deeper, and purer than it now is ? Suppose that all the myriads and millions in the visible Church were as self- sacrificing as the Hindoo ascetic who walks, perhaps creeps, hundreds of miles, to pay his devotions at a pagan shrine ; who swings himself round and round upon the sharp hooks, or mortifies his body even to mutilation — suppose that there were the same readiness to make an effort to be highly religious, in the average of professing Christians, that there is in these select few of the Papal Church, or the Mohammedan world, would not the I'esults and fruits be remarkable ? For you will bear in mind, that a given amount of power applied from a sanctified motive, and principle, will ac- 14 314 THE CHRISTIAN IMPEEFECT, YET A SAINT. complish vastly more than when applied from an unsancti- fied motive and principle. If at heart you are a moralist, or a worldling, your attempt to be holy and obedient to God will accomplish nothing in the long run, because your heart is not right with God. All your effort to be good, and to do good, from an unregenerate position, is a dead lift. But if you are renewed in the spirit of your mind, then all your endeavors to cultivate yourself in holiness ; all your self-denial, mortification of the body, and devotion to duty ; is like the application of mechanical power at the end of a long lever, and over a firm fulcrum. The re- newed man possesses what the mechanic terms a "pur- chase." His lift is not a dead lift, like that of the Pagan or Mohammedan devotee ; like that of the Roman Catholic ascetic ; like that of the Protestant moralist. " Put on, therefore, as the elect of God, holy and be- loved, bowels of mercies, kindness, humbleness of mind, meekness, long-suffering." As those who have been re- newed by Divine grace, and who possess a different spirit and character from that which belonged to you in the days of your impenitence, educate and elicit every Christian grace. Cultivate your Christianity. It is worth cultivat- ing. It is worth protecting from the cold blasts, and rude assaults of earth. Fence in the vineyard of the Lord. Put a hedge around it. Then the wild-boar of the wood shall not ravage it ; then the soil shall not be trodden down to hardness and barrenness, by the feet of the passers-by. SERMON XXI. SANCTIFICATION COMPLETED AT DEATH. 1 Corinthians ii. 9. — " 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. " These words primarily refer to the higher knowledge which is in reserve for the Christian in heaven. St. Paul is speaking to the Corinthian church of " the wisdom of God in a mystery, even the hidden wisdom which none of the princes of this world knew." He tells them that they know something of it here, but shall know far more of it hereafter. Upon earth, they see " through a glass darkly," but in heaven they shall see " face to face." In the next M^orld, all doubts and perplexities shall be removed from the understanding, and the mind shall enjoy clear and sat- isfactory perceptions of divine things. All the previous views upon such subjects will seem so dim, in comparison with the final vision and disclosure, that it may be said that eye has never seen, nor ear ever heard, nor heart ever conceived of it before. Not that the spiritual man while here below has had no inkling of the eternal vision, and no glimpse of the eternal truth ; but his knowledge is so inferior to what is poured into the mind when it enters heaven, that it seems nothing in comparison. But although the primary reference of the text is to an 316 SANCTIFICATION intellectual perception, rather than to an emotional enjoy- ment ; though the apostle directs attention rather to the soul's knowledge, than to the soul's happiness ; yet it is natural to refer these words, as we so generally do, to the blessedness of the redeemed in heaven. Probably the ma- jority of readers suppose that " the things which God hath prepared for them that love him " — those particular things which the apostle had in mind, as not visible by the earthly eye, not audible by the mortal ear, and not cognizable in this mode of existence — are the same that are described under the glowing imagery of the sea of glass, the sapphire pavement, the jasper foundations, and the gates of pearl. It is the heavenly happiness, i-ather than the heavenly knowledge, which commonly comes into mind when this text is quoted. And this, we have said, is natural and proper. ISTo violence is done to the apostle's teaching, when his words are followed in to their implication, and followed out to their full significance. For, heavenly knowledge produces heavenly happiness. To see, with a clear calm perception, the truths and the facts of eternity, is joy. Much of the dissatisfaction and unrest of the Christian life, upon earth, arises from indistinct and inad- equate perceptions. The soul " sees through a glass dark- ly," or, as the original signifies, " looks, through a mir- ror, into an enigma." It gropes its way in twilight, and a thick atmosphere. Like the mariner in a fog, it peers into the distance, and strains the eye, but sees no distinct object. In such a condition, though there may not be positive unhappiness, because there is hope that the winds and the sun will dispel the mist, yet there is no full and complete satisfaction. Not until the sun actually shines, and the long line of the coast quivers in the liquid light, and the mountain ranges lift themselves into bold view, are the eye and the heart of the mariner at rest. COMPLETED AT DEATH. 317 Spiritual knowledge, tlien, in its influence and effects, is spiritual enjoyment, and the words of the apostle may therefore be understood to teach, that the hwppiness which a believer will experience in heaven is so surpassingly great, in comparison with what he has experienced upon earth, that it may be said that his eye has not seen, nor his ear heard, nor his heart conceived of it. In order to understand this truth, and feel its impression, we must remember that the Christian life upon earth is a race and a fight, and consequently cannot be a rest and a paradise. The Scriptures uniformly represent the course and career of a believer, this side the grave, as one of con- flict, toil, and effort. " Except a man take his cross daily, he cannot be my disciple. In the world, ye shall have tribulation." These are the declarations of the Founder of Christianity, and they enunciate the real nature of his religion, as it must exist in a world that is sinful, full of temptation, and unfriendly to holiness. " "We are troubled on every side ; we are perplexed ; we are persecuted ; we are cast down. We continually bear about in the body, the dying of the Lord Jesus. We are always delivered unto death, for Jesus' sake." These are the assertions of one of the most eminent and successful of Christ's disciples ; and although he was called to experience more of external opposition and persecution than the Church at large, it is probable that he had his compensation, in being freer than most Christians from internal conflict and trouble. Whether, then, we consider the direct declaration of Christ himself, or the complaints of his people, we find that the life of a believer, so long as he is upon earth, is one of effort and struggle. For those who live in the peaceful times of the Church, this struggle and endeavor is chiefly of an inward kind. The life of a Christian, in more senses than one, is a hid- 318 SANCTIFICATION den life. What a subterranean current of temptation, and resistance, is silently running at this very instant in millions of human hearts. The world sees none of it ; but the un- seen combat with the invisible foe is every moment going on. How unceasingly is the conflict between the new man and the old man, the conscience and the will, the spirit and the flesh, the grace of God and the indwelling cor- ruption, waging in the soul of every child of God. In the market-place, in the house of God, in the privacy of the closet, in the intercourse of the household, how incessantly is the temptation presenting itself, and how constantly by the grace of God is it repulsed. Sometimes the wish arises that the temptations of this earthly course might be concentrated, and that the destiny of the soul might be de- cided by a single terrible conflict, instead of by this slow, pertinacious, life-long warfare. The acquisition of holiness, by a renewed man, resembles the ancient wars which were prolonged sometimes for more than a generation. The Dorians of Laconia fought seventy-six years with the Dori- ans of Messene, for the supremacy of that little patch of earth, the Peloponnesus. The Roman contended thirty years with the Samnite, for the possession of Italy, and forty years with the Carthaginian, for the dominion of the world. And the Christian fights his fight with the world, the flesh, and the devil, not in a day or a year, but through all his days, and all his years. Now it is plain, that such a state of things cannot last forever. " There remaineth a rest, for the people of God." Man was not designed by creation, to be eternally running a race, and eternally fighting a fight. He was intended for harmony, for peace, for joy. Nothing but sin has in- troduced such a condition of affairs. This struggle, and effort, results from the endeavor to get free from an un- lawful and wrong state of the soul. Had man not fallen, COMPLETED AT DEATH. 319 his career would have been the serene and unhindered one of the angels of God. It was his original destination, to be conformed to law without any struggle of opposing desires ; without any collision between will and conscience. As created, and unfallen, there was in man not the slight- est conflict between his duty and his inclination, and con- sequently there was no need, so far as the Divine intention was concerned, of any race, or any fight. When, there- fore, the grace of God quickens the " spirit," and slays the "flesh," in any individual man, and thus initiates that conflict between the two which St. Paul describes in the seventh chapter of Konians, it is not for the purpose of continuing the conflict through all eternity. It is a strug- gle only for time, and is to cease when time is over. The intention is, to bring in that perfect and blessed con- dition of the soul, in which all the powers are in right relations ; in which the higher shall firmly rule the lower, and the lower shall submissively obey the higher. Accordingly, the text teaches that the Christian who has been patient and faithful in running the race, and fighting the fight, will finally be relieved from the necessity of strain and effort. " Eye hath not seen, nor ear heard, neither have entered into the heart of man, the things which God hsitliprepared for them that love him. " The believer's experience here upon eartli has been trying and painful, and must not be taken as a specimen of the heavenly life. God has provided a blessed calm, and rest, beyond the tomb. It is something far beyond what the eye has seen here, what the ear has heard, what the heart has conceived of. The believer is sometimes disheartened, from imagining that his life in eternity will be much like his life in time. As he throws his glance forward, he seems to see stretch- ing before him an endless series of temptations and resist- ances, of successes and failures. As it is here, so he thinks 320 SANCTIFICATION it will be there — a perpetual race, an everlasting fight. But he should remember that the great God his Saviour intends to "perfect that which concerneth him ; " to com- plete the work of sanctification in his soul. And this, too, bj a direct intervention, when the soul leaves the body. As, at the new birth of his soul, God the Holy Ghost re- generated him by an instantaneous efficiency that was supernatural, and not a mere link in the ordinary move- ments of nature and providence, so, at death, the remain- ing corruption which the race and the fight have not succeeded in purging away, shall be removed by a corre- sponding decisive energy on the part of the Great Sanctifier. This must be so. For our text tells us of a " preparation " — a personal and direct arrangement upon the part of God. And how is the sin which the holiest of men are conscious of in their very dying hour to be cleansed away, except by the finishing strokes of Divine grace ? They have struggled with their inward corruption for many long years. They have not been idle in keeping the heart. They have not been unsuccessful ; for they have grown more saintly, to the close of life. And yet, like St. Paul, although "hav- ing the first fruits of the Spirit they still groan within themselves, waiting for their adoption, to wit, their com- plete redemption." (Rom. viii. 23.) At the same rate of progress as in the past, it would require years ; it might require one whole life-time after another ; to extirpate en- tirely the remaining depravity. How shall it be cleansed away, and the soul stand a spotless soul in the presence of Him who cannot endure the least taint of depravity, ex- cept by that crowning and completing act of grace, by which the imperfectly sanctified believer, in a moment, in the twinkling of an eye, becomes a "justified man made perfect ; " by which, when the believer beholds his Lord, " he shall be like him, for he shall see him as he is." COMPLETED AT DEATH. 321 "We live in a world of natural laws and operations, and for this reason find it difficult to get out of the circle of slow and gradual processes. Our Christian character, here below, forms and matures very much like the fruits of the earth — first the blade, then the ear, then the full corn in the ear. The oak builds up its fabric, by a slow assimila- tion of the nutritive elements, and compacts its fibre, by a long conflict with the winds and the storms ; and we, too, strengthen our moral force, and confirm our virtue, by a similar method. We are in the habit, consequently, of supposing that there is no other method than this gradual one, and limit the Divine efficiency by it. We forget that God is the sovereign of both realms — the natural and the supernatural — and that he is able and free to work in either of them. Even in our own personal history, he has so wrought. That act by which, when we were dead in tres- passes and sins, he made us alive unto righteousness, is not explainable upon natural principles. It was not by the gradual method of growth and education, that we made the passage from nature to grace. We were " created anew " in Christ Jesus. After the passage was made, we did indeed find that a process was commenced within our hearts that bore all the marks of a gradual, a continuous, and, alas ! a very slow movement. Our inordinate and earthly affections declined very gradually. Our envy, our pride, our malice, waned away so slowly, that we sometimes queried whether it was a waning, or a waxing. On the other hand, our devout and spiritual affections — our love, joy, peace, faith, hope — grew so slightly and feebly, that we could be certain that they had grown, only by comparing ourselves with ourselves after long intervals. Our sanctifi- cation has been progressive, and not instantaneous ; and in these respects finds its parallel in the leaven that gradually pervades the whole mass, and in the mustard-seed which re- 14* 322 SANCTIFICATION quires months and years for its expansion. But our regener- ation was instantaneous. "We have, therefore, within the sphere of our own experience, the proof that God works both instantaneously and progressively ; by a method that is startling, and a method that is uniform. He begins a work by a fiat, and then he carries it forward by a culture. He instantaneously creates us new men in Christ Jesus, and then he gradually educates us towards the stature of perfect men in Christ Jesus. We are not, therefore, to limit the Divine efficiency either to a creating, or to an educating function, solely. We ought not to suppose that because our regeneration was instantane- ous, the development and maturing of Christian character must be so likewise, and that therefore we may neglect the means of grace and of growth. And on the other hand, we ought not to think that because our sanctification proceeds so gradually, and is worked out by the trial, temptation, and discipline of a whole life-time, therefore all rapid changes are forever excluded from our future his- tory, and God will never intervene with a more determined and decisive influence. Our text helps us out of our proneness to err, by direct- ing attention to what God is intending to do in the souls of his children, when in his providence they shall be sum- moned before him. No one can appear in his presence with remaining sin. "Without holiness no man shall see the Lord." But we know that so long as we are in the flesh, the " motions of sins in our members " do continue to molest, and sometimes to foil us. Between the last mo- ments upon earth, and the first moments in heaven, there must, therefore, pass upon us that transformation by which the imperfect believer becomes the perfected saint. It is not a radical change, like that which introduced us into the kingdom of God. It is not the formation of a new COMPLETED AT DEATH. 323 heart, and a riglit spirit. But it is the completion, by a swift and mighty act of the Holy Spirit, of a process that was commenced it may be long years ago, and which has lingered and fluctuated with our feeble and hesitating ef- forts after holiness. He who upon earth has run the race, and fought the fight, will discover in that supreme moment when he first stands face to face with the Holy One, that Divine grace has been sufiicient for him. He will find himself to be perfectly holy, and perfectly happy. All that he has heretofore experienced of peace and joy is as nothing, in comparison with the blessedness which now fills his soul. Eye hath not seen, nor ear heard, nor heart conceived of it before. In comparison with the past im- perfection, the present spotlessness, and purity, and com- plete deliverance from all corruption, will appear almost incredible. Undoubtedly the feeling of surprise will mingle with the other emotions that will distend the redeemed soul, when it enters heaven. And this surprise will spring from the strange consciousness of being sinless. That moral corruption which was born with the soul ; which grew with its growth, and strengthened with its strength ; which received, indeed, its death wound by the sword of the Spirit, in regeneration, yet continued to show signs of lingering vitality down to the very hour of bodily dissolu- tion — that sin which has been a steady element in the con- sciousness of the man, never leaving nor forsaking him so long as he was upon earth, is now gone forever. Well may " the redeemed of the Lord come to Mount Zion, with singing and everlasting joy." Well may they say : " Eye hath not seen, ear hath not heard, neither hath it entered into the heart of man to conceive of the wonderful trans- formation which the final act of sanctifying grace produces in the soul." It was owing to the opinion that the complete sanctifica- 324 SANCTIFICATION tion of the Christian must be brought about by the ordi- nary influences of the Spirit, in the use of the common instrumentalities, that the doctrine of a cleansing in the intermediate state crept into the Church. Thoughtful and spiritual minds, like Augustine for example, perceived that indwelling corruption attends the Christian up to the very hour of death. They knew that no sin, however slight, can appear before God. Hence they supposed that the last stages of sanctification must occur beyond the tomb. They imagined that a certain period must be allotted in the future life to the imperfectly sanctified Christian, in wiiich his remaining corruption should be removed by the ordinary method of trial and discipline, and he thus be made " without spot, or wrinkle, or any such thing," pre- paratory to going into the light of the Divine countenance. But upon their own principles, there was no need of such an intermediate cleansing. Their view of grace ought to have precluded it. Augustine and his followers held, with great decision, the doctrine of iy'resisiible grace — the doctrine of an immediate and powerful energy of the Holy Spirit, by which the most marked changes can be wrought instantaneously in human character. Had they applied this theory of Divine influence to the completion of the work of sanctification, as they did to its inception, the notion of a gradual purgation beyond this life would not have arisen in their minds. The text, then, has turned our attention to that final act of God's redeeming grace, spoken of in the Westmin- ster Shorter Catechism (37), by which, " at death, the soul of a believer is made perfect in holiness, and im- mediately passes into glory." The eye hath not seen its operation, the ear hath not heard it, and the heart of man cannot comprehend it. Yet it is one of " the things which God hath prepared for them that love him." Having COMPLETED AT DEATH. 325 begun a work of grace in the fallen sonl, he will carry it forward unto " the day when he makes up his jewels " — the day of the perfecting and final act of grace — and every child of God may say confidently with the apostle: "I am persuaded that he is able to keep that which I have com- mitted to him against that day." I. In view of this truth, we remark, in the first place, that Christians should encourage themselves in their con- tinual race and warfare upon earth, by the recollection that they are not destined to run, and to Jight forever. A time is coming when will and conscience, duty and inclination will be perfectly identical. This conflict between the flesh and the spirit is eventually to cease, and holiness will be the natural and irrepressible activity of the soul. We know, by bitter experience, how easy and effortless the process of sinning is to a sinner ; we shall one day know, how easy and effortless the process of obedience is to a saint. There is a time coming, when the sorrow and fear by which God is now educating us will end, and we shall never grieve or be anxious again. Afl[liction will have accomplished its work within us, and then God will wipe away all tears. There is a time coming, when the weak and struggling human will is to be no more solicited and staggered by temptation ; when there will be no remaining corruption to send up its appetites, and no unfriendly world of outward objects to seduce the soul from God. The race and the fight are not for eternity, but only for time. II. In the second place, the Christian should drive off sluggishness, by recollecting that " a man is not crowned^ except he strive lawfully.''^ (2 Tim. ii. 5.) He must not fold his arms, and neglect the keeping of his heart here upon earth, because there is such a power in God to per- fectly sanctify the human soul. Sanctifying influences are 326 SANCTIFICATION granted to man, not absolutely and unconditionally. They come to him in connection with the covenant of grace. They are a part of an economy. He therefore who has not entered into that covenant, and is not living under the economy as a whole, cannot participate in the benefits of a part of it. The whole or none, is the rule in spiritual things. He, therefore, who does not daily take up his cross on earth, must not expect to be the recipient of that crowning grace of the Holy Spirit which perfects the soul in holiness. This is the fatal error in the Sacramentarian theory of grace. The Papist supposes that a person may live an earthly and unspiritual life, and yet that by virtue of the merely outward baptism of the Church, the cleans- ing influence will be imparted. He forgets the apostolic dictum : " That a man is not crowned, except he strive lawfully " — that only he who carefully observes the rules of the game, and of the arena, is entitled to the rewards of the victor. He who attempts surreptitiously to obtain the prize ; he who would steal the garland or the crown ; will be repulsed ignominiously, and with contempt. He who thinks to secure those great and lofty things which God has prepared for them that love him, without passing through the antecedent and preparatory steps and stages, will in the last day meet with a terrible rebuke for his presumption, and his selfishness, and his worthlessness. This consideration is enough to drive off sluggishness, and urge the Christian to constant activity. The com- pleting of any work implies that it has been commenced, and has passed through some stages of progress. If there be nothing begun, it is absurd to speak of a finishing stroke. Every sin, therefore, that is resisted, every tempta- tion that is repulsed, and every grace that is strengthened in the daily struggle, brings the work so much the nearer to its conclusion. By these efforts we evince that we " love COMPLETED AT DEATH. 327 God " — that we prefer his service, yearn after his holiness, and aspire after his blessedness. And " for those that love God," there " is prepared what the eye hath not seen, nor the heart conceived of." III. In the third place, the Christian, in view of the fact that God will eventually complete the work of sanctifica- tion, ought never to he discouraged, or despair of the result. If tlie doctrine of the text be true, the believer is certain to succeed. Let him " not be weary in well-doing, for in due season he shall reap, if he faint not." That is a fine sentiment which Plutarch puts into the mouth of Coriola- nus. In a battle with the Yolscians, the Romans under Coriolanus had charged with fury, and broken the enemy's centre, and put them to a total rout. As they were start- ing upon the pursuit, they begged of their general, who was shattered and half-dead with wounds and fatigue, that he would retire to the camp. "It is not for the victor to tire of the battle," was the reply of Coriolanus, as he joined in the onward rush and sweep of his army. It is not for a believer in the Lord Jesus Christ ; it is not for one who has been sprinkled with the expiating blood, and has been born of the Holy Ghost ; to tire of the battle be- tween the flesh and the spirit. Though the conflict may con- tinue for many long years ; though very often " the spirit is willing, but the flesh is weak ;" though sometimes "the Borrows of death compass the soul, and the pangs of hell get hold of it ; " still, the victory is sure in the end. Upon such terms we can well afford to fight. Who would hesi- tate to enlist in a war, if he knew infallibly that he shoidd survive, that he should conquer, and that he should obtain everything that he fought for ? Yet such is the state of the case, with those that " love God," and are " the called according to his purpose." Every soul of man which here upon earth daily takes up the cross, is rapidly nearing that 328 SANCTIFICATION COMPLETED AT DEATH. point where it shall lay it down. Every disciple of Christ who here in time walks with him in tribulation, and temptation, is approaching that serene and sheltered spot where temptation and tribulation are absolutely unknown. One thing is as certain as the other. Does a man know that he is daily tighting the fight ; he may know infallibly, then, that one day he shall as victor cease the conflict, and lay down his armor. SERMOK XXII. WATCHFULNESS AND PKAYERFULNESS. 1 Peter iv. 7. — "Watch unto prayer." In explaining this injunction of St. Peter, we shall show the importance of a watchful and prayerful spirit, by con- sidering the innate disposition of the human heart. We shall find the argument derived from the fact that man is naturally inclined to sin ; or, in the phrase of Scripture, is '' horn in sin and conceived in iniquity ; " is of the strongest kind for obeying the command : " Watch unto prayer." The inborn disposition of any creature whatever is a fundamental and most important part of it. It lies at the centre, and is at once the fountain whence the whole ex- ternal conduct flows, and the cause of its being what it is. The innate disposition of a tiger is the source of his fierce and ravenous actions ; that of the lamb, of its gentle, harmless, and timid demeanor. The great difference in the outward behavior of these two creatures is due to the difference in the inward nature, or disposition. Man also possesses an innate disposition ; and it is the fountain whence issue all his outward acts. His every-day life ai3t