4  ■  :.4:, ' ;,:'X  ■ '^CT-  ■  •  ■  ' 
 
Jr- 
 
> 
 
 / 
 
 \ 
 
 / 
 
 J 
 
 s 
 
SERMONS 
 
 BY  THE  LATE  REVEREND 
 
 William  moodie,  d.d.  f.r.s.e. 
 
 ONE  OF  THE  MINISTERS  OF  ST  ANDREW'S  CHURCH, 
 and  professor  of  HEBREW  AND  ORIENTAL  LANGUAGES 
 IN  THE  UNIVERSITY  OF  EDINBURGH. 
 
 TO  WHICH  IS  PREFIXED 
 
 A  SHORT  ACCOUNT  OF  THE  LIFE  AND 
 CHARACTER  OF  THE  AUTHOR. 
 
 EDINBURGH: 
 
 PRINTED  FOR  THE  EDITORS 
 
 BY  C.  STEWART; 
 
 AND  TO  BE  HAD  AT  THE  SHOP  OF  JAMES  BATHGATE, 
 BOOKSELLER,  NO.  1,  COLLEGE  STREET. 
 
 1813, 
 
 f 
 
' 
 
 ■  • 
 
 ,  '’'a 
 
 '-'A'. 
 
 '^  . 
 
 .'V'iy 
 
 ki, _ 
 
 ,/'-7-,- 
 
 .* 
 
 >v 
 
 /  * 
 
 /JH'  o  Tyr. 
 .  Cs  rl 
 
 n 
 
 ■M 
 
 pW 
 
 ’  I 
 
 t*  •  — 
 
 05311?  5? ‘  I  sn'  Td 
 
 m 
 
 .a.g.ft.'i  iOEti  ,atao<>M  MATJ.Tr.r 
 
 ,Ti-»n'n{)  i't>-tii<i\i  f:  y.'!  ■■'■<1  cH'i “^rdiK 
 ,r^»Jtjo»<A4  ,jj“V|i^4;ri>vfi^i4  yaskiK:n  V' 
 
 \  •  ■•  .  I 
 
 m  -  ;ii  i-  lA*  '  • '  <  31'.^  y 
 
 V3.  ■  •> 
 
 {V/  • 
 
 '  ’  /pV  '  \ 
 
 >  * 
 
 mm  »  vt 
 
 rA'i.\A  aivt  ^0  ’\  /:.3\YxU. 
 
 .h-iwrife,  \it\rw  , 
 
 ■.■'■ .  .1 1< 
 
 ’"i 
 
 ■T-; 
 
 •n. 
 
 v  / 
 
 .:  ^  ••  V  . 
 
 V  J 
 
 •  !;  '  ■  ^  '  fTAAwaTJ-  .j 
 
 '  ?:JJ4AU  It»  aU'‘ '  3K»'  lA  <1>  H  3n  O'  ,J'  A 
 
 ' T  .  .x-M-KK  .r.on  f;ri  I .■.•^» Jf’/oa 
 
 ■  -'— *  "  •,  •  ,  ■  .,  ;-•  .-  ■• 
 
 ..uiei 
 
 ) 
 
TO  THE 
 
 CONGREGATION 
 
 OF 
 
 ST  ANDREW’S  CHURCH,  EDINBURGH, 
 
 FOR  WHOM  THEY  WERE  COMPOSED 
 
 / 
 
 TO  WHOM  THEY  WERE  DELIVERED, 
 WITH  MUCH  SINCERE  AFFECTION, 
 
 AND 
 
 AT  WHOSE  EARNEST  DESIRE 
 THEY  HAVE  BEEN  PUBLISHED, 
 
 THE  FOLLOWING 
 
 SERMONS 
 
 ARE 
 
 MOST  RESPECTFULLY 
 
 INSCRIBED 
 
'  .Huauavaaa 
 
 >  AiQ" 
 
 i:-  uQ.r, 
 
 Digitized  by  the  Internet  Archive 
 in  2018  with  funding  from 
 Princeton  Theological  Seminary  Library 
 
 https://archive.org/details/sermonsOOmood 
 
t 
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 ■  SERMON  1. 
 
 ON  THE  DUTY  OF  ATTENDING  THE  PUBLIC 
 INSTITUTIONS  OF  RELIGION. 
 
 Hebrews,  x.  25.  Not  forsaking  the  assembling 
 of  ourselves  together,  as  the  manner  vf  some 
 is,  but  exhorting  one  another ;  and  so  much 
 the  more  as  ye  see  the  day  approachingi  ...  I 
 
 SERMON  II. 
 
 ON  THE  OMNIPRESENCE  OF  GOD. 
 
 Proverbs,  xv.  3.  The  eyes  of  the  Lord  are  in 
 every  place,  beholding  the  evil  and  the  good, .  26 
 
 SERMON  III, 
 
 ON  THE  BENEVOLENCE  OF  CHRIST. 
 
 Ephesians,  hi.  19.  To  know  the  love  of  Christ 
 zvhich  passeth  knozvledge . 42 
 
 a 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 11 
 
 SERMON  IV. 
 
 ON  THE  HAPPINESS  ARISING  FROM  THE 
 HOPE  OF  IMMORTALITY. 
 
 1  CoRiNTHiANSj  XV.  Ip.  If  iu  this  life  Only  xvc 
 have  hope  in  Christ,  xve  are  of  all  men  most 
 miserable . 63 
 
 SERMON  V. 
 
 ON  THE  FEAR  OF  THE  LORD. 
 
 Proverbs,  ix.  10.  The  fear  of  the  Lord  is  the 
 beginning  of  xvisdom . 82 
 
 SERMON  VI. 
 
 ON  THE  CONFESSION  OF  THE  CENTURION. 
 
 Mark,  xv.  39-  And  xvhcn  the  centurion,  xohich 
 stood  over  against  him,  saxv  that  he  thus  cried, 
 and  gave  up  the  ghost,  he  said.  Truly  this  man 
 xvas  the  Son  of  God. . 100 
 
 SERMON  VII. 
 
 ON  THE  ASCENSION  OF  CHRIST. 
 
 Luke,  xxiv.  50,  51.  And  he  led  them  out  as 
 far  as  Bethany ;  and  he  If  ted  up  his  hands 
 and  blessed  them  ;  and  it  came  to  pass  xvhilc 
 he  blessed  them,  he  xvas  parted  from  them,  and 
 carried  up  into  heaven . 115 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 Ill 
 
 SERMON  VI IT. 
 
 ON  THE  MEANS  BY  WHICH  RELIGIOUS 
 EMOTIONS  ARE  EXCITED. 
 
 Psalms,  lxxiii,  25.  Whom  have  I  in  heaven 
 but  thee  ? — and  there  is  none  upon  earth  that 
 I  desire  besides  thee . 1 30 
 
 SERMON  IX. 
 
 ON  THE  COMMANDMENTS  OF  GOD,  CON¬ 
 SIDERED  AS  NOT  GRIEVOUS. 
 
 1  John,  v.  3.  For  this  is  the  love  of  God,  that 
 we  keep  his  commandments  ;  and  his  command¬ 
 ments  are  not  grievous . 147 
 
 SERMON  X. 
 
 ON  DEVOTION, 
 
 Psalms,  lxxiii.  28.  But  it  is  good  for  me  to 
 draw  near  unto  God . 1(35 
 
 SERMON  XI. 
 
 ON  BENEFICENCE. 
 
 Job,  XXIX.  15,  ]6.  I  xv as  eyes  to  the  blind,  ami 
 feet  was  I  to  the  lame  ;  I  was  a  father  to  the 
 poor :  and  the  cause  whiclc  I  knew  not,  I  search¬ 
 ed  Old . . . 1 8,-5 
 
 a  2 
 
iv 
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 SERMON  XII. 
 
 ON  HUMILITY. 
 
 Psalms,  cxxxviii.  6.  Though  the  Lord  be  highy 
 yet  hath  he  respect  unto  the  lowly ;  but  the 
 proudy  he  knaweth  afar  off* . .  207 
 
 SERMON  XIII. 
 
 THE  SAME  SUBJECT  CONTINUED. 
 
 SERMON  XIV. 
 
 ON  DETRACTION. 
 
 Titus,  iir.  2.  Put  men  in  mind  to  speak  eml  of 
 no  7nan.  . . . . 238 
 
 SERxMON  XV. 
 
 THE  SAME  SUBJECT  CONTINUED. 
 
 SERMON  XVI. 
 
 ON  INDUSTRY. 
 
 Romans,  xii.  11.  Be  not  slothfid  in  business.  2^4 
 
 SERMON  XVII. 
 
 THE  SAME  SUBJECT  CONTINUED. 
 
 SERMON  XVIII. 
 
 ON  THE  INSTRUCTIONS  TO  BE  DERIVED 
 FROM  RECALLING  THE  MEMORY  OF 
 OUR  FATHERS. 
 
 Zechariah,  I  5.  Your  fathers,  where  are  they? 
 and  the  prophets^  do  they  live  for  ever  ?  . .  304 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 V 
 
 SERMON  XIX. 
 
 ON  THE  DUTY  OF  RESTRAINING 
 THE  YOUNG. 
 
 Lamentations,  hi.  27f  It  is  good for  a  man 
 that  he  bear  the  yoke  in  his  youth . 333 
 
 SERMON  XX. 
 
 ON  EARLY  PIETY. 
 
 Ecclesiastes,  xii.  1.  Remember^  now,  thy  Crea¬ 
 tor  in  the  days  of  thy  youth,  while  the  evil  days 
 come  not,  nor  the  years  draw  nigh,  when  thou 
 shalt  say,  I  have  no  pleasure  in  them . 3^1 
 
 SERMON  XXL 
 
 ON  THE  CHARACTER  OF  BARZILLAI. 
 
 2  Samuel,  xix.  34.  And  Barzillai  said  unto 
 the  king,  hoxv  long  have  I  to  live,  thc^t  I  should 
 go  up  xinth  the  king  unto  Jerusalem  ?  ,  . .  .  375 
 
 SERMON  XXII. 
 
 ON  THE  ADVANTAGES  OF  AFFLICTION. 
 
 Psalms,  cxix.  7L  It  is  good for  me  that  I  have 
 been  afflicted . .  395 
 
 SERMON  XXIII. 
 
 ON  THE  GLAD  TIDINGS  OF  THE  GOSPEL. 
 
 Luke,  xi.  10,  1 1.  And  the  angel  said  unto  them, 
 Fear  not ;  for  behold  I  bring  unto  you  tid- 
 
 a  3 
 
VI 
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 iffgs  of  great  joy,  *which  shall  be  to  all  people. 
 For  unto  you  is  born  this  day,  in  the  city  of 
 David,  a  Saviour,  who  is  Christ  the  Lord.  42 1 
 
 SERMON  XXIV. 
 
 ON  OUR  SAVIOUR’S  LAST  WORDS  TO  MARY 
 
 AND  JOHN. 
 
 (The  last  Sermon  which  the  Author  preached.) 
 
 John,  xix.  26,  27.  JVlmi  Jesus  therefore  saw 
 his  mother  and  the  disciple  standing  by,  whom 
 he  loved,  he  saith  unto  his  mother.  Woman,  be¬ 
 hold  thy  S071.  Then  saith  he  to  the  disciple,  Be¬ 
 hold  thy  mother :  and  from  that  hour,  that  dis¬ 
 ciple  took  her  unto  his  own  home . 438 
 
 s 
 
 errata. 
 
 Page  15.  line  2.  for  ‘  had’  read  ‘  hath* 
 
 —  80.  -  1.  erase  ‘  beyond  the’ 
 
 —  184.  —26.  for  ‘  beeffected’  read  ‘  be  effected’ 
 
 266.  —  12.  —  ‘  officially’  read  ‘  officiously’ 
 
 2/1.  —  3.  —  «  marks’  read  ‘  mark’ 
 
 —  379.  -726.  —  f  their’  read  "  this’ 
 
A  SHORT  ACCOUNT 
 
 \ 
 
 OF  THE 
 
 LIFE  AND  CHARACTER 
 
 OF 
 
 DR  WILLIAM  MOODIE. 
 
 Dr  William  Moodie  was  the  efdest 
 son  of  the  Reverend  Roger  Moodie,  minis¬ 
 ter  of  Gartly,  in  the  presbytery  of  Strath- 
 bogie,  and  of  Margaret  Scott,  youngest 
 daughter  of  William  Scott,  Esq.  of  Bavelaw, 
 in  the  county  of  Mid-Lothian.  He  was 
 born  at  Gartly  on  the  2d  of  July  1759. 
 His  father  continued  to  discharge  his  mi¬ 
 nisterial  duties  in  that  parish,  till  the  year 
 1766,  when  the  late  Earl  of  Leven,  from 
 the  respect  which  he  had  for  his  character 
 and  talents  as  a  preacher,  presented  him  to 
 his  own  parish  church  of  Monimeal,  with¬ 
 in  the  presbytery  of  Cupar  in  Fife.  At  the 
 school  of  that  parish,  and  under  the  eye  of 
 an  affectionate  parent,  the  Author  of  the 
 following  Sermons  received  the  first  rudi- 
 a  4  ments 
 
TUI 
 
 THE  LIFE  OF 
 
 merits  of  his  education  ;  and  having  early 
 discovered  a  strong  predilection  for  the  cle¬ 
 rical  profession,  he  went  to  the  university  of 
 St  Andrews  in  the  fear  1773,  to  prosecute 
 the  studies  which  that  profession  requires. 
 There  he  soon  distinguished  himself  for 
 proficiency  in  every  branch  of  learning  to 
 which  his  attention  was  directed,  and  he 
 repeatedly  received  the  highest  tokens  of 
 approbation,  which  that  university  is  ac¬ 
 customed  to  bestow  on  the  most  deserving 
 of  h6r  pupils.  While  his  acquirements  in 
 literature  and  science,  and  the  elegance 
 which,  even  at  that  early  period,  pervaded 
 his  compositions,  attracted  the  notice  of 
 the  professors  under  whom  he  studied,  the 
 excellence  of  his  dispositions,  and  the  pro¬ 
 priety  of  his  conduct,  procured  for  him 
 their  cordial  esteem  :  and  he  had  the  hapr 
 piness  to  number  among  the  friends  of  his 
 riper  years,  some  of  the  most  valued  in¬ 
 structors  of  his  youth. 
 
 In  the  prosecution  of  his  studies,  he  kept 
 steadily  in  view  the  great  end  to  which 
 they  were  intended  to  be  subservient.  His 
 mind  was  deeply  impressed  with  the  truth 
 
 and 
 
DR  MOODIE. 
 
 lx 
 
 and  importance  of  the  Christian  religion  } 
 he  felt  its  salutary  influence  on  his  own 
 heart ;  he  assumed  its  precepts  as  the  guides 
 of  his  conduct ;  and  it  was  the  chief  ob¬ 
 ject  of  his  ambition,  to  qualify  himself  for 
 successfully  unfolding  to  others,  those  trea¬ 
 sures  of  wisdom  and  consolation,  which  the 
 sacred  scriptures  contain, 
 
 In  the  year  1775,  his  affectionate  heart 
 was  deeply  afflicted  by  the  death  of  a  father 
 whom  he  revered.  By  that  melancholy 
 event,  he  was  left,  at  the  early  age  of  six¬ 
 teen,  to  be  the  protector  of  his  father’s 
 family  ;  and  never  were  the  duties  of  a  son 
 and  a  brother  discharged  with  more  ten¬ 
 derness  and  fidelity.  He  now  removed  to 
 Edinburgh,  where  he  finished  his  course  of 
 theological  study  with  distinguished  approba¬ 
 tion;  and,  in  1781,  he  was  licensed  to  preach 
 the  gospel.  His  appearances  in  the  pulpit 
 did  not  disappoint  the  expectations  of  those 
 who  were  intimately  acquainted  with  his 
 talents  and  character.  Carefully  avoiding 
 those  intricate  discussions,  which  tend  rath¬ 
 er  to  perplex  than  to  enlighten  the  mind, 
 he  was  guided  in  his  selection  of  subjects 
 
 for 
 
X 
 
 THE  LIFE  OF 
 
 for  discourse,  "by  their  general  importance 
 and  utility  ;  and  he  conveyed  his  instruc¬ 
 tions  in  a  manner  that  was  adapted  to 
 hearers  of  every  rank.  The  striking  light 
 in  which  he  exhibited  the  evidence  for  the 
 truth  of  the  gospel ;  the  clearness  with 
 which  he  explained  its  doctrines  and  its 
 precepts  ;  the  tenderness  with  which  he  ap¬ 
 plied  its  consolations  to  sooth  the  afflicted ; 
 the  solemnity  with  which  he  warned  the 
 impenitent  of  the  consequences  of  their 
 guilt,  and  the  earnestness  with  which  he 
 exhorted  the  righteous  to  persevere  in  the 
 paths  of  holiness,  roused  the  attention,  and 
 interested  the  hearts  of  all  whom  he  ad¬ 
 dressed. 
 
 In  the  year  1783,  he  obtained  a  presen¬ 
 tation  to  the  church  of  Kircaldy,  by  the 
 influence  of  Mr  Oswald  of  Dunikeir  (to 
 whose  sons  he  was  then  tutor),  aided  by  the 
 exertions  of  several  other  respectable  inha¬ 
 bitants  of  that  parish,  who  were  extremely 
 desirous  that  he  should  be  appointed  their 
 minister.  Owing  to  the  divided  state  of 
 the  parish,  and  to  various  circumstances 
 altogether  unconnected  with  the  character 
 
 of 
 
DR  MOODIE. 
 
 xt 
 
 of  the  presentee,  his  settlement  was  violent¬ 
 ly  opposed.  But  though  this  unreason¬ 
 able  opposition  subjected  him  to  much  in¬ 
 convenience  and  trouble,  it  did  not  excite 
 in  his  breast  the  smallest  resentment.  He 
 possessed,  in  an  eminent  degree,  that  gene¬ 
 rous  and  forgiving  temper  which  adorned 
 the  character  of  his  divine  master.  To 
 preserve  peace  and  harmony  among  men, 
 was  the  joy  of  his  life  ;  and  such  was  the 
 meekness,  the  benevolence,  and  the  inte¬ 
 grity  of  his  whole  deportment,  that  even 
 the  most  violent  of  his  opponents  soon  be¬ 
 came  warmly  attached  to  him  ;  and  there 
 is  every  reason  to  believe,  that  the  deep  re¬ 
 gret  which  they  expressed  at  the  prospect 
 of  his  removal  from  them,  proceeded  from 
 a  just  sense  of  his  value,  and  of  the  distin¬ 
 guished  usefulness  of  his  labours. 
 
 In  the  sermon  with  which  he  closed  his 
 ministry  at  Kircaldy,  he  alluded  to  the  cir¬ 
 cumstances  which  had  attended  his  intro¬ 
 duction  into  the  parish ;  and  the  manner  in 
 which  he  expressed  himself,  while  it  ex¬ 
 hibits  a  faithful  picture  of  the  state  of  his 
 own  mind,  must  have  been  peculiarly  gra¬ 
 tifying 
 
THE  LIFE  OF 
 
 :£li 
 
 tifying  to  tjiose  whom  he  addressed.  To¬ 
 wards  the  conclusion  of  his  discourse,  he 
 spoke  in  the  following  terms  :  “You  are 
 entitled,  my  brethren,  to  my  warmest 
 “  wishes  in  your  behalf  j  for  I  have  uni- 
 “  formly  received  from  you  every  mark* 
 “  of  kindness  and  favour.  To  you,  in  par- 
 “  ticular,  by  whose  means  1  was  introduced 
 “  into  this  congregation,  to  you  1  lie  under 
 “  the  strongest  obligations.  The  generous 
 manner  in  which  you  honoured  me  with 
 “  your  support,  when  I  neither  solicited  it, 
 “  nor  had  any  title  to  expect  it,  merits 
 “  from  me  the  warmest  gratitude.  Your 
 “  exertions  in  my  behalf  flowed,  I  am  con- 
 “  fident,  from  the  purest  motives.  You 
 “  had  received  nothing  at  my  hand,  and 
 “  you  had  nothing  to  hope  for.  You  ac- 
 “  ted  from  an  opinion  of  my  character, 
 “  which  I  am  sorry  I  did  not  better  de- 
 “  serve,  ^nd  from  a  real  regard  to  the  in- 
 “  terests  of  the  people  who  were  to  be 
 “  committed  to  my  care.  I  beheld,  with 
 “  regret,  the  reproach  and  the  trouble  to 
 “  which  you  were  subjected  on  my  ac- 
 “  count :  But  I  comforted  myself  with  the 
 hope,  that  when  these  troubles  were  past, 
 
DR  MOODIE. 
 
 ^iil 
 
 1  should  be  enabled,  by  the  faithful  dis- 
 “  charge  of  my  duty,  to  justify  your  con- 
 “  duct  in  the  eyes  of  your  brethren.  To 
 “  accomplish  this,  has  been  my  constant 
 “  aim  ;  how  far  I  have  succeeded,  it  be- 
 “  longs  not  to  me  to  say.  But  it  is  no 
 “  small  consolation  to  me,  that,  in  a  con- 
 ‘‘  gregation  so  numerous  and  so  divided 
 “  as  this,  my  ministrations  have  been  at- 
 “  tended  so  regularly  by  men  of  every 
 “  rank ;  and  that  I  have  never  found  my- 
 “  self  deserted  by  any  whose  displeasure . 
 “  I  accounted  it  a  reproach  to  incur,  or 
 “  whose  approbation  I  would  have  esteem- 
 ed  it  an  honour  to  obtain.  It  is  no 
 small  consolation  to  me,  that  I  have 
 ‘‘  continued  to  enjoy  the  favour  of  those, 
 to  whose  kindness  I  was  indebted  for 
 my  present  situation  ;  and  now  that  I 
 “  am  called  to  labour  in  another  scene,  it 
 is  not  without  regret,  that  I  leave  a  so- 
 “  ciety  in  which  I  have  lived  so  happily, 
 “  and  a  charge  in  which,’  I  trust,  my  la- 
 ‘‘  hours  have  not  been  fruitless.  But  as  my 
 views  in  removing  from  my  station  a- 
 “  mong  you,  are  such  as  satisfy  my  own 
 
 “  mind. 
 
THE  LIFE  OF 
 
 XIV 
 
 “  mind,  so  1  flatter  myself,  that  it  will  give 
 pleasure  to  you  (whom  I  have  every  rea- 
 son.  to  consider  as  my  friends),  if,  thereby, 
 ‘‘  my  usefulness  or  my  comfort  shall  be  im- 
 “  proved. 
 
 Be  assured,  my  brethren,  that  I  shall 
 “  retain  an  indelible  sense  of  your  kind- 
 “  ness,  and  that  I  shall  esteem  the  continu- 
 “  ance  of  your  friendship  and  favour,  an 
 “  ornament  and  a  consolation  in  every  pe- 
 “  riod  of  my  life. 
 
 u 
 
 6i 
 
 ti 
 
 a 
 
 n 
 
 <( 
 
 a 
 
 C( 
 
 As  for  you,  my  brethren,  who  opposed 
 my  introduction  into  this  congregation, 
 I  am  far  from  wishing  to  load  you  with 
 reproach.  Notwithstanding  the  unfa¬ 
 vourable  circumstances  which  attended 
 the  commencement  of  my  ministry,  I 
 have  lived  with  you  on  terms  of  the  most 
 perfect  harmony,  and  have  every  reason 
 to  believe  that  I  enjoy  your  favour.  I 
 will  not  therefore  embitter  the  little  time 
 that  remains,  by  recalling  any  thing  that 
 might  ruffle  your  minds.  ,  It  belongs  not 
 to  me  to  judge  your  conduct,  or  to  as¬ 
 cribe  it  to  any  other  motives,  than  those 
 
 “  which 
 
DR  MOODIE. 
 
 XV 
 
 \ 
 
 which  you  yourselves  professed.  You 
 “  are  not  accountable  to  me,  but  to  your 
 own  consciences,  and  to  that  God  who 
 “  searcheth  the  hearts.  If  you  intended 
 “  evil  against  me,  may  God  forgive  you. 
 But  your  conduct,  since  the  time  in. 
 which  I  began  to  labour  among  you, 
 forbids  me  to  entertain  so  harsh  a  suspi- 
 “  cion.  It  is  but  justice  to  say,  that  you 
 “  have  all  been  regular  in  attending  my 
 “  public  ministrations,  and  that,  from  many 
 “  of  you,  I  have  received  in  private,  the 
 ‘‘  most  obliging  expressions  of  attachment 
 “  and  favour,  to  efface  from  my  mind,  the 
 memory  of  a  struggle  in  which  you  de- 
 ‘‘  dared,  that  you  meant  no  injury  to  me. 
 ‘‘  In  return,  you  will  do  me  the  justice  to 
 “  acknowledge,  that  I  have  never,  in  any 
 “  part  of  my  conduct,  resented  the  trouble 
 “  to  which,  by  your  means,  I  was  subject- 
 “  ed,  nor  shown  myself  averse  to  perform 
 “  any  friendly  offices,  by  which  I  could 
 “  hope  to  attach  you  to  myself  and  my 
 ministry.  And  now  that  my  relation  to 
 “  you  is  about  to  be  dissolved,  it  is  a  con- 
 “  solation  to  think,  that  as  I  ^m  conscious 
 of  wishing  well  to  every  person  among 
 
 “  you. 
 
THE  LIFE  OF 
 
 r 
 
 xyi 
 
 “  you,  so  there  is  not  one  in  this  numerous 
 “  assembly,  whom  I  have  reason  to  suspect 
 “  of  enmity  towards  me.  This  circum- 
 “  stance,  my  brethren,  while  it  redounds 
 “  to' your  praise,  is  some  evidence  to  me, 
 “  that  I  have  discharged  my  duty  ;  aud  I 
 “  rejoice  to  rest  in  it  as  a  delightful  as- 
 “  surance,  that  I  have  not  run  in  vain,  nor 
 ‘‘  laboured  in  vain. 
 
 I  am  now,  my  brethren,  to  address  you 
 “  no  more  in  the  character  of  your  pastor; 
 
 But  my  most  affectionate  wishes  shall 
 “  continue  to  attend  you.  I  shall  ever 
 “  think  with  pleasure,  of  the  place  where  I  - 
 “  first  had  an  opportunity  of  exercising  my 
 “  talents,  in  an  office  to  which  I  have  been 
 “  attached  from  my  earliest  years.  I  shall 
 “  ever  rejoice  to  hear  of  your  growing 
 “  prosperity  and  virtue ;  and  believe  me, 
 
 “  it  is  my  sincere  and  earnest  wfsh,  that 
 “  the  station  which  I  leave  may  be  so  sup- 
 “  plied,  that  you  may  never  have  cause  to 
 “  regret  my  departure. 
 
 “  May  I  not  hope,  in  return,  for  the 
 continuance  of  your  favour  ?  Yes  ;  if, 
 
 “  there 
 
DR  MOO  DIE. 
 
 X7li 
 
 “  there  are  any  poor  in  this  assembly  to 
 ‘‘  whose  necessities  we  have  attended ;  if 
 “  there  are  any  sorrowful,  whose  hearts 
 “  our  ministrations  have  comforted  ;  if 
 “  there  are  any  wanderers  who  have  been 
 “  reclaimed  from  the  path  of  ruin,  or  any 
 “  saints  who  have  been  established  in  faith 
 “  and  in  holiness ;  if  there  are  any  young 
 “  who  have  been  guided  in  the  ways  of 
 “  innocence,  or  any  aged  who  have  been 
 “  cheered  with  the  hope  of  immortality  ; 
 
 may  we  not  trust,  that  you  will  remem- 
 “  ber  our  work  and  our  labour  of  love  ; 
 “  that  when  you  shall  hear  no  more  our 
 “  voice  in  your  assembly,  you  will  some- 
 “  times  think  of  the  days  that  are  past,  and 
 “  and  that  when  your  prayers  ascend  to 
 “  the  giver  of  good,  you  will  still  continue 
 “  to  number  us  with  your  friends  ?  May 
 “  we  not  trust,  that  from  the  scene  of  our 
 “  early  labours,  a  supplication  will  some- 
 “  times  arise  in  our  behalf,  and  a  blessing 
 “  descend,  at  your  request,  to  sweeten  the 
 “  labours  which  we  may  yet  be  called  to 
 “  endure  ?  May  we  not  trust,  that  when 
 “  the  day  of  the  redeemed  shall  come, 
 “  there  will  be  some  of  you  whom  w^e  now 
 
 h  “  address, 
 
xtiii 
 
 THE  LIFE  OF 
 
 “  address,  to  mingle  with  the  just  around 
 ‘‘  the  throne  of  God  ;  and  to  adore  the 
 “  mercy  and  the  grace  of  heaven,  which, 
 ‘‘  blessing  to  you  our  feeble  services,  have 
 “  led  you,  by  them,  to  those  paths  of  holi- 
 “  ness,  in  which  you  have  arrived  at  the 
 “  house  of  your  father  ?  Yes  t  with  this 
 “  glorious  prospect,  we  will  solace  our 
 “  souls.  In  this  we  rejoice  ;  yea^  and  will 
 “  rejoice.  For  what  is  our  hope  ?  what  is 
 “  our  joy.,  and  our  croivn  of  rejoicing  ^ 
 
 Are  not  even  yCy  Christians.,  our  hope  ? 
 
 now  we  live,  if  ye  stand  fast  in  the 
 “  Lord:' 
 
 In  October  1787,  he  was  admitted  to  the 
 charge  of  St.  Andrew’s  church,  in  the  city 
 of  Edinburgh.  This  station,  one  of  the 
 most  important  which  a  minister  of  the 
 Church  of  Scotland  can  be  called  to  fill, 
 was  peculiarly  suited  to  his  inclination  and 
 his  talents  j  and  the  fidelity  and  success  with 
 which  he  discharged  its  various  duties,  will 
 long  be  remembered  by  those  who  listen¬ 
 ed  to  his  public  instructions,  or  experi¬ 
 enced,  in  private,  the  goodness  of  his  heart. 
 
 Warmly 
 
BR  MOODTE. 
 
 six 
 
 Warmly  attached  to  his  congregation,  he 
 took  a  lively  interest  in  every  thing  that 
 concerned  them  ;  and  while  he  laboured, 
 with  the  most  anxious  solicitude,  to  es¬ 
 tablish  their  faith  in  the  gospel,  and  to  ani¬ 
 mate  theni  in  their  Christian  course,  he 
 omitted  no  opportunity  of  testifying  how 
 sincerely  he  rejoiced  in  their  prosperity, 
 and  how  tenderly  he  sympathized  with 
 them  in  seasons  of  distress. 
 
 In  a  parish  which  includes  the  whole 
 new  town  of  Edinburgh,  and  in  which  he 
 had  not  the  aid  of  a  colleague  till  the  year 
 1801,  his  clerical  duties  necessarily  occupied 
 a  very  large  portion  of  his  time.  Yet  a- 
 midst  these  laborious  duties,  which  he  al¬ 
 ways  considered  as  of  the  first  importance, 
 and  with  which  he  suffered  no  other  con¬ 
 cerns  to  interfere,  he  prosecuted  success¬ 
 fully  various  branches  of  literature  and 
 science. 
 
 To  the  study  of  the  Eastern  languages 
 he  devoted  his  particular  attention ;  and 
 such  was  his  eminence  in  that  department, 
 that  in  September  1793,  the  Magistrates 
 
 h  2  and 
 
XX 
 
 THE  LIFE  OF 
 
 and  Town  Council  unanimously  ^appointed 
 him  Professor  of  Hebrew  and  Oriental 
 languages,  in  the  university  of  Edinburgh. 
 This  appointment  opened  to  him  a  new 
 field  of  usefulness,  in  which  he  laboured 
 with  distinguished  success.  By  the  mode  of 
 teaching  which  he  adopted,  he  greatly  fa¬ 
 cilitated  to  his  pupils,  the  acquisition  of 
 the  Hebrew  language  ;  and  by  divesting  it 
 of  every  useless  encumbrance,  he  exhibited 
 it  to  their  view  in  all  its  native  simplicity 
 and  beauty.  Aware  that  the  mere  know¬ 
 ledge  of  words  is  but  a  pitiful  attainment, 
 he  taught  his  students  to  view  the  struc¬ 
 ture  of  language  with  a  philosophical  eye  ; 
 to  analyze  the  operations  of  the  mind  in 
 its  various  expressions  of  thought ;  to  in¬ 
 vestigate  the  manner  in  which  it  forms  its 
 conceptions,  from  the  means  which  it  em¬ 
 ploys  to  convey  them  ;  and  thus  to  trace 
 back  the  stream  of  language  to  the  foun¬ 
 tain  from  which  it  flows.  In  teaching  the 
 principles  of  the  Hebrew  language,  he  a- 
 dapted  his  instructions  to  the  views  of 
 those  who  had  made  advancement  in  the 
 study  of  universal  grammar  ;  and  by  com¬ 
 paring  the  forms  of  expression  in  Hebrew, 
 
 with 
 
DR  MOODIE. 
 
 XXi 
 
 with  those  that  occur  in  other  languages, 
 he  endeavoured  to  make  the  business  of  his 
 class  an  exercise  of  judgment,  rather  than 
 of  memory. 
 
 The  prelections  which  he  delivered,  were 
 remarkable  for  the  learning,  genius,  and 
 taste,  which  they  displayed.  By  the  union 
 of  these  qualities,  with  manners  peculiarly 
 amiable,  he  gave  a  charm  to  studies  which 
 have  sometimes  been  treated  with  unmerit¬ 
 ed  contempt ;  and  excited  among  his  pu¬ 
 pils,  an  ardour  in  the  pursuit  of  oriental 
 literature,  which  cannot  fail  to  redound  to 
 the  honour  of  our  national  Church.  No 
 person,  indeed,  could  be  better  qualified,  in 
 every  respect,  for  conducting  the  education 
 of  those,  whose  object  is  to  prepare  them¬ 
 selves  for  becoming  useful  ministers  of  the 
 gospel.  While  his  private  instructions 
 tended  to  rouse  in  them  a  generous  ambi¬ 
 tion  to  excel  in  every  clerical  accomplish¬ 
 ment,  his  public  discourses  and  conduct, 
 afforded  them  ah  excellent  model,  which 
 they  might  safely  follow.  To  those  whom 
 he  found  to  be  deserving,  he  was  a  steady 
 and  an  active  friend  :  and  his  kind  exer¬ 
 tions, 
 
THE  LIFE  OF 
 
 xxii 
 
 tions  in  their  behalf  he  thought  amply  re-? 
 paid,  by  the  confidence  which  they  reposed 
 in  him,  and  by  the  pleasure  which  he  felt 
 when  his  exertions  were  attended  with 
 success. 
 
 With  several  oriental  languages  besides 
 the  Hebrew,  he  was  intimately  acquainted  j 
 but  the  Persian  possessed  such  powerful  at¬ 
 tractions,  as  led  him  to  study  it  with  pecu¬ 
 liar  care.  In  prosecuting  that  favourite 
 study,  he  was  much  indebted  to  the  aid 
 which  he  received  from  some  gentlemen, 
 who  had  resided  long  in  India,  and  whose 
 acquirements  in  Persian  literature,  had 
 raised  them  to  stations  of  eminence  and 
 trust.  By  their  friendly  assistance,  and  by 
 availing  himself  of  daily  intercourse  with  a 
 learned  native  of  India,  who  happened  to 
 reside  in  Edinburgh  for  a  considerable 
 period,  he  acquired  such  a  thorough  know¬ 
 ledge  of  the  niceties  of  the  Persian  language 
 and  pronundation,  that  he  both  wrote  and 
 conversed  in  that  celebrated  tongue,  with 
 astonishing  ease  and  accuracy.  From  some 
 of  his  pupils,  who  have  attained  distin¬ 
 guished  literary  honours  in  India,  he  re¬ 
 ceived 
 
DR  MOODIE. 
 
 xxli 
 
 ceived  the  most  gratifying  assurances  of  the 
 benefit  which  they  had  derived  from  his 
 instructions :  and  the  extensive  correspon¬ 
 dence  which  he  carried  on  with  eminent 
 oriental  scholars,  in  different  parts  of  the 
 world,  affords  the  most  satisfactory  evi¬ 
 dence  of  his  high  attainments  in  eastern 
 literature. 
 
 Nor  did  he  think  it  consistent  with  his 
 duty  as  a  public  teacher,  to  keep  his  know¬ 
 ledge  as  a  secret,  of  which  he  alone  might 
 reap  the  benefit.  He  was  happy  when  he 
 found  some  of  his  Hebrew  students,  who 
 were  desirous  of  being  instructed  in  the 
 Persian  language  :  and  the  manner  in 
 which  he  announced  to  them  his  intention 
 of  opening  a  separate  class  for  their  instruc¬ 
 tion,  shows  the  liberality  of  his  mind,  and 
 his  earnest  desire  to  provide  for  the  public, 
 a  succession  of  well  qualified  teachers. 
 
 The  Persian  language  (said  he),  has 
 many  attractions.  It  contains  an  im- 
 “  mense  variety  of  books  in  history,  in 
 morals,  and  in  the  various  departments 
 of  literature  and  science,  written  at  a 
 
 time? 
 
sxiv 
 
 THE  LIFE  OF 
 
 “  time,  when  the  whole  of  Europe  was  in- 
 “  volved  in  midnight  darkness,  and  when 
 “  literature,  buried  in  the  west  under  the 
 “  grossest  superstition,  found  in  the  east, 
 that  protection  and  encouragement,  with- 
 out  which,  it  cannot  be  expected  to  flour- 
 “  ish.  The  Persian  poetry,  has  a  charm 
 “  peculiar  to  itself.  A  knowledge  of  the 
 “  grammar  of  that  language,  will  extend 
 “  your  views  of  universal  grammar  ;  and 
 besides  other  advantages  which  may  be 
 ‘‘  derived  from  the  study  of  the  Persian,  it 
 “  has  now  become  an  object  of  considera- 
 “  ble  national  importance.  Our  extensive 
 “  possessions  in  India,  connect  us  with  a 
 “  variety  of  powers,  with  whom  all  corres- 
 ‘‘  pondences  and  all  transactions,  must  be 
 “  conducted  in  the  Persian  language.  Of 
 course  it  becomes  an  object  of  great  con- 
 sequence  to  young  gentlemen,  who  are 
 destined  for  the  East  Indies,  to  acquire  a 
 “  knowledge  of  it.  In  this  they  are  most 
 “  likely  to  be  successful,  if  they  begin  by 
 “  studying  it  at  home,  under  the  inspection 
 of  one  who  is  capable  of  instructing  them 
 in  their  own  vernacular  tongue,  and  who 
 can  explain  the  peculiarities  of  the  Per- 
 
 “  sian 
 
 / 
 
DR  MOODIE. 
 
 XXV 
 
 sian  language,  by  referring  to  similar 
 ‘‘  idioms  in  other  languages,  with  which 
 they  are  acquainted,  Accordingly,  I 
 “  have  found  by  experience,  that  there  are 
 “  frequently  dernands  on  me  for  this  spe- 
 “  cies  of  instruction,  at  times,  when,  from 
 “  other  avocations,  I  have  not  leisure  to 
 “  comply  with  them.  It  will  be  an  ac- 
 commodation  to  the  public,  it  may  be 
 “  beneficial  to  you,  and  to  me  it  will  afford 
 “  the  sincerest  satisfaction,  if  I  can  find  a 
 ‘‘  few  pupils  of  my  own,  whom  I  can  oc- 
 ^  casionaliy  recommend,  to  share  with  me 
 ‘‘  in  the  labour  and  the  profit  arising  from 
 “  this  branch  of  teaching.” 
 
 While  he  thus  discharged,  with  great  a- 
 bility  and  success,  the  duties  which  he 
 owed  to  his  pupils  and  his  congregation, 
 he  was  not  inattentive  to  the  general  inter¬ 
 ests  of  the  Church  to  which  he  belonged, 
 and  to  which  he  was  warmly  attached. 
 When  he  mingled  in  debate,  he  never  fail¬ 
 ed  to  display  that  gentleness,  candour,  and 
 forbearance,  which  are  so  becoming  in 
 a  clerical  assembly ;  and  he  uniformly 
 gave  his  decided  support  to  those  mea¬ 
 sures, 
 
XXVI 
 
 THE  LIFE  OF 
 
 sures,  which,  after  mature  deliberation,  he 
 thought  conducive  to  the  respectability 
 of  our  ecclesiastical  establishment,  to  the 
 maintenance  of  public  order,  and  to  the 
 advancement  of  true  religion.  So  highly 
 was  he  esteemed  by  the  members  of  our 
 national  Church,  that  in  1799,  they  confer¬ 
 red  on  him  the  greatest  honour  which  they 
 can  bestow,  by  electing  him  Moderator  of 
 the  General  Assembly,  an  honour  to  which 
 few  have  been  raised  at  so  early  a  period 
 of  life. 
 
 With  these  valuable  endowments  of 
 mind  which  Dr  Moodie  possessed,  it  pleas¬ 
 ed  God  to  unite  a  bodily  constitution,  that 
 was  far  from  being  robust.  From  his  ear¬ 
 liest  years,  he  was  subject  to  complaints  in 
 the  stomach,  which  his  studious  habits  and 
 intense  application,  tended  to  confirm. 
 During  the  most  laborious  periods  of  his 
 life,  he  enjoyed  few  intervals  of  relief  from 
 the  distress  which  these  complaints  occa¬ 
 sioned  ;  but  even  when  exposed  to  their 
 severest  attacks,  and  in  those  seasons  of  still 
 deeper  affliction  to  his  feeling  heart,  when 
 he  was  bereft  of  children  whom  he  tender- 
 
DR.  MOODIE*  xxvii 
 
 ly  loved,  and  of  the  amiable  and  accom¬ 
 plished  partner  of  his  domestic  cares,  he 
 displayed  the  most  devout  submission  to 
 the  will  of  heaven. 
 
 In  the  beginning  of  summer  1805,  he 
 was  seized  with  a  violent  illness,  which,  for 
 a  while,  seemed  to  preclude  all  hope  of 
 his  recovery.  The  anxious  and  general  so¬ 
 licitude  which  was  expressed  on  that  occa¬ 
 sion,  afforded  a  decisive  and  gratifying  proof 
 of  the  high  estimation  in  which  he  was 
 held,  and  of  the  value  which  the  public  at¬ 
 tached  to  his  labours.  Though  his  distem¬ 
 per  did  not  prove  fatal,  it  so  enfeebled  his 
 constitution,  that,  for  a  considerable  period, 
 he  was  unable  to  address  his  congregation 
 from  the  pulpit.  In  spring  1810,  he  was 
 again  obliged  to  discontinue  the  perfor¬ 
 mance  of  a  duty,  which  always  afforded 
 him  the  greatest  delight.  That  he  might 
 still  be  of  some  use  to  those,  whose  spiritual 
 interests  he  felt  the  most  ardent  desire  to 
 promote,  he  began  to  revise  some  of  his 
 sermons,  with  a  view  to  their  publication. 
 He  had  not,  however,  proceeded  far  in  that 
 work,  when  his  strength  was  so  much  re¬ 
 cruited 
 
xsviii 
 
 THE  LIFE  OF 
 
 cruited  by  an  excursion  to  the  country, 
 that,  in  the  beginning  of  winter,  he  was 
 able  to  discharge  all  his  public  duties. 
 From  that  period,  his  health  visibly  im-^ 
 proved,  and  his  friends  were  led  to  hope, 
 that  he  had  entirely  recovered  from  the 
 effects  of  his  disorder.  But  in  the  end  of 
 May  1812,  it  returned  with  all  its  former 
 violence,  and  on  the  eleventh  of  June,  he 
 gently  expired. 
 
 To  him  whose  life  had  been  one  uniform 
 course  of  piety  and  virtue,  death  could  be 
 only  a  messenger  of  peace.  But  by  those 
 to  whose  instructions  his  life  had  been  de¬ 
 voted  ;  by  his  friends,  whose  society  his 
 presence  had  sweetened ;  and  by  his  family 
 bereft  of  his  affection  and  care ;  his  depar¬ 
 ture  was  regarded  as  a  calamity,  which 
 could  not  be  too"deeply  bewailed.  He  was 
 a  pastor  who  preached,  because  he  believed, 
 and  whose  precepts  were  illustrated  by  his 
 conduct.  His  belief  in  the  gospel,  was  a 
 rational  principle.  He  had  applied  all  the 
 force  of  a  vigorous  mind,  enlightened  by 
 science,  to  investigate  the  evidences  of  the 
 Christian  religion  ;  and  the  result  was,  a 
 
 settled 
 
DR  MOODIE. 
 
 settled  conviction  of  its  truth.  He  respect¬ 
 ed  the  office  with  which  he  was  invested, 
 as  a  teacher  of  Christianity,  as  the  most  in¬ 
 teresting  trust  that  can  be  committed  to 
 man.  In  human  literature  he  was  deeply 
 conversant,  but  the  study  of  the  sacred 
 scriptures  was  his  favourite  occupation,  to 
 which  all  his  other  studies  were  constrained 
 to  bend.  It  was  this  which  qualified  him 
 so  eminently  for  the  station  which  he  held, 
 and  prepared  him  on  every  occasion,  to 
 render  a  satisfying  reason  of  his  faith. 
 This  faith  was  too  firmly  established  in  his 
 mind,  to  yield  to  the  influence  of  any 
 earthly  temptations.  He  was  superior  to 
 the  meanness  of  courting  applause  ;  nor 
 could  the  fear  of  reproach  deter  him  from 
 the  practice  of  what  his  conscience  ap- 
 
 In  his  public  discourses,  he  displayed  an 
 extent  of  information,  a  soundness  of  judg¬ 
 ment,  a  delicacy  of  sentiment,  and  an  ele¬ 
 gance  of  taste,  which,  accompanied  with  a 
 delivery  peculiarly  tender  and  impressive, 
 arrested  the  attention,  and  interested  the 
 feelings  of  all  whom  he  addressed.  They 
 
 who 
 
XXX 
 
 THE  LIFE  OF 
 
 who  regularly  attended  his  ministration 
 will  recollect  with  what  persuasive  powers 
 of  expression,  he  was  wont  to  speak  in  the 
 house  of  God  ;  how,  by  turns,  he  con¬ 
 vinced  their  understandings,  and  roused 
 their  affections,  and  melted  their  hearts  ; 
 and  with  what  admirable  skill  he  directed 
 all  his  efforts  to  promote  their  advance¬ 
 ment  in  piety  and  holiness.  They  will  re¬ 
 collect  with  what  rich  variety  of  illustra¬ 
 tion  he  set  before  them  the  evidences  of 
 that  religion  which  they  profess ;  what 
 sublime  conceptions  he  entertained  of  the 
 divine  perfections,  as  exhibited  in  the  works 
 of  creation  and  redemption  ;  in  what  glow¬ 
 ing  colours  he  displayed  them  to  their 
 view,  and  with  what  ardour  he  laboured  to 
 infuse  into  their  breasts,  those  pious  emo^ 
 tions  wliich  filled  his  own. 
 
 His  piety  was  sincere,  and  ardent,  and 
 unaffected,  free  from  every  mixture  of  mo¬ 
 roseness  and  austerity.  He  left  it  to  others 
 to  seek  the  reputation  of  extraordinary 
 sanctity,  by  withdrawing  themselves  from 
 the  intercourse  of  human  life.  When  his 
 health  permitted  him,  he  mingled  in  socie¬ 
 ty. 
 
DR  MOODIE. 
 
 ±xxi 
 
 ty,  because  he  loved  his  brethren.  He  saw 
 in  the  world,  the  sphere  of  his  duty,  and 
 like  the  master  whom  he  served,  he  lived 
 in  the  world  without  sharing  in  its  vices. 
 They  who  had  the  happiness  of  knowing 
 him  intimately,  will  remember  that  inflexi¬ 
 ble  integrity,  that  high  sense  of  character, 
 that  virtuous  abhorrence  of  all  that  is  base 
 or  dishonourable,  which  raised  him  above 
 the  little  vanities  and  interests  of  the  world. 
 They  will  remember  that  amiable  simplici¬ 
 ty  of  manners,  that  sweetness  of  temper, 
 that  forbearance  with  those  who  differed 
 from  him  in  opinion,  that  benevolence  of 
 disposition,  which  engaged  him  often  in 
 labours  beyond  his  strength,  that  innocent 
 cheerfulness  which  rendered  his  society  so 
 delightful,  and  that  tender  sympathy,  which 
 led  him  to  participate  so  cordially  in  the 
 joys  and  the  sorrows  of  those  whom  he 
 loved.  But  the  value  of  his  character  can 
 be  estimated  aright,  only  by  those,  who 
 have  experienced  the  warmth  of  his  friend¬ 
 ship,  and  who  have  seen  him  in  the  fami¬ 
 liar  intercourse  of  domestic  life,  with  the 
 partner  of  all  his  cares,  and  in  the  midst  of 
 his  children,  to  whom  he  was  at  once,  a 
 '  companion 
 
xxxii 
 
 THE  LIFE  OF 
 
 companion  and  a  father.  His  whole  con¬ 
 duct  was  an  attractive  example  of  piety,  and 
 candour,  and  gentleness,  and  love.  The 
 precepts  which  he  inculcated  on  others, 
 were  the  guides  of  his  life.  The  hopes 
 which  he  unfolded  to  others,  were  his  own 
 consolation  in  sickness  and  in  death  ;  and 
 we  trust  they  are  now  realized  to  him  in 
 that  state  of  immortality,  after  which  he 
 taught  others  to  aspire. 
 
 On  the  first  Sunday  after  the  interment 
 of  Dr  Moodie,  the  Reverend  Mr  David 
 Ritchie,  Professor  of  Logic  in  the  University 
 of  Edinburgh,  who  had  been  intimately 
 acquainted  with  him  from  his  youth,  and 
 who  had  been  his  colleague  in  St  Andrew’s 
 church,  for  more  than  eleven  years,  paid  a 
 willing  tribute  to  the  memory  of  his  de¬ 
 parted  friend  ;  and  he  has  kindly  consented 
 that  it  shall  accompany  the  sermons,  which 
 are  now  offered  to  the  public. 
 
 He  chose  for  his  text,  that  declaration  of 
 Job,  (VII,  16.)  I  imuld  not  live  alway ; 
 and  after  an  excellent  sermon,  in  which  he 
 
 illustrated 
 
DR  MOODIE. 
 
 xxxlii 
 
 illustrated  sortie  of  the  reasons  which  should 
 prevent  men  from  being  anxious  for  very 
 long  life,  he  proceeded  as  follows  ; 
 
 “  You  will  have  anticipated  the  applica^ 
 “  tion  of  these  observations  to  the  circuni'- 
 “  stances  in  which  we  are  now  placed.  It 
 “  has  pleased  Almighty  God  to  remove 
 “  from  the  duties  and  sufferings  of  this 
 “  transitory  world,  a  pastor  who,  during 
 “  many  of  the  best  years  of  his  life,  devo- 
 “  ted  his  chief  exertions  to  -  the  spiritual 
 “  edification  of  this  congregation,  and  to 
 “  whose  accents  we  have  been  accustomed 
 “  to  listen  with  delight  and  instruction, 
 “  while  he  admonished  us  of  the  conduct 
 
 which  becomes  the  heirs  of  immortality. 
 
 I  have  no  fear  that  the  imperfect  sketch 
 “  which  I  mean  to  offer  of  his  character 
 “  should  appear,  to  those  acquainted  with 
 “  him,  to  be  drawn  by  the  hand  of  par- 
 “  tiality.  In  this  place,  unmerited  pane- 
 ‘‘  gyric  would  be  unbecoming,  and  on  this 
 ‘‘  subject,  it  is  unnecessary.  But  speaking 
 ‘‘  to  you,  my  friends,  of  the  pastor  whom 
 ‘‘  you  so  highly  esteemed,  I  trust  I  shall 
 
 c  “  not 
 
ixx'iT 
 
 THE  LIFE  OF 
 
 ‘‘  not  be  thought  to  exceed  the  bounds  of 
 “  propriety,  if  I  offer,  as  a  last  tribute  to 
 “  his  memory,  a  few  recollections  of  what 
 “  he  was.  I  had  the  happiness  of  becoming 
 “  acquainted  with  him  at  a  very  early  age, 
 “  and  before  he  was  ordained  a  minister  of 
 “  the  church ;  and  I  remember  the  many 
 
 valuable  qualifications  for  which,  even  at 
 “  that  age,  he  was  distinguished  ;  and  the 
 “  mingled  respect  and  affection  with  which 
 “he  was  regarded  by  those  who  knew  him. 
 
 “  I  remember  that  unsuspecting  openness 
 “  of  temper  and  perfect  singleness  of  heart 
 “  which  peculiarly  characterised  his  whole 
 “  character  and  deportment ; — that  delica- 
 “  cy  of  moral  principle  which  shrunk,  as 
 “  if  by  extinct,  from  the  slightest  stain  of 
 “  vice  ; — that  exact  sense  of  propriety  which 
 “  suited  itself,  without  effort,  to  what  the 
 “  occasion  required  ; — that  liveliness  and 
 “  play  of  fancy  which,  in  the  intercourse 
 “  of  social  life,  delighted,  but  never  wound- 
 “  ed  ; — that  soundness  of  understanding 
 “  which  enabled  him  to  judge  correctly  of 
 “  the  subjects  to  which  he  directed  his  at- 
 “  tention  that  refinement  of  taste  and 
 
 “  felicity 
 
DR  MOODIE. 
 
 .  XXXY 
 
 felicity  of  style  which  qualified  him  to 
 “  illustrate  and  adorn  them ; — and  that  fair 
 and  honourable  ambition  of  excellence 
 “  which  sustained  his  exertions,  and  prompt- 
 “  ed  him  to  acquire  the  various  and  pro- 
 “  found  knowledge  for  which  he  was  so 
 justly  distinguished. 
 
 “  At  the  period  to  which  I  allude,  he 
 “  stood  deservedly  in  the  very  first  rank  of 
 “  his  cotemporaries  for  power  of  intellect 
 and  literary  acquirements  ;  and  such  were 
 the  purity  of  his  principles,  the  suavity 
 ‘‘  of  his  manners,  and  the  benignity  of  his 
 “  temper,  that  his  eminent  talents  and  sue- 
 “  cess  never  caused  him  an  enemy.  Through 
 ‘‘  life  the  same  amiable  and  estimable  prin- 
 “  ciples  continued  to  regulate  his  conduct ; 
 “  and  their  happy  effects,  in  divesting  ri- 
 “  valry  of  its  asperity,  and  in  conciliating 
 “  esteem  and  kindness,  were  conspicuous 
 “  in  the  most  important  incidents  of  his 
 “  subsequent  fortune. 
 
 “  While  he  was  yet  a  very  young  man, 
 “  he  was  presented  to  the  care  of  an  exten- 
 “  sive  and  populous  parish,.  To  some  of 
 
 c  2  ‘‘  the 
 
3CXXV1 
 
 THE  LIFE  OF 
 
 “  the  congregation,  this  appointment  was 
 ‘‘  not  acceptable.  They  had,  indeed,  no 
 “  personal  hostility  to  Mr  Moodie;  but  they 
 imagined  that  they  had  reason  to  be  of- 
 “  fended  with  the  conduct  of  the  patron  ; 
 “  and  they  chose  to  manifest  their  resent- 
 “  ment  on  account  of  the  supposed  injury, 
 “  by  opposing  the  settlement.  But  they 
 were  very  speedily  convinced  that  their 
 opposition  was  ill  judged  and  unreason- 
 “  able.  For,  by  the  time  Mr  Moodie  had 
 been  a  few  months  settled  among  them, 
 so  perfectly  were  they  satisfied  with  the 
 zeal  and  fidelity  which  he  manifested  in 
 “  the  discharge  of  all  his  pastoral  duties, 
 “  with  the  excellence  and  impressiveness  of 
 his  public  discourses,  his  conciliatory 
 “  manners,  and  the  general  integrity  and 
 benevolence  of  his  conduct,  that  he  had 
 “  not  an  enemy  remaining  in  the  parish. 
 
 “  After  he  had  discharged,  in  a  manner 
 “  not  less  acceptable  to  his  people,  than  ho- 
 nourable  to  himself,  the  ministerial  du- 
 “  ties,  for  a  few  years,  in  his  first  charge, 
 “  his  eminence,  as  a  clergyman,  attracted 
 the  notice  of  the  Magistrates  of  Edin- 
 
 “  burgh. 
 
DR  MOODIE. 
 
 xxxvii 
 
 ‘  burgh,  who  presented  him' to  this  parish, 
 ‘  at  that  time  vacant ;  and  so  fully  sensible 
 ‘  were  his  people,  both  of  his  private  worth, 
 ‘  and  of  his  public  usefulness,  that  even 
 ‘  those  of  them  who,  some  years  before, 
 ‘  had  most  keenly  opposed  his  settlement 
 ‘  in  the  parish,  were  now  not  less  strenuous 
 ‘  in  their  endeavours  to  prevent  him  from 
 ‘  beins:  removed  from  it.  This  fact  is  ere- 
 ‘  ditable  both  to  pastor  and  people  ;  and 
 ‘  if,  when  viewed  in  one  aspect,  it  indi- 
 ‘  cates  the  versatility  of  popular  sentiment, 
 ‘  and  the  little  reliance  which  ought  to  be 
 ‘  placed  on  the  justness  of  popular  opi- 
 ‘  nion  ;  it  shews,  when  contemplated  in 
 ‘  another  view,  that  no  prejudices  can  long 
 ‘  withstand  the  influence  which  sound  ta- 
 ‘  lents,  combined  with  fidelity  in  the  dis- 
 ‘  charge  of  duty,  propriety  of  conduct, 
 ‘  and  gentleness  of  manners,  are  naturally 
 “  fitted  to  produce  on  the  minds  of  men. 
 
 “  I  need  not  remind  you,  my  friends, 
 “  of  the  great  zeal  and  diligence  with  which 
 “  he  executed  the  functions  of  the  ministe- 
 “  rial  office,  for  many  years  after  he  was 
 ‘‘  settled  in  this  charge,  I  need  not  recal 
 
 “  to 
 
xxxviii 
 
 THE  LIFE  OF 
 
 “  to  your  recollection  the  classical  taste  dis- 
 “  played  in  the  composition  of  his  public 
 “  discourses the  clearness  with  which  he 
 brought  forward  his  views  of  the  sacred 
 doctrines  of  the  gospel ; — and  the  force 
 “  of  argument  and  aptness  of  illustration 
 “  with  which  he  supported  them.  Nor 
 need  I  dilate  on  the  peculiar  earnestness 
 “  with  which  he  supported  the  cause  of 
 practical  religion  and  virtue ; — the  so- 
 “  lemnity  of  his  warnings,  and  the  im- 
 ‘‘  pressiveness  of  his  manner,  indicating 
 “  how  deeply  he  himself  felt  the  sacred 
 “  truths  which  he  wished  to  inculcate  upon 
 “  others.  In  a  parish  like  this,  where  pri- 
 vate  admonition  is  hardly  practicable ; 
 “  and  where,  though  it  were  in  our  power, 
 “  very  little  of  it  could  with  propriety  be 
 attempted,  the  public  duties  of  the  sanc- 
 “  tuary  form  the  chief  means  of  a  clergy- 
 “  man’s  usefulness.  And  the  general  cha- 
 “  racter  of  Doctor  Moodie’s  sermons  shew- 
 ed  how  sedulously  he  applied  his  mind 
 ‘‘  to  this  most  important  part  of  his  pro- 
 fessional  duty,  and  how  assiduously  he 
 laboured  to  promote  the  religious  im- 
 
 provement 
 
DR  MOODIE. 
 
 xxxlx 
 
 provement  of  the  people  committed  to 
 “  his  charge. 
 
 “  But  though  his  chief  attention  was, 
 “  at  this  period,  given  to  his  ministerial 
 “  duties,'  it  was  not  restricted  to  them 
 “  alone.  A  vacancy  having  occurred  in 
 “  the  Professorship  of  Hebrew  in  the  Uni- 
 “  versity,  Doctor  Moodie  was  appointed  to 
 “  that  office.  His  previous  acquirements 
 “  had  qualified  him  peculiarly  for  dischar- 
 “  ging  the  duties  of  it ;  and  with  such  ar- 
 “  dour  did  he  apply  himself  to  the  studies 
 “  connected  with  this  department,  that  he 
 ‘‘  soon  became  one  of  the  most  distinguish- 
 “  ed  proficients  in  oriental  literature  of 
 “  which  this  country  could  boast. 
 
 4 
 
 “  In  his  academical  labours  he  was  emi- 
 “  nently  successful.  He  possessed  the  hap- 
 “  py  talent  of  communicating,  with  clear- 
 “  ness  and  facility,  a  knowledge  of  the  lan- 
 “  guage  which  it  was  his  province  to  teach, 
 “  as  well  as  of  inspiring  his  pupils  with  an 
 ‘‘  ambition  of  excelling  in  it  ;  and,  proba- 
 “  bly,  no  other  professor,  in  any  of  our 
 universities,  ever  contributed  so  much  as 
 
 “  Doctor 
 
xl 
 
 THE  LIFE  OF 
 
 “  Doctor  Moodie,  to  diffuse,  among  the  cler- 
 “  gy  of  the  church  of  Scotland,  a  correct 
 “  knowledge  oi  the  Hebrew  language. 
 
 “  These  various  professional  duties  un- 
 avoidably  rendered  his  life  a  laborious 
 one  :  yet  they  did  not  so  completely  ab- 
 “  sorb  his  attention,  as  to  prevent  him  from 
 “  that  miscellaneous  study  which  becomes 
 “  a  man  of  letters,  or  to  detach  him  from 
 “  the  enjoyments  of  social  life.  As  a  ge- 
 “  neral  scholar,  his  literary  attainments 
 “  were  highly  respectable  ;  and,  as  is  usual 
 “  with  men  of  genuine  benevolence,  he  was 
 fond  of  unbending  his  mind  in  the  so- 
 “  ciety  of  his  friends.  He  possessed  too, 
 “  in  no  inconsiderable  degree,  the  talent  of 
 “  diffusing  cheerfulness  among  those  wdth 
 “  whom  he  associated,  as  well  as  that  kind- 
 liness  of  temper  which,  happy  in  itself, 
 “  strives  to  promote  the  happiness  of  others; 
 “  and  no  man  could  fulfil,  more  faithfully 
 “  than  he  did,  the  duties  of  an  affectionate 
 “  husband,  a  kind  father,  an  indulgent  mas- 
 “  ter,  a  disinterested  friend  ;  nor  could  any 
 “  man’s  counsel  be  more  readily  or  candid- 
 ‘‘  ly  given  to  direct  the  unexperienced,  or  his 
 
 “  influence 
 
DR  MOODIE. 
 
 3rfl 
 
 influence  and  assistance  more  cheerfully 
 ‘‘  and  zealously  contributed  to  promote  tlie 
 success  of  friendless  merit. 
 
 “  Indeed,  the  prominent  moral  features 
 of  his  character,  were  candour  and  bene- 
 “  volence,  an  unsuspecting  reliance  on  the 
 “  fairness  of  men’s  purposes  and  professions, 
 “  and  a  sincere  desire  to  make  others  hap- 
 “  py.  If  he  sometimes  carried  his  good 
 opinion  of  mankind  farther  than  was 
 “  strictly  proper,  it  was  an  error  which 
 arose  from  his  unwillingness  to  suspect, 
 ‘‘  in  others,  defects  from  which  he  himself 
 “  was  completely  exempted. 
 
 ‘‘  But  while  his  mind  was  thus  happily 
 accommodated  to  the  duties  of  his  sta- 
 tion,  and  to  all  the  kind  offices  of  life, 
 “  it  was  his  misfortune  to  have  received 
 ‘‘  from  nature,  a  feeble  constitution  ,  of  bo- 
 ‘‘  dy,  and  a  strong  susceptibility  of  disease ; 
 “  and,  about  nine  years  ago,  he  was  attacked 
 “  with  a  violent  illness  which  long  disqua- 
 “  lified  him  from  discharging  his  ministe- 
 “  rial  duties.  Of  the  very  high  estimation 
 “  in  which  he  was  held,  the  universal  and 
 
 d 
 
 anxious 
 
THE  LIFE  OF  DR  MOODIE. 
 
 :&lii 
 
 ^  anxious  interest  which  his  people  took  in 
 the  progress  of  his  disorder,  is  sufficient 
 “  proof.  But  it  pleased  the  supreme  Dis- 
 ‘‘  poser,  that  he  should  never  again  be  com- 
 “  pletely  restored  to  the  wishes  of  his 
 friends^  For  though  he  recovered  so  far 
 as  to  be  able  to  discharge  his  public  du- 
 “  ties,  some  of  the  effects  of  the  disorder 
 “  remained  in  his  constitution  ;  and  by  a 
 “  recurrence  of  it,  he  has  now  been  remov- 
 “  ed  from  this  scene  of  trial,  and  introdu- 
 ‘‘  ced,  we  trust,  into- a  happier  state, -where 
 “  his  works  of  faithfulness  and  of  bene- 
 volcnce  have  followed  him. 
 
 ‘‘  My  brethren  !  let  us  cherish  the  sacred 
 ‘‘  principles  which  we  have  been  accustom- 
 to  hear  inculcated  by  him,  with  such 
 “  affecting  earnestness,  ^  in  his  public  mini- 
 “  strations.  Let  us  study  to  make  them 
 “  the  guide  of  our  conduct  amid  ,  the  temp- 
 “  tations  of  life,  and  our  solace  amid  its 
 afflictions..  And  looking  forward  to  a. 
 better  country,  when  this  life  closes,  let 
 “  us  be  ready  cheerfully  to  resign  our  spirit, 
 “  whenever  the  Father  of  tOur  Spirits,  shall, 
 require  it. — Amen.” 
 
ON  THE  DUTY  OF  ATTENDING  THE  PUBLIC 
 INSTITUTIONS  OF  RELIGION, 
 
 Preached  on  the  first  Sunday  after  his  admission  to  the  Charge  of 
 St  Andrew’s  Church. 
 
 SERMON  I. 
 
 HEBREWS,  X.  25. 
 
 Not  forsaking  the  assembling  of  ourselves  toge~ 
 ther,  as  the  manner  of  some  is,  hut  exhorting 
 one  another ;  and  so  much  the  more  as  ye  see 
 the  day  approaching. 
 
 In  the  preceding  verses,  Paul  had  stated 
 the  doctrine  of  our  Saviour’s  mediation. 
 From  the  view  which  he  had  given  of  that 
 gracious  appointment,  he  had  encouraged 
 the  Hebrews  to  approach  their  Maker  in 
 the  exercises  of  religion.  These  were  the 
 means  which  God  had  provided  for  pro¬ 
 moting  their  improvement  in  knowledge 
 A  and 
 
o 
 
 SERMON  I. 
 
 and  in  virtue.  By  uniting  in  the  public 
 offices  of  devotion,  they  might  contribute 
 to  inflame  each  others  piety,  and  to  animate 
 each  other  in  the  paths  of  obedience. 
 
 The  argument  by  which  the  apostle  en¬ 
 forces  his  exhortation,  is  peculiarly  adapted 
 to  the  age  in  which  he  wrote  ;  in  so  much 
 the  more  (saith  he)  as  ye  see  the  day  ap-^ 
 preaching.  The  day  to  which  he  alludes,  is 
 that  day  of  vengeance  of  which  our  Saviour 
 had  spoken,  when  the  miseries  which  were 
 to  befal  the  nation  of  the  Jews,  were  to  at¬ 
 test  the  truth  of  his  religion,  and  the  power 
 of  his  kingdom. 
 
 This  day  of  vengeance  is  now  past ;  but 
 the  duty  which  the  consideration  of  it  is 
 employed  to  recommend,  is  a  duty  of  eter¬ 
 nal  and  immutable  obligation.  If  it  be  ad¬ 
 mitted  that  there  is  a  God,  the  Creator,  the 
 Preserver,  and  the  Governor  of  the  world, 
 it  will  follow,  that  to  a  being  so  exalted 
 some  homage  is  due  ;  and  if  the  institu¬ 
 tions  of  religion  have  a  native  tendency  to 
 cherish  and  diffuse  the  sentiment  of  piety, 
 it  will  follow,  that  to  assemble  ourselves  for 
 the  purpose  of  devotion,  is  a  duty  which 
 we*  cannot  innocently  neglect. 
 
 The 
 
SERMON  L 
 
 The  circumstances  in  which  I  address  you 
 at  present,  will  suggest  to  you  the  reason 
 why  I  have  chosen  this  passage  as  the  sub¬ 
 ject  of  my  discourse.  Called  to  discharge 
 among  you  an  important  office  ;  to  lead 
 the  devotions  which,  in  this  place,  you  are  to 
 offer  up  to  Heaven,  and  to  recal  to  your  at¬ 
 tention,  and  recommend  to  your  practice, 
 the  duties  which  the  Lord  your  God  hath  re¬ 
 quired  of  you ;  I  feel  my  own  inability  to 
 perform  the  task  in  the  manner  that  might 
 suit  its  high  importance :  I  foresee,  that  with 
 all  the  diligence  which  I  can  exert,  I  must 
 often  stand  in  need  of  your  indulgence  and 
 favour ;  and  I  wish,  at  the  commencement 
 of  my  labours  among  you,  to  set  before  you 
 such  views  of  the  duty  recommended  in  the 
 text,  as  may  dispose  you  to  persevere  in  as- 
 semhling  yourselves  together^  from  a  just  re¬ 
 gard  to  the  duty  itself,  notwithstanding  the 
 defects  which  in  my  ministrations  you  will 
 often  have  occasion  to  forgive. 
 
 Now,  the  duty  of  assemhling  yourselves 
 tor  the  purpose  of  devotion,  may  be  re¬ 
 commended  from  the  three  following  con¬ 
 siderations  : — I.  From  the  regard  which  you 
 ow^e  to  God  ; — 11.  From  the  regard  which 
 A  2  you 
 
4 
 
 SERMON  I. 
 
 you  owe  to  your  brethren ; — and,  III.  From 
 the  regard  which  you  owe  to  yourselves. 
 
 I.  Consider  the  regard  which  you  owe 
 to  God.  The  existence  of  a  God  is  a  truth 
 which  the  light  of  nature  discovers,  and 
 which  hath  been  received  in  all  ages  of  the 
 world.  With  the  belief  of  this  doctrine  is 
 connected  the  perception  of  various  duties 
 which  we  owe  to  our  Maker.  His  perfec¬ 
 tions  displayed  so  illustriously  in  all  his 
 works,  and  the  relations  in  which  he  stands 
 to  us  as  our  Creator,  our  Preserver,  our  Be¬ 
 nefactor,  and  our  Judge,  call  for  the  best 
 affections  of  the  human  heart. 
 
 When  we  contemplate  him  as  the  former 
 of  unnumbered  worlds,  and  the  source  from 
 which  all  existence  is  derived,  admiration 
 and  reverence  fill  our  breasts.  When  we 
 consider  him  as  the  supreme  disposer  of 
 events,  who  wieldeth  the  sceptre  of  the 
 universe,  and  doth  all  things  according  to 
 his  pleasure  in  heaven  and  on  earth,  the 
 sense  of  our  constant  dependence  on  his 
 providence,  leads  us  to  cast  our  cares  ivpon 
 him.  When  we  regard  him  as  the  moral 
 ruler  of  the  world,  who  hath  established 
 
 his 
 
SERMON  I; 
 
 Ms  law  in  the  heart  of  man,  who  hath  en¬ 
 forced  it  by  sanctions  of  the  most  awful 
 nature,  and  will  not  suffer  the  guilty  to 
 escape  unpunished,  the  recollection  of  the 
 trespasses  by  which  w’e  have  offended  him 
 begets  in  us  the  sincerest  compunction  and 
 regret ;  and  this  compunction  is  greatly  in¬ 
 creased  by  contemplating  him  as  the  author 
 of  all  our  bliss,  as  the  fountain  from  which 
 our  existence,  our  comforts,  and  our  hopes, 
 are  derived.  Gratitude  mingles  with  every 
 other  affection,  and  the  love  of  so  kind  and 
 gracious  a  Being  purifies  our  trust,  our  ad¬ 
 miration,  and  our  fear. 
 
 These  affections  are  the  foundation  of 
 religious  worship  ;  and  when  they  glow  in 
 the  breast  with  their  native  ardour,  they 
 delight  to  express  themselves  in  the  lan¬ 
 guage  of  devotion.  They  lead  us  irresist¬ 
 ibly  to  the  throne  of  God,  to  pour  out,  in 
 the  presence  of  him  who  made  us,  the  emo¬ 
 tions  which  infinite  perfection  inspires. 
 
 I  trust,  my  friends,  that  you  are  no  stran¬ 
 gers  to  such  feelings  as  these.  Not  to  have 
 yielded  occasionally  to  their  influence,  is  an 
 evidence  of  some  fatal  defect  in  the  cha¬ 
 racter.  It  argues  a  disbelief  of  what  the 
 A  S  wise 
 
6 
 
 SERMON  I. 
 
 wise  in  all  ages  have  admitted,  or  a  thought-^ 
 lessness  inexcusable  where  the  subject  is  so 
 interesting,  or  an  insensibility  which  a  vir¬ 
 tuous  mind  would  be  ashamed  to  confess. 
 Yes,  you  have  occasionally  felt  such  emo¬ 
 tions  as  these  ;  you  acknowledge,  that  to 
 be  total  strangers  to  their  influence  would 
 imply  a  defect  in  your  characters. 
 
 But  is  it  not  enough,  you  will  say,  to  in¬ 
 dulge,  and  to  express  them  in  private  ?  Is 
 not  religion  between  God  and  the  soul  of 
 man  ?  Will  not  our  devotions  ascend  as 
 grateful  from  the  retirement  of  the  closet 
 as  from  the  assembly  of  the  people  ?  Doth 
 not  the  Lord  smile  as  graciously  on  the 
 dwellings  of  Jacob  as  on  the  gates  of  Zion  ? 
 
 Religion  is  indeed  between  God  and  the 
 soul  of  man.  It  is  in  retirement  that  the 
 heart  pours  itself  forth  with  the  most  plea¬ 
 sing  freedom  to  the  Hearer  of  prayer.  It  is 
 there  that  the  worshipper  can  adjust  his 
 confessions  to  his  own  particular  offences ; 
 it  is  there  that  he  can  adapt  his  prayers  to 
 his  own  particular  necessities,  and  accom¬ 
 modate  his  thanksgivings  to  the  blessings 
 which  he  himself  in  particular  hath  re¬ 
 ceived.  If  our  hearts  have  no  relish  for 
 
 these 
 
SERMON  1. 
 
 7' 
 
 these  more  private  duties,  our  public  pro¬ 
 fessions  of  piety  will  be  of  little  avail.  But 
 there  are  necessities  which  are  felt  in  com¬ 
 mon  by  all ;  there  are  relations  in  which 
 all,  in  common,  stand  to  their  Maker;  there 
 are  blessings  of  which  all  in.  common  are 
 admitted  to  partake.  These  it  becomes  us 
 to  unite  in  acknowledging,  that  by  ming¬ 
 ling  our  voices  in  one  hymn  of  praise,  we 
 may  kindle  in  one  another  those  pious  emo¬ 
 tions  which  are  due  to  the  Creator,  the 
 Preserver,  and  the  Redeemer  of  our  race. 
 
 Ostentation  in  professing  our  religious 
 opinions  and  feelings  ought,  indeed,  to  be 
 carefully  avoided.  It  is  a  quality  in  the 
 highest  degree  disgusting  and  offensive. 
 It  is  so  often  assumed  as  the  veil  of  the 
 hypocrite,  that  whenever  it  appears  in  the 
 character  of  a  Christian,  it  excites  a  strong, 
 and,  for  the  most  part,  a  just  suspicion  of 
 his  sincerity. 
 
 But  there  is  a  decent  and  manly  avowal 
 of  their  religious  principles,  which  will  al^ 
 w^ays  distinguish  those  whose  minds  are 
 duly  impressed  with  the  sentiment  of  piety. 
 This  avowal  you  make  when  you  assemble 
 here  for  the  purpose  of  devotion.  You  con- 
 A  4  fess 
 
8 
 
 SERMON  I. 
 
 fess  God  before  men ;  you  acknowledge  the 
 relation  in  which  you  stand  to  him ;  you 
 number  yourselves  with  his  children  ;  you 
 declare  to  the  world  that  you  believe  in  his 
 name  ;  that  you  reverence  his  perfections  ; 
 that  you  seek  his  favour  as  your  supreme 
 felicity ;  and  rely  on  his  bounty  as  the 
 foundation  of  your  hopes.  And  is  there 
 aught  in  this  profession  of  which  you  have 
 cause  to  be  ashamed  ?  Or  do  you  think  that 
 you  discharge  your  duty  to  God,  while  you 
 conceal  your  piety  as  a  weakness  from  the 
 eyes  of  your  brethren  ? 
 
 It  is  indeed  to  be  lamented,  that  a  sober 
 conviction  of  religious  truth,  expressed  by 
 a  becoming  respect  for  the  offices  of  devo¬ 
 tion,  should  ever  be  derided  as  the  mark  of 
 a  weak  and  visionary  mind.  It  is  still  more 
 to  be  lamented,  that  any  persons  who  are 
 alive  to  the  sentiment  of  religion,  should 
 be  restrained  by  the  fear  of  such  derision, 
 from  avowing  boldly  wh^t  they  believe  and 
 feel ;  for  they  are  the  thoughtless  and  the 
 profane  alone  to  whom  a  rational  piety  is 
 an  object  of  ridicule  ;  and  we  betray  weak¬ 
 ness  ot  mind,  not  by  respecting  religion, 
 but  by  being  afraid  to  profess  it. 
 
 In 
 
SERMON  1. 
 
 9 
 
 In  ordinary  life,  we  despise  the  man  who 
 hath  not  the  courage  to  maintain  his  prin¬ 
 ciples,  and  to  display  them  in  his  practice : 
 Yet,  surely,  in  no  case  whatever  is  such  ti¬ 
 midity  more  inexcusable  than  in  the  case  of 
 religion.  Strange  !  that  while  the  profane 
 make  a  boast  of  their  impiety,  and  the 
 wicked  glory  in  their  shame  ! — Strange  ! 
 that  the  pious  should  dissemble  a  belief 
 which  hath  obtained  the  sanction  of  the 
 wise  in  all  ages  of  the  world,  and  emotions 
 which  it  is  the  distinction  of  their  nature 
 to  feel ! 
 
 If  you  believe  that  Cod  is,  show  your 
 belief  by  your  conduct.  We  do  not  ex¬ 
 hort  you  to  testify  your  faith  by  an  osten¬ 
 tatious  display  of  sanctity,  by  a  flaming  and 
 intolerant  zeal,  or  by  obtruding  unseason¬ 
 ably  on  the  ears  of  your  brethren  the  sa¬ 
 cred  truths  of  religion.  But  we  exhort  you 
 to  testify  your  faith  by  a  regular  and  uni¬ 
 form  respect  for  those  venerable  instituti¬ 
 ons  of  the  gospel,  in  which  it  is  no  osten¬ 
 tation  to  mingle,  and  which  were  ordained 
 as  a  memorial  of  God  to  all  kindreds  and 
 nations  of  men.  Give  unto  the  Loj'd,  ye 
 
 yeoyki 
 
10 
 
 SERMON  I. 
 
 people,  give  unto  the  Lord  glory  and  strength. 
 Give  unto  the  Lord,  ye  mighty,  the  ^lory  due 
 to  his  name.  Worship  the  Lord  in  the  beau¬ 
 ties  of  holiness. 
 
 Piety,  when  firmly  established  in  the 
 heart,  is  a  generous,  ardent,  diffusiye  prin¬ 
 ciple.  Warmed  by  the  contemplation  of 
 the  greatness  of  God,  we  feel  that  our  own 
 solitary  homage  is  too  slender  a  tribute  to 
 the  Being  whom  we  adore :  we  wish  to 
 kindle  in  every  creature  around  us  the 
 same  devout  affections  with  which  we  our¬ 
 selves  are  inspired  :  we  invoke  the  earth, 
 and  the  heavens,  *and  angels,  and  men, 
 to  unite  in  swelling  the  hymn  of  praise. 
 Praise  the  Lord  from  the  heavens,  ye  glo- 
 idous  hosts  of  his.  Praise  him,  sun  and 
 moon.  Praise  him,  ye  stars  of  light.  Praise 
 the  Lord  from  the  earth,  ye  mountains,  and 
 all  deeps.  Praise  him,  kings  and  judges. 
 Praise  him,  all  ye  people.  Praise  the  Lord, 
 0  my  soul.  I  will  go  to  the  altar  of  God,  to 
 God  my  exceeding  joy  :  I  Kirill  offer  unto  him 
 the  sacrifice  of  thanksgiving  in  the  presence 
 of  all  the  people,  in  the  courts  of  the  Lord^s 
 house,  in  the  midst  of  thee,  0  Jerusalem. 
 
 IT. 
 
SERMON  I. 
 
 11 
 
 11,  This  leads  me,  in  the  second  place,  to 
 recommend  the  duty  of  assembling  yourselves 
 from  the  consideration  oEthe  regard  which 
 you  owe  to  your  brethren. 
 
 Even  those  who  dispute  the  truth  of  re* 
 ligion,  acknowledge  its  usefulness  to  society. 
 They  regard  it,  indeed,  as  the  invention  of 
 legislators,  but  as  an  invention  wisely  cal¬ 
 culated  to  guard  the  virtue,  and  to  improve 
 the  happiness  of  mankind. 
 
 There  are  defects  in  all  human  laws  which 
 religion  alone  can  remedy.  The  best  regu¬ 
 lations  which  the  wisdom  of  statesmen  can 
 devise,  can  serve  only  as  a  restraint  on  the 
 outward  actions  of  men  :  their  efficacy  dcr 
 pends  on  the  attention  of  the  magistrate, 
 whose  vigilance  the  transgressor  may  elude ; 
 and  the  sanctions  by  which  they  are  en¬ 
 forced,  are  punishments  of  a  transient  na¬ 
 ture,  which  borrow  their  principal  influ¬ 
 ence  from  views  peculiar  to  religion, 
 
 But  religion  reaches  the  heart,  and  puri¬ 
 fies  the  outward  conduct,  by  cleansing  the 
 hidden  source  from  which  all  our  actions 
 flow.  It  reveals  to  us  an  omniscient  Judge, 
 from  whose  eye  no  darkness  can  conceal  us, 
 and  discloses  to  us  an  eternal  state,  in  which 
 
 God 
 
SERMON  I. 
 
 God  will  render  unto  every  man  accoy'ding  as 
 his  works  have  heeiu 
 
 These  are  the  awful  considerations  which 
 bind  the  consciences,  and  guard  the  virtue 
 of  mankind.  Banish  these  from  their 
 thoughts,  and  human  laws  will  lose  much 
 of  their  salutary  influence  ;  the  transgressor 
 will  disregard  an  authority  whose  vengeance 
 he  may  hope  to  escape,  and  despise  the 
 threatenings  of  those  who  can  only  kill  the 
 body^  but  who  have  nothing  more  that  they 
 can  do. 
 
 Now,  though  religion  had  no  higher  ori¬ 
 gin  than  human  policy,  even  in  this  view 
 it  is  entitled  to  your  respect.  The  influ¬ 
 ence  which  it  is  fitted  to  exert  on  the  con¬ 
 duct  of  those  who  believe  it,  should  dispose 
 you  to  revere  and  countenance  the  institu¬ 
 tions  by  which  its  influence  is  maintained 
 and  diffused.  This  is  an  argument  which 
 will  have  great  force  with  all  who  are  in¬ 
 terested  for  the  welfare  of  society;  but  at 
 present  we  would  address  it  chiefly  to  those 
 who  are  placed  in  stations  of  distinction, 
 and  by  whose  example  the  multitude  are 
 apt  to  be  guided. 
 
 You,  my  friends,  are  blessed  with  many 
 
 opportunities 
 
SERMON  1. 
 
 ]3 
 
 opportunities  of  moral  instruction,  to  which 
 the  lower  orders  of  men  are  total  strangers. 
 In  your  early  years,  your  minds  are  opened 
 and  cultivated  by  a  liberal  education.  The 
 principles  of  virtue  are  instilled  into  them. 
 A  sense  of  character,  and  the  absence  of 
 many  temptations  to  which  the  poor  are 
 exposed,  will,  for  the  most  part,  be  suffi¬ 
 cient  to  preserve  you  from  those  meaner 
 vices  which  are  so  destructive  to  the  com¬ 
 fort  of  society.  On  this  account  you  ima¬ 
 gine,  and  perhaps  you  imagine  justly,  that 
 you  are  less  dependent  than  others  on  the 
 institutions  of  religion. 
 
 I  shall  afterwards  have  occasion  to  show 
 you,  that  even  to  you  these  institutions  may 
 be  of  much  avail.  But  setting  aside  this 
 consideration;  admitting  that  you  need  not 
 the  institutions  of  religion,  and  that  you 
 cannot  be  profited  by  them ;  yet  think  of 
 the  condition  of  those  who  are  beneath  you, 
 your  dependents,  your  brethren,  to  whose 
 happiness  and  virtue  some  regard  is  due. 
 Think  of  the  condition  of  your  humbler 
 brethren. — Toiling  to  procure  a  scanty  sub¬ 
 sistence,  with  hardly  a  sufficient  interval  of 
 i;epose  to  recruit  their  spirits  for  the  re¬ 
 newal 
 
14 
 
 SERMON  I. 
 
 newal  of  their  labours ;  they  are  left,  with 
 minds  uncultivated  by  education,  to  en¬ 
 counter  the  temptations  of  want  and  wretch¬ 
 edness,  while  no  leisure  is  afforded  them  to 
 review  their  conduct,  or  to  think  of  *the 
 purpose  for  which  they  are  placed  on  the 
 earth.  From  persons  thus  circumstanced 
 what  could  we  expect  ?  How  barren  and 
 desolate  would  their  minds  be  !  how  gro¬ 
 velling  their  views !  how  precarious-  their 
 virtue  !  were  it  not  for  the  regular  return 
 of  those  institutions  of  the  gospel  by  which 
 they  are  raised  to  the  knowledge  of  God 
 and  of  their  duty.  To  them  is  it  not  of 
 the  mercies  of  Heaven  that  a  day  is  conse¬ 
 crated  in  which  they  are  permitted  to  re¬ 
 pose  from  the  cares  of  life,  in  which  they 
 are  invited  to  approach  the  temple  of  the 
 Lord,  to  pour  out  their  souls  before  Him 
 who  made  them,  and  to  indulge  their  trust 
 in  that  gracious  Providence  which  careth 
 for  the  happiness  of  every  creature  that 
 lives  ?  Is  it  not  of  the  mercies  of  Heaven  that 
 a  day  is  consecrated,  in  which  they  are  cal¬ 
 led  upon  by  men  appointed  to  the  task,  to 
 consider  the  things  that  helong  to  their  peace ; 
 in  which  they  are  warned  of  the  snares  and 
 ^  temptations 
 
SERMON  L 
 
 15 
 
 temptations  of  life  ;  in  which  they  are  in¬ 
 structed  in  the  duties  which  God  had  re¬ 
 quired  of  them,  and  solaced  with  the  hopes 
 which  the  gospel  opens  to  sweeten  their 
 existence,  and  to  animate  their  virtue  ? 
 
 And  will  you,  whom  God  hath  blessed 
 with  so  many  other  means  of  instruction 
 and  comfort,  will  you  teach  your  less  for¬ 
 tunate  brethren  to  despise  the  most  preci¬ 
 ous  advantages  of  their  condition  ?  Will 
 you  declare  to  them  that  there  is  no  truth 
 in  the  doctrines  which  religion  reveals  j 
 that  there  is  no  obligation  to  the  duties 
 which  it  enjoins  ;  that  there  is  no  reality 
 in  the  consolations  which  it  administers, 
 consolations  which  are  open  alike  to  the 
 rich  and  to  the  poor,  and  which  can  glad¬ 
 den  the  hearts  of  those  who  are  strangers 
 to  every  other  joy  ?  Such,  however,  is  the 
 language  of  your  conduct,  when  you  omit 
 to  assemble  yourselves  in  the  house  of  God. 
 
 There  may,  indeed,  be  a  secret  respect 
 for  religion  in  the  hearts  of  some  who  min¬ 
 gle  not  in  its  outward  institutions.  But  the 
 ignorant,  whom  your  behaviour  must  in¬ 
 fluence,  are  incapable  of  making  the  dis¬ 
 tinction  ;  they  regard  your  forsaking  the 
 
 sanctuary 
 
SERMON  L 
 
 sanctuary  as  a  public  declaration  on  your 
 part,  that  you  have  abandoned  the  religious 
 character  ;  and  they  are  led,  by  their  imi¬ 
 tation  of  you,  to  renounce  that  faith  in 
 God  which  is  the  firmest  guardian  of  their 
 happiness  and  their  virtue. 
 
 Let  me  exhort  you,  then,  to  respect  the 
 institutions  of  the  gospel,  were  it  only  for 
 the  sake  of  those  to  whom  you  cannot  but 
 acknowledge  that  they  are  necessary.  Go 
 before  them  in  the  path  to  heaven  ;  and 
 lead  them,  by  the  light  of  your  example,  to 
 the  fear  and  the  love  of  that  God  on  whom 
 all  alike  depend. 
 
 It  is  no  unreasonable  service  in  which  we 
 exhort  you  to  mingle.  If  you  were  called, 
 as  in  the  days  of  Pagan  darkness,  to  bow 
 before  the  shrines  of  imaginary  deities, 
 whose  characters  were  stained  by  folly  and 
 vice,  and  whose  praises  were  to  be  cele¬ 
 brated  by  a  thousand  idle  ceremonies  in 
 which  reason  and  virtue  might  blush  to 
 share ;  if  this  were  the  worship  in  which 
 we  exhorted  you  to  join,  you  might  con¬ 
 template  with  horror  the  impious  scene, 
 and  imagine  that  you  were  contributing 
 to  the  best  interests  of  your  brethren,  while 
 
 you 
 
SERMON  1. 
 
 J7 
 
 you  were  labouring  to  break  the  bands  of 
 a  superstition  so  dishonourable  to  God,  and 
 so  debasing  to  man. 
 
 But  it  is  a  pure  religion  which  is  esta¬ 
 blished  in  our  land.  It  hath  evidences  of 
 its  truth,  which,  we  trust,  will  be  sufficient 
 to  convince  the  candid  ;  and  it  is  the  least 
 that  can  be  said  of  it,  even  by  its  enemies 
 themselves,  that  it  is  a  system  adapted  to 
 the  best  principles  of  the  human  mind,  nei¬ 
 ther  tainted  by  any  mixture  of  those  gross 
 superstitions  which  for  so  many  ages  pre¬ 
 vailed  in  the  earth,  nor  disgraced  by  those 
 barbarous  and  unhallowed  rites  by  which 
 the  blinded  nations  paid  their  homage  to 
 their  gods.  It  prescribes  a  refined  and  ra¬ 
 tional  worship,  the  worship  of  the  under^ 
 standing  and  the  hearty  offered  to  one  God, 
 the  Creator  of  the  world,  through  one  Me- 
 diator  between  God  and  man.  It  inculcates 
 on  its  professors  a  pure  morality,  fitted  to 
 lead  them  to  all  that  is  excellent  in  con¬ 
 duct,  and  opens  to  them  hopes  which  are 
 congenial  to  their  nature,  and  which  every 
 virtuous  mind  will  rejoice  to  cherish.  This 
 IS  that  true  light  which  the  nations  desired 
 to  beholdi  and  which  the  prophets  saw  from 
 
 B  afar^ 
 
18 
 
 SERMON  I. 
 
 afar,  and  itere  glad.  Rejoice  that,  on  us 
 who  live  in  these  latter  days,  the  Sun  of 
 righteousness  himself  hath  arisen ;  and  la¬ 
 bour,  by  maintaining  a  just  respect  for  the 
 institutions  of  the  gospel,  to  diffuse  among 
 your  brethren  the  influence  of  a  system  so 
 worthy  of  God,  and  so  consolatory  to  man, 
 
 III.  From  these  institutions  much  ad¬ 
 vantage  may  redound  to  yourselves.  Your 
 piety  and  your  virtue  may  derive  improve¬ 
 ment  from  the  exercises  in  which  you  are 
 here  called  to  engage.  This  is  the  last  view 
 in  which  I  proposed  to  consider  the  duty 
 recommended  in  the  text. 
 
 I  have  already  endeavoured  to  show  you, 
 that  the  ordinances  of  religion  are  indis¬ 
 pensably  necessary  to  the  piety  and  the 
 virtue  of  those  who  are  placed  in  the  lower 
 ranks  of  life.  But  even  you  who  move  in 
 the  higher  spheres  of  society,  and  who,  from 
 ■the  many  advantages  which  you  enjoy,  seem 
 less  dependent  than  others  on  the  ministra¬ 
 tions  of  the  gospel,  even  you  may  find, 
 that  it  is  not  a  vain  thing  to  mingle  with 
 the  multitude  that  keep  holy  days.  Your  re- 
 igious  principles  will  be  confirmed  and 
 
 strengthened 
 
SERMON  1. 
 
 19 
 
 strengthened  by  the  habit  of  avowing  them 
 in  the  presence  of  men,  and  your  piety  will 
 glow  with  double  ardour  while  you  catch 
 a  portion  of  that  sacred  fire  which  burns  in 
 the  breasts  of  all  your  brethren. 
 
 All  the  affections  of  the  human  heart, 
 joy  and  grief,  and  love  and  pity,  delight  to 
 express  themselves,  and  are  increased  by 
 communication.  The  feelings  of  devotion 
 also  are  social  feelings.  In  the  assembly  of 
 the  saints  the  emotion  passes  from  breast 
 to  breast ;  and  the  worshipper  of  God  feels 
 his  own  affections  grow,  while  he  beholds 
 a  kindred  affection  in  the  eyes  of  every 
 person  around  him. 
 
 The  admonitions  which  are  here  address¬ 
 ed  to  you  will  also  be  conducive  to  your 
 improvement.  We  pretend  not,  indeed, 
 to  communicate  to  you  any  new  informa¬ 
 tion  concerning  the  subjects  of  religion  or 
 morals.  The  system  which  we  explain  and 
 enforce  is  the  commandment  of  the  Master 
 whom  we  serve,  even  that  old  commandment 
 which  you  have  heard  fro7n  the  beginning. 
 
 But  our  labours,  we  trust,  will  not,  on 
 
 that  account,  be  regarded  as  useless _ It  is 
 
 not  by  ignorance  of  their  duty  that  men 
 
 B  2 
 
 are 
 
20 
 
 SERMON  I. 
 
 are  most  apt  to  be  betrayed  into  vice.  The 
 most  frequent  cause  of  transgression  is  this, 
 that  we  act  without  deliberation  ;  that  we 
 seldom  review  our  conduct,  or  consider  it 
 in  that  serious  light  in  which  it  appears  to 
 the  eye  of  Heaven. 
 
 There  are  circumstances  in  the  situation 
 of  those  who  are  placed  in  the  higher  ranks 
 of  life,  that  are  unfavourable  to  sober  re¬ 
 flection.  They  are  surrounded  by  so  many 
 pleasures, — they  are  engaged  in  so  many 
 frivolous  cares, — one  scene  of  gaiety  is  so 
 speedily  succeeded  by  another, — that  scarce¬ 
 ly  an  interval  is  left  to  be  employed  in  se¬ 
 rious  thought,  to  meditate  on  the  duties  of 
 their  stations,  or  to  inquire  how  they  vio¬ 
 late  or  fulfil  them. 
 
 If  they  sometimes  abuse  the  advantages 
 which  they  enjoy, — if  they  waste  their  time 
 and  their  talents  amidst  an  uninterrupted 
 succession  of  amusements, — if  they  omit 
 the  offices  of  kindness  which  they  owe  to 
 their  brethren  around  them, — if  they  per^ 
 vert  the  means  of  charity  into  instruments 
 of  unhallowed  pleasure,  and  act  as  tyrants 
 and  oppressors  towards  those  whom  it  is 
 their  duty  to  protect  and  to  cherish, — it  is 
 
 ^  not 
 
/ 
 
 SERMON  I.  21 
 
 not  because  their  hearts  are  insensible  to 
 every  virtuous  impression,  or  because  they 
 have  deliberately  resolved  to  disregard  and 
 violate  every  moral  obligation.  But  their 
 minds  are  continually  occupied  by  the  en¬ 
 joyments  which  their  situations  afford  ;  se¬ 
 rious  thought  is  banished ;  their  duty  and 
 the  consequences  of  their  conduct  are  sel¬ 
 dom  the  objects  of  their  attention ;  and 
 they  remain  unconscious  of  a  thousand  vices 
 which  deform  their  own  conduct,  and  em¬ 
 bitter  the  lives  of  their  brethren. 
 
 Amidst  such  temptations  as  these,  it  will 
 be  useful  to  retire  for  a  little  from  the  scene 
 of  dissipation,  and  to  commune  with  your 
 own  hearts.  In  the  temple  of  the  Lord  the 
 amusements  of  life  are  suspended  for  a  sea¬ 
 son  ;  our  minds  are  awakened  from  the 
 dream  of  folly  ;  our  conduct  is  brought  in 
 review  before  us ;  our  duty  is  presented  in 
 all  its  extent  and  obligations ;  and  consci¬ 
 ence,  restored  to  her  tribunal,  approves  or 
 condemns  impartially  according  as  our 
 deeds  have  been. 
 
 Here  the  rich  and  the  poor  meet  toge¬ 
 ther  ;  all  external  distinctions  are  forgotten, 
 and  the  motives  to  mutual  justice  and  kind- 
 
 B  3  ness 
 
22 
 
 SERMON  L 
 
 ness  occur  with  peculiar  force,  while  wc 
 assemble  ourselves  with  the  meanest  of  our 
 dependents  in  the  presence  of  that  God 
 who  hath  made  of  one  blood  all  kindreds  and 
 nations  of  men. 
 
 Here  we  are  called  to  contemplate  our¬ 
 selves  as  moral  and  accountable  beings ;  as 
 the  subjects  of  a  righteous  Ruler,  who  hath 
 prescribed  a  law^  for  our  conduct,  and  who 
 is  the  witness  of  all  that  we  do ;  and  every 
 action,  every  word,  every  thought  of  our 
 hearts,  acquires  an  awful  importance  when 
 considered  as  a  part  of  that  probation  on 
 which  our  everlasting  happiness  depends. 
 
 These  are  the  interesting  subjects  to 
 which  your  attention  is  here  directed  ; — 
 subjects  which,  amidst  the  gaiety  of  life,  are 
 apt  to  vanish  from  your  thoughts,  but  which, 
 if  you  are  desirous  to  preserve  your  virtue, 
 or  to  secure  the  favour  of  your  Maker,  it 
 will  become  you  frequently  to  recal. 
 
 Though,  therefore,  we  do  not  flatter  you 
 with  the  hope  of  receiving  any  new  infor¬ 
 mation  to  gratify  an  idle  curiosity,  yet  we 
 trust  that  you  will  be  sufficiently  rewarded 
 for  a  temporary  interruption  of  your  plea¬ 
 sures,  if,  by  means  of  the  institutions  of  re¬ 
 ligion, 
 
SERMON  I. 
 
 23 
 
 iigion,  you  are  awakened  to  serious  thought, 
 f  your  characters  are  thereby  revealed  to 
 you,  if  you  are  admonished  of  the  tempta¬ 
 tions  that  surround  you,  and  animated  in 
 those  paths  of  holiness  which  lead  to  the 
 habitation  of  God. 
 
 And  imagine  not,  my  friends,  (when  we 
 thus  admonish  you  to  interrupt  your  amuse¬ 
 ments  and  pleasures),  that  we  are  influen¬ 
 ced  by  that  gloomy  spirit  which  condemns 
 all  human  joy.  The  pleasures  which  your 
 conditions  afford  are  the  gifts  of  an  indul¬ 
 gent  Providence,  which  it  becomes  you  to 
 taste  with  cheerfulness,  and  which  none  but 
 the  ungenerous  will  envy  you.  We  rejoice 
 to  behold  the  comforts  that  are  scattered 
 so  liberally  around  you.  We  also  would 
 minister  to  your  joy,  by  opening  to  you 
 those  sacred  consolations  which  religion  is 
 fitted  to  impart.  If  you  are  alive  to  good 
 impressions,  the  exercises  in  which  we  ex¬ 
 hort  you  to  mingle  will  prove  a  source  of 
 the  purest  delight ;  and  you  will  return 
 with  exquisite  relish  to  enjoyments  which 
 you  have  interrupted  for  a  season,  when 
 your  souls  have  ascended  to  that  God  from 
 whom  all  your  blessings  flow ;  when  you 
 
 B  4  have 
 
SERMON  1. 
 
 have  hallowed  your  earthly  comforts  by 
 gratitude  to  the  Giver  of  good,  and  com 
 firmed  yourselves  in  those  virtuous  habits 
 which  will  adorn  your  present  prosperity, 
 while  they  secure  your  eternal  bliss. 
 
 Such  is  the  foundation  of  the  duty  which 
 the  apostle  recommends.  It  is  a  duty  which 
 you  owe  to  God  ; — it  is  a  duty  which 
 you  owe  to  your  brethren ; — ^it  is  a  duty 
 which  you  owe  to  yourselves; — and  though 
 there  were  no  express  commandment  re¬ 
 quiring  you  to  assemble  yourselves  together^ 
 it  is  a  duty  of  moral  obligation  which  you 
 could  not  innocently  neglect. 
 
 But  if  the  institutions  of  religion  be  of 
 divine  appointment — if  the  Sabbath  be  a 
 day  consecrated  by  God  to  commemorate 
 the  blessings  of  creation  and  redemption — 
 if  the  sanctuary  be  the  place  in  which  the 
 Almighty  reveals  himself  most  graciously 
 to  his  children — the  duty  recommended  to 
 you  assumes  a  more  solemn  appearance,  as 
 being  enforced  by  that  high  authority  which 
 all  are  bound  to  respect : — Yes,  the  Al¬ 
 mighty  hath  declared,  that  the  institutions 
 of  religion  are  his  appointment.  These  are 
 the  sacred  channels  in  which  his  blessings 
 
 flow. 
 
SERMON  L 
 
 25 
 
 flow.  This  is  the  day  which  he  hath  made  ; 
 and  the  temple  is  the  chosen  scene  in  which 
 he  reveals  himself  most  graciously  to  men. 
 
 Rejoice,  then,  when  it  is  said  unto  you. 
 Go  ye  up  unto  the  house  of  God.  When  he 
 saith,  Seek  ye  my  face  ;  let  your  hearts  re¬ 
 ply,  Thy  face,  0  Lord,  will  we  seek.  Come 
 to  his  house  in  company,  with  the  voice  of 
 joy  and  gladness,  with  the  multitude  that 
 keep  holy  days.  Strength  is  within  his  sanc¬ 
 tuary,  and  there  his  glory  shines.  He  loveth 
 the  gates  of  Zion  more  than  all  the  dwellings 
 of  Jacob.  While  here  we  assemble  our¬ 
 selves  in  his  name,  He  is  in  the  midst  of  us 
 to  bless  us.  From  the  place  in  which  angels 
 worship,  he  bends  his  ear  to  our  prayers, 
 and  smiles  in  mercy  on  those  who  seek  him 
 where  he  hath  promised  to  be  found.  Sui'e- 
 ly  the  Lord  is  in  this  place  /  It  is  good  for 
 us  to  be  here.  This  is,  the  house  of  God.  This 
 is  the  gate  of  heaven. 
 
 ojsi 
 
ON  THE  OMNIPRESENCE  OF  GOD. 
 
 SERMON  II. 
 
 PROVERBS,  XV.  3. 
 
 The  eyes  of  the  Lord  are  in  enery  place^  beholding 
 the  evil  and  the  goof 
 
 P ROPER  apprehensions  of  the  nature  of 
 God  are  the  foundation  of  true  religion  ; 
 and  the  views  which  the  scriptures  give  of 
 this  important  subject  are  the  purest  that 
 were  ever  exhibited  to  the  world.  The 
 idols  of  the  heathen  were  the  creatures  of 
 human  fancy.  They  were  clothed  with  the 
 frailties  and  the  vices  of  mortals ;  their 
 power  was  limited,  and  their  existence  con- 
 hned  within  bounds,  which  the  imagina¬ 
 tions  of  their  votaries  had  prescribed  to 
 them.  The  god  of  the  wood  was  not  the 
 god  of  the  city ;  nor  was  the  god  of  the 
 hill  to  be  found  in  the  vale.  Every  divi¬ 
 nity 
 
SERMON  II. 
 
 ^7 
 
 nity  had  some  department  of  nature  as¬ 
 signed  to  him,  where  alone  his  presence 
 was  to  be  expected,  and  his  influence  im¬ 
 plored. 
 
 Such  conceptions  as  these  were  injurious 
 to  the  majesty  of  the  Creator  of  the  uni¬ 
 verse,  and  irreconcileable,  with  that  order 
 and  harmony  which  his  works  display.  Ac¬ 
 cordingly,  a  few  enlightened  minds  had 
 formed  to  themselves  a  more  rational  sys¬ 
 tem  of  religion :  they  had  endeavoured  to 
 discover  the  one  true  God,  who  governs 
 alone  the  vast  creation,  and  fills  with  his 
 presence  the  immensity  of  space.  The  scrip¬ 
 tures  exhibit  this  important  subject  in  the 
 clearest  point  of  view.  They  represent  the 
 Almighty  as  that  infinite  Being  whom  the 
 heaven  of  heavens  cannot  contain  ;  whose  eye 
 and  whose  presence  are  in  every  place  ; 
 whose  existence  is  boundless  as  the  universe 
 which  he  hath  made. 
 
 This  doctrine  is  calculated  to  elevate  our 
 minds — to  exalt  our  conceptions  of  the  ob¬ 
 ject  of  our  worship — to  improve  our  piety, 
 — and  to  animate  our  obedience. 
 
 But  before  we  consider  its  practical  in¬ 
 fluence,  I  shall  endeavour,  in  the  first  place, 
 
 by 
 
28 
 
 SERMON  11. 
 
 by  the  divine  assistance,  to  illustrate  the 
 doctrine  contained  in  the  text,  the  doc« 
 trine  of  the  universal  presence  of  the  Al¬ 
 mighty. 
 
 The  idea  is  worthy  of  the  greatness  of 
 God.  To  circumscribe  his  existence  within 
 any  bounds  of  spa^:e  would  be  to  detract  from 
 the  infinite  perfection  of  his  nature.  Every 
 created  being  acts  within  a  limited  sphere. 
 In  that  sphere  alone  his  power  is  felt,  and 
 his  influence  acknowledged.  The  more  the 
 sphere  of  his  influence  is  enlarged,  the  more 
 we  conceive  him  to  be  exalted  in  dignity 
 and  power ;  and  if  we  would  conceive  a- 
 right  of  the  perfection  of  our  Maker,  we 
 must  regard  his  influence  as  universal  and 
 boundless  ;  nor  prescribe  limits  to  the  pre¬ 
 sence  of  that  infinite  Being,  who  is  above  alU 
 and  over  all,  and  in  all. 
 
 But  you  need  not  have  recourse  to  these 
 abstract  speculations  to  assure  you  of  the 
 universal  presence  of  God.  Look  around 
 you  to  the  world  in  which  you  live.  Every 
 argument  that  establishes  the  doctrine  of  a 
 Providence,  is  a  demonstration  that  the  Al¬ 
 mighty  is  present  with  his  works.  Contem¬ 
 plate  the  glorious  host  of  heaven !  Behold 
 
 systems 
 
SERMON  II. 
 
 29 
 
 systems  innumerable  continuing  to  revolve, 
 — ^all  of  them  mutually  connected  and  de¬ 
 pendent,  yet  all  uniting  in  proper  harmony ! 
 Mark  the  regular  return  of  the  seasons,  and 
 the  grateful  vicissitude  of  day  and  night ! 
 Consider  the  various  races  of  living  crea^ 
 tures  which  arise  in  succession  to  replenish 
 
 t 
 
 the  earth,  and  the  unceasing  care  with  which 
 their  Creator  provides  for  theit  subsistence 
 and  comfort ! — Behold  all  things  continue 
 unto  this  day,  as  they  were  at  the  beginning, 
 and  proclaim  the  universal  presence  of  God  ! 
 
 Philosophers,  indeed,  have  endeavoured 
 to  discover  some  general  laws  by  which  the 
 world  is  preserved.  Their  researches  are 
 highly  worthy  of  our  attention.  They  en¬ 
 large  our  views  of  the  divine  administra¬ 
 tion,  and  open  new  wonders  and  beauties 
 to  the  religious  eye.  But  what  philosophy 
 hath  denominated  the  course,  and  the  laws 
 of  nature,  are  only  the  appointments  and  the 
 providence  of  God,  to  which  the  name  of 
 a  course  and  laws  are  given  to  denote  the 
 regular  and  uniform  manner  in  which  the 
 Almighty  sustains  and  conducts  the  uni¬ 
 verse.  It  was  He  who  separated  the  jarring 
 elements !  It  was  He  who  hung  up  the 
 
 worlds 
 
30 
 
 SERMON  II. 
 
 worlds  in  the  empty  space  !  It  is  He  who 
 preserves  them  in  their  circles,  and  impels 
 them  in  their  course !  Attraction  is  only  a 
 a  name  to  denote  his  power  ;  and,  w'ere  his 
 presence  and  influence  withdrawn  for  a  mo¬ 
 ment,  all  would  sink  into  confusion  and 
 darkness. 
 
 Nor  is  it  only  in  the  higher  departments 
 of  nature  that  his  presence  is  felt.  Every 
 where  his  inspection  and  care  are  experi¬ 
 enced.  In  the  populous  city,  and  in  the 
 solitary  desert ;  in  the  assemblies  of  the 
 saints,  and  in  their  most  secret  retirements ; 
 amidst  the  noise  of  war,  amidst  the  raging 
 of  the  sea,  amidst  the  tumults  of  the  people ! 
 Wherever  you  are,  whatever  you  do,  what¬ 
 ever  you  enjoy,  whatever  you  suffer,  his 
 eye  is  present  to  mark  your  conduct,  and 
 his  power  is  present  to  assist  or  to  avenge  ! 
 
 So  essential  is  this  attribute  to  the  cha¬ 
 racter  of  a  perfect  Being, — to  the  Creator, 
 the  Preserver,  the  Governor  of  the  world, — 
 that  all  who  have  applied  themselves  with 
 becoming  attention  to  the  study  of  religion, 
 even  those  who  enjoyed  not  the  light  of 
 revelation,  have  concurred  in  ascribing  om¬ 
 nipresence  to  God.  The  scriptures,  in  in¬ 
 numerable 
 
SERMON  ir. 
 
 31 
 
 numerable  passages  confirm  the  doctrine, 
 and  illustrate  it  by  a  variety  of  beautiful 
 images.  The  eyes  of  the  Lord  are  in  every 
 ylace^  beholding  the  evil  and  the  good.  The 
 heaven  of  heavens  cannot  contain  him.  Is  he 
 a  God  at  hand.,  and  is  he  not  a  God  afar  off? 
 Do  not  I  fill  heaven  and  earth?  saith  the 
 Lord.  Though  they  dig  into  heff  thence 
 shall  my  hand  take  them.  Though  they  climb 
 ny  to  heaven,  thence  will  I  bring  them  down. 
 Though  they  hide  themselves  in  the  top  of 
 Carmel,  I  will  search  them  out.  Though  they 
 go  down  to  the  bottom  of  the  sea,  thence  will 
 I  command  the  serpent.  Hell  and  destruc¬ 
 tion  are  open  before  him.  How  much  more, 
 then,  the  hearts  of  the  children  of  men  ! 
 
 I  proceed,  now,  to  set  before  you  the 
 practical  influence  of  the  doctrine  which 
 I  have  thus  endeavoured  to  illustrate. 
 
 I.  In  the  first  place,  the  belief  of  the 
 omnipresence  of  God  will  inspire  and  ani¬ 
 mate  every  pious  affection. 
 
 The  consideration  of  this  infinite  perfec¬ 
 tion  of  our  Maker  cannot  fail  to  impress 
 us  with  that  humility  and  reverence  which 
 'ought  to  mingle  in  all  our  addresses  to  him. 
 
 When 
 
32 
 
 SERMON  ir. 
 
 When  we  contemplate  the  Almighty  as 
 that  boundless  Being  who  fills  with  his  pre¬ 
 sence  the  immensity  of  space, — whose  ex¬ 
 ploring  eye  pervades  the  universe, — marks 
 the  transactions  of  unnumbered  worlds, 
 and  penetrates  into  the  darkest  recesses  of 
 the  heart, — what  awe  and  veneration  ought 
 to  fill  our  breasts ! — It  is  He  that  sitteth  on 
 the  circle  of  the  earth,  and  the  inhabitants 
 thereof  are  as  grasshoppers.  The  nations  are 
 as  a  drop  in  a  bucket :  He  taketh  up  the  isles 
 as  a  very  little  thing.  What  are  we,  then, 
 in  his  sight !  Before  him  we  are  nothing  ! 
 Lord!  what  is  man  that  thou  art  mmdful  of 
 him  ! 
 
 Yet  hath  the  Almighty  encouraged  us 
 to  approach  his  presence  ;  and  the  consi¬ 
 deration  that  he  dwelleth  with  man  on 
 earth,  is  fitted  to  inspire  and  animate  our 
 devotions.  The  angels  of  heaven  who  sur¬ 
 round  his  throne,  they  see  him  as  he  is ;  they 
 behold  his  glory :  their  piety,  fed  by  the 
 presence  of  its  object,  burns  with  a  pure  and 
 ardent  flame.  We  who  dwell  in  this  lower 
 world,  are  destined  to  worship  an  invisible 
 Being.  To  us  the  Almighty  is  encompassed 
 with  clouds  and  darkness.  Behold  we  go 
 
 forward, 
 
SERMON  ir. 
 
 33 
 
 forward,  but  he  is  not  there,  and  backward, 
 but  we  cannot  perceive  him;  on  the  right 
 hand  %diere  he  worketh,  but  we  coriinot  behold 
 him  :  He  hideth  himself  on  the  left  hand  that 
 we  cannot  see  him  ;  and  our  devout  affec¬ 
 tions  are  apt  to  languish  while  the  object 
 of  our  worship  is  concealed  from  our  view. 
 
 But  consider,  my  friends,  though  God 
 be  invisible  to  mortal  eyes,  he  is  not  far 
 from  every  one  of  you.  He  is  present  every 
 where,  throughout  his  vast  dominions,  to 
 listen  to  the  prayers  and  the  praises  of  the 
 faithful — He  beholds  you  at  this  moment 
 assembled  before  him — He  hears  the  voice 
 with  which  I  now  address  you — He  marks 
 the  dispositions  which  you  now  indulge^ 
 He  hearkens  to  the  prayers  which  you 
 prefer  to  heaven,  and  receives  the  praises 
 which,  with  united  hearts,  you  render  to 
 his  name. 
 
 Nor  is  his  inspection  confined  to  the  as¬ 
 semblies  of  the  saints.  He  dwelleth  not  only 
 Til  temples  made  with  hands — He  dwelleth 
 with  the  humble  and  contrite  heart.  Where- 
 ever  you  are,  you  can  at  all  times  worship 
 a  present  God.  Every  pious  emotion  which 
 you  mingle  with  the  ordinary  business  of 
 
 c  life 
 
SERMON  ir. 
 
 tih 
 
 life  is  attended  to  by  him.  His  eye  ob¬ 
 serves  you  when  you  retire  from  the  world 
 - — when  you  enter  into  your  closet  he  is 
 there.  In  the  stillness  of  the  night  he  is 
 around  your  bed.  He  is  there  to  inspire 
 the  musings  of  the  morning.  When  in  the 
 smiling  field  you  admire  his  works,  he  is 
 there  to  receive  your  tribute  of  praise. 
 When  in  the  solitary  vale  where  silence 
 reigns,  your  souls  are  composed  into  a  holy 
 awe ;  even  there  you  can  pour  them  out 
 to  your  Father  in  heaven.  No  darkness  can 
 intercept  from  you  the  light  of  his  coun¬ 
 tenance^  The  night  shineth  as  the  day  / 
 the  darkness  and  the  light  are  both  alike 
 unto  God.  Let  this  consideration  encou¬ 
 rage  your  hearts.  Often  withdraw  your¬ 
 selves  from  the  hurry  of  life,  and  in  the 
 place  of  retirement  hold  communion  with 
 your  Maker.  There,  undisturbed  by  the 
 tumult  of  the  wmrld,  and  undistracted  by 
 its  cares,  your  spirits  shall  ascend  to-  the 
 throne  of  heaven.  Alone  wdth  that  glori¬ 
 ous  Being  who  iiihabiteth  the  praises  of  eter¬ 
 nity.,  to  him  you  shall  disclose,  without  re¬ 
 straint,  the  most  secret  emotions  of  your 
 souls.  You  shall  indulge  affections  to  which 
 
 the 
 
SERMON  II. 
 
 35 
 
 the  world  are  strangers — you  shall  express 
 desires  which  the  world  have  never  felt, 
 and  taste  of  joys  with  which  they  do  not 
 intermeddle.  Your  Father  shall  shed  on 
 you  the  light  of  his  countenance,  and  fill 
 you  with  that  peace  of  God  which  passeth  all 
 understanding. 
 
 II.  In  the  second  place,  the  doctrine  of 
 the  omnipresence  of  God  affords  a  ground 
 of  trust  and  security  to  the  righteous. 
 
 The  eyes  of  the  Lord  run  to  and  fro 
 through  the  earthy  to  show  himself  strong  in 
 behalf  of  the  upright.  Fear  not,  then,  ye 
 righteous,  amidst  the  disasters  of  life.  You 
 have  an  Almighty  Friend  continually  at 
 hand  to  pity,  to  support,  to  defend,  and  to 
 relieve  you. 
 
 Where  can  you  be  placed  beyond  the 
 reach  of  his  power  ?  Though  you  be  left 
 to  languish  in  a  foreign  land,  without  the 
 eye  of  a  friend  to  pity  your  misery,  without 
 the  hand  of  a  friend  to  mitigate  your  pain, 
 without  the  words  of  a  friend  to  solace  your 
 sorrows ;  even  there  you  can  have  recourse 
 to  your  Father  in  heaven ;  in  his  faithful 
 bo.som  you  can  deposit  your  cares,  and  in 
 
 c  2  fhe 
 
36 
 
 SEIIMON  II, 
 
 the  arms  of  his  Providence  you  can  rest  se¬ 
 cure,  Though  you  be  called  to  mingle  in 
 the  scene  of  destruction  ; — though  noise, 
 and  confusion,  and  death  surround  you; — 
 though  thousands  fall  on  every  side -in 
 the  midst  of  the  confusion  the  Almighty 
 dwells.  His  hand  directs  the  thunder  of 
 war  ;  and,  while  his  gracious  providence  is 
 the  shield  of  your  defence,  7W  weapon  that 
 is  formed  against  you  shall  prosper .  Though 
 in  the  midst  of  the  ocean  the  tempest  arise; 
 — though  the  waters  roar  and  be  troubled  ; — 
 though  you  mount  up  to  heaven  on  the 
 swelling  wave,  and  descend  again  into  the 
 depths  of  the  sea  ; — under  the  protection 
 of  the  Almighty  you  are  secure.  The  Lord 
 sitteth  on  the  flood.  The  Lord  is  King  for 
 ever.  He  uttereth  his  voice  to  the  deep.  He 
 commandeth  the  storm,  and  it  is  still.  Over 
 the  earthquake  and  the  pestilence  his  Pro¬ 
 vidence  presides.  The  lightning  wasteth 
 not  till  he  give  it  the  charge. 
 
 In  no  situation  can  the  righteous  be  placed 
 in  which  the  eye  of  their  Father  is  not  pre¬ 
 sent  to  pity;  in  which  the  hand  of  their 
 Father  is  not  present  to  save.  The  injus¬ 
 tice  of  the  world  may  withhold  from  them 
 
 the 
 
SERMON  IT. 
 
 37 
 
 the  approbation  which  is  due  to  their  vir¬ 
 tues  ;  the  tongue  of  slander  may  misre¬ 
 present  their  conduct,  and  load  their  cha¬ 
 racters  with  unmerited  reproach  ;  but  they 
 resort  to  that  God  who  seeth  in  secret ;  to 
 his  righteous  judgment  they  commit  their 
 cause,  and  from  the  sense  of  his  favour  they 
 derive  a  joy  over  which  the  world  hath  no 
 power. 
 
 From  the  bed  of  sickness  they  call  on 
 the  Lord ;  and  when  the  aid  of  every  earth¬ 
 ly  friend  is  vain,  they  find  in  the  Almighty 
 a  help.  In  the  abode  of  poverty 
 
 they  hold  communion  with  him.  Though 
 bereft  of  the  comforts  which  they  once  en¬ 
 joyed,  and  deserted  by  the  companions  of 
 their  happier  days,  in  God  they  have  a 
 friend  whom  no  adversity  can  alienate ;  his 
 presence  forsaketh  not  the  habitation  of 
 the  desolate ;  he  delighteth  to  dwell  with 
 the  upright  in  heart.  Though  they  walk 
 through  the  valley  of  the  shadow  of  death., 
 they  have  nothing  to  fear ;  for  God  is  with 
 them,  his  rod  and  his  staff  they  comfort  them. 
 His  presence  enlightens  the  dreary  region ; 
 his  hand  upholds  their  faltering  steps ;  his 
 spirit  showeth  them  the  path  of  life.  In 
 
 c  3  his^ 
 
38 
 
 SERMON  II. 
 
 his  'presence  there  is  fulness  of  joy ;  at  his 
 l  ight  hand  thei'e  are  pleasures  for  ever  more. 
 
 III.  In  the  last  place,  the  belief  of  the 
 doctrine  of  God’s  universal  presence  ought 
 to  preserve  us  sincere  and  upright  in  the 
 whole  tenor  of  our  conduct. 
 
 The  man  who  lives  under  a  habitual 
 sense  of  his  Maker’s  inspection,  hath  a 
 powerful  argument  continually  before  him 
 to  oppose  to  every  solicitation  of  vice.  He 
 knows  that  the  eye  of  his  Judge  beholds 
 him ;  and  in  so  awful  a  presence  he  trem¬ 
 bles  to  offend.  He  watches  with  care  over 
 his  most  secret  thoughts,  and  is  equally  a- 
 fraid  to  transgress  in  private,  as  in  the  face 
 of  day,  and  in  the  view  of  the  world.  Let 
 this  solemn  truth,  then,  be  deeply  impress¬ 
 ed  on  your  minds.  It  is  a  motive  suited  to 
 every  situation ;  it  is  a  monitor  that  will 
 accompany  you  into  every  scene.  When 
 temptation  is  presented  to  seduce  you  from 
 your  duty, — when  the  absence  of  every  hu¬ 
 man  witness  seems  to  promise  impunity, 
 and  your  treacherous  hearts  are  about  to 
 yield, — consider,  for  a  moment,  ere  you 
 consent  to  guilt.  There  is  a  voice  from 
 
 heaven 
 
SERMON  II. 
 
 heaven  which  whispers  in  your  ears,  the 
 eyes  of  the  Lord  me  in  this  place.  Let  the 
 reflection  impress  your  souls  with  awe,  and 
 check  the  purpose  of  guilt  before  it  be  fifl- 
 iilled. 
 
 The  eyes  of  the  Lord  are  in  every  place. 
 How  fruitless,  then,  ye  transgressors,  are  all 
 your  arts !  In  vain  you  retire  from  the  ob¬ 
 servation  of  men  to  perpetrate  in  secret 
 your  evil  deeds ; — in  vain  do  you  say,  sure¬ 
 ly  the  darkness  of  the  night  shall  cover  us. 
 In  the  presence  of  your  Judge  you  stand 
 revealed.  There  is  no  shadow  of  death 
 where  the  workers  of  iniquity  ean  hide  them¬ 
 selves  from  him.  The  night  shineth  as  the 
 day ; — the  darhiess  and  the  light  are  both 
 alike  unto  God. 
 
 The  eyes  of  the  Lord  are  in  every  place. 
 How  pitiful  then,  ye  hypocrites,  are  all 
 your  arts !  In  vain  you  cover  yourselves 
 with  the  veil  of  deceit ;  in  vain  you  array 
 yourselves  in  the  form  of  godliness ;  in  vain 
 you  adjust  your  words,  your  looks,  and 
 your  actions,  to  attract  the  notice  and  the 
 admiration  of  men.  Their  admiration,  in¬ 
 deed,  you  may  hope  to  obtain ;  for  man 
 secth  only  the  outward  appearance  ;  but  God 
 
 c  4  searchcth 
 
40 
 
 SERMON  II. 
 
 atarclicth  the  hearts.  Beneath  the  veil  which 
 deceives  your  brethren,  he  discerns  the 
 guilt  which  it  is  employed  to  conceal.  He 
 knows  that  your  devotions  are  an  empty 
 form.  He  knows  that  your  prayers  are  a 
 mockery  of  himself.  He  knows  that  the 
 looks  which  you  raise  to  heaven  are  the  de¬ 
 vices  by  which  you  catch  the  inconsiderate 
 multitude,  and  the  instrument  with  which 
 you  devour  the  widow’s  house.  In  his  judg¬ 
 ment  yon  shall  not  stand. 
 
 The  eyes  of  the  Lord  are  in  every  ylace. 
 Rejoice,  then,  ye  righteous,  in  the  presence 
 of  your  God.  His  ear  is  attentive  to  the 
 softest  whispers  of  your  piety.  He  beholds 
 the  generous  purpose  which  you  have  not 
 the  power  to  fulfil.  In  his  sight  your  most 
 private  virtues  are  as  evident  as  those 
 which  the  world  have  admired.  You  need 
 not  the  sound  of  a  trumpet  to  proclaim 
 your  alms  unto  him.  He  knows  that  by 
 you  this  indigent  brother  was  relieved ;  that 
 by  you  this  son  of  affliction  was  comforted. 
 Your  witness  is  in  heaven ;  your  record  is 
 on  high;  in  the  book  of  remembrance  your 
 virtues  are  written  ;  and  they  shall  be  pub¬ 
 lished  to  the  universe  in  that  solemn  season 
 
 when 
 
SERMON  II. 
 
 41 
 
 when  the  hooks  shall  be  opened^  and  the  dead 
 shall  he  judged.  For  God  shall  bring  forth 
 your  righteousness  as  the  light.,  and  your 
 justice  as  the  noon-day. 
 
 m 
 
ON  THE  BENEVOLENCE  OF  CHRIST. 
 
 Preached  at  the  celebration  of  the  Sacrament  of  the  Lord's  Supper., 
 
 SERMON  III. 
 
 EPHESIAXS,  Iir.  19^ 
 
 To  knoxo  the  bve  of  Christ  xvhich  passeth  hioxc-^ 
 
 ledge. 
 
 I N  every  character  which  we  contemplate, 
 we  observe,  for  the  most  part,  some  one 
 prevailing  quality  which  may  be  considered 
 as  its  distinguishing  feature,  and  which  gives 
 to  it  a  peculiar  complexion.  In  the  cha¬ 
 racter  of  Jesus,  indeed,  all  the  virtues  are 
 to  be  found  blended  in  the  happiest  union, 
 and  forming,  by  their  nice  adjustment,  a 
 perfect  pattern  for  our  imitation.  But  it  is 
 the  quality  mentioned  in  the  text,  that  love 
 which  passeth  knouiedge ;  that  pure  and 
 exalted  benevolence  which  appeared  in  the 
 
 whole 
 
SERMON  III. 
 
 43 
 
 whole  of  his  conduct ; — benevolence  in¬ 
 spired  by  piety,  adorned  by  humility,  and 
 expressing  itself  by  all  the  tender  offices  of 
 forbearance,  compassion,  and  kindness ; — 
 it  is  this  chiefly  that  attracts  our  attention 
 in  perusing  the  history  of  his  life,  and  ex¬ 
 hibits  Jesus  to  our  view  as  the  Saviour  and 
 the  friend  of  men.  It  is  a  love  which  pass- 
 eth  knowledge;  for  who  can  explain  or  com¬ 
 prehend  it  in  all  its  infinite  extent  ?  Yet 
 still  it  concerns  us  to  know  it  (as  far  as  we 
 are  capable  of  knowing  it),  if  we  wish  to 
 feel  as  we  ought,  our  obligations  to  so  ge¬ 
 nerous  a  friend,  or  to  form  ourselves  after 
 the  image  of  him  whom  we  profess  to  ac¬ 
 knowledge  as  our  Lord. 
 
 I  purpose  at  present,  therefore,  through 
 the  divine  assistance,  to  consider  the  bene¬ 
 volence  of  Christ  in  several  different  views, 
 and  in  all  these  views  to  recommend  it  to 
 your  imitation. 
 
 I.  In  the  Jii'st  place,  then,  the  love  of 
 .Tesus  was  disinterested. 
 
 Many  of  the  most  splendid  actions  that 
 make  a  figure  in  the  history  of  the  world, 
 have  more  of  the  appearance  than  of  the 
 
 reality 
 
44 
 
 SERMON*  Iir. 
 
 reality  of  virtue.  The  most  careless  eye  is 
 often  able  to  discover  a  variety  of  selfish 
 motives  which  enter  into  the  views  of  the 
 performer,  and  to  perceive  that  what  he  pro¬ 
 fesses  to  do,  merely  for  the  good  of  others, 
 hath  a  reference  chiefly  to  himself.  The 
 liberality  of  one  person  proceeds  from  the 
 desire  of  dazzling  his  brethren  by  an  osten¬ 
 tatious  display  of  his  wealth.  Another 
 aims  at  reputation,  and  employs  the  offices 
 of  kindness  as  the  means  of  advancing  him¬ 
 self  in  the  world.  A  third  looks  forward, 
 with  still  colder  aim,  to  the  return  which 
 he  is  likely  to  receive  from  those  whom  he 
 assists  and  befriends.  In  dispensing  his  fa¬ 
 vours  he  is  regulated  less  by  a  regard  to  the 
 necessities  of  his  fellow-creatures,  than  by 
 the  probability  of  his  obtaining  a  return. 
 He  hesitates,  and  weighs,  and  calculates  with 
 the  same  unfeelingness  of  mind  as  if  he 
 were  conducting  an  affair  of  interest ; — is 
 profuse  of  his  seiwices  to  the  rich  and  the 
 powerful,  sparing  neither  time  nor  labour  by 
 which  he  can  minister  to  their  enjoyment, 
 while'he  neglects  the  miseries  of  the  poor 
 and  the  forlorn,  on  account  of  the  very  cir¬ 
 cumstance  which  gives  them  an  additional 
 
 claim 
 
SERMON  nr. 
 
 45 
 
 claim  to  his  compassion,  because  they  have 
 not  a  friend  on  earth  to  reward  him. 
 
 The  most  splendid  actions  which  we  can 
 perform  deserve  not  the  name  of  benefi¬ 
 cence,  when  they  proceed  from  such  views 
 as  these.  Real  beneficence  flows  from  mo¬ 
 tives  of  a  more  liberal  kind.  It  makes  the 
 case  of  others  our  own.  It  feels  the  claim 
 of  distress  to  be  irresistible ;  and,  aiming 
 only  at  the  good  of  those  to  whom  it  ren¬ 
 ders  its  services,  it  finds,  in  the  exercise  of 
 compassion  and  kindness,  the  recompense 
 which  it  is  most  desirous  to  obtain. 
 
 We  trust  there  are  many  of  you  whose 
 hearts  have  occasionally  yielded  to  the  in¬ 
 fluence  of  such  generous  emotions.  But, 
 would  you. see  benevolence  purified  from 
 every  selfish  motive,  and  displayed  in  all 
 its  glorious  extent,  view  it  in  the  character 
 of  Jesus.  Every  action  of  his  life  flowed 
 from  a  goodness  which  was  divine.  It  was 
 goodness — goodness  alone — that  prompted 
 him  to  undertake  the  office  of  enlightening 
 and  saving  mankind.  Dwelling  in  the  pre¬ 
 sence  of  his  Father,  in  full  possession  of  the 
 bliss  of  heaven,  what  had  he  to  gain  from 
 all  his  labours  of  love  ? — From  men  he 
 
 could 
 
 ✓ 
 
SERMON  IIL 
 
 46 
 
 could  expect  no  return ;  yet  he  had  a  re¬ 
 ward  to  gain,  the  only  reward  that  could 
 influence  a  mind  so  generous  as  his — he 
 had  to  gain  the  pleasure  of  doing  good. 
 Ye  know  the  grace  of  our  Lord  Jesus  Christy 
 who,  though  he  was  richy  for  our  sakes  be-^ 
 came  poory  that  we  through  his  poverty  might 
 be  made  rich. 
 
 And  who  were  they,  my  friends,  for 
 whom  he  left  the  abodes  of  bliss  ?  A  ruin¬ 
 ed,  hopeless  race,  immersed  in  vice  and 
 wretchedness,  among  whom  no  conductor 
 could  be  found  to  restore  them  to  the  path 
 of  life  from  which  they  had  fatally  wan¬ 
 dered.  We  had  not  a  claim  on  his  benefi¬ 
 cence,  save  that  which  misery  creates  ;  nor 
 was  there  a  motive,  but  compassion  the 
 most  disinterested,  that  could  induce  him 
 to  interpose  in  our  behalf.  But  this  motive 
 was  enough  for  him.  When,  from  the 
 height  of  his  glory,  he  saw  the  distresses 
 of  the  earth,  he  needed  no  other  consider¬ 
 ation  to  move  him.  The  scene  of  woe, 
 which  a  less  generous  nature  would  have 
 beheld  with  aversion,  was  peculiarly  invit¬ 
 ing  to  him.  It  was  a  scene  in  which  tlmt 
 love  ivhich  passeth  knoidcdge  might  find  the 
 
 2  ’  most 
 
SERMON  III. 
 
 47 
 
 most  glorious  exercise,  and  he  entered  on 
 it  with  delight  and  exultation. 
 
 The  whole  of  his  ministry  on  earth  was 
 marked  by  the  same  disinterested  love.  The 
 gracious  object  of  his  mission  was  continu¬ 
 ally  present  to  his  mind ;  and  he  pursued  it 
 with  an  ardour  and  zeal,  which  excluded 
 all  concern  about  his  ov/n  personal  advantage 
 or  safety.  If  he  appeared  in  the  humblest 
 station — if  he  chose  his  followers  from  a- 
 mong  the  lowest  of  the  people — if  he  was 
 content  to  wander  through  the  world  des¬ 
 titute  of  every  outward  accommodation — . 
 it  was  that  thereby  he  might  the  more  ef¬ 
 fectually  accomplish  the  purpose  of  his  ap¬ 
 pearance  on  earth.  These  were  so  many 
 glorious  sacrifices  of  his  own  personal  com¬ 
 fort  to  the  happiness  and  the  salvation  of 
 mankind. 
 
 Had  he  been  influenced  by  any  selfish 
 consideration,  there  is  nothing  great  or  de¬ 
 sirable  on  earth  which  he  could  not  easily 
 have  obtained.  He  was  possessed  of  wis¬ 
 dom  which  put  to  silence  all  the  learning 
 of  the  age,  and  invested  with  power  which 
 no  opposition  could  have  for  a  moment 
 withstood.  Yet  these  talents  he  never  em¬ 
 ployed 
 
48 
 
 SERMON  III. 
 
 ployed  as  the  instruments  of  his  own  ag¬ 
 grandisement.  When  at  any  time  he  dis¬ 
 played  his  wisdom,  it  w^as  to  open  to  the 
 eyes  of  men  the  path  to  immortal  felicity. 
 When  at  any  time  he  displayed  his  power, 
 it  was  to  attest  his  mission  from  heaven,  by 
 such  acts  of  compassion  and  kindness  as 
 ministered  even  to  the  earthly  comfort  of 
 those  whom  they  were  intended  to  con¬ 
 vert.  His  miracles  were  deeds  of  kindness 
 flowing  from  the  purest  love.  He  was  su¬ 
 perior  to  every  temptation  from  interest  or 
 ambition.  He  resisted  the  importunity  of 
 the  people  when  they  were  desirous  to  make 
 him  a  king.  He  refused  the  tribute  of  praise 
 from  those  who  shared  in  his  beneficence, 
 teaching  them  to  ascribe  the  glory  of  his 
 actions  to  the  power  of  his  Father  alone. 
 To  himself  he  required  no  return  to  be 
 made.  If  men  would  but  listen  to  his  voice, 
 and  receive  the  truth  that  they  might  be 
 saved,  this  was  the  only  recompense  which 
 Jesus  sought  to  obtain.  He  was  more 
 pleased  with  Mary’s  eagerness  to  reap  the 
 benefit  of  his  instructions,  than  with  all 
 the  anxiety  which  Martha  discovered  to 
 adorn  her  house  for  his  reception  ;  for  he 
 
 ^  came 
 
SERMON  III. 
 
 49 
 
 came  not  to  be  ministered  2tnto^  but  to  mi¬ 
 nister.  In  the  most  distressful  scene  of  his 
 life  he  rejected  even  the  pity  of  his  friends. 
 M^eejj  not  for  me^  ye  daughters  of  Jerusalem^ 
 but  weep  for  yourselves  and  your  children  / 
 The  miseries  which  were  impending  over 
 his  country  were  a  subject  more  affecting 
 to  him  than  all  his  own  personal  sufferings, 
 though  he  had  now  received  the  sentence 
 of  death,  and  was  travelling  under  the  con¬ 
 duct  of  his  enemies  to  the  place  appointed 
 for  his  crucifixion. 
 
 Was  there  ever  love  so  perfect  as  this  ? 
 Ye  who  are  continually  intent  on  your 
 own  interested  projects — who  regulate  al¬ 
 most  every  action  of  your  lives  with  a 
 view  to  some  selfish  end — who,  even  in 
 your  most  prosperous  days,  can  hardly  turn 
 your  thoughts  for  a  moment  from  your¬ 
 selves,  to  consider  what  you  owe  to  your 
 brethren — do  you  call  yourselves  the  fol¬ 
 lowers  of  Jesus  ?  Contemplate  the  charac¬ 
 ter  of  your  Master,  till  that  love  which pass- 
 eth  knowledge  inspire  and  animate  your 
 souls ;  till  your  benevolence  be  gradually 
 purified  from  every  meaner  principle,  and 
 
 I)  become 
 
 \ 
 
50 
 
 SERMON  IIL 
 
 become  of  itself  a  motive  sufficient  to 
 prompt  you  to  every  generous  deed. 
 
 11.  In  the  second  place,  the  love  of  Christ 
 was  universal  love. 
 
 There  are  many  persons  who  feel  strong¬ 
 ly  all  those  particular  affections,  which  are 
 suited  to  any  of  the  nearer  relations  of  life, 
 who  are,  notwithstanding,  total  strangers 
 to  the  sentiment  of  general  benevolence. 
 They  discover  a  warm  attachment  to  some 
 little  portion  of  human  society  with  which 
 they  happen  to  be  more  strictly  united,  to 
 their  family,  to  their  friends,  to  their  party, 
 to  their  country  ;  while  they  view  the  rest 
 of  mankind  with  indifference,  or  perhaps 
 with  detestation. 
 
 Now,  these  particular  affections  are  un¬ 
 doubtedly  proper  in  themselves ;  but  when 
 they  so  completely  engross  our  minds,  there 
 is  always  reason  to  suspect  that  they  pro¬ 
 ceed  more  from  some  secret  reserve  of  self¬ 
 ishness,  than  from  any  real  principle  of 
 virtue.  It  is  their  necessary  connexion  with 
 ourselves  that  gives  our  friends  the  charm 
 in  our  eyes  5  and  it  is  the  union  of  their 
 
 interest 
 
SERMON  Iir. 
 
 51 
 
 interest  with  our  own,  that  renders  us  so 
 zealous  in  promoting  it. 
 
 Real  benevolence  breathes  a  more  liberal 
 spirit.  While  it  is  alive  to  all  those  ten¬ 
 der  sympathies  which  sweeten  the  inter¬ 
 course  of  friends,  it  acknowledges  also  those 
 general  relations  which  unite  the  kindred 
 of  mankind,  and  regards  the  wdiole  human 
 race  as  brethren  one  of  another. 
 
 vSuch  was  the  love  of  Christ.  In  his  j>er- 
 fect  character  we  behold  every  private  at¬ 
 tachment  occupying  its  proper  place,  and 
 directed  to  its  proper  end,  yet  maintaining 
 its  just  subordination  to  a  more  enlarged 
 and  diffusive  benevolence.  As  a  Son  he 
 was  attached  to  his  parents — as  a  Friend  he 
 was  attached  to  his  friends — as  a  Jew  he 
 was  attached  to  his  country.  Recollect  his 
 filial  regard,  while  even  amidst  the  agonies 
 of  crucifixion,  he  commended  his  disconso¬ 
 late  mother  to  the  care  of  the  disciple  whom 
 he  loved — recollect  the  tender  endearments 
 by  which  he  expressed  his  friendship  for 
 John,  and  the  tears  which  he  shed  over  the 
 grave  of  Lazarus — recollect  his  pathetic  la¬ 
 mentation  over  the  fate  of  his  native  land, 
 when  he  looked  forward  to  the  miseries  that 
 
 D  2 
 
 were 
 
52 
 
 SERMON  III. 
 
 were  to  befal  it.  0  Jerusalem^  Jerusalem  / 
 thou  that  killcst  the  prophets^  and  stonest  them 
 that  are  sent  unto  thee,  how  often  would  I 
 have  gathered  your  children  together^  and  you 
 would  not ! — In  every  situation  of  life  Jesus 
 felt  as  it  became  him  to  feel ; — as  a  Son,  as 
 a  Citizen,  and  as  a  Friend.  But  it  was  not 
 within  the  narrow  limits  of  a  family,  a  sectj 
 or  a  kingdom,  that  the  infinite  love  of  Jesus 
 could  find  its  proper  range.  It  was  a  love 
 which  embraced  the  world.  He  saw  the 
 earth  spread  out  before  him  as  a  scene  for 
 the  exercise  of  his  compassion ;  and  he  in¬ 
 vited  all  to  share  in  the  blessings  which  he 
 had  come  to  dispense — He  abolished  those 
 little  distinctions  which  had  hitherto  sepa¬ 
 rated  nation  from  nation — ^He  taught  the 
 Jew  to  consider  the  Samaritan  as  his  bro¬ 
 ther,  and  to  view  the  children  of  the  hea¬ 
 then  as  members  of  the  same  family  with 
 himself — He  unfolded  a  scheme  of  mercy 
 which  was  to  unite  the  whole  human  race 
 in  the  bonds  of  mutual  affection — He  felt 
 for  the  miseries  of  man  in  regions  as  yet  un¬ 
 explored — He  felt  for  the  miseries  that  were 
 to  arise  among  generations  yet  unborn — He 
 felt  for  our  miseries,  my  friends,  who  live 
 
 in 
 
SERMON  III. 
 
 53 
 
 in  this  distant  age ;  and  he  provided  the 
 means  of  our  deliverance.  T.lie  promise  is 
 to  us,  and  to  our  children,  and  to  all  that  are 
 afar  off,  that  in  every  land  they  who  fear 
 God,  and  work  righteousjiess,  may  be  accept-- 
 ed  of  him. 
 
 It  is  owing  to  this  love  which  passeth 
 knowledge,  that  we  are  not  left,  like  the 
 nations  of  old,  to  seek  the  favour  of  God 
 with  anxious  and  fearful  hearts ;  that  we 
 assemble,  as  on  this  day^  to  offer  to  the 
 Father  of  our  spirits  a  holy  and  a  reason¬ 
 able  service ;  to  behold  the  Parent  of  the 
 universe  smiling  in  mercy  on  his  offspring; 
 to  receive  those  pledges  of  his  favour  which 
 are  our  choicest  consolation  on  earth  ;  and 
 to  indulge  the  blessed  hope  of  being  for 
 ever  united  with  him. 
 
 Was  there  ever  love  so  perfect  as  this? 
 Ye  who  confine  your  benevolent  regards 
 within  the  circle  of  your  own  families  and 
 friends— who  suffer  every  little  distinction 
 to  alienate  your  hearts  from  your  fellow- 
 creatures — who  imagine  that  you  have  ful¬ 
 filled  the  law  of  love,  if  you  discharge  your 
 duty  to  those  whom  it  would  be  unnatural 
 and  monstrous  to  neglect — do  you  call 
 
 D  3  yourselves 
 
54 
 
 SERMON  III. 
 
 yourselves  the  followers  of  Jesus  ?  Conteni'i 
 plate  the  character  of  your  Master,  till  your 
 hearts  open  like  his  to  embrace  the  whole 
 kindred  of  mankind ;  till  you  learn  to  feel 
 for  misery,  wherever  it  is  known  on  the 
 earth,  and  to  acknowledge  every  human 
 being  as  a  brother. 
 
 in.  The  benevolence  of  Christ  was  an 
 active  principle. 
 
 There  is  a  certain  indolence  of  mind 
 which  frustrates  the  good  intentions  of 
 many  whose  love  towards  their  brethren 
 is  sincere.  Their  hearts,  it  may  be,  are 
 alive  to  every  kind  and  tender  emotion. 
 When  the  tale  of  distress  is  recorded,  they 
 listen  to  it  with  attention  and  sympathy. 
 The  tear  of  compassion  falls,  and  the  gene¬ 
 rous  wish  is  formed.  But,  here,  their  sym¬ 
 pathy  ends.  The  next  worldly  care  that 
 occurs,  the  next  amusement  that  invites 
 them,  effaces  the  impression  from  their 
 minds  ;  nor  doth  it  avail  the  unhappy  suf¬ 
 ferer  that  his  miseries  have  excited  their 
 pity.  Compassion  is  an  easy  tribute,  which 
 it  requires  only  a  heart  to  render.  It  is  a 
 mere  instinctive  affection,  which  every  pic¬ 
 ture 
 
SERMON  III. 
 
 55 
 
 ture  of  distress  excites  almost  irresistibly  in 
 our  breasts.  The  duties  of  active  benevo¬ 
 lence  are  duties  of  a  more  arduous  kind. 
 They  require  us  often  to  forego  our  own 
 ease  and  happiness — to  endure  fatigue  and 
 trouble — to  visit  the  habitation  of  the 
 wretched — to  act  as  intercessors  for  the 
 friendless — and  to  bear  with  many  a  cold 
 return  from  those  whom  we  solicit  in  their 
 behalf.  But  these,  my  friends,  are  sacri¬ 
 fices  which  all  are  not  willing  to  make  : 
 and  hence  it  is,  that  many  persons,  who  are 
 far  from  being  destitute  of  benevolence,  re¬ 
 main  as  useless  to  themselves  and  to  the 
 world,  as  though  they  had  never  felt  its 
 power. 
 
 The  benevolence  which  is  truly  useful,  is 
 a  vigorous,  active  principle.  It  rests  not  in 
 feelings  and  wishes  ;  it  prompts  to  every  ge¬ 
 nerous  deed.  Such  was  the  benevolence  of 
 Jesus.  The  whole  of  his  life  on  earth  was  one 
 unwearied  labour  of  love.  Read  his  history. 
 — .You  behold  him  continually  employed  in 
 communicating  instruction  to  the  ignorant 
 — in  healing  the  diseases  of  the  sick — or  in 
 ministering  consolation  to  the  sorrowful. 
 Never  did  the  cry  of  distress  reach  his  ear 
 
 D  4  in 
 
SERMON  III. 
 
 56 
 
 in  vain ;  nor  was  it  enough  to  his  generous 
 soul  to  improve  occasions  as  they  offered. 
 He  travelled  from  place  to  place  seeking 
 opportunities  of  beneficence — anticipating 
 the  wishes  of  the  miserable — and  bestow¬ 
 ing,  on  those  who  besought  him,  more  than 
 their  hearts  desired*  He  went  about  conti¬ 
 nually  doing  good.  This  was  his  favourite 
 occupation,  to  which  every  other  consider¬ 
 ation  was  to  yield  ; — for  which  his  own  re¬ 
 pose  and  comfort  were  to  be  disregarded; — 
 for  which  the  pleasures  of  friendship  were 
 to  be  resigned ; — for  which  even  the  rest 
 of  the  Sabbath  was  to  be  broken.  My 
 Father  worketh  hitherto  (saith  Jesus),  and 
 I  work.  His  works  were  works  of  mercy, 
 from  which  his  attention  was  never  for  a 
 moment  diverted.  His  heart  overflowed 
 with  love  ;  and  he  found,  in  every  place, 
 a  proper  scene  for  its  exercise ; — in  the  field 
 and  in  the  city — in  the  house  of  the  pub¬ 
 lican,  and  in  the  temple  of  the  Lord-— his 
 mind  was  equally  bent  on  the  gracious  ob¬ 
 ject  of  his  mission;  nor  were  even  his  hours 
 of  retirement  lost ;  for  it  was  then  that  he 
 unbosomed  himself  to  his  disciples  in  all 
 the  confidence  of  friendship,  and  opened  to 
 
 .  them 
 
SERMON  III. 
 
 57 
 
 them  those  treasures  of  wisdom  and  con¬ 
 solation  by  which  they  were  to  enlighten 
 and  bless  the  world. 
 
 Was  there  ever  benevolence  so  perfect  as 
 this  ? — Ye  who  account  it  a  hardship  to  be 
 roused  from  your  indolence  or  your  plea¬ 
 sures  even  by  the  call  of  pity — ^who  shrink 
 from  the  labours  of  love,  and  think  that 
 you  have  fulfilled  your  duty,  if  you  have 
 offered  to  the  miseries  of  your  fellow-crea¬ 
 tures  the  unavailing  tribute  of  a  tear — do 
 you  call  yourselves  the  followers  of  Jesus  ? 
 Contemplate  his  sacred  character,  till  that 
 love  which  passeth  knowledge  obtain  entire 
 possession  of  your  souls;  till  you  learn,  like 
 the  Master  whom  you  serve,  to  consider  the 
 exercise  of  benevolence  as  the  very  end  of 
 your  being,  and  to  rejoice  in  the  most  ar¬ 
 duous  office  by  which  you  can  minister  to 
 the  happiness  of  a  brother. 
 
 IV.  The  benevolence  of  Jesus  was  a  per¬ 
 severing  virtue. 
 
 In  this  respect,  alas!  our  goodness  is  often 
 miserably  defective.  Observe  the  conduct 
 even  of  the  man  whose  love  towards  his 
 brethren  is  most  sincere.  How  often  are 
 
 his 
 
5H 
 
 SERMON  III. 
 
 his  plans  of  beneficence  defeated  by  the 
 resistance  and  opposition  of  the  world  ! 
 He  possesses,  perhaps,  that  kindness  of  dis¬ 
 position  which  interests  him  deeply  in  the 
 happiness  of  his  fellow-creatures  ; — he  en¬ 
 gages,  with  ardent  zeal,  in  some  work  of 
 usefulness  or  mercy,  and  is  determined  to 
 spare  no  labour  of  his  own  in  prosecuting 
 the  generous  design.  Full  of  the  object 
 before  him,  he  flatters  himself  that  his  ge¬ 
 nerous  intention  will  meet  with  universal 
 approbation  ;  and,  trusting  to  the  encou¬ 
 ragement  and  support  which  he  imagines 
 he  cannot  fail  to  receive,  he  anticipates  the 
 pleasure  which  awaits  him  when  he  shall 
 
 have  accomplished  his  labour  of  love _ 
 
 But,  ere  his  scheme  is  half  completed,  dif¬ 
 ficulties  begin  to  obstruct  him — opposition 
 arises  from  a  quarter  where  he  least  ex¬ 
 pected  it — he  is  mortified  by  the  coldness 
 of  some  from  whom  he  looked  for  a  more 
 liberal  reception — the  selfish  wonder  at  the 
 interest  which  he  takes  in  the  happiness  of 
 others — his  intentions  are  misrepresented 
 by  those  who  seek  an  excuse  for  the  hard¬ 
 ness  of  their  hearts — and  malice  circulates 
 a  suspicion,  that,  under  this  outward  ap- 
 
 appearance 
 
SERMON  III 
 
 59 
 
 pearance  of  humanity,  some  meaner  aim  is 
 concealed.  Overwhelmed  by  the  disap¬ 
 pointment  of  his  hopes,  his  spirit  sinks 
 within  him.  He  abandons  the  generous 
 purpose  which  all  seem  united  to  oppose ; 
 while  he  complains  of  an  unfeeling  world, 
 he  ceases  to  feel  himself ;  and  henceforth 
 he  regards  the  labours  of  love  as  a  vain  and 
 fruitless  toil.  But  the  severest  trial  of  love 
 is  the  ingratitude  of  those  whom  we  have 
 befriended.  It  is  a  trial  which  human  be¬ 
 nevolence  hath  rarely  been  able  to  with¬ 
 stand. 
 
 .  > 
 
 Such,  my  friends,  were  the  trials  to  which 
 the  love  of  Christ  was  subjected  ;  and  here 
 it  obtained  the  victory.  Never  was  affec¬ 
 tion  more  sincere  than  his — never  was  af¬ 
 fection  more  cruelly  despised.  The  world 
 conspired  against  him  ;  yet  he  stood  alone 
 
 in  the  world  firm  and  invincible  in  love _ 
 
 His  doctrine  was  contemptuously  rejected  ; 
 yet  it  was  the  message  of  peace  to  men ; 
 
 and  he  still  continued  to  proclaim  it _ His 
 
 mighty  acts  were  derided ;  yet  they  were 
 acts  of  compassion  and  mercy,  and  he  still 
 continued  to  perform  them. — His  country¬ 
 men  refused  to  acknowledge  him  ;  yet  still 
 
 1  they 
 
00 
 
 SERMON  IIL 
 
 they  were  the  objects  of  his  attachment — ^ 
 still  he  laboured  to  enlighten  and  to  save 
 them ;  and  when,  to  the  last,  they  persisted 
 in  rejecting  him,  he  gave  them  all  that  be¬ 
 nevolence  could  give — he  gave  them  all 
 that  they  were  capable  of  receiving — he 
 gave  them  his  pity  and  his  prayers.  The 
 friend  of  his  bosom  betrayed  him  ;  and,  on 
 this  occasion,  we  are  told  that  Jesus  was 
 troubled  in  spirit.  He  was  troubled— but 
 not  for  himself  j  for  he  declares  that  this 
 was  the  hour  in  which  the  Son  of  God  was 
 glorified.  The  trouble  which  Jesus  felt 
 was  an  emotion  of  the  sincerest  pity,  for 
 the  guilt  of  that  hopeless  traitor  who  was 
 to  deliver  him  into  the  hands  of  his  foes. 
 
 His  foes  at  length  prevailed.  They  led 
 him  to  the  place  of  judgment — they  ex¬ 
 torted  from  the  judge  a  sentence  of  con¬ 
 demnation — they  brought  him  to  the  death 
 of  the  cross.  What  could  benevolence  now 
 suggest  ? — ^When  he  beheld  an  inhuman 
 multitude  adding  insult  to  his  sufferings, 
 even  amidst  the  agonies  of  crucifixion 
 (what  more  could  he  do  ?)  he  acted  as  in¬ 
 tercessor  for  the  guilt  which  neither  his 
 doctrine  nor  his  virtues  had  reclaimed,  and 
 
 commended 
 
SERMON  III. 
 
 61 
 
 commended  those,  who  would  not  pity 
 themselves,  to  the  mercy  of  his  Father  in 
 heaven. — Father  !  forgi'^e  them — they  know 
 7iot  what  they  do. 
 
 Was  there  ever  love  so  perfect  as  this  ? — 
 A  love  which  no  opposition  could  abate — 
 a  love  which  no  ingratitude  Could  extin¬ 
 guish— a  love  which  no  sufferings  could 
 subdue.  Christian,  if  thou  hast  a  heart  to 
 feel,  what  a  scene  is  here  presented  to  kin¬ 
 dle  every  generous  affection !  Even  in  the 
 character  of  a  person  unconnected  with 
 you,  could  you  conternplate,  without  emo¬ 
 tion,  a  benevolence  so  exalted  as  this  ?  But 
 it  is  not  the  character  of  a  person  uncon¬ 
 nected  with  you ;  it  is  the  love  of  Jesus 
 that  is  now  presented  to  your  view — the 
 love  of  the  Master  whom  you  serve — the 
 love  by  which  you  are  redeemed. 
 
 Let  this  love  which  yasseth  knowledge 
 have  its  proper  influence  on  your  minds — 
 let  it  fill  your  breasts  with  admiration — let 
 it  warm  your  hearts  with  gratitude — let  it 
 operate  as  a  spring  of  obedience — let  it  con¬ 
 strain  you  thus  to  judge  ^  that  if  one  died  for 
 all,,  then  were  all  dead  ;  and  that  they  who 
 live  ought  not  henceforth  to  live  unto  them- 
 
 5  selves, 
 
6^ 
 
 -SERMON  III. 
 
 selves^  but  unto  him  who  died  for  iheTih  (tnd 
 who  7'ose  again.  Prove  that  your  admira¬ 
 tion  is  sincere  by  imitating  the  goodness 
 which  you  admire.  Let  the  saine  mind  he 
 in  you  whieh  was  also  in  Jesus  the  Lord. 
 Love  was  the  ornament  of  his  character — 
 love  is  the  fulfilling  of  his  law ;  and  here¬ 
 by  you  know  that  you  are  his  disciples,  if 
 you  love  one  another.  Amen. 
 
 oy 
 
ON  THE  HAPPINESS  ARISING  FROM  THE 
 HOPE  OF  IMMORTALITY. 
 
 SERMON  IV. 
 
 1  CORINTHIANS,  XV.  19. 
 
 JJ  in  this  life  07ily  xve  have  hope  in  Christy  %€& 
 are  of  all  men  most  miserable. 
 
 1  HERE  are  some  commentators  of  consi¬ 
 derable  name,  who  have  carried  the  doc¬ 
 trine  contained  in  this  passage  of  scripture 
 beyond  the  limits  which  the  context  seems  * 
 to  prescribe,  and  drawn  from  it  conse^ 
 quences  which  present  to  us  rather  an  un¬ 
 favourable  view  of  the  Christian  religion. 
 Founding  on  the  apostle’s  assertion  in  the 
 text,  they  have  maintained,  that  setting  a- 
 side  the  hope  of  a  future  existence,  good 
 men  would,  in  this  life,  be  more  miserable 
 than  the  wieked;  and  that,  of  all  good 
 
 men. 
 
SERMON  IV. 
 
 (?4 
 
 men,  the  faithful  Christian  would  be  the 
 most  miserable.  Were  this  the  case,  it 
 would  be  no  easy  task  to  persuade  any 
 thinking  person,  that  the  Christian  religion 
 was  derived  from  a  Being  of  infinite  good¬ 
 ness  ; — a  religion  which  proposed  to  con¬ 
 duct  its  votaries  to  happiness  in  a  future 
 state,  by  rendering  them  more  WTetched 
 here  than  the  most  worthless  of  mankind. 
 But  such  doctrines  have  no  foundation  in 
 the  word  of  God ; — on  the  contrary,  the 
 scriptures  expressly  assure  us,  that  the  god¬ 
 liness  to  which  the  gospel  is  intended  to 
 form  us,  is  profitable  for  all  things^  and 
 hath  the  promise  of  the  life  which  now  isy 
 as  well  as  of  that  which  is  to  come.  It  is 
 true,  indeed,  that  the  precepts  of  Christian¬ 
 ity  impose  a  restraint  on  the  passions  of 
 ”  the  Christian,  and  withhold  from  him  those 
 excessive  indulgences  in  which  the  men  of 
 the  world  riot  without  control.  But  they 
 do  not  debar  him  from  any  innocent  joy ; 
 nor  do  they  abridge  his  happiness  by  the 
 restraints  which  they  impose ;  they  only 
 prescribe  such  limits  to  his  pleasures,  as 
 his  own  self-interest,  if  properly  consulted, 
 would  lead  him  to  observe,  and  teach  him 
 
 to 
 
SERMON  IV. 
 
 65 
 
 to  regulate  his  enjoyments  by  certain  max¬ 
 ims  of  wisdom,  which  render  them  at  once 
 more  safe,  more  satisfying,  and  more  lasting. 
 We  cannot  admit  then,  that,  even  with 
 regard  to  the  present  life,  the  wicked  are, 
 in  fact,  more  happy  than  the  virtuous.  Ex¬ 
 amine,  with  attention,  all  the  circumstances 
 of  the  case,  and  you  will  perceive  that  the 
 ,  very  reverse  of  this  is  the  truth.  Behold, 
 on  the  one  hand,  the  faithful  Christian,  who 
 views  his  comforts  as  the  gifts  of  God — re¬ 
 ceives  them  with  gratitude  to  his  Father 
 in  heaven — and  enjoys  them  with  that 
 moderation  which  sweetens  and  preserves 
 them.  Consider,  on  the  other,  the  careless 
 libertine,  who  listens  to  no  voice  but  the 
 voice  of  passion — who  is  attracted  by  every 
 appearance  of  pleasure,  and  hurries  forward 
 in  pursuit  of  it,  regardless  of  the  dangers 
 which  present  themselves  in  his  way — who 
 prescribes  no  limit  to  his  indulgence,  but 
 that  disgust  which  is  the  fruit  of  excess — 
 
 .  who  wastes  his  health  in  scenes  of  dissipa¬ 
 tion  and  intemperance — persists  in  his  en¬ 
 joyments  till  fliey  lose  their  relish,  and  be¬ 
 comes  a  slave  from  habit  to  the  objects 
 that  have  seduced  him,  alter  they  have  lost 
 
 E  their 
 
66' 
 
 S  E  II  M  O  N  IV. 
 
 their  charms  in  his  eye.  Compare  this 
 tary  of  pleasure  with  the  temperate  Chris-^ 
 tian,  and  supposing  that  the  present  life 
 were  the  whole  of  their  existence,:  say,  which 
 of  the  two  is  the  happier  man  ?  We  main¬ 
 tain,  not  merely  that  the  happiness  of  the 
 Christian  is  purer  and  more  innocent;  we 
 speak  of  pleasure  as  altogether  unconnected 
 with  any  moral  principle ;  and,  even  in 
 this  view,  it  is  evident  that  the  pleasures  of 
 the  Christian  are  better  entitled  to  the  name 
 of  pleasures;-  because  they  are  pleasures  free 
 from  any  mixture  of  pain  or  distress. 
 
 Nor,  even  with  regard  to  his  worldly  in¬ 
 terests,  is  the  Christian  placed  in  more  un¬ 
 favourable  circumstances  than  other  men  ; 
 on  the  contrary,  the  course  of  conduct 
 which  the  gospel  prescribes,  is  the  surest 
 path  to  success  in  every  earthly  pursuit. 
 Were  we  to  offer  directions  for  the  attain¬ 
 ment  of  wealth  and  influence,  w^hat  better 
 means  could  we  suggest  than  these  ^  Be 
 industrious,  be  frugal,  be  temperate,  and 
 study,  by  integrity,  by  gentleness  and  kind 
 affection,  to  secure  the  confidence  and  fa-„ 
 vour  of  all  who  are  around  you  : — and  are  ' 
 not  these  the  very  duties  which,  from  high¬ 
 er 
 
67 
 
 SERMON  IV. 
 
 er  considerations,  the  Christian  is  expressly 
 Required  to  perform  ? 
 
 It  is  true,  indeed,  that  in  endeavouring 
 to  advance  his  worldly  interests^  he  is  de¬ 
 barred  from  using  those  crooked  arts  which 
 the  Unjust  and  fraudulent  will  sometimes 
 employ.  He  dares  not  deceive,  he  dares 
 not  overreach,  he  dares  not  steal.  But 
 his  success  is  not  obstructed  by  these  re¬ 
 straints  of  religion.  The  arts  of  the  wick¬ 
 ed  are  as  unsafe  as  they  are  sinful.  They 
 have  brought  thousands^  in  every  age^  to 
 poverty  and  shame ;  while  there  is  hard¬ 
 ly  one  among  a  thousand  of  those  who 
 have  trusted  to  them  whose  interests  they 
 can  be  justly  said  to  have  promoted.  The 
 fear  of  detection  continually  haunts  the  dis- 
 honest  man,  and  prevents  him  from  enjoy¬ 
 ing  the  advantages  which  he  hath  acquired; 
 for,  however  artful  he  may  fancy  himself 
 to  bcj  he  must  be  fortunate,  indeed,  if  he 
 escape  detection  through  the  whole  of  his 
 life ;  and  he  knows  that  the  discovery  of 
 his  guilt  is  the  ruin  of  his  schemes, — ruin 
 which  will  not  leave  him  even  the  consola¬ 
 tion  of  pity.  There  is  sufficient  room, 
 ■^vithin  the  limits  which  the  gospel  pre- 
 
 E  2  scribes, 
 
6s 
 
 SERMON  IV. 
 
 scribes,  for  enjoying  every  pleasure  that 
 can  be  tasted  with  safety,  and  for  pursuing 
 every  interest  that  is  worth  the  pursuing, 
 by  the  means  which  are  most  likely  to  in¬ 
 sure  us  success.  Nor  ought  it  to  be  consi¬ 
 dered  as  a  hardship,  in  the  case  of  the 
 Christian,  that  he  is  restrained  from  those 
 excesses  to  which  the  inconsiderate  abandon 
 themselves,  or  that  he  is  required  occasion¬ 
 ally  to  interrupt  the  pursuit  of  his  own  pri¬ 
 vate  interests,  for  the  sake  of  what  he  owes 
 to  his  brethren  around  him.  For  such  sa¬ 
 crifices  as  these,  if  they  are  to  be  consider¬ 
 ed  as  sacrifices,  he  is  fully  compensated 
 even  in  the  present  life.  In  the  conscious¬ 
 ness  of  maintaining  the  dignity  of  his  ra¬ 
 tional  nature,  of  acting  as  the  benefactor 
 of  human  society,  and  deserving  the  esteem 
 and  approbation  of  mankind,  he  feels  a 
 satisfaction  infinitely  superior  to  all  the  en¬ 
 joyments  which  this  earth  can  afford ; — a 
 satisfaction,  indeed,  which  is  greatly  in¬ 
 creased  by  the  prospect  of  that  recompense 
 which  the  gospel  promises,  but  which  we 
 must  conceive  to  exist  even  independently 
 of  this  prospect; — a  satisfaction  which  arises 
 from  the  very  constitution  of  human  nature; 
 
 and 
 
SERMON  IV. 
 
 69 
 
 2.nd  which,  while  the  nature  of  man  remain¬ 
 ed  the  same,  would  still  continue  to  attend 
 the  virtuous,  though  they  were  bereft  of  the 
 hope  of  any  future  reward. 
 
 It  appears  from  these  considerations,  that, 
 even  with  respect  to  this  passing  state,  the 
 virtuous  have  a  manifest  advantage  over  the 
 wicked ;  that  Christianity  is  friendly  to  our 
 present  happiness ;  and  that  though,  in  this 
 life  only  we  had  hope  in  Chi  isty  it  would  be 
 our  wisdom  to  live  as  his  religion  prescribes. 
 
 II.  What,  then,  is  the  meaning  of  the 
 apostle  in  the  passage  before  us  ^  hy  doth 
 he  assert,  that,  without  this  hope,  Christi¬ 
 ans  would  be  of  all  men  most  miserable  ? 
 
 It  is  evident  from  the  context,  that  he 
 speaks  not  here  of  the  situation  of  Christi¬ 
 ans  in  general,  but  of  the  particular  cir¬ 
 cumstances  in  which  Christians  were  placed 
 in  the  age  in  which  the  gospel  was  pub¬ 
 lished  to  the  world.  It  is  his  aim,  in  the 
 chapter  from  which  the  text  is  taken,  to 
 establish  the  important  doctrine  of  the  re¬ 
 surrection  of  the  dead.  With  this  view  he 
 has  recourse  to  an  argument  fitted  to  carry 
 conviction  to  every  attentive  mind  ; — an 
 
 E  3  argument 
 
70 
 
 SERMON  IV. 
 
 argument  drawn  from  a  most  striking  fact, 
 which,  while  it  affords  the  most  incontesti- 
 ble  evidence  of  the  possibility  of  a  resur¬ 
 rection,  evinces  also,  beyond  a  doubt,  the 
 authority  of  the  Teacher  by  whom  that 
 doctrine  was  revealed,  even  the  actual  re¬ 
 surrection  of  the  Master  whom  we  serve, 
 as  the  first  fruits  of  them  that  sleep.  Of 
 this  fact  the  apostles  were  destined  to  be 
 the  witnesses  to  the  world ;  and  it  was  ne¬ 
 cessary  that  their  veracity  should  be  ascer¬ 
 tained  beyond  all  suspicion.  For  this  pur¬ 
 pose  Paul  appeals  to  the  circumstances  in 
 which  the  Christians  then  stood,  as  afford¬ 
 ing  the  most  satisfying  evidence  of  their 
 sincerity.  He  reminds  us,  that  they  could 
 have  no  earthly  interest  in  deceiving  the 
 ^vorld  ; — that,  by  the  testimony  which  they 
 gave,  they  had  every  thing  to  lose,  and 
 nothing  to  gain  ; — that,  setting  aside  their 
 hope  of  a  future  existence,  founded  on  the 
 fact  to  which  they  thus  bore  witness,  they 
 were  of  all  men  most  miserable. 
 
 This  statement  of  the  case  is  exactly  con¬ 
 formable  to  truth ;  for  where  shall  we  find, 
 in  the  history  of  the  world,  a  catalogue  of 
 sufferings  so  dreadful  as  those  which  the 
 
 Christians 
 
SERMON  IV. 
 
 71 
 
 Christians  were  now  called  to  endure  ?  Ex¬ 
 posed  to  the  contempt,  the  hatred,  and  the 
 derision  of  mankind — ^tried  by  reproach, 
 and  persecution,  and  torture,  and  death — 
 they  saw  themselves  abandoned  to  every 
 form  of  misery,  without  one  earthly  con¬ 
 solation  remaining  to  support  them.  These 
 were  sufferings  which  nothing  but  a  con¬ 
 viction  of  the  truth  could  have  induced 
 them  to  encounter,  and  which  nothing  but 
 the  hope  of  a  future  recompense  would 
 have  enabled  them  to  sustain.  Their  suf-r 
 ferings,  however,  did  not  arise  from  the 
 nature  of  the  service  which  the  gospel  pre¬ 
 scribes,  or  from  the  practice  of  such  duties 
 as  are  required  of  us  in  these  days  of  peace. 
 They  arose  from  the  peculiar  circumstan¬ 
 ces  of  the  times — from  the  prejudices  and 
 the  vices  of  the  age  in  which  they  lived 
 — from  the  testimony  which  they  gave  to 
 the  resurrection  of  their  Master — a  testi¬ 
 mony  which  no  sufferings  could  induce 
 them  to  withhold,  and  of  which  no  account 
 whatever  can  be  given,  if  in  this  tif^  only 
 they  had  hope  in  Christ* 
 
 That  these  are  the  sufferings  to  which 
 th.e  apostle  refers,  in  the  passage  before  us, 
 
 E  4 
 
 IS 
 
72 
 
 SERMON  IV. 
 
 is  evident  from  the  train  of  his  reasoning 
 through  the  whole  of  this  chapter.  If,  after 
 the  manner  of  men^  (saith  he),  I  fought  with 
 beasts  at  Ephesus,  what  doth  it  profit  ?  What 
 shall  they  do  who  are  baptized  for  the  deady 
 if  the  dead  rise  not  ?  Why^  tJieny  are  we  bap^ 
 tized  for  the  dead?  or  why  stand  we  in 
 jeopardy  every  hour  ? 
 
 According  to  this  interpretation,  the  as¬ 
 sertion  in  the  text  is  not  only  exactly  con¬ 
 formable  to  truth,  but  admirably  adapted 
 to  the  chain  of  argument  of  which  it  forms 
 a  part.  Let  us  beware,  however,  of  ex¬ 
 tending  it  beyond  its  proper  limits,  or  of 
 applying  it  indiscriminately  to  the  situation 
 of  Christians  in  every  age,  as  if  a  faithful 
 compliance  with  the  precepts  of  the  gospel 
 were  destructive  of  our  worldly  interest  and 
 happiness.  The  apostle,  surely,  could  not 
 intend  to  exhibit  so  unamiable  a  view  of 
 Christian  duty.  It  was  not  because  the 
 service  of  his  Master  had  no  charms  in  his 
 eyes — it  was  not  because  the  duties  of  piety 
 to  God,  and  justice  to  mankind,  of  meek¬ 
 ness,  and  temperance,  and  brotherly  love, 
 were  exercises  in  which  his  soul  found  no 
 delight — it  was  not  because  he  deemed  the 
 
 yoke 
 
SERMON  IV. 
 
 73 
 
 yoke  of  Jesus  an  intolerable  burden,  which 
 he  bore  with  reluctance,  and  from  which 
 he  longed  to  be  relieved — it  was  not  for 
 this  reason  that  he  viewed  his  condition  as 
 so  full  of  misery.  No,  my  friends: — the 
 apostle  was  no  such  ungenerous  servant. 
 Obedience  to  his  Master  was  the  joy  of  his 
 life ;  and,  in  the  practice  of  the  virtues 
 which  the  gospel  enjoins,  he  felt  a  satisfac¬ 
 tion  which  he  would  not  have  exchanged 
 for  all*  that  the  world  can  bestow.  The 
 same  is  the  case  with  every  real  Christian. 
 He  considers  his  duty  as  the  happiness  of 
 liis  being  ; — he  loves  it  for  its  own  sake ; — 
 nor,  even  here,  would  he  exchange  condi¬ 
 tions  with  the  wicked,  though  he  had  no¬ 
 thing  to  hope  or  to  fear  hereafter. 
 
 But,  though  we  cannot  admit  that  the 
 precepts  of  Christianity  have  the  smallest 
 tendency  to  abridge  the  enjoyment  of  hu¬ 
 man  life ;  or  that,  even  with  respect  to 
 this  present  world,  the  wicked  have  any 
 real  advantage  over  the  virtuous ;  it  will 
 readily  occur  to  every  considerate  person, 
 that  the  hope  of  immortality,  which  the 
 gospel  opens,  must  form  a  great  accession 
 to  the  happiness  of  the  Christian ; — rand 
 
 I 
 
74 
 
 3ERM0N  IV. 
 
 I  proceed  now  to  show  you,  through  the 
 divine  assistance, 
 
 III  That  there  are  situations  in  which 
 even  the  best  of  men  stand  in  need  of  this 
 hope  to  support  their  virtue, 
 
 I  speak  not  merely  of  those  disappoint¬ 
 ments  in  their  worldly  pursuits,  against 
 which  neither  industsy,  nor  prudence,  nor 
 worth,  can  secure  them.  A  good  man, 
 who  hath  learnt  to  place  his  happiness  in 
 something  very  different  from  mere  world¬ 
 ly  prosperity,  will  hardly  be  overwhelmed 
 by  such  disappointments  as  these.  If  he 
 have  food  and  rairnent,  and  conscious  in^ 
 tegrity,  he  will  still  enjoy  a  contented  mind, 
 In  such  a  situation,  however,  what  a  source 
 of  comfort  is  opened  to  his  soul,  when  he 
 considers  that  his  contentment  and  patience, 
 amidst  the  sufferings  of  life,  are  the  means 
 of  preparing  him  for  the  happiness  of  hea¬ 
 ven  ;  and  that,  though  here  they  should  not 
 procure  for  him  even  the  pity  of  the  world, 
 they  secure  to  him  hereafter  an  everlasting 
 reward. 
 
 Or  suppose,  what  will  sometimes  happen, 
 that  his  virtuous  intentions  are  misrepre¬ 
 sented 
 
/ 
 
 S  E  R  M  O  N  IV.  75 
 
 sented  by  malice — that  his  character  is  ex¬ 
 posed  to  unjust  suspicion — that  he  is  load¬ 
 ed  with  reproach  where  he  merited  re¬ 
 spect; — in  such  circumstances  as  these,  it  is 
 no  small  consolation,  that  he  can  retire  in¬ 
 to  the  sanctuary  of  his  own  breast,  and  so¬ 
 lace  himself  with  the  approbation  which 
 conscience  bestows.  There  is  a  tribunal  in 
 his  heart  to  which  he  can  appeal  from  the 
 decision  of  the  world.  But,  what  unspeak¬ 
 able  comfort  is  infused  into  his  soul,  when 
 he  considers  this  tribunal  as  erected  by  God 
 himself,  and  listens  to  the  voice  of  the 
 Judge  within  as  an  anticipation  of  that  sen¬ 
 tence  which  shall  render  him  h^ppy  for  ever. 
 
 Let  us  view  him,  now,  in  another  situ¬ 
 ation,  Let  us  suppose  that  he  is  wounded 
 in  his  tenderest  affections — that  those  whose 
 welfare  he  was  most  anxious  to  promote, 
 and  for  whom  he  counted  nothing  that  he 
 had  his  own ; — -let  us  suppose  that  they  re¬ 
 quite  him  with  ingratitude — that  they  dis¬ 
 grace  him  by  their  vices,  and  involve  them¬ 
 selves  in  misery  beyond  his  power  to  re¬ 
 lieve.  Amidst  such  distresses  as  these,  which 
 to  a  generous  heart  are  peculiarly  afflicting, 
 it  is  some  consolation  to  a  good  man  that 
 
 he 
 
76 
 
 SERMON  IV. 
 
 he  hath  done  his  duty:  but  his  benevolence 
 is  disappointed  of  its  fondest  earthly  wishes; 
 and,  in  this  situation,  what  else  can  he  do 
 but  maintain  his  trust  in  the  providence  of 
 God,  and  solace  his  soul  with  the  hope  of 
 heaven. 
 
 These,  indeed,  are  miseries  which  more 
 rarely  occur  :  but  there  are  others  which 
 even  the  best  of  men  can  hardly  hope  to 
 escape.  Thou  hast  been  fortunate,  perhaps, 
 in  the  circle  of  thy  friends.  Thou  behold- 
 est  them  prosperous  and  flourishing  around 
 thee.  Their  virtues  and  their  affection  are 
 thy  pride  and  thy  joy ;  and  it  is  thy  daily 
 prayer  that  God  may  preserve  them.  But, 
 alas  I  there  is  nothing  permanent  on  the 
 earth.  Thou  art  destined,  it  may  be,  to 
 see  them,  one  after  another,  torn  from 
 thine  embrace. — Perhaps  it  is  the  chosen 
 confident  of  thy  heart,  into  whose  ear  thou 
 wert  wont  to  pour  the  secrets  that  were  hid 
 from  the  world,  and  whose  sympathy  was 
 the  blessing  of  thy  life  amidst  joys  in  which 
 the  world  could  not  share,  and  griefs  which' 
 the  world  would  not  pity. — Perhaps  it  is  thy 
 parent,  who  was  the  nurse  of  thine  infancy, 
 and  the  guide  of  thy  youth,  and  who  had 
 
 become 
 
SERMON  IV. 
 
 77 
 
 become  the  friend,  the  counsellor,  and  the 
 companion  of  thy  riper  years.— Perhaps  it 
 is  thy  child,  who  was  as  the  apple  of  thine 
 eye,  for  whom  thou  countedst  as  nothing 
 every  anxious  care  ; — whose  opening  mind 
 it  was  thy  delight  to  tutor  ; — whose  growing 
 virtues  thoudids:  contemplate  with  triumph, 
 and  to  whom  thou  trustedsc  as  thy  conso¬ 
 lation  in  thine  evil  days.  Now,  thou  art 
 called  to  lay  him  in  the  grave.  But  canst 
 thou  leave  him  there  ?  Can  thy  heart  bear 
 to  be  divorced  from  him  for  ever  ?  Hath 
 God  provided  no  consolation  for  such  a 
 scene  as  this?  Yes — -Thy  friend,  thy  parent, 
 thy  child,  are  still  alive — they  have  only 
 gone  before  thee  to  the  house  of  their  Father. 
 This  is  the  consolation  which  God  hath 
 provided  for  thee — a  consolation  sufficient 
 to  sustain  thy  soul — the  only  consolation 
 which  thy  heart  can  receive ;  for,  if  in 
 this  life  only  thou  hadst  hope  in  Christy  thy 
 sorrow  would  be  now  without  a  remedy. 
 
 Even  these  sorrows,  however,  will  re¬ 
 ceive  their  cure  from  the  hand  of  time. 
 The  melancholy  jimpression  will  be  effaced, 
 by  degrees,  amidst  the  cares,  the  business, 
 and  the  amusements  of  the  world.  The 
 
 ^  society 
 
SERMON  IV. 
 
 7B 
 
 society  of  other  friends  will  prove  a  healing; 
 balm  to  the  wounded  spirit ;  and  a  good 
 man  will  find,  in  the  discharge  of  the  du¬ 
 ties  which  he  owes  to  the  living,  a  relief 
 from  the  regret  which  he  feels  for  the  dead/ 
 But  there  is  a  scene  before  him,  in  which, 
 without  the  hope  of  a  future  existence, 
 even  his  virtue  itself  will  hardly  afford  hint 
 consolation ;  for  he,  too,  must  die  at  last  j 
 and  what  will  be  his  feelings  in  the  hour  of 
 his  departure  ?  We  shall  suppose  his  virtue 
 as  perfect  as  you  can  conceive  it  to  be — ^ 
 we  shall  suppose  that  he  cafes  not  for  the 
 wealth  which  he  must  now  leave  to  others 
 _ that,  even  from  the  friends  who  are  dear¬ 
 est  to  him,  he  can  bear  to  be  divided — that 
 his  virtue  is  his  chief,  his  only  good,  with 
 which  he  can  be  happy,  though  bereft  of 
 all  besides.*  But  what  shall  now  become  of 
 his  virtue  itself  ? — that  love  of  God  which 
 he  had  so  carefully  cultivated  ? — those  ge¬ 
 nerous  affections  which  it  was  his  delight 
 to  indulge  ? — that  conscious  integrity  which 
 sustained  his  soul  amidst  all  his  other  sor¬ 
 rows  ;  and  which,  till  this  hour,  had  been 
 improving  and  ripening  in  his  breast  ?  Are 
 these,  also,'  all  doomed  to  perish  ?  Is  there 
 
 no 
 
SERMON  ly. 
 
 79 
 
 tio  place  for  virtue  beyond  the  grave  ? 
 Where,  then,  thou  child  of  God,  shait  thou 
 find  a  hope  to  support  thee  ? — Thou  who 
 hast  spent  thy  life  in  subduing  passion,  in 
 resisting  temptation,  and  in  forming. thy' 
 heart  to  piety  and  goodness ; — who  hast 
 persevered  in  well-doing,  till  it  hath  become 
 thy  favourite  occupation,  and  v/hose  hap¬ 
 piness  consists  in  the  service  of  thy  God;-^-^. 
 Is  this  the  end  of  all  thy  labours? — to  be 
 consigned  to  final  annihilation  and  dark¬ 
 ness  ? — to  mingle  in  the  dust  with  the  most 
 worthless  of  mankind  ?  No — Thou  shait 
 not  thus  be  abandoned  to  destruction. 
 There  is  a  place  for  virtue  beyond  the 
 grave.  If  thou  hadst  no  other  ground  on 
 which  to  build  thy  hope  of  immortality, 
 thou  mightest  rest  with  confidence  in  this 
 assurance,  that  thy  Father,  whom  it  is  thy 
 delight  to  love  and  serve,  will  not  banish 
 from  his  presence  a  child  like  thee,  or  say 
 to  thee,  at  the  very  season  when  thou  art 
 most  capable  of  serving  him.  Thou  shall 
 never  love,  nor  sei^e,  nor  know  me  more^ 
 Nature  itself  encourages  us  to  hope  for 
 a  future  existence.  Reason  confirms  this  ' 
 
 beyond 
 
 5 
 
80 
 
 SERMON  IV. 
 
 beyond  the  suggestion  of  nature  ;  and  the 
 religion  of  Jesus  places  it  beyond  a  doubt,  A 
 Messenger  from  heaven  hath  informed  us, 
 that  death  is  not  the  end  of  man.  To  assure 
 '  us  of  the  possibility  of  a  resurrection,  he 
 hath  himself  arisen  from  the  dead.  This 
 fact,  the  pillar  of  our  faith,  is  confirmed  to 
 us  by  the  testimony  of  men,  whose  vera¬ 
 city  is  fully  ascertained^  by  the  sufferings  to 
 which  it  exposed  them ;  and,  henceforth, 
 we  know  assuredly,  that  if  Jesus  died  and 
 rose  again^  even  so  them  also,  that  sleep  in 
 Jesus,  will  God  bring  with  him. 
 
 What  remains,  then,  but  that  we  im¬ 
 prove  this  doctrine  as  a  motive  to  obedi¬ 
 ence— -as  a  support  to  our  virtue  in  every 
 season  of  trial,  and  a  source  of  consolation 
 in  every  scene  of  distress.  Let  us  be  per¬ 
 suaded  to  live  as  the  gospel  requires  ;  and 
 let  us  view  the  duties  which  it  enjoins,  in 
 their  true  and  native  light,  as  the  means 
 of  promoting  our  happiness  even  in  this 
 passing  life.  Though  there  were  no  state 
 beyond  the  present,  the  wicked  have  no¬ 
 thing  to  gain  by  their  vices ;  but,  if  there 
 be  a  state  beyond  the  present,  the  wicked 
 
 have 
 
SERMON  IV. 
 
 81 
 
 \ 
 
 have  much  to  fear.  Virtue  is  the  true  wis¬ 
 dom  of  man.  Godliness  is  profitable  for  all 
 things :  It  hath  the  promise  of  the  life  that 
 now  iS)  and  of  that  also  %Mch  is  to  come. 
 
 ON 
 
ON  THE  FEAR  OF  TtlE  LORJtt. 
 
 SERMON  V. 
 
 PROVERBS,  IX.  10. 
 
 'The  fear  of  the  Lord  is  the  begimimg  of  wisdom. 
 
 HE  fear  of  the  Lord  is  an  expression 
 which  frequently  occurs  in  scripture.  It 
 is  sometimes  used  in  a  very  extensive  ac¬ 
 ceptation,  as  denoting  the  whole  of  piety 
 and  virtue.  It  implies  a  deep  and  serious 
 impression  of  the  existence,  the  perfec¬ 
 tions,  and  the  providence  of  God,  habi¬ 
 tually  maintained  on  the  mind,  and  in- 
 lluencing  the  conduct. 
 
 This  principle,  however,  must  be  care¬ 
 fully  distinguished  from  that  superstition 
 which  debases  the  human  character.  There 
 are  men  of  gloomy  and  timorous  spirits, 
 who  contemplate  perpetually  the  more 
 
 awful* 
 
SERMON  V. 
 
 83 
 
 awful  attributes  of  the  supreme  Being. 
 His  inflexible  justice  and  almighty  power 
 fill  their  breasts  with  continual  terror. 
 They  \aew  him  only  as  a  tyrant  clothed 
 in  wrath,  marking  severely  the  actions  of 
 his  creatures,  and  grasping  the  thunder 
 with  his  mighty  arm>  to  scatter  destruction 
 among  the  subjects  of  his  kingdom.  For 
 every  unavoidable  error  in  their  conduct, 
 they  dread  the  vengeance  of  so  rigorous  a 
 Judge.  To  appease  his  indignation,  they 
 have  recourse  to  a  thousand  painful  ob- 
 servances.  They  deny  themselves  the  most 
 innocent  comforts  of  life — -they  retire  from 
 the  intercourse  of  human  society — they 
 consecrate  their  days  to  darkness  and  sor¬ 
 row,  and  offer  the  servile  homage  of  their 
 miseries  as  a  tribute  to  the  justice  of  their 
 offended  God.  This  is  not  that  fear  of  the 
 Lord  which  is  the  beginning  of  wisdom.  It 
 is  a  v/orship  dishonourable  to  his  infinite 
 goodness,  founded  on  the  most  unworthy 
 conceptions  of  his  nature,  and  destructive 
 alike  of  happiness  and  virtue. 
 
 There  is  an  error,  the  reverse  of  this,- 
 into  which  men  of  sanguine  tempers  arc 
 apt  to  be  betrayed.  Enthusiasts,  exulting 
 
 F  2  in 
 
84? 
 
 SERMON  V. 
 
 in  the  thought  that  they  are  the  peculiar 
 favourites  of  Heaven,  and  contemplating 
 the  Deity  in  those  endearing  characters  in 
 which  the  scriptures,  with  infinite  conde¬ 
 scension,  have  revealed  him  to  human  view; 
 - — enthusiasts  forget  the  reverence  which  is 
 due  to  the  Ruler  of  the  universe  :  they  ap¬ 
 proach  him  with  presumptuous  freedom, 
 pouring  out  in  his  sacred  presence  the  ex¬ 
 travagancies  of  heated  imaginations,  and 
 assuming  a  familiarity  of  address  unknown 
 to  those  exalted  spirits  who  surround  his 
 throne  on  high.  Such  boldness  is  unsuit¬ 
 able  to  the  human  condition.  When  mor¬ 
 tals  venture  to  place  themselves  in  the  pre¬ 
 sence  of  the  Judge  of  worlds,  their  souls 
 ought  to  be  filled  with  awe.  We  have,  indeed, 
 an  advocate  with  the  Father,  even  Jesus  Christ 
 the  righteous;  and  through  him  we  may 
 address  ourselves  to  God  with  humble  con¬ 
 fidence  and  hope.  But  this/  gracious  ap¬ 
 pointment  of  Heaven,  while  it  encourages 
 the  hearts  of  the  faithful,  reminds  us,  that 
 the  object  of  our  worship  is*  encompassed 
 with  holy  majesty,  which  of  ourselves  we 
 are  unworthy  to  approach,  and  teaches  us 
 
 t@ 
 
SERMON  V. 
 
 85 
 
 to  temper  the  ardour  of  our  devotions  with 
 reverence  and  godly  fear. 
 
 Such  are  the  sentiments  of  the  man 
 whose  mind  is  duly  affected  by  the  con¬ 
 templation  of  the  divine  perfections.  His 
 religion  is  equally  remote  from  the  intem¬ 
 perate  fervours  of  enthusiasm,  and  the  ab¬ 
 ject  servility  of  superstition.  He  regards 
 the  Almighty  as  the  greatest,  and,  at  the 
 same  time,  as  the  kindest  of  beings.  From 
 this  view'’  of  the  character  of  God  arises 
 that  mixture  of  reverence  and  love  in  which 
 real  piety  consists.  His  fear  tempers  his 
 love : — his  love  softens  his  fear  ;  and  the 
 homage  which  he  renders  to  the  supreme 
 Being,  is  the  obedience  of  a  dutiful  son, 
 who  at  once  respects  the  authority,  and 
 confides  in  the  goodness  of  his  father. 
 
 I  proceed  now,  through  the  divine  assist¬ 
 ance,  to  suggest  some  considerations,  with 
 a  view  to  recommend  this  sacred  principle. 
 
 I.  Consider,  in  the  first  place,  that  this 
 principle  will  prepare  you  for  discharging 
 in  an  acceptable  manner  the  duties  which 
 you  owe  more  immediately  to  your  Maker. 
 
 There  are  men  who  enter  on  the  most 
 
 F  3  solemn 
 
S6 
 
 SERMON  V. 
 
 solemn  exercises  of  religion  with  the  same 
 indifference  with  which  they  would  engage 
 in  any  ordinary  transaction  of  life.  The 
 God  whom  they  seem  to  adore  is  not  in  all 
 their  thoughts.  Their  prayers  are  merely  the 
 language  of  their  lips,  in  which  their  hearts 
 have  no  concern,  With  the  addresses  which 
 they  prefer  to  the  throne  of  heaven,  a  thou¬ 
 sand  vain  imaginations  mingle ;  and  the 
 world  is  never  more  present  to  their  thoughts, 
 than  when  they  seem  to  be  completely  en¬ 
 grossed  with  the  infinite  perfections  of  their 
 Maker, 
 
 The  worship  of  such  persons  is  a  mock¬ 
 ery  of  God.  It  is  mere  bodily  exercise^  which 
 projiteth  nothing ;  by  which  no  acceptable 
 tribute  is  rendered  to  the  suprerne  Being  ; 
 and  which  leaves  no  salutary  impression  on 
 their  own  souls. 
 
 It  is  the  fear  of  the  Lord  alone  that  can 
 inspire  and  animate  your  devotions.  In 
 proportion  as  his  perfections  fill  your  minds, 
 an  awful  solemnity  will  be  diffused  around 
 the  season  which  you  consecrate  to  piety. 
 The  contemplation  of  his  majesty  and  glory 
 will  compose  your  unsteady  souls,  and  ba¬ 
 nish  every  meaner  thought.  The  world  will 
 
 retire 
 
SERMON  V. 
 
 87 
 
 retire  from  your  view  :  you  will  be  present 
 with  God  alone.  All  the  powers  of  your 
 minds  will  be  collected  ;  nor  will  your  spi¬ 
 rits  dare  to  wander  while  you  solicit  the  ear 
 of  Heaven.  With  reverence  will  you  ad¬ 
 just  your  speech ;  nor  venture,  before  the 
 Searcher  of  hearts,  to  express  a  sentiment 
 which  you  do  not  feel.  The  sense  of  his 
 glorious  presence  will  inspire  a  higher  tone 
 of  adoration — will  give  a  deeper  humility 
 to  your  confessions,  and  add  a  double  fer¬ 
 vour  to  your  prayers.  You  will  bow  your¬ 
 selves  on  your  native  dust,  and  account  it 
 a  privilege,  of  which  you  are  unworthy,  to 
 be  permitted  to  approach  his  throne.  Lord! 
 what  am  1  that  I  should  take  thy  name  with’- 
 in  my  lips  ?  Before  thee  /  am  nothing  !  Thou 
 art  in  heaven^  and  I  am  on  the  ear  th  ;  there’- 
 fore  ought  my  words  to  be  few  :  Let  wilt 
 thou  look  on  the  humble  spirit^  and  revive  me 
 while  I  tremble  in  thy  presence. 
 
 II.  Consider,  in  the  second  place,  that  this 
 principle  will  have  a  most  salutary  influ¬ 
 ence  on  the  whole  tenor  of  your  conduct. 
 
 There  are  men  who  rest  their  conduct 
 on  moral  considerations  alone.  The  native 
 
 F  4  beauty 
 
88 
 
 SERMON  y. 
 
 beauty  of  virtue — a  regard  to  their  own 
 interest  and  reputation,  or  to  the  welfare 
 of  human  society — these  are  the  only  mo¬ 
 tives  by  which  their  minds  are  influenced. 
 Now,  these  motives  have  undoubtedly  con¬ 
 siderable  force.  Religion  condescends  to 
 employ  them  as  an  aid  to  those  more  aw¬ 
 ful  sanctions  by  which  she  binds  the  con¬ 
 sciences  of  men  ;  and  those  persons  are  no 
 friends  to  religion,  who  attempt  to  mag¬ 
 nify  her  peculiar  motives  by  excluding  mo¬ 
 ral  considerations  from  any  share  in  regu¬ 
 lating  their  conduct. 
 
 But,  if  it  be  admitted  on  the  one  hand, 
 that  morality  supports  religion,  it  cannot 
 be  denied  on  the  other,  that  the  obliga¬ 
 tions  of  morality  derive  much  additional 
 strength  from  the  principles  which  religion 
 inspires.  The  dictates  of  reason  and  con¬ 
 science,  considered  as  the  commands  of 
 God,  acquire  thereby  the  force  of  a  law ; 
 the  authority  of  the  lawgiver  is  respected, 
 and  it  becomes  a  powerful  niotive  to  obe¬ 
 dience.  The  sense  of  his  inspection  excites 
 us  to  constant  watchfulness ;  and  the  sanc¬ 
 tions  by  which  his  law  is  enforced,  rousing 
 our  hopes  and  fears  touch  the  great  springs 
 
 of 
 
SERMON  V. 
 
 89 
 
 of  action.  We  consider  our  duty  as  pre¬ 
 scribed  to  us  by  the  infinite  wisdom  of  our 
 Maker  ;  and  we  have  no  room  to  doubt  of 
 its  obligation.  We  feel  ourselves  account¬ 
 able  to  a  righteous  Ruler,  whose  justice  will 
 render  to  us  impartially,  according  as  our 
 works  have  been,  and  reckon  no  labour  too 
 severe  to  be  endured,  in  order  to  secure  the 
 approbation  of  a  Being  from  whose  favour 
 we  have  every  thing  to  hope,  and  from 
 whose  displeasure  we  have  every  thing  to 
 dread. 
 
 There  are  occasions  when  the  other  mo¬ 
 tives  to  virtue  may  lose  much  of  their  in¬ 
 fluence  on  our  minds.  Our  worldly  inte¬ 
 rest,  for  example,  which  generally  accords 
 with  our  duty,  may  sometimes  seem  to  be 
 opposed  to  it.  Opportunities  may  occur  of 
 enriching  ourselves  by  injustice  and  oppres¬ 
 sion,  or  of  promoting  our  advancement  in 
 the  world  by  condescending  to  the  arts  of 
 deceit,  by  flattering  the  vices  of  the  power¬ 
 ful,  or  by  ruining  a  virtuous  name.  In 
 such  circumstances  as  these,  the  man  who 
 acts  merely  from  a  regard  to  present  inte¬ 
 rest  will  be  apt  to  be  betrayed  into  vice. 
 But  he  who  fears  the  Lord  hath  a  higher 
 
 interest 
 
90 
 
 SERMON  V. 
 
 interest  to  pursue  than  any  which  the  world 
 can  present.  He  seeks  to  secure  the  favour, 
 and  to  escape  the  displeasure,  of  the  Al¬ 
 mighty.  In  comparison  of  this  he  despises 
 every  other  interest.  This  is  an  interest 
 which  never  varies — -an  interest  which  ne¬ 
 ver  can  mislead  him;  which  is  always  to  be 
 found  in  one  obvious  path — the  path  of 
 innocence  and  virtue. 
 
 A  regard  to  reputation  is  another  prin¬ 
 ciple  which  is  useful  in  the  conduct  of  life. 
 But  neither  will  this  motive,  in  every  in¬ 
 stance^  be  sufficient  to  maintain  your  in¬ 
 tegrity.  Temptations  may  be  presented  in 
 the  absence  of  every  human  witness ;  and 
 what  will  your  regard  to  character  avail,  when 
 you  are  emboldened  by  the  secrecy  of  the 
 place,  by  the  hope  of  concealing  your  guilt, 
 and  of  escaping  the  reproach  of  the  world  ? 
 It  is  the  fear  of  the  Lord  alone  that,  in 
 such  circumstances  as  these,  can  restrain 
 you  from  the  practice  of  iniquity  ;  for  ye 
 who  are  influenced  by  this  exalted  princi¬ 
 ple,  know,  that  there  is  no  secret  place  to 
 which  the  eye  of  the  Omniscient  doth  not 
 reach — that  with  him  the  night  shineth  as  the 
 day — that  the  darkness  and  the  light  are  both 
 
 alike 
 
SERMON  V. 
 
 9\ 
 
 alike  tiiito  God,  His  presence  supplies  the 
 want  of  every  other  witness ;  and,  under 
 the  sense  of  his  inspection,  your  virtue  is  as 
 secure  when  no  human  eye  beholds  you,  as 
 thQugh  men  and  angels  were  assembled  to 
 mark  and  to  judge  your  conduct.  To  every 
 solicitation  of  vice  you  have  a  powerful  ar^ 
 gument  to  oppose.  The  eye  of  my  Judge 
 beholds  me !  Shall  I  do  this  great  evil,  and 
 sill  against  God  ? 
 
 The  fear  of  man  is  a  temptation  which 
 hath  often  proved  fatal  to  virtue ;  but  he 
 who  fears  the  Lord  is  superior  to  every  other 
 fear.  In  vain  are  the  contempt,  the  cen¬ 
 sure,  or  the  resentment  of  the  world,  threat¬ 
 ened  to  deter  him  from  the  practice  of  his 
 duty,  or  to  betray  him  into  any  forbidden 
 path.  To  him  it  is  a  small  thing  to  be 
 judged  of  men,  or  of  their  judgment.  He 
 despises  their  feeble  wrath,  which  at  most 
 can  occasion  only  a  little  temporary  moles¬ 
 tation.  He  fears  a  higher  power — He  fears 
 that  Almighty  Being  who  wields  the  scep¬ 
 tre  of  the  universe,  to  whose  vengeance  the 
 heavens  and  the  earth  can  minister — Who, 
 by  the  word  of  his  power,  gave  birth  to  the 
 worlds — and  who,  by  the  word  of  his  pow¬ 
 er. 
 
SERMON  V. 
 
 92 
 
 er,  can  dash  them  to  ruin.  He  knows  that 
 the  God  whom  he  serves  can  cause  the 
 wrath  of  man  to  praise  him.  Amidst  op¬ 
 position,  and  reproach,  and  persecution,  he 
 adheres  inflexibly  to  his  duty,  and  counts 
 not  life  itself  too  high  a  sacrifice  to  virtue. 
 Till  1  die  I  will  not  remove  my  righteousness 
 from  me.  Mine  integrity  I  will  hold  fast.,  and 
 will  not  let  it  go.  My  heart  shall  not  reproach 
 me  so  long  as  I  live.  Such  was  the  principle 
 which  animated  the  captives  of  Zion ;  and 
 such  was  the  courage  which  it  inspired — a 
 courage  which  all  the  power  of  Babylon  was 
 in  vain  employed  to  subdue.  0  king  !  we 
 are  not  careful  to  answer  thee  in  this  inatter. 
 The  God  whom  we  serve  is  able  to  deliver  us 
 out  of  thy  hands.  But  be  it  known  unto  thee., 
 0  king  /  that  we  will  not  bow  down  to  thy 
 gods.,  nor  worship  thine  image  which  thou, 
 hast  set  up. 
 
 III.  But  will  not  this  fear  of  the  Lord 
 abridge  the  happiness  of  life  ?  The  impres¬ 
 sion  that  we  act  continually  under  the  in¬ 
 spection  of  an  Omniscient  Judge — will  it 
 not  impose  a  restraint  on  our  conduct  ? — 
 will  it  not  check  the  gaiety  of  our  hearts, 
 
 and 
 
SERMON  V. 
 
 93 
 
 and  diffuse  a  gloom  over  the  whole  of  our 
 existence  ? 
 
 If,  indeed,  the  Almighty  were  a  caprici-* 
 ous  tyrant,  who  delighted  in  the  miseries  of 
 his  creatures — if  the  fear  of  the  Lord  were 
 that  servile  principle  which  haunts  the  minds 
 of  the  superstitious — which  detains  them 
 in  perpetual  bondage,  and  drives  them  to 
 seek  the  peace  of  heaven,  not  by  the  prac¬ 
 tice  of  righteousness,  but  by  observances 
 grievous  and  tormenting  to  their  nature — 
 if  this  were  the  fear  of  the  Lord,  then  you 
 might  complain,  with  justice,  that  the  yoke 
 of  religion  was  severe — you  might  deem  it 
 necessary  to  your  comfort  to  banish  God 
 from  your  thoughts*  But  it  is  a  service  of 
 a  more  liberal  kind  which  the  Ruler  of  the 
 world  requires.  His  laws  are  dictated  by 
 benevolence — They  are  wise  provisions  for 
 the  happiness  of  his  creatures — They  im¬ 
 pose,  indeed,  a  restraint  on  your  conduct ; 
 but  it  is  no  useless  or  arbitrary  restraint. 
 It  is  a  restraint  to  which,  independently  of 
 religion,  prudence  would  admonish  you  to 
 submit.  It  is  not  a  restraint  from  any  in¬ 
 nocent  enjoyment,  but  from  misery,  and 
 infamy,  and  guilt. 
 
 In 
 
94  S  E  R  M  O  N  V. 
 
 In  vain  do  the  irreligious  hope  to  ac-* 
 quire  a  greater  liberty  of  conduct  by  ba¬ 
 nishing  the  Almighty  from  their  thoughts. 
 If,  together  with  the  notion  of  a  God,  they 
 could  banish  also  the  sense  of  goodness — if 
 they  could  silence  the  voice  of  reason,  and 
 stifle  the  suggestions  of  conscience — then, 
 we  admit,  they  would  be  free  from  every 
 restraint  which  religion  or  virtue  impose. 
 Eut  is  this  a  liberty  which  any  reasonable 
 being  can  desire  ? — the  liberty  of  violating 
 the  noblest  principles  of  our  nature  ? — the 
 liberty  pf  degrading  our  character,  and  of 
 indulging  securely  in  practices  destructive 
 of  our  own  true  happiness,  and  the  best  in¬ 
 terests  of  mankind  ^ — No,  my  friends  :  it 
 is,  indeed,  a  salutary  fear  which  restrains  us 
 from  such  practices  as  these ;  for  the  fear 
 of  the  Lord,  while  it  guards  the  virtue  of 
 the  faithful,  delivers  them  also  from  those 
 cares  and  miseries  which  accompany  the 
 variable  aims  and  hesitating  conduct  of  the 
 vicious.  It  gives  a  uniformity  to  their  views, 
 and  a  constancy  to  their  resolutions,  which 
 secures  to  them  the  confidence  of  their  bre¬ 
 thren,  and  inspires  them  with  that  decision 
 of  mind,  than  which  nothing  is  more  con¬ 
 ducive 
 
S  E  li  M  O  N  V.  95 
 
 ducive  to  inward  tranquillity  and  comfort,- 
 With  pleasure  they  contemplate  God  as 
 their  ruler,  their  witness,  and  their  judge  ; 
 for  they  are  conscious,  that,  in  every  action 
 of  their  lives,  they  seek  his  approbation 
 and  favour ;  and  they  know,  that,  under 
 his  wise  administration,  it  shall  ever  be  well 
 with  the  virtuous.  His  perfections,  the 
 foundation  of  their  reverence,  considered 
 also  as  the  guardians  of  their  happiness, 
 become  a  source  of  unspeakable  joy  5  for 
 they  know  that  his  infinite  wisdom  arranges 
 every  circumstance  in  their  lot; — they  know 
 that  his  omniscience  marks,  and  that  his 
 bounty  will  reward  their  virtues,  however 
 despised  by  the  world -they  know  that 
 his  almighty  power  will  defend  them  from 
 every  real  evily  and  secure  to  them  every 
 real  good.  From  the  presence  of  so  great 
 a  Protector  they  derive  a  coufidcnce  of 
 mind  which  enables  them  to  enjoy  their 
 present  comforts  without  the  dread  of  fu¬ 
 ture  ill.  Their  happiness  rests  on  a  foun¬ 
 dation  which  no  earthly  disaster  can  shake. 
 The  Lord  is  their  light  and  their  salvation^ 
 %ehom  shall  they  fear?  The  Lord  is  the 
 strength  of  their  hearts^  of  whom  shall  they 
 
 he 
 
90 
 
 SERMON  V. 
 
 be  afraid  9  The  ar?ns  of  Providence  encirclt 
 them.  In  the  secret  of  God's  pavilion  thep 
 find  themselves  secure.  Their  forlress  is  the 
 rock  of  ages.  They  fear  not  though  the  earth 
 he  removed. 
 
 Thus  I  have  endeavoiired  to  show  you, 
 that  the  fear  of  the  Lord  is  calculated  to  im¬ 
 prove  every  pious  affection — to  confirm  and 
 exalt  your  virtue — and  to  promote  your  hap¬ 
 piness  in  life.  Cherish  in  your  breasts,  then, 
 this  sacred  principle.  For  this  purpose  me¬ 
 ditate  frequently  on  the  works  and  attri¬ 
 butes  of  the  Almighty.  Contemplate  the 
 great  scenes  of  nature,  and  accustom  your¬ 
 selves  to  connect  them  with  the  perfections 
 of  God.  All  vast  and  unmeasurable  objects 
 are  fitted  to  impress  the  soul  with  awe. 
 The  mountain  which  rises  above  the  neigh¬ 
 bouring  hills,  and  hides  its  head  in  the  sky 
 — the  sounding,  unfathomed,  boundless 
 deep — the  expanse  of  heaven,  where  above 
 and  around  no  limit  checks  the  wondering 
 eye — these  objects  fill  and  elevate  the  mind 
 — they  produce  a  solemn  frame  of  spiritj 
 which  accords  with  the  sentiment  of  re¬ 
 ligion _ From  the  contemplation  of  what 
 
 is  great  and  magnificent  in  nature,  the  soul 
 
 O  C?  7 
 
 xiscs 
 
SERMON  V. 
 
 97 
 
 rises  to  the  Author  of  all.  We  think  of  the 
 time  which  preceded  the  birth  of  the  uni¬ 
 verse,  when  no  being  existed  but  God  alone. 
 While  unnumbered  systems  arise  in  order 
 before  us,  created  by  his  power,  arranged 
 by  his  wisdom,  and  filled  with  his  presence 
 - — the  earth  and  the  sea,  with  all  that  they 
 contain,  are  hardly  beheld  amidst  the  im¬ 
 mensity  of  his  works.  In  the  boundless 
 subject  the  soul  is  lost.  It  is  he  who  sitteth 
 on  the  circle  of  the  earthy  and  the  inhabitants 
 thereof  are  as  grashoppers.  He  weigheth  the 
 mountains  in  scales.  He  taketh  up  the  isles 
 as  a  very  little  thing.  Lordy  what  is  man 
 that  thou  art  mindful  of  him  / 
 
 The  face  of  nature  is  sometimes  clothed 
 with  terror.  The  tempest  overturns  the 
 cedars  of  Lebanon,  or  discloses  the  secrets 
 of  the  deep.  The  pestilence  wastes — the 
 lightning  consumes — the  voice  of  the  thun¬ 
 der  is  heard  on  high.  Let  these  appear¬ 
 ances  be  connected  with  the  power  of  God. 
 These  are  the  awful  ministers  of  his  king¬ 
 dom.  The  Lord  reignethy  let  the  j^eople  trem¬ 
 ble.  Who  would  not  fear  theey  0  King  of  na¬ 
 tions  I  By  the  greatness  of  thy  power  thine 
 enemies  are  constrained  to  bow, 
 
 G  Consider 
 
98 
 
 SERMON  Y. 
 
 Consider  the  extent  of  your  Maker’s  go¬ 
 vernment.  It  reaches  to  worlds  of  which 
 you  know  not  the  names.  It  embraces  all 
 the  ages  that  are  past,  and  all  the  ages  that 
 are  yet  toccome.  His  throne  is  established 
 in  righteousness.  His  eye  pervades  the  wide 
 creation.  All  orders  of  beings  are  the  sub¬ 
 jects  of  his  kingdom ;  he  will  render 
 unto  all  according  as  their  works  have  been. 
 
 Anticipate  the  season  when  he  shall  judge 
 the  world,  and  the  glory  and  the  majesty  in 
 which  he  shall  then  be  revealed.  Before 
 him  the  fire  devours.  He  uttereth  his  voice 
 to  the  earth  and  to  the  heavens ; — to  those 
 who  fear  him  the  voice  of  mercy,  but  to 
 the  workers  of  iniquity  the  award  of  wrath. 
 Lord!  vdIw  knowetli  the  power  of  thine  an¬ 
 ger?  It  is  a  fearful  thing  to  fall  into  the 
 
 hands  of  the  living  God _ But,  lest  your  fear 
 
 should  exceed,  turn  to  the  contemplation 
 of  your  Maker’s  goodness.  The  view  of 
 his  goodness  will  support  your  spirits.  It 
 will  furnish  you  also  with  an  additional 
 ground  of  awe  ;  for  it  is  a  goodness  diffu¬ 
 sive  as  the  universe  which  he  hath  made ; 
 — it  is  that  goodness  which  gave  birth  to 
 unnumbered  worlds,  and  by  which  worlds. 
 
 unnumbered 
 
SERMON  V. 
 
 99 
 
 unnumbered  are  gladdened  and  blest ; — it 
 is  goodness  infinite,  which,  while  it  excites 
 our  trust,  mingles  also  reverence  with  the 
 trust  which  it  inspires.  It  is  higher  than 
 heaven — it  is  wider  than  the  earth — it  is 
 broader  than  the  sea.  0  Lord,  how  gi^eat  is 
 thy  goodness  !  With  thee  there  is  mercy  that 
 thou  mayest  be  feared — with  thee  there  is 
 plenteous  redemption  that  thou  mayest  be  had 
 
 -p 
 
 in  reverence. 
 
 G  2 
 
 ON 
 
 % 
 
ON  THE  CONFESSION  OF  THE 
 CENTURION. 
 
 Preached  at  the  celebration  of  the  Sacrament  of  the  Lord’s  Supper. 
 
 SERMON  VI. 
 
 MARK,  XV.  39. 
 
 And  lAien  the  centurion,  which  stood  over  against 
 him,  saxv  that  he  thus  cried,  and  gave  up  the 
 ghost,  he  said,  Truly  this  man  zvas  the  Son  of 
 God. 
 
 The  preceding  part  of  this  chapter  exhi¬ 
 bits  the  most  affecting  scene  of  our  Savi¬ 
 our's  humiliation.  The  enemies  of  Jesus 
 had  at  length  prevailed.  This  was  their 
 hour,  and  the  power  of  darkness.  They 
 had  procured  a  sentence  of  condemnation 
 against  his  guiltless  life,  and  executed  it 
 with  a  barbarity  of  which  the  most  atroci¬ 
 
 ous 
 
SERMON  VL 
 
 101 
 
 ous  offender  would  have  had  cause  to  com« 
 plain.  Their  malice  seemed  now  to  have 
 obtained  a  final  triumph.  Jesus  had  bowed 
 his  head^  and  given  up  the  ghost. 
 
 But,  even  in  this  awful  hour,  God  did 
 not  leave  him  without  a  witness.  In  the 
 season  when  many  of  his  warmest  adherents 
 had  forsaken  him,  and  when  the  faith  even 
 of  the  few  who  remained  was  almost  over¬ 
 whelmed,  there  were  found  some,  among 
 the  spectators  of  this  dreadful  scene,  to  bear 
 witness  to  the  truth  for  which  he  had  dared 
 to  die.  Nor  was  it  the  testimony  of  an  as¬ 
 sociate  that  was  now  given  in  his  behalf. 
 It  was  the  testimony  of  one  who  could  not 
 be  suspected  of  any  partial  attachment. 
 The  centurion,  who  uttered  it,  was  acting 
 by  the  authority  of  the  enemies  of  Jesus, 
 tie  was  the  commander  of  the  guard  which 
 Pilate  had  appointed  to  assist  at  the  cruci¬ 
 fixion.  But  he  had  contemplated  the  whole 
 transaction  with  an  attentive  eye ;  and  the 
 words  which  I  have  read  inform  us  of  the 
 impression  which  it  made  on  his  mind. 
 When  the  centurion^  who  stood  ovei'  against 
 him^  saw  thatJie.  thus  cried  oiit^  and  gave  up 
 
 G  .3  the 
 
102 
 
 SERMON  VI. 
 
 the  ghost,  he  said,  Truly  this  man  was  the 
 Smi  of  God, 
 
 What  was  it  that  extorted  from  him -this 
 extraordinary  confession  ?  What  did  he  see 
 in  this  expiring  Sufferer,  that  he  should 
 speak  of  his  character  in  such  terms  as  these  ? 
 Jesus  had  been  condemned  and  crucified 
 like  others ;  yet  Jesus  crucified  is  the  Son 
 of  God.  There  were  appearances  in  the 
 scene  which  the  centurion  had  contem¬ 
 plated,  to  justify  the  testimony  which  he 
 here  renders  to  Christ ;  and  the  consider¬ 
 ation  of  these  may  serve  to  confirm  our 
 faith.  These  appearances  might  be  the 
 three  following  : — I.  The  fulfilment  of  Pro¬ 
 phecy. — II.  The  conduct  of  Jesus. — III.  The 
 Miracles  by  which  his  death  was  accompa¬ 
 nied. 
 
 I.  In  the  death  of  Christ  the  prophecies 
 were  fulfilled.  The  coming  of  the  Messiah 
 had  been  the  favourite  object  of  Provi¬ 
 dence,  since  the  day  when  iniquity  took 
 possession  of  the  earth.  To  prepare  the 
 way  for  this  auspicious  era,  was  the  aim  of 
 that  dispensation  of  which  Moses  was  ap¬ 
 pointed  the  minister and  of  this  era  the 
 
 wisdom 
 
SERMON  VI. 
 
 103 
 
 wisdom  of  God  had  spoken  hy  the  inoitths 
 of  all  the  yroyhets  who  had  been  since  the 
 world  began.  The  time  at  which  the  Sa¬ 
 viour  was  to  appear — the  circumstances 
 with  which  his  nativity  was  to  be  attend¬ 
 ed — the  nature  of  -  the  kingdom  v/hich  he 
 was  to  establish^the  power  with  which 
 he  was  to  be  invested,  and  the  success  with 
 which  his  labours  were  to  be  crowned — all 
 had  been  prefigured  and  described,  in  a 
 manner  calculated  to  excite  the  liveliest  ex¬ 
 pectation  in  the  minds  of  the  chosen  peo¬ 
 ple.  But  the  condition  which  the  Messiah 
 was  to  assume,  and  the  treatment  which  he 
 was  to  receive  from  his  brethren,  were  not 
 to  correspond  with  the  notions  which  men 
 might  be  apt  to  form  of  a  Messenger  sent 
 from  God.  He  was  to  lead  an  obscure  and 
 indigent  life — to  be  despised  and  persecuted 
 by  his  countrymen — and,  at  last,  to  expire 
 on  the  cross,  a  victim  to  the  cruelty  of  his 
 foes.  How  was  the  faith  of  his  followers 
 to  be  sustained  in  a  scene  so  full  of  sorrow  ? 
 or  where,  amidst  the  ignominy  of  cruci¬ 
 fixion,  were  they  to  discover  the  marks 
 of  that  mighty  Deliverer  by  whom  the 
 world  was  to  be  subdued  and  saved  ?  This 
 
 G  4 
 
 was 
 
104. 
 
 SERMON  VI. 
 
 the  hour  of  trial,  when  the  hopes  of  the 
 disciples  were  in  danger  of  being  extin-r 
 guished ;  but,  in  this  hour  of  trial,  it  had 
 pleased  the  wisdom  of  God  to  provide  for 
 them  peculiar  support.  The  strength  of 
 the  evidence  which  the  sacred  writings  con¬ 
 tain,  was  destined  to  centre  in  an  event  so 
 discouraging  to  the  friends  of  Jesus.  The 
 circumstances  of  his  sufferings  and  death 
 w^ere  foretold  with  a  minuteness  and  par¬ 
 ticularity,  which  are  not  to  be  found  in 
 any  of  the  other  predictions  concerning  the 
 Messiah. 
 
 Place  yourselves  for  a  little,  then,  in  the 
 situation  of  the  centurion — Suppose  him  to 
 have  been  instructed  in  the  writings  of  the 
 prophets,  (as,  from  the  name  which  he  here 
 gives  to  our  Saviour,  he  seems  to  have  been) 
 and  consider  how  his  mind  must  have  been 
 affected  by  the  events  which  he  had  now 
 contemplated.  The  prophets  had  spoken 
 concerning  the  Messiah  in  such  terms  as 
 these — Awake^  0  sword^  against  my  shepr- 
 herd^  saith  the  Lord  of  hosts,  smite  the 
 Shepherd,  and  the  sheep  shall  be  scattered. 
 The  Messiah  was  to  be  despised  and  reject^ 
 ed  of  men  ;^a  man  of  sor  rows,  and  acquaint 
 
 ed 
 
SERMON  VI. 
 
 105 
 
 rd  with  grief.  Even  by  his  brethren  he  was 
 to  be  accounted  a  stranger.  They  were 
 to  weigh  for  his  price  thirty  pieces  of  silver. 
 False  witnesses  were  to  rise  up.  They  were 
 to  lay  to  his  charge  things  which  he  knew 
 not :  yet.,  though  oppressed  and  afflicted^  h^ 
 was  not  to  open  his  mouth.  He  was  to  be 
 taken  from  prison  and  from  judgment.  The 
 objects  were  to  gather  themselves  together 
 against  him — they  were  to  persecute  him  that 
 was  smitten.  They  that  should  see  him  were 
 to  laugh  him  to  scorn.  They  were  to  shake 
 their  heads.,  saying..  He  trusted  in  the  Lord 
 that  he  would  deliver  him — let  him  deliver 
 him  now.,  seeing  he  delighteth  in  him.  In 
 his  thirst  they  ivere  to  give  him  vinegar  to 
 drink.  They  were  to  part  his  garments  a~ 
 nwng  them.,  and  to  cast  lots  upon  his  vesture. 
 The  Messiah  was  to  be  numbered  %mth  trans¬ 
 gressors.  He  was  to  pour  out  his  soul  unto 
 death — to  be  cut  off  from  the  land  of  the 
 living — and  to  make  his  grave  with  the 
 wicked. 
 
 It  was  thus  that  the  prophets  had  spoken ; 
 and  this  was  the  very  scene  which  the  cen- 
 •turion  had  beheld.  To  the  eye  of  man  the 
 scene  was  dark.  But,  in  this  scene,  the 
 
 light 
 
105 
 
 SERMON  VI. 
 
 light  of  prophecy  shone  with  peculiar 
 brightness.  Every  insult  which  the  Sa¬ 
 viour  endured,  served  to  illustrate  the  truth 
 of  his  pretensions.  The  rage  of  his  ene¬ 
 mies  ministered  to  the  triumph  of  his  cause, 
 and  the  ignominy  of  the  cross  was  effaced, 
 while  by  it  the  scriptures  were  fulfilled. 
 This  is  he  to  whom  the  prophets  bore  witJiess 
 —-Truly  this  man  was  the  Son  of  God. 
 
 Nor  was  it  by  the  fulfilment  of  prophecy 
 merely,  that  the  character  of  Jesus  was  asv 
 certained  ;  for,  in  the  second  place, 
 
 \ 
 
 '  -  II.  His  conduct  itself,  on  this  trying  oc^ 
 casion,  was  fitted  to  excite  the  admiration 
 of  every  impartial  observer. 
 
 His  life  had  been  one  uniform  display  of 
 the  purest  and  most  exalted  virtue.  But  it 
 is  adversity  that  brings  the  character  to  the 
 test ;  and,  in  adversity,  the  character  of 
 Jesus  shone  with  a  lustre  which  was  divine. 
 The  centurion  had  beheld  him  in  a  situr 
 tion  in  which  mere  human  fortitude  must 
 have  failed  ;  for  there  is  scarcely  an  evil  in¬ 
 cident  to  the  nature  of  man  to  which  Jesus 
 was  not  then  exposed.  Yet,  amidst  all,  he 
 remained  firm  and  unshaken.  Nor  was  his 
 
 patience 
 
SERMON  VI. 
 
 107 
 
 patience  of .  that  sullen  kind  which  arises 
 from  insensibility  of  soul — that  patience 
 which  philosophy  sometimes  endeavours  to 
 cultivate  by  extinguishing  the  feelings  of 
 nature,  and  suppressing  the  best  affections 
 which  are  implanted  in  the  human  breast. 
 
 Jesus  felt  as  a  man.  When  the  season  of 
 his  sufferings  approached,  he  expressed  his 
 anxiety  at  the  prospect,  and  indulged  the 
 emotions  that  were  natural  in  the  circum¬ 
 stances  in  which  he  was  placed.  But  he 
 suffered  not  his  feelings  to  betray  him  into 
 any  conduct  unworthy  of  his  character. 
 He  instantly  resumed  his  fortitude,  and 
 prepared  himself  for  the  awful  conflict ; 
 and,  from  that  moment,  he  displayed  a 
 constancy  which  neither  sufferings  nor 
 death  could  overcome.  When  Judas,  who 
 had  betrayed  him,  appeared  at  the  head  of 
 a  band  of  soldiers,  Jesus  shrunk  not  from 
 their  approach.  He  advanced  with  intre¬ 
 pid  step  to  surrender  himself  into  the  hands 
 of  his  enemies,  fearless  for  his  own  safety, 
 and  anxious  only  for  his  disciples.  I  am 
 he  whom  you  seek — let  these  go  their  way. 
 When  Peter  drew  his  sword,  and  smote  the 
 high  priest’s  servant,  Jesus  healed  the  wound, 
 
 rebuked 
 
108 
 
 SERMON  VI. 
 
 rebuked  the  rashness  of  his  disciple,  and 
 declared  himself  resigned  to  his  fate.  Put 
 up  thy  sword  into  the  sheath.  The  cup  which 
 my  Father  hath  given  me — shall  I  not  drink 
 it  f — In  the  hall  of  judgment,  before  Herod 
 and  Pontius  Pilate,  he  maintains  the  same 
 constancy  of  soul.  He  stands  collected  in 
 all  the  dignity  of  innocence.  He  disdains 
 to  reply  to  the  charges  which  the  malice  of 
 his  enemies  had  dictated.  He  neither  re¬ 
 proaches  his  accusers,  nor  supplicates  the 
 favour  of  his  judge.  When  he  speaks,  it 
 is  not  to  retract,  or  palliate  the  doctrine 
 which  he  had  delivered  to  the  world  ;  but 
 to  challenge  the  strictest  inquiry,  and  to 
 defy  the  wrath  of  man.  Why  askest  thou 
 me  have  taught  always  in  the  synagogue 
 and  in  the  temple.,  and  in  secret  have  I  said 
 nothing.  Ask  of  them  who  heard  me,  behold 
 they  know  what  1  said.  But,  for  this  cause 
 came  I  into  the  world,  that  I  should  bear  wit¬ 
 ness  unto  the  truth;  and  against  me  you 
 could  have  no  power,  except  it  were  given 
 you  from  above. 
 
 Such  were  the  sentiments  with  which 
 Jesus  met  his  sufferings,  and  which  the 
 centurion  had  seen  displayed  in  a  scene  of 
 
 Still 
 
SERMON  VI. 
 
 lOQ 
 
 Still  deeper  woe.  Place  yourselves,  like 
 him,  before  the  cross  of  Christ — Contem¬ 
 plate  the  conduct  of  Jesus  in  this  awful 
 hour,  and  let  your  minds  yield  to  the  im¬ 
 pression.  Heaven  and  earth  seem  now  to 
 have  conspired  to  prove  that  his  virtue  is 
 invincible.  Pilate  is  at  last  constrained  to 
 pronounce  a  sentence  of  condemnation. 
 At  the  request  of  a  clamorous  multitude, 
 Barabbas  the  robber  is  released,  and  Jesus 
 is  delivered  up  to  be  crucified.  How  for¬ 
 lorn  and  desolate  is  his  condition !  They 
 to  whom  he  was  wont  to  unbosom  himself 
 in  the  hour  of  sorrow,  have  fled  for  safety 
 from  his  presence  ;  and  he  finds  himself  de¬ 
 fenceless  and  forsaken  in  the  hands  of  his 
 merciless  foes.  He  is  assailed  by  every  form 
 of  misery  that  can  overwhelm  the  mind  of 
 man — by  reproach,  and  derision,  and  out¬ 
 rage,  and  shame,  and  torture,  and  death. 
 What  is  hardest  of  all  to  endure — His 
 truth  itself  is  now  exposed  to  suspicion — 
 His  pretensions  seem  to  be  finally  refuted 
 — His  sacred  office  is  blasphemed — and  his 
 enemies,  in  the  insolence  of  victory,  call 
 for  an  evidence  of  his  power  which  cannot 
 
 now 
 
 2 
 
SERMON  VI. 
 
 1  10 
 
 now  be  exhibited. — Thou  that  destroyest  the 
 temple^  and  buildest  it  again  in  three  daySj 
 sate  thyself.  If  thou  be  the  Son  of  Gody 
 come  down  from  the  cross. 
 
 Jesus  was  the  Son  of  God  ;  and  he  evin¬ 
 ced  his  title  to  that  glorious  character,  not 
 by  declining  the  sufferings  by  which  the 
 end  of  his  mission  was  to  be  accomplished, 
 but  by  the  dignity  with  which  he  endured 
 them.  Jesus,  expiring  on  the  cross,  was 
 the  most  glorious  display  of  virtue  that  ever 
 the  world  beheld.  It  was  integrity  triumph¬ 
 ing  over  every  earthly  discouragement ; — 
 it  was  meeknes  serene  amidst  the  most  out¬ 
 rageous  insults  ; — it  was  mercy  smiling  on 
 the  ingratitude  of  men ; — ^it  was  piety  and 
 resignation,  and  trust  in  God,  unsubdued 
 and  unshaken  amidst  sorrows  unutterable. 
 Never,  in  his  most  prosperous  days,  was  the 
 mind  of  Jesus  more  collected,  or  more  pre¬ 
 pared  for  every  generous  office,  than  in  the 
 season  when  his  sufferings  might  have  been 
 expected  to  banish  every  other  thought. 
 The  hour  of  crucifixion  was  the  busiest 
 hour  in  his  life  ; — not  a  moment  of  it  was 
 lost  to  virtue.  His  mother,  and  the  disci¬ 
 ple  whom  he  loved,  experienced  the  tender- 
 1 
 
 ness 
 
SERMON  VI. 
 
 Ill 
 
 ness  of  his  heart.  They  who  were  imbruing 
 themselves  in  his  blood,  shared  in  his  pity 
 and  his  prayers ;  nor  did  he  commend  his 
 spirit  to  his  Father,  till  he  had  fully  ac¬ 
 complished  the  work  which  his  Father  had 
 given  him  to  do.  When  this  work  was  ac¬ 
 complished  he  had  nothing  more  to  detain 
 him.  He  said.,  it  is  finished!  and  he  bowed 
 his  head.,  and  gave  up  the  ghost.  There'  is 
 something  sublime  and  godlike  in  a  mind 
 superior  to  suffering.  It  seems  to  raise  its 
 possessor  to  an  eminence  beyond  the  reach, 
 of  mortal  man  :  we  view  it  with  wonder 
 and  awe.  Such  was  the  spectacle  which 
 the  centurion  had  contemplated  ;  and  such’ 
 were  the  sentiments  which  it  inspired. 
 When  he  saw  that  Jesus  thus  cried.,  and  gave 
 up  the  ghost,  he  said,  Truly  this  man  was  the 
 Son  oj  God.  The  Messiah  concluded  his 
 life  with  a  dignity  suited  to  his  character. 
 He  retired  like  a  conqueror  from  the  field 
 of  victory.  It  was  his  triumph  which  the 
 centurion  beheld ; — a  triumph  which  an¬ 
 gels  contemplated  with  admiration,  and 
 which  (yod  was  pleased  to  celebrate  by 
 wonders  in  the  heavens  and  on  the  earth. 
 For  consider,  in  the  third  place, 
 
 III.  The 
 
112 
 
 SERMON  VI. 
 
 III.  The  miracles  with  which  the  death 
 of  Christ  was  accompanied. 
 
 Jesus  was  a  Messenger  from  God,  and 
 it  was  necessary  that  his  mission  should  be 
 attested  by  some  token  of  the  approbation 
 of  Heaven.  Accordingly,  during  the  course 
 of  his  ministry,  he  confirmed  the  doctrine 
 which  he  taught,  by  evidences  the  most 
 striking  and  illustrious  that  could  be  pre¬ 
 sented  to  the  mind  of  man.  He  proved,  by 
 the  works  which  he  performed,  that  he  was 
 invested  with  power  from  on  high.  His 
 word  gave  health  to  the  sick. — The  spirits 
 of  the  departed  returned  at  his  command. 
 The  elements  of  nature  heard  his  voice, 
 and  acknowledged  themselves  subject  to  his 
 sway.  But  now  he  is  delivered  into  the 
 hands  of  his  enemies,  and  his  power  seems 
 to  be  finally  subdued — He  saved  others^ 
 himself  he  cannot  save^He  trusted  in  God^ 
 let  him  deliver  him  now^  if  in  triitf  he  be 
 the  chosen  of  the  Lord ! 
 
 Shall  the  Messiah  be  thus  abandoned  in 
 the  hour  of  his  deep  distress  ?  Shall  his 
 Father  thus  forsake  him  }  Shall  no  sign  be 
 given  from  above  to  vindicate  his  truth  to 
 the  world,  and  to  support  the  souls  of  the 
 
 faithful 
 
SERMON  VI. 
 
 ]  13 
 
 faithful  when  their  hopes  are  about  to  ex¬ 
 pire?  Yes — A  sign  is  given — the  most  stu¬ 
 pendous  that  ever  was  beheld.  See,  while 
 Jesus  bows  his  head,  the  heavens  are  shrouded 
 in  darkness  !  Beneath,  the  earth  trembles ! 
 By  the  shock  the  rocks  are  rent,  and  the 
 habitations  of  the  dead  are  disclosed  !  What 
 strange  transaction  is  this  by  which  the 
 earth  and  the  heavens  are  moved  ?  It  is 
 innocence  persecuted  by  injustice — It  is 
 innocence  persecuted,  yet  victorious — It  is 
 innocence  triumphing  in  death.  These 
 signs  are  the  seal  of  Heaven,  attesting  the 
 integrity  of  his  character,  and  declaring 
 that  his  life  and  his  death  are  a  sacrifice 
 with  which  the  Father  is  pleased. 
 
 Such  was  the  scene  which  the  centurion 
 had  contemplated,  and  which  drew  from 
 his  astonished  mind  the  confession  contain¬ 
 ed  in  the  text.  This  is  the  scene  w^hich  is 
 soon  to  be  presented  to  your  view  in  the 
 holy  sacrament  of  the  Supper.  There  Jesus 
 is  set  forth  evidently  crucified  before  you.  It 
 is  a  scene  in  w*hich  you  are  deeply  interest¬ 
 ed ;  for  it  was  in  the  hour  when  he  expired 
 on  the  cross,  that  Jesus  redeemed  you  from 
 ruin — restored  you  to  your  Maker’s  favour, 
 
 and 
 
 H 
 
SERMON  VI. 
 
 1  14 
 
 and  purchased  for  you  the  bliss  of  heaven. 
 Let  the  prophecies,  which  in  this  hour  were 
 fulfilled,  and  the  wonders  by  v/hich  it  was 
 distinguished,  be  improved,  for  the  con¬ 
 firmation  of  your  faith.  Rejoice  in  the 
 evidence  which  is  afforded  you  of  the  effi¬ 
 cacy  of  your  Saviour’s  labours,  for  the  re¬ 
 demption  of  our  fallen  race  ;  and  study,  by 
 the  holiness  of  your  lives,  to  show  your* 
 selves  worthy  of  a  Master  who  hath  suffer¬ 
 ed  so  much  for  you.  Contemplate  this 
 glorious  scene,  till  the  sentiments  which 
 the  centurion  expressed  be  indelibly  engra¬ 
 ven  on  your  hearts — till  every  doubt  be 
 banished — till  admiration,  and  gratitude, 
 and  love,  and  every  pious  affection  be 
 kindled — till  the  virtues  which  adorned 
 your  Master  be  thoroughly  transfused  into 
 your  souls — till,  being  plajited  in  the  like¬ 
 ness  of  his  death,  you  be  prepared  to  rise 
 with  him  to  the  joys  of  his  Father’s  pre¬ 
 sence  Amen. 
 
 ON 
 
ON  THE  ASCENSION  OF  CHRIST. 
 
 SERMON  VIL 
 
 LUKE,  XXIV.  50,  51. 
 
 And  he  led  them  out  as  far  as  Bethany  ;  and  he 
 If  ted  up,  his  hands  and  blessed  them  ;  and  it 
 came  to  pass  while  he  blessed  them,  he  was  part¬ 
 ed from  them,  and  carried  up  into  heacen. 
 
 The*  birth  of  Jesus  was  announced  by  the 
 prophets  as  the  advent  of  a  messenger  from 
 Heaven.  But  his  first  appearance  in  the 
 world  exhibits  no  outward  evidences  of  his 
 celestial  origin.  Descended  from  parents  of 
 the  meanest  rank;  born  in  circumstances  the 
 most  pitiable  and  forlorn,  subject  to  all  the 
 infirmities  of  infancy  and  childhood,  and 
 carried  as  an  exile  into  a  foreign  land ;  the 
 human  eye  cannot  discern  in  him  the  marks 
 of  that  illustrious  deliverer  who  was  pro- 
 
 H  2  mised 
 
11(5 
 
 SERMON  VII. 
 
 mised  to  mankind.  During  the  progress  of 
 his  lile  the  same  Wretchedness  and  poverty 
 continue  to  attend  him.  Distinguished 
 by  no  earthly  pomp  or  grandeur,  and  pos¬ 
 sessing  no  certain  place  of  abode,  he  wan¬ 
 ders  despised  through  the  country  of  Judea, 
 pursuing  the  object  of  his  sacred  mission, 
 with  no  other  retinue  than  a  few  faithful 
 disciples,  wdiom  he  had  chosen  for  himself 
 from  among  the  lowest  of  the  people. 
 
 Sometimes,  indeed,  his  glory  shines  forth. 
 While  his  heavenly  discourses  excite  the  ad¬ 
 miration  of  those  who  hear  him,  or  while 
 the  mighty  acts  by  which  he  confirms  his 
 mission,  extort  from  the  spectators  a  con¬ 
 fession  of  his  power,  he  rises  to  our  view  as 
 the  sent  of  God.  But  at  his  death  his  pre¬ 
 tensions  seem  to  be  finally  refuted  ;  and  the 
 faith  of  his  firmest  adherents  sustains  a 
 shock,  while  they  behold  him  in  whom 
 they  trusted,  as  the  Redeemer  of  Israel,  de¬ 
 livered  into  the  hands  of  his  implacable 
 enemies,  and  condemned  to  terminate  a  mi¬ 
 serable  life  by  a  punishment  appropriated 
 to  the  vilest  offenders. 
 
 ^  Had  his  history  concluded  with  this  af¬ 
 fecting  scene,  it  would  have  accorded  ill 
 
 with 
 
N 
 
 ^SERMON  VII.  117 
 
 with  those  splendid  descriptions  of  the  Mes¬ 
 siah’s  character  which  the  ancient  scriptures 
 contain.  But  Jesus  was  yet  to  appear  in 
 all  the  dignity  of  his  nature — The  grave 
 was  to  give  up  a  captive  whom  it  had  not 
 power  to  detain,  and  the  gates  of  heaven 
 were  to  open,  that  the  triumphant  King  of 
 glory  might  enter  into  his  native  abode. 
 
 This  the  prophet  had  foretold  many  ages 
 before.  He  had  seen  in  the  visions  of  the 
 nighty  one  like  the  Son  of  Man  coming  in  the 
 clouds  of  heaven^  and  brought  to  the  ancient 
 of  daySi  to  receive  a  kingdom  and  glory,  that 
 all  people  and  nations  might  ser've  him. 
 
 In  Bethany  the  disciples  beheld  the  fuh 
 filment  of  this  mysterious  prediction  ;  It 
 came  to  jjass,  that  while  Jesus  yet  spake  to 
 thenu  he  was  taken  up  into  heaven,  and  a 
 cloud  received  him  out  of  their  sight.  This 
 was  the  place  in  wdiich  they  had  witnessed 
 some  of  the  deepest  scenes  of  his  humiliation. 
 Here  Jesus  had  felt  that  agony  which  arose 
 from  the  prospect  of  sufferings  the  most 
 dreadful  that  the  human  imagination  can 
 conceive,  and  expressed,  in  repeated  suppli¬ 
 cations  to  God,  the  emotions  of  an  afflicts 
 ed  spirit,  alive  to  the  feeling  of  distress,  yet 
 
 H  3  '  resigned 
 
SERMON  VIE 
 
 lis 
 
 resigned  to  the  will  of  Heaven.  Here  that 
 bitter  cup  was  mingled  for  him,  from  which 
 reluctant  nature  shrunk,  and  of  which  he 
 would  not  have  been  able  to  taste,  had  not 
 the  sense  of  what  he  owed  to  his  sacred 
 duty  inspired  him  with  a  fortitude  more 
 exalted  than  ever  was  displayed  before.  It 
 was  here  that  Judas  had  approached  him 
 with  the  insidious  semblance  of  friendship, 
 and  betrayed  him  by  the  token  of  love, 
 into  the  hands  of  cruel  enemies,  who  had 
 long  thirsted  for  his  blood.  Here  had  com¬ 
 menced  that  train  of  persecution  which 
 had  terminated  only  in  his  death  on  the 
 cross — which  had  shaken  the  constancy  of 
 his  disciples,  and  almost  overwhelmed  their 
 faith. 
 
 But  it  was  a  spectacle  of  a  very  different 
 kind  that  Bethany  was  now  to  exhibit.  The 
 place  where  the  patience  of  Jesus  had  been 
 so  signally  exercised,  was  destined  to  be  the 
 scene  of  his  triumph  ;  and  thither  the  dis¬ 
 ciples  were  conducted,  to  witness  his  ascent 
 to  heaven^  that  they  might  behold  his 
 power  displayed  where  once  it  had  seemed 
 to  be  vanquished,  and  dismiss  every  pain-^ 
 ful  doubt  which  his  sufferings  had  excited  in 
 -  their 
 
SERMON  VII. 
 
 119 
 
 their  minds,  while  they  saw  him  thus  ob¬ 
 tain  a  complete  and  final  victory  over  all 
 the  enemies  of  his  kingdom.  Jesus  had 
 still  one  other  duty  to  discharge.  The  pros¬ 
 pect  of  that  ineffable  glory  into  which  he 
 was  soon  to  be  received,  did  not  render 
 him  unmindful  of  the  friends  whom  he  was 
 about  to  leave  in  the  world.  The  last  of¬ 
 fice  which  he  performed  on  the  earth  was 
 an  act  of  the  most  affectionate  attention  to 
 his  disciples :  He  lifted  up  his  hands  and 
 blessed  them.  His  birth  had  been  announ¬ 
 ced  as  an  event  that  was  to  confer  the  rich¬ 
 est  blessings  on  mankind.  His  life  had  been 
 distinguished  by  the  most  unwearied  endea¬ 
 vours  to  accomplish  this  purpose  of  his  mis¬ 
 sion,  and  he  seemed  now  to  delay  his  re¬ 
 turn  to  the  regions  of  immortal  joy,  only 
 that  he  might  pour  forth  another  effusion 
 of  the  benevolence  which  filled  his  soul : 
 Having  loved  his  otvn,  he  loved  them  to  the 
 end. 
 
 It  is  a  glorious  scene  that  is  here  present¬ 
 ed  to  our  view.  The  disciples  are  assembled 
 around  their  master,  to  receive  the  last  ex¬ 
 pressions  of  his  affection.  The  hands  of 
 Jesus  are  raised  over  their  heads  in  the  pos- 
 
 H  4  tiire 
 
120 
 
 SERMON  Vir. 
 
 ture  of  earnest  supplication.  His  feet  al¬ 
 ready  press  lightly  on  the  mountain,  and 
 the  host  of  angels  are  preparing  the  song 
 of  triumph  to  celebrate  his  return  to  his 
 native  abode.  And  lo  !  while  the  blessing 
 is  yet  proceeding  from  his  mouth,  he  rises 
 insensibly  from  the  earth  ;  as  he  ascends, 
 the  eyes  of  the  apostles  are  fixed  in  silent 
 astonishment  on  a  scene  so  full  of  wonder ; 
 at  length  a  cloud  receives  him,  and  hides 
 him  from  their  enraptured  sight.  What 
 various  emotions  now  mingle  in  the  minds 
 of  the  disciples  ! — Affection  for  so  compas¬ 
 sionate  a  Master,  whose  last  parting  words 
 of  kindness  still  resound  in  their  ears ; 
 amazement  at  so  strange  an  event ;  sorrow 
 for  the  departure  of  a  friend  to  whom  they 
 were  so  warmly  attached,  and  jqy  when 
 they  think  of  the  honour  to  which  he  is 
 now  advanced  ;  ail  conspire  to  fill  and  to 
 agitate  their  breasts.  Their  eyes  had  traced 
 the  path  in  which  their  Master  had  ascend, 
 ed,  and  are  now  irresistibly  fixed  on  the 
 place  where  at  last  he  had  disappeared  from 
 their  view.— Their  hearts  still  continue  to 
 follow  him,  and  their  imaginations,  en¬ 
 livened  by  affection  and  faith,  penetrate 
 -  '  within 
 
 6 
 
SERMON  VIL 
 
 151 
 
 within  the  veil,  to  scenes  which  are  con¬ 
 cealed  from  mortal  sight,  and  dwell  on  the 
 contemplation  of  the  glory  to  which  the 
 Redeemer  was  now  exalted.  While,  full  of 
 such  emotions  as  these,  they  look  stedfastly 
 towards  heaven,  a  vision  is  presented,  which 
 
 banishes  every  doubt  from  their  minds _ 
 
 Two  illustrious  messengers  appear.  The 
 apparel  in  which  they  are  arrayed,  denotes 
 them  inhabitants  of  the  regions  to  which 
 the  Messiah  had  ascended ;  and  their  words, 
 according  with  what  the  disciples  had  seen, 
 afford  them  the  fullest  assurance  of  that  im¬ 
 portant  fact,  on  which  they  were  hence¬ 
 forth  to  rest  their  hopes.  Te  men  of  Galilee^ 
 •why  stand  ye  gazing  into  heaven  ?  This 
 same  Jesus^  which  is  taken  up  from  you  mto 
 heaven i  shall  so  come  in  like  manner  as  you 
 have  seen  him  go  into  heaven.  Their  faith 
 and  their  hopes  were  now  confirmed  :  every 
 ground  of  suspicion  was  removed  ;  the 
 ignominy  of  the  cross  was  effaced,  and  they 
 were  no  longer  left  to  doubt  whether  Jesus 
 waS:  a  messenger  from  God,  while  they  con¬ 
 templated  his  victorious  return  to  the  man¬ 
 sions  of  his  Father’s  house. 
 
 Let  your  minds,  also,  my  friends,  yield 
 
 to 
 
122 
 
 SERMON  VII. 
 
 to  so  rational  a  conviction.  Receive  the  doc¬ 
 trine  of  Jesus  with  full  assurance  of  faith,  and 
 listen  to  it  with  that  attention  and  reverence 
 which  is  due  to  the  revelation  of  heaven. 
 It  is  no  ordinary  messenger  to  whom  you 
 are  exhorted  to  hearken.  He  who  was  in 
 the  bosom  of  the  Fatherj  he  hath  declared  him 
 unto  you.  See,  then,  that  you  refuse  not  him 
 who  speaketh,  for  if  they  escaped  not  that  re^ 
 fused  him  who  spake  on  earth,  how  much 
 more  shall  we  not  escapCi  if  we  turn  away 
 from  him  who  speaketh  from  heaven  ! — Him 
 hath  God  exalted  above  every  name  that  is 
 named,  and  invested  with  sovereign  power 
 to  maintain  the  interests  of  his  kingdom. 
 Vain,  therefore,  is  all  the  opposition  which 
 the  pride  of  science,  or  the  vices  of  the 
 wicked,  can  raise  to  obstruct  the  progress 
 of  his  empire.  Supported  and  cherished  by 
 him,  the  gospel  triumphed  of  old  over  the 
 resistance  of  an  unbelieving  world,  and  its 
 influence  shall  continue  to  increase  while 
 the  sun  and  the  moon  endure.  Jesus  is  des¬ 
 tined  to  reign  till  he  hath  put  all  things  un¬ 
 der  his  feet.  Why,  theiu  do  the  heathen  rage, 
 and  the  people  imagine  a  vain  thing,  to  plot 
 against  the  Lord  and  his  ajiointedf  He  -that 
 
 sitteth 
 
SERMON  VII. 
 
 123 
 
 sitteth  in  heaven  shall  have  them  in  derision. 
 He  hath  set  his  King  upon  the  hill  of  Zion. 
 
 IT.  The  event  which  the’  text  records, 
 while  it  serves  to  confirm  our  faith,  affords 
 ns,  also,  many  precious  sources  of  comfort, 
 amidst  the  cares  and  the  miseries  of  life. 
 
 Art  thou  desirous,  O  Christian !  to  return 
 to  thy  duty  ?  yet  oppressed  by  the  con¬ 
 sciousness  of  guilt,  dost  thou  tremble  to 
 come  unsupported  and  alone,  into  the  pre¬ 
 sence  of  thy  righteous  Judge  ?  For  thee 
 there  are  consolations  in  store.  Jesus,  the 
 High  Priest  of  our  profession,  hath  opened 
 to  his  faithful  followers  a  path  to  the  sanc¬ 
 tuary  of  God.  He  hath  not  entered,  like 
 the  prnests  of  old,  into  the  sanctuary  made 
 with  hands,  hut  into  heaven  itself;  and  hence¬ 
 forth  you  have  an  advocate  with  the  Father, 
 who  is,  also^  the  propitiation  for  your  sins. 
 
 Draw  near  to  him,  then,  with  full  as¬ 
 surance  of  faith — banish  distrust  and  ter¬ 
 ror.  Toil  have  not  received  the  spirit  of  bon¬ 
 dage  unto  fear  ;  but  the  spirit  of  adoption, 
 whereby  you  may  call  him  your  Father.  Y our 
 Saviour  hath  removed  the  veil  from  before 
 the  holiest  of  all  j  he  hath  revealed  to  you 
 
 the 
 
124 
 
 SERMON  Vir. 
 
 the  face  of  God  smiling  graciously  on  his 
 offspring,  and  invited  the  humblest  of  the 
 penitent  to  raise  their  eyes  to  heaven. 
 
 Or  are  your  fears  of  a  different  kind  ? 
 When  you  consider  the  frailty  of  your  na¬ 
 ture,  and  the  temptations  vrhich  every 
 where  surround  you,  do  you  regard  your 
 duty  as  a  task  too  arduous  for  your  feeble 
 powers  ?  and  doth  your  spirit  shrink  from 
 a  warfare  in  which  you  thus  despair  of  suc¬ 
 cess  ? 
 
 Here,  also,  iny  friends,  the  event  which 
 the  text  records,  affords  you  a  ground  of 
 consolation.  When  your  Master  ascended 
 up  on  highy  he  led  captivity  captive^  and  re¬ 
 ceived  gifts  for  men.  He  sent  down  the  pro¬ 
 mised  Comforter  to  dwell  in  the  hearts  of 
 the  faithful,  to  enlighten  them  with  all  use¬ 
 ful  knowledge,  to  subdue  in  them  every  evil 
 passion,  to  quicken  every  languid  vfftue, 
 and  to  lead  them  forward  to  the  perfection 
 after  which  he  had  taught  them  to  aspire. 
 From  the  place  to  which  he  is  now  exalted, 
 his  eye  beholds  you  with  pity,  and  his 
 power  is  ever  present  to  help  you  in  the 
 
 time  of  need _ Never  shall  you  be  deserted 
 
 by  him.  Be  not  wanting  to  yourselves — Be 
 
 of 
 
SERMON  VII. 
 
 125 
 
 of  good  courage,  and  he  will  strengthen  your 
 hearts  :  Tea,  he  will  uphold  you  by  the  right 
 hand  of  his  righteousness :  For,  lo !  he  is 
 with  you  always,  even  unto  the  end  of  the 
 world. 
 
 There  is  an  event  before  you,  however, 
 in  which  you  will  need  other  grounds  of 
 consolation.  For  here,  my  friends,  you 
 have  no  continuing  city.  The  death  of 
 your  companions  and  your  friends,  and 
 the  decay  of  every  thing  around  you,  re¬ 
 mind  you  that  you  also  must  soon  retire 
 from  the  world.'  Eat  be  not  dismayed,  ye 
 that  believe  in  Jesus  !  When  your  eyes 
 shall  have  closed  on  this  earthly  scene,  there 
 are  other  regions  prepared  to  receive  you. 
 Your  Saviour  hath  disclosed  to  your  view 
 the  mansions  of  }  our  Father’s  house.  Thi¬ 
 ther  he  hath  gone  himself  to  prepare  your 
 eternal  abode. — There,  invested  with  im¬ 
 mortal  glory,  the  reward  of  his  sufferings 
 and  his  virtues,  he  beholds  your  inviolable 
 integrity  amidst  the  toils  and  the  duties  of 
 life  ;  and  thence  his  voice  is  heard,  exhort¬ 
 ing  you  to  follow  his  footsteps,  and  inviting 
 you  to  share  in  the  honours  with  which  his 
 obedience  hath  been  crowned.  To  him  that 
 
 overcometh  * 
 
SERMON  VII. 
 
 UG 
 
 overcometh  will  I  grant  to  sit  down  with  me 
 on  my  throne^  even  as  1,  also^  have  overcome^ 
 and  am  set  dovvn  with  my  Father  on  his 
 throne.  Blessed  are  they  that  do  the  com- 
 mand^nents,,  that  they  may  have  a  right  to  the 
 tree  of  life,,  and  may  enter  in  through  the  gate 
 into  the  city, 
 
 III.  Let  the  consideration  of  your  Mas¬ 
 ter’s  ascension  raise  your  souls  above  the 
 world.  No  longer  let  your  affections  be 
 chained  to  this  fleeting  scene  of  things — 
 Often  direct  your  eyes  to  the  place  to  which 
 Jesus  hath  gone  before  you,  to  contemplate 
 the  ineffable  majesty  in  which  he  is  there 
 arrayed,  to  indulge  the  gratitude  and  love 
 which  you  owe  to  so  generous  a  friend,  and 
 to  solace  yourselves  with  the  pleasing  hope 
 of  dwelling  for  ever  with  him. — Henceforth 
 let  your  conversation  be  in  heaven,  from, 
 whence  you  look  for  the  Saviour,  But  rest 
 not  in  fruitless  contemplation.  Study,  by 
 the  faithful  discharge  of  the  duties  which 
 your  Master  hath  enjoined,  to  prepare 
 yourselves  for  that  solemn  season  when  he 
 shall  appear  as  the  Judge  of  the  world.  Re¬ 
 member,  that  the  ascension  of  Jesus  is  the 
 
 pledge 
 
SERMON  VII. 
 
 127 
 
 pledge  of  his  second  coming.  This  was  the 
 admonition  which  was  delivered  of  old  to 
 the  apostles.  The  voice  of  an  angel  called 
 them  from  contemplating  the  most  glorious 
 scene  that  ever  was  beheld  by  mortals,  to 
 enter  again  on  the  work  which  their  Mas¬ 
 ter  had  given  them  to  do. — JTe  men  of  Gali¬ 
 lee,  why  stand  ye  gazing  up  into  heaven  P 
 This  same  Jesus,  who  is  taken  up  from  you 
 into  heaven,  shall  so  come  in  like  manner  as 
 you  have  seen  him  go  into  heaven.  Yes, 
 Christians,  the  heavens  have  received  Jesus 
 till  the  time  of  the  restitution  of  all  things. 
 But  when  that  important  aera  shall  arrive, 
 Jesus  shall  come  again  in  all  his  native  glory, 
 — He  shall  come  in  the  clouds  of  heaven, 
 attended  by  hosts  of  angels,  the  willing  mi¬ 
 nisters  of  his  kingdom.  The  voice  which 
 announces  his  approach,  shall  shake  the 
 foundations  of  the  earth,  and  the  unnum¬ 
 bered  dead  shall  rise,  to  receive  from  his 
 righteous  tribunal  the  sentence  of  acquittal 
 or  of  condemnation. 
 
 Happy  shall  they  be,  whom  he  shall  then 
 acknowledge  as  his  friends — for  he  shall  ga¬ 
 ther  them  out  of  every  land  to  grace  the 
 triumphs  of  his  empire ;  and  having  ap- 
 
 lauded 
 
12S 
 
 SERMON  VIE 
 
 plauded  their  fidelity  and  virtue  in  the  pre¬ 
 sence  of  the  assembled  universe,  he  shall 
 conduct  them  to  those  glorious  mansions 
 where  happiness  immortal  dwells ;  Then 
 shall  he  deliver  jcp  the  kingdom  to  the  Father^ 
 and  God  himself  shall  be  all  in  alL 
 
 But  who  are  they  whom  the  Saviour  shall 
 acknowledge  in  the  day  of  his  power  ? — • 
 Not  etery  one  who  hath  said  unto  him^  Lord, 
 Lord!  Not  “every  one  who  hath  assumed 
 his  name,  who  hath  affected  an  ardent  zeal 
 for  his  interests,  or  even  performed,  with 
 the  most  scrupulous  exactness,  what  is  mere-- 
 ly  outward  in  religion — but  they  who  have 
 done  the  will  of  his  Father,  who  is  in  heaven, 
 ^ — ^They  who  have  obeyed  his  precepts,  who 
 have  imitated  his  example,  who,  amidst  the 
 toils  of  duty,  and  the  temptations  of  the 
 world,  have  laboured  to  maintain  their  in¬ 
 tegrity  inviolate. 
 
 The  indolent  professor,  and  the  visionary 
 enthusiast  may  deceive  themselves,  as  they 
 will ;  but  it  is  not  an  empty  form  of  godli¬ 
 ness,  nor  even  any  temporary  ardour  of  de¬ 
 votion  ; — it  is  a  sincere  and  steady  piety,  it 
 is  an  uniform,  an  active  virtue  alone,  that 
 can  fit  us  for  inhabiting  those  blest  abodes, 
 
 which 
 
SERMON  VII. 
 
 129 
 
 Vvhich  our  Master  hath  gone  to  prepare  for 
 us.  Vain  are  all  the  hopes  which  you  build 
 on  any  other  fcundatiori.  Jesusf,  indeed,  hath 
 opened  the  gate  of  heaven;  but  through 
 that  gate  tht  jitst  nlorte  shall  mttrs  Rea¬ 
 son  and  scripture  unite  in  declaring,  That 
 without  holiness  no  man  shall  see  the  Lord, 
 Who  shall  ascend  into  the  hill  of  God  f  Who 
 shall  stahd  in  his  holy  pldct  ?  He  that  hath 
 
 clean  hands^  and  a  pure  heart _ He  shall 
 
 receive  the  blessing  from  the  Lord,  and  right- 
 eousness  from  the  God  of  his  salvation.  Let 
 every  one,  then,  who  Hath  this  hope  in  him, 
 purify  himself  even  as  God  is  pure _ Amen. 
 
 I  / 
 
 r  ON 
 
 I  . 
 
ON  THE  MEANS  BY  WHICH  RELIGIOUS 
 EMOTIONS  ARE  EXCITED, 
 
 Preached  at  the  celebration  of  the  Sacrament  of  the  Lord’s  Supper. 
 
 SERMON  VIII. 
 
 -  PSALM  LXXIII.  25. 
 
 \ 
 
 Whom  hare  I  in  hearen  hit  thee  ? — and  there  is 
 none  upon  earth  that  I  desire  besides  thee. 
 
 T HESE  words  express  the  feelings  of  a  mind 
 animated  by  the  warmest  sentiments  of  de¬ 
 votion.  The  Psalmist  had  discovered,  by 
 experience,  that  there  is  nothing,  in  the 
 whole  extent  of  creation,  which  can  satisfy 
 the  desires  of  an  immortal  nature ;  and  he 
 found,  in  God  alone,  an  object  in  which  his 
 soul  could  rest.  Religion  operated  in  his 
 breast  with  the  force  of  an  ardent  affec¬ 
 tion.  It  raised  him  above  this  passing  scene, 
 and  led  him  to  seek  his  supreme  felicity 
 
SERMON  VIII. 
 
 13i 
 
 in  the  exercise  of  those  sublime  affections 
 which  infinite  perfection  inspires. 
 
 In  discoursing  at  present,  therefore, 
 through  the  divine  assistance,  I  shall  di¬ 
 rect 'your  attention  to  the  means  by  which 
 the  pious  emotions  are  excited,  that  you, may 
 learn  how  to  cultivate  and  improve  them. 
 
 Man,  by  the  constitution  of  his  nature, 
 is  evidently  a  religious  being.  Destined  to 
 rise  to  the  knowledge  and  the  worship  of 
 God,  he  is  placed  in  a  world  in  which  the 
 divine  perfections  are  visibly  impressed  on 
 every  object  around  him,  and  endowed  with 
 faculties  which  enable  him  to  discover  in 
 the  universe  the  glory  of  its  author.  Nor 
 is  he  formed  for  a  cold  and  speculative  re¬ 
 ligion  alone.  He  hath  a  heart  to  feel,  as 
 well  as  an  understanding  to  decide ;  and 
 the  affections  of  his  heart  are  adapted,  with 
 admirable  wisdom,  to  the  objects  which  re¬ 
 ligion  presents.  Reverence,  admiration,  and 
 love,  are  emotions  which  arise  spontane¬ 
 ously  in  the  soul,'  at  the  view  of  what  is 
 great,  and  excellent,  and  good.  Even  the 
 inanimate  works  of  creation,  and  the  vir¬ 
 tues  of  human  conduct,  have  the  power  of 
 exciting  such  emotions  as  these ;  and  we 
 
 I  2  should 
 
132  SERMON  VIII. 
 
 should  regard  that  man  as  destitute  of  an 
 essential  characteristic  of  the  species,  who 
 was  altogether  a  stranger  to  their  influence* 
 
 In  some  persons  we  observe,  besides,  a 
 certain  delicate  sensibility  of  soul,  which 
 renders  them  peculiarly  alive  to  every  kind 
 of  emotion.  On  persons  of  this  descrip¬ 
 tion,  the  beauties  of  nature  and  art,  the 
 virtues  and  vices  of  human  character,  the 
 prosperous  and  adverse  events  of  life,  and 
 every  thing  that  is  fitted  to  rouse  the  affec¬ 
 tions,  operate  with  peculiar  force.  Their 
 minds  are  thus  pTepared>  for  receiving  the 
 impressions  of  religion and  they  have  only 
 to  turn  their  attention  to  the  nature,  and 
 the  works  of  the  supreme  Being,  that  re¬ 
 verence,  and  admiration,  and  gratitude,  and 
 every  devout  emotion,  may  be  awakened 
 in  their  breasts. 
 
 Pause  for  a  while,  then,,  ye  travellers  on 
 the  earth;  to  contemplate  the  universe  in 
 which  you  dwell,  and  the  glory  of  him 
 xvho  created  it.  What  a  scene  of  wonders 
 is  here  presented  to  your  view !  If  beheld 
 with  a  religious  eye,  what  a  temple  for  tlie 
 worship  of  the  Almighty !  The  earth  is 
 spread  out  before  you,  reposing 'amidst  the 
 1  desolation 
 
SERMON  VIII. 
 
 133 
 
 desolation  of  winter,  or  clad  in  the  verdure 
 of  the  spring  ; — smiling  in  the  -beauty  of 
 summer,  or  loaded  with  autumnal  fruit ; — 
 opening  to  an  endless  variety  of  beings  the 
 treasures  of  their  Maker’s  goodness,  and  mi¬ 
 nistering  subsistence  and  comfort  to  every 
 creature  that  lives.  The  heavens,  also, 
 declare  the  glory  of  the  Lord.  The  sun 
 cometh  forth  from  his  chambers  to  scatter 
 the  shades  of  night — inviting  you  to  the 
 renewal  of  your  labours — adorning  the  face 
 .of  nature — ^and,  as  he  advances  to  his  me¬ 
 ridian  brightness,  cherishing  every  herb  and 
 every  flower  that  springeth  from  the  bosom 
 of  the  earth.  Nor,  when  he  retires  again 
 from  your  view,  doth  he  leave  the  Creator 
 without  a  witness.  He  only  hides  his  own 
 splendour  for  a  while,  to  disclose  to  you  a 
 more  glorious  scene^-^to  show  you  the  im¬ 
 mensity  of  space  filled  with  worlds  unnum¬ 
 bered,  that  your  imaginations  may  wander, 
 without  a  limit,  in  the  vast  creation  of  God. 
 
 What  a  field  is  here  opened  for  the  exer¬ 
 cise  of  every  pious  emotion!  and  how  irre¬ 
 sistibly  do  such  contemplations  as  these 
 awaken  the  sensibility  of  the  soul  ?  Here  is 
 infinite  power  to  impress  you  with  awe— 
 
 I  s  here 
 
134 
 
 SERMON  VIII. 
 
 here  is  infinite  wisdom  to  fill  you  with  ad¬ 
 miration — here  is  infinite  goodness  to  call 
 forth  your  gratitude  and  love.  The  cor¬ 
 respondence  between  these  great  objects 
 and  the  affections  of  the  human  heart,  is 
 established  by  nature  itself ;  and  they  need 
 only  to  be  placed  before  us,  that  every  re¬ 
 ligious  feeling  may  be  excited. 
 
 On  our  part,  indeed,  attention  to  these 
 objects  is  necessary ;  and  it  is  owing  to  the 
 want  of  this,  that  the  generality  of  mankind 
 are  so  seldom  conscious  of  their  influence. 
 
 But,  even  here,  our  benevolent  Creator  hath 
 not  left  us  destitute  of  assistance  ;  for  every 
 great  event  of  life  hath  the  power  of  rous¬ 
 ing  our  attention,  and  fixing  it  on  the  ob¬ 
 jects  of  religion.  •  I  appeal  to  your  own  ex¬ 
 perience.  Recollect,  O  Christian,  the  season 
 so  interesting,  when  the  cloud  of  adversity 
 hung  over  thy  lot — when  disasters  threaten¬ 
 ed  to  overwhelm  thy  fortune — when  thou 
 wast  stretched,  all  hopeless,  on  the  bed  of 
 sickness,  or  wounded  in  thy  tenderest  affec¬ 
 tions  by  the  sufferings  of  some  valued  friend ! 
 Didst  thou  need,  in  that  time  of  anxiety,  a 
 monitor  to  remind  thee  of  thy  duty  ?  Did 
 not  thy  fears  themselves  awaken  the  senti¬ 
 ment 
 
SERMON  VIIL 
 
 135 
 
 ment  of  religion  within  thee  ?  Bid  not  thy 
 soul  ascend  instinctively  to  the  Disposer 
 of  all  events,  to  spread  out  its  sorrows  be¬ 
 fore  him,  and  to  implore,  from  his  mighty 
 hand,  that  deliverance  which  the  world 
 could  not  afford  ?  Thy  devotions  were  not 
 then  a  lifeless  exercise,  performed  merely 
 to  ease  thy  conscience  from  the  misery  of 
 self-reproach :  they  flowed  spontaneous  and 
 fervent  from  thy  heart,  aiming  at  no  other 
 object  but  to  gain  the  ear  of  Heaven.  Thy 
 prayer,  perhaps,  was  heard — the  cloud  of 
 adversity  passed  over  thy  head — thou  wast 
 raised  from  the  bed  of  sickness — the  friend 
 for  whom  thy  soul  did  bleed,  was  restored 
 to  thee  from  the  gates  of  death. — What  a 
 tide  of  pious  emotions  now  filled  thy  breast ! 
 Thy  joy,  as  yet  recent  and  vigorous,  ming¬ 
 ling  with  the  sentiment  of  religion,  poured 
 itself  forth  to  the  God  of  thy  salvation  in 
 the  warmest  expressions  of  gratitude.  The 
 goodness  of  Providence,  displayed  in  a  man¬ 
 ner  so  seasonable  and  so  interesting,  took  en¬ 
 tire  possession  of  thy  soul ;  and  while,  with 
 firm  purpose  of  heart,  thou  renewedst  thy 
 vow  of  obedience,  thou  saidst,  and  thou  be- 
 lievedst  that  thou  shouldst  never  forget  it— 
 
 I  4  / 
 
136 
 
 J5ERM0N  VIIL 
 
 1  will  low  the  Lord,  hecau^e  he  hath  heard 
 the  voice  of  7ny  supplication :  I  will  call  on 
 the  Lord  as  long  as  I  live. 
 
 Eyery  perspn,  who  is  in  any  degree  sus¬ 
 ceptible  of  religious  impressions,  hath,  at 
 times,  been  conscious  of  such  feelings  as 
 these ;  fpr,  by  the  constitution  of  human 
 nature,  all  the  interesting  events  of  life  have 
 an  influence  which  is  alrnost  irresistible  in 
 raising  the  soul  to  God;  and  the  sentiment 
 of  piety  acquires  a  peculiar  fervour  when 
 associated  with  grief  or  joy,  or  any  strong 
 affection  of  tfle  mind. 
 
 These  great  events,  however,  occur  but 
 rarely  in  the  lot  of  any  individual.  The 
 stream  of  human  life  proceeds,  for  the  most 
 part,  in  a  smoother  and  more  even  course ; 
 and,  therefore,  the  religion  of  Jesus  hath 
 provided  other  means  for  exciting  the  sen¬ 
 timent  of  piety.  By  the  institution  of  th^ 
 Sabbath,  it  rerninds  us  that  there  is  a  God 
 who  governs  the  universe,  gnd  whom  it  be¬ 
 comes  us  to  acknowledge  and  adore.  It  cajls 
 tis,  at  regular  intervals,  to  suspend  our  world¬ 
 ly  business  and  pleasures — to  view  ourselve^ 
 as  immortal  beings — and  to  fix  our  attention 
 on  objects  that  are  worthy  of  our  character 
 
 and 
 
SERMON  VIII. 
 
 137 
 
 and  pur  hopes,  It  invites  us  to  the  ternple 
 of  the  Lord,  tp  behold  his  power  and  his 
 glory,  and  to  indulge  those  pious  eniotions 
 which  his  perfections  are  fitted  to  inspire. 
 By  suph  exercises  as  these  the  flanae  of  de? 
 yotion  is  kindled  in  our  breasts.  When  we 
 come  to  the  house  of  God  with  the  multitude 
 that  keep  holy  days^  how  ntany  circunistan- 
 ces  concur  to  rouse  us  to  serious  thought } 
 The  volume  of  revelation  is  opened— that 
 book  out  of  which  the  dead  shall  he  judged. 
 We  see  a  mixed  assembly  of  every  age  and 
 rank,  prostrating  themselves  before  fhe 
 throne  of  Heavpn,  and  hear  those  accents 
 of  adoration  which  ascend,  from  IRany  a 
 hallowed  heart,  to  the  Father  and  the  Lord 
 of  all.  Our  religious  sensibility  is  awakeri^ 
 ed  by  the  scene— sympathy  aids  the  im- 
 pression— we  catch  from  our  fellow  wor¬ 
 shippers  the  spirit  with  which  they  are  in¬ 
 spired,  and  feel  every  pious  affection  rising 
 to  a  higher  tone,  while  our  devotions  min¬ 
 gle  with  theirs. 
 
 Such  are  the  effects  which  even  the  or¬ 
 dinary  institutions  of  religion  are  fitted  to 
 produce.  But  when  we  come,  as  in  the 
 sacrament  of  the  Supper,  with  hearts  pre¬ 
 pared 
 
13S 
 
 SERMON  VI 11. 
 
 pared  by  meditation,  to  commemorate  the 
 sufferings  and  virtues  of  Him  who  loved  us 
 unto  death — when  we  place  ourselves  be¬ 
 fore  the  cross  of  Christ,  to  contemplate  that 
 scheme  of  mercy  into  which  the  angels  de¬ 
 sire  to  look — when  we  behold  the  heavens 
 opened  to  receive  us,  after  all  our  wander¬ 
 ings,  and  see  the  face  of  God  smiling  gra-^ 
 ciously  from  on  high — when,  with  our  fa¬ 
 milies,  our  friends,  and  our  brethren,  we 
 come  to  our  Father’s  table  to  implore  those 
 blessings  for  ourselves,  and  for  one  another, 
 which  he  alone  can  bestow — when,  in  the 
 solemn  act  of  communion,  we  receive  the 
 symbols  of  that  event  on  which  all  our 
 hopes  depend,  and  are  left  with  our  con¬ 
 sciences  and  our  God,  while  all  is  silence 
 in  the  sanctuary,  save  the  sighs  which  are 
 heaved  to  Fleaven — amidst  such  a  scene 
 as  this,  what  various  emotions  of  piety  min¬ 
 gle  and  fill  our  souls ! — what  deep  contri¬ 
 tion  for  sin ! — what  ardent  gratitude  to 
 God! — what  vigorous  resolutions  of  amend¬ 
 ment  ! — what  breathings  after  virtue  and 
 immortality  !  — All  the  powers  of  our  souls 
 are  collected  ; — our  attention  is  irresistibly 
 fixed  on  subjects  the  most  interesting  to 
 
 our 
 
SERMON  VIII. 
 
 139 
 
 our  nature ; — while  we  muse^  the  five  burns, 
 
 0  Lord^  I  am  thy  servant — tridy  1  am  thy 
 servant.  1  will  abide  in  thy  tabernacle  for 
 ever.  I  will  trust  in  the  covert  of  thy 
 wings ;  for  thoUi  0  Lord,  hast  heard  my 
 mws — Thou  hast  given  me  the  hey'itage  of 
 them  that  fear  thee. 
 
 It  is  thus  that  the  pious  emotions  are  ex¬ 
 cited  in  our  breasts.  Our  alFections  are 
 adapted,  with  admirable  wisdom,  to  the 
 objects  which  religion  presents ;  and  these 
 objects  need  only  to  be  suggested  to  our 
 minds  by  the  works  of  creation  around  us, 
 by  the  great  events  of  life,  or  by  the  insti¬ 
 tutions  of  religious  worship,  that  the  devout 
 impression  may  be  felt. 
 
 Man  is  a  religious  being.  There  is  an 
 altar  erected  in  his  heart  by  the  hand  of 
 God  himself,  and  the  living  fire  needs  only 
 to  be  touched,  that  the  incense  may  blaze 
 to  heaven. 
 
 From  this  view  of  the  subject  many  use¬ 
 ful  instructions  may  be  derived.  You  may 
 learn  from  it,  in  the  first  place, 
 
 I.  How  the  religious  emotions  are  to  be 
 cultivated  in  your  minds.  Retire  occasion¬ 
 ally 
 
140 
 
 SERMON  VIII. 
 
 ally  frojn  the  world,  and  resign  yourselves 
 to  serious  thought.  Meditate  on  the  perr 
 fections  of  the  Almighty,  as  displayed  in 
 the  works  of  creation,  in  the  economy  of 
 Providence,  and  in  the  scheme  of  redemp¬ 
 tion,  View  every  incident  in  your  lot  as 
 a  part  of  that  moral  discipline  which  the 
 righteous  Ruler  of  all  the  world  exercises 
 over  the  human  race,  and  Jet  the  sentiment 
 of  religion  mingle  with  all  your  earthly 
 joys  and  sorrows,  that  prosperity  and  ad^ 
 versity  may  alike  contribute  to  raise  your 
 souls  to  heaven. 
 
 Nqt  forsake  the  assenblijig  of  yourselves 
 together^  as  the  manner  of  some  is;  but  re¬ 
 spect  the  ordinances  of  religion,  as  the 
 means  of  fixing  your  attention  on  subjects 
 the  most  worthy  of  your  contemplation,  on 
 God,  on  virtue,  and  on  immortality.  It  is 
 •  owing  to  the  neglect  of  these,  that  many 
 persons,  who  are  far  from  being  atheists  in 
 •speculation,  become,  in  a  great  measure, 
 atheists  in  practice.  Let  such  persons  tell 
 us  candidly,  (we  do  not  4sk  them  if  they 
 are  duly  alive  to  the  emotions  which  infi¬ 
 nite  perfection  claims ;)  but  let  them  tell 
 us  how  often  it  ever  occurs  to  them,  that 
 
 there 
 
SERMON  VIIL 
 
 t41 
 
 there  is  a  God  who  governs  the  universe, 
 and' who  is  entitled  to  their  worship  and 
 obedience.  If  they  too'  seldoni  view  them¬ 
 selves  in  the  light  of  religious  beings,  the 
 cause  is  obvious.  Amidst  the  business  and 
 amusements  of  the  world,  sober  reflection 
 is  banished  :  the-  great  events  of  life,  which 
 are  fitted  to'  arrest  their  attention,  occur 
 but  rarely ;  ^d,  by  deserting  the  institu¬ 
 tions  of  religion,  they  deprive  themselves 
 of  the  only  other  means  by  which  the  sen¬ 
 timent  of  piety  can  be  awakened  in  their 
 souls.  The  pious,  in  every  age,-  have  de¬ 
 lighted  to  mingle  in  the  dxercises  of  social 
 worship.-  Witness  the  ardent  expressions 
 of  the  king  of  Israel.  One  thing  have  I  de^ 
 sired  of  the  Lord ;  that  will  I  seek  after ^ 
 that  I  may  dwell  in  the  house  of  the  Lord  all 
 the  days  of  my  life^  to  behold  the  beauty  of 
 the  Lord,  and  to  inquire  in  his  temple.  My 
 soul  thirsteth  for  God,  the  living  God — whe7i 
 shall  I  come  and  appear  before  him  ?  I  will 
 go  to  the  altar  of  God,  to  God  my  exceeding 
 joy^  I  will  offer  unto  him  the  sacrifices  of 
 thanksgiving  m  the  presence  of  all  the  peo¬ 
 ple — in  the  courts  of  the  Lord's  house — in 
 the  midst  of  thee,  0  Jerusalem  / 
 
 11. 
 
142 
 
 SERMON  VIII. 
 
 II.  In  the  second  place,  let  me  remind 
 you,  from  the  observations  which  have 
 been  made,  that  the  great  end  of  the  pious 
 emotions  is  to  form  you  to  the  practice  of 
 virtue. 
 
 I  have  endeavoured  to  show  you,  that 
 you  are  formed  by  nature  for  receiving  the 
 impressions  of  religion  ;  and  that  the  affec¬ 
 tions  of  your  hearts  accord  with  the  objects 
 which  religion  presents.  But  you  are  not 
 destined  to  soar  continually  above  the  world, 
 in  the  regions  of  devout  contemplation. 
 The  earth  is  .still  your  abode.  The  busi¬ 
 ness  of  the  world  claims  your  attention — 
 the  pleasures  of  the  world  invite  you  to  en¬ 
 joy  them — and,  amidst  the  business  and 
 pleasures  of  the  world,  the  impressions 
 which  are  made  on  you  in  the  season  of 
 piety,  are  apt  to  be  effaced  >  from  your 
 minds.  Nor  is  this  the  whole  of  your  dan¬ 
 ger  ;  for  the  same  sensibility  of  soul  which 
 renders  you  peculiarly  alive  to  every  reli¬ 
 gious  emotion,  exposes  you  also  to  the  in¬ 
 fluence  of  those  temptations  which  the 
 world  presents  to  seduce  you ;  and  hence 
 it  is,  that  we  frequently  see  men  whose  de¬ 
 votions  at  times  are  not  only  sincere,  but 
 
 ardent, 
 
SERMON  VIII. 
 
 143 
 
 ardent,  exhibiting,  in  their  characters,  the 
 strange  contradiction  of  a  piety  which  is  not 
 hypocritical,  but  which,  notwithstanding, 
 is  frustrated  by  vice.  Let  not  such  ap¬ 
 pearances,  however,  be  alleged  as  a  pretext 
 for  neglecting  the  offices  of  devotion.  The 
 pious  affections  are  proper  in  themselves. 
 They  are  suited  to  those  views  of  the  divine 
 character,  which  reason  and  revelation  ex¬ 
 hibit.  They  are  adapted,  also,  by  their  na¬ 
 ture,  to  purify  and  elevate  the  soul,  and  to 
 exert  a  most  salutary  influence  on  the  con¬ 
 duct.  But  let  me  warn  you  not  to  trust  to 
 them  ;  for  remember,  that  as  virtuous  emo¬ 
 tions  are  not  the  whole  of  virtue  ;  so  nei¬ 
 ther  are  pious  emotions  the  whole  of  piety. 
 They  are  often  mere  temporary  feelings, 
 which  arise  instinctively  in  our  minds, 
 when  our  attention  is  unavoidably  turned 
 to  the  objects  that  are  fitted  to  excite  them, 
 which  flow  and  swell  for  a  while,  and  then 
 subside  of  course,  nor  leave  a  trace  of  their 
 existence  behind  them. 
 
 It  is  not  to  be  expected,  indeed,  that  the 
 pious  affections  should,  at  all  times,  glow 
 in  our  breasts  with  equal  liveliness  and  ar¬ 
 dour.  This  our  nature  would  be  unable 
 
 to 
 
lU  SERMON  Vlir. 
 
 to'  sustain  y  nor  would  so  constant  an  ele- 
 vatioft  of  soul  be  consistent  with'  the  dis¬ 
 charge  of  the  duties  for  which  we  are  placed 
 in  the  world.  But  it  certainly  may  be  ex¬ 
 pected,  that  the  frequent  exercise  of  enio- 
 trons,  SO'  pure  and  exalted  as  those  which 
 have  infinite  perfection  for  their  object, 
 should,  by  degrees,  refiUe  our  moral  sensi-t 
 bility,'  and  form  us  to  the  practice  of  vir¬ 
 tue ;  for  every  religious  feeling  hath  sOtne 
 corresponding  actions  by  which  it  is  natu¬ 
 rally  expressed,  and  the  performance  of 
 which  is  necessary,  not  only  to  ascertain  it 
 as  genuine^  but  also  to  afford  it  a  complete 
 gratification.  Consider,  for  a  moment,  O 
 Christian,  what  thy  religious  services  im¬ 
 ply  !  Dost  thou  revere  the  power  of  God, 
 and  hast  thou  no  fear  of  offendirig  him  ?-^ 
 Dost  thou  adore  the  perfection  of  thy 
 Maker,  and  hast  thou  no'  desire  to  resem¬ 
 ble-  it  ? — ‘Dost  thou  glow  with  gratitude  to 
 his  goodness,  and  canst  thou  live  im  the 
 practice  of  what  thou  knoWCst  must  dis¬ 
 please  him  ?— -Evefy  religious  emotion 
 points  directly  to"*  obedience.  L^t  thy  feek 
 ings*  regulate  thy  conduct,  and  learn  to  be 
 Consistent  with  thyself.  If  thou  hast  the 
 
 evidence 
 
SEUMON  VIIL 
 
 J45 
 
 evidence  of  thy  piety  in  thy  life,  let  not  thy 
 heart  be  discouraged,  though  thou  shouldst 
 not  experience,  on  every  occasion,  all  that 
 fervour  of  devout  affection  to  which  thou 
 art  ambitious  to  rise.  The  fervour  of  de¬ 
 vout  affection  depends  on  natural  constitu- 
 tion~on  a  particular  tone  of  spirits — and 
 on  a  variety  of  other  circumstances  which 
 are  not  at  all  times  in  thy  power.  But  this 
 is  the  love  of  God,  that  we  keep  his  command^ 
 merits.  The  piety  of  which  he  approves,  is 
 a  steady,  uniform  principle.  It  is  not  con¬ 
 fined  to  times  and  to  seasons — it  influences 
 the  whole  of  life.  It  follows  its  possessor 
 from  the  closet  and  the  temple,  to  the  scenes 
 of  his  ordinary  business,  and  directs  and 
 animates  his  conduct  in  all  his  intercourse 
 with  mankind.  It  is  this  steady  piety  alone, 
 that  can  either  promote  your  future  happi¬ 
 ness,  or  minister  to  your  present  comfort. 
 Those  transient  feelings  of  devotion,  which 
 vanish  like  the  morning  cloud,  serve  only 
 to  temind  their  possessor  how  ill  his  con¬ 
 duct  accords  with  them.  They  reprove — 
 but  they  do  not  reform  him.  They  are 
 only  gleams  of  celestial  light  darted  on  the 
 darkness  of  his  soul,  to  show  him  the  de- 
 
 K  formity 
 
145 
 
 SERMON  VIIF. 
 
 formity  of  his  character,  and  to  fill  hiiif 
 with  remorse  and  terror  in  all  his  approach¬ 
 es  to  his  Maker.  Hence  that  unseemly 
 gloom  which  hangs  over  the  minds  of  many 
 when  engaged  in  the  exercises  of  devotion, 
 and  which  hath  brought  a  reproach  on  re¬ 
 ligion  itself,  as  hostile  to  the  happiness  of 
 man. 
 
 Let  the  sentiment  of  piety,  then,  be  in 
 your  breasts  an  uniform  principle  of  virtue. 
 Thus  shall  it  prove  to  you  a  source  of  con¬ 
 solation  amidst  all  the  cares  and  miseries  of 
 life  : — with  joy  shall  you  approach  your 
 Maker  to  pour  out  your  souls  before  him^ 
 v/hen  your  consciences-  testify  in  your  be¬ 
 half,  that  it  is  your  sincere  and  diligent 
 endeavour  to  imitate  the  perfection  which 
 you  adore  ; — the  pleasures  of  devotion  shall 
 increase  in  proportion  as  your  virtues^  im¬ 
 prove,  until,  at  last,  you  arrive  in  those  bless¬ 
 ed  abodes  where  you  shall  mingle  your  a- 
 dorations  and  thanksgivings  with  tliose  of 
 the  unnumbered  multitude  who  surround 
 the  throne  of  God — where  your  piety,  fed 
 by  the  presence  of  its  object,  shall  burn 
 with  a  pure  and  immortal  flame.  Amen. 
 
 ON 
 
ON  THE  COMMANDMENTS  OF  GOD,  CONSD 
 DERED  AS  NOT  GRIEVOUS. 
 
 SERMON  IX. 
 
 1  JOHN  V.  3. 
 
 For  this  is  the  loxc  of  God,  that  icc  heep./iis  com* 
 mamhnents ;  and  iiis  commandments  are  not 
 grievous. 
 
 T'he  Connection  between  piety  and  vir¬ 
 tue  is  close  and  powerful.  As  piety  is  the 
 best  foundation  of  virtuous  conduct,  so  vir¬ 
 tue  is,  in  its  turn,  the  most  indisputable 
 test  of  our  piety  ; — Other  marks  of  this  di¬ 
 vine  principle  may  be  more  easily  counter- 
 feitedi  The  hypocrite,  (it  is  our  Saviour’s 
 observation,)  the  hypocrite  may  make  long- 
 prayers  ;  he  may  occasionally,  also,  expe¬ 
 rience  some  ardour  in  his  devotion ;  and 
 while  his  outward  appearance  of  piety  im¬ 
 poses  on  his  brethren,  the  transient  emo- 
 
 K  2  tions 
 
148 
 
 SERMON  IX. 
 
 tions  with  which  his  breast  may  glow,  may, 
 sometimes,  impose  on  himself.  But  genuine 
 religion  is  not  confined  to  the  temple  and  to 
 the  closet ;  it  diffuses  its  benign  influence 
 over  the  whole  of  life,  and  whatever  appear¬ 
 ances  we  may  occasionally  assume,  what¬ 
 ever  fervours  we  may  occasionally  feel,  we 
 are  not  animated  by  a  real  principle  of  love 
 to  God,  if  this  love  operate  not  on  our  con¬ 
 duct  as  a  spring  of  obedience, — For  thisy 
 saith  the  apostle,  is  the  love  of  Gody  that  we 
 keep  his  commandments. 
 
 Having  recommended  obedience  to  the 
 laws  of  God,  as  the  best  expression,  and  the 
 most  indisputable  test  of  our  piety,  the 
 apostle  informs  us,  in  the  latter  clause  of  the 
 verse,  that  this  obedience  is  neither  imprac¬ 
 ticable  nor  oppressive.  His  commandments 
 are  not  grievous.  With  a  view  to  encourage 
 you  in  the  discharge  of  your  duty,  I  shall 
 endeavour,  through  the  divine  assistance,  to 
 illustrate  the  doctrine  which  the  text  con¬ 
 tains  : — 
 
 \ 
 
 I.  Tt  will  appear,  that  the  commandments 
 of  God  are  not  grievous,  if  we  consider  their 
 tendency  to  promote  our  present  happiness. 
 
 Laws 
 
SERMON  IX. 
 
 149 
 
 Laws  may  justly  be  regarded  as  oppres¬ 
 sive,  when  they  are  calculated  merely  to 
 display  the  power  of  the  sovereign ;  when 
 they  consist  of  capricious  and  arbitrary  in¬ 
 stitutions,  by  which  the  interests  of  the 
 subject  are  not  advanced.  The  tyrant  hath 
 
 in  view  only  his  own  aggrandizement _ 
 
 His  laws  are  calculated  chiefly  to  keep  his 
 
 subjects  at  a  distance _ He  hath  no  respect 
 
 to  their  nature  or  their  feelings  ;  but  while 
 he  imposes  on  them  a  thousand  base  servi¬ 
 lities,  he  imagines,  that  by  degrading  them 
 below  their  natural  rank,  he  exalts  himself 
 above  the  station  of  a  mortal. 
 
 His  greatness  consists  in  beholding  his 
 wretched  slaves  lying  prostrate  at  his  feet, 
 embracing  the  dust  on  which  he  treads, 
 condescending  to  offices  the  vilest  and  most 
 humiliating,  and  offering  a  constrained  a- 
 doration  to  a  power  which  they  detest. 
 Such  wretched  slaves  are  all  the  servants  of 
 sin,  but  the  laws  of  God  are  dictated  by  be¬ 
 nevolence, — they  are  framed  not  for  his 
 own  advantage,  but  for  ours  ;  and  the  con¬ 
 duct  which  they  prescribe  to  the  human 
 race,  is  the  conduct  which  every  man  who 
 consults  his  own  true  happiness  will  study  to 
 
 K  3  maintain  ; — 
 
150 
 
 SERMON  IX. 
 
 maintain  ; — to  discharge  our  duty  is  to  pro¬ 
 mote  our  interest,  to  serve  God  is  to  secure 
 felicity  to  ourselves. 
 
 From  the  violation  of  his  commandments 
 originate  all  the  miseries  which  embitter 
 our  present  existence.  If  we  are  haunted 
 by  fear, — if  we  boil  with  resentment,  or  pine 
 with  envy,  to  what  shall  we  ascribe  this 
 complication  of  wretchedness  ?  Whence  come 
 Tjcars  and  fightings  among  us  ?  Whence 
 those  feuds  and  contentions  which  disquiet 
 individuals,  which  embroil  families,  which 
 depopulate  kingdoms,  and  often  render  the 
 earth  a  scene  of  blood  ? — They  come  from 
 the  transgression  of  the  laws  of  God.  Were 
 these  laws  universally  violated,  the  world 
 would  present  to  us  nothing  but  confusion 
 and  misery  ;  the  ties  of  society  would  be 
 broken  ;  and  we  should  be  glad  to  seek,  in 
 the  wilderness  and  the  solitary  place,  a  safe 
 retreat  from  the  approach  of  our  brethren  : 
 on  the  contrary,  were  these  laws  universal¬ 
 ly  observed,  what  an  accession  of  enjoyment 
 would  accrue  to  the  individual  !  what  de¬ 
 light  and  comfort  to  the  society  of  mankind ! 
 Were  sobriety  and  temperance  generally 
 cultivated,  from  how  many  diseases  and  lam 
 
 guors 
 
SERMON  IX. 
 
 151 
 
 guors  should  we  escape !  Were  justice  univer¬ 
 sally  practised,  from  how  many  suspicions 
 and  fears  should  we  be  delivered  !  how  easy 
 and  expeditious  would  be  the  business  of  life ! 
 how  securely  would  man  repose  himself  in 
 man  !  Were  truth  in  every  instance  invio¬ 
 lably  adhered  to,  what  comfort  would  be 
 added  to  our  mutual  intercourse  !  what  spi¬ 
 rit  and  confidence  to  conversation  !  what 
 sweetness  to  the  sound  of  a  brother’s  voice  ! 
 Were  the  sentiment  of  charity  universally 
 diffused,  how  precious  would  we  be  in  the 
 eyes  of  one  another  !  how  would  we  contri¬ 
 bute  to  one  another’s  happiness !  how  much 
 lighter  would  be  the  pressure  of  human 
 woe  !  Were  these  virtues  universally  prac¬ 
 tised,  men  would  enjoy  the  life  of  angels, 
 and  the  earth  would  be  an  image  of  heaven. 
 — Such  are  the  duties  which  God  hath  pre¬ 
 scribed  to  you.  Are  his  commandments 
 grievous,  then  ?  Is  it  not  a  privilege  that 
 you  are  permitted  to  serve  him  by  such  du¬ 
 ties  as  these  ? 
 
 Nor  are  the  duties  which  you  owe  more 
 immediately  to  your  Maker,  less  conducive 
 to  the  happiness  of  your  iives.-^You  are  re¬ 
 quired  to  believe  in  his  name,  and  to  ac- 
 
 K  4  knowledge 
 
152 
 
 SERMON  IX. 
 
 knowledge  his  providence ;  and  is  it  no 
 consolation  to  know,  that  you  live  in  a 
 world  in  which  perfect  wisdom  and  good¬ 
 ness  preside  ?  that  the  blessings  which  you 
 enjoy  are  not  the  fruits  of  accident,  but  the 
 favours  of  an  indulgent  God  ?  that  the  mi^ 
 series  which  befall  you  spring  not  from  the 
 dust  ?  that  your  distresses  are  not  tfes  inflic¬ 
 tions  of  cruelty,  but  the  discipline  of  an 
 affectionate  Parent,  who  chastens  you  for 
 your  improvement  ? 
 
 You  are  required  to  place  your  trust  and 
 your  confidence  in  the  Lord  ;  and  is  it  no 
 consolation  to  possess  an  Almighty  Friend, 
 on  whom  you  may  rely  for  protection,  and 
 on  whom  you  may  cast  your  cares  ?  Is  it 
 no  consolation,  amidst  the  storms  of  life, 
 to  repose  under  the  shelter  of  the  Rock  of 
 ages  ? 
 
 You  are  required  to  fear  and  reverence 
 your  Maker ;  and  doth  not  religion  mingle 
 joy,  even  with  the  trembling  which  it  re¬ 
 quires  ?  The  fear  of  the  Lord,  doth  it  not 
 elevate,  instead  of  depressing,  the  mind  ? 
 The  firmest  guardian  of  our  innocence,  is 
 it  not,  also,  our  surest  refuge  from  the  fear 
 of  man  ? 
 
 You 
 
SERMON  IX. 
 
 153 
 
 You  are  required  to  love  the  Lord  with 
 all  your  heart ;  and  if  love  be  a  sentiment 
 which  you  indulge  with  delight,  must  not 
 your  delight  be  pure,  and  elevated  above  all 
 earthly  joys,  when  your  affection  centers  in 
 a  being  in  whom  perfection  dwells  ? 
 
 You  are  required  to  make  known  your 
 requests  unto  God  j  and  is  it  no  comfort  to 
 know  that  his  ear  is  open  to  the  secrets  of 
 your  souls,  and  to  the  voice  of  your  mise¬ 
 ries  ?  If  he  had  not  invited  you  to  ap¬ 
 proach  him,  would  you  not  prostrate  your¬ 
 selves  in  the  dust,  and  intreat  him  to  look 
 down  on  the  workmanship  of  his  hands  ? — 
 Such  is  the  worship  which  God  requires. 
 Are  his  commandments  grievous,  then  ? 
 Is  it  not  a  privilege  that  you  are  permitted 
 to  serve  him  by  such  duties  as  these  ? 
 
 II.  It  will  appear  that  the  commandments 
 of  God  are  not  grievous,  if  we  consider  the 
 powerful  assistance  with  which  he  hath  pro¬ 
 mised  to  support  our  virtue. 
 
 Religion,  we  acknowledge,  is  not  without 
 its  conflicts,  In  the  service  of  God,  as  in 
 every  other  service,  there  are  sacrifices  to 
 be  made,  and  labours  to  be  endured.  His 
 
 laws, 
 
154 
 
 SERMON  IX. 
 
 laws,  indeed,  are  calculated  to  promote  the 
 real  happiness  of  man  ;  but  there  is  often  an 
 apparent  interest  which  they  require  him  to 
 forego,  or  a  temporary  pleasure  which  they 
 forbid  him  to  taste. — They  are  adapted  to 
 the  noblest  principles  which  inhabit  our 
 breasts — reason  and  conscience  plead  in 
 their  behalf.  But  these  principles  form  not 
 the  whole  of  our  nature.  The  passions 
 which  our  Creator  hath  implanted  in  our 
 hearts,  and  which  (though  an  essential  and 
 useful  part  of  our  constitution)  are  so  apt 
 to  transgress  the  bounds  assigned  to  them  ; 
 these  raise  often  a  loud  and  clamorous  voice ; 
 they  call  for  gratifications  which  religion 
 prohibits,  and  excite  us  to  violate  the  com¬ 
 mandments  of  God. 
 
 Hence  arises  a  struggle  which  often  the 
 best  of  men  find  it  difficult  to  maintain. 
 Nor  is  it  from  the  corruption  of  our  own 
 hearts  only,  that  our  danger  arises, — ob¬ 
 jects  every  where  surround  us  by  which  our 
 passions  are  inflamed.  By  every  indulgence 
 their  strength  is  increased,  and  the  aid  which 
 they  derive  from  the  maxims,  the  examples, 
 and  the  temptations  of  the  world,  often 
 
 render 
 
SERMON  IX. 
 
 155 
 
 render  them  too  vigorous  for  our  higher 
 powers. 
 
 If,  amidst  such  struggles  as  these,  no  as¬ 
 sistance  were  provided,  we  might  have  rea¬ 
 son  to  complain  that  our  duty  was  severe. 
 But  religion  hath  respect  to  the  frailty  of 
 our  condition, — the  God  whom  we  serve 
 remembers  our  frame  ;  he  is  no  unconcern¬ 
 ed  spectator  of  the  conflict  which  we  main¬ 
 tain  ;  his  eye  pities  our  labouring  nature, 
 and  his  power  is  pledged  to  support  us. 
 Fear  not,  for  I  am  with  yon,  this  is  the  lan¬ 
 guage  by  which  he  animates  our  virtue. 
 
 It  is  this  consideration  that  vindicates 
 the  commandments  of  God  from  the  impu¬ 
 tation  of  severity  ;  not  that  he  exempts  us 
 from  labour,  for  by  labour  we  must  be  tried 
 and  improved ;  it  is  that  the  service  which 
 he  requires,  is  proportioned  to  the  strength 
 which  he  affords  us,  and  that  when  our  own 
 strength  is  exhausted,  he  supplies  us  with 
 power  from  on  high. 
 
 Let  this  consideration  reconcile  the  Chris¬ 
 tian  to  his  duty,  and  stifle  every  impious 
 murmur.  While  you  improve  the  difficuL 
 ties  of  religion  as  an  argument  for  caution 
 and  vigilance,  consider,  also,  the  resources 
 
 which 
 
SERMON  It. 
 
 ISG 
 
 which  religion  provides,  lest  ^ou  be  weary j 
 or  faint  in  your  minds.  Your  own  nature 
 may  be  imperfect  and  frail,  but  with  the 
 Lord  Jehovah  is  everlasting  strength.  Your 
 way  may  sometimes  be  dark,  and  rugged, 
 and  intricate, — but  he  who  hath  command¬ 
 ed  you  to  walk  in  it  will  guide  your  steps  ; 
 He  will  erect  his  pillar  in  the  desert.,  and  the 
 
 darkness  shall  become  light  before  you _ His 
 
 hand  will  lead  you — he  will  smooth  your 
 path.  When  yommlk,  your  steps  shall  not  be 
 straitened  ;  and  when  you  run,  you  shall  not 
 
 stumble _ Your  enemies  may  be  formidable 
 
 by  their  numbers,  and  by  their  power, — 
 But  he  who  is  with  you  is  mightier  than  they. 
 The  Lord  of  hosts  is  your  defence,  the  eternal 
 God  is  your  refuge.  He  will  cover  your 
 head  from  danger, — he  will  animate  your 
 breast  with  courage, — he  will  clothe  your 
 arm  with  power, — he  will  scatter  your  foes 
 before  you,  and  lead  you  to  victory. 
 
 Complain  not,  then,  that  your  Maker 
 hath  required  of  you  any  impracticable  ser¬ 
 vice. — rExert  your  own  strength,  and  your 
 success  is  sure  ;  Be  of  good  couraget  and  he 
 will  strengthen  your  hearts, — yea,  he  will 
 uphold  you  by  the  right  hand  of  his  righteous-- 
 
 ness. 
 
SERMON  IX. 
 
 157 
 
 ness.  Directed'  by  the  wisdom,  and  sup¬ 
 ported  by' the  power  of  God,  what  may  not 
 a  mortal  attempt  ?  What  may  not  a  mor¬ 
 tal  atchieve  ?  Recollect  the  resources  which 
 he  affords  you,  and  acknowledge  that  his 
 commandments  are  not  grievous.-— Recol¬ 
 lect  the  resources  which  he  affords  you,  and 
 let  your  difficulties  alarm  you  no  more. 
 
 III.  If  we  consider  the  obligations  under 
 which  we  lie  to  God,  it  will  appear,  that  his 
 commandments  are  not  grievous. 
 
 We  regard  a  superior  as  oppressive,  when 
 he  demands  of  us  more  than  he  is  entitled 
 to  claim  ;  when  he  who  will  do  nothing  for 
 us,  requires  that  we  should  do  every  thing 
 for  him.  We  submit,  with  reluctance,  to 
 an  authority  which  is  founded  merely  on 
 power ;  and  though  the  dread  of  punish¬ 
 ment  may  enforce  our  obedience,  yet  our 
 hearts  refuse  the  homage  which  we  yield, 
 and  we  groan  under  the  yoke  which  we 
 bear.  But  the  service  which  gratitude  dic¬ 
 tates  is  easy  and  pleasant ;  when  he  who 
 commands,  is  our  benefactor  and  our  friend, 
 affection  unites  with  the  sense  of  duty,  and 
 sweetens  our  obedience.  Our  hearts  are 
 
 engaged, 
 
158 
 
 SERMON  IX. 
 
 engaged, — our  compliance  is  chearful,-^we 
 regret,  only,  that  the  returns  which  we  make 
 are  less  than  we  owe,  and  less  than  we  feel. 
 
 Now,  what  benefactor  is  so  disinterested  ? 
 what  friend  so  generous  as  God  ?  Is  he  not 
 yoiLV  Father  who  hath  bought  you  f  Hath  he 
 not  made  you  and  established  you  ?  Consider, 
 it  was  he  who  opened  your  eyes  to  the  light 
 of  life, — it  was  he  who  pitied  you  in  your 
 helpless  years,  who  supplied  your  wants  be¬ 
 fore  you  could  express  them,  and  relieved 
 your  miseries  before  you  knew  their  causes 
 — It  was  he  who  established  your  feeble  steps, 
 who  preserved  you  amidst  the  dangers  of  a 
 life  which  as  yet  was  new  to  yon,  and  amidst 
 the  disasters  of  a  world,  to  which,  as  yet,  you 
 were  strangers. — It  was  he  who  conducted 
 you  through  the  paths  of  childhood, — who 
 unfolded  by  degrees  your  ripening  powers, — 
 who  taught  you  to  enjoy  the  comforts  with 
 which  he  had  surrounded  you,  and  raised 
 you  to  the  knowledge  of  himself,  your 
 chiefest  bliss.  From  him  continueth  to  de~ 
 sc  end  every  good  and  eveiy  perfect  gift.  His 
 works  delight  you  by  their  varied  beauty, — 
 his  sun  sheds  on  you  its  chearing  light, — - 
 his  earth  offers  to  you  her  treasures  and  her 
 
 fruits, — 
 
SERMON  IX. 
 
 159 
 
 fruits, — his  dews  descend  to  refresh  your 
 abode — all  your  comforts  have  their  source 
 in  God.  He  hath  been  your  shield  in  the 
 hour  of  danger, — -in  sickness  he  hath 
 smoothed  your  pillow,  and  mitigated  your 
 pain, — in  death  he  hath  opened  a  prospect 
 to  quiet  your  fears  ; — over  your  ingratitude 
 itself  his  goodness  hath  triumphed.  He  hath 
 redeemed  you  by  his  son  from  guilt  and 
 ruin,  and  raised  you  to  the  hope  of  immor¬ 
 tal  life. 
 
 And  can  you  refuse  aught  that  this  be¬ 
 nefactor  requires  ?  Do  you  esteem  an  un¬ 
 hallowed  passion,  or  a  destructive  pleasure, 
 too  high  a  sacrifice  to  the  giver  of  all  ?  will 
 you  not  consecrate  to  him  every  power 
 which  you  possess  ?  The  faculties  which 
 be  hath  bestowed  on  you,  shall  they  not  be 
 devoted  to  their  author  ?  The  eye  wTich  he 
 hath  opened,  shall  it  not  be  lifted  up  unto 
 him  ?  The  ear  which  he  hath  formed,  shall 
 it  not  listen  to  his  voice  ?  The  ]jeople  whom 
 he  hath  made  for  himself  shall  they  not  shew 
 forih  his  praise  Wilt  thou  refuse  to  call 
 upon  liim^  0  Jacob  ?  wilt  thou  be  weary  of 
 him^  0  Israel 
 
 Our  affectionate  parent,  our  watchful 
 
 preserver, 
 
160 
 
 SERMON  IX, 
 
 preserver,  our  kindest  friend  ;  the  source  of 
 our  being,  the  soother  of  our  sorrows,  the 
 length  of  our  days,  the  Saviour  of  our  souls, 
 can  his  commandments  be  grievous  or  se¬ 
 vere  ?  Recollect  your  obligations  to  God, 
 and  blush  to  complain  of  his  service. — Re¬ 
 collect  your  obligations  to  God,  and  let  his 
 service  be  the  joy  of  your  lives. 
 
 IV.  In  the  last  place,  it  will  appear  that 
 the  commandments  of  God  are  not  grievous, 
 if  we  consider  the  glorious  reward  with 
 which  he  hath  promised  to  crown  our  obe¬ 
 dience. 
 
 How  indulgent  a  Master  doth  the  Chris¬ 
 tian  serve  !  For,  pursuing  the  path  which 
 leads  to  present  happiness,  he  shall  be  re¬ 
 warded  with  joys  that  never  end _ For  his 
 
 obedience  alone  is  provided  a  double  re- 
 compence.  He  hath  the  promise  of  the  life 
 'which  now  is,  and  of  that  also  which  is  to 
 come.  The  scriptures  abound  with  the 
 most  animating  descriptions  of  the  future 
 felicity  which  awaits  the  faithful _ An  eter¬ 
 
 nal  rest  from  trouble  and  care ;  the  sub- 
 limest  knowledge  ;  the  most  perfect  virtue  j 
 the  society  of  all  the  great  and  the  good  in 
 
 1  the 
 
SERMON  IX. 
 
 }6i 
 
 the  universe  ;  the  everlasting  presence  and 
 flrvour  of  God  himself— this  is  the  happi¬ 
 ness  reserved  in  heaven,- — A  feast  oj  joy — 
 J.  cromi  of  life—^A  kingdom  of  glory — A 
 river  of  the  purest  delight  flowing  from  an 
 eternal  spring  ;  these  are  the  images  by 
 which  it  is  held  forth  to  our  view*  but  the 
 language  of  man  is  too  feeble  to  describe  it, 
 and  fancy  labours  in  vain  to  supply  the  de¬ 
 fect  ;  For  eye  hath  not  seen^  ear  hath  not 
 heard^  neither  can  the  heart  conceive  what 
 God  hath  prepared  for  them  that  love  hwu 
 Let  this  glorious  prospect  encourage  your 
 minds..  The  inconsiderate  are  affected  only 
 by  present  feeling, — they  estimate  every  toil 
 and  every  suffering  by  itself  apart*  It  is  not 
 surprising,  therefore,  that  they  should  sink 
 under  the  hardships  to  which  their  duty 
 exposes  them,  for  no  affiction  for  the  p>re sent 
 is  joyous^  but  grievous.  But  the  wise  look 
 .forward  to  the  end  of  things, — they  con¬ 
 nect  the  present  with  the  future;  they  know, 
 that  every  struggle  which  they  are  called 
 to  maintain,  forms  an  accession  to  the  hap¬ 
 piness  reserved  for  them  in  heaven ;  and  they 
 tejoice  even  in  tribulation,  which,  while 
 
 it 
 
 j- 
 
162 
 
 SERMON  IX. 
 
 it  perfects  their  character,  contributes,  also, 
 to  perfect  their  future  bliss. 
 
 The  heathen,  unsupported  by  those  pro¬ 
 spects  which  the  gospel  opens,  might  be 
 supposed  to  have  sunk  under  every  trial  ; 
 yet,  even  among  them  was  sometimes  dis¬ 
 played  an  exalted  virtue, — a  virtue  which 
 no  interest,  no  danger,  could  shake  ;  a  vir¬ 
 tue,  'which  could  triumph  amidst  tortures 
 and  death — a  virtue,  which,  rather  than  for¬ 
 feit  its  conscious  integrity,  could  be  content 
 to  resign  its  consciousness  for  ever.  And 
 shall  not  the  Christian  blush  to  repine  ? 
 the  Christian  from  before  whom  the  veil  is 
 removed  ?  to  whose  eyes  are  revealed  the 
 glories  of  heaven  ?  Your  indulgent  ruler 
 doth  not  call  you  to  run  in  vain,  or  to  la¬ 
 bour  in  min. — Every  difficulty,  and  every 
 trial  that  occurs  in  your  path,  is  a  fresh  op¬ 
 portunity  presented  by  his  kindness,  of  im¬ 
 proving  the  happiness  after  which  he  hath 
 ^taught  you  to  aspire.  By  every  hardship 
 which  you  sustain  in  the  wilderness,  you 
 .Secure  an  additional  portion  of  the  promised 
 land.  What  though  the  combat  be  severe 
 A  kingdom, — an  everlasting  kingdom,  is 
 
 the  prize  of  victory _ Look  forward  to 
 
 the 
 
SERMON  IX. 
 
 153 
 
 the  triumph  which  awaits  you,  and  your 
 courage  will  revive — Fight  the  good  fighU 
 finish  your  course^  keep  the  faith:  there  is 
 laid  2ip  for  you  a  ci^own  of  righteousness^ 
 which  the  Lordi  the  righteous  Judge,  shall 
 give  2into  you  at  that  day.  What  though, 
 in  the  navigation  of.  life,  you  have  some¬ 
 times  to  encounter  the  war  of  elements  ? 
 What  though  the  winds  rage,  though  the 
 waters  roar,  and  danger  threatens  around  ? 
 Behold,  at  a  distance,  the  mountains  appear. 
 — Your  friends  are  impatient  for  your  ar¬ 
 rival  ;  already  the  feast  is  prepared,  and  the 
 rage  of  the  storm  shall  serve  only  to  waft 
 you  sooner  to  the  haven  of  rest _ No  tem¬ 
 
 pests  assail  those  blissful  regions  which  ap¬ 
 proach  to  view — all  is  peaceful  and  serene, 
 — there  you  shall  enjoy  eternal  comfort, 
 and  the  recollection  of  the  hardships  which 
 you  now  encounter  shall  heighten  the  feli¬ 
 city  of  better  days. 
 
 By  collecting  in  one  general  view  the  se¬ 
 veral  observations  which  have  been  made, 
 we  may  form  an  amiable  picture  of  the  go« 
 
 vernment  of  God _ A  being  to  whom  we 
 
 are  infinitely  indebted,  prescribes  to  us  a 
 system  of  duty,  adapted  to  the  noblest  prin- 
 
 L  2  ciples, 
 
SERMON  IX. 
 
 I{i4 
 
 ciples,  and  conducive  to  the  real  felicity  of 
 our  nature.  In  the  discharge  of  this  duty, 
 he  affords  us  the  most  powerful  assistance  ; 
 and  for  maintaini^'g  a  conduct  which  leads 
 to  honour  and  happiness  on  earth,  he  hath 
 promised  to  reward  us  eternally  in  heaven. 
 
 And  noii\  0  Israel !  what  doth  the  Lord 
 thy  God  require  of  thee  ;  hut  to  love  the  Lord 
 thy  God  with  all  thy  heart,  and  with  all  thy 
 souly  and  with  all  thy  mind  j  and  to  keep  his 
 statutes  and  his  commandments,  which  he  hath 
 coimnanded  thee  for  thy  good.  Take  his  yoke 
 upon  you,  for  it  is  easy,  and  his  burden  is 
 light.  His  statutes  are  right,  rejoicing  the 
 heart :  His  judgments  are  true,  and  righteous 
 altogether  ;  they  are  more  to  be  desired  than 
 thousands  of  silver, — they  are  sweeter  than 
 honey  to  the  mouth.  By  them,  also,  are  his 
 servants  warned,  and  in  the  keeping  of  them 
 there  is  a  great  reward.  Blessed  is  that  mail 
 whose  delight  is  in  the  law  of  the  Lord. 
 Amen. 
 
 ON 
 
ON  DEVO  TION. 
 
 SERMON  X. 
 
 rsALm  Lxxiit.  28. 
 
 Bui  it  is  good for  mt  to  drazv  near  unto  God. 
 
 j\iANY  of  the  duties  which  religion  en¬ 
 joins,  are  so  evidently  conducive  to  the 
 happiness  of  the  individual,  and  the  wel¬ 
 fare  of  society,  that  their  utility  is  acknow¬ 
 ledged  even  by  those  who  live  in  the  ha¬ 
 bitual  violation  of  them.  But  the  offices 
 of  piety  the  inconsiderate  are  apt  to  regard 
 as  mere  unmeaning  ceremonies,  from  the 
 neglect  of  which  no  danger  is  to  be  dread¬ 
 ed,  and  from  the  performance  of  which 
 no  advantage  can  accrue.  In  discoursing 
 at  present,  therefore,  through  the  divine 
 assistance,  I  shall  endeavour  to.  recommend 
 the  duties  of  devotion,  by  considering  their 
 
 L  3  influence 
 
166 
 
 SERMON  X. 
 
 influence  on  the  virtue  and  the  happiness 
 of  human  life. 
 
 I.  In  the  first  place,  they  are  admirably 
 calculated  to  promote  your  improvement 
 in  virtue. 
 
 The  duties  of  morality,  and  the  duties  of 
 religion,  flowing  from  the  same  principle 
 of  goodness  in  the  heart,  mutually  support 
 and  animate  one  another.  The  regular 
 discharge  of  the  duties  of  life  is  the  best 
 preparation  for  communion  with  God.  It 
 encourages  us  to*  approach  our  Lawgiver 
 and  our  Judge.  It  diffuses  over  'the  mind 
 an  agreeable  serenity,  and  sweetens  every 
 act  of  religious  worship.  The  offices  of 
 devotion,  in  their  turn,  calling  forth  and 
 strengthening  the  best  affections  of  the 
 heart,  and  touching  the  strongest  springs 
 of  action,  dispose  us  for  discharging  with 
 alacrity  all  the  duties  of  life. 
 
 The  mind  is  naturally  assimilated  to  the 
 objects  with  which  it  is  chiefly  conversant. 
 It  is  exalted  by  the  contemplation  of  what 
 is  great  and  excellent — it  is  debased  and 
 enfeebled  by  having  its  attention  continu¬ 
 ally  fixed  on  what  is  mean  and  contempti¬ 
 ble. 
 
SERMON  X. 
 
 167 
 
 blc.  Hence  it  is,  that  those  who  have  aim¬ 
 ed  at  the  improvement  of  the  heart,  have 
 found  it  useful  to  present  to  our  view  illus¬ 
 trious  characters — to  place  them  in  elevated 
 situations  of  life — and  to  clothe  their  vir¬ 
 tues  with  every  circumstance  of  greatness 
 and  splendour,  that,  thus  exciting  and  exer¬ 
 cising  our  admiration  of  excellence,  they 
 might  form  us  to  the  imitation  of  what  we 
 admire. 
 
 Such  is  the  effect  which  the  frequent 
 contemplation  of  the  divme  perfections  will 
 naturally  produce.  Your  minds,  accustom¬ 
 ed  to  rise  to  the  Creator  of  the  world,  and 
 to  meditate  on  the  transcendent  excellence 
 of  his  nature — to  venerate  that  wisdom 
 which  hath  arranged  the  universe — to  a- 
 dore  that  Justice  which  nothing  on  earth 
 or  in  heaven  can  bind — and  to  celebrate 
 that  goodness  which  hath  diffused  life  and 
 joy  throughout  unnumbered  systems ; — 
 your  minds,  accustomed  to  such  exercises 
 as  these,  will  descend  to  their  ordinary 
 sphere,  ennobled  and  improved.  Fired 
 with  a  generous  admiration  of  all  that  is 
 great  and  excellent,  and  seized  with  the 
 spirit  of  that  Being  whose  perfections  have 
 
 L  4  inflamed 
 
16S 
 
 SERMON  X. 
 
 inflamed  your  hearts — you  will  engage  with 
 redoubled  ardour  in  all  the  duties  of  your 
 station — you  will  breathe  after  higher  at¬ 
 tainments  in  every  godlike  quality,  till,  by 
 degrees,  you  be  fashioned  after  the  image 
 of  Him  whose  holiness  is  the  object  of  your 
 adoration,  and  whose  goodness  is  the  theme 
 of  your  praise. 
 
 The  feelings,  of  which  prayer  is  the  na¬ 
 tive  expression,  are  moral  feelings.  The 
 admiration  of  excellence,  and  the  love  of 
 goodness,  are  the  source  of  all  that  is  great 
 and  generous  in  human  conduct.  These 
 feelings,  like  every  other  emotion  of  the 
 heart,  are  improved  and  strengthened  by 
 being  frequently  expressed ;  and  prayer  is 
 the  duty  in  which  they  are  most  complete¬ 
 ly  exercised. 
 
 Our  admiration,  when  fixed  on  human 
 excellence,  and  our  love,  when  fixed  on 
 human  goodness,  are  limited  by  the  imper¬ 
 fection  of  the  objects  which  excite  them. 
 Restrained  in  their  exercise  by  the  frailties 
 which  mingle  with  these  better  qualities, 
 they  acquire  not,  while  thus  confined,  theii* 
 proper  vigour,  nor  produce,  on  our  con^ 
 duct,  their  full  effect, 
 
 But 
 
SERMON  X. 
 
 m 
 
 But,  in  that  glorious  Being  who  is  the 
 tvbject  of  your  devotions,  no  frailty  is  found 
 to  limit  your  admiration,  or  to  diminish 
 your  love.  His  character  fills  and  elevates  the 
 soul.  Your  best  affections,  excited  by  the 
 immutable  excellence  of  his  nature,  find  a 
 boundless  field  in  which  to  range ;  and,  in 
 the  exercises  of  piety,  they  acquire  a  vigour 
 which  no  other  exercises  can  ever  impart. 
 Cherished  and  strengthened  by  repeated 
 acts  of  religious  worship,  they  glow  in  your 
 breasts  with  increasing  ardour,  till,  by  de¬ 
 grees,  they  are  formed  into  a  settled  tem¬ 
 per,  and  constitute  that  habitual  frame  of 
 mind,  from  which  all  that  is  virtuous  may 
 be  expected  to  flow. 
 
 It  appears,  then,  that  the  duties  of  devo¬ 
 tion,  leading  to  the  contemplation  of  infi¬ 
 nite  excellence,  and  improving  the  best  af¬ 
 fections  of  the  heart,  plant  in  our  breasts 
 the  seeds  of  virtue.  The  exercises  in  which 
 these  duties  engage  us,  are  favourable  also 
 to  its  growth ;  for  we  come  into  the  pre- 
 sence*of  God,  not  merely  to  adore  the  per¬ 
 fection  of  his  nature,  and  to  celebrate  the 
 goodness  to  which  we  owe  all  our  bliss — 
 we  Come  to  lay  open  before  him  the  secrets 
 
 of 
 
J70 
 
 SERMON  X. 
 
 of 'our  souls — to  bewail  the  transgressions 
 by  which  we  have  offended  him — and  to* 
 form  our  resolutions  of  future  obedience/ 
 These  exercises  lead  to  a  serious  review, 
 and  produce  a  knowledge  of  our  own  cha¬ 
 racters  extremely  favourable  to  improve¬ 
 ment.  The  faithful  worshipper  will  not 
 seek  to  hide  his  iniquities  from  his  own 
 view,  while  he  utters  his  confessions  before 
 the  Searcher  of  hearts.  Carefully  will  he 
 trace  the  progress  of  his  life,  that  no  secret 
 sin  may  remain  unacknowledged  ; — atten¬ 
 tively  will  he  mark  the  frailties  of  his  na¬ 
 ture,  that  he  may  adjust  his  petitions  to  his 
 various  wants ; — with  determined  mind  will 
 he  form  his  purposes,  and  with  unwearied 
 diligence  will  he  labour  to  fulfil  them,  that 
 thereby  he  may  become  worthier  of  his 
 Maker’s  favour.  From  such  exercises  as 
 these,  the  most  important  advantages  can¬ 
 not  fail  to  accrue  ; — and,  can  we  doubt 
 the  truth  of  what  the  scriptures  have  de- 
 lared,  that  on  this  man  the  grace  of  Hea¬ 
 ven  will  descend,  to  reward  his  pious  con¬ 
 fidence  in  God — to  establish  his  footsteps 
 in  the  path  of  duty — and  to  lead  him  for¬ 
 ward  to  the  perfection  after  which  he  as¬ 
 pires  ? 
 
171 
 
 SERMON  X 
 
 pires  ? — No,  my  friends.— -As  certainly  as 
 there  is  a  God,  who  regards  the  affairs  of 
 mortals,  he  will  listen  to  the  prayers  of 
 those  ingenuous  souls,  who,  solicitous  to 
 please  him,  and  to  secure  his  favour,  im¬ 
 plore  his  spirit  to  assist  their  virtue. 
 
 Think  not,  then,  that  the  influence  of 
 devotion  is  confined  to  the  retirement  of 
 the  closet,  and  the  assemblies  of  the  saints. 
 Imagine  not,  that,  unconnected  with  the 
 duties  of  life,  it  is  suited  only  to  those  en¬ 
 raptured  souls,  whose  feelings,  perhaps,  you 
 deride  as  romantic  and  visionary.  It  is  the 
 guardian  of  innocence — it  is  the  instrument 
 of  virtue — it  is  a  mean  by  which  every 
 good  affection"  may’  be  formed  and  im¬ 
 proved.  It  will  lead  you  to  the  know¬ 
 ledge  of  your  own  character — it  will  ani¬ 
 mate  you  in  the  discharge  of  every  duty, 
 and  procure  for  you  those  gracious  influ¬ 
 ences  of  Heaven,  without  which  your  best 
 
 endeavours  are  vain _ The  men  of  the 
 
 world,  indeed,  actuated  by  principles  less 
 sublime  than  these,  may  yield  a  cold  obe¬ 
 dience  to  the  rules  of  morality.  A  sense  of 
 character,  or  a  sense  of  interest,  may  dis¬ 
 pose  them  to  submit  to  a  yoke  which  they 
 
 hate. 
 
172 
 
 SERMON  X. 
 
 hate.  But  you,  whose  minds  are  accus-- 
 tomed  to  rise  to  your  Father  in  heaven, 
 and  whose  souls  devotion  hath  exalted  and 
 purified,  you  feel  an  enlargement  in  the 
 ways  of  righteousness,  to  which  the  men  of 
 tlie  world  are  total  strangers.  Your  bene¬ 
 volence  is  animated  by  the  love  of  God — 
 your  affections,  raised  above  all  earthly  ob¬ 
 jects,  are'  superior  to  the  temptations  by 
 which  others  are  betrayed — virtue  flows 
 native  from  your  purer  hearts,  and  to  you 
 the  toils  of  duty  are  sweetened,  while  by 
 these  you  obey  the  God  whom  you  adore 
 and  love. 
 
 11.  In  the  second  place,  consider  the  in¬ 
 fluence  of  devotion  on  the  happiness  of 
 life. 
 
 Devotion  is,  itself,  a  source  of  the  sub- 
 limest  enjoyment.  The  human  mind  de¬ 
 lights  in  exercise ;  and  the  duties  of  piety 
 are  the  noblest  exercise  in  which  its  powers 
 can  be  employed.  When  the  perfections 
 of  the  Almighty  fill  our  souls,  and  call  forth 
 the  various  affections  of  our  hearts — when, 
 admitted  into  the  presence  of  him  who 
 made  us,  we  indulge  the  emotions  which 
 
SERMON  X. 
 
 173 
 
 infinite  excellence  is  fitted  to  inspire — we 
 gratify  the  finest  feelings  of  our  nature,  and 
 are  conscious  of  an  elevation  and  tranquil¬ 
 lity  of  mind,  which  yields  the  purest  and 
 most  generous  delight.  I  appeal  to  those 
 who  are  accustomed  to  the  exercises  of  de¬ 
 votion — Say,  ye  faithful  worshippers  of 
 God,  when  have  you  tasted  your  richest 
 joys  ?  Was  it  not,  when  withdrawn  from 
 the  cares  of  the  world,  your  spirits  ascend¬ 
 ed  to  your  Father  in  heaven — when  your 
 admiration  rose  at  the  view  of  his  glory,  or 
 when  your  gratitude  glowed  at  the  recol¬ 
 lection  of  his  love  ?  Was  it  not  when  your 
 lips,  obedient  to  the  dictates  of  your  hearts, 
 uttered  the  memory  of  his  unequalled  good¬ 
 ness — when  you  unbosomed  to  him  your 
 troubled  spirits,  and  indulged  the  hope  that 
 your  prayers  were  heard  ?- — Yes ;  for  then 
 you  rose  above  this  passing  scene.  You 
 found  an  object  in  which  your  souls  could 
 rest.  Your  affections  flowed  in  their  na¬ 
 tive  channel,  and  you  tasted  the  joys  of 
 those  first  of  days,  when  man  was  permit¬ 
 ted  to  converse  with  God. 
 
 Devotion  exalts  and  purifies  every  earth¬ 
 ly  pleasure.  It  adds  to  the  enjoyment  of 
 
 our 
 
 1 
 
17 
 
 SERMON  Xi 
 
 our  present  comforts  the  delightful  emo¬ 
 tion  of  gratitude  to  our  Maker,  The  man 
 who  acknowledges  not  the  providence  of 
 Heaven,  can  have  but  an  imperfect  relish 
 •for  the  blessings^  of,  life.  He  regards  them 
 •merely  as  the  gifts  of  chance,  which  be¬ 
 stows  and  withholds  without  design.  Like 
 the  inferior  creatures,  he  finds  the  means 
 of  subsistence  scattered  around  him  like 
 them  he  satisfies  the  wants  of  his  nature, 
 and  his  pleasures  are  limited  and  grovelling 
 like  theirs.  But  the.  soul  of  the  devout  man 
 rises  above  the  various  blessings  of  his  con¬ 
 dition,  to  the  eternal  source  from  which 
 they  flow.  He  values  them  as  the  marks  of 
 his  Maker’s  favour,  and  the  tender,  pledges 
 of  paternal  care.  Every  returning  mercy, 
 the  reward  of  his  trust,  confirms  his  confi¬ 
 dence,  and  animates  his  praise.  In  the 
 hand  which  bestows  his  various  comforts, 
 he  knows  that  his  interests  are  all  secure ; 
 and  he  tastes  his  pleasures  with  a  double 
 relish,  while  he  ascribes  them  to  the  riches 
 of  his  Father’s  love. 
 
 But  adversity  is  the  scene  in  which  dcr 
 votion  triumphs ;  for,  however  in  our  pro¬ 
 sperity  we  may  forget  our  Maker,  affliction 
 
 ^  reminds 
 
SERMON  X. 
 
 17^ 
 
 reminds  us  of  our  dependence  on  him. 
 When  poverty  visits  our  abode — when  we 
 are  deserted  by  those  who  once  courted  our 
 regard — when  disease  and  languor  begin  t© 
 waste  us,  and  the  help  of  man  is  found  to 
 be  vain — to  whom  can  we  go  but  unto 
 God  ?  or  where,  but  in  the  secret  of  his 
 pavilion,  can  we  find  a  refuge  from  our 
 sufferings  ? 
 
 Adversity  is  the  school  of  piety ;  and  the 
 man  who,  in  his  happier  days,  had  forgot¬ 
 ten  that  there  is  a  God  who  governs  the 
 universe,  is  constrained,  in  the  hour  of 
 darkness,  to  acknowledge  his  Providence, 
 and  to  raise  his  voice  to  him  from  the  bed 
 of  sickness.  But,  alas !  how  ill  is  he  pre¬ 
 pared  for  such  exercises  as  these  !  Unaccus¬ 
 tomed  as  yet  to  the  duties  of  devotion,  he 
 knows  not  how  to  express  himself  in  the 
 language  of  prayer ;  and  his  mind,  conscious 
 of  its  former  ingratitude,  is  ashamed  to 
 rise  to  its  long-neglected  Parent.  In  a  sea¬ 
 son  so  interesting,  blessed  is  that  man  whose 
 God  is  the  Lord ;  for^  when  his  heart  is  in 
 heavinesSi  he  thinks  upon  God  ;  and^  in  the 
 multitude  of  his  thoughts  within  him^  the  con¬ 
 solations  of  the  Mmighty  delight  his  soid. 
 
 Amidst 
 
176 
 
 SERMON  X. 
 
 Amidst  all  the  vicissitudes  of  life,  he  traces 
 that  omnipotent  hand  which  holds,  unseen, 
 the  sceptre  of  the  universe;  which,  while  it 
 directs  the  motions  of  the  planets,  distrh 
 butes  also  to  mortals  their  portions  in  life. 
 Even  in  the  distresses  that  befal  him,  he 
 acknowledges  the  wisdom  and  the  kindness 
 of  his  Father ;  and,  from  the  sense  of  his 
 Maker’s  favour,  he  derives  a  joy  over  which 
 the  world  hath  no  power.  The  Lord  is  his 
 light  and  his  salvation^  whom  shall  he  fear  P 
 The  Lord  is  the  strength  of  his  hearty  of 
 whom  shall  he  be  afraid  ?  The  arms  of  Pro^ 
 vidence  encircle  him.  In  the  secret  of  God's 
 pavilion  he  finds  himself  secure.  His  fortress 
 is  the  Rock  of  ages.  He  fears  not  though 
 the  earth  be  vfimoved.  His  language  is— 
 Whom  have  I  in  heaven  but  God:  Besides 
 him  there  is  none  on  earth  whom  I  desire. 
 My  heart  and  my  flesh  shall  fail ;  but  God  is 
 the  strength  of  my  hearty  and  my  portion  for 
 ever. 
 
 Devotion,  the  sacred  minister  of  com-- 
 fort,  how  could  we,  without  her  aid,  sus¬ 
 tain  the  sorrows  of  this  wretched  pilgrim¬ 
 age.  It  is  devotion  that  smooths  the  bed 
 of  sickness — it  is  devotion  that  relieves  the 
 
 burdened 
 
SERMON  X. 
 
 177 
 
 burdened  spirit — it  is  devotion  that  raises 
 the  drooping  head.  When  all  was  dismal 
 and  dark  around  us,  how  often  hath  her 
 influence  cheered  our  souls  ! — But  beware 
 of  limiting  her  sacred  office ;  nor  court  her 
 only  as  the  assuager  of  your  woes.  Conse¬ 
 crate  to  her  the  day  of  prosperity — invoke 
 her  to  hallow  every  ^omfort  of  your  lot; — 
 then  will  she  solace  you  in  the  time  of 
 trouble — she  will  mingle  sweetness  in  your 
 bitterest  cup.  By  her  you  shall  triumph  over 
 every  earthly  sorrow — ^by  her  you  shall  rise 
 above  disease  and  death,  till,  through  the 
 merits  of  Jesus,  the  High  Priest  of  your 
 profession,  you  be  admitted,  at  last,  to  the 
 presence  of  your  Father,  to  behold  his 
 glory,  which  now,  unseen,  you  adore. 
 
 Such  is  the  foundation  of  true  devotion, 
 and  such  its  salutary  influence  on  the  vir¬ 
 tue  and  the  happiness  of  human  life.  But 
 it  will  be  alleged,  perhaps,  that  these  ad¬ 
 vantages  are  more  imaginary  than  real. 
 Look  to  the  lives  of  many  who  are  regu¬ 
 lar  iii  their  devotions,  will  the  irreligious 
 say — Are  their  tempers  improved  by  the 
 exercises  of  piety  ?  Do  they  enjoy  more  con¬ 
 tentedly  than  we  do,  the  blessing  of  their 
 
 M  condition  ? 
 
178 
 
 SERMON  X. 
 
 condition?  Is  their  conduct  more  pure,  or 
 more  virtuous  than  ours  ? — On  the  con¬ 
 trary,  do  we  not  often  observe  in  them  a 
 peevishness  which  is  dissatisfied  with  every 
 earthly  comfort — a  pride  which  leads  them 
 to  despise  their  brethren — a  contracted,  sul¬ 
 len,  censorious  spirit,  as  hostile  to  the  vir¬ 
 tue  as  to  the  enjoyment  of  life  ? — This  is 
 the  language  of  worldly  men.  The  vices  ot 
 the  devout  are  a  topic  of  declamation  by 
 which  they  will  often  attempt  to  justify  the 
 neglect  of  every  duty  which  they  owe  to 
 their  Maker.  Would  to  God  that  we  could 
 deny  the  fact  on  which  they  found  their 
 contempt  of  piety  !  Would  to  God  that  all, 
 who  affect  the  character  of  devout,  would 
 display  the  influence  of  their  devotion  on 
 their  hearts  and  conduct ! — But,  alas  !  my 
 friends,  (for,  in  vindicating  religion,  we  must 
 speak  the  truth,)  with  shame  we  acknow¬ 
 ledge,  that  many  who  are  regular  in  all  the 
 duties  of  devotion,  are  miserably  negligent 
 of  the  duties  of  life.  We  blush,  for  the 
 honour  of  undefiled  religion,  when  we  con¬ 
 template  the  character  of  some  of  its  pro¬ 
 fessors,  whose  hearts  are  strangers  to  its  sa¬ 
 lutary  power — whose  souls  are  the  abode  of 
 
 a 
 
 3 
 
SERMON  X. 
 
 m 
 
 a  thousand  evil  passions — of  fretfulness  and 
 insincerity,  and  hatred  and  pride— of  spi¬ 
 ritual  pride,  the  worst  species  by  far  of  that 
 vicious  affection,  even  while  they  seem  to 
 adore  the  perfection  of  God.  We  trust  that 
 the  number  of  such  characters  as  these,  is 
 smaller  than  the  irreligious  would  have  us 
 believe  ;  but  we  pretend  not  to  justify  their 
 hypocrisy  and  vice.  No — Thou  purest  and 
 thou  best  of  Beings — the  praises  of  such  are 
 an  abomination  to  thee.  If^  like  the  Pha¬ 
 risees  of  old,  they  pervert  their  devotions 
 to  foster  their  passions,  or  to  palliate  their 
 crimes,  let  them  sustain  the  blame  to  which 
 their  conduct  exposes  them.  But  we  ad¬ 
 monish  those  who  deride  their  piety,  to 
 confine  their  reproach  to  such  as  deserve  it. 
 It  is  not  of  their  prayers  that  we  speak  when 
 we  inculcate  devotion ; — it  is  not  to  their 
 characters  that  we  exhort  you  to  look  for 
 the  advantages  which  devotion  is  fitted  to 
 yield  ; — we  speak  of  those  whose  devotions 
 are  sincere^of  those  who  glow  with  the 
 admiration  of  infinite  excellence — who  burn 
 with  the  love  of  infinite  goodness — and  who, 
 ambitious  to  please  the  object  of  their  wor-^ 
 ship,  labour  to  imitate  the  perfection  which 
 
 M  2  they 
 
180 
 
 SERMON  X. 
 
 they  adore.  The  piety  of  such  persons  is 
 real— it  is  an  instrument  of  virtue.  '  The 
 prayers  of  others  are  mere  hypocrisy  and 
 form. 
 
 Let  no  person,  then,  attempt  to  discredit 
 devotion,  by  declaiming  against  the  vices 
 which  assume  its  name.  To  state  against 
 religion  the  errors  of  its  professors — errors 
 which  religion  openly-  disclaims — errors 
 which  religion  expressly  condemns — hath 
 often  been  the  pitiful  refuge  of  its  foes. 
 Their  conduct,  in  this  respect,  is  most  in¬ 
 sidious  and  uncandid  ;  for  what  blessing  of 
 Heaven  have  not  men  abused  ?  What  means 
 of  improvement  hath  Heaven  provided, 
 which  some  persons  have  not  perverted 
 into  instruments  of  vice  ?  Hath  not  reason 
 been  employed  to  justify  the  passions  ? 
 Hath  not  Christ  himself  been  made  a  mi¬ 
 nister  of  sin  ?  We  plead  not  the  cause  of 
 the  hypocritical  professor — we  plead  for 
 the  faithful  worshipper  of  God.  And  say, 
 my  friends,  is  there  aught  in  the  exercises 
 in  which  piety  engages  us,  that  can  injure 
 the  temper,  or  contract  the  heart  ?  Is  it 
 that  thereby  your  spirits  rise  to  the  Father 
 of  men  ?  But  this  will  inspire  you  with  the 
 
 ®  love 
 
SERMON  X. 
 
 181 
 
 love  of  your  brethren — Is  it  that  thereby 
 you  venerate  his  eternal  perfection  ?  But 
 this  will  lead  you  to  imitate  the  excellence 
 which  you  adore. — Is  it  that  thereby  you 
 burn  with  the  love  of  his  goodness  ?  But 
 
 every  act  of  duty  is  sweetened  by  love _ 
 
 Is  it  that  thereby  you  confess  your  past 
 transgressions,  and  implore  his  grace  to  di¬ 
 rect  your  future  steps  ^  But  such  confes¬ 
 sions  will  lead  to  resolutions  of  amendment; 
 and  the  hope  of  being  aided  by  the  spirit 
 of  God  will  invigorate  your  exertions,  and 
 animate  your  virtue.  Such  are  the  effects 
 which  the  duties  of  devotion  are  calculated 
 to  produce  ;  and  such  are  the  effects  which 
 they  do  produce,  in  fact,  on  the  characters 
 of  those  who  perform  them  aright.  Ye 
 who  are  alive  to  the  feelings  of  devotion, 
 to  you  we  look  for  the  evidence  of  this  im¬ 
 portant  truth.  Let  not  religion,  I  beseech 
 you,  be  disappointed  in  you  ;  for,  however 
 unreasonable  such  language  is,  the  men  of 
 the  world  will  not  cease  to  affirm,  that  the 
 exercises  of  piety  are  a  mere  idle  ceremony, 
 while  they  produce  not  on  your  conduct 
 their  native  effect.  To  such  reasoning,  in¬ 
 deed,  it  is  easy  to  reply.  Devotion  may  be 
 
 M  3  justified 
 
182 
 
 SERMON  X. 
 
 justified  by  considering  what  it  is  in  itself. 
 But,  from  your  conduct,  a  more  striking 
 argument  will  be  derived,  if  to  you  the 
 men  of  the  world  can  be  directed  as  living 
 evidences  of  its  salutary  power.  Where¬ 
 fore,  let  wisdom  be  justified  of  her  chil¬ 
 dren.  Rouse  up  all  that  is  good  within 
 you.  Rescue  your  profession  from  every 
 foul  reproach,  and  convince  the  world, 
 that  as  you  are  animated  by  motives  more 
 exalted  than  theirs,  so  your  virtue  also  is 
 purer  and  more  sublime.  Thus  shall  you 
 stop  ike  7)1  out h  of  the  gainsay er.  You  shall 
 shed  a  lustre  on  the  exercises  in  which  your 
 souls  delight ;  and  the  enemies  of  piety, 
 beholding  the  virtue  which  your  charac¬ 
 ters  display,  shall  be  led  to  admire  and  to 
 cultivate  those  devout  affections  which  pu¬ 
 rify  your  hearts,  and  adorn  your  lives. 
 
 ON 
 
ON  BENEFICENCE. 
 
 Preached  In  St  Andrew’s  Church,  Edinburgh,  on  February  18th  1794, 
 at  the  request  of  the  Society  for  the  Relief  of  the  Industrious  Blind. 
 
 SERMON  XL 
 
 Job,  XXIX.  15,  l6i. 
 
 I  was  eyes  to  the  blind ^  and feet  was  I  to  the  lame  ; 
 
 I  was  a  father  to  the  poor :  and  the  cause  which 
 I  hicio  not,  I  searched  out- 
 
 Such  were  the  reflections  with  which  Job 
 comforted  himself  in  an  hour  of  the  deepest 
 affliction ;  and  the  conduct  which  his  ex¬ 
 ample  recommends  to  our  imitation,  is  that 
 sincere  and  active  benevolence  towards  our 
 fellow-creatures,  which  disposes  us  to  enter  , 
 into  their  feelings,  to  pity  their  miseries, 
 and  to  embrace  every  opportunity  of  alle¬ 
 viating  their  sufferings. 
 
 In  the  following  discourse,  therefore,  I 
 shall  endeavour  to  suggest  a  few  considera- 
 
 M  4  tions, 
 
SERMON  XI. 
 
 1 84, 
 
 tions,  with  a  view  to  enforce  the  duties  of 
 compassion  and  beneficence. 
 
 I.  Let  us  consider,  in  t\\Q  first  place,  then, 
 That  by  the  exercise  of  compassion  and 
 kindness  to  our  fellow-creatures,  we  fulfil 
 the  intention  of  Providence. 
 
 When  we  look  around  us  into  the  world, 
 we  behold  the  blessings  of  life  distributed 
 in  very  different  proportions  to  different 
 
 classes  of  men _ While  some  are  rejoicing 
 
 in  the  abundance  of  their  wealth,  and  sur¬ 
 rounded  with  every  outward  advantage  that 
 can  minister  to  the  comfort  of  their  being, 
 we  see  others  pining  in  poverty,  or  strug¬ 
 gling  hard  to  earn  for  their  numerous  fami¬ 
 lies  the  most  necessary  means  of  subsistence. 
 This  division  of  mankind  into  the  rich  and 
 the  poor,  is  not  the  effect  of  any  particular  po¬ 
 litical  institution.  It  is  altogether  unavoid¬ 
 able  in  the  course  of  human  affairs  ;  and  re¬ 
 sults  from  the  natural  operation  of  those  ge¬ 
 neral  laws,  which  God  hath  established  for 
 the  government  of  the  world.  All  that  so¬ 
 ciety  hath  to  do,  in  this  respect,  is  to  se¬ 
 cure  to  the  industrious  the  fruits  of  their 
 virtuous  labours.  If  this  beeffected  (as  it 
 
 IS 
 
SERMON  XL 
 
 185 
 
 is  reasonable  it  should),  industry  and  fruga¬ 
 lity  will  necessarily  lead  to  wealth  ;  and  the 
 wealth  which  the  industrious  have  acquired, 
 will  descend  by  their  own  destination  to 
 their  children. 
 
 In  every  state  of  society,  we  behold  this 
 original  law  of  nature  producing  its  native 
 effect.  We  see  the  prodigal  dissipating  the 
 fortune  which  the  industry  of  his  ances¬ 
 tors  had  acquired  for  him ;  while,  from  the 
 very  lowest  ranks  of  life,  others  are  daily 
 coming  forward,  by  patient  and  persever¬ 
 ing  efforts,  to  the  possession  of  affluence 
 and  distinction.  Even  within  the  limits  of 
 our  own  experience,  how  many  revolutions 
 of  fortune  have  arisen  from  the  operation 
 of  such  causes  as  these  !  Among  the  poor, 
 how  many  shall  we  find,  whose  forefathers 
 lately  flourished  in  all  the  splendour  of 
 wealth  !  and  how  many,  on  the  other  hand, 
 among  the  rich,  whom  attention  and  dili¬ 
 gence  alone  have  raised  from  the  humblest 
 stations  to  the  rank  which  they  now  pos¬ 
 sess  !  Wherever  men  are  free,  and  proper¬ 
 ty  protected,  distinctions  will  thus  arise  in 
 the  natural  course  of  things.  The  idea  of 
 perfect  equality  is  a  mere  delusion  ;  it  stands 
 
 in 
 
186 
 
 SERMON  XL 
 
 in  direct  contradiction  to  the  plan  of  na¬ 
 ture,  and  the  arrangements  of  Divine  Pro¬ 
 vidence  ;  and  though  all  the  wealth  of  the 
 world  were,  at  this  moment,  to  be  equally 
 divided  among  all  its  inhabitants,  there  is 
 only  one  expedient  by  which  this  equality 
 could  be  preserved,  (a  desperate  expedient 
 indeed  !  which  would  be  destructive  of  all 
 industry  and  virtue)  the  only  expedient, 
 how’ever,  by  which  the  end  could  be  ob¬ 
 tained  ;  for,  in  order  to  preserve  this  origi¬ 
 nal  equality,  even  for  the  shortest  space  of 
 time,  it  would  be  necessary  daily  to  rob  the 
 industrious  and  frugal,  of  the  comforts  which 
 their  hands  had  earned,  that  they  might  be 
 bestowed  on  the  idle  and  the  dissipated. 
 
 Nor  ought  this  division  of  mankind  into 
 the  rich  and  the  poor,  to  be  considered  as  a 
 subject  of  regret.  On  the  contrary,  there 
 are  many  salutary  effects  which  it  seems 
 well  fitted  to  produce.  It  furnishes  an  op¬ 
 portunity  for  the  exercise  of  human  virtue, 
 in  an  infinite  variety  of  situations  ;  it  keeps 
 alive  the  spirit  of  industry,  by  holding  out 
 continually  to  the  industrious,  the  hope  of 
 rising  to  new  distinction  among  their  bre¬ 
 thren  ;  it  unites  the  human  race  in  the 
 
 closest 
 
SERMON  XL 
 
 187 
 
 \ 
 
 closest  bonds  of  attachment,  while  it  re¬ 
 minds  all  orders  of  men,  that  they  are  mu¬ 
 tually  dependent  on  one  another  ;  and  im¬ 
 proves  the  human  condition,  by  rendering 
 the  exertions  of  every  individual,  in  his  own 
 particular  sphere,  more  conducive  than  they 
 would  otherwise  be,  to  the  general  happi¬ 
 ness  of  society. 
 
 It  must  be  acknowledged,  however,  that, 
 in  this  imperfect  state,  inequalities  frequent¬ 
 ly  appear,  which  call  for  the  interposition 
 of  the  generous. 
 
 Disasters  sometimes  arise,  which  no  pru¬ 
 dence  or  industry  can  prevent.  The  vices 
 of  one  man  involve  another  in  misery ;  by 
 the  death  of  a  parent  a  virtuous  family  is 
 left  destitute  ;  the  outward  events  of  life 
 happen  alike  unto  all ;  some  are  disquali¬ 
 fied  by  natural  defects  for  engaging  in  those 
 occupations  by  which  others  earn  their  sub¬ 
 sistence  ;  and  the  pressure  of  bodily  distress 
 often  makes  the  hands  of  the  diligent  to 
 hang  down. 
 
 Hence  arises  a  new  relation ;  a  relation 
 between  the  fortunate  and  the  miserable. 
 Let  both  parties  be  instructed  in  their  duty. 
 Let  the  most  indigent  of  the  sons  of  men 
 
 consult 
 
188 
 
 SERMON  XI. 
 
 consult  his  proper  monitor :  let  him  learn 
 his  duty,  not  from  the  suggestions  of  a  fret¬ 
 ful  temper,  or  from  any  visionary  system 
 of  morality  ;  but  let  him  consult  that  eter¬ 
 nal  law,  which  his  Creator  hath  engrav¬ 
 en  on  his  heart,  and  which  the  Scriptures 
 have  so  fully  explained.  From  this  sacred 
 monitor  he  will  learn,  that  he  ought  not 
 to  envy  his  more  fortunate  brethren  ;  that 
 their  riches,  if  they  have  not  been  acquired 
 unworthily,  are  to  be  regarded  as  the  gift 
 of  God  ;  that  the  property  of  his  wealthier 
 neighbours  is  held  by  a  sacred  right,  which 
 he  cannot  violate  without  injustice  ;  and 
 that  suffering  is  less  to  be  dreaded  than 
 guilt. 
 
 On  the  other  hand,  let  the  prosperous 
 learn,  that  they  too  have  their  duties  to 
 discharge  *,  that  their  wealth  is  an  impor¬ 
 tant  trust  committed  to  them  by  the  Ruler 
 of  the  world,  and  for  which  at  last  he  will 
 
 call  them  to  account. - Whatever  you 
 
 possess,  my  friends,  you  owe  to  the  bounty 
 of  your  Maker.  Even  for  the  riches,  which 
 are  the  fruit  of  your  own  industry,  you  are 
 indebted  to  him ;  for  he  hath  bestowed  on 
 you  the  faculties  which  have  enabled  you  to 
 
 acquire 
 
SERMON  XL 
 
 189 
 
 acquire  them.  His  are  the  possessions  which 
 your  fathers  have  bequeathed  to  you.  The 
 earth  IS  the  Lord's^  with  the  fulness  thereof 
 But  not  for  yourselves  alone  hath  he  bless¬ 
 ed  you  with  his  favours.  You  are  the  de¬ 
 positaries  of  his  bounty,  not  absolute  dis¬ 
 posers.  You  are  not  at  liberty  to  squander 
 his  gifts,  as  your  own  caprice  or  passion 
 may  dictate  ;  but  are  required  to  fulfil  the 
 purpose  of  the  giver. 
 
 Now,  this  purpose  may  easily  be  discover¬ 
 ed  ;  for  what  motive  could  influence  a  be¬ 
 nefactor  so  generous,  but  the  desire  of  dif¬ 
 fusing  happiness  as  extensively  as  possible  ^ 
 
 - — God  doth  not  require,  indeed,  that  every 
 person,  confining  himself  to  the  mere  ne¬ 
 cessaries  of  life,  should  consecrate  all  that 
 remains  to  the  purposes  of  charity.  As,  in 
 the  order  of  his  Providence,  one  man  is 
 blessed  with  greater  affluence  than  another, 
 it  must  surely  be  his  intention,  that  between 
 these  some  distinction  should  obtain.  Ex- 
 pences  may  in  one  station  be  innocent,  or 
 even  necessary,  which  in  another  would 
 be  extravagant  and  vicious.  But  in  few  si¬ 
 tuations,  are  men  totally  destitute  of  the 
 means  of  contributing  to  the  happiness  of 
 
 their 
 
190 
 
 SERMON  XL 
 
 their  fellow-creatures;  that  attention  and 
 frugality,  which  reason  and  religion  pre¬ 
 scribe,  will  generally  provide  enough  to  ful¬ 
 fil  the  demands  of  charity.  Now,  whatever 
 portion  remains  from  the  necessary  or  in¬ 
 nocent  expences  of  our  stations,  and  from 
 that  prudent  provision  which  it  becomes 
 us  to  make  for  the  future  exigences  of  our¬ 
 selves  and  our  families ;  this  is  a  fund  with 
 which  God  hath  furnished  us,  to  be  em¬ 
 ployed  in  the  exercise  of  beneficence  :  This 
 is  the  portion  of  the  poor  ;  this  is  sacred  to 
 their  use.  Their  claim  to  it  is  written  in 
 the  mind  of  man.  It  is  evinced  by  that 
 sympathy  with  which  your  Creator  hath 
 endowed  you.  Your  hearts  acknowledge 
 it  when  you  relent  at  their  distress. 
 
 God  hath  not  left  the  wretched  without 
 resource.  He  hath  ordained  that  compas¬ 
 sion  should  be  the  balm  of  misery.  As  in 
 the  order  of  his  providence,  many  of  his 
 creatures  were  destined  to  suffer  ;  that  the 
 afificted  might  not  seem  to  be  forgotten  by 
 their  Maker,  he  hath  implanted  in  the 
 human  breast  the  principle  of  sympathy, 
 which  prompts  their  more  fortunate  breth¬ 
 ren  to  assist  and  relieve  them.  This  senti¬ 
 
 ment 
 
SERMON  XL 
 
 m 
 
 ment  forms  an  essential  part  of  the  consti¬ 
 tution  of  man*  Desire  does  not  arise  more 
 naturally  from  the  perception  of  good  ;  fear 
 does  not  arise  more  naturally  from  the  ap¬ 
 prehension  of  evil,  than  pity  arises  from  the 
 view  of  distress.  I  appeal  to  yourselves  for 
 the  existence  of  this  principle  in  your  hearts. 
 Can  you  behold  without  pain  the  miseries  of 
 your  fellow-creatures  ?  and  is  not  this  pain 
 the  voice  of  your  Creator  calling  on  you  to 
 remove  the  sufferings  from  which  it  arises  ? 
 Is  it  not  the  language  of  nature  pleading  in 
 your  breasts  the  cause  of  the  unfortunate  ? 
 The  Scriptures  have  interpreted  this  lan¬ 
 guage  of  nature.  Withhold  not  good  from 
 him  to  whom  it  is  due,  when  it  is  in  the  power 
 of  thine  hand  to  do  it.  He  that  hath  two 
 garments,  let  Iwn  impart  unto  him  that  hath 
 none  j  and  he  that  hath  food,  let  him  do  like^ 
 wise. 
 
 The  selfish,  indeed,  seem  to  behold  in  the 
 whole  world  no  being  but  themselves.  For 
 them  alone  the  sun  arises,  the  dews  descend, 
 and  the  earth  yields  its  increase.  Such  were 
 the  sentiments  of  the  hard-hearted  Nabal. 
 Though  his  possessions  were  great, — though 
 the  mountains  were  covered  with  his  flocks, 
 
 he 
 
m 
 
 SERMON  XL 
 
 he  refused  the  little  that  would  have  satis¬ 
 fied  the  hunger  of  David  and  his  followers. 
 Who  is  David,  and  who  is  the  son  of  Jesse  ? 
 Shall  I  take  my  bread  and  my  water  and  give 
 it  unto  them  ?  Thy  bread  and  thy  water  ! 
 inconsiderate  man  !  Is  the  earth  thine  ? 
 Are  the  fountains  thine  ?  Didst  thou  create 
 the  hills,  on  which  thy  thousands  pasture  ? 
 Great  as  thy  possessions  are,  thou  art  an 
 unworthy  dependent  on  the  bounty  of  the 
 Lord  :  and  dost  thou  refuse  a  morsel  to  the 
 necessities  of  his  servant  ^ 
 
 11.  The  exercise  of  compassion  and  kind¬ 
 ness  to  our  brethren,  is  one  of  the  best  ex¬ 
 pressions  of  our  piety  to  God. 
 
 What  shall  we  render  to  the  Lord  for  all 
 his  mercies  ? — To  him  from  whose  bounty 
 We  derived  our  being  ;  to  him  by  whose 
 care  we  are  daily  preserved  ;  to  him  who 
 hath  surrounded  us  with  every  comfort ;  to 
 him  who  hath  redeemed  us  from  guilt  and 
 ruin,  and  raised  us  to  the  hope  of  immortal 
 life  ?  What  shall  we  render  to  the  Lord  for 
 all  his  mercies  ? — God  is  himself  exalted  a- 
 bove  the  reach  of  our  most  perfect  services : 
 our  goodness  doth  not  extend  to  him.  In¬ 
 habiting 
 
S  E  R  M  O  N  XL  193 
 
 habiting  the  praises  of  eternity ;  surround¬ 
 ed  by  hosts  of  angels  who  adore  him  ;  he 
 needs  not  our  feeble  voice  to  advance  the 
 glory  of  his  name.  Possessing  felicity  per¬ 
 fect  as  his  nature ;  possessing  the  universe*; 
 with  all  that  it  contains  ;  superior  alike  to 
 want  and  misery  ;  his  happiness  depends 
 not  on  any  services  which  we  can  perform. 
 What,  then,  shall  we  render  to  the  Lord 
 for  all  his  mercies  ?  Praise  is  a  tribute  which 
 is  due  to  his  goodness,  and  which  the  pious 
 heart  delights  to  pay  ;  but,  alas  !  our  praises 
 are  unprofitable  to  him.  If  he  required  sa¬ 
 crifice,  we  v\  ould  be  bound  to  offer  it  ;  but 
 all  the  beasts  of  the  forest  are  his ;  his  are 
 the  cattle  on  a  thousand  hills.  Is  there  no 
 
 r 
 
 being  in  the  universe,  then,  whom  our  piety 
 can  profit  ?  Yes ;  our  gratitude  to  the  Father 
 of  men  may  express  itself  by  kindness  to  his 
 children.  Though  God  be  superior  to  want, 
 yet  it  is  felt  by  his  offspring.  Though  God 
 be  superior  to  misery,  yet  it  is  the  portion  of 
 man.  Our  brethren  are  placed  within  the 
 reach  of  our  beneficence ;  and  our  charity 
 to  them  is  piety  to  our  Maker :  This  is  the 
 fast  which  he  hath  chosen  ;  this  is  the  sacri¬ 
 fice  which  he  hath  requiredi — to  loose  the 
 
 N  bands 
 
194 
 
 SERMON  XL 
 
 bands  of  wickedness^ — to  undo  the  heavy  bur^ 
 dens^ — to  free  the  ojjpressedy  and  to  break 
 every  yoke  :  it  is  that  thou  deal  thy  bread  to 
 the  hungry^ — that  thou  bring  the  poor  that 
 are  cast  out^  to  thy  house : — when  thou  seest 
 the  nakedi  that  thou  cover  him,  and  that  thou 
 hide  not  thyself  from  thine  oimi  flesh. 
 
 This  is  the  test  of  your  piety,  without 
 which  it  is  stamped  as  hypocritical.  No 
 fervours  of  religious  affection  will  atone  for 
 the  want  of  charity.  Your  alms  must  as¬ 
 cend  with  your  prayers  in  memorial  before 
 God.  If  your  hearts  have*  never  felt  a 
 brother’s  woes,  it  is  in  vain  that  they  rise 
 in  devotion  to  the  Father  of  mercies. — If 
 your  abundance  hath  never  relieved  a  bro¬ 
 ther’s  wants,  it  is  in  vain  that  you  offer  to 
 the  Lord  the  sacrifice  of  thanksgiving.  The 
 cries  of  the  miserable  ascending  to  Heaven 
 will  refute  your  professions  of  gratitude ; 
 and  your  praises  will  sound  as  blasphemy  in 
 the  ear  of  God.  To  what  purpose  is  the  mul¬ 
 titude  of  such  sacrifices  as  these  ?  I  will 
 have  mercy,  and  not  sacrifice,  saith  the  Lord, 
 When  you  spread  forth  your  hands,  I  will  hide 
 mine  eyes  from  you, — when  you  make  many 
 prayers,  I  will  not  hear.  Bring  no  more 
 
 vain 
 
SERMON  XL 
 
 195 
 
 ‘Vain  oblations^ — such  incense  is  an  abomina¬ 
 tion  unto  Tne.  Cease  to  do  evil — learn  to  do 
 •well — seek  judgment — relieve  the  oppressed 
 — judge  the  fatherless^  and  plead  for  the  wi¬ 
 dow _ It  is  thus,  too,  Christians,  that  the 
 
 Master  whom  you  serve  requires  you  to  tes¬ 
 tify  your  affection  for  him.  He  dwells  no 
 longer  in  this  troubled  scene.  He  hath 
 gone  to  take  possession  of  his  kingdom ; 
 and  is  exalted  far  above  the  reach  of  all  those 
 sufferings  and  sorrows  which  embitter  the 
 life  of  man.  But  the  poor  you  have  always 
 with  you.  The  poor  are  the  brethren  of 
 Jesus.  And  this  is  the  language  in  which 
 he  recommends  them  to  your  beneficence  : 
 Verily  I  say  unto  you,,  inasmuch  as  you  do  it 
 iinto  one  of  the  least  of  these,  ye  do  it  unto  me, 
 
 HI.  By  the  exercise  of  compassion  and 
 kindness  to  our  fellow-creatures,  we  pro¬ 
 mote  our  own  happiness. 
 
 It  is  more  blessed,  saith  our  Saviour,  to 
 give  than  to  receive.  Benevolence  being  a 
 principle  deeply  implanted  in  the  human 
 breast,  the  gratification  of  it,  like  that  of 
 every  other  natural  instinct,  must  be  a 
 source  of  pleasure.  A  favour  is  conferred 
 
 N  2  on 
 
196 
 
 SERMON  XL 
 
 on  the  generous  when  an  opportunity  is 
 presented  to  them  of  exercising  their  kind¬ 
 ness.  For  the  pleasure  which  they  taste  in 
 acts  of  compassion,  they  regard  themselves 
 as  debtors  to  the  wretched,  whom  they  suc¬ 
 cour,  What  is  it  that  renders  wealth  an 
 object  of  desire  ?  It  is  not  the  lustre  of  sil¬ 
 ver  or  of  gold, — it  is  not  any  intrinsic  value 
 which  we  imagine  they  possess.  Our  souls 
 must  be  distempered  and  grovelling  indeed, 
 if  we  can  contemplate  with  delight  our  ac¬ 
 cumulated  treasures,  which  our  miserable 
 spirits  have  not  the  fortitude  to  use.  If 
 wealth  is  never  to  be  employed  in  purchas¬ 
 ing  enjoyment,  it  is  of  no  avail  to  its  wretch¬ 
 ed  possessor  that  his  coffers  are  full.  It  is 
 only  by  converting  it  into  an  instrument  of 
 pleasure  that  he  can  bestow  on  it  any  real 
 value.  And  how  may  this  be  most  effec¬ 
 tually  done  ?  Not  by  rendering  it  subser¬ 
 vient  merely  to  sensual  gratification, — not 
 by  maintaining  a  croud  of  dependents,  who 
 may  flatter  and  despise  him.  The  other 
 pleasures  which  riches  can  procure  will  have 
 little  relish,  if  he  consecrate  not  a  portion 
 of  them  to  the  purposes  of  charity. 
 
 Compare  the  benevolent  with  the  selfish, 
 
 ^  in 
 
SERMON  XI. 
 
 1^7 
 
 ill  every  situation  of  life.  Place  them  in 
 affluence,  and  observe  how  they  differ.  The 
 happiness  of  the  selfish  man,  if  it  can  be 
 termed  happiness,  is  sordid  and  solitary. 
 No  one  rejoices  in  his  prosperity,  because  it 
 is  profitable  to  none.  While  he  refuses  to 
 the  hungry  the  offal  of  his  table,  he  enjoys 
 not  the  delicacies  with  which  it  is  covered. 
 The  thought  of  the  wretched  whom  he  hath 
 neglected,  damps  his  festivity,  while  it  fills 
 
 him  with  remorse.-: - But  the  benevolent 
 
 man,  on  the  other  hand,  hath  many  to  sym¬ 
 pathise  with  him.  In  his  prosperity  his 
 brethren  have  a  personal  interest.  The 
 poor  rejoice  when  his  riches  increase.  En¬ 
 vy  never  blasts  his  comforts.  Having  con¬ 
 secrated  the  first  fruits  of  his  abundance  as 
 an  oblation  to  the  Lord, — the  remainder  is 
 hallowed  for  his  own  use  ;  and  the  portion 
 which  he  employs  for  the  benefit  of  his  fel¬ 
 low-creatures,  purchases  a  flavour  to  the  en¬ 
 joyments  which  he  hath  reserved  for  himself. 
 
 Place  these  two  characters  in  adversity, 
 and  observe  how  they  differ  :  in  that  adver¬ 
 sity  from  which  riches  themselves  cannot 
 exempt  their  possessor.  Let  disease  assail 
 the  man  who  hath  shewn  no  compassion  to 
 
 N  3  his 
 
198 
 
 SERMON  XL 
 
 his  brethren.  How  ill  is  he  prepared  for 
 the  evil  day  ! — He  is  abandoned,  unpitied, 
 to  all  the  miseries  of  his  condition  ;  and  re¬ 
 morse,  for  having  neglected  the  distresses  of 
 his  brethren,  adds  to  his  own  the  acutest 
 sting. — No  tear  falls  for  his  sufferings, — no 
 prayer  ascends  in  his  behalf.  But  behold 
 the  benevolent  man  in  the  day  of  trouble  ! 
 A  thousand  reflections  occur  to  comfort 
 him.  From  the  kindness  which  he  hath 
 shewn  to  others,  arises  a  powerful  allevia¬ 
 tion  of  his  own  distress.  His  memory  is 
 stored  with  images  innumerable,  which  he 
 can  contemplate  with  delight,  and  forget 
 his  misery.  To  his  habitation  the  poor  re¬ 
 sort  with  anxious  inquiries.  He  is  tended 
 by  those  whom  his  bounty  hath  attached 
 to  him.  He  is  destitute  of  no  tender  office 
 that  can  mitigate  his  pain.  His  pillow*  is 
 smoothed  by  the  affection  of  his  friends, 
 and  their  sympathy  mingles  sweetness  in 
 
 his  cup  of  sorrow _ Yes,  my  friends,  there 
 
 is  something  in  the  compassion  of  our  fel¬ 
 low-creatures  ;  there  is  something  in  the 
 wishes  and  the  prayers  of  mankind,  which 
 is  sufficient  to  soften  the  bed  of  sickness, 
 and  to  lighten  affliction  of  half  its  load. 
 
 To 
 
SERMON  XL 
 
 19.9 
 
 To  complete  the  contrast,  let  sickness  in¬ 
 crease — let  death  approach.  Where,  now, 
 is  the  joy  of  the  selfish  ?  A  messenger  comes 
 to  spbil  him  of  those  treasures  in  which 
 centred  his  sordid  delight.  In  resigning 
 these  he  resigns  his  all.  And  to  whom 
 doth  he  resign  them  ?  To  one  who,  like 
 himsfelf,  will  be  destitute  of  a  heart  to  use 
 th'eih— lo  one  who  will  squander  them  in 
 the  pleasures  of  vice — or  to  one  who  will 
 employ  them  for  the  benefit  of  his  fellow- 
 creatures  ;  and  whose  character,  while  it 
 forms  a  contrast  to  his  own,  will  make  his 
 death  be  regarded  as  a  blessing  to  mankind. 
 In  the  grave  his  remembrance  is  buried  for 
 ever. 
 
 At  how  small  an  expence  might  he  have 
 provided  a  consolation  against  this  evil  day  ? 
 For,  behold!  the  benevolent  man  hath  com¬ 
 fort  in  his  death.  He  regarded  his  posses¬ 
 sions  as  a  trust  from  God — he  studied  to 
 fulfil  the  purpose  of  the  giver;  and  he  now 
 resigns  thfetn  cheerfully  to  his  wise  disposal. 
 His  eharity  itself,  indeed,  cannot  purchase 
 a  release  frbm  the  debt  of  nature.  Even 
 the  prayers  of  the  miserable  cannot  prolong 
 their  benefactor’s  life  beyond  the  destined 
 
 N  4  period. 
 
SERMON  XL 
 
 m) 
 
 period.  But  that  which  he  valued  most 
 shall  assuredly  survive  him.  His  kindness 
 hath  erected  in  many  a  heart  a  monument 
 to  his  name.  He  lives — he  lives  in  the 
 helpless  whom  he  hath  pitied,  and  in  the 
 orphan  whom  he  hath  reared.  His  alms 
 have  ascended  with  his  prayers  in  memorial 
 before  God.  His  place  is  prepared  in  the 
 jnansions  of  bliss.  His  Saviour,  whom  he 
 hath  loved,  and  pitied  in  his  brethren,  hath 
 paved  for  him  a  way  through  the  valley  of 
 death ;  and,  from  on  high,  the  voice  of  the 
 Judge  is  heard — Co?ne,  thou  blessed  of  my 
 Father,  inherit  the  kingdom  'prepared  for  thee 
 from  the  foundation  of  the  world. 
 
 Thus,  I  have  endeavoured  to  state  to 
 you  the  obligations  arising  from  interest 
 and  from  duty,  from  nature  and  from  reli-f 
 gion,  which  bind  you  to  pity  the  miseries, 
 and  to  relieve  the  wants  of  your  brethren, 
 To  the  benevolent  man  it  must  be  a  pleas¬ 
 ing  exercise,  to  consider  how  many  obliga¬ 
 tions  he  fulfils  by  every  act  of  compassion 
 and  kindness :  and  I  have  set  these  obliga¬ 
 tions  before  you  at  present,  rather  in  order 
 to  furnish  you  with  a  subject  of  holy  re¬ 
 joicing,  than  from  an  apprehension  that 
 
 yon 
 
SERMON  XL 
 
 201 
 
 you  need  to  be  exhorted  by  me  to  the  per¬ 
 formance  of  a  duty  so  delightful.  What¬ 
 ever  other  vices  may  disgrace  the  age  in 
 which  we  live,  it  will  not  surely  be  said, 
 that  the  want  of  charity  forms  any  part  of 
 its  character.  In  this  respect,  those  amongst 
 us  who  are  blessed  wdth  affluence  shew 
 themselves  worthy  of  the  advantages  which 
 they  enjoy,  that  they  are  at  all  times  ready 
 to  contribute  to  every  scheme  of  benefi¬ 
 cence.  The  poor  have  no  cause  to  com¬ 
 plain  that  they  are  destitute  of  friends ;  for 
 there  is  hardly  any  species  of  distress  that 
 can  befal  them,  for  which  the  generosity  of 
 their  fellow-citizens  hath  not  endeavoured 
 to  provide  a  remedy.  I  speak  not  merely 
 of  those  more  ancient  institutions,  which 
 provide  for  the  sick  the  means  of  recovery 
 — which  offer  an  asylum  to  the  orphan,  or 
 diffuse  the  cheering  light  of  the  gospel 
 through  the  remoter  corners  of  our  land; — 
 institutions  which  have  flourished  under  the 
 patronage  of  the  public,  till  they  have  ex¬ 
 tended  their  salutary  influence  far  beyond 
 any  expectations  which  their  original  found¬ 
 ers  could  have  formed.  I  speak,  also,  of 
 those  more  recent  institutions  which  have 
 
 arisen 
 
202 
 
 SERMON  XL 
 
 arisen  of  late  in  such  quick  succession,  and 
 which  afford  so  pleasing  an  evidence,  that 
 lote^  which  is  the  fulfilling  of  the  law,  still 
 adorns  the  Christian  profession. 
 
 Would  you  see  the  benevolence  of  your 
 Master  shining  in  the  conduct  of  his  ser¬ 
 vants — Go  to  such  societies  as  these.  See 
 them  providing,  with  anxious  care,  the 
 means  of  instruction  for  the  ignorant,  and 
 labouring  to  diffuse,  among  their  brethren, 
 the  knowledge  of  true  religion; — that  know¬ 
 ledge  which  purifies  the  heart — which  forms 
 it  to  contentment  and  peace- — which  con¬ 
 soles  it  under  every  sorrow,  and  restrains 
 it  from  every  crime.  See  them  acting  as 
 fathers  to  the  poor — soliciting  from  the 
 rich  and  the  prosperous  what  their  afflu¬ 
 ence  enables  them  to  bestow — and  distri¬ 
 buting  it  in  various  portions,  to  supply  the 
 wants  of  those  whose  industry  hath  been 
 interrupted  by  disease,  or  whose  labours, 
 even  in  the  season  of  health,  are  insuffi¬ 
 cient  for  the  maintenance  of  their  families. 
 
 The  promoters  of  such  institutions  as 
 these  are  the  real  friends  of  mankind.  They 
 leave  it  to  others  to  withdraw  the  industri¬ 
 ous  from  their  peaceful  occupaticns,  to 
 
 engage 
 
SERMON  XL 
 
 203 
 
 engage  them  in  those  dangerous  contests 
 which  lead  to  disorder  and  confusion,  to 
 alarm  them  with  frightful  descriptions  of 
 oppressions  which  have  no  existence,  and 
 to  impress  the  imaginations  of  the  credu¬ 
 lous,  till  they  render  the  happy  miserable. 
 
 Theirs  is  a  very  different  task.  It  is  to 
 act  as  intercessors  between  the  rich  and  the 
 poor,  to  seek  out  real  .distress,  and  to  pro¬ 
 vide  the  means  of  its  alleviation.  The  be¬ 
 nefits  which  they  confer  are  benefits  of  no 
 doubtful  nature.  Their  faith  is  shown  by 
 their  works.  They  say  not  to  their  indi¬ 
 gent  brethren — Be  ye  warmed.,  and  be  ye 
 filled — but  they  give  them  those  things  which 
 are  7ieedful  for  the  body.  They  prove  them¬ 
 selves  the  followers  of  him  who  went  about 
 continually  doing  goody  and  whose  conduct 
 was  one  uniform  display  of  peace  and  love. 
 
 And  now,  my  friends,  permit  me,  before 
 I  conclude,  to  direct  your  attention  to  the 
 labours  of  that  society  by  whose  appoint¬ 
 ment  I  now  address  you. 
 
 The  institution,  in  behalf  of  which  we 
 solicit  your  aid,  is  an  institution  of  the  most 
 benevolent  nature.  The  calamity  which 
 it  is  intended  to  alleviate,  is  one  of  the 
 
 severest 
 
SERMON  XL 
 
 severest  that  is  incident  to  the  human 
 condition.  Consider,  for  a  moment,  the 
 situation  of  the  man  who  is  deprived  of  the 
 blessing  of  sight.  To  how  many  suffer¬ 
 ings  is  he  subjected  ?  Disqualified  by  his 
 unhappy  lot,  for  engaging  in  those  occupa¬ 
 tions  by  which  others  earn  their  subsist¬ 
 ence,  he  is  left  in  a  condition  the  most  hu¬ 
 miliating  in  which  a  generous  mind  can  be 
 placed,  in  a  state  of  total  dependence  on 
 others.  He  must  lean  on  the  bounty  of 
 the  humane  for  food,  for  raiment,  for 
 guidance,  and  for  those  numberless  other 
 offices  which  his  helpless  situation  requires. 
 From  how  many  comforts  is  he  excluded  ! 
 The  sun  comes  forth  in  glory  to  cheer  the 
 face  of  nature,  but  not  for  him.  In  vain 
 for  him  doth  the  spring  put  forth  its  blos¬ 
 soms,  or  the  summer  array  itself  in  beauty. 
 He  sees  no  more  the  face  of  man  ;  nor 
 catches  those  tender  sympathies  which  beam 
 in  the  countenance  of  his  friend.  Shut  up 
 within  himself  as  in  a  dungeon,  he  is  left 
 to  brood  over  the  miseries  of  his  lot,  without 
 the  aid  of  any  external  object  to  call  him 
 from  the  contemplation  of  his  sufferings. 
 Yet  how  merciful  are  the  arrangernents  of 
 
 Providence  ! 
 
SERMON  XL 
 
 205 
 
 Providence  !  For  these  inconveniencies  are 
 often  compensated  to  the  blind  by  an  ex¬ 
 traordinary  power  of  attention,  which  im¬ 
 proves  their  other  senses,  and  enables  them, 
 by  degrees,  to  surmount  the  difficulties  with 
 which  they  are  destined  to  struggle.  When 
 their  circumstances  are  such  as  to  afford 
 them  the  means  of  education,  to  what  sur¬ 
 prising  attainments  in  knowledge  do  they 
 sometimes  advance  !  What  astonishing  in¬ 
 genuity  do  they  discover  in  remedying  the 
 disadvantages  of  their  lot !  How  complete¬ 
 ly  do  they  show  themselves  alive  to  all  the 
 pleasures  of  conversation  !  how  contented! 
 how  cheerful !  how  happy  ! 
 
 But  when  the  hardships  of  poverty  are 
 added  to  their  other  miseries,  their  condi¬ 
 tion  is  truly  deplorable.  To  a  person  in 
 this  unhappy  situation,  what  a  blessing  must 
 it  be  to  have  a  place  prepared  for  his  re¬ 
 ception,  where  he  may  be  instructed  in 
 some  of  those  useful  arts  which  even  the 
 blind  are  capable  of  acquiring — which  may 
 occupy  and  amuse  his  mind,  while  they 
 afford  him  the  pleasing  reflection  that  he 
 is  contributing  to  his  own  support !  What 
 a  blessing,  too,  to  those  who  can  no  longer 
 
 contemplate 
 
206 
 
 SERMON  XL 
 
 contemplate  God  in  the  works  which  he 
 hath  made,  to  be  taught  from  his  holy 
 word,  that  he  is  the  Friend  and  the  Pro¬ 
 tector  of  the  upright — that  he  hath  sent 
 his  Son  to  redeem  them  from  ruin — that 
 the  afflictions  which  in  this  life  they  are 
 called  to  endure,  are  the  discipline  of  an 
 affectionate  Parent — and  that,  if  here  they 
 serve  him  with  fidelity,  they  shall,  here¬ 
 after,  see  him  as  he  is, 
 
 .  Such,  my  friends,  are  the  objects  of  that 
 institution,  in  behalf  of  which  we  now  so¬ 
 licit  your  charity.  But  I  am  persuaded  it 
 is  sufficient  to  have  stated  the  case.  Your 
 own  hearts  will  suggest  the  arguments  to 
 enforce  it. 
 
 o 
 
 ON 
 
ON  HUMILITY. 
 
 SERMON  XII. 
 
 PSALMS,  CXXXVIIT.  6. 
 
 Though  the  Lord  be  high,  yet  hath  he  respect 
 %mto  the  lozvly  ;  but  the  proud  he  knoweth  cif  'ar 
 
 off- 
 
 x' HIS  passage  of  scripture  leads  us  to  con- 
 sider  the  virtue  of  humility — a  virtue  of 
 great  importance  in  the  Christian  life — in 
 discoursing  of  which,  by  the  divine  assist¬ 
 ance,  I  shall  endeavour,  in  the  first  place, 
 to  explain  its  nature ;  and,  then,  suggest 
 some  arguments,  with  a  view  to  recom¬ 
 mend  it. 
 
 Humility  is  a  general  temper  of  mind, 
 which  diffuses  its  influence  over  the  whole 
 of  our  conduct.  It  assumes  a  variety  of  ap¬ 
 pearances, 
 
208 
 
 SERMON  XII. 
 
 pearances,  corresponding  to  the  various  cir¬ 
 cumstances  in  which  we  are  placed.  It 
 will  be  necessary,  therefore,  that  I  present 
 it  to  your  view  in  several  different  aspects ; 
 and,  that  my  description  of  it  may  be  as  com¬ 
 prehensive  as  possible,  I  shall  endeavour  to 
 exhibit  it  in  the  three  following  lights : — 
 Fii'St,  As  it  affects  the  judgments  which  we 
 form  of  ourselves — Secondly^  As  it  affects 
 our  conduct  towards  our  brethren — and, 
 Thirdly^  As  it  affects  our  piety  to  God. 
 
 I.  In  the  first  place,  let  us  consider  hu¬ 
 mility  as  it  affects  the  judgments  which  we 
 form  of  ourselves.  In  this  view  it  must  be 
 carefully  distinguished  from  that  meanness 
 of  spirit  which  sinks  us  below  our  just  rank 
 in  our  own  esteem.  It  is  not  necessary, 
 that  we  should  be  altogether  unconscious 
 of  every  good  quality  which  we  possess ; — 
 that  we  should  be  continually  dissatisfied 
 and  disgusted  with  ourselves ;  nor  ever  taste 
 that  virtuous  joy  which  arises  from  the  ap¬ 
 probation  of  our  own  hearts,  and  which 
 our  Creator  hath  ordained  to  be  the  sup¬ 
 port  and  the  recompense  of  all  that  is  ex¬ 
 cellent  in  character.  Such  debasement  of 
 
 mind 
 
SERMON  XII. 
 
 209 
 
 mind  is  productive  of  the  very  worst  ef¬ 
 fects.  It  fosters  indolence- — it  checks  every 
 generous  exertion,  and  prepares  us  for  what¬ 
 ever  is  low  and  contemptible  in  conduct. 
 As  we  are  required' to  be  candid  in  our 
 judgments  of  others,  *  so  we  are  permitted* 
 to  be  candid  also  in  our  judgments  of  our-' 
 selves.  Though  we  are  exhorted  not  to  think 
 of  ourselves  more  highly  than  we  ought  to 
 think^  we  are  nowhere  exhorted 'to  treat 
 our  own  characters  with  injustice*  'The 
 temper  which,  in  opposition  to  arrogance^ 
 we  are -  commanded  to  cultivate^*  is  not 
 meanness,  but  sobriety  of  mind. 
 
 This  is  an  extreme,  however,  in  'which 
 men  are  not  generally  prone  to  err ;  and 
 we  may  safely  leave  it  to  that  self-partiality 
 which  is  to  closely  interwoven  with  human, 
 nature, to  state  almost  to  every  person  the 
 abatements  which  are  to  be  made  in  the 
 law  of  humility.  It  is  more  necessary  that 
 we  caution  them  against  the  opposite  ex¬ 
 treme,,  to  which,  by  their  nature,  they  are 
 more 'strongly  disposed.  Now,  real  humi¬ 
 lity,  as  distinguished  from  meanness,  and 
 opposed  to  arrogance  of  mind,  consists  in 
 forming  a  just  and  moderate  opinion  of 
 
 o 
 
 our 
 
210 
 
 SERMON  XIL 
 
 our  own  endowments  and  merits.  It  dis¬ 
 poses  us  to  examine  our  character  with  im¬ 
 partiality — it  suffers  not  self-love  to  mag¬ 
 nify  our  good  qualities— it  contrasts  our  im¬ 
 perfections  with  our  virtues — it  compares 
 our  own  excellencies  and  defects  with  those 
 which  are  discernible  in  the  characters  of 
 others,  and  permits  us  not  to  rise,  in  our 
 own  esteem,  above  the  rank  which  we  real¬ 
 ly  possess  among  our  brethren  around  us. 
 The  humble,  indeed,  do  not  necessarily  re¬ 
 gard  themselves  as  the  unworthiest  of  all 
 with  whoni  they  are  acquainted  ;  but,  while 
 they  acknowledge  and  admire  in  many  a 
 degree  of  excellence  which  they  have  not 
 attained,  they  perceive,  even  in  those  to 
 whom  they  are  in  some  respects  superiors, 
 much  to  praise,  and  much  to  imitate.  Con¬ 
 ceiving  modestly  of  their  own  abilities,  they 
 are  not  rash  in  forming,  nor  inflexible  in 
 maintaining,  their  opinions.  They  ^think 
 maturely,  and  decide  with  caution ;  and 
 their  minds  are  open  to  receive  all  the  ad¬ 
 ditional  light  which  time,  or  better  oppor¬ 
 tunities,  can  supply.  They  regard  not  their 
 own  first  judgments  as  infallible  standards  of 
 right  and  wrong  j  but  are  ever  disposed  to 
 
 perceive 
 
 2 
 
SERMON  XII. 
 
 <211 
 
 perceive  and  acknowledge  their  errors,  and 
 to  become  wiser  by  discovering  their  ig¬ 
 norance.  Conceiving  niodestly>  likewise,  of 
 their  moral  attainments,  they  suffer  not 
 pride  to  tarnish  the  lustre  of  their  virtues. 
 Regarding  the  improvement  of  their  hearts, 
 and  the  regulation  of  their  conduct,  as  du¬ 
 ties  which  they  could  not  neglect  without 
 dishonour,  they  are  not  elated  by  all  that 
 is  amiable  in  their  sentiments,  or  useful  in 
 their  actions.  They  do  not  consider  their 
 brethren  as  indebted  to  them  for  those  of¬ 
 fices  of  kindness  which  they  perform  from 
 native  feeling,  or  from  a  sense  of  what  they 
 owe  ;  and  though  they  cannot  review  what 
 is  right  in  their  conduct,  without  a  gene¬ 
 rous  satisfaction,  they  enjoy  the  testimony 
 of  a  good  conscience  without  the  guilt  of 
 presumption.  They  acknowledge  the  im¬ 
 perfection  which  accompanies  their  wor¬ 
 thiest  dispositions  :  they  glory  not  in  their 
 greatest  and  most  generous  deeds ;  but, 
 while  they  behold  with  pleasure  their  grow¬ 
 ing  virtues,  they  regret  that  they  have  not 
 yet  attained  the  excellence  after  which  they 
 aspire. 
 
 0  2 
 
 II. 
 
SERMON  NIL 
 
 2  12 
 
 11.  Such  sentiments,  with  regard  to  our 
 own  characters,  will  have  a  powerful  influ¬ 
 ence  in  regulating  our  conduct  towards  our 
 brethren  — -and  this  is  the  second  view  in 
 which  I  proposed  to  consider  humility. 
 
 Under  the  former  head,  I  distinguished 
 it  from  that  meanness  of  spirit  which  sinks 
 us  below  our  just  rank  in  our  own  esteem  ; 
 and  I  would  now  distinguish  it  from  that 
 cringing,  servile  behaviour,  which  is  often 
 mistaken  for  it ;  but  which  is,  in  truth,  at 
 once  a  meanness  and  a  vice.  There  are 
 many  persons  who  conceal  much  pride  un¬ 
 der  an  external  show  of  modesty.  To  a  su¬ 
 perior  they  are  all  mildness  and  submission. 
 They  Watch  his  every  look  and  gesture — 
 they  listen  attentively  to  every  sentiment 
 which  he  utters,  and  fall  easily  into  every 
 opinion  which  he  expresses — they  approach 
 him  with  respect— they  comply  with  his 
 humour— in  his  presence  they  seem  to  sink 
 
 r  * 
 
 into  nothing  -in  their  own  esteem.  But, 
 with  all  this  show  of  humility,  they  are 
 total  strangers  to  the  virtue  which  the  text 
 recommends.  It  is  timidity,  it  is  self-in¬ 
 terest  alone,  that  imposes  on  them  these 
 restraints^  Their  behiiviour,  in  other  situ¬ 
 ations. 
 
SERMON  XII. 
 
 213 
 
 ations,  proves,  that  their  conduct  in  these 
 instances  is  insincere ;  for,  observe  how 
 they  demean  themselves  towards  those  from 
 whom  they  have  nothing  to  fear,  and  no¬ 
 thing  to  hope.  They  are  not  more  sub- 
 .missive  to  their  superiors,  than  to  their  in¬ 
 feriors  they  are  distant  and  tyrannical; 
 and  they  exact,  with  high  interest  from 
 the  mean,  the  tribute  which  they  pay  to 
 the  great.  Place  them  in  a  more  elevated 
 station — let  them  attain  that  height  towards 
 which  they  now  creep  by  a  thousand  base 
 servilities,  and  they  will  look  down  with 
 contempt  even  on  those  by  whose  influ¬ 
 ence  they  have  ascended.  In  all  this  con¬ 
 duct  there  is  none  of  that  humility  which 
 the  scriptures  require.  It  is  deceit  and 
 meanness  unworthy  of  a  man  ;  nor  is  pride 
 itself  without  a  share  in  its  production;  for 
 pride  and  meaimess  are  far  from  being  in¬ 
 compatible.  Such  persons  betray  a  secret 
 consciousness  of  their  superiority  to  those 
 on  whose  weakness  they  practise ;  whom, 
 under  colour  of  the  profoundest  respect, 
 they  degrade  into  mere  instruments  for 
 promoting  their  designs.  But  that  kumble- 
 '7iess  of  Mmd  which  .Christianity  exhorts  us 
 
 03  to 
 
1214 
 
 SERMON  Xir. 
 
 to  put  071^  is  a  real,  an  uniform  principle. 
 It  is  the  same  in  all  varieties  of  situation  ; 
 it  is  affected  by  no  distinctions  of  rank. 
 To  the  low  it  condescends  without  degrad¬ 
 ing  the  character — to  the  high  it  pays  its 
 homage  without  assentation  or  servility. 
 Founded  on  a  moderate  conception  of  our 
 own  ability,  it  disposes  us  to  listen  with  re¬ 
 spect  to  the  opinions  of  others  ;  arising 
 from  a  just  sense  of  our  own  imperfection, 
 it  teaches  us  to  make  allowance  for  their 
 errors  and  defects.  In  its  external  manner 
 it  is  placid  and  unassuming.  It  expresses 
 itself  by  the  mildness  of  its  look,  and  the 
 gentleness  of  its  language.  It  claims  not — 
 it  expects  not  any  extraordinary  attention ; 
 its  own  importance  is  forgotten  amidst  its 
 courtesy  to  others.  It  is  not  ambitious  of 
 dazzling  the  eye.  It  conceals  its  superior¬ 
 ity,  that  it  may  impose  no  restraint ;  and, 
 though  its  charms  increase  as  it  retires  from 
 view,  yet  it  is  unconscious  of  the  attractions 
 by  which  it  wins  our  hearts. 
 
 III.  This  virtue,  influencing  the  judg¬ 
 ment  which  we  form  of  ourselves,  and  di¬ 
 recting  our  conduct  in  our  intercourse  with 
 
 our 
 
SERMON  XIL 
 
 215 
 
 our  brethren,  prepares  us  for  discharging, 
 in  the  most  becoming  manner,  the  various 
 duties  which  we  owe  to  our  Maker.  In 
 the  presence  of  that  God  whose  majesty 
 fills  the  heavens  and  the  earth,  the  humble 
 prostrate  themselves  on  their  native  dust. 
 Their  ov/n  limited  knowledge  is  annihil¬ 
 ated  in  their  esteem,  when  they  consider 
 the  height  and  the  depth  of  the  judgments  of 
 God ;  and  their  own  imperfect  goodness  is 
 lost  to  their  view,  when  they  contemplate 
 that  diffusive  bounty  by  which  the  universe 
 is  blest.  Feeling  and  acknowledging  the 
 feebleness  of  their  minds,  they  receive,  with 
 gratitude,  the  revelation  of  heaven.  Con¬ 
 fessing  themselves  surrounded  on  all  hands 
 by  doubts  and  darkness,  they  affect  not  to 
 penetrate  that  thick  veil  with  which  the 
 Almip;hty  hath  encompassed  his  nature  and 
 his  providence ;  but,  while  they  value  and 
 improve  the  light  which  he  imparts,  they 
 are  prepared  to  believe  and  to  trust,  though 
 they  cannot  comprehend.  In  their  reli¬ 
 gious  services  there  is  no  ostentation.  When 
 they  approach  the  temple  of  the  Lord,  to 
 which  in  mercy  he  invites  them,  it  is  to 
 fall  down  before  him,  and  to  acknowledge 
 
 o  4  that 
 
216' 
 
 SERMON  XIE 
 
 I 
 
 that  they  are  nothing.  The  ardour  of  their 
 devotions  is  tempered  with  that  reverence 
 which  is  due  to  the  Lord  of  nature,  and  the 
 Judge  of  men.  They  are  ashamed  to  raise 
 their  eyes  to  his  holy  place  :  Hoi<d  shall  they 
 bow  themselves  before  the  most  high  God? 
 They  court  not  the  eye  or  the  admiration 
 of  their  brethren.  Their  praises  are  not 
 heard  amidst  the  acclamations  of  hypo¬ 
 crites  ;  but  the  gentle  voice  of  their  purer 
 hearts  rises,  grateful,  to  the  ear  of  Heaven. 
 Their  employment  is  with  God  alone.  It 
 is  to  acknowledge  his  favours,  of  which  they 
 confess  themselves  unworthy ; — it  is  to  be¬ 
 wail  their  transgressions,  which  they  recol¬ 
 lect  with  heartfelt  sorrow; — it  is  to  adore 
 the  mercy  which  continues  to  regard  them ; 
 — it  is  to  repeat  the  vow  which  they  regret 
 to  have  broken,  or  to  bless  the  grace  which 
 hath  enabled  them  to  perform  it.  If,  at 
 any  time,  their  good  deeds  occur  to  their 
 minds,  they  minister  not  to  pride,  but  in- 
 ■  flame  their  piety.  By  thy  favour,  0  God! 
 I  am  what  I  am.  To  thy  name  doth  the 
 glory  pertain. 
 
 Such  is  the  humility  which  true  religion 
 inspires  ; — a  virtue  which  accords  with  the 
 
 human 
 
SERMON  XII. 
 
 217 
 
 human  condition — a  virtue  which  adorns 
 every  other  virtue — which  exalts  the  man 
 while  it  seems  to  abase  him — the  gentle 
 lustre  of  the  character,  which  pleases  with¬ 
 out  injuring  the  eye. 
 
 I  proceed,  now,  to  suggest  some  argu¬ 
 ments,  with  a  view  to  enforce  the  duty 
 which  I  have  thus  endeavoured  to  explain. 
 
 1.  Consider,  in  the  first  place,  the  influ¬ 
 ence  of  this  amiable  virtue  on  the  happi¬ 
 ness  of  human  life. 
 
 Humility  hath  something  inviting  in  its 
 appearance, '  which  attracts  and  wins  our 
 hearts.  While  the  distant  manner  of  the 
 proud  man  repels  the  approaches  of  his 
 fellow-creatures,  and  debars  him  from  the 
 pleasure  of  their  society,  the  gentle  aspect 
 of  the  humble  encourages  their  advances, 
 and  promises  them  a  friendly  reception. 
 Men  will  not  long  associate  with  us  on  un¬ 
 equal  terms.  Even  by  those  whom  we  ac¬ 
 knowledge  our  superiors,  we  like  not  to  be 
 continually  reminded  that  we  are  beneath 
 them.  We  wish  to  enjoy  ourselves  in  the 
 company  of  our  brethren;  and  w^e  shun 
 the  society  of  those  whose  presence  imposes 
 
 3  on 
 
218 
 
 SERMON  XII. 
 
 on  us  a  perpetual  restraint.  The  proud 
 man  hath  few  to  visit  his  abode.  In  the 
 desertion  of  mankind  he  is  punished  for 
 '  the  contempt  which  he  so  imprudently 
 pours  on  them ;  and  in  his  empty  habita¬ 
 tion  he  is  left  to  feed  on  his  own  import¬ 
 ance  with  solitary  joy.  His  temper,  in¬ 
 deed,  necessarily  secludes  him  from  the 
 company  of  his  fellow-creatures ;  for  his 
 intercourse  with  them  is  a  scene  of  perpe¬ 
 tual  mortification.  Ever  expecting  atten¬ 
 tions  which  they  are  not  disposed  to  yield, 
 he  is  continually  disappointed  and  chagrin¬ 
 ed.  A  word,  or  a  look,  which  betokens  less 
 respect  than  he  imagines  he  deserves,  is 
 misery  to  his  distempered  soul.  Hence  that 
 peevishness  of  mind  which  renders  him  so 
 wretched  in  himself,  and  so  vexatious  to  all 
 who  are  around  him— Hence  that  hatred 
 of  mankind,  which  is  the  last  stage  of  hu¬ 
 man  depravity. 
 
 But  how  difi’erent  from  this  is  the  situ¬ 
 ation  of  the  man  who  hath  learned  to  think 
 soberly  of  himself.  Advancing  to  meet  the 
 approaches  of  his  fellow-creatures,  he  asso¬ 
 ciates  with  them  on  terms  of  equality.  In 
 his  presence  they  are  free  from  restraint : 
 
 — they 
 
SERMON  <Xir. 
 
 219 
 
 — they  relax  their  minds — they  unbosom 
 their  cares — they  converse  with  him  as  their 
 friend  and  their  brother,  and  he  relishes 
 the  pleasure  of  their  society.  Impressed 
 with  a  modest  opinion  of  his  own  deserts,  he 
 receives  from  every  person  more  attention 
 than  he  claims.  Estimating  aright  the  me¬ 
 rit  of  others,  he  is  disposed,  in  his  turn,  to 
 show  himself  attentive  to  them.  Elis  in¬ 
 tercourse  with  mankind  is  a  mutual  ex¬ 
 change  of  -respect  and  kindness ;  and  he 
 retires  from  society  pleased  with  himself, 
 and  pleased  with  his  brethren. 
 
 The  votary  of  pride  rushes  headlong  into 
 disgrace  and  ruin.  Confident  of  his  abili¬ 
 ties,  he  intrudes  himself  into  a  sphere  in 
 which  he  is  not  qualified  to  move ;  and, 
 while  he  challenges  admiration,  he  becomes 
 an  object  of  contempt.  The  hatred  which 
 his  arrogance  excites,  checks  that  compas¬ 
 sion  with  which  men  would  otherwise  con¬ 
 template  his  weakness ;  and  his  brethren 
 conspire  to  degrade  him  from  a  station 
 which  he  hath  so  presumptuously  assumed. 
 Envy  directs  against  him  her  blasting  eye 
 — Malice  lanches  her  poisoned  darts  ;  and 
 when  he  falls,  he  falls  unpitied. — From  all 
 
 these 
 
I 
 
 220  SERMON  XII. 
 
 these  evils  humility  rescues  tlw  lowly.  The 
 humble  exercise  not  themselves  in  great  7nat- 
 terSy  nor  in  things  that  are  too  high  for  them. 
 They  thrust  themselves  into  no  station 
 which  they  are  not  qualified  to  fill ;  but, 
 assuming  their  just  and  natural  rank,  they 
 acquit  themselves  with  honour,  and  are 
 treated  with  respect.  At  rest  in  their  own 
 minds  from  all  the  anxieties  of  ambition, 
 they  excite  neither  hatred  nor  jealousy  in 
 the  breasts  of  their  brethren.  The  veil 
 which  covers  their  merit,  secures  it  against 
 the  assaults  of  envy  and  detraction.  The 
 shade  which  humility  throws  around  their 
 virtues,  enables  us  to  comtemplate  them 
 without  offence,  like  the  cloud  through 
 which  we  behold  without  injury  the  splen¬ 
 dour  of  the  sun. 
 
 Humility  is  the  true  path  to  glory.  It 
 leads  to  respect,  which  is  the  more  valuable 
 for  being  voluntarily  bestowed,  and  the  more 
 secure  for  being  enjoyed  with  moderation  ; 
 for,  though  men  will  not  suffer  honour  to 
 be  seized  by  the  arrogant,  they  will  confer 
 it  cheerfully  on  the  deserving.  While  they 
 thrust  back  the  insolent,  who  advance  with 
 too  precipitant  a  pace,  they  stretch  forth 
 
 their 
 
SERMON  XII. 
 
 CfO  j 
 
 their  hands  to  help  forward  the  "modesty 
 and  to  raise  them  to  the  distinction  after 
 which  they  do  not  aspire.,  He  that  exalt- 
 eth  himself  shall  be  humbled^  but  he  that  hum- 
 bleth  himself  shall  be  exalted. 
 
 As  you  wish  then,  my  friends,  to  enjoy 
 with  comfort  the  society  of  your  fellow- 
 creatures — -as  you  wish  to  escape  those  per¬ 
 petual  mortifications  to  which  the  proud 
 are  exposed — as  you  wish  to  live  secure 
 from  the  assaults  of  envy,  of  jealousy,  and 
 of  detraction, — to  all  your  virtues  add  the 
 virtue  of  humility.  Are  you  desirous  that 
 your  talents  and  abilities  may  procure  you 
 respect  ?  Display  them  not  ostentatiously 
 to  public  view.  Beware  of  dictating  your 
 opinion  superciliously  to  others ;  and  if,  'at 
 any  time,  your  charity  prompt  you  to  in¬ 
 struct  them,  let  your  admonitions  be  con¬ 
 veyed  with  meekness  of  wisdom.  Would 
 you  escape  the  envy  which  your  riches 
 might  excite  ?  Let  them  not  minister  to 
 pride,  but  adorn  them  with  humility.  Con¬ 
 vince  your  brethren  that  your  minds  are 
 too  firm  to  be  elated  by  a  distinction  so 
 uncertain  and  transient,  and  they  will  not 
 
 envv 
 
222 
 
 SERMON  XIL 
 
 envy  you  advantages  for  which  you  do  not 
 value  yourselves. 
 
 Do  you  wish  to  enjoy  your  honours  un¬ 
 impaired  and  entire  ?  Enjoy  them  with 
 moderation,  and  adorn  them  with  humi¬ 
 lity.  Condescend  to  the  meanest  of  your 
 brethren.  Treat  them  with  that  attention 
 and  respect  which  is  due  to  your  common 
 nature,  and  their  wishes  and  efforts  will  se¬ 
 cure  to  you  the  greatness  which  they  do 
 not  feel  to  be  oppressive.  He  that  exalteth 
 his  gait  seeketh  destruction;  but  honour  shall 
 uphold  the  humble. 
 
 j  Do  you  wish  that  your  virtues  may  be 
 acknowledged,  and  your  errors  treated  with 
 indulgence  ?  Boast  not  of  any  good  qua¬ 
 lities  which  you  possess.  Preserve  conti¬ 
 nually  on  your  minds  a  just  sense  of  your 
 imperfection.  Men  will  not  be  forward  to 
 expose  the  frailties  of  which  you  show  your¬ 
 selves  conscious ;  they  will  admire  your 
 virtues  the  more,  that  their  lustre  seems  to 
 be  hidden  from  your  own  eyes.  The  cen¬ 
 sures  of  the  malicious  lose  all  their  force  on 
 a  mind  which  can  acknowledge  its  own  de¬ 
 fects.  The  applauses  of  the  good  are  doubly 
 grateful  to  the  man  who  knew  not  that  he 
 had  deserved  them. 
 
 ON 
 
THE  SAME  SUBJECT  CONTINUED. 
 
 SERMON  XIII. 
 
 PSALMS,  CXXXVIIIV'G.  ' 
 
 » \ 
 
 Though  the  Lord  be  high,  yet  hath  he  respect  unto 
 c  the  lowly  ;  but  tjie  pr'oudj  he  hwwetli  ajar  off. 
 
 In  a  former  .discourse,  I  endeavoured  to 
 explain  thci  nature  of  that  humility  which 
 true  religion  inspires,  and  to  point  out  to 
 you  its  influence  on  the  happiness  of  life  ; 
 and  I  proceed  now,  through  the  divine  as¬ 
 sistance,  to  shew  you,  in  the  second  place, 
 that  this  amiable  disposition,  so  conducive 
 to  your  comfort,  is  calculated,  also,  to  pro¬ 
 duce  the  most  salutary  effects  on  the  whole 
 tenor  of  your  conduct. 
 
 Not  only  is  pride  itself  a  vicious  disposi¬ 
 tion,  it  is  the  parent,  also,  of  innumerable 
 
 vices ; — 
 
SERMON  XIII. 
 
 vices ; — imprudence,  selfishness,  resentment, 
 injustice,  and  oppression,  all  march  in  its 
 train.  Pride  is  the  beginning  of  sin^  and  he 
 that  hath  it,  shall  poor  forth  abomination. 
 Trace  every  vice  to  its  source,  and  you  will 
 perceive  that  this  principle  hath  generally 
 some  share  in  its  production.  Whence 
 spring  those  indiscretions  and  miscarriages 
 into  which  multitudes  are  continually  be¬ 
 trayed  ?  From  an  ill-grounded  confidence 
 in  their  own  ability,  which  leads  them  to 
 decide  rashly,  and  to  act  with  precipita- 
 tion^  What  is  the  reason  i  that  Uhe  hearts 
 of  others  never  glow  with  one  generous 
 sentiment  It  is  pride  which  renders 
 them  ever  in  their  own  eyes  the  .sole  ob-^ 
 ject  of  regard.  Why  do  we  behold  the> 
 vindictive  boiling  with  ^  resentment  and' 
 fury  ?  It  is  because  their  extravagant  con¬ 
 ceptions  of  their  own  importance  have^ 
 magnified  somedrivial  omission  into  an  ih^* 
 tolerable  insult.  Why  are  they  deaf  to" 
 every  apology  that  can  be  ioflfered  It,  is 
 because  no  apology  seems  sufficient  to  atone 
 for  an  offence  which  their  pride  hath  exag-^ 
 gerated  beyond  all  reasonable , bounds.  Why 
 doth  the  oppressor  treat  his  dependents  with' 
 
 every 
 
SERMON  Xm. 
 
 225 
 
 every  species  of  cruelty  ?  It  is  because  he 
 regards  himself  as  a  being  of  a  superior  or¬ 
 der,  and  considers  his  fellow-creatures  as 
 wretches  who  were  born  to  serve  him. 
 Why  doth  the  tyrant  invade  the  property 
 of  his  less  powerful  neighbour  ?  If  the 
 bounds  of  justice  are  transgressed,  is  it  not 
 often  because  we  respect  not  the  rights  of 
 our  brethren,  whom  our  pride  hath  taught 
 ns  to  despise  ?  Doth  Ahah  govern  the  king¬ 
 dom  of  Israel^  and  shall  Naboth  refuse  his 
 vineyard  to  the  king?  Why  are  the  hearts 
 of  many  persons  callous  to  the  wants  and 
 the  sufferings  of  their  fellow -creatures  ?  It 
 is  because  their  pride  acknowledges  not  a 
 brother  in  the  person  of  the  wretched. 
 Who  is  Davidj  and  who  is  the  son  of  Jesse  ? 
 shall  I  take  my  bread  and  my  water,  and  give 
 it  unto  him  ?  And  as  pride  thus  prepares 
 its  votary  for  the  practice  of  vice,  so  it  leads 
 him  to  disregard  and  violate  every  obliga¬ 
 tion  that  might  restrain  him  in  his  course. 
 His  haughty  spirit  will  acknowledge  no  su¬ 
 perior, — will  submit  to  no  control.  His 
 own  distempered  fancy  is  iri  his  eyes  the 
 standard  of  right  and  wrong,  and  he  de¬ 
 spises  equally  the  dictates  of  conscience,  and 
 
 p  the 
 
‘226 
 
 SERMON  XIII. 
 
 the  decisions  of  mankind.  To  the  senti¬ 
 ment  of  piety  his  breast  is  a  stranger.  How 
 can  his  haughty  soul  address  itself  to  prayer  ? 
 Will  he  stoop  to  acknowledge  his  guilt  and 
 his  weakness,  or  to  implore  the  mercy  and 
 the  aid  of  heaven  ? 
 
 Humility,  on  the  other  hilndr  prepares  us 
 for  whatever  is  excellent  in  conduct.  That 
 caution  and  diffidence  with  which  it  is  al¬ 
 ways  accompanied,  exempts  us  from  innu¬ 
 merable  indiscretions.  While  it  teaches  us 
 to  respect  the  rights  of  our  fellow-creatures, 
 it  suffers  us  not  to  be  unjust,  or  oppressive, 
 or  cruel.  Placing  us  on  a  level  with  every 
 human  being,  it  disposes  us  to  do  unto  others 
 whatsoever  we  would  that  they  should  do  unto 
 us.  Moderating  our  ideas  of  our  own  im¬ 
 portance,  it  suffers  us  not  to  be  exorbitant 
 in  our  claims  of  respect.  It  is  not  apt  to 
 conceive  itself  injured.  It  is  neither  prone 
 to  resentment,  nor  averse  to  return  to 
 peace.  Acknowledging  in  the  meanest  of 
 mankind  a  friend  and  a  kinsman,  it  is  alive 
 to  every  generous  emotion.  It  regards  its 
 own  little  interests  as  matter  of  no  conside¬ 
 ration  in  comparison  of  the  more  import¬ 
 ant  concerns  of  others ;  and  in  the  cries 
 
 5  of 
 
SERMON  XIIL 
 
 22r 
 
 of  the  humblest  sufferer  it  hears  the  Voice 
 of  a  brother's  misery. 
 
 Humility  is  the  soil,  also,  in  which  piety 
 flourishes.  It  disposes  us  to  feel  and  ac-- 
 knowledge  our  dependence  on  God,  to  be¬ 
 wail  the  transgressions  by  which  we  have 
 offended  him,  and  to  look  up  to  him  for 
 mercy  and  grace.  Possessed  of  this  amiable 
 temper,  we  submit  our  understandings  to 
 be  taught  by  his  word,  and  our  affections 
 to  be  controlled  by  his  authority  :  Speak, 
 Lord,  for  thp  servant  heareth.  We  receive 
 his  favours  with  double  gratitude,  while 
 we  acknowledge  that  they  exceed  our  me¬ 
 rits  ;  we  submit  to  his  chastisements  with¬ 
 out  a  murmur,  while  we  confess  that  they 
 are  less  than  we  deserve :  Lordy  I  am  less 
 than  the  least  of  thy  mercies — What  is  a  liv¬ 
 ing  man,  that  he  should  complain  ? 
 
 The  humble  are  prepared  to  derive  from 
 every  source  some  assistance  to  their  virtue. 
 Their  past  miscarriages,  which  they  recol¬ 
 lect  with  regret  5  the  admonitions  of  their 
 friends,  to  which  they  listen  with  deference; 
 even  the  reproaches  of  their  enemies,  which 
 they  sometimes  perceive  to  be  just; — all  mi¬ 
 nister  to  their  improvement.  Their  ears 
 
 p  2 
 
 are 
 
SERMON  Xm. 
 
 are  shut  against  the  voice  of  flattery,  which 
 would  deceive  them,  to  their  ruin  ;  they 
 prefer  the  counsels  of  the  ingenuous,  who 
 remind  them  of  their  errors  :  When  the  right- 
 eo2is  S7nite  theftn^  the^  regard  it  as  a  kind¬ 
 ness^ — when  the  prudent  reprove  theTn^  they 
 account  it  an  excellent  oil.  Estimating  mo¬ 
 derately  their  present  attainments,  they  as¬ 
 pire  after  higher  perfection ;  and  there  is 
 no  stage  of  their  progress  in  piety  and  vir¬ 
 tue,  in  which  they  perceive  not  much  to 
 be  amended  in  their  conduct,  and  much  to 
 be  added  to  their  characters.  They  count  not^ 
 that  they  have  aWeady  attained.,  either  are  al¬ 
 ready  perfect ;  but  forgetting  the  dhings  that 
 are  behind,  they  rxach  forth  unto  those  things 
 that  are  before,  and  press  towards  the  mark, 
 for  the  prize  of  the  high  calling  of  God,  which 
 is  in  Christ  Jesus  their  Lord.  As  you  wish, 
 then,  to  improve  in  virtue,  and  to  grow 
 in  grace,  cultivate  in  your  breasts  this  ami¬ 
 able  disposition.  Subdue  the  first  risings 
 of  pride,  and  you  will  kill  in  their  root  a 
 thousand  vices.  Labour  to  acquire  hum¬ 
 bleness  of  mind,  and  you  will  sow  the  seeds 
 of  a  thousand  virtues.  Cast  down  all  high 
 imaginations,  and  every  thing  that  exalteth 
 
 itself 
 
SERMON  XIII. 
 
 229 
 
 itself  against  the  knowledge  of  God^  and  then 
 shall  every  thought  be  brought  mto  captivity^ 
 unto  the  obedience  of  Christ. 
 
 III.  It  remains,  now,  only,  that  I  set  be^ 
 fore  you  such  views  of  the  human  condition 
 as  may  serve  to  form  you  to  this  amiable 
 temper. 
 
 Frailty  and  dependence  are  characters 
 strongly  impressed  on  the  nature  and  the 
 condition  man..  Whether  we.  consider 
 him-  in  the  commencement,  in  the  progress, 
 or  in  the  conclusion  of  his  present  existence, 
 he  appears  to  be  a  forlorn  and  helpless  be¬ 
 ing.  While  nature  clothes  the  inferior  crea¬ 
 tures  with  a  parent’s  hand,  man  comes  into 
 the  world  naked  and  defenceless.  His  feeble 
 life  would  perish  in  its  commencement, 
 were  it  not  for  the  care  of  those  to  whom 
 his  infancy  is  intrusted.  While  he  hangs 
 dependent  on  the  affection  of  his  mother, 
 the  first  efforts  of  his  voice  are  heard  in  the 
 cries  of  want  and  suffering.  For  a  long  pe¬ 
 riod  of  years,  incapable  either  of  procuring 
 his  subsistence,  or  directing  his  conduct,  he 
 leans  on  the  bounty  and  wisdom  of  others  for 
 nourishment  and  guidance.— By  them  he 
 
 P  3  .  is 
 
230 
 
 SERMON  XIIL 
 
 is  taught  to  obtain  the  comforts  which  he 
 is  formed  to  desire,  or  to  lessen  the  mi¬ 
 series  which  he  is  born  to  suffer.  Eve?i  at 
 his  best  estate^  he  is  altogether  vanity.  Fed 
 by  the  fruits  of  the  earth  which  he  inha¬ 
 bits  ;  cherished  by  the  influences  of  the 
 heavens  which  cover  him ;  dependent  on 
 the  aid  of  others  for  almost  all  the  ac¬ 
 commodations  and  comforts  of  life ;  in 
 himself  he  possesses  not  the  means  of  his 
 happiness.  Subject  to  miseries  which  he 
 hath  not  power  to  avert ;  affected  by  all 
 the  vicissitudes  of  the  seasons ;  the  sport 
 of  a  thousand  accidents,  and  the  victim 
 of  a  thousand  cares ;  he  finds  not  rest 
 nor  security  on  earth.  Placed  in  a  world 
 in  which  he  is  surrounded  by  wonders ; 
 ignorant  of  the  cause  of  almost  all  that 
 he  beholds ;  lost  in  the  contemplation 
 of  his  Maker’s  excellence ;  to  himself  a 
 mystery  which  he  cannot  explain,  he  be¬ 
 holds  himself  encompassed  on  all  hands  by 
 doubts  and  darkness  ;  his  wisdom  folly, 
 and  his  researches  vain.  Pursuing  a  hap¬ 
 piness  which  eludes  his  grasp  ;  following 
 the  phantoms  of  wealth  and  of  grandeur; 
 in  possession  he  feels  the  emptiness  of  all 
 
 that 
 
SERMON  XIII. 
 
 331 
 
 that  before  he  had  desired,  and  laments  that 
 the  path  of  obscurity,  and  the  path  of  glory, 
 lead  equally  to  the  grave. 
 
 To  a  being  thus  circumstanced,  it  might 
 seem  unnecessary  to  recommend  the  virtue 
 of  humility  ;  for  surely  jyride  was  not  made 
 for  man^  nor  a  high  look  for  him  that  ivas 
 horn  of  d  woman. 
 
 Yet  how  ill,  often,  doth  the  temper  of 
 man  accord  with  his  condition  ! — This  son 
 of  earth — this  child  of  misery — this  crea¬ 
 ture  of  a  day,  how  vast  and  glorious  doth 
 he  sometimes  appear  in  his  own  eyes !  , 
 Elated  by  a  wisdom  of  which  he  considers 
 not  the  imperfection  ;  proud  of  honours  of 
 which  he  perceives  not  the  emptiness,  and 
 trusting  to  riches  of  which  h6  forgets  the 
 uncertainty  ;  he  looks  around  him  often, 
 with  emotions  but  ill  suited  to  his  sphere. 
 
 A  little  reflection  might  be  sufficient  to 
 chastise  this  arrogance  of  mind.  Let  him 
 review  his  wisdom  and  tell  us  its  extent.  To 
 how  many  important  subjects  is  he  as  yet  a 
 stranger  !  and  even  of  the  few  which  he 
 hath  studied,  how  little  doth  he  know  ! 
 Hath  he  investigated  all  the  wonders  of  his 
 own  frame  ? — Can  he  explain  completely 
 
 p  4  the 
 
232 
 
 SERMON  XIII. 
 
 the  operations  of  that  mind  of  whose  en¬ 
 dowments  he  is  so  inconsiderately  vain  ? 
 In  the  objects  which  surround  him,  how 
 many  mysteries  occur  ?  A  few  of  their  pro¬ 
 perties,  by  long  attention,  he  hath  disco¬ 
 vered  ; — with  many  even  of  these  he  is  as 
 yet  unacquainted  ;  and  their  intrinsic  nature 
 is  beyond  the  reach  of  his  powers.  '•How  are 
 his  faculties  bewildered  in  his  enquiries  con¬ 
 cerning  the  nature  and  the  works  of  God ! 
 Doth  he  comprehend  that  power  which, 
 sustains  the  earth  in  the  empty  space,-— 
 which  preserves  the  planets  in  their  circles, 
 and  impels  them  in  their  course, — which 
 maintains  among  systems  unnumbered  an 
 uninterrupted  harmony  ^  After  much  pain¬ 
 ful  investigation,  he  hath  invented  a  name, 
 and  he  fancies  himself  wise  because  he  can 
 express  his  ignorance.  Ask  at  those  who 
 have  grown  old  in  the  study  of  nature,— at 
 those  whose  discoveries  have  ei;ilightened  the 
 world',  and  who  have  carried  human  science 
 to  the  utmost  limits  which  it  hath  hitherto 
 attained  ; — ask  at  them,  and  if,  with  their 
 other  acquirements,  they  have*  acquired  the 
 wisdom  to  make  an  ingenuous  confession, 
 they  will  acknowledge^  that  the  most  certain, 
 
 2  by 
 
SERMON  XIII. 
 
 233 
 
 by  far,  of  all  their  discoveries,  is  the  narrow¬ 
 ness  and'"  imperfection  of  the  human  mind* 
 Let  not  the  wise  man^  then^  glovy  in  his  wis- 
 dom^  but  while  he  enjoys*  and  communicates 
 the  fruitSi  of  his  researches,  let  him  enjoy 
 without  pride,  and  communicate  without 
 arrogance.  Let  him  cultivate  that  humble¬ 
 ness  of  mind  which  is  the  consummation  of 
 wisdom  in  a  being  destined  to  know  only  in 
 part,  and  to  see  darkly.  While  he  regards 
 not  the  humblest  as  unworthy  to  be  in^ 
 structed,  let  him  not  disdain,  even  from 
 the  humblest,  to  learn.  Let  him  adore  the 
 kindness  and  compassion  of  God,  who  hath 
 himself  condescended  to  become  the  in¬ 
 structor  of  man  and  while  he  receives  with 
 gratitude  the*,  revelation  of  heaven,  in  the 
 study  of  religion,  as  in  every  other  study, 
 let  him  be  prepared  to  believe,  and  to  trust, 
 though  he  cannot  comprehend. 
 
 Nor  is  that  pride  which  is  founded  on  the 
 honours  and  distinctions  of  life,  more  suit¬ 
 ed  to  the  uncertainty  of  the  human  condi¬ 
 tion.  A  little  attention  may  convince  their 
 possessor  that  such  greatness  is  vain,  if  un¬ 
 accompanied  with  those  substantial  virtues 
 which  alone  can  bestow  on  him  any  real 
 
 dignity. 
 
234 
 
 SERMON  XIII. 
 
 dignity.  Let  him  view  his  situation  with 
 the  eye  of  reason  ;  let  him  recollect  the 
 humble  steps  by  which  he  ascended  to  his 
 present  eminence  ;  let  him  contemplate 
 the  uncertain  ground  on  which  he  stands, 
 and  the  awful  height  from  which  the  small¬ 
 est  blast  may  occasion  his  fall ;  let  him  con¬ 
 sider  these  things,  and  he  will  perceive  in 
 his  condition  much  reason  for  caution  and 
 vigilance,  but  none  for  pride  or  insolence 
 of  mind.  Let  him  derive  a  lesson  from  the 
 fate  of  others,  who  once,  like  him,  imagin¬ 
 ed  themselves  great.  Deserted  by  the  pa¬ 
 trons  to  whom  they  owed  their  preferment, 
 they  are  consigned  to  the  obscurity  from 
 which  they  were  originally  raised.  Their 
 greatness  was  oppressive  to  all  who  were 
 beneath  them,  They  have  none  to  lament 
 their  fall,  which  they  have  laboured  to  de¬ 
 serve  ;  and  their  former  honours,  which 
 they  could  not  enjoy  with  moderation,  have 
 served  only  to  aggravate  the  load  of  their 
 present  disgrace. 
 
 But  let  us  carry  to  its  utmost  limits  the 
 grandeur  of  man  ;  let  us  unite  in  the  lot  of 
 one  individual  all  that  is  great  and  desir¬ 
 able  on  earth ;  let  us  bestow  on  him  wis¬ 
 dom, 
 
SERMON  XIII. 
 
 255 
 
 dom,  and  wealth,  and  honours,  and  power  ; 
 let  these  remain  with  him  unimpaired  till 
 the  conclusion  of  his  life ;  and  when  he  hath 
 finished  his  course,  let  us  visit  his  tomb. 
 What  now  remains  to  him  of  all  that  his 
 wisdom  hath  devised,  of  ail  that  his  riches 
 have  purchased,  of  all  that  his  power  hath 
 achieved  ?  This  narrow  dismal  mansion, 
 in  which  his  dust  is  blended  with  that  of 
 the  meanest'  of  men,  this  is  the  end  of  all 
 his  labours  under  the  sun.  The  grave  is  the 
 great  school  of  humility  to  man.  Ey  shew¬ 
 ing  us  the  human  race  in  their  native  equa¬ 
 lity,  it  checks  that  presumption  which  is 
 founded  on  the  distinctions  of  a  day.  What 
 though  your  wisdom  hath  astonished  the 
 world  ?  It  cannot  teach  you  to  elude  the 
 approach  of  death.  What  though  your 
 riches  have  enabled  you  to  shine  for  a  while 
 in  every  giddy  scene  ?  They  cannot  pur¬ 
 chase  a  release  from  the  debt  of  nature. 
 What  though  your  power  hath  made  the 
 nations  to  tremble  ?  It  cannot  resist  the 
 assaults  of  the  king  of  terrors.  His  hand 
 levels  the  victor  with  the  vanquished,  and 
 carries  them  equally  captive  to  his  dark 
 abode.  Solomon  made^  unto  himself  great 
 
 works  j 
 
^36 
 
 SERMON  XIII. 
 
 works  ;  he  huilded  houses^ — he  planted  vine- 
 yards^ — he  gathered  to  himself  gold  and  sil¬ 
 ver,  and  the  peculiar  treasure  of  kings  and 
 provinces  ;  and  he  was  great,  and  increas¬ 
 ed  more  than  all  that  were  before  him  in 
 Jerusalem  ;  also  his  wisdom  remained  with 
 him;  and  whatsoever  his  eyes  desired,  he 
 kept  not  fi'om  them  ;  he  with-held  not  his 
 heart  fi'om  any  joy  ;  for  his  sold  rejoiced  in 
 all  his  labour.  Tet,  when  he  looked  on  all 
 the  woi'ks  which  his  hands  had  wrought,  and 
 on  all  the  labours  which  he  had  laboured  to 
 do,  behold!  all  was  vanity  and  vexation  of 
 spirit ;  for  he  knew  this  sore  evil  which  he 
 had  seen  under  the  sun  ;  that  in  all  points  as 
 a  man  cometh  into  the  world,  so  shall  he  gOi 
 — that  he  can  take  nothing  of  his  labour  which 
 he  may  cany  in  his  hand,  and  that  he  hath 
 no  pi'ofit  in  having  travelled  for  the  %mnd. 
 
 From  this  great  example,  let  us  derive  a 
 lesson  of  wisdom.  Let  no  elevation  of  rank 
 deprive  us  of  that  moderation  of  mind 
 which  is  suited  to  the  uncertainty  of  our 
 condition.  Let  not  any  temporary  distinc¬ 
 tions  ever  efface  from  our  minds  the  recoL 
 lection  of  our  common  origin,  and  our 
 common  end ,  but  let  us  treat  the  meanest 
 
 of 
 
SERMON  XIIL 
 
 237 
 
 of  our  brethren  with  that  attention  and  re¬ 
 spect  which  they. are  entitled  to  claim  from 
 those  who,  like  themselves,  are  derived  from 
 the  dust,  and  who  shall  return  to  the  dust 
 like  them.  Amen. 
 
 ON 
 
ON  DETRACTION^ 
 
 f  \ 
 
 SERMON  XIV. 
 
 TITUS  III.  2. 
 
 Put  men  in  mind  to  speak  evil  of  no  man. 
 
 T HESE  words  are  a  part  of  Paul’s  admoni¬ 
 tions  to  Titus,  his  brother  and  fellow-la¬ 
 bourer  in  the  work  of  the  Lord.  They  di¬ 
 rect  our  attention  to  a  duty  which  is  too 
 seldom  regarded  in  a  religious  view  ;  a  du¬ 
 ty,  however,  of  great  importance  in  the 
 Christian  life,  and  which,  in  compliance 
 with  the  apostle’s  exhortation,  I  shall  en¬ 
 deavour,  through  the  divine  assistance,  to 
 illustrate  and  enforce. 
 
 I  begin  with  observing,  that  the  precept 
 which  Titus  is  here  commanded  to  incul¬ 
 cate,  must  be  understood  with  some  limita¬ 
 tions.  There  is  a  feebleness  and  facility  of 
 
 mind, 
 
SERMON  XIV. 
 
 239 
 
 mind,  v/hich  is  incapable  of  distinguishing 
 the  deserving  from  the  worthless.  This  is 
 not  a  virtue,  but  a  defect.  There  is  an  af¬ 
 fectation  of  gentleness,  which  bestows  on 
 all  characters  alike  an  indiscriminate  ap¬ 
 plause.  This  is  a  conduct  at  once  insigni¬ 
 ficant  and  disingenuous.  We  are  consti¬ 
 tuted  by  God,  in  a  certain  degree^  the 
 guardians  of  one  another’s  innocence.  The 
 praise  and  the  blame  which  we  mutually 
 bestow  are  a  part  of  the  sanctions  of  his 
 righteous  law ;  and  we  are  bound  to  distri¬ 
 bute  them  with  an  impartial  hand,  for  the 
 chastisement  of  vice  and  the  encourage¬ 
 ment  of  virtue.  It  is  only  rash  and  incon¬ 
 siderate  censures  which  the  teachers  of  re¬ 
 ligion  are  commanded  to  reprove ;  and  to 
 abstain  from  these  will  be  the  study  of 
 every  person  who  is  ambitious  to  distin¬ 
 guish  himself  as  a  disciple  of  Jesus.  The 
 Christian,  who  is  animated  by  the  spirit  of 
 his  Master,  marks  the  actions  of  his  fellow- 
 creatures  with  an  indulgent  eye ;  with  a  de¬ 
 sire  to  applaud  rather  than  to  blame.  When 
 their  conduct  is  doubtful,  he  inclines  al¬ 
 ways  to  the  favourable  side.  He  gives  to 
 it  the  ’gentlest  and  most  charitable  con¬ 
 struction 
 
240 
 
 SERMON  XIV. 
 
 struction ;  he  makes  every  possible  allow¬ 
 ance  for  the  frailty  of  their  nature,  and  the 
 temptations  to  which  their  situation  may 
 have  exposed  them ;  nor,  on  any  occasion 
 whatever,  doth  he  lay  more  to  their  charge 
 than  their  conduct  necessarily  and  unavoid¬ 
 ably  implies.  Even  when  their  vices  are 
 obvious  and  indisputable ;  when  Ee  feels 
 himself  obliged  to  disapprove  and  condemn  > 
 he  is  not  prone  to  publish  their  miscon¬ 
 duct,  or  to  degrade  them  unnecessarily  in 
 the  estimation  -of  the  world.  He  blames 
 them  with  reluctance  and  regret ;  not  with 
 that  malicious  affectation  of  regret  which  is 
 sometimes  employed  to  give  to  slander  an 
 acuter  sting  ;  but  with  that  heartfelt  pity 
 which  flows  from  charity,  from  a  sincere 
 regard  to  his  brethren’s  good. 
 
 I  proceed  now,  through  the  divine  assist¬ 
 ance,  to  comply  with  the  apostle’s  admoni¬ 
 tion  in  the  text,  by  enforcing  the  precept 
 which  I  have  thus  endeavoured  to  explain.. 
 
 I.  Consider,  in  the  first  place,  then,  that 
 rash  and  inconsiderate  censures  are  incon¬ 
 sistent  with  the  justice  which  you  owe  to 
 your  brethren, 
 
 The 
 
SERMON  XIV. 
 
 24] 
 
 The  Author  of  our  nature  hath  wisely 
 ordained,  that  approbation  should  follow 
 virtue  as  its  natural  reward.  This  the  vir¬ 
 tuous  are  allowed  to  propose  to  themselves 
 as  an  inferior  motive  of  conduct ;  and  this 
 they  expect  as  what  belongs  to  them  of 
 right.  The  esteem  which  a  man  hath  me¬ 
 rited  by  his  integrity  and  usefulness,  may 
 be  considered  as  a  property  of  which  he 
 cannot  innocently  be  deprived ;  and  the 
 extent  of  the  injury  done  by  detraction,  is 
 proportioned  to  the  value  of  the  possession 
 which  it  invades.  Now,  what  interest  is 
 dearer  to  the  ingenuous  than  the  preserva¬ 
 tion  of  their  good  name  ?  Next  to  their 
 integrity  itself,  it  is  the  object,  in  this  life, 
 which  they  are  most  anxious  to  secure. 
 For  this  they  value  not  any  temporary  pro¬ 
 fit.  For  this  they  decline  no  labours  of  du¬ 
 ty.  For  this  they  are  superior  to  the  fear  of 
 death.  In  this  they  hope  to  survive  the 
 wreck  of  all  that  is  mortal  in  their  frame. 
 
 On  those  who  have  unhappily  outlived 
 their  reputation,  no  external  advantages 
 can  confer  felicity.  They  relish  not  the 
 prosperity  of  which  they  are  reckoned  un¬ 
 worthy  j  for  envy  blasts  every  comfort  of 
 
 0^  their 
 
i242 
 
 SERMON  XIV. 
 
 their  lot.  They  sink  under  the  pressure  of 
 misfortunes,  which  are  regarded  as  the  pu¬ 
 nishment  of  their  guilt ;  for  pity,  the  balm 
 of  the  wretched,  is  not  extended  to  them. 
 Every  joy  vanishes  with  their  ruined  cha¬ 
 racter  ;  and  we  behold  them  sometimes  fly¬ 
 ing  to  death,  to  hide  themselves  from  re¬ 
 proach. 
 
 To  those  who  possess  this  inestimable 
 treasure,  how  inconsiderable  are  all  the  in¬ 
 juries  of  men !  The  oppressor  may  strip 
 you  of  your  worldly  substance ;  he  may 
 bereave  you  of  your  liberty,  a  richer  bless¬ 
 ing  ;  he  may  consign  you  to  the  miseries 
 of  indigence  and  confinement,  sequestered 
 from  the  society  of  mankind  and  the  light 
 of  heaven.  Yet,  if  the  voice  of  your  bre¬ 
 thren,  according  with  the  dictates  of  your 
 own  consciences,  acquit  you  of  guilt ; — if 
 their  regret  and  sympathy  attend  you  in 
 your  dark  abode ; — the  assurance  of  this  will 
 mitigate  the  severity  of  your  fate  ;  will  en¬ 
 able  you  to  despise  the  tyrant’s  wrongs ; 
 t6  support  the  horrors  of  solitude,  and  the 
 absence  of  day.  And,  will  you  dare  to 
 trifle  with  a  right  so  sacred,  with  a  pro^’ 
 petty  so  inestimable?  You  are  not  aware 
 
 of 
 
SERMON  XIV. 
 
 243 
 
 of  the  injustice  which  you  commit.  You 
 detest  the  villain  who  robs  the  industrious 
 of  their  well-earned  store ;  you  abhor  the 
 oppressor  who  plunders  the  innocent  and 
 the  deserving  of  the  means  of  their  support ; 
 yet  how  light  and  trivial  are  such  injuries 
 as  these,  in  comparison  of  the  ruin  of  their 
 virtuous  name,  which,  even  in  the  midst  of 
 poverty,  would  ensure  them  respect. 
 
 Would  men  weigh  duly  the  mischiefs 
 which  detraction  occasions,  that  pernicious 
 humour  would  be  less  frequently  indulged; 
 for  it  is  not  always  from  malice,  and  cruel¬ 
 ty  of  nature,  that  detraction  proceeds  :  it 
 arises,  often,  from  an  inconsiderate  gaiety 
 of  mind,  and  means  not  to  ruin  the  cha¬ 
 racter  which  it  delights  to  expose.  The 
 effects  of  such  conduct  are  not>  perhaps, 
 obvious,  because  they  are  not  immedi¬ 
 ate  ;  but  they  are  not,  on  this  account, 
 the  less  certain,  or  the  less  direful.  With 
 a  man’s  reputation' his  usefulness  and  suc¬ 
 cess  are  closely  connected ;  and  one  un¬ 
 guarded  expression  may  involve  a  deserving 
 family  in  want  and  wretchedness.  Beware, 
 then,  of  trifling  with  the  rights  and  the 
 happiness  of  your  brethren.  Will  you  sport 
 
 0^  2  with 
 
^44 
 
 SERMON  XIV. 
 
 ^i£:ith  firehrandSi  and  arrows^  and  death  f 
 Other  injuries  may  be  exactly  estimated, 
 and  admit  of  redress.  But  how  shall  you 
 estimate,  or  how  redress  the  evils  arising 
 from  a  blasted  reputation  ?  The  only  com¬ 
 pensation  which  you  can  possibly  make,  is 
 to  vindicate  the  violated  character  at  the 
 expence  of  your  own  ;  and  this  is  an  atone¬ 
 ment  most  humiliating  to  yourselves,  yet 
 to  the  unhappy  sufferer  often  of  little  avail ; 
 for  many  listen  with  avidity  to  the  tale  of 
 slander,  who  will  lend  to  your  exculpation 
 an  indifferent  ear ;  nor  will  your  influence 
 be  sufficient  to  repair  the  reputation  which 
 your  levity  or  your  baseness  hath  ruined. 
 Consider,  in  the  second  place, 
 
 11.  That  a  censorious  turn  of  mind  is 
 destructive  also  oi  your  own  felicity* 
 
 The  man  who  is  addicted  to  this  odious 
 vice,  acquires,  by  degrees,  an  unhappy  a- 
 cuteness  in  marking  the  imperfections  of 
 his  brethren.  His  malignant  imagination 
 instantly  throws  a  veil  over  whatever  is 
 fair  and  illustrious,  and  aggravates  every 
 feature  that  is  irregular  or  distorted.  The 
 faculty,  which  he  is  at  so  much  pains  to 
 
 3  cultivate, 
 
SERMON  XIV. 
 
 24o 
 
 cultivate,  becomes  quick  and  discerning  ; 
 and  they  are  the  blemishes  of  character 
 only  that  present  themselves  to  his  view. 
 To  him,  therefore,  the  society  of  men  can 
 have  no  charms ;  for  he  beholds  in  every 
 human  being  an  object  of  dislike.  Is  not 
 that  man’s  mind  ill  formed  for  happiness, 
 who,  amidst  the  various  appearances  which 
 nature  exhibits,  dwells  always  on  such  as 
 are  dismal  and  destructive  ;  who  observes 
 only  the  inhospitable  desert,  the  blasting 
 lightning,  and  the  wintry  storm ;  but  marks 
 not  the  beauties  which  adorn  the  spring, 
 the  riches  which  descend  in  the  shower,  or 
 the  stores  with  which  autumn  gladdens  the 
 earth  ? 
 
 Such,  precisely,  is  the  temper  which  de-- 
 traction  forms  in  its  unhappy  votary.  It 
 is  blind  to  every  excellence  of  character, 
 and  acute  only  in  discerning  defects.  Esteem 
 and  confidence  are  strangers  to  his  breast ; 
 hatred  and  suspicion  inhabit  and  disturb 
 his  mind.  In  the  worthiest  of  his  acquaint¬ 
 ance  he  perceives  always  something  to  de¬ 
 spise  or  detest ;  and,  in  the  warnaest  of  his 
 friends,  something  to  alienate  his  affections, 
 and  destroy  his  trust.  Thus  he  becomes 
 
 0.3  the 
 
SERMON  XIV. 
 
 U6 
 
 the  victim  of  his  own  guilt.  His  temper 
 is  rendered  peevish  and  fretful.  Every 
 source  of  social  pleasure  is  shut  up  or  poi¬ 
 soned,  and  he  lives  among  his  brethren  as 
 in  a  hostile  land. 
 
 Nor  does  his  happiness  suffer  merely 
 from  the  effect  of  detraction  on  his  own 
 disposition.  His  conduct  renders  him  an 
 object  of  general  aversion.  Even  his  gay 
 companions,  whom  his  destructive  pleasant¬ 
 ry  may  entertain  for  a  season,  despise  and 
 dread  the  promoter  of  their  mirth.  They 
 know  that  the  edge  of  his  satire  will  soon 
 be  turned  against  themselves ;  and  that 
 their  own  characters  are  destined  to  bleed 
 by  the  very  same  weapons  by  which  others 
 have  been  assailed. 
 
 Those  who  have  suftered  by  his  calumny, 
 are  entitled  to  vindicate,  at  his  expence, 
 their  injured  reputation  ;  and  every  friend 
 of  innocence  will  aid  them  in  the  attempt, 
 Merely  to  refute  his  slander,  implies  a  re¬ 
 proach  to  which  no  prudent  man  would 
 choose  to  expose  himself.  But  how  rarely 
 doth  human  resentment  confine  itself  with¬ 
 in  such  moderate  bounds.  The  rage  of  the 
 injured  will  probably  prompt  them  to  reta- 
 
 6  liate. 
 
SERMON  XIV. 
 
 247 
 
 Hate.  The  security  of  others  will  seem  to 
 be  concerned  in  the  cause.  It  will  not  ap¬ 
 pear  sufficient  that  the  aspersion  be  remov¬ 
 ed.  The  character  of  the  detractor  is  de¬ 
 voted  to  ruin.  Every  latent  imperfection 
 is  aggravated  and  exposed  to  view ;  and  if 
 truth  and  justice  are  both  sacrificed  at  the 
 altar  of  revenge,  such  resentment,  indeed, 
 is  excessive  and  vicious,  but  the  guilty  suf¬ 
 ferer  will  hardly  dare  to  complain.  From 
 the  world  he  hath  no  title  to  expect  either 
 defence  or  sympathy.  Fie  hath  impru¬ 
 dently  excited  against  himself  a  combina¬ 
 tion  of  foes,  and  connected  his  own  de¬ 
 struction  with  the  safety  of  all.  His  hand 
 is  against  evevy  man,  and  every  man  s  hand 
 is  against  him.  Many  are  the,  eyes  that 
 watch  for  his  stumbling ;  many  are  the 
 ears  that  are  open  to  the  tale  of  his  shame. 
 In  the  snare  which  he  hath  laid  for  others, 
 his  own  feet  are  entangled,  and  he  falls  by 
 the  sword  which  he  hath  whetted  against  his 
 brethren.  What  man  is  he  who  desireth  life, 
 who  loveth  many  days  that  he  may  see  good? 
 Keep  thy  tongue  from  evil.  Judge  not,  that 
 you  be  not  judged ;  for  with  whatsoever 
 judgment  you  judge^  you  shall  be  judged,  and 
 
 4  with 
 
24« 
 
 SERMON  XIV. 
 
 xmtJi  whatsoever  measure  you  7n.ete,  it  shall 
 he  measured  unto  you  again. 
 
 To  conclude — Let  this  awful  declaration 
 of  our  Master  be  ever  present  to  our  minds, 
 that,  in  deciding  our  eternal  fate  at  the 
 great  day  of  retribution,  God  will  have  re¬ 
 spect  to  the  tenor  of  our  own  conduct  in 
 judging  our  brethren.  The  Almighty  hath 
 solemnly  pledged  himself  to  be  the  avenger 
 of  every  injured  reputation.  The  miseries 
 to  which,  in  the  present  life,  the  detractor 
 exposes  himself,  are  a  part  of  the  punish¬ 
 ment  which  his  guilt  deserves ;  and  the 
 universal  hatred  and  desertion  of  mankind; 
 is  an  anticipation  of  that  dreadful  sentence 
 which  shall  leave  him  abandoned  also  by 
 his  Maker. 
 
 Unto  the  merciful,  God  will  shew  himself 
 merciful.  But,  can  that  man  presume  to 
 solicit  the  compassion  of  his  Judge,  who 
 hath  ever  marked  with  severity  the  errors 
 of  his  brethren  ?  Is  he  qualified  for  ming¬ 
 ling  in  the  society  of  the  perfect,  among 
 whom  there  is  neither  inclination  nor  sub¬ 
 ject  for  slander,  or  prepared  to  inhabit 
 those  blessed  regions,  which  are  the  abode 
 of  charity,  and  gentleness,  and  love 
 
 Lord  ! 
 
SERMON  XIV. 
 
 249 
 
 Lord !  who  shall  abide  in  thy  tabernacle^ 
 who  shall  dwell  in  thy  holy  hill?  He  that 
 backbiteth  not  with  his  tongue,  nor  taketh 
 np  a  reproach  against  his  neighbour. 
 
 ON 
 
THE  SAME  SUBJECT  CONTINUED. 
 
 =7======: 
 
 SERMON  XV. 
 
 TITUS  III.  2. 
 
 Put  men  in  mind  to  speak  evil  of  no  man. 
 
 In  a  former  discourse,  after  illustrating 
 the  precept  which  Titus  is  here  commanded 
 to  inculcate,  I  suggested  some  arguments 
 with  a  view  to  enforce  it.  I  shewed  you,  at 
 considerable  length,  that  rash  and  uncha¬ 
 ritable  censures  are  inconsistent  with  the  jus¬ 
 tice  which  you  owe  to  your  brethren,  and 
 destructive  of  your  own  felicity. 
 
 III.  I  proceed,  now,  to  shew  you,  in  the 
 third  place,  that  a  censorious  turn  of  mind 
 is  a  disposition  extremely  unsuitable  to  the 
 imperfection  of  the  human  condition. 
 
 To 
 
SERMON  XV. 
 
 251 
 
 I'd  constitute  an  infallible  judge  of  con¬ 
 duct,  a  variety  of  qualities  are  requisite, 
 which  reside  only  in  the  suprenae  Being,  the 
 Judge  of  all.  We  see  only  the  outward  ac¬ 
 tions  of  men,  and  are  unable  to  trace  them  to 
 the  various  motives  which  give  them  birth, 
 and  on  which  their  real  character  neces¬ 
 sarily  depends.  Many  instances  of  conduct 
 which  incur  our  censure,  would  appear 
 highly  meritorious,  could  we  penetrate  into 
 the  secret  recesses  of  the  heart,  and  discover 
 the  virtuous  dispositions  from  which  they 
 flow.  We  should  then  see  cause  to  respect 
 the  integrity  which  adverse  circumstances 
 have  exposed  to  suspicion,  and  to  applaud 
 the  generous  purpose  which  unforeseen  oc¬ 
 currences  have  frustrated  of  its  aim. 
 
 From  this  consideration,  indeed,  there 
 are  many  who  draw  the  very  opposite  con¬ 
 clusion.  Impressed  with  an  unfavourable 
 opinion  of  human  nature  in  general,  they 
 regard  the  conduct  of  their  brethren  with  a 
 suspicious  eye.  Could  we  penetrate,  say 
 they,  into  the  hearts  of  men,  how  different 
 a  picture  should  we  there  behold  from  that 
 which  their  actions  exhibit !— We  should 
 see  interest  and  ambition,  and  every  selfish 
 
 passion. 
 
SERMON  XV. 
 
 252 
 
 passion,  lurking  under  the  fair  appearance 
 which  the  w^orld  mistakes  for  virtue,  and 
 find,  that  those  who  stand  the  highest  in 
 the  public  estimation  are  only  successful 
 hypocrites,  who  differ  in  nothing  from  the 
 more  openly  wicked,  but  in  the  art  of  con¬ 
 cealing  their  guilt. 
 
 If,  by  this  account  of  human  nature,  such 
 persons  mean  only  to  describe  the  character 
 of  their  own  minds,  their  description  may, 
 perhaps,  be  just.  But  they  ought  to  consi¬ 
 der,  that  there  may  be  such  a  thing  as  pure 
 and  disinterested  virtue,  though  they  them¬ 
 selves  be  unable  to  conceive  it ;  and  that 
 they  may  be  doing  much  injustice  to  their 
 brethren,  even  while  they  judge  of  their 
 conduct  by  the  same  rules  of  interpretation 
 which  they  are  conscious  will  apply  to  their 
 own. 
 
 We  do  not,  indeed,  deny  that  there  are 
 hypocrites  to  be  found,  who  harbour  in  se¬ 
 cret  many  a  vice  which  they  are  careful  to 
 conceal  from  the  world,  and  assume  the  ap¬ 
 pearance  of  many  a  virtue  to  which  their 
 hearts  are  strangers.  But  we  are  far  from 
 believing  that  this  is  generally  the  case;  on 
 the  contrary,  we  trust,  for  the  honour  of 
 
 our 
 
SERMON  XV. 
 
 25S 
 
 our  common  nature,  that,  for  the  most  part, 
 the  characters  of  men  would  rather  rise^ 
 than  sink  in  our  esteem,  could  we  pene¬ 
 trate  into  the  recesses  of  their  souls,  and 
 discover  all  the  secret  principles  from  which 
 their  actions  flow.  This,  at  least,  we  will 
 venture  to  affirm,  that  when,  relying  on  the 
 outward  appearance  of  virtue,  we  conceive 
 a  favourable  opinion  of  our  brother,  we 
 judge  fairly  of  the  case  as  far  as  the  circum¬ 
 stances  are  known  to  us,  even  though  our 
 conclusion  should  be  false  ;  whereas,  when 
 distrusting  outward  appearances,  we  ascribe 
 what  seems  praiseworthy  in  his  conduct  to 
 any  base  or  interested  views,  we  reason 
 from  what  is  not  before  us,  we  transgress 
 the  limits  of  our  sphere,  and  by  deciding 
 without  proper  evidence,  we  are  guilty  of 
 injustice  towards  our  brother,  though  our 
 conclusion  should  in  fact  be  true. 
 
 The  charge  of  hypocrisy,  that  it  may 
 possess  even  a  show  of  evidence,  must  be 
 supported  by  arguments  drawn  from  the 
 outward  actions  of  men.  It  is  only  by  com¬ 
 paring  a  man’s  professions  with  his  practice, 
 or  by  comparing  his  professions  and  his 
 practice  at  one  time,  with  his  professions 
 
 and 
 
254 
 
 SERMON  XV. 
 
 and  his  practice  at  another,  that  we  can  de¬ 
 tect  the  duplicity  of  his  character,  or  expose 
 it  to  the  view  of  the  world  :  and  even  in 
 such  cases  as  these,  our  reasonings  will 
 sometimes  be  erroneous,  for  there  may  be 
 inconsistency  of  character  where  there  is  no 
 intention  to  deceive,  and  the  same  person 
 in  different  circumstances,  may  differ  even 
 from  himself.  Indeed,  it  rarely  happens, 
 that  men  do  evil  from  a  principle  of  deli¬ 
 berate  wickedness ;  but  they  are  misled  by 
 some  false  view  of  duty, — they  are  over¬ 
 whelmed  by  some  sudden  tide  of  passion, 
 or  surprised  in  an  unguarded  moment  by 
 temptations  which  they  did  not  foresee.  In 
 such  circumstances  the  best  of  men  are 
 sometimes  betrayed  into  actions  which  they 
 recal  with  the  bitterest  regret,  while  their 
 hearts  remain  untainted  and  pure,  and  their 
 experience  of  the  very  errors  which  have  ex¬ 
 posed  their  virtue  to  suspicion,  serve  to  con¬ 
 firm  them  the  more  in  goodness.  How  rash 
 and  unwarrantable,  then,  would  our  sen¬ 
 tence  be,  if,  on  account  of  a  few  such  in¬ 
 stances  of  misconduct,  we  should  pronounce, 
 concerning  these  men,  that  they  are  desti¬ 
 tute  of  every  virtuous  principle  !  and  yet, 
 
 how 
 
SERMON  XV. 
 
 ^55 
 
 hdw  often  doth  it  happen,  that  we  judge 
 thus  rashly  concerning  our  brethren  !  We 
 meet  with  one  person,  perhaps,  who  fails 
 in  those  lesser  attentions  by  which  the 
 intercourse  of  society  is  sweetened,  who 
 mingles  little  in  conversation,  and  seems 
 but  half  to  share  in  the  pleasure  which  per¬ 
 vades  every  other  heart.  We  instantly  pro¬ 
 nounce  him  a  man  of  a  harsh  and  unsocial 
 temper  ;  but  it  may  be,  that  this  ungainly 
 appearance  proceeds  from  a  less  hateful 
 cause — from  natural  reserve  and  modesty,  or 
 from  the  want  of  those  easy  manners  which 
 are  acquired  in  the  commerce  of  the  world. 
 Could  we  see  him  in  another  scene  in  which 
 he  is  more  accustomed  to  act,  our  suspicion 
 would  be  completely  removed  ;  we  should 
 perceive  that  his  heart  is  as  much  alive  as 
 ours  to  every  office  of  kindness,  and  as  open 
 to  every  innocent  joy.  There  is  another 
 person,  who,  on  some  public  occasion,  hath 
 been  less  liberal  in  the  distribution  of  his 
 alms  than  his  circumstances  seem  to  re¬ 
 quire.  Offended  at  this  instance  of  his  ava¬ 
 rice,  we  pronounce  him  a  sordid  miser,  and 
 account  him  unworthy  of  his  fortune.  But 
 we  know  not  what  other  demands  may  have 
 
 already 
 
256 
 
 SERMON  XV. 
 
 already  exhausted  his  charity, — demands,  it 
 may  be,  which  admitted  of  no  delay, — de¬ 
 mands,  it  may  be,  from  those  with  whom 
 he  was  more  closely  connected,  and  who 
 had  no  other  friend  to  implore.  Of  a  third 
 person,  perhaps,  we  have  heard  that  he  acts 
 with  unfeeling  severity  in  some  of  the  nearer 
 relations  of  life, — that  he  hath  broken  the 
 bonds  of  nature, — withdrawn  himself  inhu¬ 
 manely  from  his  kindred,  and  abandoned 
 those  to  misery  who  were  intrusted  to  his 
 tenderest  care.  What  character  can  be 
 worse  than  this  ?  but  it  may  be,  we  know 
 not  the  whole  of  the  case, — we  know  not 
 how  patiently  he  bore  with  their  miscon¬ 
 duct, — we  know  not  how  long  he  persever¬ 
 ed  in  his  endeavours  to  advance  their  inte¬ 
 rest,  after  their  follies  and  vices  had  left 
 him  little  hope  of  success, — we  know  not 
 with  what  reluctance  he  yielded  to  the  ne¬ 
 cessity  which  obliged  him  at  last  to  forsake 
 them,  and  how  carefully  he  still  conceals 
 the  facts  which  would  justify  him  in  the 
 opinion  of  the  world,  lest  he  should  injure 
 the  character  of  those  whom  he  cannot 
 cease  to  love.  In  such  cases  as  the  last,  in 
 particular,  our  information  must,  for  the 
 
 most 
 
SERMON  XV. 
 
 257, 
 
 most  part,  be  imperfect.  Many  of  the  cir¬ 
 cumstances  on  which,  alone,  a  just  opinion 
 could  be  founded,  are  known  only  to  the 
 parties  concerned,  who  can  hardly  be  ex¬ 
 pected  to  reveal  them  ;  for  a  good  man  will 
 rather  suffer  unmerited  reproach,  than  vin¬ 
 dicate  himself  at  the  expence  of  those  with 
 w'hom  he  is  so  closely  connected ;  and  in 
 contests  between  near  relations,  they  who 
 are  most  to  blame,  are  generally  the  first  to 
 complain. 
 
 It  deserves  to  be  considered,  likewise, 
 that  virtue,  wherever  it  is  genuine,  is  retir¬ 
 ed  and  modest  in  its  nature.  Satisfied  with 
 the  consciousness  of  well-doing,  it  doth  not 
 obtrude  itself  on  the  view  of  the  world,  or 
 court  the  applause  of  man ;  and  hence  it 
 sometimes  happens,  that  while  the  virtuous 
 suffer  in  the  public  estimation,  by  means  of 
 the  unfavourable  circumstances  in  which 
 they  are  called  to  act,  they  lose  also  the 
 praise  of  many  a  good  affection,  and  many 
 u  generous  deed,  which  are  known  only  to 
 themselves  and  their  Maker. 
 
 Even  the  wicked  are  not  always  so  com¬ 
 pletely  abandoned  as  their  conduct  might 
 lead  us  to  imagine.  The  irregular  practices 
 
 in 
 
 R 
 
2.58 
 
 SERMON  XV. 
 
 in  which  they  indulge  themselves,  and  the 
 rash  speeches  which  they  utter,  proceed 
 sometimes  from  levity,  from  vanity,  and 
 the  foolish  desire  of  distinguishing  them¬ 
 selves  by  a  certain  boldness  of  sentiment 
 and  behaviour.  Could  we  penetrate  into 
 the  recesses  of  their  hearts,  and  observe 
 those  misgivings  of  mind, — ‘that  secret  re¬ 
 morse  and  self-condemnation  which  arise 
 from  such  instances  of  misconduct,  we 
 should  perceive  that  their  inward  feelings 
 belie  the  professions  which  they  make, — that 
 the  sense  of  moral  and  religious  duty  is  not 
 yet  extinguished  in  their  breasts, — that,  a- 
 midst  all  their  boasted  freedom  of  thought, 
 they  are  still  overawed  and  chastened  by 
 the  principles  which  they  affect  to  despise. 
 They  are  hypocrites,  indeed  ;  but  their  hy¬ 
 pocrisy  consists  in  pretending  to  be  worse 
 than  they  are, — a  strange  species  of  hypo¬ 
 crisy,  though  by  no  means  uncommon  in 
 the  world. 
 
 These  observations  may  serve  to  shew  us 
 how  cautious  we  ought  to  be  in  interpret¬ 
 ing  those  outward  appearances  on  which  we 
 found  our  judgments  concerning  our  breth¬ 
 ren.  There  is  hardly  any  subject  on  which 
 
 wc 
 
SEllMON  XV. 
 
 1259 
 
 we  are  more  forward  to  decide,  than  the 
 character  of  those  with  whom,  we  associate, 
 and  yet  there  is  no  subject  concerning 
 which  we  are  more  liable  to  err.  The  rea¬ 
 son  is,  that  the  motives  and  principles  of 
 men  are  beyond  the  reach  of  our  enquiry ; 
 and  that  we  seldom  have  it  in  our  power, 
 in  any  particular  case,  to  take  all  the  ne¬ 
 cessary  circumstances  into  view.  Remem¬ 
 ber,  then,  my  friends,  that  if  men  are  some¬ 
 times  worse,  they  are  often,  also,  better 
 than  they  seem  to  be,  and  that  it  belongs 
 to  God  alone  to  judge  the  secrets  of  the 
 heart.  His  judgments  are  infallible,  be¬ 
 cause  he  knows  the  hidden  motives  from 
 which  our  conduct  flows.  But  we  see  only 
 the  outward  actions  of  men  ;  even  with  re¬ 
 spect  to  these,  our  information  is  often 
 imperfect,  and  in  the  conclusions  which  we  * 
 attempt  to  draw  from  them,  we  are  conti¬ 
 nually  in  danger  of  being  misled.  To  say 
 of  any  person  that  his  heart  is  bad,  is  a  sen¬ 
 tence  which  can  rarely  befit  a  being  so  ig¬ 
 norant  as  man.  Let  us  beware,  then,  of 
 deciding  rashly  in  a  matter  which  may  so 
 deeply  affect  the  interest  and  the  happiness 
 of  our  neighbour. — Let  us  carefully  exa- 
 
 R  2  mine 
 
SERMON  XV. 
 
 2()0 
 
 mine  the  facts  on  which  we  found  our 
 judgment  concerning  his  character — Let 
 us  give  to  them  the  most  favourable  inter¬ 
 pretation  of  which  the  case  will  admit. — 
 Let  us  plead  the  cause  of  our  brother  be¬ 
 fore  the  tribunal  of  our  own  minds,  and 
 resort  to  every  other  supposition  ere  we 
 charge  him  with  deliberate  guilt. 
 
 Gentleness  and  lenity  are  qualities  pecu¬ 
 liarly  requisite  in  beings  so  imperfect  as 
 men.  The  fairest  human  character  is  not 
 altogether  exempt  from  stains, — the  most 
 unexceptionable  reputation  is  in  some  parts 
 open  to  attack  ;  for  our  present  limited  con¬ 
 dition  admits  not  of  unsullied  virtue.  We 
 have  all  frequently  occasion  to  appeal  to  the 
 candour  of  our  brethren,  and  to  implore 
 the  compassion  of  our  Maker ;  and  doth  it 
 become  beings  thus  circumstanced  to  judge 
 with  harshness,  or  to  censure  with  severity  ? 
 Let  the  frailty  which  you  continually  expe¬ 
 rience  in  yourselves,  teach  you  to  cover  the 
 errors  of  others  with  the  veil  of  humanity ; 
 and  let  the  same  arguments  which  silence  the 
 accusations  of  your  own  consciences,  pal* 
 liate,  also,  in  your  eyes,  the  imperfections  of 
 
 those 
 
SERMON  XV. 
 
 261 
 
 those  who  have  the  same  infirmity  of  nature 
 to  bewail. 
 
 The  supreme  Being  is  not  extreme  to  mark 
 the  iniquities  of  his  creatures, — He  knows 
 their  frame — he  remembers  that  they  are  dust. 
 — He  is  slow  to  anger ^  and  plenteous  in  com- 
 2Jassion, — eveii  in  the  midst  of  judgment  he 
 remembers  mercy.  And  shall  we  treat  the 
 transgressions  of  our  fellow-creatures  with 
 less  indulgence  than  the  Deity  himself, 
 whose  law  is  violated, — whose  authority  is 
 contemned  ? — There  is  mercy  with  God, 
 and  shall  not  man  blush  to  be  severe  ? 
 
 Ill  doth  it  become  the  guilty  to  assume  to 
 themselves  the  office  of  judges  and  reform¬ 
 ers.  Their  conduct  would  be  at  once  more 
 consistent  and  more  virtuous,  were  they  less 
 indulgent  to  their  own  faults,  and  more  ten¬ 
 der  to  the  failings  of  their  brethren.  Phy¬ 
 sician  !  heal  thyself.  Banish  from  thine 
 own  breast  every  evil  passion, — study  to  a- 
 dorn  thyself  with  every  virtue,  and  when 
 thou  hast  thus  attained  the  perfection  of 
 thy  nature,  then  shalt  thou  have  leisure  to 
 watch,  and  to  defame  the  conduct  of  thy 
 neighbour, — then  mayst  thou  censure  his 
 vices  without  condemning  thyself:  But  why 
 
 R  3  beholdest 
 
SERMON  XV^ 
 
 beholdest  thou  the  7note  in  thy  brother's  eyc^ 
 and  considei^est  not  the  beam  that  is  in  thine 
 own  eye  ?  Thou  hypocrite  !  first  cast  out  the 
 beam  out  of  thine  own  eye,  and  then  shall 
 thou  see  cleariy  to  cast  out  the  mote  that  is  in 
 thy  brother's  eye. 
 
 The  vhtuous,  who  are  the  best  entitled, 
 are  the  least  disposed  to  censure  with  seve¬ 
 rity,  because  they  see  the  actions  of  their 
 brethren,  through  the  mirror  of  their  own 
 purer  souls.  Detraction  is  the  vice  of  the 
 malignant,  wdio  envy  the  prosperous  their 
 success; — detraction  is  the  vice  of  the  worth¬ 
 less,  who,  living  in  merited  contempt,  strive 
 to  degrade  the  deserving  to  the  same  level 
 with  themselves ;  and  even  when  it  ap¬ 
 pears  in  its  least  hateful  form,  it  is  the  vice 
 of  the  idle,  the  inconsiderate,  the  frivolous, 
 vacant  mind.  But  from  whatever  cause  it 
 arises,  or  whatever  forms  it  may  assume,  it 
 is  a  vice  most  displeasing  to  God, — a  vice 
 most  injurious  to  man, — a  vice  which  is  de¬ 
 clared  to  be  inconsistent  with  the  Chris¬ 
 tian’s  character  and  hopes.  It  stands  in  di- 
 •  rect  opposition  to  that  charity  which  our 
 Saviour  so  earnestly  inculcates, — which  he 
 displayed  so  gloriously  in  his  conduct,  and 
 
 to 
 
SERMON  XV. 
 
 £63 
 
 to  which  he  hath  promised  the  kingdom  of 
 heaven. 
 
 For  the  charity  which  the  gospel  inspires 
 suffer eth  long,  and  is  kind, — it  thinketh  no 
 evil, — it  rejoiceth  not  in  iniquity,  hut  rejoic- 
 etli  in  the  truth, — it  beareth  all  thingSi — it 
 believeth  all  things, — it  hopeth  all  things, — 
 it  endureth  all  things.  This  charity,  my 
 friends,  be  it  your  study  to  acquire.  It  is 
 the  ornament  of  the  Christian  ;yhile  he 
 dwells  on  earth,  and  it  follows  him  through 
 death  to  those  eternal  abodes  where  love 
 unites  the  millions  of  the  blest.  Whether 
 there  be  prophecies,  they  shall  fail, — whether 
 ithet'e  be  tongues,  they  shall  cease, — whether 
 there  be  knowledge,  it  shall  vanish  away,  but 
 eharity  never  failetJi. 
 
 «  4' 
 
 ON 
 
ON  INDUSTRY. 
 
 SERMON  XVL 
 
 ROMANS,  Xir.  II. 
 
 Be  not  slothful  in  business. 
 
 fnis  passage  of  scripture  directs  our  atten¬ 
 tion  to  the  duty  of  industry, — a  duty  of  great 
 importance  in  the  Christian  life,  and  which 
 I  shall  endeavour,  through  the  divine  assist¬ 
 ance,  to  explain  and  enforce. 
 
 Industry  denotes  the  steady  application 
 and  vigorous  exercise  of  our  active  powers, 
 in  the  pursuit  of  some  useful  object.  Our 
 minds,  indeed,  by  their  own  nature,  are  ac¬ 
 tive  and  restless ;  while  we  are  awake,  they 
 are  never  wholly  unemployed, — they  are 
 continually  thinking,  contriving,  and  ima¬ 
 gining  even  in  those  seasons  in  which  we 
 
 are 
 
SERMON  XVr. 
 
 12  C5 
 
 are  scarcely  conscious  of  their  operation. 
 But  there  is  a  remiss  and  negligent  state  of 
 mind  to  which  we  have  all  occasionally  re¬ 
 signed  ourselves,  and  in  which  some  per¬ 
 sons  waste  a  great  proportion  of  their  time. 
 In  this  state,  the  thoughts  arise  and  vanish 
 in  succession,  without  any  effort  of  ours  to 
 excite,  to  dismiss,  or  to  detain  them.  They 
 produce  no  lasting  impression, — they  lead 
 to  no  useful  exertion, — they  are  as  the 
 dreams  of  one  who  is  asleep,  and  the  hours 
 which  are  thus  consumed,  pass  as  though 
 they  had  never  been. 
 
 To  this  remissness  and  negligence  in¬ 
 dustry  stands  directly  opposed.  It  is  not 
 enouph,  however,  that  our  minds  be  kept 
 alive  and  active  by  such  employments  as 
 may  furnish  an  exercise  to  our  powers.  Our 
 industry  may  be  directed  to  improper  ob¬ 
 jects,  or  it  may  be  conducted  in  so  irregu¬ 
 lar  and  desultory  a  manner,  as  to  fail  of  at¬ 
 taining  its  end. 
 
 I.  I  observe,  therefore,  in  the  first  place, 
 that  if  you  would  cultivate  the  industry 
 which  Christianity  recommends,  you  must 
 select  proper  objects  of  pursuit. 
 
 It 
 
266 
 
 SEllIVlON  XVL 
 
 It  is  the  nature  of  the  objects  which  we 
 pursue,  that  characterises  our  industry  as 
 useful  or  frivolous, — as  virtuous  or  vicious. 
 The  wicked,  sometimes,  discover  the  most 
 unwearied  activity,  in  devising  and  execut¬ 
 ing  their  schemes  of  guilt.  The  scriptures 
 speak  of  men  whose  feet  run  to  evil, — who 
 cannot  rest  except  they  have  done  mischief 
 and  whose  sleep  is  taken  away  unless  they 
 have  caused  some  to  fall.  They  who  are  most 
 negligent  of  their  own  affairs,  are  often  offi¬ 
 cially  attentive  to  the  affairs  of  their  neigh¬ 
 bours.  Looking  abroad-  for  that  employ¬ 
 ment  which  they  ought  to  seek  at  home, 
 they  intermeddle  with  concerns  that  do 
 not  belong  to  them  ;  they  are  continually 
 prying  into  the  secrets,  deciding  concern¬ 
 ing  the  conduct,  and  arranging  the  interests 
 of  all  who  are  around  them.  The  apostle 
 describes  their  character,  when  he  says,  that 
 they  learn  to  be  idle,  wandering  about  from 
 house  to  house,  and  not  idle  only,  but  tattlers 
 also,  sjjeaking  the  things  which  they  ought 
 not. 
 
 There  is  a  frivolous  industry  which  others 
 display  in  the  pursuit  of  vanity  and  folly. 
 They  apply  themselves  to  no  serious  em^ 
 
 ployment, 
 
SERMON  XVI. 
 
 267 
 
 ployment,  in  which  their  faculties  can  find 
 a  proper  exercise.  But  they  feel  that  to  be 
 wholly  unoccupied  is  the  most  wretched  of 
 all  situations.  They  fly  from  scene  to  scene, 
 seeking  in  every  amusement  a  relief  from 
 that  languor  of  mind  with  which  indolence 
 is  alw^ays  accompanied.  One  trivial  engage¬ 
 ment  is  immediately  succeeded  by  another. 
 — In  arranging  and  adjusting  these,  they 
 find  a  subject  of  perpetual  care.  For  this 
 they  rise  early  and  sit  up  late  ;  they  give  nei¬ 
 ther  sleep  to  their  eyes^  noi'  slumber  to  their 
 eye-lids  ;  while,  in  devising  means  for  con¬ 
 suming  their  time,  they  subject  themselves 
 to  more  fatigue  and  trouble  than  would  be 
 necessary  for  improving  it.  Such  persons 
 forget  that  amusement  ceases  to  be  inno¬ 
 cent,  when  it  is  followed  as  the  business  of 
 life.  Their  industry  is  trifling  and  unpro¬ 
 fitable,  resembling  the  restless  activity  which 
 children  exert  in  the  pursuit  of  every  airy 
 vanity.  T.liey  weave  the  spider's  web^ — they 
 disquiet  themselves  in  vain^ — they  spend  their 
 money  for  that  vchich  is  not  breads  and  their 
 labour  for  that  which  jjroJiteth  not ;  and  ve¬ 
 rily^  this  labour  of  the  foolish^  wearieth  every 
 pne  of  them. 
 
 The 
 
268 
 
 SERMON  XVL 
 
 The  things  which  are  innocent  and  use¬ 
 ful  are  the  only  proper  objects  of  that  in¬ 
 dustry  which  the  text  recommends.  What, 
 then,  are  these  ?  To  promote  our  improve¬ 
 ment  in  piety  and  virtue, — to  correct  what 
 is  amiss,  and  to  supply  what  is  defective  in 
 our  character, — to  discharge  with  fidelity 
 those  duties  of  religion  and  morality  on 
 which  our  everlasting  happiness  depends  ; 
 these  certainly  are  the  objects  which  claim 
 our  first  attention,  and  they  are  objects 
 which  cannot  be  attained  without  the  most 
 vigorous  exercise  of  our  powers. 
 
 Even  here,  however,  a  selection  of  ob¬ 
 jects  is  necessary.  There  are  many  per¬ 
 sons  who  are  extremely  industrious  in  what 
 they  term  religious  duty,  whose  industry, 
 notwithstanding,  is  altogether  misapplied. 
 They  mistake  the  nature  of  the  task  assign¬ 
 ed  to  them.  Imagining  that  religion  con¬ 
 sists  in  zeal  for  some  speculative  opinion,  in 
 admiration  of  some  particular  sect,  or  in 
 the  observance  of  certain  outward  forms 
 of  worship,  to  which  they  themselves  are 
 strongly  attached  :  in  the  prosecution  of 
 those  inferior  objects,  they  display  an  acti¬ 
 vity  of  mind,  which,  were  it  regulated  by 
 
 more 
 
SEKMON  XVI. 
 
 269 
 
 more  rational  views,  might  be  productive 
 of  the  happiest  effects ;  but  which  being 
 misplaced,  and  ill-directed,  serves  only  to 
 bring  disgrace  on  themselves,  and  on  the 
 cause  of  goodness.  Let  us  ever  remember, 
 then,  that  the  love  of  God,  and  the  love  of 
 our  fellow-creatures, — that  the  cultivation 
 of  good  affections,  and  the  practice  of  vir¬ 
 tuous  deeds  are  the  great  duties  of  religion  ; 
 and  let  those  attainments  which  the  scrip¬ 
 tures  declare  to  be  of  chief  importance  in 
 religion,  be  also  the  chief  objects  of  our  at¬ 
 tention  and  pursuit. 
 
 But  as  our  minds  cannot  be  continually- 
 fixed  on  those  great  and  interesting  con¬ 
 cerns,  there  are  a  variety  of  inferior  ob¬ 
 jects,  in  the  pursuit  of  which,  our  industry 
 may  be  usefully  exercised.  Our  worldly  af¬ 
 fairs,  for  example,  demand  a  portion  of  our 
 attention  and  care.  To  those  who  are  pla¬ 
 ced  in  the  lower  spheres  of  life,  this  species 
 of  industry  is  peculiarly  requisite.  The 
 greater  part  of  their  time  must  necessarily 
 be  employed  in  procuring  for  themselves 
 and  their  families  the  means  of  subsistence. 
 Destined  to  earn  their  bread  by  the  sweat 
 of  the  hroWy  the  law  of  Providence,  with  re¬ 
 gard 
 
§70 
 
 SERMON  XVI. 
 
 gard  to  them,  is,  that  those  who  refuse  to  la¬ 
 bour  shall  suffer  want,  and  Christianity  su¬ 
 peradds  the  sanctions  of  religion  to  enforce 
 the  practice  of  so  essential  a  duty^  It  com¬ 
 mands  them  to  work  imth  their  own  hands 
 the  thing  that  is  good,  that  they  may  walk 
 honestly  among  them  who  are  without  ;  and 
 declares,  that  if  any  man  provide  not  for  those 
 of  his  own  house,  he  hath  denied  the  faith, 
 and  is  worse  than  an  infidel. 
 
 From  this  species  of  industry,  indeed,  the 
 higher  orders  of  men  are  in  a  great  measure 
 exempted.  Inheriting  the  wealth  which 
 their  fathers  have  bequeathed  to  them,  and 
 possessing  in  abundance,  without  any  la¬ 
 bour  of  their  own,  not  only  the  necessaries, 
 but  the  comforts  of  life,  they  are  apt  to 
 imagine,  that  there  is  nothing  incumbent 
 on  them  to  do,  but  to  resign  their  souls  to 
 ease  and  tranquillity,  and  to  enjoy  the  bless¬ 
 ings  which  are  scattered  around  them.  Even 
 of  them,  however,  some  attention  to  world¬ 
 ly  concerns  is  required.  An  ample  fortune 
 cannot  be  properly  managed  without  a  con¬ 
 siderable  degree  of  industry  and  care.  >  That 
 minute  attention  to  the  detail  of  affairs, 
 which  in  the  lower  spheres  of  life  is  to  be 
 
 ^  regarded 
 
SEUMON  XVL 
 
 27i 
 
 regarded  as  a  virtue,  might  be  viewed,  in¬ 
 deed,  in  their  more  elevated  situation,  as 
 the  marks  of  a  low  and  grovelling  mind. 
 But  to  superintend  the  conduct  of  those  to 
 whom  they  intrust  the  more  laborious  parts 
 of  their  business,  is  an  employment  by  no 
 means  beneath  their  rank.  It  is  surely  pi¬ 
 tiful  in  any  person  who  is  capable  of  exer¬ 
 tion,  to  be  altogether  ignorant  of  his  own 
 concerns,  and  to  acknowledge  himself  un¬ 
 worthy  of  the  .station  which  he  fills,  by 
 committing  to  others  the  whole  arrange¬ 
 ment  of  his  interests.  He  who  attends  not  to 
 his  own  affairs,  is  not  prepared,  either  to  re¬ 
 ward  the  services  of  the  faithful,  or  to  check 
 the  encroachments  of  the  dishonest  ; — he 
 becomes  a  prey  to  the  indolence  of  one,  to 
 the  profusion  of  another,  and  the  rapacity 
 of  a  third, — his  wealth  is  dissipated  he 
 knows  not  how.  He  beholds  those  whom 
 he  hath  intrusted  with  the  management  of 
 his  fortune,  rising  by  degrees  to  rival  him 
 in  affluence,  and  perceives  not  that  they  are 
 enriched  by  his  spoils.  But  the  man  whose 
 active  mind  inspects  and  regulates  his  own 
 'concerns  hath  no  such  inconveniences  to 
 fear.  He  observes  with  a  careful  eye  the 
 
 conduct 
 
 / 
 
£72 
 
 SERMON  XVL 
 
 conduct  of  his  inferiors  and  dependents, — » 
 he  distinguishes  the  diligent  from  the  sloth¬ 
 ful, — the  deserving  from  the  worthless ; — 
 he  recompences  the  former,  and  punishes 
 the  latter.  His  attention  guards  the  inte¬ 
 grity,  and  animates  the  labours  of  those  who 
 are  beneath  him.  A  spirit  of  industry  is 
 diffused  wherever  his  influence  reaches. 
 His  lands  are  cultivated, — the  earth  be¬ 
 comes  more  bountiful  under  his  care, — the 
 country  around  him  assumes  a  gayer  ap¬ 
 pearance  ;  and  the  means  which  he  thus 
 employs  for  the  improvement  of  his  own 
 private  fortune,  serve  at  the  same  time  to 
 promote  the  public  prosperity  and  virtue. 
 
 Those  who  are  placed  in  stations  of  trust 
 will  find,  in  the  discharge  of  the  duties 
 which  more  particularly  belong  to  them, 
 an  extensive  sphere  of  employment,  and  for 
 the  faithful  performance  of  these,  every 
 person  to  whom  they  are  committed  is  ac¬ 
 countable  to  himself,  to  the  world,  and  to 
 Ills  Maker.  There  are,  also,  works  of  gene¬ 
 ral  utility,  which,  though  not  immediately 
 connected  with  the  duties  of  any  particular 
 station,  may  exercise  the  industry  of  the 
 higher  classes  of  men,  and  which  their  ex¬ 
 tensive 
 
SERMON  XVI. 
 
 273 
 
 tensive  influence  may  enable  them  to  for¬ 
 ward.  To  them  it  belongs  to  reform  public 
 abuses,  to  encourage  useful  arts,  and  to  esta¬ 
 blish  such  wise  regulations  as  may  contri¬ 
 bute  to  maintain  the  order,  and  advance  the 
 happiness  of  society.  To  them  it  belongs 
 to  be  the  patrons  of  rising  genius,  to  fur¬ 
 nish  the  young  with  the  means  of  cultivat¬ 
 ing  and  improving  their  talents,  and  to  help 
 them  forward  to  stations  suited  to  their  abi¬ 
 lities  and  merit.  Such  offices  as  these  open 
 to  the  well  disposed  a  boundless  field  of  em¬ 
 ployment,  in  which  they  may  distinguish 
 themselves  as  the  benefactors  of  mankind. 
 
 If  the  higher  orders  of  men  were  careful 
 to  cultivate  in  their  minds  a  taste  for  useful 
 knowledge,  they  could  never  be  destitute  of 
 an  occupation  suited  to  the  station  which 
 they  fill.  They  would  no  longer  be  depen¬ 
 dent  on  others  for  the  means  of  consuming 
 their  time.  Their  attention  would  be  turn¬ 
 ed  from  those  childish  amusements  which 
 are  the  pitiful  resource  of  the  frivolous,  to 
 exercises  more  rational  and  manly,  which 
 would  open  to  them  a  perpetual  source  of 
 the  purest  and  most  refined  delight,  which 
 %vould  add  a  brighter  lustre  to  their  rank, 
 
 s  and 
 
274 
 
 SERMON  XVr. 
 
 and  procure  for  them  a  more  honourable 
 superiority  over  their  brethren  than  wealth 
 or  power  can  bestow.  No  character  is 
 more  contemptible  than  that  of  a  rich  man 
 who  is  incapable  of  deriving  pleasure  from 
 the  pursuit  of  wisdom  and  virtue,  who  is 
 destitute  of  those  liberal  accomplishments 
 which  his  leisure  and  his  affluence  furnish 
 him  with  such  favourable  opportunities  of 
 acquiring,  and  is  distinguished,  by  his  wealth 
 alone,  from  the  meanest  of  the  human  race. 
 
 Let  not  the  want  of  business,  then,  be 
 alleged  as  an  excuse  for  indolence.  With 
 so  many  objects  before  you,  you  can  never 
 be  destitute  of  an  occupation  in  which  your 
 faculties  may  be  usefully  exercised. 
 
 Even  in  his  hours  of  relaxation  from  the 
 more  serious  concerns  of  life,  the  indus¬ 
 trious  man  finds  a  variety  of  engagements  in 
 which  he  may  exert  the  activity  of  his  mind. 
 He  sinks  not  into  that  insipid  dulness  which 
 arises  from  vacancy  of  soul,  and  which  ren¬ 
 ders  the  indolent  an  oppression  to  them¬ 
 selves,  and  to  those  with  whom  they  asso¬ 
 ciate  ; — he  is  alive  to  every  generous  emotion. 
 Ill  the  gaiety  of  easy  conversation — in  the 
 circulation  of  innocent  joy,  and  the  inter¬ 
 change 
 
SERMON  XVI, 
 
 275 
 
 change  of  those  kind  attentions  which  at¬ 
 tach  mankind  to  one  another,  a  new  sphere 
 of  duty  is  opened  to  him,  in  which,  while 
 he  relieves  his  own  mind  from  the  fatigues 
 of  business,  he  ministers  also  to  the  happi¬ 
 ness  of  his  brethren.  The  hours  which  he 
 -passes  in  society— those  hours  which  are  lost 
 to  others^  are  seasons  of  improvement  to 
 him.  They  furnish  him  with  an  excellent 
 opportunity  of  contemplating  human  cha¬ 
 racter  in  the  various  forms  which  it  as¬ 
 sumes,  of  exercising  his  benevolent  affec¬ 
 tions,  and  exhibiting  religion  to  the  world 
 in  all  its  native  beauty,  as,  at  once,  the 
 guardian  of  innocence,  and  the  sweetener 
 of  every  pure  delight. 
 
 Thus,  my  friends,  I  have  set  before  you 
 a  variety  of  objects,  in  the  pursuit  of  which 
 your  industry  may  be  usefully  employed. 
 While,  on  the  one  hand,  I  have  recom¬ 
 mended  the  great  duties  of  piety  and  virtue 
 as  entitled  to  your  first  attention,  I  have 
 endeavoured  to  shew  you,  on  the  other, 
 how  you  may  employ,  respectably  for  your^ 
 selves,  and  profitably  for  the  world,  those 
 portions  of  your  time  in  which  you  cannot 
 
 s  2  be 
 
ere 
 
 SERMON  XVE 
 
 be  expected  to  be  engaged  in  the  great  du¬ 
 ties  of  religion. 
 
 I  have  insisted  the  longer  on  this  subject, 
 because  (how  trivial  soever  iw  may  appear 
 at  first  sight)  I  am  'convinced  that  it  is 
 of  much  importance  ;  because  the  vacant 
 hours  of  life  are,  for  the  most  part,  seasons 
 of  temptation,  and,  with  many,  are  sea¬ 
 sons  of  guilt ;  and  because  I  conceive  it  to 
 be  of  the  utmost  consequence  to  know  how 
 to  spend  them  with  innocence. 
 
 Some  of  the  admonitions  which  I  have 
 been  led  to  offer,  have,  indeed,  a  more  im¬ 
 mediate  reference  to  the  business  of  this 
 present  life,  and  may,  on  this  account,  per¬ 
 haps,  be  considered  as  unsuitable  to  the  na¬ 
 ture  of  a  religious  discourse.  But  surely, 
 my  friends,  nothing  can  justly  be  consider¬ 
 ed  as  unconnected  with  the  great  end  of  re¬ 
 ligion,  which  hath  a  tendency  to  preserve 
 our  innocence,  to  promote  the  improve¬ 
 ment  of  our  nature,  and  to  advance  the 
 happiness  of  society.  Those  narrow  views 
 of  Christianity  which  would  lead  us  to  treat 
 with  negligence  the  ordinary  business  of  life, 
 have  been  of  real  disservice  to  the  cause  of 
 virtue,  while  they  have  brought  disgrace 
 
 on. 
 
SERMON  XVE 
 
 277 
 
 on  the  Christian  name.  Nor  are  they 
 more  consistent  with  the  spirit  of  Christia¬ 
 nity,  than  with  the  general  interests  of  man¬ 
 kind.  The  religion  which  the  scriptures 
 contain,  is  a  liberal,  enlightened  system.  It 
 recommends,  indeed,  an  occasional  retreat 
 from  the  world,  for  the  purpose  of  review¬ 
 ing  our  actions,  and  exercising  those  pious 
 affections  which  are  due  to  our  Father  in 
 heaven.  But  it  doth  not  suppose  that  the 
 exercises  of  retirement’,  and  contemplation 
 are  to  form  our  chief  employment.  It  ad¬ 
 dresses  itself  to  men  as  engaged  in  the  bu¬ 
 siness  of  active  life,  and  by  a  circumstan¬ 
 tial  detail  of  duty,  it  enforces  on  them  a 
 strict  attention  even  to  the  minutesb  parts 
 of  their  conduct.  - 
 
 In  the  eye  of  the  enlightened  Christian, 
 
 nothing  appears  to  be  unconnected  with  the 
 
 great  end  of  religion.  His  devotions,  his 
 
 virtues,  his  worldly  business,  his  worldly 
 
 amusements,  all  are  regulated  by  the  same 
 
 sound  principles, — the  love  and  the  fear  of 
 
 God,  and  the  hope  that  is  set  before  him 
 
 in  the  gospel.  Nor  doth  he  pursue  the  in- 
 
 / 
 
 ferior  objects  to  which  his  attention  is  thus 
 directed,  merely  as  an  innocent  employ- 
 
 s  3  ment. 
 
27s 
 
 SERMON  XVI. 
 
 ment.  His  chearful  enjoyment  of  life, — 
 his  care  in  providing  for  his  family,  and  the 
 various  other  offices  which  improve  and 
 sweeten  society,  he  considers  as  a  part  of 
 the  work  which  his  Father  hath  given  him  to 
 do,  for  his  performance  or  neglect  of  which, 
 he  must  render  an  account  in  the  day  of 
 retribution. 
 
 In  this  important  light  the  duties  of  or¬ 
 dinary  life  are  exhibited  by  the  religion 
 which  we  profess ;  To  do  in  quietness  our 
 own  works,  and  to  eat  our  own  breads — to 
 provide  things  honest  in  the  sight  of  all  men, 
 are  duties  which  the  scriptures  enforce  with 
 an  earnestness  expressive  of  the  high  esti¬ 
 mation  in  which  they  were  held  by  the 
 founders  of  our  faith.  Even  by  the  mercies 
 of  the  Lord  who  bought  us,  we  are  exhorted  to 
 such  duties  as  these ;  and  shall  we  consider 
 any  duty  as  trivial  which  is  enforced  by  so 
 sacred  a  name  ? 
 
 ON 
 
THE  SAME  SUBJECT  CONTINUED. 
 
 SERMON  XVII. 
 
 ROMANS,  XII.  II. 
 
 Be  2iot  slotJiful  in  business.. 
 
 In  a  former  discourse  I  directed  your  at-  / 
 tention  to  a  variety  of  objects,  in  the  pur¬ 
 suit  of  which  your  industry  may  be  use¬ 
 fully  exercised.  While  I  recommended 
 the  great  duties  of  piety  and  virtue  as  en¬ 
 titled  to  your  first  regard,  I  endeavoured 
 to  shew  you,  likewise,  how  you  may  em¬ 
 ploy,  respectably  for  yourselves,  and  pro¬ 
 fitably  for  the  world,  those  portions  of  your 
 time,  during  which  you  cannot  be  expected 
 to  be  engaged  in  the  more  serious  business 
 of  life. 
 
 It  is  not  enough,  however,  that  our  minds 
 be  kept  alive  and  active  by  such  employ- 
 
 s  4  ments 
 
280 
 
 SERMON  XVII. 
 
 ments  as  may  furnish  a  proper  exercise  to 
 our  powers.  Our  industry  may  be  con¬ 
 ducted  in  so  desultory  a  manner  as  to  fail 
 of  attaining  its  end. 
 
 II.  I  proceed,  therefore,  through  the  di¬ 
 vine  assistance,  to  shew  you,  in  the  second 
 place,  fhat  in  the  pursuit  even  of  such  ob¬ 
 jects  as  are  innocent  and  useful  in  them¬ 
 selves,  you  cannot  hope  to  be  successful, 
 unless  you  pursue  them  according  to  a  re¬ 
 gular  plan. 
 
 Among  the  objects,  in  the  prosecution 
 of  which  our  industry  may  be  lawfully  ex¬ 
 ercised,  there  are  some  which  claim  our  first 
 attention,  and  there  are  others  to  which  only 
 a  secondary  regard  is  due.  We  are  permit¬ 
 ted,  for  example,  to  advance  our  wordly  in¬ 
 terests  by  all  fair  and  honourable  means. 
 But  our  worldly  industry  degenerates  into 
 an  excessive  and  vicious  passion,  it  we 
 suffer  the  interests  of  this  -passing  life  so 
 completely  to  engross  our  minds,  as  to  in- 
 tertere  >  with  the  piety  which  we  owe  to 
 God,  or  the  justice  which  we  owe  to  our 
 brethren— with  those  duties  of  immutable 
 obligation, on  which  our  immortal  happi¬ 
 ness 
 
SERMON  XVII. 
 
 281 
 
 ness  depends :  For  what  is  a  man  profited,  if 
 he  shall  gain  the  whole  world,  and  lose  his 
 own' soul? 
 
 >To  cultivate  useful  knowledge  is  also  a 
 proper  exercise  of  our  powers.  But  we 
 value  knowledge  too  highly,  if  we  suffer 
 the  love  of  it  so  completely  to  fascinate* our 
 minds,' as  to -leave  us  neither  leisure  nor  in¬ 
 clination  for  performing  the  duties  of  ac¬ 
 tive  benevolence ;  and  our  benevolence  it¬ 
 self  becomes  excessive^  when  we  indulge  it 
 beyond  the  limits  of  our  fortune,  so  as  to  in¬ 
 volve  ourselves  in  distress,  or  bring  misery 
 and  ruin  on  those  who  are  more  immediate¬ 
 ly  committed>  to  our  care.  There  is  a  sub¬ 
 ordination  established  among  the  various 
 objects  of  our  industry,  which,  if  we  be 
 noO  careful  ,to  observe,  our  industry  may 
 become  the  parent  of  vice ;  and  there  is 
 an  order  to  be  maintained  in  pursuing  these 
 objects,  without  which  cur  industry  will  be 
 fruitless.  Arrangement  is  the  guide  of  di¬ 
 ligence,  and  .leads  it  forward  to  success. 
 The  man  who  acts  without  a  regular  plan, 
 exerts  his  efforts  in  vain.  His  different 
 duties  are  continually  interfering ;  and  his 
 different  schemes  oppose  and  frustrate  one 
 
 another. 
 
282 
 
 SERMON  XVII. 
 
 another.  His  attention  is  never  completely 
 fixed  on  any  single  object.  The  work 
 which,  in  the  morning,  he  neglected  to 
 perform,  haunts  him  through  the  rest  of 
 the  day.  No  task  is  properly  executed. 
 His  life  is  a  perpetual  scene  of  hurry  and 
 confusion  ;  and  that  peevishness  of  temper 
 which  he  is  not  able  to  conceal,  is  the  natural 
 expression  of  a  mind  ruffled  by  the  mortify^ 
 ing  reflection,  that  though  he  labours  with 
 unwearied  assiduity,  he  makes  no  advance¬ 
 ment  in  any  pursuit. 
 
 If  you  wish,  then,  that  your  industry  may 
 be  successful,  let  it  be  conducted  with  order 
 and  regularity.  Assign  to  every  duty  a 
 suitable  portion  of  your  time.  Let  not  one 
 employment  encroach  on  the  season  allot¬ 
 ted  for  another.  Thus  shall  you  be  deli¬ 
 vered  from  that  embarrasment  which  would 
 interrupt  and  retard  your  progress.  Every 
 object  will  be  presented  in  its  proper  place. 
 Your  minds,  no  longer  distracted  by  a  mul¬ 
 tiplicity  of  jarring  cares,  will  exert  them¬ 
 selves  with  vigour  and  effect.  The  path 
 of  business  will  lie  open  and  obvious  before 
 you ;  and  you  shall  advance,  in  an  uniform 
 
 and 
 
SERMON  XVII. 
 
 283 
 
 and  certain  course,  to  the  attainment  of 
 the  ends  which  you  propose.  If  you  ar¬ 
 range,  with  becoming  attention,  the  vari¬ 
 ous  parts  of  your  conduct,  a  proper  inter¬ 
 mixture  of  pursuits  will  support  and  ani¬ 
 mate  your  industry.  Your  minds,  when 
 fatigued  with  one  employment,  will  find 
 relief  in  applying  themselves  to  another. 
 When  contemplation  begins  to  tire,  the 
 more  active  duties  of  life  will  renew  and 
 invigorate  your  powers ;  and,  from  these 
 more  active  duties,  you  will  return  to  con¬ 
 templation  with  improved  delight.  The 
 seasons  which  you  consecrate  to  devotion 
 will  hallow  your  worldly  cares ;  and  your 
 worldly  business,  in  its  turn,  will  prevent 
 your  piety  from  degenerating  into  morose¬ 
 ness,  austerity,  or  enthusiasm.  It  will  fur¬ 
 nish  you  with  an  excellent  opportunity  of 
 reducing  your  religion  to  practice,  and  of  ' 
 directing  it  to  its  proper  end,  by  improving 
 it  as  a  motive  to  virtue. 
 
 Having  selected  proper  objects  of  pur¬ 
 suit,  and  arranged  the  plan  according  to 
 which  you  resolve  to  pursue  them,  it  will 
 be  necessary, 
 
 IIL 
 
284 
 
 SERMON  XVir. 
 
 III.  Ill  the  last  place,  that  you  act  on 
 this  plan  with  ardour  and  perseverance. 
 
 There  may,  indeed,  be  an  excess  of  ar¬ 
 dour  in  the  pursuit  even  of  the  most  valu¬ 
 able  objects.  Too  close  an  application  of 
 mind  wastes  its  strength,  and  not  only 
 unfits  us  for  enjoying  the  fruits  of  our  in¬ 
 dustry,  but  also  obstructs  our  success.  When 
 our  faculties  are  fatigued  and  blunted,  we 
 are  no  longer  in  a  condition  to  make  ad¬ 
 vancement  in  any  pursuit.  A  temporary 
 relaxation  becomes  necessary  to  recruit  our 
 spirits,  and  prepares  us  for  returning  to  our 
 more  serious  engagements  with  renewed 
 alacrity.  Only,  let  not  this  consideration 
 be  alleged  as  an  excuse  for  indolence ;  but, 
 while  we  allow  ourselves  proper  intervals 
 of  recreation  to  invigorate  our  languishing 
 faculties,  in  the  hours  which  we  devote  to 
 business,  let  us  put.  forth  the  whole  force 
 of  our  minds.  Indolence  is  more  destruc¬ 
 tive  to  the  mind  than  the  most  intense  and 
 unremitting  application ;  nor  is  there  any 
 thing  which  we  ought  more  carefully  to 
 avoid,  than  that  state  of  listless  inactivity, 
 in  which  we  are  neither  occupied  by  busi¬ 
 ness,  nor  kept  alive  by  amusement ; — that 
 
 fatal 
 
SERMON  XVIL 
 
 285 
 
 fatal  slumber  of  the  soul,  which,  by  sus¬ 
 pending  every  generous  exertion,  wastes 
 and  enfeebles  its  powers.  But  the  activity 
 which  we  now  recommend,  is  an  activity 
 of  the  patient  and  persevering  kind ;  for 
 there  is  an  eagerness  and  impetuosity  of 
 spirit  which  frequently  defeats  itself.  There 
 are  some  persons  whose  tempers  are  too  ar¬ 
 dent  to  wait  for  the  regular  returns  of  in¬ 
 dustry.  They  devise  shorter  and  more  ex¬ 
 peditious  methods  of  attaining  the  objects 
 at  which  they  aim.  Of  this  we  have  many 
 examples  in  the  conduct  of  those  who  are 
 engaged  in  the  business  of  the  world  ;  for, 
 not  to  mention  such  as  pursue  the  profits 
 of  life,  by  fraud  and  deceit  and  injustice, 
 there  are  others  who  are  betrayed  by  the 
 same  excessive  love  of  gain,  into  romantic 
 and  visionary  schemes,  which  promise  much 
 at  a  distance,  but  end  in  disappointment 
 and  ruin.  These  are  they^  who^  hastening 
 to  become  rich^  pierce  themselves  through  with 
 many  sorroivs. 
 
 An  active  and  enterprising  spirit,  indeed, 
 is  a  quality  entitled  to  esteem.  We  ap¬ 
 plaud  the  exertions  of  the  man  who  explores 
 untrodden  paths  of  industry,  and  opens 
 
 new 
 
SERMON  XVIL 
 
 new  sources  of  wealth,  by  which,  while  his 
 own  fortune  is  improved,  the  public  pro¬ 
 sperity  is  advanced.  But  let  him  be  ad¬ 
 monished  by  the  fate  of  others,  that  he 
 walks  on  dangerous  ground ;  and  that  he 
 hath  much  need  of  circumspection  and  vi¬ 
 gilance,  lest  his  adventurous  spirit  hurry 
 him  beyond  the  limits  which  prudence  pre¬ 
 scribes,  and  involve  him,  by  some  unguard¬ 
 ed  step,  in  disasters  which  may  never  be 
 repaired. 
 
 The  same  impatience  of  mind  obstructs 
 the  progress  of  many  who  apply  themselves 
 to  the  pursuit  of  wisdom.  Ambitious  to 
 embrace  at  once  the  whole  circle  of  sci¬ 
 ence,  they  prosecute  no  one  branch  of 
 knowledge  with  persevering  industry.  Con¬ 
 tinually  shifting  from  subject  to  subject, 
 and  from  one  species  of  study  to  another, 
 they  learn  nothing  completely,  but  acquire 
 a  superficial  knowledge  of  many  things, 
 which  serves  rather  to  expose  than  to  adorn 
 them. 
 
 In  the  important  concerns  of  religion, 
 this  error  is  productive  of  still  more  fatal 
 effects.  There  are  men  who  enter  with 
 much  eagerness  and  zeal  on  the  paths  of 
 3  piety 
 
SERMON  XVIT. 
 
 287 
 
 piety  and  virtue.  But  they  forget,  that  it 
 is  only  by  a  slow  and  gradual  progress  that 
 virtuous  dispositions  can  be  matured,  and 
 the  heart  confirmed  in  goodness.  They 
 hope,  by  one  vigorous  effort,  to  change  the 
 whole  of  their  nature.  They  are  disap¬ 
 pointed,  because  they  do  not  instantly  at¬ 
 tain  the  perfection  after  which  they  aspire; 
 and  the  unavoidable  consequence  is,  either 
 that  they  satisfy  themselves  with  a  partial 
 view  of  religion,  and  suppose  it  to  consist 
 entirely  in  the  qualities  which  they  already 
 possess,  or  rashly  abandon  the  pursuit  of  it 
 as  a  task  beyond  the  reach  of  their  powers. 
 
 Remember  then,  my  friends,  that  nothing 
 truly  valuable  can  be  acquired  without  vi¬ 
 gorous  and  repeated  exertions.  Industry  is 
 not  a  mere  temporaty  effort.  It  is  a  pa¬ 
 tient,  persevering  virtue,  which  is  not  apt 
 to  be  discouraged  by  the  failure  of  its  first 
 attempts — which  being  directed  to  useful 
 objects,  conducted  by  a  regular  plan,  and 
 animated  by  the  greatness  of  its  aim,  per¬ 
 sists  against  all  opposition ;  triumphs  over 
 every  obstacle  that  occurs ;  nor  remits  its 
 generous  endeavours,  till  it  hath  attained 
 the  end  of  its  hope. 
 
 I  pro- 
 
288 
 
 SERMON  XVIE 
 
 I  proceed  now,  through  the  divine  assisO 
 ance,  to  suggest  some  arguments,  with  a 
 view  tb  recommend  the  duty  which  I  have 
 thus  endeavoured  to  explain. 
 
 I.  Consider,  in  the  first  place,  then,  that 
 ^  industry  is  the  law  of  our  condition. 
 
 God  hath  placed  us  in  a  world  in  which 
 we  'are  surrounded  with  every  thing  that 
 is  necessary  for  preserving  and  sweetening 
 our  existence.  The  earth,  the  air,  and  the 
 water,  are  stored  with  the  riches  of  his  good¬ 
 ness.  But,  in  order  that  these  riches  may 
 be  converted  to  the  use  of  man,  liiuch  care 
 and  toil  are  required.  The  ground  yields 
 not  its  fruits  spontaneously  to  support  the 
 children  of  men.  The  husbandman  must 
 prepare  the  soil — he  must  observe  the  times 
 and  the  seasons — he  must  commit  the  seed 
 to  the  furrow — he  must  wait  with  much 
 patience  for  the  former  and  the  latter  rain, 
 and  diligently  collect  the  increase  with 
 which  autumn  gladdens  the  year. 
 
 Even  in  the  state  of  innocence,  labour 
 was  ordained  for  man.  When  he  was 
 placed  in  the  garden  of  Eden,  he  was  com- 
 rruinded  to  dress  it,  and  to  keep  it  j  .and,  in 
 ^  the 
 
SERMON  XVII. 
 
 289 
 
 the  day  when  the  justice  of  Heaven  expelled 
 him  from  that  blessed  abode,  the  high  de¬ 
 cree  was  pronounced,  that,  in  the  sweat  of 
 his  face  he  should  eat  his  breads  till  he  should 
 return  to  his  native  dust.  Nothing  is  given 
 us  by  God  but  as  the  prize  of  labour  and 
 toil.  The  precious  treasures  of  the  earth 
 lie  hid  from  human  view ;  and  we  must 
 dig  in  order  to  find  them.  Our  food,  our 
 raiment,  our  habitations,  all  the  conveni¬ 
 ences  that  minister  to  the  defence  and  the 
 comfort  of  our  lives,  are  the  fruits  of  those 
 numberless  arts  which  exercise  the  inge¬ 
 nuity  of  mankind.  The  circumstances  in 
 which  we  are  placed,  declare  the  purpose  of 
 Heaven  with  regard  to  the  human  race, 
 and  admonish  us,  that  to  abandon  ourselves- 
 to  sloth  is  to  forget  the  end  of  our  being. 
 
 Industry  is  the  law  of  every  condition* 
 Are  you  poor  ?  Let  your  wants  rouse  you  - 
 to  diligence.  Think  how  mean  it  is  to  be 
 indebted  to  the  bounty  of  others  for  what 
 your  own  hands  can  earn,  and  what  digni¬ 
 ty  independence  adds  even  to  the  humblest 
 station.  Those,  indeed,  who  groan  under 
 the  pressure  of  age  or  disease,  have  a  claim 
 on  the  compassion  of  their  brethren.  To 
 
 T  such 
 
290 
 
 SERMON  XVII. 
 
 such  persons  poverty  is  no  reproach ;  but 
 poverty  is  a  real  disgrace  to  the  idle.  Waste 
 not  your  time,  then,  in  complaining  of  the 
 hardships  of  your  lot ;  but  rather  strive  to 
 alleviate  and  remove  them.  Consider  what 
 you  owe  to  those  who  are  more  immedi¬ 
 ately  committed  to  your  care.  Your  chil¬ 
 dren  are  cold,  and  naked,  and  destitute 
 of  daily  food*  Thou  sluggard  !  behold  the 
 looks,  and  listen  to  the  cries  of  thy  children; 
 and,  if  still  thou  callest  thyself  a  parent, 
 arise  from  the  bed  of  sloth.  Nor  think  it 
 enough  that  you  provide  for  them  the  mere 
 common  necessaries  of  life.  You  owe  them 
 the  means  of  instruction. — You  owe  them 
 every  advantage  that  can  promote  their 
 advancement  in  the  world — You  owe  them 
 every  comfort  which  your  industry  can  en¬ 
 able  you  to  procure.  The  labours  of  those 
 who  are  placed  in  the  lower  ranks  of  life, 
 are  too  often  undervalued  and  despised. 
 Let  not  this  consideration,  however,  dis¬ 
 courage  your  hearts,  or  damp  your  exer¬ 
 tions.  Form  a  proper  estimate  of  your 
 condition,  and  respect  your  own  cares  and 
 toils.  You  move,  indeed,  in  an  humble 
 sphere ;  nor  can  your  conduct,  however 
 
 useful 
 
SERMON  XVir. 
 
 291 
 
 useful  to  the  community,  ever  possess  that 
 outward  splendour  which  accompanies  the 
 virtues  of  the  great.  But,  if  you  discharge 
 with  fidelity  and  diligence  the  duties  of 
 your  inferior  station,  you  are  entitled  to 
 the  praise  of  well-doing — you  fill  your  place 
 with  honour*  It  is  by  such  services  as  yours 
 that  the  public  prosperity  is  advanced.  Your 
 labours  repay  the  state  for  the  protection 
 and  security  which  it  affords.  You  may 
 lift  up  your  heads  with  confidence,  and  so¬ 
 lace  yourselves  with  the  animating  thought, 
 that  you  have  acquired  a  better  title  to  the 
 esteem  and  gratitude  of  your  fellow-citizens, 
 than  those  who  live  only  to  consume  the 
 fruits  of  your  industry,  while  they  contri¬ 
 bute  nothing  in  return  to  increase  the  ge¬ 
 neral  good. 
 
 Are  you  blest  with  affluence  ?  Think  not, 
 I  beseech  you,  my  friends,  that,  because  you 
 are  raised  above  the  reach  of  want,  you  have 
 a  right  to  dismiss  every  serious  reflection, 
 and  abandon  every  useful  pursuit.  Is  this 
 the  purpose  for  which  you  are  placed  in  the 
 world,  that  you  may  be  fed  by  the  labours 
 of  others,  yourselves  a  mere  incumbrance 
 and  burden  on  those  by  whom  the  duties 
 
 T  2  of 
 
292  ■ 
 
 SERMON  XVIL 
 
 of  society  are  fulfilled  ?  Is  this  the  privi¬ 
 lege  of  your  condition  ?  Is  this  the  distinc¬ 
 tion  of  your  raijk  ?  Is  it  for  this  that  you 
 claim  the  respect  of  those  who  are  placed 
 beneath  you  ?  Are  your  riches,  your  lei¬ 
 sure,  your  influence,  given  you  by  God  in 
 vain  ?  or  can  you  be  content  to  pass  through 
 life  without  one  generous  effort  to  adorn 
 your  exalted  station,  and  to  distinguish 
 yourselves  as  the  benefactors  of  mankind  ? 
 
 The  man  whom  want  alone  can  rouse  to 
 exertion,  is  destined  to  move  in  some  gro- 
 'velling  sphere  of  life.  In  the  higher  orders 
 of  men,  we  expect  that  elevation  of  mind 
 which  aspires  above  vulgar  accomplish¬ 
 ments,  and  prompts  to  glorious  deeds. 
 But  what  that  is  great  or  excellent  can  be 
 acquired  without  labour  and  toil  ?  Do  you 
 wish  to  rise  to  honour  ?  Would  you  attain 
 to  some  station  of  trust,  in  which,  by  ren¬ 
 dering  essential  services  to  your  country, 
 you  may  secure  lasting  distinction  and 
 fame  ?  For  such  preferments  as  these  in¬ 
 dustry  is  the  proper  preparation — to  such 
 preferments  as  these  industry  is  the  proper 
 path.  Seest  thou  a  man  diligent  in  busineas? 
 
 He  shall  stand  before  kings.  Who  are  the 
 
 2 
 
 men 
 
SERMON  XVII. 
 
 293 
 
 men  whose  opinions  rule  in  the  public 
 councils — to  whom,  in  matters  of  delicate 
 discussion,  their  brethren  look  up  for  ad¬ 
 vice,  and  whose  words,  amidst  the  tumults 
 of  faction,  are  heard  with  respect  and  si¬ 
 lence  ?  It  is  not  wealth  or  rank,  that,  on 
 such  occasions  as  these,  can  command  at¬ 
 tention  and  reverence.  It  is  the  man  in 
 whom  sound  ability  hath  been  matured  by 
 vigorous  application — whom  neither  indo¬ 
 lence  nor  pleasure  have  seduced  from  the 
 pursuit  of  useful  knowledge — who  hath  in¬ 
 clined  his  ear  unto  wisdom^  and  applied  his 
 heart  to  understanding. 
 
 Next  to  religion  and  virtue,  wisdom  is 
 the  greatest  ornament  of  our  nature.  It 
 sheds  a  lustre  on  every  station — it  procures 
 for  its  possessor  the  truest  influence — it 
 commands  the  minds  of  men.  But  how 
 is  wisdom  to  be  acquired  ?  She  is  to  be 
 found  of  those  only  who  seek  her  in  the  path 
 of  indust7y  with  anxious  and  unwearied 
 care — of  those  who  seek  her  as  silver and 
 search  for  her  as  for  hidden  treasures, 
 
 II.  Nor  is  industry  to  be  chosen  by  man 
 ©nly  for  the  sake  of  the  many  advantages 
 
 T  3  which 
 
294 
 
 SERMON  XVII. 
 
 which  cannot  otherwise  be  attained.  It  is 
 itself  a  source  of  happiness. 
 
 The  mind  delights  in  exercise.  When  its 
 desires  are  steadily  fixed,  and  its  faculties 
 vigorously  employed  in  the  pursuit  of  any 
 useful  object,  it  becomes  conscious  of  its ' 
 own  strength,  and  feels  a  secret  compla¬ 
 cence  and  exultation  which  yield  the  purest 
 enjoyment. 
 
 The  comforts  which  industry  procures, 
 have  a  relish  peculiar  to  themselves.  The 
 exertion  by  wliich  they  are  acquired  is  plea¬ 
 sant  ;  and  the  recollection  of  that  exertion 
 serves  afterwards  to  heighten  their  flavour. 
 The  sluggard  i^oasteth  that  which  he  took  not 
 in  hunting  ;  but  the  substance  of  the  diligent 
 man  is  precious.  He  feels  what  a  difference 
 there  is  between  the  choicest  gifts  of  for¬ 
 tune,  and  the  fruits  of  virtuous  labour.  He 
 enjoys  the  advantages  of  his  condition  with 
 a  satisfaction  to  which  the  indolent  are 
 strangers.  He  surveys  them  as  his  own 
 creation,  and  rejoices  in  the  work  of  his 
 hands. 
 
 Business  sweetens  pleasure  as  labour 
 sweetens  rest.  Recreation  supposes  em¬ 
 ployment  ;  and  the  indolent  are  incapable 
 ^  of 
 
S  E  R  M  O  N  XVIL  295 
 
 of  tasting  the  happiness  which  it  is  fitted 
 to  yield.  Idleness  is  an  unnatural  state,  in 
 which  the  mind  becomes  a  prey  to  a  thou¬ 
 sand  nameless  ills.  Who  are  the  persons 
 that  are  most  apt  to  sink  into  peevishness 
 and  dejection — that  are  continually  com¬ 
 plaining  of  the  world,  and  see  nothing  but 
 wretchedness  around  them?  Are  they  those 
 whom  want  compels  to  toil  for  their  daily 
 bread — who  have  no  treasure  but  the  la¬ 
 bour  of  their  hands — who  rise  with  the 
 rising  sun  to  expose  themselves  to  all  the 
 rigours  of  the  seasons,  unsheltered  from  the 
 winter's  cold,  and  unshaded  from  the  sum¬ 
 mer’s  heat  ?  No.  The  labours  of  such  are 
 the  very  blessing  of  their  condition.  Exer¬ 
 tion  sustains  their  souls,  and  banishes  every 
 dismal  thought.  When  the  fatigues  of  the 
 day  are  past,  they  retire  to  their  humble 
 abode,  to  feast  with  untroubled  joy  on  the 
 comforts  which  their  hands  have  earned. 
 Their  spirits  exhausted,  yet  serene,  are  pre¬ 
 pared  to  resign  themselves  to  rest ;  and 
 sleep,  which  flies  from  the  couch  of  the 
 sluggard,  comes  as  an  ^ngel  of  peace  to 
 them. 
 
 T  4 
 
 Discontent 
 
SERMON  XVII. 
 
 Discontent,  and  peevishness,  and  imagi¬ 
 nary  wretchedness,  are  the  offspring  of  afr 
 fluence  and  sloth.  Observe  the  condition 
 of  many  on  whom  Providence  seems  to 
 have  bestowed  whatever  the  heart  can  de¬ 
 sire.  Mark  their  languid  looks,  and  the  de¬ 
 jection  which  they  are  unable  to  conceal _ 
 
 Their  feeble  vacant  minds  have  begun  to 
 prey  on  themselves  ; — their  fancies  are  per¬ 
 petually  filled  with  a  thousand  direful 
 images ; — unhappy  in  every  situation,  they 
 wander  from  place  to  place,  seeking  what 
 they  cannot  find  ; — amusement  hath  ceased 
 to  please  ; — their  spirits  sink  within  them, 
 and  existence  is  felt  to  be  a  burden  from 
 which  they  long  to  be  relieved. 
 
 Why  is  existence  a  burden  to  the  man  in 
 whose  lot  a  bountiful  Providence  hath  unit¬ 
 ed  all  the  means  of  enjoyment  ?  or  how 
 shall  the  unhappy  sufferer  be  delivered  from 
 miseries  like  these  ?  It  is  indolence  that  is 
 the  cause  of  his  wretchedness,  and  for  the 
 miseries  of  which  he  complains,  there  is  only 
 one  remedy  to  be  found.  Let  him  devote 
 himself  to  some  useful  pursuit, — to  this  let 
 him  study  to  direct  the  restless  activity  of 
 his  mind, — then  shall  his  languishing  fa¬ 
 culties 
 
SERMON  XVII. 
 
 297 
 
 culties  recover  their  native  vigour, — every 
 gloomy  thought  shall  vanish, — amusement 
 shall  please  again,  and  life  shall  be  regard¬ 
 ed  as  a  blessing,  when  he  hath  learned  to 
 enjoy  and  to  improve  it. 
 
 III.  Industry  contributes  to  the  virtue  no 
 less  than  to  the  happiness  of  life. 
 
 They  who  abandon  themselves  to  sloth, 
 cannot  long  preserve  their  innocence.  Their 
 minds,  withdrawn  from  every  proper  em¬ 
 ployment,  become  a  prey  to  innumerable 
 temptations ;  their  fancies,  left  to  wander 
 unrestrained,  are  attx'acted  by  unworthy  ob¬ 
 jects  ;  images  of  guilt  are  presented  to  ex¬ 
 cite  their  latent  corruption ;  the  heart 
 yields  itself  a  captive,  and  the  purpose  of 
 iniquity  is  conceived. 
 
 Business  is  the  great  barrier  against  vice ; 
 it  guards  the  avenues  of  the  soul,  and  ex¬ 
 cludes  every  evil  thought.  The  man  whose 
 attention  is  fixed  on  any  useful  object,  is  in 
 little  danger  of  being  seduced  by  the  solici¬ 
 tations  of  sinful  pleasure  : — his  mind  is  pre- 
 engaged  and  filled,  and  temptation  courts 
 him  in  vain. 
 
 There 
 
298 
 
 SERMON  XVII. 
 
 There  are  many  vices  to  which  idleness 
 inevitably  leads.  That  unprofitable  and 
 frivolous  conversation  in  which  some  per¬ 
 sons  consume  so  great  a  portion  of  their 
 time, — that  inquisitive  and  ofRcious  temper 
 which  is  so  apt  to  engender  strife, — those 
 harsh  suspicions  and  calumnies  by  which  so 
 many  worthy  characters  are  blackened,  and 
 which  contribute  so  much  to  interrupt  and 
 poison  the  happiness  of  society  ;  these  are 
 the  vices  of  the  idle,  who,  devoting  them¬ 
 selves  to  no  pursuit  by  which  their  own 
 condition  can  be  improved,  seek  for  em¬ 
 ployment  in  exercises  that  disturb  the  tran¬ 
 quillity  of  their  neighbours. 
 
 Among  the  lower  orders  of  men  idleness 
 leads  directly  to  injustice.  It  first  reduces 
 them  to  poverty,  and  then  tempts  them  to 
 supply  their  wants  by  all  the  arts  of  disho¬ 
 nesty  and  baseness. 
 
 In  the  higher  ranks  of  life  it  leads  to  dis¬ 
 sipation  and  extravagance.  We  are  asto¬ 
 nished  at  the  folly  of  those  whom  we  be¬ 
 hold  wasting  their  health  and  their  fortune 
 in  scenes  of  perpetual  riot,  or  exposing 
 themselves  and  their  families  to  ruin,  by 
 trusting  the  patrimony  which  is  destined  to 
 
 maintain 
 
SERMON  XVII. 
 
 ^99 
 
 maintain  them,  to  the  uncertain  decision 
 of  chance.  We  wonder  what  strange  infa¬ 
 tuation  can  lead  them  to  seek  their  plea¬ 
 sure  in  courses  so  evidently  destructive.  It 
 is  indolence — it  is  indolence  alone  that 
 drives  them  to  courses  like  these.  It  is  in¬ 
 dolence,  which,  having  estranged  them  from 
 every  worthy  pursuit,  hath  left  them  no 
 other  means  of  exercising  the  activity  of 
 their  minds.  The  vices  to  which  they  a- 
 bandon  themselves,  are  a  miserable  substi¬ 
 tute  for  business.  They  find  in  the  scenes 
 of  riot  a  temporary  relief  from  the  lan¬ 
 guor  to  which  the  want  of  occupation  gives 
 rise ;  and  so  painful  to  the  human  mind  is  a 
 state  of  total  inaction,  that  even  the  dan¬ 
 ger  to  which  the  gamester  exposes  himself, 
 seems  compensated  by  the  agitation  which 
 it  affords. 
 
 How  long  will  you  seek  for  happiness  in 
 paths  \vhere  it  is  not  to  be  found  ?  Your 
 very  vices  declare  that  you  are  formed  for 
 an  active  existence.  Be  persuaded  to  give 
 a  right  direction  to  this  useful  propensity 
 of  your  nature  ;  devote  yourselves  to  such 
 pursuits  as  may  exercise  without  corrupting 
 your  minds, — ^to  pursuits  that  are  worthy 
 
 of 
 
300 
 
 SERMON  XVII. 
 
 of  your  character  as  men,  and  safe  for  your¬ 
 selves  and  your  children. 
 
 -  Industry  is  the  guardian  of  innocence — 
 industry  is  the  instrument  of  virtue;  it  in¬ 
 vigorates  our  active  powers,  and  prepares 
 us  for  every  generous  exertion. 
 
 Even  worldly  business  contributes  to  for¬ 
 tify  us  against  the  allurements  of  guilt;  but 
 if  we  are  desirous  to  make  advancement  in 
 goodness,  there  are  other  labours  to  be  sus¬ 
 tained _ To  acquire  a  thorough  knowledge 
 
 of  our  own  hearts  and  characters, — to  re¬ 
 strain  every  irregular  inclination, — to  sub¬ 
 due  every  rebellious  passion, — to  purify  the 
 motives  of  our  conduct, — to  form  ourselves 
 to  that  temperance  which  no  pleasure  can 
 seduce, — to  that  meekness  which  no  provo¬ 
 cation  can  ruffle, — to  that  patience  which 
 no  affliction  can  overwhelm,  and. that  in¬ 
 tegrity  which  no  interest  can  shake ;  this  is 
 the  task  which  is  assigned  to  us, — a  task 
 which  cannot  be  performed  without  the 
 most  unwearied  diligence  and  care. 
 
 Our  duty  is  various  and  extensive ;  it  in¬ 
 cludes  the  strictest  watchfulness  over  our¬ 
 selves, — the  most’  ardent  piety  to  God, — the 
 most  disinterested  benevolence  to  mankind ; 
 
 it 
 
SERMON  XVII. 
 
 301 
 
 it  requires  a  constant  and  unremitting  at¬ 
 tention  to  every  action, — to  every  word, 
 
 _ to  every  thought*  Indolent  wishes  will 
 
 not  satisfy  the  demands  of  religion  and 
 virtue.  Virtue  is  a  practical  principle.  It 
 consists  not  in  desires  and  purposes,  but  in 
 deeds.  There  is  a  work  of  righteousness  to 
 be  performed, — there  is  a  labour  of  love  to 
 be  endured.  If  we  are  ambitious  to  merit 
 the  praise,  or  to  obtain  the  reward  of  well¬ 
 doing,  we  must  not  reckon  it  enough  to 
 improve  occasions  as  they  offer  ;  we  must 
 seek  out  opportunities  of  beneficence.  We 
 must  not  think  it  sufficient  to  melt  with 
 fruitless  sorrow  at  the  tale  of  human  woe ; 
 we  must  enquire  after  the  widow  and 
 the  orphan  ;  we  must  enter  into  the  abode 
 of  misery  ;  we  must  endure  the  sight  of 
 wretchedness.  While  we  shed  the  tear  of 
 compassion,  we  must  open  the  hand  of  cha¬ 
 rity  ;  nor  shrink  from  the  most  painful  of¬ 
 fice  by  which  we  can  minister  to  the  com¬ 
 fort  of  our  brethren. 
 
 Opportunities  of  beneficence  are  every 
 where  to  be  found.  Every  where  there  are 
 the  ignorant  to  instruct,  or  the  heedless  to 
 warn, — the  good  to  animate,  or  the  wicked 
 *  '  t© 
 
302 
 
 SERMON  XVir. 
 
 to  restrain, — the  modest  to  help  forward,* 
 — the  injured  to  protect, — the  sorrowful  to 
 solace,  or  the  indigent  to  relieve* 
 
 Every  situation  and  every  occurrence  of 
 life,  calls  the  Christian  to  the  performance 
 of  some  duties  peculiar  to  itself ;  nor  is  there 
 any  stage  of  his  improvement  at  which  he 
 is  permitted  to  stop.  He  is  commanded  to 
 aspire  after  perfection, — To  forget  the  things 
 that  are  behind^ — to  reach  forth  to  the  things 
 that  are  before^  and  to  press  continually  to 
 the  mark  for  the  pnze  of  his  high  calling. 
 
 Awake,  then,  ye  followers  of  Jesus, — a- 
 wake  from  the  dream  of  sloth ; — ^think  not 
 that  the  bliss  of  Heaven  shall  solicit  the  ac¬ 
 ceptance  of  those  who  count  it  unworthy 
 of  their  labour.  It  is,  indeed,  the  gift  of 
 God  ;  but  he  gives  it  as  the  reward  of  exer¬ 
 tion.  They  who  have  gone  before  you  to 
 the  mansions  of  your  Father’s  house,  sought 
 for  honour  and  immortality  by  a  patient  con-^ 
 tinuance  in  well-doing.  By  labour  their 
 hearts  were  purified, — by  labour  their  pas¬ 
 sions  were  subdued,- — by  labour  their  vir¬ 
 tues  were  matured, — by  labour  their  natures 
 were  assimilated  to  the  character  of  those 
 exalted  spirits  with  whom  they  are  now  per¬ 
 mitted 
 
SERMON  XVII. 
 
 303 
 
 mitted  to  mingle.  From  the  place  to  which 
 they  are  advanced,  the  eye  of  the  Master 
 whom  you  serve  beholds  you  amidst  the 
 duties  of  life  ;  and  from  on  high  his  voice  is 
 heard,  inviting  you  to  share  in  their  tri¬ 
 umph,  and  exhorting  you  to  emulate  their 
 toils.  To  him  that  overcometh  will  I  give  to 
 sit  down  with  me  on  my  thronCi  even  as  I  also 
 have  overcome^  and  am  set  down  with  my 
 Father  on  his  throne.  Behold  !  saith  the  true 
 and  the  faithful  witness,,  I  come  quickly,  and 
 my  reward  is  with  me.  Therefore  lift  up  the 
 hands  that  hang  down,  and  strengthen  the 
 feeble  knees  ;  be  not  weary  in  well-doing,  for 
 in  due  season  ye  shall  reap,  if  ye  faint  not. 
 
 ON 
 
GN  THE  INSTRUCTIONS  TO  BE  DERIVED 
 FROM  RECALLING  THE  MEMORY  OF 
 OUR  FATHERS.. 
 
 Preached  before  the  Society  incorporated  by  Royal  Charter,  for  the 
 benefit  of  the  Sons  of  the  Clergy  of  the  Established  Church  of  Scot¬ 
 land,  in  the  Tron  Church  of  Edinburgh,  19th  May  1797. 
 
 SERMON  XVIIl. 
 
 ZECHARIAH,  I.  5. 
 
 Your  fathers^  where  are  they  ?  and  the  prophetSj 
 do  they  live  for  ever  ? 
 
 It  is  natural  for  us,  at  times,  to  look  back 
 on  the  days  that  are  past ;  to  recall  the  re¬ 
 membrance  of  those  who  have  gone  before 
 us  to  the  land  of  darkness,  and  to  inquire, 
 with  the  prophet  in  the  text,  Our  fatherSi 
 where  are  they  ?  Such  of  you  as  have  arriv¬ 
 ed  at  maturity  of  life,  recollect  that  the  sta¬ 
 tions  which  you  n^iw  fill  were  lately  occu¬ 
 pied  by  others,  who,  having  finished  the 
 course  prescribed  to  them,  retired,  in  suc¬ 
 cession. 
 
SERMON  XVIII. 
 
 3()5 
 
 cession,  from  the  scene,  leaving  their  places 
 to  be  supplied,  and  their  possessions  to  be 
 inherited  by  you.  There  are  many  of  you, 
 whose  earthly  parents  have  already  been 
 numbered  with  the  dead  ;  and  we  have  all 
 had  occasion  to  bewail  the  loss  of  friends 
 to  whom  we  were  attached  by  esteem  and 
 affection.  It  is  a  tribute  which  we  owe  to 
 their  memory,  to  recal  them  occasionally  to 
 our  thoughts.  The  hope  of  this  was  a 
 source  of  consolation  to  them  amidst  the 
 cares  and  the  duties  of  life.  While  they  la¬ 
 boured  in  their  generation,  to  distinguish 
 themselves  as  the  benefactors  of  mankind, 
 they  flattered  themselves  that  they  were 
 establishing  a  name  which  should  survive 
 their  departure  from  the  world  ;  while  they 
 studied  to  secure  our  aft'ection,  by  every  of¬ 
 fice  of  tenderness  and  love,  they  trusted  that 
 no  length  of  time  should  efface  their  image 
 from  our  hearts.  Above  all,  in  the  last 
 scene  of  life,  when  they  saw  our  sympathy 
 for  their  distress,  our  grief  at  the  prospect 
 of  a  separation,  the  tears  which  we  mingled 
 with  theirs,  and  the  unalterable  attachment 
 which  we  expressed,  while  we  seemed  desir¬ 
 ous  to  go  down  wuth  them  to  the  grave, 
 
 u  thev 
 
SERMON  XVIII. 
 
 306 
 
 they  believed  that  they  possessed  a  place  in 
 our  affections,  of  which  even  death  could 
 not  deprive  them,  and  descended  with  less 
 reluctance  to  the  tomb,  because  they  hoped 
 that  they  were  still  to  live  in  the  grateful 
 remembrance  of  their  friends. — And  shall 
 we  disappoint  the  fond  expectation  with 
 which  they  consoled  themselves  in  the  day 
 of  their  departure  ?  Shall  we  suffer  their 
 memory  to  perish  ?  Shall  we  never  think 
 of  them  again  ?  nor  inquire  with  the  pro¬ 
 phet  in  the  text.  Our  fatkerSy  where  arc 
 they  ? 
 
 Our  fathers  once  were  dear  to  us.  In  the 
 day  when  they  were  torn  from  our  em¬ 
 brace,  we  believed  that  we  should  never 
 forget  them  ;  and,  though  now  we  have 
 found  other  friends,  whose  society  affords 
 us  consolation,  still,  in  the  hour  of  serious 
 meditation,  our  hearts  are  irresistibly  at¬ 
 tracted  to  the  place  where  our  fathers  are 
 laid,  and  seek  a  melancholy  pleasure  in  the 
 recollection  of  their  kindness  and  their  vir¬ 
 tues.  This  exercise  is  dictated  by  affection, 
 and  it  may  minister  to  our  improvement. 
 
 I  shall  endeavour,  therefore,  in  the  follow¬ 
 ing  discourse,  first  to  illustrate  the  instruc¬ 
 tions 
 
/ 
 
 SERMON  XVIIL 
 
 307 
 
 I 
 
 tions  which  it  is  fitted  to  afford  to  all  classes 
 of  men  ;  and,  then,  consider  these  instruc¬ 
 tions,  with  a  more  particular  reference  to 
 the  purpose  of  our  meeting  at  this  time. 
 
 I.  By  meditating  on  the  fate  of  our  fa¬ 
 thers,  we  are  reminded  that  we  too  must 
 die.  This  is  an  interesting  truth,  fitted  to 
 check  the  giddiness  of  our  minds, — to  mo¬ 
 derate  our  attachment  to  the  world,  and  to 
 rouse  us  to  the  diligent  performance  of  the 
 duties  that  belong  to  our  stations.  It  is  a 
 truth,  too,  so  obvious,  and  so  fully  illustrat¬ 
 ed  by  the  events  which  are  daily  happening 
 around  us,  that  one  should  imagine,  it  could 
 hardly  fail  to  be  sufficiently  impressed  on  our 
 minds.  Yet,  alas  !  how  seldom  doth  it  oc¬ 
 cur  to  us,  amidst  the  business  and  the  plea¬ 
 sures  of  life  !  How  many  persons  do  we  see 
 passing  from  youth  to  manhood,  and  from 
 manhood  to  the  extremity  of  old  age,  with¬ 
 out  seeming  to  consider,  even  for  a  mo¬ 
 ment,  that  their  days  are  drawing  to  a  close, 
 and,  even  to  the  last,  solacing  themselves 
 with  the  prospect  of  the  years  that  are  yet 
 to  come.  They  pursue  the  enjoyments  of 
 the  world  with  an  eagerness  ill  suited  to 
 
 u  2  the 
 
SERMON  X?1II. 
 
 W6 
 
 \ 
 
 the  tenure  by  which  they  hold  them.  They 
 form  their  plans  of  interest  and  ambition, 
 as  if  they  looked  for  an  immortal  existence 
 on  the  earth.  They  live  as  if  they  knew 
 not  that  they  are  to  die. 
 
 It  is,  indeed,  a  fortunate  circumstance  in 
 the  nature  of  man,  that,  though  his  Maker 
 hath  formed  him  a  mortal  being,  the  idea 
 of  his  dissolution  doth  not  continually  haunt 
 his  mind.  Did  he  know,  precisely,  the 
 bounds  that  are  prescribed  to  his  present 
 existence,  and  were  death  perpetually  in  his 
 thoughts,  the  constant  anticipation  of  so 
 mournful  an  event  would  throw  a  damp 
 over  all  his  enjoyments,  and  disqualify  him 
 for  the  proper  discharge  of  the  duties 
 which  are  here  assigned  to  him.  Accord¬ 
 ingly,  our  Creator  hath,  in  mercy,  ordained 
 that  we  should  be  attracted  by  the  objects 
 which  surround  us, — that  we  should  take 
 an  interest  in  the  business  of  the  world,  and 
 lose,  for  a  while,  the  apprehension  of  our 
 mortality  amidst  the  bustle  of  active  life. 
 But,  though  we  are  not  required  to  dwell 
 with  perpetual  melancholy,  on  the  thought 
 of  our  departure  from  the  world,  it  is  sure¬ 
 ty  proper  to  reflect,  at  times,  on  the  real 
 
 nature 
 
SERMON  XVlIL 
 
 309 
 
 nature  of  our  condition,  and  to  look  for-- 
 ward  with  becoming  seriousness  to  an  event 
 wdiich  must  inevitably  befal  us.  For,  it  is 
 riot  by  striving  to  dismiss  the  thought  of 
 death,  that  we  can  conquer  the  terror  which 
 it  inspires.  This  is  the  refuge  of  those  feeble 
 and  timorous  spirits  who  meanly  shrink 
 from  the  prospect  of  what  they 'know  they 
 cannot  escape.  The  man  who  is  superior 
 to  the  fear  of  death,  is  he  who  hath  viewed 
 it  calmly  in  all  its  various  aspects  ;  who 
 hath  allowed  it  to  have  its  proper  influence 
 oil  his  conductj  and  who  feels  himself  pre¬ 
 pared  for  the  change  Which  at  last  it  must 
 unavoidably  produce.  Be  persuaded,  then, 
 ye  children  of  men,  to  contemplate  the  si¬ 
 tuation  in  which  you  are  placed.  The  time 
 was  when  your  fathers  succeeded  to  a  race 
 who  had  gone  before  them.  It  was  but 
 lately  that  they  occupied  the  stations  which 
 you  at  present  possess  ; — and  now,  where 
 are  they?  They  are  gone,  and  you  must 
 follow  thein.  Their  fate  is  a  lesson  to  you. 
 It  reminds  you  that  life  is  given  you  as  a 
 season  of  improvement  for  immortality  : — 
 that  it  is  given  you  only  for  a  limited  term  ; 
 — that  this  term  is  daily  drawing  to  its 
 
 V  3  close  3 
 
310 
 
 SERMON  XVllI. 
 
 close  ;  that  not  a  moment  of  it  can  be  lost 
 with  safety. 
 
 •  11.  By  meditating  on  the  fate  of  our  fa¬ 
 thers,  we  learn  what  are  the  objects  that 
 are  most  worthy  of  our  pursuit.  Look  a- 
 round  you,  my  friends,  and  consider  the 
 various  pursuits  in  which  the  men  of  the 
 world  are  engaged.  You  see  some  of  them 
 bent  on  the  acquisition  of  riches, — labour¬ 
 ing  with  incessant  care, — denying  them¬ 
 selves  all  the  pleasures  of  life, — sacrificing 
 their  ease  and  their’  comfort ;  and,  it  may 
 be,  their  virtue  too,  in  order  to  increase 
 their  worldly  store.  You  see  others  grasp¬ 
 ing,  with  eager  hand,  at  the  phantoms  of 
 honour  and  power ;  seeking  distinction  and 
 preferment  amidst  scenes  of  perpetual  com¬ 
 petition  ;  striving,  by  many  toilsome  steps, 
 to  gain  the  giddy  height  of  ambition ;  or, 
 looking  down,  with  ill  founded  contempt, 
 on  the  multitude  who  remain  below.  You 
 see  o-thers  ambitious,  •  chiefly,  to  catch  the 
 admiration  of  their  brethren,  by  an  osten¬ 
 tatious  display  of  their  wealth  ;  assembling 
 around  them  a  crowd  of  flatterers  ;  pleasing 
 themselves  with  the  homage  which  is  paid 
 
 to 
 
 2 
 
SERMON  XVIII. 
 
 311 
 
 to  them  by  the  frivolous,  or  the  interested  ; 
 nor  aiming  at  any  higher  distinction  than 
 their  rank  and  their  fortune  can  procure. 
 Inconsiderate  men !  who  thus  misplace  their 
 afFections>  and  suffer  their  happiness  to  rest 
 on  objects  so  uncertian  as  these.  We  blame 
 them  not  for  seeking  the  comforts  and  con¬ 
 veniences  of  life  in  the  path  of  virtuous  in¬ 
 dustry, — we  blame  them  not  for  wishing  to 
 rise  to  honour  and  distinction  among  men, 
 — we  blame  them  not  for  assuming  a  mag¬ 
 nificence  suited  to  their  station  in  the 
 world ;  these  things  are  lawful  and  right. 
 But  we  charge  them  as  foolish  and  incon¬ 
 siderate,  if  they  place  their  supreme  felici¬ 
 ty  in  objects  so  precarious  and  perishable, 
 in  preference  to  those  higher  objects  which 
 claim  their  first  regard.  For,  yet  a  little 
 while,  and  whose  shall  tliese  things  be  ? 
 Tour  fathers,  where  are  they?  They,  too, 
 once  figured  on  the  scene  of  life.  Their 
 wealth,  their  power,  their  honour  once  at¬ 
 tracted  the  admiration  of  the  multitude, 
 and  shed  a  lustre  around  their  abode.  And 
 now,  where  are  they  ?  Their  glory  is  laid 
 in  the  dust,— ^4heir  wealth  hath  descended 
 to  others.  The  giddy  crowd  no  longer  ad- 
 
 u  4  nhre 
 
312 
 
 SERMON  XVIIL 
 
 mire  them.  They  receive  no  longer  the 
 homage  of  the  interested,  nor  doth  the 
 voice  of  flattery  sooth  them  in  the  grave. 
 Is  there  nothing  of  their  own,  then,  that 
 still  remains  to  them  ^  Yes,  there  is  a  real 
 greatness  more  worthy  of  your  ambition,— 
 a  greatness  which  survives  the  stroke  of 
 death.  If  their  wisdom  hath  served  to 
 enlighten  the  world, — if  their  beneficence 
 hath  made  provision  for  the  happiness  of 
 those  who  have  succeeded  them, — if  their 
 example  hath  attracted  others  to  the  prac¬ 
 tice  of  piety  and  virtue,  the  fruits  of  these 
 exertions  are  still  their  own.  The  good 
 which  they  have  done  remains  for  ever 
 it  remains  to  embalm  their  memory,  and 
 to’  exalt  their  name.  Posterity  renders  to 
 them  the  honour  that  is  due  to  such  distin¬ 
 guished  benefactors, — their  history  is  re¬ 
 corded  for  the  instruction  of  generations 
 yet  unborn, — race  speaks  of  them  unto 
 race  ;  the  virtues  by  which  they  have  con¬ 
 tributed  to  improve  and  sweeten  society, 
 are  still  exerted  in  a  higher  sphere  ;  they 
 have  followed  them  to  the  house  of  their 
 Father,  and  there  they  continue  to  shine 
 
 with  a  glory  that  shall  never  fade. 
 
 3 
 
 III.  Bv 
 
SERMON  XVIIL 
 
 313 
 
 III.  By  recalling  the  memory  of  our  fa¬ 
 thers,  we  learn  to  imitate  their  virtues.  The 
 grave  of  a  good  man  is  a  scene  of  much  in¬ 
 struction  and  improvement.  While  we 
 think  of  the  virtues  of  his  life,  and  the  ser¬ 
 vices  which  he  hath  rendered  to  society ; 
 while  we  observe  the  respect  that  is  shown 
 to  his  memory,  and  the  regret  which  his 
 departure  hath  excited  in  the  hearts  of  ail 
 who  knew  him ;  while  we  follow  him  to 
 the  regions  of  immortality,  and  view  him 
 as  already  in  possession  of  the  recompense 
 annexed  to  well-doing,  how  many  motives 
 occur  to  rouse  us  to  the  imitation  of  his 
 conduct  !  We  bewail  the  loss  which  the 
 world  hath  sustained  by  his  death,  and 
 wish  that  it  were  in  our  power  to  repair 
 it ;  we  feel  a  generous  admiration  of  a  cha¬ 
 racter  which  all  seem  desirous  to  exalt ;  we 
 glow  with  ardent  ambition  to  share  in  the 
 honours  which  he  hath  earned,  and  to  par¬ 
 take  of  that  everlasting  reward  with  which 
 we  trust  his  virtues  have  been  crowned. 
 Let  me  die  the  death  of  the  righteous^  and 
 let  my  last  end  be  like  his.  If  wo,  were  con¬ 
 nected  with  him  by  any  of  the  nearer  ties 
 of  life,  we  feel  a  still  stronger  obligation 
 
 imposed 
 
SERMON  XVIII. 
 
 imposed  on  us  to  maintain  the  same  cha-^ 
 racter  in  the  world.  Was  this  excellent 
 man  thy  father  ?  How  dear  to  thee  must 
 be  the  remembrance  of  his  virtues !  Re¬ 
 collect  whose  son  thou  art,  and  what  thou 
 owest  to  thy  name.  The  virtues  of  thy  fa¬ 
 ther  are  still  remembered ;  his  wealth  and 
 his  honours  have  descended  to  thee ;  and  the 
 eyes  of  the  world  are  fixed  on  thy  conduct, 
 to  discover  whether  thou  art  equally  deserv¬ 
 ing  of  them.  Thy  father  was  an  ornament 
 nd  a  blessing  to  the  age  in  which  he  lived, 
 — and  what  art  thou  ?  Ah  !  let  it  never  be 
 said  that  thou  inheritest  thy  father’s  for¬ 
 tune  without  inheriting  thy  father’s  virtues, 
 or  that  the  interests  of  society  have  suffered 
 because  his  place  is  supplied  by  thee.  Was 
 he  cut  off  in  the  midst  of  his  usefulness, 
 while  engaged  in  some  work  of  beneficence, 
 and  before  he  had  time  to  accomplish  it  ? 
 and  dost  thou  not  feel  thyself  powerfully 
 called  on  to  prosecute  the  generous  design  ? 
 While  thou  art  acting  in  his  place,  and  fi¬ 
 nishing  his  labour  of  love,  v  dost  thou  not 
 imagine  that  he  sees  thee  still,  and  rejoices 
 in  the  fulfilment  of  his  wishes  ?  ■  i 
 
 IV.  By 
 
SERMON  XVIII. 
 
 315 
 
 IV.  By  recalling  the  memory  of  our  fa¬ 
 thers,  we  become  reconciled  to  our  own  de¬ 
 parture. 
 
 Look  back,  my  friends,  on  the  ages  that 
 are  past,  and  learn,  from  the  fate  of  those 
 who  have  gone  before  you,  that  death  is 
 the  debt  of  natui*e,  which  all  are  ordained 
 to  pay,  Our  fathers^  where  are  they,  and 
 the  prophets,  do  they  live  for  ever?  The 
 wise,  the  great,  and  the  good,  who  flourish¬ 
 ed  in  former  generations,  have  they  not 
 been  destined  to  mingle  in  the  dust  with 
 the  common  mass  of  mankind  ?  Even  vir¬ 
 tue  could  not  deliver  them  from  death  j  and 
 shall  we  be  so  unreasonable  as  to  desire,  that 
 in  behalf  of  ourselves  alone,  the  decree  of 
 heaven  should  be  reversed  ?  Let  us  rather 
 summon  up  our  fortitude,  and,  viewing 
 ourselves  as  mortal  beings,  let  us  seek  a 
 hope  that  may  support  us  when  the  day  of 
 our  dissolution  shall  arrive. 
 
 Tour  fathei'S,  where  are  they  ?  How  often, 
 amidst  your  grief  for  their  departure,  have 
 you  revolved  this  question  in  your  minds, 
 while  your  affection  still  continued  to  fol¬ 
 low  them,  and  laboured  to  burst  the  veil 
 which  was  now  to  hide  them  from  your 
 
 view  ! 
 
31^ 
 
 SERMON  XViri. 
 
 view  !  Tour  fathers^  where  are  they  ?  Do 
 they  sleep  for  ever  in  the  dust^  never  again 
 to  be  awakened  into  being,  or  acknowdedgr- 
 ed  by  the  God  whom  they  have  served  ?  Is 
 this  the  end  of  all  their  virtuous  labours  ? 
 You  recollect  their  generous  deeds,  often  ill 
 received — often  Wantonly  opposed — often 
 misrepresented  by  the  world.  You  recol¬ 
 lect  their  patience  under  afflictions  founded 
 on  the  hope  of  heaven, — you  recollect  their 
 love  of  God,  and  the  ardent  desire  which 
 'they  discovered  to  know  and  to  serx^e  him 
 better, — you  beheld  their  piety  and  virtue, 
 improving  day  by  day,  and  acquiring  new 
 strength  and  vigour  till  the  very  hour  of 
 their  departure.  And  was  it  at  such  a  sea¬ 
 son  as  this  that  they  were  consigned  to 
 linal  annihilation,  as  an  useless  incumbrance 
 in  the  xvorld  ?  Did  nature  inspire  them 
 xvith  the  hope  of  immortality,  only  that  it 
 might  at  last  be  disappointed  ^  Did  their 
 Creator  form  them  to  know  and  to  love 
 himself,  only  that  he  might  banish  them 
 from  his  presence  ?  He  who  bore  with 
 their  weakness,  in  their  first  endeavours  to 
 serx^e  him,  hath  he  rejected  their  better  of¬ 
 ferings,  and  crushed  for  ever  their  generous 
 
 ambition 
 
SERMON  XVlIl. 
 
 3  17 
 
 afiibition,  while  they  were  rising  to  that 
 perfection  after  which  he  had  taught  them 
 to  aspire  ?  Having  fostered  the  plant  of 
 virtue  till  it  put  forth  its  leaves  and  its 
 flowers,  did  he  cut  it  down  as  a  worthless 
 tfunk  when  its  fruit  was  just  beginning  to 
 ripen  ?  No.  It  cannot  be  that  the  righteous 
 are  abandoned  to  destruction — They  are 
 only  translated  to  a  higher  scene,  where 
 every  pious  affection  shall  enjoy  its  proper 
 exercise,  and  every  virtuous  exertion  re¬ 
 ceive  its  full  reward.  Let  this  considera¬ 
 tion  serve  to  animate  you ,  in  the  path  of 
 duty,  and  to  support  you  in  the  last  hour 
 of  life,.  You  must  indeed  retire  from  the 
 world,  and  be  torn  from  the  society  of 
 those  who  at  present  are  dearest  to  your 
 souls.  But  you  go  to  other  friends.  The 
 region  beyond  the  grave  is  not  a  solitary 
 land.  There  your  fathers  are,  and  thither 
 every  other  friend  shall  follow  you  in  due 
 season.  Ther^efore  let  yoit^r  hearts  be  glad^  let 
 your  glory  rejoice^  let  your  bodies  also  rest  in 
 hope.  God  will  shew  you,  the  path  of  life.  In 
 his  pi'esence  there  is  fulness  of  joy,, — at  his 
 right  hand  there  are  pleasures  for  evermore. 
 
 We 
 
SERMON  XVIII. 
 
 We  are  still,  however,  in  the  world;  and 
 the  train  of  thought  which  hath  been  sug¬ 
 gested  by  the  passage  now  before  us,  is^dt- 
 ted  to  rouse  us  to  diligence  in  the  discharge 
 of  the  duties  that  are  here  assigned  to  us. 
 It  leads  us  to  view  ourselves  as  placed  in 
 the  stations  from  which  our  fathers  have 
 lately  retired  ;  and  which  we,  in  our  turn, 
 must  resign  to  a  race  who,  are  rising  to 
 supplant  us.  It  reminds  us  of  the  regard 
 which  we  owe  to  the  succeeding  genera¬ 
 tion,  and  of  the  provision  which  it  becomes 
 us  to  make  for  the  happiness  of  human 
 society,  after  we  shall  be  removed  from 
 the  scene.  In  this  view,  what  duty  can  be 
 more  important,  than  to  take  the  young 
 under  our  protection  and  patronage  ;  to 
 furnish  them  with  the  means  of  instruc¬ 
 tion,  and  to  train  them  to  such  habits 
 and  accomplishments  as  may  enable  them 
 to  supply  our  place  with  honour,  when  we 
 shall  be  gathered  to  our  fathers  ?  By  such 
 offices  as  these,  we  extend  the  sphere  of 
 our  usefulness  beyond  the  limits  of  this 
 passing  life,  and  bequeath  a  legacy  to  the 
 world  more  precious  than  silver  or  gold. 
 
 Such 
 
SERMON  XVIII. 
 
 319 
 
 Such  were  the  benevolent  views  which 
 led  to  the  institution  of  that  respectable  So¬ 
 ciety,  at  whose  request  I  now  address  you — > 
 ‘  The  Society  for  the  Benefit  of  the  Sons  of 
 ‘  the  Clergy  of  the  Established  Church  of 
 ‘  Scotland.’  This  institution  hath  already 
 met  with  much  encouragement  from  the  libe¬ 
 rality  of  a  generous  public,  and  the  munifi¬ 
 cence  of  our  gracious  Sovereign,  whose  vir¬ 
 tues  so  justly  entitle  him  to  the  character  of 
 the  father  of  his  people  ;  who  watches,  with 
 a  paternal  eye,  over  the  interests  of  all  his 
 subjects,  and  whose  peculiar  delight  it  is  to 
 aid  them  in  every  scheme  of  beneficence. 
 
 By  means  of  this  encouragement  and 
 support,  the  funds  of  the  Society  have  been 
 augmented,  in  the  course  of  a  few  years, 
 even  beyond  the  expectation  of  those  by 
 whom  it  was  originally  formed  ;  and  the 
 managers  have  the  satisfaction  to  find,  that 
 the  usefulness  of  this  institution  hath  been 
 gradually  increasing,  by  the  annual  additions 
 which  have  been  made  to  the  number  of 
 those  to  whom  they  have  been  enabled  to 
 afford  assistance  and  protection.  Still,  how¬ 
 ever,  their  funds  are  far  from  being  suf¬ 
 ficient  to  answer  all  the  demands  that  are 
 
 made 
 
SERMON  XVIII. 
 
 mo 
 
 made  upon  them,  or  to  embrace  all  the  ob¬ 
 jects  of  the  institution,  which  is  intended, 
 as  soon  as  circumstances  will  permit,  to 
 communicate  relief  to  the  daughters  as  well 
 as  to  the  sons  of  the  clergy. 
 
 As  matters  stand  at  present,  the  Society 
 are  firmly  convinced,  that  they  are  dis¬ 
 charging  the  trust  committed  to  them  in 
 the  manner  which  is  most  likely  to  be  be¬ 
 neficial  to  a  clergyman’s  family,  while  they 
 employ  their  limited  revenue  in  enabling 
 him  to  educate  his  sons,  and  to  bring  them 
 forward  to  stations  in  which  they  may  be¬ 
 come  the  protectors  of  their  father’s  house. 
 While  they  thus  endeavour,  by  judicious 
 management,  to  apply  the  funds  with  which 
 they  are  intrusted,  in  the  way  that  pro¬ 
 mises  to  be  most  extensively  useful,  they 
 indulge  the  pleasing  hope,  that,  by  the 
 continuing  favour  of  the  public,  the  reve¬ 
 nue  of  this  benevolent  institution  will  be 
 gradually  improved  ^  and  that,  in  process 
 of  time,  it  may  rise  to  such  a  situation  as 
 to  afford  to  the  families  of  clergymen  all 
 those  important  advantages  which  it  is  in¬ 
 tended  to  convey. 
 
 •/ 
 
 And, 
 
SERMON  XVIII. 
 
 39A 
 
 And,  surely,  they  have  some  ground  to 
 trust  that  their  hopes  will  not  be  disap^ 
 pointed  : — for  who,  my  friends,  are  the 
 youth  in  behalf  of  whom  they  solicit  your 
 aid  ?  I'hey  are  the  children  of  an  order  of 
 men,  whose  lives  are  devoted  to  the  public 
 service ;  who,  dispersed  through  the  dif^ 
 ferent  districts  of  our  land,  labour,  by  their 
 instructions  and  their  example,  to  cherish 
 in  the  minds  of  our  people  those  sentiments 
 of  religion  and  morality,  on  which,  more 
 than  on  any  other  cause,  the  happiness  of 
 society  depends ;  whose  peculiar  office  it  is 
 to  unfold  to  you  those  treasures  of  wisdom 
 which  the  sacred  scriptures  contain — to 
 warn  you  of  the  temptations  v/hich  sur¬ 
 round  you — to  guide  you  in  the  path  of 
 duty — to  solace  you  in  the  hour  of  sor¬ 
 row — and  to  cheer  you  in  the  vale  of 
 death.  If,  then,  it  can  be  said  with  truth 
 (as  we  trust  it  can),  that  they  discharge 
 their  duty  with  fidelity,  you  will  admit  that, 
 by  offices  so  benevolent  as  these,  they  ac¬ 
 quire  a  claim  to  your  regard ;  and  you  will 
 rejoice  to  aid  them  in  a  work  to  which 
 their  own  limited  resources  are  often 
 found  to  be  unequal a  work  to  them- 
 
 X  selves 
 
322 
 
 SERMON  XVIII. 
 
 selves  and  their  families  by  far  the  most 
 interesting  of  all  their  worldly  concerns— 
 the  education  and  advancement  of  those 
 who  are  destined  to  preserve  their  memory 
 on  the  earth.  There  may  be  many  in  this 
 assembly  who  have  known,  from  their  own 
 experience,  what  those  inconveniencies  are 
 which  this  institution  is  intended  to  allevi¬ 
 ate  ;  and,  while  I  state  what  must  often 
 happen,  I  shall  only,  perhaps,  be  recalling 
 to  the  recollection  of  some  clergyman’s  son, 
 the  scenes  which  his  eyes  have  seen.  You 
 remember  the  time  when  the  death  of  an 
 affectionate  parent  deprived  a  helpless  fa¬ 
 mily  of  what  had  hitherto  been  their  chief 
 support.  When  you  laid  his  head  in  the 
 grave,  how  dark  was  the  prospect  before 
 you  !  At  an  age  when,  perhaps,  you  need¬ 
 ed  the  most  a  father’s  instruction  and  coun¬ 
 sel,  you  saw  committed  to  your  charge  a 
 widow  and  orphan  children,  whose  father 
 you  was  henceforth  to  be.  Did  you  take 
 them  under  your  protecting  care  ?  Did  you 
 cheerfully  divide  with  them  the  little  which 
 you  had,  or  which  your  industry  enabled 
 you  to  earn,  that  you  might  minister  to 
 their  subsistence  and  comfort — that  you 
 
 might 
 
SERMON  XVIII. 
 
 323 
 
 might  furnish  them  with  the  means  of 
 education,  and  help  them  forward  to  sta¬ 
 tions  in  which  they  might  provide  for  their 
 own  necessities  ?  These  were  generous  deeds. 
 They  possess  an  intrinsic  excellence,  alto¬ 
 gether  independent  on  the  success  with 
 which  they  may  have  happened  to  be  at¬ 
 tended.  The  recollection  of  them  will  af¬ 
 ford  you  consolation  in  the  darkest  hour  of 
 adversity,  and  enable  you,  in  the  day  of 
 your  departure,  to  commend  your  own  fa¬ 
 mily,  with  more  assurance  of  heart,  to  that 
 God  who  is  the  Father  of  the  fatherless. 
 
 If  your  exertions  have  happily  been  suc¬ 
 cessful — if  the  family  whom  you  have  thus 
 protected  and  cherished,  have  risen  to  re¬ 
 spectability  in  the  world, — with  what  pure 
 delight  do  you  contemplate  the  talents  and 
 the  virtues  of  those  whom  your  affectionate 
 cares  have  reared  to  be  your  companions, 
 your  ornament,  and  your  comfort,  during 
 all  the  varieties  of  this  changeful  life ! 
 Such  are  the  hardships  with  which  the 
 children  of  that  order  of  men,  for  whom 
 we  now  plead,  are  sometimes  destined  to 
 struggle-such  are  the  benevolent  offices  to 
 which  we  invite  you  to  contribute — and 
 
 X  2  such 
 
324 
 
 SERMON  XVIIL 
 
 such  the  deliglitful  recompense  which  a-> 
 waits  the  labours  of  love. 
 
 I  could  wish,  did  my  age  and  experience 
 entitle  me,  to  state  more  strongly  than  1 
 have  done,  the  claims  of  an  order  of  men, 
 from  whose  labours  the  public  derive  the 
 most  important  advantages.  But,  on  this 
 subject,  it  will  better  become  me  to  refer 
 you  to  what  was  so  forcibly  stated  on  the 
 last  occasion  of  this  kind,  by  a  respectable 
 father  ^  of  the  church,  from  whom  the 
 oldest  amongst  us  need  not  be  ashamed  to 
 learn.  It  was  a  task  more  suited  to  me, 
 who  have  but  lately  entered  on  a  station 
 which  he  hath  long  filled  with  honour,  to 
 recal  to  my  own  recollection,  and  to  that 
 of  my  younger  brethren,  the  memory  of 
 the  worthy  and  the  good,  who  have  gone 
 before  us,in  the  path  of  life,  and  to  derive 
 from  their  example  the  instructions  which 
 it  is  fitted  to  convey. 
 
 There 
 
 *  The  Rev.  Dr  Hugh  Blair,  one  of  the  ministers  of  tlie 
 High  Church  in  the  city  of  Edinburgh,  the  well  known 
 author  of  five  volumes  of  Sermons,  which  are  univcrsallj* 
 admired,  and  have  been  translated  into  almost  all  the  lan¬ 
 guages  of  Europe. 
 
SERMON  XVIIL  SG5 
 
 There  are  many  of  our  fathers  still  alive 
 ^vho  enjoy,  in  a  happy  and  respected  old 
 age,  the  well  earned  recompense  of  virtue. 
 May  God  preserve  them  long  to  shine  as 
 lights  in  the  world  !  Let  us  venerate  their 
 characters,  and  imitate  their  conduct.  Let 
 us  study,  like  them,  to  distinguish  ourselves 
 by  the  faithful  and  conscientious  discharge 
 of  the  duties  that  belong  to  our  station ; 
 — let  us  devote  ourselves  to  every  useful 
 pursuit  by  which  we  can  hope,  like  them, 
 to  adorn  our  sacred  profession,  and  strive 
 (it  is  a  generous  ambition)  to  shew  ourselves 
 worthy  of  the  honours  with  which  their 
 exertions  have  been  crowned. 
 
 In  several  respects,  my  reverend  bre¬ 
 thren,  our  situation  is  extremely  different 
 from  that  in  which  our  fathers  were  placed. 
 They  were  sometimes  called,  indeed,  to 
 vindicate  our  holy  religion  from  the  objec¬ 
 tions  and  aspersions  of  its  enemies ;  and 
 the  works  on  this  important  subject,  which 
 many  of  them  have  left  behind  them,  still 
 continue  to  minister  to  the  instruction  and 
 consolation  of  those  who  seek  the  truth  in 
 the  love  o  f  it, 
 
 X  3 
 
 But 
 
326 
 
 SERMON  XVIIL 
 
 But  infidelity  in  their  days  was  confined 
 almost  entirely  to  the  writings  of  a  few  re¬ 
 tired  and  speculative  men,  whos'e  reason¬ 
 ings  were  far  removed  above  the  reach  of 
 ordinary  minds,  and  by  whom  the  great 
 body  of  the  people  were  in  little  danger  of 
 being  seduced.  The  contests  which  our 
 fathers  were  called  to  maintain,  were  chiefly 
 with  Christians  themselves,  with  those  va¬ 
 rious  and  discordant  sects,  who,  while  they 
 acknowledged  the  sacred  scriptures  as  the 
 common  standards  of  faith,  had  deviated, 
 in  some  respects,  from  the  purity  of  that 
 doctrine  and  worship  which  the  sacred 
 scriptures  prescribe.  It  did  not  enter  into 
 their  imaginations,  to  conceive  that  the  pe¬ 
 riod  was  ever  to  arrive,  when,  in  the  very 
 heart  of  Christendom  itself,  among  a  nu¬ 
 merous  and  powerful  people,  Christianity 
 was  to  be  openly  renounced  :  that  infide¬ 
 lity  was  so  soon  to  appear  in  the  shape  of 
 an  armed  force,  and  to  boast  of  its  victories 
 and  its  triumphs.  It  did  not  enter  into 
 their  imaginations,  to  conceive  that  the 
 time  was  ever  to  arrive,  when  the  doctrines 
 of  natural,  as  well  as  of  revealed  religion, 
 were  to.be  generally  brought  into  dispute ; 
 
 when 
 
SERMON  XVIII. 
 
 327 
 
 when  the  wildest  systems  of  scepticism  that 
 ever  were  proposed  to  the  world,  divested 
 of  those  artificial  colourings  by  which  they 
 were  wont  to  be  disguised,  were  to  assume 
 the  form  of  familiar  instructions,  adapted 
 to  every  capacity,  to  solicit  the  assent  alike 
 of  men  of  every  rank,  and  to  spread  their 
 direful  contagion  among  all  orders  of  the 
 people.  Yet  these,  my  brethren,  are  the 
 circumstances  in  which  we  are  called  to 
 act  :  and  I  need  not  surely  remind  you 
 what  additional  motives  they  present  to 
 rouse  and  to  animate  our  exertions  in  re¬ 
 sisting  the  progress  of  that  corruption,  from 
 which  the  most  direful  disorders  may  arise. 
 
 As  members  of  society,  too,  our  situation 
 is  extremely  different  from  that  in  which 
 our  fathers  were  placed.  They  were  some¬ 
 times  called,  indeed,  to  witness  the  strug¬ 
 gles  of  faction,  and  to  see  parties  rise  and 
 fall :  and  in  those  contests  for  pre-eminence 
 and  power,  which  occasionally  divided  their 
 people,  they  wisely  declined  to  take  a  part 
 satisfying  themselves  with  the  humble  task 
 
 X  4  of 
 
 *  This  observation  relates  to  the  state  of  society  in  Great 
 Britain,  for  a  period  of  about  fifty  years ;  but  there  are  some 
 
 of 
 
3128 
 
 SERMON  XVm. 
 
 of  exhibiting  a  pattern  of  moderation,  wor¬ 
 thy  of  the  imitation  of  all.  But  it  did  not 
 even  enter  into  their  thoughts,  that  the  time 
 was  ever  to  arrive,  when  our  happy  constitu¬ 
 tion  itself,  the  work  of  the  wisdom  of  ages, 
 the  boast  and  the  glory  of  Britons,  the 
 wonder  and  the  envy  of  the  world,  was  to 
 be  despised  and  vilified  by  those  whom  it 
 had  so  long  protected  and  blessed ;  or  that 
 wild  democracy  was  ever  to  rear  its  head 
 within  the  shores  of  their  native  isle.  Yet 
 we  have  lived  to  see  our  government  tra¬ 
 duced  as  a  system  of  oppression  and  tyran¬ 
 ny,  and  to  lament  the  success  which  at¬ 
 tended  the  insidious  arts  of  those  who  en¬ 
 deavoured  to  seduce  our  people  from  their 
 attachment  to  that  order  of  things  which 
 our  fathers  taught  us  to  revere.  This  was 
 a  contest  in  which  we  could  not  remain 
 inactive ;  for  on  the  issue  of  it  depended 
 the  preservation  of  all  that  is  dear  to  a  vir¬ 
 tuous  mind ;  and  we  felt  that  we  were  only 
 
 acting 
 
 of  our  fathers  old  enough  to  recollect  the  zeal  with  which 
 tlie  clergy  of  Scotland  exerted  themselves,  when  the  situ¬ 
 ation  of  public  affairs,  in  the  year  1745,  called  for  an  active 
 display  of  their  loyalty  and  public  spirit. 
 
SERMON  XVIIL 
 
 329 
 
 acting  as  it  became  us,  while  we  laboured 
 to  inspire  the  people  under  our  care  with 
 gratitude  to  the  great  Disposer  of  all  things, 
 for  the  privileges  which  they  have  so  long 
 enjoyed,  and  warned  them  that  those  men, 
 whatever  name  they  may  assume,  are,  in 
 truth,  their  deadliest  foes,  who  would  tempt 
 them  to  exchange  the  tried  advantages  of 
 their  condition  for  any  of  those  visionary 
 schemes  which  have  hitherto  produced  no 
 other  fruits,  but  disorder,  and  confusion, 
 and  misery.  While  we  continue  in  this 
 manner  to  discharge  our  duty  to  the  pub¬ 
 lic,  we  may  sometimes  be  called  to  encoun¬ 
 ter  the  reproach  of  the  wicked.  The  ene¬ 
 mies  of  order  and  peace  will  ascribe  to 
 priestcraft  those  generous  exertions  which  ^ 
 proceed  from  our  love  to  our  brethren : 
 they  will  represent  us  as  a  class  of  men  who 
 defend  the  government  under  which  we 
 live,  merely  because  we  wish  to  maintain 
 the  station  which  at  present  we  hold  in  so¬ 
 ciety,  or  because  we  dread  the  personal  loss 
 which  we  ourselves  might  suffer  from  a 
 change.  In  reply  to  these  malicious  insi¬ 
 nuations,  we  are  not  ashamed  to  admit  that 
 we  wish  to  defend  our  stations,  for  we 
 
 pledged 
 
330 
 
 SERMON  XVIII. 
 
 pledged  ourselves,  at  our  entrance  on  our 
 office,  that,  to  the  utmost  of  our  power,  we 
 would  maintain  them  whatever  troubles  or 
 'persecutions  might  arise.  We  will  acknow¬ 
 ledge,  too,  with  gratitude  to  our  country, 
 the  provision  which  is  made  for  our  sup¬ 
 port.  If,  however,  by  the  loss  which  we 
 are  likely  to  sustain,  such  persons  are  to  be 
 understood  to  mean  the  loss  of  mere  world¬ 
 ly  fortune,  there  are  few  orders  of  men  in 
 this  flourishing  country  who,  in  this  respect, 
 have  less  to  lose,  even  if  the  worst  should 
 happen.  But  there  is  a  loss  of  a  different 
 kind,  against  which  we  are  far  more  anxious 
 to  secure  ourselves  and  our  brethren ; — a 
 loss  more  dreadful  to  the  virtuous,  than  the 
 loss  of  all  that  the  world  can  bestow  ;^a 
 loss  which  the  rich  and  the  poor  would  be 
 equally  doomed  to  suffer  were  the  enemies 
 of  order  to  prevail ; — the  loss  of  public 
 peace — the  loss  of  private  security — the  loss 
 of  mutual  confidence — the  loss  of  all  the 
 comforts  which  society  is  fitted  to  afford. 
 To  witness,  among  our  people  whom  we 
 love,  such  scenes  of  confusion  and  misery 
 as  have  been  exhibited  in  a  neighbouring 
 land — to  see  every  sacred  institution  pro¬ 
 faned 
 
SERMON  XVIII. 
 
 331 
 
 faned — to  see  all  lawful  authority  abolished 
 — to  see  vice  triumphant,  and  virtue  tram¬ 
 pled  under  foot— to  see  brethren  and  fellow- 
 citizens  living  in  perpetual  warfare,  invad¬ 
 ing  each  others  rights,  disturbing  each  o- 
 thers  happiness,  or  imbruing  themselves  in 
 each  others  blood ; — these,  my  brethren, 
 are  the  evils  which  you  beseech  the  Al¬ 
 mighty  to  avert ; — evils,  in  comparison  of 
 •  which  the  loss  of  a  little  less,  or  a  little  more 
 of  worldly  fortune,  deserves  not  even  to  be 
 named;  and  from  which,  by  your  instruc¬ 
 tions,  by  your  example,  by  every  exertion 
 in  your  power,  you  have  laboured  to  save 
 your  country.  In  doing  so,  you  have -done 
 your  duty  as  men,  as  citizens,  and  as  Chris¬ 
 tians  ;  and  you  will  still  continue  to  dis¬ 
 charge  it.  While  you  endeavour  to  guide 
 your  people  in  those  paths  of  piety  and 
 virtue  which  lead  to  immortal  bliss ;  in 
 compliance  with  the  apostle’s  admonition, 
 you  will  also  frequently  exhort  them,  to  be 
 subject  to  principalities  and  powers,  to  obey 
 magistrateSi  and  to  be  ready  to  every  good 
 work.  Those  among  them  who  walk  dis¬ 
 orderly,  you  will  command  and  beseech,  by 
 the  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  that  in  (j^uietness  they 
 
 do 
 
SERMON  XVIIL 
 
 S'32 
 
 do  their  own  work,  and  eat  their  own  bread. 
 You  will  enforce  the  duties  of  contentment, 
 and  meekness,  and  submission  to  lawful  au¬ 
 thority,  as  an  essential  branch  of  that  obe¬ 
 dience  which  they  owe  to  their  Saviour 
 and  their  God ;  nor  will  you  fear  the  cen¬ 
 sure  of  the  wicked,  while  you  warn  them 
 on  an  authority  which  admits  of  no  dis¬ 
 pute,  that  they  must  needs  be  subject,  not 
 only  for  wrath,  but  also  for  conscience  sake. 
 Thus  shall  you  contribute  your  share  to 
 preserve  and  to  transmit  to  posterity  the 
 inheritance  which  you  received  from  your 
 fathers,  and  prove  yourselves  the  disciples 
 of  a  Master  whose  name  is  the  Prince  of 
 Peace.  And  may  that  God,  in  whose  hands 
 are  the  hearts  of  men,  crown  your  exer¬ 
 tions  with  success ! 
 
 ON 
 
ON  THE  DUTY  OF  RESTRAINING 
 THE  YOUNG. 
 
 SERMON  XIX. 
 
 LAMENTATIONS,  III.  27- 
 
 / 
 
 It  is  good  for  a  man  that  he  hear  the  yoke  in 
 
 his  youth. 
 
 To  bear  the  yoke  is  a  metaphorical  ex- 
 pTession  that  may  admit  of  two  interpre¬ 
 tations.  It  may  relate  either  to  that  re¬ 
 straint  and  discipline  under  which  we  pass 
 our  early  years,  or  to  those  disappointments 
 and  afflictions  which,  even  in  that  period 
 of  life,  we  are  sometimes  called  to  endure. 
 It  is  in  the  former  of  these  senses  that  I 
 shall  consider  the  expression  in  the  follow¬ 
 ing  discourse,  in  which  I  shall  endeavour, 
 through  the  divine  assistance,  to  illustrate 
 the  doctrine  in  the  text,  by  setting  before 
 
 you 
 
334 
 
 SERMON  XIX. 
 
 you  the  advantages  that  arise  to  the  young, 
 from  the  restraints  which  their  parents  and 
 guardians  impose  on  them. 
 
 I  must  begin,  however,  with  observing, 
 that  the  restraints  of  which  I  speak  at  pre¬ 
 sent,  are  only  those  wise  and  necessary  re¬ 
 straints,  which  serve  to  guard  the  inno¬ 
 cence,  and  to  direct  the  activity,  of  the 
 early  mind ;  for  I  am  far  from  wishing  to 
 recommend  that  harsh  and  rigorous  disci¬ 
 pline,  by  which  every  generous  principle  is 
 extinguished.  There  are  even  parents  to  be 
 found,  who  are  incapable  of  making  any 
 allowance  for  the  natural  levity  of  youth  ; 
 who  withhold  from  their  children  every  in¬ 
 nocent  amusement  and  pleasure,  and  check 
 their  most  trivial  faults  with  a  severity  of 
 manner  which  is  more  likely  to  provoke 
 than  to  amend.  From  whatever  cause  such 
 conduct  proceeds,  whether  from  natural 
 harshness  of  temper,  or  from  some  mis¬ 
 taken  principle  of  duty,  it  is  productive  of 
 the  very  worst  effects.  It  damps  the  spirit 
 of  the  child  ;  alienates  his  heart  from  his 
 parent ;  and  either  leads  to  a  total  con¬ 
 tempt  of  authority,  or  forms  a  feeble,  unde¬ 
 cided  character,  from  which  nothing  that 
 
SERMON  XIX. 
 
 335 
 
 is  great  or  manly  can  be  expected  to  pro¬ 
 ceed.  The  mind,  repressed  too  severely  in 
 its  first  exertions,  ceases,  by  degrees,  to  ex¬ 
 ert  itself.  It  sinks  into  weakness  and  irre¬ 
 solution,  and  remains  enslaved  through  the 
 whole  of  life,  following,  with  implicit  as¬ 
 sent,  the  rules  which  are  dictated  to  it  by 
 others,  even  in  cases  in  which  it  is  most 
 material  that  its  own  judgment  should  be 
 exercised. 
 
 It  may  sometimes,  indeed,  be  necessary 
 to  subject  the  young  to  restraints,  the  pro¬ 
 priety  of  which  they  may  not  be  able  fully 
 to  perceive  ;  and,  in  such  cases,  it  becomes 
 them  to  confide  in  the  wisdom  and  expe¬ 
 rience  of  those  \vho  have  gone  before  them 
 in  the  world.  As  far,  however,  as  they  are 
 capable  of  understanding  it,  it  is  proper  to 
 set  before  them  the  end  of  the  discipline 
 which  we  prescribe ;  to  accustom  them  to 
 judge  of  their  conduct  by  the  suggestions 
 of  reason  and  conscience ;  and  to  bring 
 them,  as  early  as  possible,  under  the  go¬ 
 vernment  of  those  sacred  principles,  which 
 are  to  be  their  guides  through  the  rest  of 
 life. 
 
 Even 
 
536 
 
 SERMON  XIX. 
 
 Even  a  child  soon  learns  to  distinguish 
 the  restraints  that  are  dictated  by  a  sincere 
 regard  to  his  happiness,  from  those  which 
 have  their  origin  in  caprice.  To  the  former, 
 indeed,  he  may  not,  at  all  times,  submit 
 with  becoming  cheerfulness ;  but  against 
 the  latter  he  will  perpetually  rebel.  He 
 loses,  by  degrees,  all  sense  of  moral  dis¬ 
 tinctions,  when  he  perceives,  that  every  le¬ 
 vity  in  his  behaviour  is  checked,  with  a  se¬ 
 verity  and  harshness  which  ought  to  be  re¬ 
 served  as  the  punishment  of  vice  ;  and  he 
 makes  a  discovery  most  ruinous  to  his  vir¬ 
 tue,  when  he  observes,  that  the  treatment 
 which  he  receives,  depends  less  on  his  own 
 conduct,  than  on  the  varying  humour  of 
 his  parents ;  a  discovery  which  begets  in 
 him  a  contempt  for  those  whom  he  should 
 be  taught  to  honour ;  which  leads  him  to 
 practise  on  their  weakness,  and  to  seek  the 
 attainment  of  his  ends  by  all  the  base  arts 
 of  flattery  and  dissimulation. 
 
 One  of  the  worst  effects  which  excessive 
 severity  produces  on  the  minds  of  the  young, 
 is,  that  it  tempts  them  to  the  violation  of 
 truth ;  and  hence  it  sometimes  happens, 
 that  parents  are  less  acquainted,  than  even 
 
SERMON  XIX. 
 
 337 
 
 the  most  indifferent  persons,  with  what 
 passes  in  the  minds  of  their  children. 
 
 Beware^  my  friends,  of  this  fatal  error  : 
 Provoke  not  your  children  to  wrath  ;  tempt 
 not  your  children  to  falsehood.  With¬ 
 out  an  accurate  knowledge  of  their  charac¬ 
 ters,  you  cannot  accommodate  your  disci¬ 
 pline  to  their  various  inclinations  and  tem¬ 
 pers  ;  nor  can  you  ever  acquire  this  know¬ 
 ledge  of  their  characters,  unless  you  accus¬ 
 tom  them  to  approach  you  without  reserve. 
 You  are  their  natural  counsellors.  In  your 
 presence  they  delight  to  indulge  the  play¬ 
 fulness  of  their  fancies,  and  to  open  their 
 careless  hearts.  Let  this  propensity  be  en¬ 
 couraged.  It  is  harshness  that  forces  them 
 to  dissemble ;  to  hide  their  souls  from  you, 
 and  to  seek  for  other  confidents,  on  whose 
 integrity  you  cannot  rely* 
 
 I  am  aware,  however,  that  this  is  not  the 
 extreme  in  which  parents  are  most  apt  to 
 err.  Their  natural  affection  for  their  chil¬ 
 dren  will  generally  be  sufficient,  without  any 
 other  motive,  to  preserve  them  from  too  ri¬ 
 gorous  an  exercise  of  authority.  The  danger 
 is,  that  this  affection  may  transgress  its  pro¬ 
 per  bounds,  and  betray  them  into  an  opposite 
 
 Y  error. 
 
338 
 
 SERMON  XIX. 
 
 error,  not  less  fatal  to  the  interests  of  then’ 
 children.  It  is  surely  necessary  that  the 
 young  be  restrained  from  every  species  of 
 vice,  and  directed  to  such  pursuits  and  stu¬ 
 dies  as  may  prepare  them  for  being  useful 
 in  the  world.  For  this  purpose,  they  must 
 be  early  taught,  that  they  have  serious  du¬ 
 ties  to  perform  ;  they  must  be  accustomed 
 to  submit  to  discipline,  and  limited,  even 
 in  those  innocent  pleasures,  which  would 
 interfere  with  their  more  important  con¬ 
 cerns.  In  these  instances,  the  wisdom  of 
 the  old  must  be  employed  for  the  benefit 
 of  the  young ;  the  parent  must  prescribe 
 the  law,  and  the  child  must  be  habituated 
 to  obedience.  It  is  difficult,  indeed,  to 
 draw  the  line  between  the  extreme  of  se¬ 
 verity  on  the  one  hand,  and  the  extreme  of 
 indulgence  on  the  other ;  nor  can  any  pre¬ 
 cise  rule  be  given,  that  will  apply- to  every 
 particular  case.  Permit  me  only  to  suggest 
 two  plain  directions,  which,  I  trust,  may  be 
 of  general  use.  Let  the  rules,  which  you 
 prescribe,  be  such  as  are  proper  in  them¬ 
 selves  ;  and  let  them  be  uniformly  and 
 steadily  executed.  If  you  impose  on  them 
 unnecessary  restraints,  or  such  as  are  too 
 
 rigid 
 
SERMON  XIX* 
 
 389 
 
 rigid  for  the  natural  weakness  of  youth, 
 you  will  find  it  impossible  to  enforce  them. 
 Your  own  hearts  will  occasionally  relent, 
 and  lead  you  to  compensate  for  excessive 
 severity  at  one  time,  by  excessive  indul¬ 
 gence  at  another  : — thus  uniting  in  your 
 conduct  the  disadvantages  of  both  the  ex¬ 
 tremes,  against  which  I  have  been  endea¬ 
 vouring  to  guard  you.  But  if  your  rules 
 be  dictated  by  wisdom  and  tenderness,  you 
 will  find  it  an  easier  task  to  secure  the  ob¬ 
 servance  of  them. 
 
 % 
 
 Nor  can  obedience  be  too  strictly  re¬ 
 quired.  It  is,  indeed,  to  be  expected,  from 
 the  thoughtlessness  and  levity  of  youth, 
 that  even  the  most  salutary  restraints  will 
 be  occasionally  transgressed.  In  such  cases, 
 if  compunction  arise,  it  is  a  promising 
 symptom,  which  it  becomes  you  to  cherish 
 and  encourage.  But  obstinacy  of  temper 
 must  be  subdued  ;  for  all  useful  discipline 
 is  at  an  end  the  moment  that  the  child 
 prevails  in  resisting  the  authority  of  his 
 parent.  Steadiness,  and  consistency  of  con¬ 
 duct,  is  the  great  secret  in  the  management 
 of  the  young.  It  begets  respect  and  reve¬ 
 rence,  and  ensures  a  willing  obedience. 
 
 Y  2  When 
 
340 
 
 SERMON  XIX. 
 
 When  the  duty  of  the  child  is  clearly  mark¬ 
 ed  out  to  him,  and  the  performance  of  it 
 regularly  exacted,  he  is,  in  no  case,  at  a  loss 
 to  discover  what  will  please,  and  what  will 
 offend.  In  proportion  as  his  faculties  open, 
 he  perceives  the  propriety  of  the  discipline 
 through  which  he  is  made  to  pass.  He  ad¬ 
 mires  the  wisdom  and  consistency  of  the 
 plan  by  which  his  most  important  interests 
 are  promoted.  He  finds,  that  the  authori¬ 
 ty,  which,  in  his  youth,  he  hath  been  taught 
 to  acknowledge,  is  the  mild  and  regular 
 dominion  of  reason;  and  is  prepared,  as  his 
 years  advance,  to  exchange  the  dominion 
 of  reason  in  the  breast  of  his  parent,  for 
 the  dominion  of  reason  in  his  own  mind. 
 
 IT.  This  leads  me  to  consider,  in  the 
 second  place,  some  of  the  advantages  which 
 this  discipline  is  fitted  to  yield. 
 
 And,  on  this  subject,  my  friends,  it  is 
 surely  unnecessary  to  enlarge.  Your  own 
 experience  will  supply  you  with  the  most 
 satisfying  evidence  of  the  doctrine  which 
 the  text  contains.  Look  back  on  your  own 
 early  years.  Recollect  the  levity  of  your 
 youthful  spirits ;  your  fondness  for  amuse- 
 
 ment ; 
 
SERMON  XIX. 
 
 S41 
 
 merit ;  your  love  of  pleasure ;  your  aver¬ 
 sion  to  all  serious  thought.  Had  you  been 
 abandoned,  in  that  stage  of  life,  to  the  bent 
 ©f  your  own  inclinations,  what  must  you 
 now  have  been  ?  How  were  you  formed  to 
 those  habits  of  attention  and  industry,  which 
 have  raised  you  to  success  and  usefulness  in 
 the  world  ?  For  the  harvest  which  you  now 
 reap,  you  are  indebted  to  the  labours  of 
 those  who  sow’ed  the  seed  in  the  spring. 
 Your  prosperity  in  life,  whatever  it  hath 
 been,  you  owe  to  the  guardians  of  your 
 youth,  who  checked  the  giddiness  of  your 
 minds,  directed  you  to  useful  pursuits,  nor 
 suffered  you  to  waste  in  folly  a  season  which 
 was  never  to  return. 
 
 Even  in  our  maturer  years,  our  industry 
 needs  often  to  be  animated  by  looking  for¬ 
 ward  to  the  distant  advantages  which  it  is 
 fitted  to  yield.  This,  however,  is  a  reflec¬ 
 tion  which  seldom  occurs  to  the  young. 
 They  think  only  of  the  moments  as  they 
 pass.  They  grasp  at  every  pleasure,  care¬ 
 less  of  the  consequences  which  may  ensue. 
 They  perceive  not  how  much  their  charac¬ 
 ters,  and  their  advancement  in  the  world, 
 depend  on  their  present  application.  But 
 
 Y  3  you, 
 
342 
 
 SERMON  XIX. 
 
 you,  who  are  parents,  perceive  it.  Your 
 observation  hath  long  ago  taught  you,  that 
 attention  and  diligence  in  youth  are  the 
 only  sure  foundation  on  which  a  respecta¬ 
 ble  manhood  can  be  reared.  To  you,  there¬ 
 fore,  it  belongs,  by  the  judicious  exercise  of 
 authority,  to  remedy  the  inexperience  of 
 the  young,  and  to  urge  them  on  in  the 
 path  in  which,  at  present,  perhaps,  they 
 walk  with  reluctance,  because  they  see  not 
 the  end  to  which  it  leads. 
 
 This  duty,  indeed,  may  require  a  painful 
 effort.  It  may  require  a  sacrifice  of  parental 
 fondness — it  may  require  you  to  frown  on 
 the  objects  of  your  care.  But  think  what 
 your  happiness  shall  be,  when  you  shall 
 behold  the  talents  which  you  have  culti¬ 
 vated  in  your  children,  and  the  habits  to 
 which  you  have  formed  them,  by  many  a 
 painful  struggle,  it  may  be,  and  with  much 
 resistence  on  their  part,  raising  them  to 
 success  and  honour,  rendering  them  an  or¬ 
 nament  and  a  blessing  to  their  country, 
 and  adding  a  new  lustre  to  your  name. 
 
 -  The  success  of  your  children  in  the  world 
 is  an  object  which  deserves  your  attention; 
 but  it  is  not  the  only  object  that  is  worthy 
 
SERMON  XIX. 
 
 343 
 
 of  a  parent’s  care.  Their  virtue  is  their 
 highest  interest ;  and  this,  also,  is  most  like¬ 
 ly  to  be  promoted  by  the  discipline  which 
 I  have  endeavoured  to  recommend. 
 
 Be  not  surprised,  my  friends,'  if  many 
 persons  come  forth  into  the  world,  selfish, 
 irascible,  dissolute,  and  regardless  of  every 
 sacred  obligation.  The  seeds  of  all  these  ‘ 
 vices  were  early  sown  in  their  hearts ;  they 
 were  sown  by  the  hands  of  their  parents, 
 who  suffered  them,  in  the  commencement 
 of  life,  to  act  without  control,  indulging 
 every  wayward  humour,  and  gratifying 
 every  extravagant  desire.  What  good  fruit 
 could  such  an  education  be  expected  to  pro¬ 
 duce  ?  In  order  that  the  mind  may  be  form¬ 
 ed  to  virtue,  it  must  be  accustomed  to  sub¬ 
 mit  to  restraint ;  for  what  else  is  virtue  but 
 the  habit  of  self-government,  the  power  of 
 regulating  our  affections  and  passions  by 
 the  dictates  of  reason  and  conscience  ?  To 
 live  according  to  rule  is  not  a  task  for  the 
 young  alone ;  it  is  a  duty  incumbent  on 
 all ;  it  is  that  which,  in  every  period  of 
 life,  distinguishes  the  virtuous  from  the  vi¬ 
 cious.  Now,  this  is  the  very  habit  to  which 
 the  mind  of  the  child  is  formed  by  the  ex- 
 
 Y4 
 
 ercise 
 
344 
 
 SERMON  XIX. 
 
 ercise  of  parental  authority.  How  many 
 useful  lessons  doth  he  learn  from  the  disci¬ 
 pline  of  his  father’s  house  !  He  is  prepared, 
 by  obedience  to  his  parents,  to  obey  his 
 conscience  and  his  God.  He  will  be  meek, 
 for  he  hath  learned  to  bear  contradiction ; 
 he  will  be  just,  for  he  hath  learned  to  mo¬ 
 derate  his  desires ;  he  will  be  temperate,  for 
 he  hath  learned  to  resist  the  solicitations  of 
 pleasure ;  he  will  be  generous,  for  he  hath 
 learned,  at  the  call  of  duty,  to  forego  his 
 own  ease  and  comfort,  and  he  is  prepared 
 for  every  sacrifice  which  benevolence  may 
 require  him  to  make.  Happy,  surely,  is 
 the  man  who  hath  thus  borne  the  yoke  in 
 his  youth  ! — Before  the  temptations  of  life 
 assail  him,  those  irregular  propensities  are 
 subdued  to  which  temptation  owes  its  pow¬ 
 er.  All  the  virtues  are  formed  in  his  mind 
 ere  he  be  called  to  display  them  in  the 
 world.  To  him  no  duty  is  irksome ;  to 
 him  no  restraint  seems  severe,  which  reason 
 or  religion  impose.  He  perseveres,  from  ha¬ 
 bit  and  inclination,  in  the  narrow  path  of 
 righteousness,  in  which,  from  his  youth,  he 
 hath  been  accustomed  to  -walk;  and  the 
 increasing  Justre  of  his  character  proclaims 
 
 the 
 
SERMON  XIX. 
 
 345 
 
 the  wisdom  of  the  discipline  under  which 
 he  hath  passed  his  early  years. 
 
 Let  me  beseech  you,  then,  my  friends,  as 
 you  value  the  virtue  of  your  children — that 
 virtue  on  which  depend  their  character  in 
 the  life  that  now  is,  and  their  portion  in 
 in  the  life  that  is  to  come ;  as  you  value 
 the  virtue  of  your  children,  accustom  them 
 early  to  acknowledge  authority,  and  to  sub¬ 
 mit  to  control.  Nor  allege  your  natural 
 affection,  and  your  unwillingness  to  inter¬ 
 rupt  their  happiness,  as  an  excuse  for  ne¬ 
 glecting  this  important  duty.  I  am  not 
 exhorting  you  to  treat  them  with  severity ; 
 but  I  am  exhorting  you  to  govern  them 
 with  wisdom.  With  this  view,  I  might 
 remind  you,  that  the  virtue  of  his  children 
 is  the  most  interesting  object  which  can 
 engage  a  parent’s  care ;  an  object  worthy 
 to  be  purchased  by  a  temporary  sacrifice  of 
 their  happiness ;  an  object  of  eternal  im¬ 
 portance.  I  might  remind  you,  that  God, 
 the.  most  merciful  of  parents,  suffers  not  his 
 children  to  be  happy,  while  they  persist  in 
 the  violation  of  his  laws ;  that  he  hath  im¬ 
 planted  conscience  in  our  breasts,  and  pro¬ 
 vided,  in  the  pangs  of  remorse,  a  punish¬ 
 ment 
 
346 
 
 SERMON  XIX. 
 
 ment  for  every  act  of  disobedience.  But 
 I  would  rather  speak  to  you  in  a  different 
 style.  I  would  rather  address  myself  to  that 
 natural  affection  from  which  this  fatal  error 
 springs ;  and  show  you,  that,  even  in  the 
 mean  time,  the  happiness  of  your  children 
 is  most  likely  to  be  promoted  by  the  disci¬ 
 pline  which  I  have  been  endeavouring  to 
 recommend.  I  appeal  to  experience  and 
 fact.  Look  around  you  into  the  world, 
 and  you  will  uniformly  find  it  to  be  the 
 case,  that  those  children  are  the  happiest 
 who  are  taught  to  live  according  to  estab¬ 
 lished  rules.  It  cannot,  indeed,  be  other¬ 
 wise  ;  for  they  learn,  by  this  salutary  dis¬ 
 cipline,  to  restrain  every  irregular  inclina¬ 
 tion  ;  they  cease  to  desire  what  is  forbid¬ 
 den,  because  they  know  that  it  is  not  to  be 
 attained.  Within  the  limits  which  their 
 parents  have  prescribed  to  them,  there  is 
 room  for  every  innocent  pleasure ;  and  to 
 such  pleasures  as  these  they  yield  them¬ 
 selves  with  peculiar  delight,  while  they  en¬ 
 joy  them  as  the  marks  of  approbation,  and 
 the  rewards  of  obedience. 
 
 Consider,  on  the  other  hand,  the  conse¬ 
 quence  of  an  opposite  management.  Let 
 
 the 
 
SERMON  XIX. 
 
 347 
 
 the  present  gratification  of  your  children 
 be  the  chief  object  of  your  attention ;  and 
 in  order  to  secure  this,  let  every  restraint 
 be  violated.  Yet,  your  own  power  is  li¬ 
 mited,  and  by  such  excessive  indulgence, 
 you  only  give  birth  to  new  desires,  which 
 no  indulgence  can  satisfy.  Their  demands 
 become  extravagant  and  boundless.  From 
 obtaining  what  it  was  your  duty  to  with¬ 
 hold  from  them,  they  proceed  to  ask  what 
 you  cannot  bestow  ;  and  their  disappoint¬ 
 ment  in  such  cases  as  these,  gives  rise  to 
 fretfulness,  and  impatience,  and  a  thousand 
 other  miseries,  from  which  those  children 
 are  happily  free,  who,  by  a  wise  course  of 
 discipline,  are  formed  to  moderation  of 
 mind.  In  youth,  as  in  maturer  years,  the 
 happiness  of  man  consists  not  in  the  grati¬ 
 fication  of  every  desire,  for  this  is  unattain¬ 
 able  on  earth  ;  but  in  the  power  of  accom¬ 
 modating  his  desires  to  the  circumstances 
 in  which  he  is  placed. 
 
 It  appears,  then,  that  even  in  the  mean 
 time,  the  happiness  of  your  children  is  most 
 likely  to  be  promoted  by  the  discipline 
 which  I  have  been  endeavouring  to  recom¬ 
 mend.  But  this  is  not  all ; — consider  their 
 
 happiness 
 
348 
 
 SERMON  XIX. 
 
 happiness  in  a  more  extensive  view  ; — 
 consider  their  happiness  through  the  whole 
 of  life.  Let  me  suppose  that  it  were 
 now  in  your  power  to  gratify  their  most 
 extravagant  wishes,  and  to  make  them  pass 
 through  the  paths  of  youth,  without  ex¬ 
 periencing  contradiction  or  restraint ;  can 
 you  also  control  the  course  of  events,  so 
 as  to  ensure  them  against  disappointment 
 in  the  world  ?  No  ;  my  friends,  the  course 
 of  events  will  not  bend  to  your  most  ear¬ 
 nest  wishes  in  their  behalf.  In  the  world 
 disappointments  await  them  ;  they  must 
 soon  enter  on  a  very  different  scene  from 
 that  in  which  they  have  hitherto  lived. 
 They  must  go  from  under  the  wings  of 
 your  affection,  to  mingle  with  other  asso¬ 
 ciates,  who  will  view  them  with  no  partial 
 fondness, — who  have  aims  of  their  own  to 
 accomplish,  and  interests  of  their  own  to 
 pursue.  He  who  is  now  the  idol  of  his  fa¬ 
 ther’s  house,  where  every  eye  is  attentive  to 
 mark  his  wishes,  and  where  every  hand  is 
 eager  to  fulfil  them,  must  soon  find  himself 
 a  man  among  men ;  he  must  exchange  pa¬ 
 rental  indulgence  for  the  indifference  of 
 strangers, — for  the  jealousy  of  rivals ;  it 
 
 may 
 
SERMON  XIX. 
 
 34^ 
 
 maiy  be,  for  the  hatred  of  enemies ;  and 
 what  a  mortifying  discovery  shall  he  make, 
 when  he  shall  perceive  for  the  first  time, 
 amidst  the  competitions  of  life,  that  his 
 will  is  not  a  law  to  the  world, — that  no  per¬ 
 son  cares  for  his  displeasure, — that  his  hap¬ 
 piness  is  of  no  more  moment  to  mankind 
 than  that  of  millions  besides.  In  such  a 
 scene  as  this  he  is  incapable  of  acting  his 
 part.  His  mind,  enfeebled  by  indulgence, 
 sinks  under  such  unexpected  opposition  ;  or 
 if  it  be  naturally  of  a  more  vigorous  cast,  it 
 vents  itself  in  peevishness  and  impatience, 
 
 and  all  the  extravagance  of  passion,  which 
 
 « 
 
 avails  not  with  the  world  as  it  did  with  his 
 parents ;  which,  instead  of  accomplishing 
 his  purposes,  only  provokes  more  formidable 
 resistance,  and  exposes  him  to  the  contempt 
 of  others,  while  it  renders  him  wretched  in 
 himself. 
 
 Let  me  beseech  you,  then,  my  friends, 
 as  you  value  the  happiness  of  your  children, 
 accustom  them  early  to  bear  contradiction, 
 and  to  submit  to  control ;  accustom  them  to 
 this,  not  by  wanton  and  unnecessary  oppo¬ 
 sition  to  their  wishes  y  not,  as  some  persons 
 have  suggested,  by  disappointments  contriv¬ 
 ed 
 
550 
 
 SERMON  XIX. 
 
 edon  purpose;  this  is  a  pitiful  artifice,  beneath 
 the  dignity  of  your  office.  There  is  neither 
 humanity  nor  justice  in  raising  the  expecta¬ 
 tions  of  your  children,  merely  for  the  sake 
 of  disappointing  them.  In  the  regular  dis¬ 
 charge  of  your  duty,  you  will  find  sufficient 
 occasion  to  thwart  them,  without  resorting 
 to  such  stratagems  as  these.  Be  faithful  in 
 all  your  engagements  to  your  children,  if 
 you  would  have  them  to  be  faithful  to  you  ; 
 but  teach  them  to  bear  contradiction,  by 
 the  steady  exercise  of  authority  in  enforcing 
 the  rules  which  you  prescribe.  This  is  an 
 important  lesson,  wffiich,  some  time  or 
 other,  they  must  learn.  They  must  learn 
 it,  either  from  you  or  from  the  world  ;  but 
 the  world  is  a  rigid  instructor.  It  teaches 
 by  a  discipline  more  severe  than  the  sacri¬ 
 fice  of  a  few  youthful  pleasures ;  it  teaches 
 by  events  that  may  overwhelm  them,  and 
 by  disasters  that  may  never  be  repaired. 
 Leave  not  your  children,  then,  to  learn 
 their  first  lessons  of  wisdom  from  an  expe¬ 
 rience  that  may  cost  them  so  much.  Leave 
 them  not  to  learn  patience  amidst  the  ad¬ 
 verse  accidents  of  life,  or  to  learn  modera¬ 
 tion  of  mind,  from  the  resistance  of  rivals 
 
 ,  and 
 
SERMON  XIX. 
 
 551 
 
 and  enemies.  They  will  learn  it  more  ea¬ 
 sily  from  yoU)  who  can  mingle  parental  af¬ 
 fection  with  the  restraints  which  you  see 
 it  necessary  to  impose, — who  can  cor¬ 
 rect  them  with  a  tender  hand,  and  sub¬ 
 due  without  crushing  their  spirits ; — from 
 you,  therefore,  let  them  learn  it.  By  teach¬ 
 ing  them  moderation  of  mind,  you  pre¬ 
 pare  them  for  acting  with  composure  and 
 manliness  in  the  most  trying  situations  of 
 life.  You  do  all  that  parents  can  do,  to  pro¬ 
 mote  the  happiness  of  your  children.  You 
 cannot  control  the  course  of  events;  but  you 
 '  teach  them  to  meet  opposition  with  calm¬ 
 ness,  and '  to  bear  disappointment  with  se¬ 
 renity.  You  cannot  secure  to  them  all  that 
 you  may  wish;  but  you  do  more,  you  teach 
 them  to  be  happy  without  it. 
 
 Thus  I  have  endeavoured  to  set  before 
 you  the  nature,  and  the  degree  of  those  re¬ 
 straints,  which  it  is  proper  to  impose  on 
 -the  young,  and  to  point  out  the  salutary 
 influence  of  such  restraints,  on  their  suc¬ 
 cess,  on  their  virtue,  and  on  their  happi¬ 
 ness.  I  have  insisted  the  longer  on  this 
 subject,  because,  I  consider  it  as  extremely 
 important ;  because,  without  a  regular  sys¬ 
 tem 
 
352 
 
 SERMON  XIX, 
 
 tern  of  discipline,  and  the  steady  exercise  of 
 authority,  neither  the  religious  nor  moral 
 education  of  the  young  can  be  conducted 
 with  any  effect.  It  is,  perhaps,  one  of  the 
 greatest  defects  in  our  modern  system  of 
 education,  that  children  are  too  early  re¬ 
 leased  from  the  restraints  of  parental  au¬ 
 thority.  At  a  period  of  life,  during  which 
 the  youth  of  former  times  were  still  em¬ 
 ployed,  under  the  inspection  of  instructors 
 and  guardians,  in  prosecuting  useful  stu¬ 
 dies  ;  at  an  age  when  they  need  a  counsel¬ 
 lor  the  most,  we  see  them  now  sent  forth 
 into  the  world,  abandoned  to  their  own  di¬ 
 rection,  and  furnished,  perhaps,  with  all  the 
 means  of  dissipation.  Their  ruin  is  almost 
 unavoidable.  They  are  exposed  to  all  the 
 temptations  of  manhood  before  they  have 
 acquired  the  wisdom  to  resist  them.  Igno¬ 
 rant,  inexperienced,  and  thoughtless,  they 
 become  a  prey  to  every  irregular  com¬ 
 panion  with  whom  they  happen  to  asso¬ 
 ciate.  The  impressions  of  their  early  edu¬ 
 cation  are  soon  effaced  from  their  minds. 
 Forsaking  every  useful  pursuit,  they  abuse 
 the  bounty  of  their  parents  in  ministering 
 to  the  excesses  of  others.  They  waste  the 
 
 season 
 
SERMON  XIX; 
 
 853 
 
 season  of  improvement  in  scenes  of  extm^ 
 vagance  and  riot,  and  account  it  manly  to 
 excel  in  vice. 
 
 Unfortunate  youths !  who  are  thus  aban*« 
 doned  to  destruction.  Before  their  reason 
 hath  had  time  to  unfold  itself,  they  have 
 explored  the  whole  circle  of  dissipation. 
 The  first  connection  which  they  form  with 
 the  world  is  by  sharing  in  its  follies  and  its 
 crimes.  The  ferocity  of  their  manners,  the 
 coarseness  of  their  conversation,  and  their 
 contempt  for  every  thing  that  is  orderly 
 and  decent,  mark  them  out  to  the  most 
 careless  eye*  Their  health  is  broken  by  in¬ 
 temperance  before  they  have  arrived  at  the 
 vigour  of  life,  and  they  exhibit  all  the  symp¬ 
 toms  of  old  age,  even  in  the  beginning  of 
 their  days.  It  is  in  vain  to  expect,  that 
 they  will  prove  a  comfort  to  their  parents, 
 or  a  blessing  to  their  country*  They  have 
 neglected  to  cultivate  the  talents  that  are 
 necessary  for  those  important  stations  to 
 which  their  birth  and  their  fortune  might 
 entitle  them  to  aspire,  and  must  be  content 
 to  reap,  in  a  useless  and  contemptible  life, 
 the  fruits  of  that  extravagance  and  folly,  in 
 which  they  have  wasted  their  early  years. 
 
 z  For 
 
SERMON  XIX. 
 
 For  we  are  not  to  imagine,  that  when  they 
 have  finished  their  career  of  vice,  they  will 
 return  to  the  paths  of  wisdom.  It  is  a  dan¬ 
 gerous  experiment  to  allow  them  this  un¬ 
 bounded  indulgence,  in  the  hope,  that  their 
 excesses  themselves  will  reform  them.  They 
 may,  indeed,  become  weary  of  their  ex¬ 
 cesses,  as  is  the  case,  in  a  greater  or  less  de¬ 
 gree,  with  all  who  yield  themselves  to  ex¬ 
 cess.  They  may — they  must  cease  to  find 
 pleasure  in  their  evil  courses  ;  but  they  will 
 not,  on  that  account,  abandon  them.  Man 
 is  the  creature  of  habit,  and  their  vicious 
 habits  will  remain,  after  their  vices  have 
 lost  their  relish.  The  scenes  in  which  they 
 have  been  accustomed  to  live  will  still  con¬ 
 tinue  to  attract  them  ;  their  irregular  pro¬ 
 pensities  will  still  hold  possession  of  their 
 hearts,  and  force  them  to  seek,  in  the  repe¬ 
 tition  of  their  former  irregularities,  enjoy¬ 
 ments  which  they  feel  to  be  insipid,  but 
 which  they  have  not  resolution  to  forego. 
 
 The  w^ord  of  God  declares,  and  the  expe¬ 
 rience  of  mankind  confirms  the  declaration, 
 that  habits  to  which  we  have  early  been  ad¬ 
 dicted,  and  especially  vicious  habits,  ope¬ 
 rate  with  almost  irresistible  force  :  Can  the 
 
 Ethioinan 
 
SERMON  XIX. 
 
 355 
 
 Ethiopian  change  his  skin,  or  the  leopard  his 
 spots  ?  then  may  he  do  good  who  hath  been 
 accustomed  to  do  evil.  How  rarely  doth  it 
 happen,  that  those  who  have  spent  their 
 youth  in  idleness  and  debauchery,  become 
 sober  and  virtuous  in  their  riper  years.  It 
 requires  some  severe  stroke  of  affliction, — 
 some  dreadful  reverse  of  fortune,  or  some 
 miraculous  interposition  of  Heaven,  to  pro-’ 
 duce  this  change  of  character.  Let  me 
 suppose,  that  they  have  experienced  the 
 fatal  consequences  of  their  excesses,  and  are 
 desirous  to  forsake  them  ;  yet  they  have 
 nothing  to  substitute  in  their  place.  They 
 are  not  qualified  for  engaging  in  any 
 useful  pursuit ;  they  have  not  acquired  a 
 relish  for  any  pure  or  manly  pleasure.  It 
 was  passion  that  at  first  betrayed  them  into 
 vice  and  now  they  persist,  from  necessity, 
 in  practices  which  they  know  to  be  destruc¬ 
 tive,  because  they  have  left  themselves  no 
 other  resource. 
 
 To  you,  who  are  parents,  it  belongs  to 
 save  your  children  from  such  miseries  as 
 these.  If  you  have  studied,  in  their  early 
 years,  to  form  them  to  piety  and  virtue, 
 persevere  in  your  generous  exertions,  till 
 
 z  2  you 
 
3^6  \ 
 
 SERMON  XIX. 
 
 you  have  fully  accomplished  your  task.  Re¬ 
 mit  not  your  attention  to  their  conduct,  till 
 they  have  acquired^  that  steadiness  of  mind 
 which  may  enable  them  to  resist  the  temp-* 
 tations  of  life.  Train  them,  by  degrees, 
 for  mingling  in  the  world,  before  you  leave 
 them  in  the  promiscuous  crowd  ;  nor  let 
 them  want  a  guide  to  direct  them  in  a  sea¬ 
 son  on  which  all  depends.  Behold,  in  the 
 instincts  of  the  inferior  creatures,  an  image 
 of  that  watchful  care  which  ought  to  fill  a 
 parent’s  breast.  The  eagle  stirreth  up  her 
 Tiest^ — she  Jiuttereth  over  her  youngs — she 
 spreadeth  abroad  her  wings, — she  taketh  them, 
 and  beareth  them  on  her  wings  ;  nor  com¬ 
 mits  them  too  hastily  to  an  element,  in 
 which,  as  yet,  they  are  not  qualified  to 
 move.  And  shall  man  be  inattentive  to 
 his  offspring?  Shall  he  abandon  those  whom 
 nature  hath  committed  to  his  tenderest  af¬ 
 fection  ;  for  whose  birth  he  gave  thanks  to 
 Heaven,  and  to  whose  attachment  and  vir¬ 
 tues  he  looks  forward  as  the  consolation  of 
 his  declining  years?  Shall  he  abandon  them, 
 unprotected  and  helpless,  to  the  snares  and 
 temptations  of  the  world,  to  the  sway  of 
 every  irregular  inclination,  and  to  the  arts 
 ^  of 
 
SERMON  XIX. 
 
 357 
 
 of  those  base  seducers  who  will  glory  in  the 
 ruin  of  their  innocence  ?  No,  my  friends, 
 let  not  carelessness  of  temper,  nor  the 
 weakness  of  parental  affection,  nor  that  va¬ 
 nity,  which  it  is  so  natural  to  feel,  when 
 yon  see  your  children  coming  forward  into 
 life,  betray  you  into  this  fatal  error.  Fi¬ 
 nish  the  work  which  you  have  brought  so 
 near  to  its  conclusion,  nor  desist  from  your 
 labour  of  love,  when  you  are  about  to  reap 
 its  fruits. 
 
 It  is  proper,  indeed,  that  the  reins  of  au¬ 
 thority  should  be  relaxed,  in  proportion  as 
 your  children  advance  in  years.  It  is  pro¬ 
 per,  that  you  should  treat  them  with  in¬ 
 creasing  confidence,  in  proportion  as  they 
 appear  to  deserve  it.  By  trusting  them  oc¬ 
 casionally  to  their  own  management,  you 
 teach  them  by  degrees  to  think  and  act  for 
 themselves ;  a  lesson  which  will  be  of  much 
 advantage  to  them  in  their  future  inter¬ 
 course  with  the  world. 
 
 But  let  this  change  of  discipline  be  in¬ 
 troduced  with  caution.  Continue  to  fol¬ 
 low  them  with  your  eye,  after  your  hand 
 hath  ceased  to  lead  them.  Attend  careful¬ 
 ly  to  the  manner  in  which  they  use  the 
 
 z  3  confidence 
 
358 
 
 SERMON  XIX. 
 
 confidence  which  you  repose  in  theni.  If 
 you  observe  in  them  a  tendency  to  evil, 
 check  it  on  its  first  appearance,  nor  suffer 
 it  to  grow  into  a  habit  which  may  disgrace 
 their  future  lives.  You  will  be  most  likely 
 to  restrain  them  from  excessive  and  vicious 
 pleasures,  if  you  indulge  them  in  such  as  are 
 imioeent  and  moderate,  and  if  you  conde¬ 
 scend  yourselves  to  share  with  them  in  the 
 enjoy  merits  of  which  you  allow  them  to  par¬ 
 take.  But  let  them  know,  that  it  is  such 
 pleasures  only  as  are  innocent  and  moderate 
 that  they  can  enjoy  with  your  approbation  ; 
 that  amusement  is  not  the  business  of  life  ; 
 and  that  their  love  of  pleasure  becomes 
 excessive,  when  it  tends  to  dissipate  their 
 minds,  and  disqualifies  them  for  the  atten¬ 
 tion  which  they  owe  to  concerns  more  se¬ 
 rious  and  important. 
 
 The  means  of  restraining  them  are  in 
 your  power,  and  to  neglect  so  sacred  a  du¬ 
 ty  is  to  be  accessary  to  the  ruin  of  your 
 children.  It  is  to  unfit  them  for  every  use¬ 
 ful  occupation  ;  it  is  to  expose  their  virtues 
 to  temptations  which,  as  yet,  they  have  not 
 power  to  resist ;  it  is  to  expose  their  very 
 lives  to  disasters,  which  may  shorten  the 
 
 3  period 
 
SERMON  XIX. 
 
 $59 
 
 period  of  their  days,  and  call  you  to  the 
 melancholy  office  of  laying  them  in  an  un¬ 
 timely  grave.  Believe  me,  they  will  re¬ 
 spect  you  the  more  for  restraining  them 
 from  what  they  know  to  be  wrong  ;  and  if 
 you  mingle  reasonable  indulgence  with  the 
 authority  which  you  see  it  necessary  to  ex¬ 
 ert,  you  will  at  once  secure  their  confi¬ 
 dence,  and  strengthen  their  filial  affection. 
 They  will  listen  with  gratitude  to  your 
 counsels,  which,  from  their  childhood,  they 
 have  been  accustomed  to  obey.  They  will 
 lay  open  to  you,  without  reserve,  the  most 
 secret  wishes  of  their  hearts,  because  they 
 know,  that  you  refuse  them  nothing  which 
 it  is  not  their  interest  to  forego.  At  any 
 rate,  you  shall  have  done  your  duty ;  and  the 
 time  is  fast  approaching,  when  those  whom 
 you  have  thus  tutored  in  their  youth,  shall 
 become  your  companions  and  your  friends, 
 — companions,  (if  you  have  formed  them  to 
 virtue)  companions  who  shall  be  your  choic¬ 
 est  consolation,  and  friends  of  whom  you 
 shall  never  be  ashamed.  Then  will  they  bless 
 you  for  that  salutary  discipline,  of  which,  at 
 present,  they  perceive  not  the  value  ; — they 
 will  view  you  as  the  authors  of  their  happi- 
 
 z  4  ness ; — 
 
3<S0 
 
 SERMON  XIX. 
 
 ness ; — they  will  repay  you  the  debt  of 
 love,  by  solacing  you  in  the  evening  of 
 your  days ;  and  when  you  are  gathered  to 
 your  fathers,  they  shall  transmit  your  name 
 
 with  honour,  to  generations  that  are  yet  to 
 arise* 
 
 ON 
 
ON  EARLY  PIETY, 
 
 SERMON  XX, 
 
 ECCLESIASTES,  XTI,  1. 
 
 He^nember,  nffto,  thy  Creator  in  the  days  of  thy 
 youths  while  the  evil  days  come  mty  nor  the 
 years  draw  nigh,  when  thou  shalt  say,  I  have  no 
 pleasure  in  them, 
 
 To  rememember  our  Creator  is  to  pre*-  . 
 serve  on  our  minds  a  deep  and  habitual 
 sense  of  his  existence,  his  perfections,  and 
 his  government ;  and  to  be  habitually  alive 
 to  the  emotions  which  his  perfections  are 
 fitted  to  inspire.  In  this  view,  the  duty  re¬ 
 commended  in  the  text  includes  the  whole 
 of  piety.  It  is  a  duty  incumbent  on  men 
 in  every  period  of  life  :  but  as  the  preacher, 
 in  the  words  which  I  have  read,  enforces  it 
 peculiarly  on  the  young,  I  shall  have  a  pe¬ 
 culiar 
 
SERMON  XX. 
 
 culiar  regard  to  them,  in  the  arguments  to 
 which,  through  the  divine  assistance,  I  shall 
 at  present  direct  your  attention. 
 
 I.  Consider,  in  the  first  place,  then,  that 
 youth  is  the  most  favourable  season  for  re¬ 
 ceiving  the  impressions  of  religion. 
 
 It  is  now,  my  young  friends,  that  your 
 minds  are  most  susceptible  of  the  emotions 
 from  which  the  sentiment  of  piety  springs. 
 As  yet  the  world  is  new  to  you,  and  the 
 gaiety  of  your  youthful  spirits  gives  a  pecu¬ 
 liar  charm  to  every  object  around  you.  You 
 range  with  pleasure  through  your  destined 
 abode,  admiring  the  beauty  and  the  glory 
 of  the  scene  which  hath  lately  been  open¬ 
 ed  to  your  view,  and  rejoicing  in  the  pro¬ 
 vision  which  is  made  for  your  future  sub¬ 
 sistence  and  comfort.  The  splendour  of 
 the  firmament, — the  verdure  of  the  earth, 
 the  varied  colours  of  the  flowers  which  fill 
 the  air  with  their  fragrance,  and  the  mu¬ 
 sic  of  those  artless  voices  which  mingle  on 
 every  tree,  all  conspire  to  captivate  your 
 hearts,  and  to  swell  them  with  the  most 
 rapturous  delight.  Novelty  aids  the  impres¬ 
 sion.  Wonder  and  admiration  arise  j  and 
 
 you 
 
SERMON  XX. 
 
 365 
 
 you  feel  yourselves  irresistibly  prompted  to 
 enquire  after  the  Author  of  all. 
 
 Whence  sprung  this  wondrous  system  in. 
 the  midst  of  which  you  are  placed  ;  the  air, 
 the  earth,  the  sea,  and  all  the  host  of  hea¬ 
 ven  ?  Who  is  it  that  commands  the  light 
 to  arise  to  chear  you  amidst  the  labours  of 
 the  day,  and  spreads  the  curtain  of  darkness 
 around  you  in  the  hours  which  are  destin¬ 
 ed  for  repose  ?  Who  is  it  that  blesses  the 
 springing  of  the  ground,  that  causes  grass 
 to  grow  for  cattle,  ^nd  herbs  for  the  use  of 
 man  ?  Who  is  it  that  clothes  the  flowers  of 
 the  field,  that  covers  the  trees  with  leaves, 
 and  makes  them  to  yield  their  fruit  in  their 
 season,  providing  food  for  every  living  thing, 
 and  filling  your  hearts  with  gladness  ?  OLordy 
 hoii)  7namfold  are  thy  works  I  In  wisdom  hast 
 thoumade  them  all;  theearthisfidl  of  thy  riches. 
 
 It  is  in  youth  that  the  blessing  of  life  pos¬ 
 sesses  its  highest  flavour.  Nourished  and 
 guided  by  those  to  whom  your  tender  years 
 are  intrusted,  you  behold  every  comfort 
 provided  for  you  without  any  labour  of  your 
 own.  Your  minds  have  not  yet  been  dis¬ 
 tracted  by  care,  nor  your  spirits  broken  by 
 distress.  Yielding  to  the  warmth  of  your 
 
 early 
 
56*4 
 
 SERMON  XX. 
 
 early  attachments,  you  are  strangers  to  sus¬ 
 picion  and  distrust.  The  world  hath  not 
 yet  deceived  you.  Experience  hath  not  yet 
 reminded  you  of  the  emptiness  of  all  hu¬ 
 man  things.  Your  sensibility  is  as  yet  un¬ 
 impaired,  and  you  taste  the  pleasures  to 
 which  you  have  lately  been  admitted,  with 
 a  relish  unknown  to  those  who  have  long 
 been  accustomed  to  enjoy  them.  The 
 morning  of  life  shines  as  yet  without  a 
 cloud.  Fancy,  active  and  vigorous,  adorns 
 every  scene  ;  and  hope,  the  gay  companion 
 of  youth,  unrepressed,  as  yet,  by  disap¬ 
 pointment,  stretches  its  eye  afar  over  a 
 boundless  prospect  of  bliss. 
 
 And  shall  this  delightful  season  pass,  with¬ 
 out  an  emotion  of  piety  to  that  gracious 
 Being  from  whom  all  that  is  fair  and  excel¬ 
 lent  is  derived  ?  or  will  you  delay  to  express 
 the  gratitude  which  you  owe  to  the  Author 
 of  your  comforts,  till  you  begin  to  contem¬ 
 plate  nature  with  the  unfeeling  eye  of  age,— «• 
 till  your  pleasures  begin  to  tire, — till  your 
 affections  begin  to  decay,  and  till  the  cares 
 and  troubles  of  life  have  darkened  the  path 
 of  Providence  ?  No,  my  young  friends,  let 
 the  sentiment  of  piety  be  unfolded  in  the  sea¬ 
 son 
 
SERMON  XX. 
 
 365 
 
 son  which  is  most  favourable  to  its  exercise^ 
 while,  as  yet,  your  hearts  are  alive  to  every 
 generous  feeling,  while  the  marks  of  your 
 Maker’s  goodness  beam  with  such  unsullied 
 brightness  from  every  object  around  you, 
 while  still  you  continue  to  taste  the  blessings 
 which  his  bounty  bestows,  with  pure  and 
 unmingled  joy.  Remember^  now,  thy  Creator 
 in  the  days  of  thy  youth,  while  the  evil  days 
 come  not,  nor  the  years  draw  nigh,  when  thou, 
 shalt  say,  I  have  no  pleasure  in  them, 
 
 II.  Consider,  in  the  second  place,  that 
 early  piety  will  be  the  best  guardian  of  your 
 virtue,  amidst  the  temptations  which  awMt 
 you  in  the  world. 
 
 At  present,  your  minds  retain  all  their 
 native  simplicity  and  innocence.  The  au¬ 
 thority  of  your  parents  and  guardians^  keeps 
 you  at  a  distance  from  every  scene  which 
 might  tend  to  corrupt  your  hearts.  Your 
 breasts  glow,  as  yet,  with  the  love  of  all 
 that  is  excellent ;  and  while  you  contem¬ 
 plate  with  horror^  the  vices  of  many  who 
 are  farther  advanced  in  years,  you  exult  in 
 the  consciousness  of  integrity,  and  fancy 
 that  no  earthly  temptation  shall  ever  betray 
 
 you 
 
S66  SERMON  XX. 
 
 you  into  guilt.  These  feelings,  I  doubt  not,- 
 are  sincere ;  long  may  they  continue  to 
 reign  in  your  souls,  and  to  restrain  you 
 from  all  appearance  of  evil.  But  alas  !  you 
 are  not  aware  of  the  dangers  which  lie  be¬ 
 fore  you  in  the  path  of  life.  The  calm  in 
 which  you  now  dwell  will  not  always  en¬ 
 dure.  You  must  soon  be  removed  from 
 the  inspection  of  those  who  have  hitherto 
 guided  your  youth,  to  engage  in  the  busi¬ 
 ness  of  the  world,  and  to  be  solicited  by  a 
 variety  of  objects,  to  whose  influence  as 
 yet  you  are  strangers.  Passions,  which  have 
 hitherto  been  still,  will,  ere  long,  display 
 their  power.  The  calls  of  interest  will  be 
 heard,  and  the  allurements  of  pleasure  will 
 be  presented.  You  shall  mingle  with  a  race 
 of  men  who  are  governed  by  very  different 
 principles  from  those  in  which  your  parents 
 have  instructed  you ; — in  whose  society 
 every  sacred  principle  is  treated  with  wan¬ 
 ton  ridicule,  and  whose  example  may  betray 
 you  into  practices,  of  which,  at  present, 
 perhaps,  you  shudder  to  think. 
 
 Miserable  is  the  condition  of  the  youth 
 who  enters  on  this  scene  of  trial,  unforti- 
 fled  by  the  sentiment  of  religion.  His  vir¬ 
 tue, 
 
SERMON  XX. 
 
 36T 
 
 cue,  destitute  of  the  support  which  alone 
 can  enable  it  to  prevail,  falls  an  easy  prey 
 to  temptation  ;  and  every  fair  character 
 which  nature  had  impressed,  is  speedily  ef¬ 
 faced  from  his  soul.  But  how  different  is 
 the  situation  of  those  whose  hearts  have 
 been  early  impressed  with  the  love  and  the 
 fear  of  God !  They  mingle  in  the  bustle 
 of  active  life,  influenced  by  higher  motives 
 than  any  which  the  world  can  present. 
 Though  removed  from  the  inspection  of 
 their  parents,  they  do  not  consider  them¬ 
 selves  as  released  from  any  restraint  which 
 the  eye  of  a  parent  could  impose.  They 
 know  that  they  have  a  Father  in  heaven, 
 whose  eye  continually  beholds  them.  The 
 sense  of  what  they  owe  to  their  Maker 
 strengthens  every  moral  obligation.  Hav¬ 
 ing  acquired  a  relish  for  the  pleasures  of  de¬ 
 votion,  they  despise  those  meaner  pleasures 
 by  which  others  are  betrayed  into  guilt. 
 Neither  the  censure  nor  the  derision  of  the 
 wicked  can  shake  the  constancy  of  their 
 souls,  while  they  enjoy  the  favour  of  that 
 great  Being  on  whom  their  existence  and 
 their  comforts  hang.  Confiding  in  his  al¬ 
 mighty  power,  they  labour  amidst  the 
 
 temptations 
 
363 
 
 SERMON  XX. 
 
 temptations  which  surround  them,  to  main¬ 
 tain  their  innocence  inviolate ;  and  guided 
 by  his  infinite  wisdom,  they  pass  in  safety 
 through  those  dangerous  paths  in  which 
 thousands  of  their  brethren  perish. 
 
 When  those  who  are  strangers  to  the  sen¬ 
 timent  of  piety  are  betrayed  into  the  prac¬ 
 tice  of  vice,  their  ruin  is  almost  irretriev-* 
 able.  They  abandon  themselves,  without  re¬ 
 straint  or  fear,  to  the  sway  of  every  evil 
 passion  ;  nor  hath  any  principle  been  form¬ 
 ed  in  their  breasts,  which  can  check  them 
 in  the  career  of  guilt,  or  recal  them  to  the 
 paths  of  virtue.  But  not  thus  hopeless  is 
 the  condition  of  those  who  have  remem¬ 
 bered  their  Creator  in  their  youth.  Though 
 they  wander,  they  return  again.  When 
 the  season  of  reflection  comes,  their  former 
 feelings  revive.  They  call  to  mind  those 
 happier  days  when  they  rejoiced  in  the  con- 
 .sciousness  of  innocence,  and  in  the  smiles 
 of  their  Maker’s  favour.  The  remembrance 
 awakens  many  a  tender  emotion.  The  fire 
 of  divine  love,  which  had  been  repressed 
 but  not  extinguished,  kindled  by  such  re¬ 
 flections  as  these,  and  fanned  by  the  breath 
 of  Heaven,  burns  in  their  breasts  again  with 
 
 all 
 
SERMON  XX. 
 
 369 
 
 its  ancient  fervour ;  and  while  with  deep 
 contrition  of  spirit  they  bow  themselves  be¬ 
 fore  the  God  whom  they  have  offended,  the 
 sense  of  his  infinite  goodness  supports  and 
 cheers  their  souls.  For  they  do  not  ap- 
 '  proach  him  as  a  Being  unknown  ;  they 
 come  to  him  as  children  to  a  father,  con¬ 
 fiding  in  that  compassion  and  kindness 
 which  have  so  often  warmed  their  hearts, 
 to  renew  the  sacred  engagements  by  which 
 of  old  they  devoted  themselves  to  his  ser¬ 
 vice,  and  to  seek,  in  his  returning  favour, 
 the  felicity  of  their  early  years.  They  enter 
 with  new  alacrity  on  the  path  from  which 
 they  had  wandered ;  and  their  virtue,  strength¬ 
 ened  by  their  experience  of  the  miseries 
 which  flow  from  guilt,  henceforth  triumphs 
 over  the  temptations  to  which  others  have 
 surrendered  the  empire  of  their  souls. 
 
 III.  Consider,  in  the  last  place,  that,  by 
 remembering  your  Creator  in  your  youth, 
 you  provide  a  store  of  consolation  amidst 
 the  cares  and  calamities  of  life. 
 
 These  cares  and  calamities,  perhaps,  are 
 at  present  far  from  your  thoughts.  You' 
 have  not  yet  begun  to  consider  yourselves 
 
 A  a 
 
 as 
 
370 
 
 SERMON  XX. 
 
 as  born  to  trouble.  Happy  in  the  affection 
 of  your  parents,  and  tasting,  with  a  lively 
 relish,  the  blessings  which,  in  this  delight¬ 
 ful  season,  are  scattered  so  profusely  around 
 you,  you  yield  your  hearts  to  joy,  fearless 
 of  future  ill,  and  fancy  that  your  years  as 
 they  advance  shall  bring  you  only  new  ac¬ 
 cessions  of  felicity.  But  these  hopes,  alas  ! 
 accord  not  with  the  human  condition.  Af¬ 
 fliction  is  the  lot  of  man,  from  which  even 
 the  virtuous  are  not  exempted  ;  nor  shall 
 you  ever  be  completely  furnished  for  the 
 uncertain  journey  of  life,  till  you  have  found 
 a  principle  which  can  support  you  when 
 the  world  hath  no  consolation  to  afford. 
 Such  is  the  principle  of  piety ;  a  principle 
 which  -will  sweeten  your  prosperity  by 
 mingling  gratitude  to  God  with  the  enjoy¬ 
 ment  of  every  earthly  blessing ;  a  principle 
 which  wdll  solace  you  in  adversity,  while  it 
 inspires  you  with  trust  in  that  gracious 
 Providence  which  disposes  of  all  events. 
 This  principle,  then,  be  it  your  study  now 
 to  acquire.  Remember  your  Creator  in  the 
 days  of  your  youth^  while  the  evil  days  come 
 not,  nor  the  years  draw  nigh,  when  you  shall 
 say,  you  have  no  pleasure  in  them. 
 
 There 
 
SERMON  XX. 
 
 371 
 
 There  are  evil  days  approaching  for  wliich 
 it  becomes  you  to  prepare.  Your  parents^ 
 in  whose  affection  you  now  rejoice,  may  be 
 taken  from  you  by  the  hand  of  death.  This 
 is  often  the  first  wound  by  which  the  heart 
 is  destined  to  bleed ;  and  there  are  many 
 of  the  same  age  with  you,  who  are  already 
 left  orphans  in  the  world.  What  shall  sup¬ 
 port  you  in  the  hour  when  you  close  the 
 eyes  of  a  parent,  or  lay  his  head  in  the 
 grave  ?  In  a  season  so  interesting  as  this, 
 happy,  surely,  is  he  who  can  raise  his  soul 
 to  God,  and  say  unto  him.  Thou  art  my 
 Father. — Such  shall  your  happiness  be,  if 
 you  remember  your  Creator  in  your  youth. 
 You  shall  not  be  left  destitute  or  forlorn, 
 when  your  earthly  parents  forsake  you. 
 He  who  is  the  stay  of  the  orphan,  will 
 prove  a  guardian  and  a  stay  to  you.  The 
 Lord  will  take  you  up.  His  wisdom  will 
 supply  to  you  the  loss  of  a  parent’s  coun¬ 
 sel  ;  his  goodness  will  supply  to  you  the 
 loss  of  a  parent’s  love.  Listen  to  his  gra¬ 
 cious  voice^/  love  them,  that  love  me  ;  and 
 they  that  seek  me  early  shall  find  me. 
 
 There  are  evil  days  approaching  for  which 
 it  becomes  you  to  prepare.  All  your  earthly 
 
 A  a  2  comforts 
 
I 
 
 37^2  S  K  R  M  O  N  XX. 
 
 comforts  are  uncertain  and  perishable;  your 
 riches  may  make  to  themselves  wings ;  the 
 friends  in  whom  you  confide  may  prove 
 treacherous;  and  days  of  sickness  may  come 
 in  which  the  help  of  man  shall  be  vain. 
 Would  you  provide  a  store  of  consolation 
 before  these  evil  days  arrive  ?  Remember 
 ijour  Creator  in  your  youth.  Seek,  in  his 
 favour,  a  treasure  of  which  no  accident  can 
 bereave  you.  Seek  in  him  a  friend  whom 
 no  adversity  can  alienate.  Accustom  your¬ 
 selves  to  adore  the  wisdom,  and  to  confide 
 in  the  goodness  of  his  providence,  while  yet 
 it  smiles  on  your  lot.  Thus  shall  you  learn 
 to  trace  his  mighty  hand  even  in  his  dark¬ 
 est  dispensations ;  you  shall  regard  the  af¬ 
 flictions  of  life  as  the  discipline  of  an  affec¬ 
 tionate  parent;  and,  amidst  distresses  by 
 which  others  are  overwhelmed,  you  shall 
 possess  your  souls  in  peace.  He  whom 
 you  have  remembered  in  your  happier 
 days,  will  hear  you  in  the  time  of  trouble. 
 Through  the  cloud  which  encompasses  your 
 lot,  the  light  of  your  Father’s  countenance 
 shall  beam  on  your  drooping  spirits ;  and 
 his  voice,  which  you  have  known  of  old, 
 shall  proclaim-from  on  high  in  your  ears — 
 
 Fear 
 
SERMON  XX. 
 
 37s 
 
 Fear  not,  for  J  am  with  ymi.  Be  not  dis¬ 
 mayed,  foj'  I  am  your  God. 
 
 There  are  evil  days.approacliing  for  which 
 it  becomes  you  to  prepare.  .  Though  you 
 should  escape  all'  the  other  calamities  of 
 life,  old  age  shall  come  at  last,— that' season 
 of  weariness  and  dejection,  when  the  hoary 
 head  shall  begin  to  bend  towards  the  grave ; 
 when  the  knees  shall  totter  with  infirmity, 
 and  fear  shall  be  in  the  way  ;  when  the 
 pleasures  of  the  world  shall  please  no  more ; 
 when  life  shall  be  felt  to  be  a  burden,  and 
 desire  itself  shall  fail. 
 
 Where  shall  you  find  consolation  when 
 these  evil  days  shall  come  ?  You  shall  find 
 it  in  the  God  of  your  youth.  Listen  to  his 
 gracious  voice.  Even  to  your  old  age  I  am 
 He,  and  to  your  hoary  hairs  I  will  carry  you. 
 With  pleasure,  in  this  dreary  season,  you 
 shall  review  the  progress  of  a  life  devoted 
 to  the  service  of  your  Maker.  You  shall 
 raise  your  souls  to  him  as  your  chosen,  an¬ 
 cient  friend,  to  recal  the  goodness  of  his 
 providence  which  hath  hitherto  followed 
 your  path,  and  to  dwell  on  it  as  a  ground 
 of  trust,  during  the  little  that  still  remains 
 of  your  pilgrimage.  0  Lord,  I  am  conti- 
 
 A  a  3  7nLally 
 
574 
 
 SERMON  XX. 
 
 ,  niially  with  thee.  Thou  hast  liolden  me  by  my 
 right  hand.  Thou  wilt  guide  me  by  thy  coun¬ 
 sel  while  I  live.,  and  receive  me  hereafter  to 
 thy  glory.  My  heart  and  my  flesh  shall  fail : 
 but  God  is  the  strength  of  my  heart.,  and  my 
 portion  for  evei\ 
 
 ON 
 
ON  THE  CHARACTER  OF  BARZILLAE 
 
 SERMON  XXI. 
 
 2  SAMUEL,  XIX.  34. 
 
 A7id  Barzillai  said  unto  the  Icings  how  long  have 
 I  to  live,  that  1  should  go  up  xvith  the  king  unto 
 Jerusalem  ? 
 
 f  HE  history  of  which  these  words  are  a 
 part,  presents  to  us  several  instructive  inci¬ 
 dents,  recorded  in  that  simple  and  artless 
 manner  which  cannot  fail  to  affect  the 
 heart.  It  exhibits,  in  the  conduct  of  a  ve¬ 
 nerable  old  man,  an  example  highly  wor¬ 
 thy  of  the  imitation  of  those,  who,  like 
 him,  are  drawing  near  to  the  conclusion 
 of  life. 
 
 The  conspiracy  which  Absalom  had  form¬ 
 ed,  had  obliged  David  to  fly  from  Jeru¬ 
 salem.  During  this  season  of  distress,  Bar- 
 
 A  a  4  zillai 
 
376  SERMON  XXI. 
 
 zillai,  the  Gileadite,  had  generously  minis¬ 
 tered  to  his  necessities.  Absalom  being 
 now  dead,  and  his  arrriy' totally  defeated, 
 David  was  returning  victorious  to  the  holy 
 city.  As  an  expression  of  gratitude  to  Bar- 
 zillai  for  the  kindness  which  he  had  lately 
 received  from  him,  David  invites  this  aged 
 servant  to  accompany  him  to  Jerusalem, 
 that  there  he  might  share  with  himself  in 
 all  the  comforts  which  a  palace  could  afford. 
 Barzillai  declines  the  proposal,  alleging,  that 
 he  was  no  longer  in  a.  condition  to  dis¬ 
 charge  the  duties,  or  fo  relish  the  pleasures 
 of  a  court ;  and  that  it  became  not  one, 
 whose  days  were  drawing  near  to  their 
 close^  to  enter  on  a  state  "of  life  to  which 
 he  had  hitherto  been  a  stranger.  How  long 
 have  I  to  livej  that  1  should  go  up  with  the 
 king  to  Jerusalem  ?  I  am  this  day  fourscore 
 years  old  ;  and  can  I  discern  between  good 
 and  evil  ?  Can  thy  sei'vant  taste  what  I  eat 
 or  w  hat  I  drink  ?  Ca7i  I  hear  any  more  the 
 voice  of  singing  men  and  singing  women  ^ 
 wherefore,  then,  shoidd  thy  servant  he  yet  a 
 burden  unto  my  lord  the  king  f  I  will  go  a 
 little  Way  over  Jordan  with  the  king :  but 
 let  thy  sei'imit,  I  pray  theej  turn  back  again, 
 
 6  that 
 
SERMON  XXL 
 
 377 
 
 that  I  may  die  in  mine  own  city,  mid  be 
 buried  by  the  grave  of  my  father,  and  of  my 
 mother. 
 
 { There  was  still,  however,  another  favour 
 which  Barzillai  had  to  entreat  of  the  king. 
 Though  he  considered  the  pursuit  of  world* 
 ly  preferment  as  unsuitable  to  his  own  de¬ 
 clining  years,  yet  he  had  a  son  whose  suc¬ 
 cess  and  happiness  he  was  tenderly  soli¬ 
 citous  to  promote  ;  who  was  capable  of 
 sustaining  the  fatigues  and  cares  of  active 
 life;  whom  the  bounty  of  his  royal  master 
 naight  advance  to  distinction  and  useful¬ 
 ness  ;  and  who  5vas  qualified  to  relish  the 
 pleasures  which  he  himself  could  enjoy  no 
 more,  -y  Behold,  saith  he,  thy  servant  Chiin^ 
 ham  ;  let  him  go  over  with  my  lord  the  king, 
 and  do  untQ  kirn  whatever  shall  seem  good 
 unto  thee.,  .David  complied  with  the  re¬ 
 quest,  and  carried  Chimham  along  with 
 him  to  Jerusalem,  to  enjoy,  in  the  favour 
 of 'a  generous  prince,  the  fruits  of  his  fa¬ 
 ther’s  virtues.  Such  is  the  history,  from 
 which  I  shall  now  endeavour  to  derive  some 
 useful  lessons,^  addressed  mpre  especially  to 
 those  who  are  in  the  decline  of  life. 
 
 I.  It 
 
S78 
 
 SERMON  XXL 
 
 I.  It  is  the  duty  of  the  aged  to  meditate 
 seriously  on  death  as  an  event  that  must 
 soon  befal  them.  This  view  of  his  condi¬ 
 tion  was  familiar  to  the  mind  of  Barzillai ; 
 and  we  find,  that,  in  the  case  before  us,  it 
 had  its  proper  influence  on  his  conduct. 
 How  long  have  I  to  livcy  that  I  should  go  iqo 
 with  the  kmg  to  Jerusalem  ? 
 
 Even  the  young  have  no  ground  to  flat¬ 
 ter  themselves  with  the  hope  of  a  long  con¬ 
 tinuance  on  the  earth ;  for  the  life  of  man, 
 limited  by  the  appointment  of  Heaven  to 
 the  term  of  a  few  fleeting  years,  is  daily 
 exposed  to  disasters  that  may  shorten  its 
 little  period.  The  chambers  of  the  dead 
 are  filled  with  captives  of  every  age ;  the 
 parent  survives  the  child ;  and  they  who 
 fancy  themselves  most  secure,  are  some¬ 
 times  the  first  to  fall.  There  is  not  a  mo¬ 
 ment  beyond  the  present  which  the  most 
 vigorous  can  call  their  own. 
 
 There  is  this  difference,  however,  be¬ 
 tween  the  condition  of  the  young  and  of 
 the  old.  If  the  former  sometimes  amuse 
 themselves  with  the  prospecf  of  the  years 
 that  are  to  come,  it  is  possible,  at  least,  that 
 they  may  attain  the  wished-for  period,  with¬ 
 out 
 
SERAION  XXL 
 
 379 
 
 out  transgressing  the  ordinary  bounds  which 
 are  assigned  to  human  life.  But  the  latter 
 have  not  this  apology  to  .plead.  The  days 
 of  their  years  are  threescore  years  and  ten  ; 
 they  have  already  arrived  at  the  last  stage 
 of  their  pilgrimage ;  and  every  thing  serves 
 to  admonish  them,  that  the  time  of  their 
 departure  draweth  nigh.  A  few  instances, 
 indeed,  may  be  found  of  men  whose  days 
 have  been  prolonged  beyond  the  usual  li¬ 
 mits  ;  but  the  wonder  which  such  instances 
 excite,  reminds  us  how  rare  they  are.  Con¬ 
 sider,  then,  my  aged  friends,  how  few  re¬ 
 main  of  those  who  were  your  companions 
 in  the  beginning  of  life.  In  the  circle  in 
 which  you  have  lived,  you  have  seen  a 
 whole  generation  removed  in  succession 
 from  their  place  ;  your  children,  it  may  be, 
 your  children’s  children,  have  gone  before 
 you  to  the  grave ;  and  from  their  tomb  a 
 voice  is  heard,  admonishing  you  to  prepare 
 for  an  event  against  which  even  the  young 
 are  not  secure,  but  which  cannot  be  distant 
 from  the  aged. 
 
 Your  own  infirmities,  also,  it  may  be, 
 administer  to  you  their  melancholy  coun¬ 
 sel.  The  emissaries  of  your  last  enemy 
 
 have 
 
SERMON  XXL 
 
 3  SO 
 
 have  already  begun  their  assaults ;  and  your 
 feeble,  shattered  frame  is  no  longer  able  to 
 withstand  them.  Your  bodies  bend  to¬ 
 wards  the  dust  to  which  you  must  soon  re^- 
 turn ;  the  fabric  which  was  erected  only 
 for  a  season,  totters  under  its  own  weight ; 
 and  the  next  blast  may  overthrow  it. 
 
 How  many  important  lessons  is  this  con¬ 
 sideration  fitted  to  convey !  Let  it  teach 
 you  to  moderate  your  attachment  to  the 
 :imusements  and  pleasures  of  the  world. 
 
 •  11.  This  is  the  second  lesson  which  we 
 
 derive  from  the  history  before  us. 
 
 Barzillai  knew  well  that  he  was  no  longer 
 in  a  condition  to  relish  the  gay  amusements 
 of  a  court.  1  am  this  day  fonrscoj^e  years 
 pld ;  and  can  I  discern  between  good  and 
 evil?  Can  thy  servant  taste  what  I  eat  or 
 what  1  drink  ?  Can  I  hear  any  more  the 
 voice  of  singing  men  and  singing  women? 
 Why^  then^  should  thy  sawant  he  yet  a  burden 
 to  my  lord  the  king  ? 
 
 How  just  a  reproof  doth  this  example  ad¬ 
 minister  to  the  folly  of  many  aged  persons, 
 who  pursue  the  pleasures  of  life,  with  an 
 eagerness,  which  even  youth  could  not  ex¬ 
 cuse  ! 
 
SERMON  XXL 
 
 381 
 
 cuse  ! — 1  mean  not,  iny  friends,  to  recom¬ 
 mend  that  gloomy,  peevish  spirit  which 
 the  aged  sometimes  discover,  which  renders 
 them  a  torment  to  therriselves,  and  an  op¬ 
 pression  to  all  who  are  around  them.  I 
 know  that  a  cheerful  temper  contributes,  at 
 once,  to  sweeten  and  to  adorn  the  decline 
 of  life.  When  your  advancing  years  ad¬ 
 monish  you  to  retire  from  the  business  of 
 the  world,  and  to  devolve  the  more  labori¬ 
 ous  duties  of  society  on  those  who  are  des¬ 
 tined  to  succeed  you;  if,  during  the  season 
 of  health  and  vigour,  you  have  performed 
 your  part  with  honour,  you  are  entitled 
 to  seek,  in  the  enjoyments  that  belong  to 
 the  season  of  infirmity,  the  reward  of  those 
 virtuous  exertions  to  which  you  have  con¬ 
 secrated  your  better  days. 
 
 All  pleasures,  however,  are  not  equally 
 suited  to  every  season  of  life.  The  joys  of 
 the  young  differ  from  the  joys  of  the  old, 
 as  the  noon-day  tumult  differs  from  the 
 stillness  of  the  evening  scene.  Irregular 
 and  vicious  pleasures  are  unsuitable  to  every 
 age.  They  stain  the  beauty  of  youth,  and 
 dishonour  the  hoary  head.  But  they  are 
 peculiarly  unsuitable  to  the  old.  '  We  pity 
 
 the 
 
382 
 
 SERMON  XXL 
 
 the  condition  of  the  youth  whom  inexperi¬ 
 ence  and  the  impetuosity  of  passion  have 
 betrayed  into  forbidden  paths  ;  we  view  his 
 wanderings  with  indulgence,  and  hope  that 
 maturer  years  may  recal  him  to  the  ways 
 of  virtue.  The  aged  libertine,  on  the  other 
 hand,  whose  vices  have  survived  the  pas¬ 
 sions  to  which  they  owed  their  birth,  hath 
 no  such  indulgence  to  expect.  His  charac¬ 
 ter  is  regarded  as  something  unnatural  and 
 monstrous.  He  is  an  object  of  abhorrence 
 to  the  good,  and  of  contempt  to  the  wicked 
 themselves.  There  are  even  many  inno¬ 
 cent  pleasures  which  accord  not  with  the 
 decline  of  life,  but  to  which  the  aged  some¬ 
 times  remain  attached  by  habit,  after  their 
 relish  for  thein  is  gone.  It  is  owing  to  this 
 influence  of  habit,  that  we  frequently  see 
 them  pursuing  the  amusements  of  the  world 
 with  all  the  levity  of  children  ;  continually 
 occupied  in  forming  what  they  term  parties 
 of  pleasure ;  labouring,  by  many  fruitless 
 arts,  to  revive  their  decayed  vivacity,  and 
 wasting  the  small  remains  of  their  strength 
 in  circles  that  can  please  them  no  more. 
 Ah  !  will  they  never  learn,  that  the  conso¬ 
 lations  which  their  condition  requires  are 
 
 not 
 
 3 
 
SERMON  XXL 
 
 383 
 
 not  to  be  found  in  scenes  like  these  ?  The 
 season  of  gaiety  is  past  >  that  flow  of  spirits 
 hath  subsided  which  gave  every  pleasure  its 
 relish ;  the  scenes  are  still  the  same,  but 
 fancy  no  longer  adorns  them ;  the  charm, 
 at  last  is  broken ;  and  there  remains  only 
 the  melancholy  remembrance  of  joys  that 
 shall  never  return.  If  they  say  that  such 
 scenes  delight  them,  it  is  mere  affectation. 
 Their  looks  themselves  betray  them.  Their 
 eyes  see  not;  their  ears  hear  not  as  before; 
 and  they  only  afflict  their  age,  while  they 
 labour  to  renew  their  youth — No,  my  aged 
 friends,  if  your  souls  languish  for  pleasure, 
 seek  it  not  in  scenes  like  these.  I  will  tell 
 you  where  pleasure  is  to  be  found.  With¬ 
 draw  yourselves  by  degrees  from  the  world; 
 retire  into  your  own  hearts,  and  seek  tliat 
 feacG  of  God  which  passeth  all  understand¬ 
 ing — that  peace  which  the  world  cannot  give, 
 and  which  the  world  cannot  take  away. 
 
 Miserable,  indeed,  are  the  declining  years 
 of  that  man  from  whom  this  source  of  plea¬ 
 sure  is  shut  up.  But  for  the  righteous  there 
 are  consolations  in  store.  The  review  of  a 
 useful  life ;  the  testimony  of  an  approving- 
 conscience,  and  the  favour  of  that  Almighty 
 
 Being 
 
384 
 
 SKIIMON  XXL 
 
 r>eing  whose  providence  hath  been  their 
 guide  in  their  pilgrimage :  these  are  the 
 pleasures  reserved  for  the  righteous ;  plea¬ 
 sures  which  decay  not  as  their  years  ad¬ 
 vance  ;  pleasures  which  can  elevate  the 
 drooping  spirit,  and  rekindle  the  light  of 
 joy  in  the  face  of  age.  Nor  is  it  in  the 
 sanctuary  of  religion  alone  that  the  joys  of 
 the  aged  are  to  be  found.  There  are  even 
 many  worldly  pleasures  to  which  they  may 
 innocently  resign  their  hearts.  But  it  is 
 not  in  the  giddy  circle  of  the  gay,  the 
 fashionable,  and  the  dissipated,  that  these 
 pleasures  are  to  be  enjoyed.  It  is  in  the 
 seenes  of  domestic  life,  in  the  midst  of  their 
 families  and  their  friends,  with  their  chil¬ 
 dren  and  their  children’s  children,  that  the 
 pleasures  of  the  aged  are  to  be  found. 
 
 These  are  real  joys,  which  relax  without 
 corrupting  the  mind ; — -joys  which  reach 
 the  heart,  which  awaken  many  a  pleasing 
 remembrance,  and  open  many  an  enliven¬ 
 ing  prospect,  even  in  the  decline  of  life. 
 Here  you  will  find  the  compassion  which 
 your  growing  infirmities  require.  Here  are 
 those  whose  infancy  you  have  cherished, 
 —whom  }  oil  have  guided  through  the  paths 
 
 of 
 
SERMON  XXL 
 
 385 
 
 of  youth, — whose  gratitude  your  kindness 
 hath  secured, — who  will  vie,  with  ambitious 
 affection,  to  perform  to  you  every  tender 
 office, — who  will  uphold  your  faultering 
 steps,  and  smooth  the  pillow  for  your  head  ; 
 nor  suffer  your  name  to  be  forgotten,  when 
 they  shall  have  closed  your  eyes  in  peace.- 
 Here  you  may  mingle  with  those  who  love 
 you,  in  all  the  gaiety  of  innocent  amuse¬ 
 ment,  and  forget  the  miseries  of  age,  while 
 you  share  in  the  joys  of  youth.  In  compari¬ 
 son  of  such  heartfelt  pleasures,  how  poor  are 
 the  enjoyments  of  those,  who  seek  the  hap¬ 
 piness  of  their  declining  years,  in  the  scenes 
 of  debauchery  and  riot;  or  sit,  with  ghastly 
 visage,  in  the  place  of  public  amusement,  to 
 gaze  at  the  parting  forms  of  joys  that  have 
 sickened  to  their  view  !  Remember,  how¬ 
 ever,  that  these  pleasures  are  reserved  as  the 
 reward  of  virtue  and  usefulness.  Wealth  can¬ 
 not  purchase  them  for  its  possessor.  If  your 
 lives  have  been  barren  of  beneficence,  your 
 old  age  must  be  destitute  of  the  comforts 
 which  flow  from  gratitude  and  love.  There 
 can  hardly  be  conceived  a  situation  more  for¬ 
 lorn  and  wretched,  than  that  of  an  old  man, 
 whose  avarice  Lath  left  him  without  a  friend. 
 
 B  b  His 
 
SERMON  XXL 
 
 His  fortune,  indeed,  may  procure  for  him 
 the  interested  attentions  of  those,  who  can 
 be  mean  enough  to  practise  on  his  weak¬ 
 ness,  and  who  hope  to  be  benefited  by  his 
 death.  But  where  shall  he  find  those  tender 
 offices, — ^that  genuine,  affectionate  sympa¬ 
 thy,  which  alone  can  solace  the  heart  ?  Alas ! 
 he  hath  lost  the  opportunity  of  providing 
 for  himself  this  precious  consolation.  As 
 in  his  lifetime  he  hath  done  good  to  no 
 one ;  in  the  dap  of  his  infirmity  he  shall 
 languish  unpitied  ;  nor  shall  a  tear  be  shed 
 for  his  departure. 
 
 This  leads  me,  to  consider  another  lesson, 
 which  we  derive  from  the  history  before  us. 
 
 IIL  From  this  history  we  learn,  that  it 
 is  the  duty  of  the  old  to  promote  the  hap¬ 
 piness  of  the  young. 
 
 Though  Barzillai  declined  the  invitation 
 to  accompany  the  king  to  Jerusalem,  as  un¬ 
 suitable  to  his  advanced  years,  he  had  a  son 
 who  was  eapable  of  discharging  the  duties, 
 and  relishing  the  pleasures  of  a  court,  and 
 whom  he  was  desirous  to  recommend  to  the 
 attention  and  munificence  of  his  royal  mas¬ 
 ter.  said  he,  thy  sei^nt  Chimham^ 
 
 »  let 
 
387 
 
 SERMON  XXL 
 
 let  him  go  over  with  my  lord^  the  kingy  and 
 do  unto  him  whatever  shall  seem  good  unto 
 theei  It  is,  indeed,  the  duty  of  the  aged,  to 
 exercise  their  counsel  and  authority  in  re¬ 
 straining  the  vices  of  the  young ;  to  keep 
 them  at  a  distance  from  every  scene  that 
 might  tend  to  corrupt  their  hearts  ;  and  to 
 guard  them  against  such  excessive  indul¬ 
 gence,  even  in  innocent  pleasures,  as  might 
 interfere  with  the  attention  which  they  owe 
 to  the  more  important  concerns  of  life  : — 
 and,  perhaps,  in  the  present  state  of  society^ 
 it  may  be  more  necessary  to  caution  those, 
 to  whom  the  care  of  youth  is  intrusted,  a- 
 gainst  the  extreme  of  indulgence,  than  a- 
 gainst  that  of  severity.  Even  here,  how¬ 
 ever,  there  certainly  may  be  an  extreme. 
 Avarice  and  peevishness  of  temper,  are  vices 
 to  which  the  aged  are  prone.  Their  Own 
 sensibility  is  blunted;  the  liveliness  of  their 
 spirits  is  exhausted ;  and  now  that  they  have 
 lost  their  relish  for  the  pleasures  of  former 
 days,  they  are  disgusted  with  the  gaiety  of 
 the  world,  and  condemn  the  most  inno¬ 
 cent  amusements  of  those  who  are  entering 
 on  life,  as  marks  of  extravagance  and  folly, 
 
 fibs  !.-v  •  -  But 
 
388 
 
 SERMON  XXL 
 
 But,  remember,  my  aged  friends,  that 
 it  was  not  always  thus  with  you ;  recal  your 
 former  feelings ;  think  how  it  would  have 
 hurt  your  youthful  minds,  to  have  been 
 subjected  to  the  same  restraints  which  you 
 now  impose  on  others,  and  allow  to  the 
 rising  generation  the  pleasures  which  be¬ 
 long  to  their  years  ;  pleasures  which  once 
 you  claimed,  though  now  you  are  unable 
 to  enjoy  them. 
 
 The  desire  of  pleasure  is  natural  to  the 
 young,  and  undue  severity  serves  only  to 
 increase  it.  Their  fancies  paint  the  enjoy¬ 
 ments  from  which  you  unnecessarily  debar 
 them,  in  colours  far  more  attracting  than 
 they  possess  in  real  life  :  and  as  the  restraint 
 which  you  now  impose  on  them,  must  at 
 last  infallibly  be  broken,  if  they  shall  find 
 that  it  hath  been,  in  any  respect,  unreason¬ 
 able,  there  is  a  danger,  that  this  discovery 
 may  lead  them  to  despise  every  other  re¬ 
 straint.  There  are  not  wanting  instances 
 of  many,  who,  having  been  doomed  to 
 spend  their  youth  under  a  discipline  too  ri¬ 
 gorous  for  nature,  have  seized  the  first  mo¬ 
 ment  of  freedom  to  rush  on  the  forbidden 
 path  ;  and  trespassing  on  every  sacred  bar- 
 
SERMON  XXI. 
 
 389 
 
 rier,  have  abandoned  the  rest  of  their  days, 
 to  the  most  shameful  profligacy  and  vice. 
 It  is  surely  better,  my  friends,  that  with 
 your  concurrence  and  approbation,  the 
 young  should  enjoy  the  pleasures  which  are 
 innocent,  than  that  they  should  seek  them, 
 unknown  to  you,  in  the  hidden  ways  of  de¬ 
 ceit,  and  with  companions,  whose  licentious 
 example  may  eradicate  every  principle  of 
 virtue  which  you  have  laboured  to  implant 
 in  their  breasts. 
 
 By  indulging  them,  when  you  can  do  it 
 with  safety,  you  sweeten  the  discipline 
 which  you  prescribe  to  them,  and  give  ad¬ 
 ditional  weight  to  the  authority,  which,  at' 
 other  times,  you  may  find  it  necessary  to 
 exert.  When  they  perceive,  that  the  re¬ 
 straints  which  you  impose  on  them,  pro¬ 
 ceed,  not  from  a  harsh  or  covetous  temper, 
 but  from  a  real  regard  to  their  good,  they 
 will  view  you  as  the  guardians  of  their  hap¬ 
 piness,  and  comply  chearfully  with  the 
 counsels  which  your  experience  entitles  you 
 to  administer,  when  they  know  that  they 
 are  dictated  by  love. 
 
 There  are  many  ways  in  which  the  aged 
 may  contribute  to  advance  the  happiness  of 
 
 B  b  3  the 
 
390 
 
 SERMON  XXL 
 
 the  young.  By  forming  them  to  piety  and 
 virtue,  by  storing  them  with  useful  know^ 
 ledge,  and  training  them  to  industry  in  the 
 various  arts  of  life,  you  may  bring  them 
 forward,  by  degrees,  to  fill  those  stations  in 
 society,  from  which  you  yourselves  are  has¬ 
 tening  to  retire  ;  and  there  is  not  a  more 
 precious  legacy  which  you  can  bequeath  to 
 the  world,  at  your  departure,  than  a  race 
 of  virtuous  citizens,  reared  by  your  atten¬ 
 tion  and  beneficence,  who  may  supply  your 
 place  with  honour,  when  you  shall  be  ga¬ 
 thered  to  your  fathers. 
 
 It  sometimes  happens,  however,  that  the 
 sordid  avarice  of  the  old,  and  the  jealousy 
 which  they  are  apt  to  conceive  of  those 
 who  are  destined  to  succeed  them,  prevents 
 them  from  rendering  to  mankind  a  service 
 so  important  and  glorious.  Even  from 
 those  who  are  to  inherit  their  fortune,  they 
 will  often  withhold  the  necessary  expences 
 of  their  education  and  establishment  in  life. 
 The  thought  of  a  successor  is  painful  to 
 them ;  and  to  so  extravagant  and  unnatu¬ 
 ral  an  excess  doth  their  jealousy  sometimes 
 rise,  that  they  will  look  with  an  evil  eye  on 
 
 the 
 
SERMON  XXL 
 
 391 
 
 the  merit,  even  of  those  who  are  to  pre-r 
 serve  their  memory  on  the  earth. 
 
 We  do  not  admonish  you,  my  aged  friends, 
 to  withdraw  yourselves  entirely  from  the 
 active  duties  of  life,  Business,  pursued  with 
 moderation,  will  serve  to  keep  alive  your 
 spirits,  wdiile  it  affords  you  the  pleasing  re? 
 flection,  that  you  are  not  become  useless  to 
 the  world.  But  we  admonish  you  to  relieve 
 your  declining  years  from  a  burden  which 
 you  are  unable  to  bear,  and  to  resign  it 
 chearfully  to  those  who  have  strength  suf¬ 
 ficient  to  sustain  it.  The  offices  which  are 
 oppressive  to  you  will  be  better  perfoa'med 
 by  others  ;  nor  will  you  shorten  your  own 
 days  on  earth,  by  devolving  a  portion  of 
 your  labours  on  them.  On  the  contrary, 
 their  assistance  will  enable  you  to  enjoy  the 
 ease  which  your  infirmities  require. 
 
 We  do  not  admonish  you  to  divest  your¬ 
 selves  of  your  fortune,  and  to  become  de¬ 
 pendent,  in  the  close  of  life,  on  those  whom 
 you  have  chosen  to  succeed  you.  This 
 might  neither  be  prudent  for  you,  nor  pro¬ 
 fitable  for  them ;  but  we  admonish  you  to 
 treat  them  with  generosity.  Nothing  sure¬ 
 ly  can  be  more  unreasonable,  than  to  save 
 
 B  b  4  from 
 
392 
 
 SERMON  XXL 
 
 from  their  present  necessities,  what  already, 
 perhaps,  you  have  bequeathed  to  them  ; 
 and  to  force  those,  whom  you  are  labour¬ 
 ing  to  enrich,  to  sigh  for  the  hour  of  your 
 departure.  What  you  give  to  them  now, 
 they  will  receive  as  a  mark  of  affection ; 
 what  you  leave  to  them,  they  will  consider 
 as  given,  only  because  you  could  no  longer 
 withhold  it ;  and  it  is  better  to  enjoy  their 
 gratitude,  while  yet  you  are  capable  of  en¬ 
 joying  it,  than  to  preserve  for  them  an  un¬ 
 broken  treasure,  till  you  shall  transmit  to 
 them  your  wealth  with  your  name. 
 
 This  period  will  soon  arrive ;  prepare  to 
 meet  it  with  resignation.  Review  the  pro¬ 
 gress  of  your  lives.  If  they  have  been  spent 
 in  innocence  and  virtue,  yield  your  souls  to 
 the  joy  which  the  review  is  fitted  to  afford. 
 But  if  they  appear  to  be  barren  of  improve¬ 
 ment,  be  persuaded,  now  at  least,  to  awaken 
 from  your  fatal  negligence,  and  labour  to 
 redeem  the  time.  In  your  ca^e,  my  friends, 
 there  is  no  pretext  for  delay.  The  morn¬ 
 ing  and  the  noon  of  life  have  long  ago  pass¬ 
 ed  over  your  heads ;  the  sun,  which  hath 
 just  gone  down,  proclaims  that  your  day 
 is  closed  ;  and  though  the  beams  which  he 
 
 still 
 
SERMON  XXL 
 
 393 
 
 still  sends  forth,  may  gild  your  evening 
 for  a  while,  yet  they  are  the  certain  prelude 
 to  that  night  of  darkness  whose  shades  be¬ 
 gin  to  involve  you.  0  that  men  were  wise, 
 that  they  understood  this,  that  they  would 
 consider  their  latter  end. 
 
 To  contemplate  death  as  approaching, 
 and  yet  to  contemplate  it  without  dismay, 
 is  the  mark  of  true  greatnfess  of  soul.  But 
 it  is  the  attainment  of  those  only  who  make 
 death  familiar  to  their  minds,  and  study 
 duly  to  prepare  for  it.  Such  was  the  at¬ 
 tainment  of  Barzillai :  he  saw  that  his  life 
 was  now  drawing  near  to  its  conclusion  ; 
 he  viewed  it  as  the  gift  of  God  ;  he  had 
 studied  carefully  to  improve  it ;  and  he  was 
 ready  to  resign  it,  without  a  murmur,  when 
 the  destined  hour  should  arrive.  To  his  son 
 he  had  transferred  the  world,  with  all  its 
 cares,  and  its  pleasures.  He  had  only  one 
 earthly  wish  for  himself,  that  he  might  die 
 in  his  own  city,  and  be  buried  by  the  grave 
 of  his  father,  and  of  his  mother.  There  is 
 something  inimitably  tender  in  this  last  de¬ 
 sire  of  his  heart.  We  cannot  divest  our¬ 
 selves  of  the  thought,  that  in  death  we  shall 
 be  conscious  of  our  situation.  We  wish  to 
 
 be 
 
SERMON  XXI. 
 
 3!)4 
 
 be  united,  even  in  the  grave,  with  those 
 whom  we  have  loved  on  earth  ;  and  fancy, 
 that  in  this  dreary  mansion,  our  repose 
 shall  be  sweeter  and  more  peaceful,  if  our 
 dust  be  mingled  with  theirs. 
 
 These  feelings,  my  aged  friends,  accord 
 with  the  immortality  of  your  nature.  Let 
 them  serve  to  reconcile  you  to  your  fate. 
 The  world  in  which  you  live,  is  inhabited 
 by  a  race  whom  you  know  not.  It  is  the 
 grave  that  is  the  dwelling  of  your  fathers, 
 and  of  those  whom  you  loved  in  your 
 youth.  It  is,  indeed,  a  dark  abode ;  but  it 
 shall  not  detain  you  for  ever.  Your  Saviour, 
 who  inhabited  it  before  you,  hath  assured 
 you,  that  it  shall  not  detain  you.  When 
 the  morning  of  the  resurrection  shall  dawn, 
 you  shall  rise  from  the  bed  of  death,  array¬ 
 ed  in  celestial  glory,  to  mingle  with  the 
 spirits  of  the  just,  and  to  enjoy  the  reward 
 of  your  obedience  through  a  life  that  shall 
 never  end.  Wherefore  let  your  hearts  be  glad^ 
 — let  your  glory  rejoice, — let  your  bodies, 
 also,  rest  in  hope.  Amen. 
 
 ON 
 
ON  THE  ADVANTAGES  OF  AFFLICTION. 
 
 SERMON  XXII. 
 
 PSALMS,  CXIX.  71. 
 
 It  is  good  for  me  that  I  have  been  afflicted. 
 
 We  are  all  naturally  averse  to  suffering ; 
 and  yet  it  is  an  unquestionable  truth,  that 
 the  wisdom  and  goodness  of  God  are  dis¬ 
 played  in  the  sufferings  which  we  endure, 
 as  well  as  in  the  comforts  which  we  enjoy. 
 David  acknowledges  this  truth  in  the  pas¬ 
 sage  which  I  have  now  read ;  and  I  shall  en¬ 
 deavour,  through  the  divine  assistance,  to 
 confirm  the  doctrine  in  the  text,  by  point¬ 
 ing  out  to  you  some  of  the  advantages, 
 which  the  afflictions  of  human  life  are  cal¬ 
 culated  to  yield  to  the  faithful. 
 
 I.  In 
 
396 
 
 SERMON  XXIL 
 
 I.  In  the  first  place ;  they  awaken  us  to 
 serious  thought. 
 
 The  want  of  consideration  is  one  of  the 
 most  fruitful  sources  of  human  guilt.  There 
 are  few  men  so  totally  lost  to  every  virtuous 
 principle,  as  to  abandon  themselves  delibe¬ 
 rately  to  the  practice  of  what  they  know  to 
 be  wrong.  If  their  conduct  be  disgraced  by 
 folly,  or  stained  by  vice;  it  is  not  that  they 
 have  calmly  determined  to  renounce  every 
 better  principle,  to  despise  the  admonitions 
 of  conscience,  and  to  trespass  on  every  sacred 
 
 obligation  ;  but  they  seldom  view  their  be¬ 
 haviour  in  a  serious  light.  Immersed  in 
 the  business  or  the  amusements  of  the 
 world,  they  follow  with  headlong  pace  the 
 calls  of  interest  or  passion,  while  their  duty 
 and  the  consequences  of  their  conduct  hard¬ 
 ly  ever  occur  to  their  thoughts. 
 
 Now,  an  uninterrupted  train  of  prosperi¬ 
 ty  is  apt  to  increase  this  levity  of  mind. 
 While  affluence  furnishes  us  with  all  the 
 outward  comforts  of  life,  and  health  invites 
 us  to  taste  the  pleasures  which  are  scattered 
 around  us,  our  dwellings  are  crowded  with 
 those  whom  we  call  our  friends,  who  come 
 to  pay  their  homage  to  our  fortune,  to  flat¬ 
 ter 
 
SERMON  XXII. 
 
 397 
 
 ter  the  vanity  of  our  hearts,  and  to  share  in 
 the  various  enjoyments  which  our  riches  en¬ 
 able  us  to  procure.  One  frivolous  engage¬ 
 ment  is  immediately  followed  by  another ; 
 amusement  succeeds  to  amusement,  and 
 pleasure  to  pleasure.  Sober  reflection  is 
 banished.  Amidst  the  enjoyments  which 
 our  situation  affords,  the  obligations  which 
 it  imposes  are  forgotten  ;  and  our  thought¬ 
 less,  dissipated  minds,  are  betrayed  into  a 
 thousand  vices,  of  which  we  remain  entirely 
 unconscious,  and  which,  therefore,  we  do 
 not  strive  to  correct.  How  often  have  we 
 occasion  to  lament  the  intoxicating  influ¬ 
 ence  of  prosperity,  while  we  behold  those 
 whom  nature  had  endowed  with  the  best 
 and  most  amiable  dispositions,  corrupted  by 
 the  very  circumstance  which  should  have 
 added  a  lustre  to  their  virtues  ;  and  render¬ 
 ed  useless  or  destructive  to  society,  by  means 
 of  those  outward  advantages,  which  adding 
 fuel  to  their  passions,  and  engaging  them 
 in  a  constant  round  of  vain  or  vicious  pur¬ 
 suits,  have  banished  from  their  minds  every 
 nobler  object,  and  disqualified  them  for 
 every  serious  thought. 
 
 To 
 
sps  SERMON  XXII. 
 
 To  such  persons,  it  is  of  the  mercies  of 
 God,  that  adversity  visits  their  abode  ;  for 
 how  many  useful  reflections  arise  in  the 
 hour  of  sorrow  !  When,  by  an  unexpected 
 reverse  of  fortune,  we  are  deprived  of  the 
 means  of  pleasures  in  which  we  had  too 
 profusely  indulged  ;  when  the  companions 
 of  our  happier  years  forsake  us  ;  when  pain 
 and  disease  unfit  us  for  tasting  our  wonted 
 comforts,  and  forewarn  us  of  that  awful  event 
 which  shall  dissolve  our  connection  with 
 the  earth  ;  on  a  sudden,  the  enchantment  is 
 broken ;  our  conduct,  to  which  we  had 
 not  hitherto  attended,  rises  in  review  before 
 us ;  in  their  real  colours  our  characters  are 
 revealed  ;  virtue  and  vice  are  exhibited  in 
 a  light  in  which  we  had  not  viewed  them 
 before,  and  our  souls,  awakened  from  the 
 dream  of  dissipation,  commune  seriously 
 with  themselves.  I  have  tasted  of  the 
 blessings  of  life  ;  have  I  studied  to  im* 
 “  prove  them  aright  ?  My  health,  my  ta- 
 lents,  my  fortune,  have  they  been  conse- 
 “  crated  to  the  service  of  God  ?  have  they 
 been  employed  for  tlie  benefit  of  my  bre- 
 “  thren  ?  Now  I  am  bereft  of  ray  comforts ; 
 ‘‘  hath  the  Almighty  removed  them  in  his 
 
 ‘‘  anger  ? 
 
SEIiMON  XXit 
 
 399 
 
 anger?  I  must  soon  depart  from  the  world ; 
 
 “  can  I  render  my  account  with  joy  ?  Can  I 
 “  hope  to  share  in  the  reward  which  is  re- 
 “  served  for  the  faithful  and  the  good  ?’’ 
 How  many  opportunities  neglected, — how 
 many  advantages  abused, — how  many  vices 
 committed^  now  occur  to  fill  us  with  re¬ 
 gret  !  What  virtuous  resolutions  are  formed ! 
 If  God  would  listen  to  our  prayers,  and  re¬ 
 store  to  us  our  former  comforts,  how  differ¬ 
 ent  a  course  would  we  pursue  !  With  what 
 eagerness  would  we  labour  to  correct  the 
 iniquities  which  we  now  bewail !  How  di¬ 
 ligently  would  we  strive  to  discharge  the 
 duties  which  we  have  hitherto  omitted,  if 
 yet,  by  any  future  exertions,  we  might  re¬ 
 deem  the  time  which  we  have  lost,  and 
 provide  a  source  of  consolation  before  the 
 evil  day  arrive  !  Manasseh,  in  the  season  of 
 his  prosperity,  caused  the  inhabitants  of  Jeru¬ 
 salem  to  err  :  but  in  the  day  of  his  afflictioiif 
 he  besought  the  Lord,  and  humbled  hwiself 
 before  the  God  of  his  fathers.  Job  had  heard 
 of  the  Lord  by  the  hearing  of  the  ear :  but  in 
 the  hour  of  suffering,  his  eye  saw  him,  and  he 
 repented  in  dust  and  ashes.  It  is  good  for 
 me,  saith  David,  that  I  have  been  afflicted ; 
 
 for 
 
400 
 
 SERMON  XXII. 
 
 fo7'  before  I  was  afflicted,  I  went  astray  ;  but 
 now  I  have  learned  to  keep  thy  command^ 
 ments, 
 
 > 
 
 II.  In  the  second  place  ;  afflictions  serve  to 
 moderate  our  attachment  to  worldly  objects. 
 
 Much  of  the  virtue  and  happiness  of  life 
 depends  on  our  adjusting  the  strength  of 
 our  affections  to  the  real  worth  of  the  ob¬ 
 jects  by  which  they  are  excited.  If  we  es¬ 
 timate  too  highly  the  riches,  'the  honours, 
 or  the  pleasures  of  the  world,  by  this  false 
 judgment,  the  whole  system  of  our  conduct 
 will  be  perverted.  Hence  will  proceed  ex¬ 
 cessive  eagerness  in  the  pursuit,  excessive 
 indulgence  in  the  enjoyment,  and  excessive 
 regret  on  the  removal,  of  those  advantages 
 whose  value  our  fancies  have  magnified,  and 
 in  Vhich  we  place  our  supreme  delight. 
 From  this  fatal  source,  how  many  vices  and 
 miseries  arise  !  If  we  behold  the  covetous 
 sacrificing  their  integrity  and  honour  for 
 the  sake  of  some  pitiful  gain  ;  if  we  behold 
 'the  ambitious  following  the  phantom  of 
 power,  through  scenes  of  oppression  and 
 cruelty  ;  if  we  behold  the  votary  of  unlaw¬ 
 ful  pleasure  extinguishing  every  generous 
 2  principle 
 
SERMON  XXII. 
 
 401 
 
 principle  in  the  gulph  of  low  sensuality,  oi" 
 the  worldling  overwhelmed  with  unmanly 
 sorrow,  by  every  trivial  disappointment 
 which  he  sustains ;  is  it  not,  that  in  the 
 eyes  of  such  persons  as  these,  the  profits, 
 the  distinctions,  and  enjoyments  of  life,  are 
 clothed  with  a  thousand  imaginary  attrac¬ 
 tions  which  captivate  their  unwary  hearts  ? 
 In  the  day  of  our  prosperity,  it  is  in  vain 
 that  we  are  reminded  how  insufficient  those 
 objects  are  in  which  we  have  suffered  our 
 happiness  to  centre.  ‘While  fancy  spreads 
 her  colouring  around  them  ;  while  piassion 
 prompts  to  pursuit,  and  health  enlivens  bur 
 enjoyment ;  the  sober  admonitions  of  wis¬ 
 dom  are  heard  with  indifference  and  con¬ 
 tempt,  and  the  warnings  which  religion 
 gives  concerning  the  vanity  of  all  earthly 
 advantages,  are  regarded  as  the  complain¬ 
 ings  of  gloomy  and  peevish  spirits,  who  vi¬ 
 lify  pleasures  which  they  never  knew.  But 
 in  the  hour  of  adversity,  .our  imaginations 
 return  from  their  wanderings,  and  things 
 appear  as  they  are.  When  we  are  stretch- 
 .ed  on  the  bed  of  languishing,  oppressed  with 
 sickness,  or  racked  with  pain,  and  looking 
 around,  with  anxious  eye,  to  every  quarter 
 
 c  c  ffom 
 
40f2 
 
 SERMON  XXIL 
 
 from  which  comfort  may  be  derived  ;  of 
 what  avail  to  us  now  are  the  pleasures  which 
 we  are  unable  to  taste ;  the  honours  which 
 confess  themselves  insufficient  to  lift  the 
 drooping  head  ;  or  the  riches  which  cannot 
 procure  for  us,  even  a  momentary  respite 
 from  our  sufferings  ?  Miserable  comforters 
 are  they  all !  It  is  now  that  our  eyes  are 
 opened.  The  world  is  presented  to  our 
 view  in  all  its  native  emptiness.  We  per¬ 
 ceive  how  precarious  and  unsatisfying  those 
 enjoyments  are,  on  which  we  have  hitherto 
 placed  our  affections.  With  pity  we  be¬ 
 hold  the  inconsiderate  multitude  pursuing 
 a  thousand  airy  vanities  ;  building  their  hap¬ 
 piness  on  the  swimming  scene ;  and  sacri¬ 
 ficing  the  unspeakable  joys  of  virtue,  for  the 
 sake  of  those  uncertain  advantages,  of  which 
 the  most  trifling  accident  may  deprive  them, 
 and  which  can  afford  them  no  support  in 
 the  hour  when  they  stand  the  most  in  need 
 of  consolation.  Taught,  in  the  school  of 
 adversity,  how  to  estimate  the  objects  of 
 the  world,  we  return  to  the  business  of  life, 
 fortified  against  many  temptations  by  which 
 others  are  betrayed  into  guilt.  The  attrac¬ 
 tions  of  pleasure,  the  glare  of  wealth,  and 
 
 the 
 
SERMON  XXII. 
 
 403 
 
 the  splendour  of  power,  lose  much  of  their 
 influence  on  our  minds.  We  regard  them 
 as  fleeting  and  unsubstantial  forms,  which 
 we  will  no  longer  pursue  with  immoderate 
 care,  or  purchase  by  the  ruin  of  our  inte¬ 
 grity.  We  seek  them  only  in  subordina¬ 
 tion  to  higher  and  more  important  inte¬ 
 rests  ;  we  labour  to  establish  our  happiness 
 on  a  foundation  which  no  earthly  disaster 
 can  shake  ;  and  place  our  supreme  felicity 
 in  the  possession  of  that  inviolable  virtue, 
 which,  while  it  sweetens  the  joys  of  prospe¬ 
 rity,  prepares  a  consolation  for  the  evil  day. 
 We  are  no  longer  unduly  affected  by  any 
 of  the  events  of  life.  Success  doth  not 
 elate  us  above  measure,  nor  hath  disap¬ 
 pointment  power  to  overwhelm  us.  We 
 consider  the  uncertain  tenure  by  which  we 
 hold  all  our  earthly  comforts.  We  weep  as 
 though  we  wept  not ;  we  rejoice  as  though 
 we  rejoiced  not ;  we  use  this  worlds  as  not 
 abusing  it^  knowing  that  the  fashion  of  the 
 world  passeth  away. 
 
 III.  Afflictions  serve  to  exercise  and  dis¬ 
 play  our  virtues. 
 
 c  c  a  We 
 
 t 
 
404 
 
 SERMON  XXII. 
 
 We  approve  of  the  man  who  discharges 
 with  fidelity,  the  duties  of  a  prosperous  state. 
 If  he  enjoy  with  chearfulness  the  blessings 
 of  his  condition  ;  if  he  conduct  himself 
 with  condescension  towards  those  who  are 
 beneath  him,  and  perform  with  alacrity 
 those  offices  of  kindness  for  which  he  re¬ 
 ceives  the  reward  of  gratitude  and  love ;  we 
 acknowledge  that  he  acts  in  the  manner 
 that  becomes  him,  and  render  to  him  the 
 esteem  which  his  conduct  deserves ;  but 
 we  do  not  consider  him  as  entitled  to  any 
 high  degree  of  admiration.  His  virtues 
 seem  to  require  no  extraordinary  effort. 
 We  would  blush  to  think,  that  in  the  same 
 circumstances,  we  should  act  less  worthily 
 ourselves. 
 
 He  who  hath  never  felt  distress,  nor  dis¬ 
 appointment,  is  ignorant  of  his  own  real 
 character.  He  knows  neither  his  weakness, 
 nor  his  strength.  The  integrity,  which,  in 
 affluence,  he  maintains  inviolate,  might 
 yield  to  the  temptations  of  want.  The  be¬ 
 nevolence  which  he  exerts  so  readily,  while 
 it  procures  for  him  applause  and  affection, 
 might  be  checked  by  an  ill  requital,  or  by 
 tbe  misrepresentations  which  malice  circu¬ 
 lates 
 
SERMON  XXir. 
 
 405 
 
 lates  to  vilify  the  virtues  of  the  good  ;  and 
 the  serenity,  which  he  finds  it  so  easy  to 
 preserve,  while  every  thing  flourishes  around 
 him,  might  be  ruffled  by  the  blast  of  afflic¬ 
 tion,  and  give  place  to  peevishness,  and  dis¬ 
 content,  and  all  the  weakness  of  extrava¬ 
 gant  sorrow.  It  is  the  storm  that  tries  the 
 strength  of  the  vessel.  It  is  the  battle  that 
 tries  the  courage  of  the  warriour.  It  is  ad¬ 
 versity  that  proves  the  character,  and  shows 
 us  clearly  what  we  are.  It  is  the  man  whom 
 all  the  hardships  of  poverty  cannot  tempt 
 to  aught  that  is  dishonest ; — it  is  the  man 
 w'hose  generosity  triumphs  over  the  ingra¬ 
 titude  and  injustice  of  the  world ; — who 
 can  rest  in  the  consciousness  of  well-doing, 
 without  the  outward  rewards  of  virtue  ; — it 
 is  the  man  whose  magnanimous  soul  rises 
 above  the  misfortunes  of  life  ; — who,  in  the 
 midst  of  distress  and  disappointment,  main¬ 
 tains  the  tranquillity  of  his  mind,  and 
 blesses  God,  and  perseveres  in  the  practice 
 of  his  duty  :  this  is  the  man  whose  conduct 
 we  contemplate  with  admiration ;  whose 
 character  we  regard  as  more  than  human  ; 
 whose  integrity  appears  to  be  exalted  almost 
 beyond  the  reach  of  temptation,  and  whose 
 
 CCS  sufferings 
 
406 
 
 SERMON  XXII. 
 
 sufferings  seem  to  be  fully  compensated,  by 
 the  glorious  opportunity  which  they  afford 
 him,  of  displaying  the'  greatness  of  his  soul. 
 
 Nor  do  the  sufferings  of  life  serve  only 
 for  the  display  of  our  virtue.  They  contri¬ 
 bute,  also,  to  its  improvement.  Every 
 principle  in  the  human  mind  is  invigorated 
 by  frequent  exercise.  Resistance  and  op¬ 
 position  call  forth  the  powers  of  the  soul, 
 and  give  birth  to  generous  exertion.  Every 
 victory  which  we  obtain,  increases  our 
 strength  and  our  courage,  and  prepares  us 
 to  renew  the  conflict  with  greater  assurance 
 of  success,  till  by  degrees  our  characters  are 
 perfected,  and  our  virtues,  needing  no  more 
 to  be  exercised  in  the  school  of  affliction, 
 render  us  fit  inhabitants  of  those  regions 
 where  there  is  no  sorrowq  nor  crying,  nor 
 pain. 
 
 Murmur  not,  then,  ye  righteous,  under 
 the  sufferings  which  you  are  destined  to 
 endure,  but  rather  rejoice,  that  you  are  call¬ 
 ed  to  a  warfare  in  which  such  distinguished 
 honours  may  be  reaped.  It  is  by  affliction 
 that  God  proves  you,  and  finds  you  worthy 
 for  himself.  The  conflict,  indeed,  is  severe  ; 
 but  the  victory  is  proportionably  glorious, 
 
 and 
 
SERMON  XXir. 
 
 407 
 
 and  the  reward  proportionably  great.  Your 
 virtue  is  your  highest  interest ;  and  those 
 distresses,  by  which  your  virtues  are  exalt¬ 
 ed  and  displayed,  are,  in  truth,  the  blessings 
 of  your  condition. 
 
 But  it  is  not  merely  the  virtues  of  pa¬ 
 tience  and  self-command  that  our  sufferings 
 exercise  and  improve.  They  have  an  influ¬ 
 ence,  also,  on  the  benevolent  affections. 
 They  soften  and  humanize  the  heart,  and 
 dispose  us  for  all  those  offices  of  kindness 
 which  flow  from  sympathy  for  the  distresses 
 of  our  brethren. 
 
 The  insensibility  of  the  prosperous  to  the 
 sufferings  of  their  fellow-creatures,  hath 
 often  been  a  subject  of  complaint ;  and,  in¬ 
 deed,  there  is  something  in  the  nature  of 
 prosperity  which  tends  to  corrupt  the  heart. 
 That,  excessive  love  of  pleasure  which  it 
 cherishes  in  the  breasts  of  its  possessors,  and 
 which  it  furnishes  them  wdth  the  means  of 
 gratifying,  disposes  them  to  exclude  every 
 thought  that  can  occasion  the  smallest  in¬ 
 terruption  of  their  enjoyment.  They  turn 
 away  their  eyes  from  the  view  of  human 
 misery,  and  industriously  check  the  gene¬ 
 rous,  but  painful,  emotion  of  pity,  by  keep- 
 
 c  c  4  ing 
 
40S 
 
 SERMON  XXII. 
 
 ing  at  a  distance  from  the  scenes  which 
 might  excite  it.  Even  from  the  distresses 
 of  those  who  are  nearest  to  them,  they  will 
 sometimes  cruelly  retire,  abandoning  them 
 to  the  care  of  mercenary  domestics,  bereft 
 of  those  tender  offices  which  derive  their 
 sweetest  influence,  from  the  affection  with 
 which  they  are  performed. 
 
 It  is  not  surprising  that  the  sentiment  of 
 compassion  should  be  extinguished  in  the 
 breasts  of  those,  who,  by  hiding  themselves 
 from  the  afflictions  of  their  fellow-creatures, 
 deprive  it  of  its  proper  exercise,  and  labour 
 with  such  selfish  care  to  forget  that  there  is 
 wretchedness  on  the  earth.  If  we  would 
 form  our  minds  to  sympathy,  we  must  con¬ 
 template  more  nearly  the  sufferings  of  our 
 brethren ;  we  must  endeavour  to  form  a 
 distinct  and  lively  conception  of  their  mi¬ 
 series;  we  must  place  ourselves,  by  the 
 power  of  fancy,  in  the  same  circumstances 
 with  them,  and  transfuse  into  our  own 
 breasts  the  emotions  with  which  theirs  are 
 filled.  Now  this  is  an  effort  for  which  that 
 man  is  ill  prepared,  who  is  himself  a  stran¬ 
 ger  to  distress.  But  he  who  hath  passed 
 through  the  scene  of  suffering,  knows  what 
 1  the 
 
SERMON  XXIE 
 
 409 
 
 the  wretched  feel.  The  remembrance  of 
 his  own  afflictions,  aids  his  fancy  in  con¬ 
 ceiving  the  afflictions  which  others  endure. 
 He  beholds,  in  the  miseries  of  his  fellow- 
 creatures,  an  image  of  his  own  distress* 
 His  former  feelings  are  revived ;  and  his 
 soul  bleeds  afresh,  while  he  contemplates 
 the  sorrows  of  his  brethren.  Their  condi¬ 
 tion  is  brought  home  to  himself.  His  emo¬ 
 tions  mingle  with  theirs.  He  knows  how 
 precious  that  consolation  is  which  sympa¬ 
 thy  affords  to  the  wretched;  and  rejoices  to 
 perform  to  others  those  offices  of  compas¬ 
 sion  and  kindness,  of  which  experience  hath 
 taught  him  the  value.  To  this  principle 
 must  be  ascribed  a  circumstance  of  which 
 almost  every  person  will  be  conscious,  that 
 the  more  nearly  the  distresses  of  others  re¬ 
 semble  those  which  we  ourselves  have  en¬ 
 dured,  the  more  attentively  do  we  listen 
 to  the  history  of  their  miseries,  the  more 
 cordially  do  we  enter  into  their  feelings, 
 and  the  more  eager  do  we  show  ourselves 
 to  solace  and  relieve  them.  The  widow 
 knows  the  wound  which  the  affectionate 
 heart  receives  from  the  death  of  the  part- 
 aer  of  its  joy ;  and  he  who  hath  mourned 
 
 the 
 
410 
 
 SERMON  XXIL 
 
 the  loss  of  a  parent,  knows  what  compas¬ 
 sion  is  due  to  the  orphan.  To  this  princi¬ 
 ple  the  sacred  writers  frequently  refer,  in 
 their  exhortations  to  mutual  kindness.  Re- 
 member  those  that  are  in  bonds^  (saith  the 
 apostle,)  as  being  yourselves  bound  with 
 them ;  and  those  that  suffer  adversity,  as 
 being  also  in  the  body.  Thou  shalt  not  op~ 
 press  a  stranger.^  (saith  Moses  to  the  Jews,) 
 for  you  know  the  heart  of  a  stranger.,  for 
 you  yourselves  also  were  strangers  in  the 
 land  of  Egypt,  And,  to  assure  us  that  the 
 Saviour  in  whom  we  are  exhorted  to  trust, 
 is  touched  with  a  feeling  of  our  infirmities, 
 the  spirit  of  God  hath  declared,  that  Jesus 
 himself  hath  experienced  all  the  miseries 
 which  his  follower^  are  called  to  sustain. 
 The  fellowship  of  suffering  is  a  bond  of 
 affection  among  men  ;  and  our  benevolent 
 Creator  hath  ordained,  that  the  distresses  of 
 human  life  should  provide  an  alleviation 
 for  themselves,  by  forming  us  to  that  mu¬ 
 tual  compassion  which  is  the  choicest  balm 
 of  the  wretched. 
 
 IV.  Affliction  hath  a  natural  tendency 
 to  irpprove  our  pious  affections. 
 
 One 
 
SERMON  XXII. 
 
 411 
 
 One  would  imagine,  indeed,  that  pro¬ 
 sperity  were  the  season  most  favourable  to 
 the  exercise  of  piety.  When  Providence 
 smiles  most  graciously  on  our  lot ;  when 
 we  are  blessed  with  health,  and  honour, 
 and  abundance,  and  all  the  outward  means 
 of  felicity  ;  it  is  then  that  our  condition 
 calls  for  the  liveliest  gratitude  to  Heaven, 
 and  that  our  hearts  should  be  most  strongly 
 disposed  to  acknowledge  the  goodness  of 
 the  Almighty. 
 
 But,  alas  !  the  heart  of  man  is  seldom  af¬ 
 fected  as  it  ought  to  be  ;  for  it  is  then 
 chiefly  that  we  forget  our  Maker;  it  is  then 
 chiefly  that  God  is  not  in  all  our  thoughts. 
 Indulging  profusely  in  the  pleasures  which 
 his  bounty  hath  scattered  around  us,  by 
 these  our  affections  are  engrossed ;  our  minds 
 become  giddy  and  dissipated  ;  and  neither 
 leisure  nor  inclination  is  left  to  think  of 
 the  kind  hand  from  which  all  our  comforts 
 flow.  Strangers  to  want  and  misery,  and 
 fancying  that  our  happiness  is  secure,  we 
 no  longer  prefer  our  supplications  to  the 
 great  Disposer  of  events,  nor  offer  our  thanks¬ 
 givings  to  him  for  blessings  of  which  we 
 fear  not  the  removal^  We  have  found 
 
 other 
 
412 
 
 SERMON  XXIL 
 
 other  objects  of  trust,  and  Gods  of  earthly 
 origin.  Our  mountain  seems  to  stand  strong; 
 we  say  that  we  shall  not  be  movedy  and  re- 
 member  not  that  God  is  our  Rock,  and  the 
 7nost  high  God  our  Redeemer,  But,  in  the 
 day  of  affliction,  the  sentiment  of  piety  re¬ 
 vives.  When  the  fabric  of  our  felicity 
 falls,  we  perceive  whose  hand  it  was  that 
 supported  it,  and  whose  hand  it  is  that 
 alone  can  rear  it  anew.  We  feel  our  de¬ 
 pendence  on  that  Providence  which,  before, 
 we  had  neglected  to  acknowledge,  and  seek, 
 in  communion  with  God,  the  consolation 
 which  our  sufferings  require. 
 
 To  whom  else  can  we  go  }  When  the 
 world  hath  no  comfort  to  yield  ;  when  the 
 help  of  man  is  vain ;  when  the  followers  of 
 our  fortune  have  forsaken  us ;  and  when 
 even  the  friends  that  were  born  for  adver¬ 
 sity  can  only  mingle  their  grief  with  ours  ; 
 to  whom,  but  to  God  alone,  can  we  lift  our 
 languishing  eyes,  or  where,  but  in  the  secret 
 of  his  pavilion,  can  we  find  a  refuge  from 
 our  sorrow’s  ^  We  betake  ourselves  to  the 
 sanctuary  of  devotion,  and  relieve  our  bur¬ 
 dened  spirits,  by  pouring  them  out  to  the 
 blearer  of  prayer.  The  wisdom  and  the 
 
 goodness 
 
SERMON  XXir. 
 
 413 
 
 goodness  of  the  Almighty  become  a  delight¬ 
 ful  subject  of  coijitemplation.  Our  souls  are 
 prepared  for  the  exercise  of  faith,  and  trust 
 in  God;  and  we  cherish  these  pleasing  emo¬ 
 tions  as  the  choicest  balm  of  our  miseries* 
 It  is  in  sickness  that  the  child  experiences 
 all  the  tenderness  of  a  parent’s  heart,  and 
 receives  those  endearing  marks  of  affection 
 which  become  a  spring  of  future  obedience. 
 It  is  in  the  hour  of  adversity  that  our  hea¬ 
 venly  Father  is  revealed  to  us  in  all  the 
 riches  of  his  mercy  and  love.  The  com¬ 
 passion  with  which  he  beholds  our  suffer¬ 
 ings  ;  the  attention  with  which  he  listens 
 to  our  cries ;  the  consolations  with  which 
 he  sustains  our  spirits ;  and  the  deliverance 
 which  at  last^he  affords  us,  when  our  afflic¬ 
 tions  have  accomplished  their  destined  pur¬ 
 pose  ;  these  are  proofs  of  his  kindness,  which 
 make  a  deep  impression  on  our  minds ;  we 
 recal  them  afterwards  with  pleasure,  and 
 our  piety  kindles  at  the  thought.  1  will 
 love  the  Lord  because  he  hath  heard  the  voice 
 of  my  supplication  :  I  will  call  on  the  Lord 
 as  long  as  I  live.  How  precious.,  0  God,  are 
 thy  thoughts  towards  me!  therefore,  in  the 
 shadow  of  thy  wings  will  I  jjlace  my  trust. 
 
 V,  In 
 
414 
 
 SERMON  XXII. 
 
 V.  In  the  last  place,  the  afflictions  of  life 
 have  a  tendency  to  enliven  our  hope  of  im¬ 
 mortality. 
 
 Nature,  in  all  ages,  suggested  to  the  chil¬ 
 dren  of  men  that  this  life  is  not  the  whole 
 of  their  being ;  and  it  is  the  aim  of  the 
 religion  which  we  profess  to  confirm  this 
 suggestion  of  nature,  to  raise  our  souls  above 
 the  world,  and  to  fix  our  desires  and  affec¬ 
 tions  on  that  future,  higher  existence,  which 
 it  hath  disclosed  to  the  hopes  of  the  faith¬ 
 ful. 
 
 This  view  of  the  destination  of  man  is 
 fitted  to  have  a  salutary  influence  on  our 
 conduct.  It  is  a  view,  however,  into  which, 
 in  the  season  of  health  and  prosperity,  we 
 are  but  little  disposed  to  enter.  Surround¬ 
 ed  by  all  the  outward  advantages  of  life, 
 and  deeply  immersed  in  the  pleasures  which 
 these  enable  us  to  procure,  we  seldom  ex¬ 
 tend  our  thoughts  beyond  the  scene  of  our 
 present  enjoyments ;  our  souls  cleave  to  the 
 earth,  and  listen  with  indifference  to  that 
 voice  which  promises  immortality  to  man. 
 
 But  the  subject  which  prosperity  banish¬ 
 es  from  our  minds,  is  brought  near  to  us  in 
 the  hour  of  affliction.  When  we  are  re- 
 2  minded 
 
SERMON  XXIL 
 
 415 
 
 minded  by  bodily  disease,  that  here  ‘  we 
 have  no  certain  abode ;  when  we  are  op¬ 
 pressed  with  care  and  sorrow,  and  taught, 
 by  the  sufferings  which  we  endure,  that 
 it  is  in  vain  to  ^  look  for  permanent  hap¬ 
 piness  in  this  mingled,  transitory  state ; 
 our  souls  are  loosened  from  the  world,  and 
 we  languish  for  other  regions  where  rest 
 and  felicity  may  be  found.  This  is  the 
 natural  effect  of  every  affliction  that  is  in¬ 
 cident  to  the  human  condition.  But  there 
 are  some  of  the  sorrows  of  life  which  have 
 a  more  immediate  tendency  than  others  to 
 cherish  the  hope  of  immortality. 
 
 When  you  approach  the  bed  of  a  dying 
 friend,  and  see  that  the  help  of  man  is  vain, 
 and  mingle  your  tears  with  his,  and  listen 
 to  his  parting  words,  and  catch  his  last 
 melting  look  of  love,  your  hearts  are  un¬ 
 willing  to  admit  the  thought  of  a  final  se¬ 
 paration  ;  you  leave  the  earth  for  a  while, 
 and  follow  the  object  of  your  affection 
 through  the  dreary  vale  of  death,  and  seek 
 a  place  with  him  in  the  land  to  which  he 
 hath  gone.  In  a  season  so  interesting  as 
 this,  how  grateful  to  your  anxious  spirits  is 
 the  prospect  which  the  gospel  opens,  and 
 
 how 
 
416 
 
 SERMON  XXir. 
 
 how  reviving  that  celestial  voice,  which  as-^ 
 sures  you,  that  your  dead  shall  live !  The 
 doctrine  of  a  future  existence  is  no  longer 
 regarded  as  a  subject  of  cold  speculation ; 
 it  addresses  itself  to  the  tenderest  feelings 
 that  can  arise  in  the  human  breast ;  your 
 minds  are  prepared  to  yield  to  the  evidence 
 by  which  it  is  confirmed,  and  you  cherish 
 it  as  your  support  under  afflictions  which 
 admit  of  no  other  consolation.  Your  ima¬ 
 ginations  frequently  resort  to  the  abodes  of 
 the  virtuous  departed,  to  renew  your  con¬ 
 nection  with  the  friends  whom  death  hath 
 torn  from  your  embrace,  and  to  indulge 
 the  pleasing  hope  of  being  for  ever  united 
 to  them.  Henceforth,  your  conversation  is 
 in  heaven.  The  objects  of  futurity  become 
 familiar  to  your  minds ;  and  the  joys  of 
 your  Father’s  house,  occurring  frequently 
 to  your  thoughts,  exert  their  native  influ¬ 
 ence  in  solacing  you  amidst  the*  distresses 
 of  life,  and  sweetening  the  labours  of  obe¬ 
 dience. 
 
 Such  are  the  salutary  fruits  which  our 
 sufferings  are  fitted  to  yield.  They  awaken 
 us  to  serious  thought ;  they  moderate  our 
 attachment  to  \vorldly  objects  ;  they  exer¬ 
 
 cise 
 
SERMON  XXII. 
 
 417 
 
 cise  and  display  our  virtues  ;  they  animate 
 our  piety  to  God,  and  enliven  our  hope  of 
 immortality.  What  a  delightful  view  of 
 Providence  do  these  considerations  open ! 
 and  how  cheering  a  light  do  they  diffuse 
 over  the  darkest  dispensations  of  the  Al¬ 
 mighty.  Let  them  inspire  you  with  con¬ 
 tentment  of  mind,  and  submission  to  the 
 will  of  Heaven.  You  are  not  called  to  con¬ 
 template  God  merely  as  the  Sovereign  of 
 the  universe,  who  disposes  of  all  events  with 
 absolute  and  uncontrollable  sway,  nor  ex¬ 
 horted  to  submit  to  his  high  decrees,  only 
 because  your  resistance  would  be  fruitless. 
 Such  arguments  as  these  might,  indeed, 
 stifle  your  murmurs,  but  they  could  not 
 reconcile  you  to  your  fate.  The  Christian, 
 blessed  be  God,  hath  a  more  precious 
 source  of  consolation.  He  knows  that  all 
 the  distresses  which  befal  him  proceed  from 
 a  Father’s  hand.  He  regards  them  as  the 
 means  of  promoting  the  most  important 
 interests  of  his  nature.  He  yields  himself 
 to  the  will  of  Heaven,  not  only  with  resig¬ 
 nation,  but  with  joy ;  and  derives  an  occar 
 sion  of  gratitude  from  circumstances  in 
 which,  to  others,  even  patience  w^ould  be 
 
 n  d  a 
 
418 
 
 SERMON  XXII. 
 
 a  difficult  duty.  In  this  light,  my  friends, 
 accustom  yourselves  to  view  your  afflic¬ 
 tions.  Consider  the  day  of  adversity  as  a 
 season  sacred  to  improvement;  and  seek, 
 in  the  exercises  which  belong  to  it,'  a  relief 
 from  that  indolence  of  mind  which  leads 
 to  dejection  and  despair.  The  vacant  soul 
 becomes  a  prey  to  a  thousand  nameless  ills. 
 Withdrawn  from  every  other  employment, 
 it  is  left  to  brood  over  its  own  distresses, 
 with  anxious  and  tormenting  care.  Its 
 powers  are  thereby  enfeebled  ;  and  fancy, 
 active  only  in  increasing  the  sources  of  its 
 misery,  fills  it  with  many  a  direful  image, 
 and  distracts  it  by  many  a  causeless  terror. 
 But  the  man  who  regards  his  misfortunes 
 as  the  appointment  of  his  Father  in  heaven, 
 and  who  is  desirous  to  derive  from  his  af¬ 
 flictions  the  advantages  which  they  are  fit¬ 
 ted  to  yield,  will  fix  his  attention  on  the 
 duties,  rather  than  on  the  miseries  of  his' 
 condition.  The  faithful  discharge  of  these 
 will  furnish  an  occupation  to  his  mind 
 which  will  exclude  many  a  disquieting 
 thought,  and  be  of  more  avail,  in  enabling 
 him  to  preserve  the  tranquillity  of  his  spirit, 
 than  even  the  presence  of  a  friend. 
 
 Blessed 
 
SERMON  XXII. 
 
 419 
 
 Blessed  are  they  whom  God  thus  chasten^- 
 eth  and  teacheth  out  of  his  law ;  for  it  is 
 not  only,  in  this  passing  life,  that  they  shall 
 reap  the  fruits  of  their  sufferings.  The  vir¬ 
 tues  which  they  acquire  in  the  school  of 
 adversity,  are  their  preparation  for  a  hap¬ 
 pier  state ;  and  when  that  last  affliction 
 shall  come,  from  which  death  alone  shall 
 relieve  them,  they  shall  pass  into  those 
 peaceful  abodes,  where  distress  and  sorrow 
 shall  be  kitown  no  more,  where  they  shall 
 look  back,  with  unspeakable  delight,  on  all 
 the  hardships  wfflich  they  have  endured, 
 and  bless  the  wisdom  of  that  over- ruling 
 Providence  which  hath  conducted  them, 
 through  so  rugged  a  path,  to  the  mansions 
 of  their  Father’s  house. 
 
 This,  Christians,  is  the  joy  which  your 
 Master  hath  set  before  you,  to  support  you 
 amidst  all  the  miseries  of  your  pilgrimage ; 
 — a  joy,  for  the  sake  of  which,  he  shrunk 
 not  from  the  death  of  the  cross.  Consider 
 what  he  endured,  lest  you  should  be  weary 
 or  faint  in  your  minds ;  and  be  assured, 
 that  if  with  him  you  suffer,  with  him  you 
 shall  also  reign.  Think  of  the  unnumbered 
 multitude  who  stand  around  the  throne  of 
 
 D  d  2  God 
 
420 
 
 t 
 
 SERMON  XXII. 
 
 God,  arrayed  in  the  apparel  of  heaven, 
 carrying  the  badges  of  victory,  and  sing¬ 
 ing  the  song  of  praise  to  him  who  loved 
 them^  and  redeemed  them  by  his  blood.  These 
 are  they  who  have  come  out  of  great  tribu^ 
 lation.  Be  followers  of  them^  whoy  by  faith 
 and  yatiencoy  now  inherit  the  promises.  They 
 hunger  no  morey  neither  thirst  any  more^ 
 neither  doth  the  sun  light  on  themy  nor  any 
 heat ;  for  the  Lamby  who  is  in  the  midst  of 
 the  throney  hath  led  them  to  fountains  of 
 living  watery  and  God  hath  wiped  away  all 
 tears  from  their  eyes.  Amen, 
 
 ON 
 
ON  THE  GLAD  TIDINGS  OF  THE  GOSPEL. 
 
 SERMON  XXIII. 
 
 LUKE,  II.  10,  11. 
 
 jind  the  angel  said  unto  them,  Fear  not;  for  behold 
 I  bring  unto  you  good  tidings  of  great  joy, 
 •  which  shall  be  to  all  people.  For  unto  you  is 
 born  this  day,  in  the  city  of  David,  a  Saviour, 
 who  is  Christ  the  Lord. 
 
 W" HEN  the  Saviour  of  mankind  was  born 
 in  Judea,  his  birth  was  attended  with  no 
 external  splendour  which  could  mark  him 
 out  as  the  promised  Messiah.  The  business 
 of  life  was  proceeding  in  its  usual  train. 
 The  princes  of  the  world  were  pursuing 
 their  plans  of  ambition  and  vanity.  The 
 chief  priests  and  the  scribes,  the  interpreters 
 of  revelation,  were  amusing  the  multitude 
 with  idle  traditions.  Jesus  lay  neglected  in 
 
 X)  d  3  the 
 
422 
 
 SERMON  XXm. 
 
 the  stable  of  Bethlehem ;  and  the  first  rays 
 of  the  Sun  of  Righteousness  beamed  unno¬ 
 ticed  on  the  earth.  But  the  host  of  heaven 
 were  deeply  interested  in  this  great  events 
 They  contemplated ^  with  pleasure,  the 
 blessings  which  were  about  to  be  dispensed 
 to  men  ;  and  from  their  high  abode-  a  mes¬ 
 senger  descended  to  announce  the  dawn  of 
 that  glorious  day,  which  the  prophets  had 
 seen  from  afar^  and  were  glad.  The  persons 
 to  whom  these  tidings  of  joy  were  first 
 proclaimed,  were  not  such,  indeed,  as  the 
 world  would  have  reckoned  worthy  q|f  so 
 high  a  pre-eminence.  They  were  not  the 
 wise^  the  rich,  or  the  powerful  of  the  earth. 
 That  which  is  highly  esteemed  among  men, 
 is  often  of  little  value  in  the  sight  of  God. 
 The  rich  and  the  poor  are  alike  to  him. 
 He  prefers  the  simplicity  of  a  candid  mind 
 to  all  those  artificial  accomplishments  which 
 attract  the  admiration  of  the  giddy  multi¬ 
 tude.  It  was  to  the  shepherds  of  Bethlehem 
 that  the  angel  appeared, — to  men  obscure 
 and  undistinguished  among  their  brethren, 
 who,  in  the  silence  of  the  night,  were  fol¬ 
 lowing  the  duties  of  their  peaceful  occupa¬ 
 tion,  far  from  the  vices  of  courts,  and  the 
 ^  prejudices  ‘ 
 
SERMON  XXIII. 
 
 423 
 
 prejudices  of  the  synagogue.  But  the  man¬ 
 ner  in  which  the  birth  of  the  Messiah  was 
 announced,  was  suited  to  the  dignity  of  so 
 great  an  occasion.  At  midnight^  these 
 shepherds  were  tending  their  flocks,  and 
 all  was  dark  and  still  in  the  fields  of  Beth¬ 
 lehem  ;  when,  on  a  sudden,  a  light  from 
 heaven  filled  the  plain,  and  the  angel  of 
 the  Lord  stood  revealed  before  them.  So 
 unusual  an  appearance  struck  them  with 
 awe  :  they  knew  not  with  what  tidings 
 this  messenger  might  be  charged.  But  the 
 voice  of  the  angel  soon  quieted  their  fears; 
 it  was  a  message  of  mercy  with  which  he 
 was  intrusted.  Behold  I  bring  unto  you  good 
 tidings  of  great  joy^  which  shall  be  to  all 
 yeople.  For  unto  you  is  born  this  day^  in  the 
 city  of  David,  a  Saviour,  who  is  Christ  the 
 Lord. 
 
 To  all  kindreds  of  men  this  was  a  season 
 of  joy  ; — to  the  Jews  first,  and  afterwards 
 to  the  Gentiles : — to  the  Jews,  if  they  had 
 known  how  to  improve  their  advantages ; 
 for  now  was  the  time  come,  when  God  was 
 to  perfor?n  the  mercy  which  he  had  promised 
 to  their  fathers.  Now,  that  Deliverer  had 
 appeared  to  whom  all  their  prophets  bore 
 
 n  d  4  witness  j 
 
424 
 
 SERMON  XXIII. 
 
 witness  ;  who  was  to  rescue  them  from  the 
 yoke  of  bondage;  who  was  to  establish  with 
 them  a  better  covenant,  founded  on  better 
 promises ;  w^ho  was  to  interpret  the  mean¬ 
 ing  of  their  ceremonies ;  who  was  to  lead 
 them  to  the  favour  of  their  Maker  by  a 
 purer  dispensation  of  religion  ;  who  was  to 
 teach  them  the  truth  without  a  figure,  and 
 to  pour  the  uncorrupted  light  of  Heaven, 
 with  all  its  native  radiance,  into  their  minds. 
 Now,  that  Prince  was  born  in  their  land, 
 to  whom  the  gathering  of  the  nations  was 
 to  be ;  in  whom  the  Jewish  name  was  to 
 shine  with  a  lustre  hitherto  unknown ;  who 
 was  to  rear,  on  the  ruins  of  the  fallen  ta¬ 
 bernacle  of  David,  a  temple  for  all  kindreds 
 of  men,  and  the  triumph  of  whose  spiritual 
 kingdom,  was  to  consecrate  the  memory  of 
 their  fathers,  in  the  remotest  corners  of  the 
 earth. 
 
 To  the  Gentiles,  also,  this  was  a  season 
 of  joy ;  for  as  yet  the  Gentiles  had  walked 
 in  darkness,  ignorant  of  God,  ignorant  of 
 their  duty,  ignorant  of  their  final  destina¬ 
 tion.  The  great  body  of  the  people,  ne¬ 
 glected  by  the  philosophers  of  their  age, 
 were  left  to  wander  unenlightened  and 
 
 helpless, 
 
SERMON  XXIII. 
 
 425 
 
 helpless,  amidst  the  snares  and  the  sorrows 
 of  life,  enslaved  to  the  most  abject  super¬ 
 stitions,  conscious  of  guilty  fearful  of  ven¬ 
 geance,  and  seeking  the  peace  of  heaven 
 by  a  thousand  barbarous  rites,  which  only 
 betokened  their  despair  of  obtaining  it. 
 There  were  many  among  their  philosophers 
 themselves,*  who  delivered  it  as  the  result 
 of  their  inquiries,  that  there  is  no  God  in 
 the  world,  and  no  distinction  between  vir¬ 
 tue  and  vice ;  and  even  those  who  had  ap¬ 
 plied  themselves  most  successfully  to  the 
 study  of  religion  and  morals,  confessed  the 
 insufficiency  of  reason  to  lead  them  to  the 
 knowledge  of  many  things,  which  it  highly 
 concerned  them  to  know,  and  wdshed  and 
 hoped,  that  the  Almighty  would  yet  reveal 
 himself  more  fully  to  his  children.  To  the 
 Gentiles,  therefore,  as  well  as  to  the  Jews, 
 this  was  a  season  of  joy ;  for  now  was  the 
 time  come,  when  the  people  who  sab  in 
 darkness  were  to  see  a  great  light.  They 
 whom  philosophy  had  disdained  to  instruct, 
 \vere  henceforth  to  be  taught  of  Heaven. 
 A  teacher  had  appeared  at  last,  by  whom 
 the  doubts  of  nature  were  to  be  removed  ; 
 by  wdiom  the  fears  of  nature  were  to  be 
 
 quieted  ; 
 
42G 
 
 SERMON  xxnr. 
 
 quieted  ;  by  whom  the  hopes  of  nature  were 
 to  be  confirmed  : — the  Messenger  of  peace 
 to  men,  who  was  to  redeem  the  world  from 
 ruin,  by  an  offering  never  to  be  repeated  ; 
 who  was  to  finish  the  reign  of  superstition ; 
 who  was  to  lead  the  trembling  transgressor 
 from  the  altar  stained  with  blood,  and  to 
 show-  him  the  face  of  God  smiling  graci¬ 
 ously  from  on  high.  The  path  of  life  was 
 now  to  be  opened  to  those  who  had  hitherto 
 sought  it  in  vain.  Heaven  itself  was  to  be 
 unveiled,  and  placed  within  the  reach  of 
 all  who  were  willing  to  return  from  their 
 vices,  and  to  seek  for  honour  and  immorta¬ 
 lity^  by  a  patient  continuance  in  well-doing. 
 What  an  auspicious  day  was  this! — Now 
 the  Lord  was  to  arise  out  of  Zion  ;  the  Gen¬ 
 tiles  were  to  come  to  his  light,  and  kings  to 
 the  brightness  of  his  rising  ;  and  all  the  ends 
 of  the  earth  were  to  see  his  salvation. 
 
 But,  let  us  leave  those  ages  of  darkness 
 which  preceded  the  publication  of  Christi¬ 
 anity,  and  consider  more  nearly  the  ad¬ 
 vantages  which  we  ourselves  have  derived 
 from  it.  ^ 
 
 There  is  not  an  evil  incident  to  the  na¬ 
 ture  of  man,  for  which  it  hath  not  pro¬ 
 vided 
 
SERMON  XXIil. 
 
 427 
 
 vided  a  remedy*  What  do  you  need^  my 
 friends,  to  make  you  happy  ?  If  you  place 
 your  happiness  in  the  possession  of  worldly 
 affluence  and  distinction^  you  mistake  the 
 path  to  happiness.  You  seek  it  where  it  is 
 not  to  be  found.  Your  own  observation 
 may  convince  you,  that  this  is  the  case. 
 The  riches  and  the  honours  of  life,  are,  at 
 best^  but  doubtful  advantages.  Those  who 
 Want  them  are  not  always  miserable ;  nor 
 are  those  who  possess  them  always  happy. 
 They  are  accommodations,  indeed,  in  your 
 journey,  which  the  gospel  permits  you  to 
 seek  by  all  fair  and  honourable  means ;  but 
 they  are  blessings  to  those  only  who  acquire 
 them  with  integrity,  who  enjoy  them  with 
 moderation,  and  improve  them  as  instru¬ 
 ments  of  virtue.  The  happiness  of  man 
 consists  in  pleasures  of  a  higher  class.  It 
 consists  in  the  favour  of  God,  in  the  testi¬ 
 mony  of  a  good  conscience,  and  in  the 
 hope  of  immortal  life. 
 
 What  do  you  need,  then,  to  make  you 
 happy  ?  Are  you  placed  in  a  region  of 
 darkness,  far  from  your  father’s  house,  sur¬ 
 rounded  by  the  works  of  God,  yet  unable 
 to  penetrate  the  cloud  which  hides  his  glory 
 (  from 
 
428 
 
 SERMON  XXUh 
 
 from  your  view  ?  Do  you  wish  to  know 
 him  more  perfectly,  that  you  may  serve 
 him  better  ? — This  is  the  most  virtuous  de¬ 
 sire  which  the  heart  of  man  can  form ;  and 
 it  hath  pleased  the  Almighty  to  fulfil  it. 
 You  are  not  left  to  trace  his  perfections  in 
 ail  universe  of  which  you  know  so  little,  or 
 to  investigate  the  plan  of  his  government 
 from  a  system  which  you  see  only  in  part; 
 He  Teho  was  in  the  bosom  of  the  Father  hath 
 declai'ed  him  unto  you.  The  works  of  nature 
 shine  with  a  new  lustre,  by  the  light  which 
 the  gospel  hath  diffused.  God  is  revealed 
 in  all  his  glory ;  the  scheme  of  Providence 
 is  unfolded ;  the  most  mysterious  appear¬ 
 ances  are  explained ;  seeming  evil  is  disco¬ 
 vered  to  be  real  good  ;  and  henceforth  the 
 Christian  knows,  that  the  government,  un¬ 
 der  which  he  lives,  is  a  system  of  perfect 
 order,  in  which  all  things  work  together 
 for  the  happiness  oj  the  virtuous.  Every 
 doubt  is  banished  from  his  mind ;  and  he 
 reposes  in  the  comfortable  thought,  that,  if 
 he  discharge  his  duty  with  fidelity,  all  his 
 other  interests  are  secure. 
 
 Here,  however,  a  second  question  arises, 
 in  the  highest  degree  interesting  to  man. 
 
 You 
 
SERMON  XXIIL 
 
 429 
 
 You  believe  in  God ;  you  feel  your  depend¬ 
 ence  on  his  providence ;  you  are  anxious 
 to  secure  his  favour.  But,  by  what  course 
 of  conduct  shall  the  favour  of  God  be  ob¬ 
 tained  ^  You  wish  to  know  your  duty,  that 
 you  may  perform  it.  If  this  is,  as  it  ought 
 to  be,  the  earnest  desire  of  your  hearts, 
 with  what  gladness  will  you  open  your  eyes 
 to  the  light  which  revelation  imparts !  for 
 you  are  not  left  to  learn  your  duty  from 
 the  suggestions  of  your  own  minds,  which 
 are  so  liable  to  be  perverted  by  passion,  nor 
 from  the  fluctuating  maxims  of  the  world, 
 by  which  so  many  vices  are  allowed.  The 
 law,  which  is  written  on  your  hearts,  is 
 clearly  interpreted  in  the  gospel.  A  Mes¬ 
 senger  from  God  hath  explained  it  in  terms 
 which  you  cannot  misunderstand.  He  hath 
 shewn  thee^  0  man  !  what  is  goody  and  what 
 the  Lord  thy  Cod  requireth  of  thee. — Nor 
 hath  he  only  instructed  you  in  your  duty  ; 
 he  hath  himself  performed  it  before  you. 
 His  example  is  a  living  law,  which  exhibits 
 every  virtue  in  action.  His  footsteps  are 
 still  to  be  seen  in  the  path,  that  leads  to 
 heaven ;  and,  if  you  follow  them  with  a 
 steady  eye,  they  will  conduct  you,  in  inno¬ 
 cence 
 
I 
 
 430  S  E  R  M  O  N  XXIII. 
 
 cence  and  safety,  through  all  the  snares  and 
 temptations  of  your  pilgrimage. 
 
 But,  alas !  the  nature  of  man  needs  other 
 sources  of  consolation.  The  law,  indeed,  is 
 perfect ;  but  who  hath  uniformly  observed 
 it  ?  If  absolute,  unerring  obedience  be  the 
 only  condition  on  which  the  favour  of  God 
 is  to  be  obtained, — we  are  all  undone !  Con¬ 
 sider  your  situation,  then,  in  another  view. 
 You  have  listened,  perhaps,  to  the  voice  of 
 passion ; — ^you  have  yielded  to  the  tempta¬ 
 tions  which  surround  you  ; — ^you  have  done 
 what  you  know  to  be  wrong.  In  the  sea¬ 
 son  of  sober  i*ecollection,  your  transgres¬ 
 sions  rise  in  review  before  you,  and  banish 
 peace  from  your  souls.  What  is  now  to  be 
 done?  You  are  willing  to  forsake  your 
 ^  vices  ;  but  how  shall  you  recover  the  hap¬ 
 piness  which  you  have  lost  ^  Will  the  Dei¬ 
 ty  yet  regard  you  in  mercy  ?  Will  he  listen 
 to  the  prayers  of  those  who  have  nothing 
 but  confessions  ^nd  sorrows  to  offer,  in  place 
 of  the  obedience  that  was  due  to  him  ?  Yes, 
 ye  returning  penitents,  for  you  there  are 
 tidings  of  joy.  To  you  is  bom,,  in  the  city  of 
 David,  a  Saviour,  who  is  Christ  the  Lord. 
 Through  him  your  confessions  and  sorrows 
 
 ascend 
 
SERMON  XXIII. 
 
 431 
 
 ilscend  as  incense  to  heaven.  Through  him, 
 the  God  whom  you  have  offended,  not  only 
 offers  you  forgiveness,  but  beseeches  you  to 
 be  reconciled  to  himself.  Hear  what  the 
 Lord  your  God  will  say :  He  will  speak  peace 
 to  his  saints^  but  let  them  not  return  unto 
 folly.  You  have  only  to  forsake  your  vices. 
 Every  thing  else  is  accomplished.  Your 
 Maker  smiles  on  you  as  in  the  days  of  in¬ 
 nocence,  and  the  gate  of  heaven  is  opened 
 again. 
 
 .  How  reviving  is  this  declaration  to  the 
 soul  that  is  oppressed  and  humbled  by  the 
 sense  of  its  own  unworthiness !  and  what 
 an  animating  motive  is  here  presented  to 
 excite  you  to  repentance  and  amendment ! 
 You  have,  indeed,  an  arduous  task  to  per¬ 
 form  ;  for  even  the  gospel  hath  no  consola¬ 
 tions  to  offer  to  those  who  persist  in  their 
 sins.  You  have  to  enter  anew  on  the  paths 
 of  righteousness ;  to  subdue  those  vicious 
 attachments  by  which  you  have  formerly 
 been  betrayed  into  guilt,  and  to  struggle 
 with  the  same  temptations  which  have  so 
 often  proved  fatal  to  your  innocence. 
 
 But  let  not  the  prospect  discourage  you, 
 ye  who  believe  in  Jesus.  In  the  gospel 
 
 there 
 
432 
 
 SERMON  XXIIL 
 
 there  arc  tidings  of  joy,  to  solace  and 
 strengthen  your  minds.  It  leaves  you  not 
 to  struggle  alone  amidst  the  snares  and  the 
 duties  of  life.  It  reveals  to  you  an  omni¬ 
 potent  arm,  kindly  stretched  out  for  your 
 support.  No  temptation  is  too  powerful  to 
 be  resisted  ;  no  habit  is  too  strong  to  be 
 broken,  by  the  grace  which  your  Master 
 bestows.  Do  your  best,  then,  and  your 
 success  is  sure.  He  who  hath  called  you  to 
 this  glorious  task,  will  himself  assist  you  in 
 performing  it.  He  will  confirm  your  vir¬ 
 tuous  resolutions  ;  he  will  aid  your  gene¬ 
 rous  endeavours  ;  he  will  smooth  the  way 
 in  which  you  walk,  and  lead  you  forward, 
 against  all  opposition,  to  the  perfection  after 
 which  you  aspire. 
 
 Such  is  the  provision  which  the  gospel 
 hath  made  for  the  moral  necessities  of  our 
 nature  ;  and  such  is  the  consolation  which 
 it  affords  in  some  of  the  most  interesting  si¬ 
 tuations  in  which  a  virtuous  mind  can  be 
 placed.  Though  it  had  done  no  more  for 
 our  happiness,  even  on  these  accounts,  the 
 doctrines  which  it  contains  would  well  de¬ 
 serve  to  be  characterized  as  tidings  of  great 
 joy.  But  the  gospel  rests  not  here.  It  also 
 
 provides 
 
SERMON  XXIIL 
 
 433 
 
 provides  a  remedy  for  every  natural  evil 
 that  is  incident  to  the  human  condition^ 
 
 How  many  such  evils  occur  to  embitter 
 the  life  of  man  !  In  a  greater  or  less  degree, 
 you  have  all  experienced  affliction ;  afflic¬ 
 tion  from  bodily  disease,  from  disappoint¬ 
 ment  in  your  worldly  pursuits,  from  the 
 loss  of  friends,  or  from  the  injustice  of  ene¬ 
 mies  :  virtue  itself  affords  you  no  exemp¬ 
 tion  from  calamity,  nor  is  there  any  stage 
 of  your  .pilgrimage  on  earth,  in  which  you 
 can  promise  yourselves  uninterrupted  re¬ 
 pose.  Death  comes  at  last,  indeed,  to  close 
 the  scene  of  woe.  But  what  is  death  itself? 
 Is  death  the  end  of  man  ?  Are  friendship, 
 and  love,  and  virtue,  all  buried  for  ever  in 
 the  grave  ? 
 
 No,  my  friends,  the  gospel  opens  to  you 
 a  better  hope,  to  solace  you  amidst  the  mi¬ 
 series  of  life.  It  leaves  you  not  thus  to  seek, 
 in  the  final  extinction  of  your  being,  your 
 only  refuge  from  affliction  ;  one  who  hath 
 tasted  of  death,  brings  you  tidings  of  joy 
 from  the  grave.  Having  explored  that 
 dreary  region,  he  hath  himself  returned  to 
 assure  you,  that  it  is  not  your  everlasting 
 abode  ;  that  beyond  it  there  are  glorious 
 
 E  e  mansions 
 
434 
 
 SERMON  XXIII. 
 
 mansions,  peopled  with  the  friends  whom 
 you  have  lost,  where  a  place  is  prepared  for 
 your  reception,  atid  to  which,  those  whom 
 you  leave  behind  you  in  the  world,  shall  fol¬ 
 low  you  in  due  season. 
 
 What  a  prospect  is  here  opened  to  chear 
 you  in  the  vale  of  sorrow  !  and  hoW  propi¬ 
 tious  an  appearance  do  the  afflictions  of  life 
 assume,  when  thus  viewed  in  their  just  con¬ 
 nection  with  that  state  of  immortal  felicity 
 to  which  they  are  destined  to  conduct  you  ! 
 Henceforth  call  them  not  evils ;  they  are 
 the  discipline  of  an  affectionate  parent ; 
 they  are  the  means  of  perfecting  your  cha¬ 
 racters  ;  they  are  your  preparation  for  the 
 bliss  of  heaven  ;  and,  if  you  study  to  im¬ 
 prove  them  aright,  you  know,  that,  in  the 
 end,  they  shall  work  out  for  you  an  etei^nal 
 njDtight  of  glory. 
 
 Let  me  ask  you,  once  more,  then,  what 
 do  you  need  to  make  you  happy  ?  There 
 is  not  an  evil  incident  to  human  nature  for 
 which  the  gospel  doth  not  provide  a  reme- 
 dy.  Are  you  ignorant  of  many  things 
 which  it  highly  concerns  you  to  know  ? 
 The  gospel  offers  you  instruction.  Have 
 you  deviated  from  the  path  of  duty  ?  The 
 
 gospel 
 
SERMON  XXIir. 
 
 435 
 
 gospel  offers  you  forgiveness.  Do  tempta¬ 
 tions  surround  you  ?  The  gospel  offers  you 
 the  aid  of  heaven.  Are  you  exposed  to 
 misery  ?  It  consoles  you.  Are  you  subject 
 to  death  ?  It  offers  you  immortality 
 
 It  doth  not,  indeed,  exempt  you  from  the 
 ordinary  distresses  of  life ;  but  it  teaches 
 you  to  rejoice  in  tribulation.  It  doth  not 
 offer  you  wealth  or  distinction  in  the  world  ; 
 but  it  offers  you  that  contentment  of  mind 
 which  will  render  you  happy  in  any  situa¬ 
 tion.  It  offers  you  that  peace  of  God,  which 
 the  world  can  neither  give  nor  take  away. 
 
 The  suitableness  of  this  scheme  of  re¬ 
 ligion  to  the  necessities  of  the  human  con¬ 
 dition,  is  one  of  the  most  striking  evi¬ 
 dences  of  its  divine  original.  The  tidings 
 which  it  publishes,  are  the  most  joyful  that 
 ever  reached  the  ear  of  man.  Yet,  alas ! 
 with  what  indifference  do  we  often  receive 
 them  !  It  is  with  the  blessings  of  Christia¬ 
 nity  as  with  the  ordinary  blessings  of  life ; 
 the  things  which  are  most  essential  to  our 
 happiness,  are  supplied  to  us  so  regularly, 
 and  in  such  rich  abundance,  that  they 
 make  little  impression  on  our  minds.  The 
 sun  arises  on  the  unthankful  and  the  evil. 
 
 We 
 
 E  e  2 
 
436 
 
 SERMON  XXm. 
 
 We  behold  his  light,  and  enjoy  his  influ-^ 
 ences,  with  hardly  any  emotion.  But  were 
 the  sun,  for  one  day,  to  be  withheld  from 
 visiting  the  earth,  what  prayers  would  as¬ 
 cend  to  heaven  I  In  like  manner,  my 
 friends,  the  light  which  the  gospel  imparts, 
 is  shed  even  on  those  who  consider  not 
 whence  it  is  derived  to  them.  By  merely 
 living  in  a  Christian  country,  we  enjoy 
 many  of  those  advantages  which  Christia¬ 
 nity  is  intended  to  convey.  Many  of  the 
 truths  that  are  most  interesting  to  our  hap¬ 
 piness,  we  perceive  with  greater  clearness, 
 and  believe  with  more  assurance,  than  the 
 wisest  and  the  best  of  men,  in  former  ages, 
 could  attain.  But  were  all  the  light  which 
 the  gospel  hath  introduced,  to  be  at  once  re¬ 
 moved  from  the  world,  and  nothing  left  to 
 supply  its  place,  except  the  discoveries  which 
 reason  hath  made  by  its  own  unassisted  ex¬ 
 ertions,  how  comfortless  would  our  condi¬ 
 tion  be ! 
 
 Let  us  beware,  then,  of  despising  this 
 choicest  gift  of  heaven.  Let  us  receive  the 
 truth  in  the  love  of  it ;  and  let  us  remem¬ 
 ber  that  the  consolations  which  the  gospel 
 affords,  are  the  portion  of  those  only,  who 
 
 live 
 
SERMON  XXlir. 
 
 4nf*/ 
 
 O/ 
 
 live  as  the  gospel  requires.  Christianity  was 
 intended  to  reform,  as  well  as  to  solace 
 mankind  ;  and  it  would  be  a  system  un¬ 
 worthy  of  God,  if  it  offered  peace  to  those 
 who  persist  in  the  violation  of  his  laws. 
 
 Think  it  not  enough,  then,  that  you  feel 
 a  transient  emotion  of  gratitude  for  the 
 blessings  which,  as  Christians,  you  en¬ 
 joy.  Think  it  not  enough,  that  you  seek, 
 in  the  doctrines  of  the  gospel,  a  relief  from 
 the  terrors  of  conscience,  or  a  support  a- 
 midst  the  sufferings  of  life.  This  is  a  vain 
 attempt  to  divide  what  God  hath  united, 
 the  comforts  which  religion  affords,  and  the 
 virtues  which  it  is  intended  to  inspire.  The 
 light  which  chears  you  in  your  pilgrimage, 
 is  destined  also  to  guide  you  in  your  path  ; 
 and  it  is  only  by  following  it  with  a  steady 
 eye,  that  you  can  hope  to  proceed  with  joy, 
 or  to  reap  that  immortal  happiness,  which 
 awaits  you  at  the  end  of  your  course. 
 Amen. 
 
 E  e  3 
 
 01^ 
 
ON  OVR  SAVIOUR’S  LAST  IV;0RBS  TO  MARY 
 
 AND  JOHN. 
 
 This  Sermon,  the  last  which  the  Author  ever  preached,  was  delivered 
 in  St  Andrew’s  Church,  a  very  short  time  before  his  death. 
 
 SERMON  XXIV. 
 
 JOHN,  XIX.  Q6.  27- 
 
 When  Jesus  therefore  saw  his  mother  and  the  dis¬ 
 ciple  standing  by,  whom  he  loved,  he  saith  unto 
 his  mother.  Woman,  behold  thy  son.  Then  saith 
 he  to  the  disciple,  Behold  thy  mother:  and from 
 that  hour,  that  disciple  took  her  unto  his  awn 
 home. 
 
 T HE  history  of  the  life  of  Jesus,  is,  in  many 
 respects,  an  interesting  subject  to  his  fol¬ 
 lowers.  It  affords  a  striking  exemplifica¬ 
 tion  of  the  rules  which  he  hath  given  us  for 
 the  regulation  of  our  conduct ;  and  derives 
 many  additional  attractions,  from  the  con¬ 
 sideration  of  the  peculiar  regard  which  we 
 owe  to  so  generous  a  friend. 
 
 3 
 
 The 
 
SERMON  XXIV. 
 
 459 
 
 The  history  of  his  sufferings,  in  particu¬ 
 lar,  hath  a  claim  to  our  most  serious  atten¬ 
 tion.  It  exhibits  his  character  in  the  most 
 trying  circumstances  in  which  human  na¬ 
 ture  can  be  placed  ;  and,  while  it  excites  in 
 us  the  warmest  gratitude  towards  him  who 
 loved  us  unto  the  death,  it  forms  us,  also, 
 to  the  admiration  of  his  virtue,  which  no 
 sufferings  were  able  to  subdue. 
 
 But  we  should  feel  ourselves  less  interest¬ 
 ed  in  his  character,  if  it  displayed  only  that 
 sullen  patience  which  arises  from  insensibi¬ 
 lity  of  heart.  It  is  when  we  consider  him 
 as  a  being  subject  to  human  affections  and 
 passions ;  when  we  see  him  yielding  to 
 those  tender  sympathies  which  are  the 
 sources  of  the  most  delicate  distress ;  it  is 
 then,  that  his  character  is  brought  near 
 to  us ;  we  acknowledge  him  as  our  kins¬ 
 man  and  our  brother  5  we  enter  cordial¬ 
 ly  into  feelings  which  seem  so  congenial 
 to  our  own ;  and  our  admiration  of  his 
 virtue  is  increased,  by  the  compassion 
 which  his  sufferings  excite.  In  such  cir¬ 
 cumstances  as  these,  the  text  presents  him 
 to  our  view.  It  exhibits  him  in  the  awful 
 hour  of  crucifixion,  expiring  amidst  the  in- 
 
 E  e  4  suits 
 
440 
 
 SERMON  XXIV. 
 
 suits  of  his  enemies ;  yet  turning  his  at¬ 
 tention  from  them,  for  a  while,  to  share  in 
 the  sorrows  of  his  friends,  and  performing 
 the  last  office  of  affection  to  a  disciple 
 whom  he  loved  with  peculiar  tenderness, 
 and  to  a  mother  who  was  to  be  left  discon¬ 
 solate  by  his  death. 
 
 The  incident  is  fraught  with  instruction  ; 
 and  I  shall  consider  it,  at  present,  in  the 
 three  following  lights : 
 
 I.  As  a  proof  of  our  Saviour’s  filial  affec¬ 
 tion. 
 
 II.  As  a  proof  of  his  friendship  for  John. 
 
 III.  As  a  proof  of  his  magnanimity  in 
 the  hour  of  death. 
 
 I.  In  the  first  place. — Let  us  consider  this 
 incident  as  a  proof  of  our  Saviour’s  filial  af¬ 
 fection. 
 
 Filial  affection  is  a  sentiment,  natural  to 
 the  human  mind.  It  is  strengthened  by 
 the  sense  of  dependence,  and  by  the  many 
 endearing  expressions  of  attachment  which 
 the  child  receives  from  his  parents.  Their 
 watchful  attention  to  his  feelings ;  their 
 tender  sympathy  with  his  miseries ;  their 
 anxious  wishes  for  his  happiness,  and  their 
 
 3  unwearied 
 
SERMON  XXIV. 
 
 441 
 
 unwearied  labours  to  promote  it ;  their 
 hopes  and  their  fears ;  their  joys  and  their 
 sorrows,  which  seem  all  to  centre  in  him  ; 
 these  are  circumstances,  fitted  to  melt  his 
 heart,  and  to  cherish  in  him  that  mutual 
 love,  which  will  grow  as  his  years  advance. 
 
 Jesus  was  alive  to  all  the  tender  emotions 
 of  the  human  breast.  He  taught  not  that 
 haughty  philosophy  which  would  rise  above 
 the  feelings  of  mortals ;  nor  disdained  the 
 aid  of  those  affections  by  which,  in  this  im¬ 
 perfect  state,  our  virtue  needs  to  be  sup¬ 
 ported.  In  every  relation  of  life  he  felt 
 and  acted  as  a  man ;  and  exhibited  to  his 
 followers  a  pattern  of  all  those  amiable  at¬ 
 tachments,  by  which  nature  hath  united  us 
 to  each  other.  Of  this  we  have  a  striking 
 evidence  in  his  conduct  towards  his  earthly 
 parents.  We  find  him,  in  his  early  years, 
 living  with  them,  in  the  city  of  Nazareth, 
 in  a  state  of  the  most  dutiful  subjection ; 
 rewarding  their  affectionate  care  by  every 
 return  of  obedience  and  love  ;  and  render¬ 
 ing  himself  their  ornament  and  their  com¬ 
 fort,  while  he  daily  increased  in  wisdom, 
 and  in  favour  with  God  and  man. 
 
 In 
 
442 
 
 SERMON  XXIV. 
 
 In  the  first  scenes  of  our  Saviour’s  life, 
 there  were  many  affecting  circumstances 
 which  could  not  fail,  as  often  as  he  recalled 
 them,  to  endear  Mary  to  his  soul.  In  the 
 stable  of  Bethlehem,  she  had  cherished  his 
 infancy  with  a  mother’s  fondest  care  ;  en¬ 
 during,  with  pleasure,  all  the  hardships  of 
 her  condition,  w^hile  she  held,  in  her  en^ 
 raptured  arms,  the  object  of  her  dearest 
 hopes.  For  him  she  had  forsaken  her 
 country  and  her  kindred,  and  become  a  so-  ' 
 journer  in  a  foreign  land,  content  amidst 
 the  fatigues  of  her  journey,  and  the  horrors 
 of  solitude,  if  she  could  hide  him,  in  her 
 affectionate  bosom,  from  the  wrath  of  the 
 jealous  king.  When  afterwards,  on  her 
 departure  from  the  feast  of  the  passover, 
 Jesus  had  tarried  in  the  holy  city,  she  had 
 sought  him  among  her  kinsfolk  with  a  sor¬ 
 rowing  heart ;  and  when,  returning  to  the 
 temple,  she  found  her  child  listening  to  the 
 instructions  of  the  teachers  of  Israel,  she 
 had  expressed  all  the  raptures  of  a  mother’s 
 joy.  These  were  testimonies  of  love,  which 
 the  generous  heart  of  Jesus  could  not  con¬ 
 template  unmoved.  He  felt  what  affection 
 was  due  to  a  parent  whose  happiness  seem¬ 
 ed 
 
SERMON  XXIV. 
 
 443 
 
 cd  thus  to  centre  in  him  ;  and  he  had  stu¬ 
 died,  by  every  mark  of  dutiful  regard,  to 
 sweeten  a  life,  of  which  he  was  the  choicest 
 consolation. 
 
 But  it  is  by  the  distresses  of  those  that 
 are  dear  to  us,  that  our  love  is  brought  to 
 the  test.  Our  sympathy  rises  in  propor¬ 
 tion  to  the  strength  of  our  affection,  and 
 interests  us  most  deeply  in  the  sufferings  of 
 those  to  whom  we  are  most  warmly  at¬ 
 tached. 
 
 The  filial  love  of  Jesus,  'ever  sincere  and 
 ardent,  was  called  forth  with  peculiar  force, 
 by  the  miseries  to  which  Mary  was  now 
 subjected.  Her  condition  was  indeed  most 
 deplorable  and  forlorn.  Her  son,  whom 
 she  now  saw  extended  on  the  cross,  was  the 
 heir  of  the  promise  of  Heaven.'  In  the  pro¬ 
 spect  of  his  introduction  into  the  world,  she 
 had  been  hailed  as  the  favoured  of  the  Lord ; 
 and  religion  conspired  with  nature  to  re¬ 
 commend  him  to  her  tenderest  regard.  An. 
 angel  had  announced  his  birth,  and  a  mul¬ 
 titude  of  the  celestial  host  had  sung  of  the 
 purpose  of  his  advent.  She  had  marked 
 with  maternal  fondness  the  gradual  unfold^ 
 ing  of  his  character  j  she  had  witnessed 
 
 those' 
 
444 
 
 SERMON  XXIV. 
 
 those  mighty  acts  which  declared  him  to  be 
 the  son  of  God,  and  had  often  shed  the  tear 
 of  joy,  while  she  beheld  the  admiring  mul¬ 
 titude  listening  to  his  gracious  words,  or 
 heard  his  power  acknowledged  by  the  dis¬ 
 eased  whom  his  hand  had  healed.  She  saw, 
 in  her  beloved  son,  the  Messiah  of  whom 
 the  prophets  had  spoken,  and  anticipat¬ 
 ed  the  glorious  aera,  when  he  should  re¬ 
 store  his  fallen  family  to  more  than  its 
 ancient  honours ;  when  he  should  shine 
 forth  as  a  light  to  the  Gentiles,  and  the  glo¬ 
 ry  of  Israel  his  people. 
 
 Such  were  the  hopes  of  Mary,  which 
 
 seemed  now  to  be  for  ever  disappointed. 
 
 Pull  of  the  prejudices  of  her  country,  she 
 
 understood  not  the  nature  of  that  kingdom 
 
 which  Jesus  was  destined  to  erect ;  she  knew 
 
 not  that  the  cross  was  the  theatre  on  which 
 
 / 
 
 the  Messiah  was  to  obtain  his  triumph.  She 
 beheld  only  in  that  affecting  scene,  her  son, 
 in  whom  all  the  cares  of  her  life  had  cen¬ 
 tred,  delivered  into  the  hands  of  his  ene¬ 
 mies  j  his  pretensions  refuted ;  his  power 
 subdued,  and  himself  expiring  before  her 
 eyes,  a  victim  to  the  unrelenting  cruelty  of 
 those  who  had  long  thirsted  for  his  blood. 
 
 This 
 
SERMON  XXIV. 
 
 445 
 
 This  was  a  spectacle  fitted  to  rend  a  mo¬ 
 ther’s  heart;  and  they  only  who  know  the 
 extent  of  a  parent’s  affection,  can  conceive 
 what  Mary  felt,  while  her  eyes  were  irre¬ 
 sistibly  fixed  on  a  scene,  which  it  seemed 
 death  to  contemplate,  yet  from  which  she 
 had  not  power  to  retire. 
 
 How  many  tender  ideas  would  now  croud 
 into  her  mind  !  Joseph  her  husband  was 
 no  more.  Jesus,  whose  last  hour  was  come, 
 was  the  only  stay  of  her  wretched  life.  His 
 kindness  had  hitherto  solaced  her,  amidst 
 all  her  other  sorrows.  But  who  would  re¬ 
 main  to  comfort  her,  when  Jesus  should  be 
 numbered  with  the  dead  ^  Hopeless,  un¬ 
 friended,  desolate,  she  was  to  be  left  in  a 
 land  of  strangers,  to  mourn,  unpitied,  and 
 alone,  a  son  and  a  husband  lost !  When 
 •Jesus  beheld  her  misery,  affection  and  pity 
 mingled  in  his  soul.  He  directed  towards 
 her  his  last  languishing  look ;  and,  even 
 yet,  a  beam  of  joy  seemed  to  dart  from  his 
 eye,  when  he  found,  among  the  crowd,  a 
 chosen  friend  to  whom  he  could  intrust  so 
 precious  a  charge.  When  Jesus  saw  his  mo- 
 ther  standing  hy^  and  the  disciple  whom  he 
 loved^  he  said  unto  the  disciple^  Behold  thy 
 
 mother  ; 
 
446 
 
 SERMON  XXIV. 
 
 mother ;  and  he  said  unto  his  mother^  Wo- 
 man^  behold  thy  son. 
 
 II.  Let  us  consider  this  incident  as  a 
 proof  of  our  Saviour’s  friendship  for  John. 
 
 It  hath  been  alleged,  that  the  Christian 
 religion  is  hostile  to  all  those  private  attach¬ 
 ments  which  the  heart  of  man  is  so  prone 
 to  form,  and  which  have  been  considered, 
 in  every  age,  as  the  great  sweeteners  of  hu¬ 
 man  life.  This  aspersion  of  the  enemies  of 
 our  faith,  hath  been  admitted  by  some  of 
 its  injudicious  friends ;  and  men  who  wish¬ 
 ed  well  to  the  cause  of  Christianity,*  suppos¬ 
 ing,  without  due  examination,  that  friend¬ 
 ship  is  inconsistent  with  its  spirit,  have  en¬ 
 deavoured  to  vindicate  the  wisdom  of  its 
 author,  in  checking  all  those  particular  af¬ 
 fections,  which  form  so  capital  a  branch  of 
 the  ancient  systems  of  morality. 
 
 But  the  considerate  Christian  will  not 
 hastily  assent  to  a  doctrine  which  represents 
 his  religion  in  so  unamiable  a  light ;  nor 
 believe,  without  the  most  satisfying  reasons, 
 that  a  system,  so  benevolent  as  the  gospel, 
 excludes  its  professors  from  pleasures  so  pure 
 
 and 
 
SERMON  XXIV. 
 
 447 
 
 and  virtuous  as  those  which  arise  from  the 
 union  of  kindred  hearts. 
 
 It  must  be  acknowledged,  indeed,  that 
 private  friendship  is  not  enforced  on  the 
 Christian  by  any  particular  precept  of  the 
 gospel.  Nor  was  it  proper  that  it  should  ; 
 for  private  friendship,  however  its  merits 
 and  advantages  may  have  sometimes  been 
 justly  extolled,  cannot  surely  be  regarded 
 as  a  virtue  on  which  our  immortal  interests 
 depend.  It  is  a  connection  founded  on  cir¬ 
 cumstances,  which  are  often  in  a  great  mea¬ 
 sure  accidental,  and  which  may  not  always 
 concur,  in  the  lot  even  of  the  worthiest  of 
 men.  It  requires  a  correspondence  of  dis¬ 
 positions  ^  and  sentiments,  which  is  rarely 
 to  be  found  ;  and  though  the  duties  which 
 friendship  imposes  on  those  between  whom 
 it  is  established,  are  duties  of  the  strictest 
 obligation,  yet  it  is  conceivable  that  a  virtu¬ 
 ous  person  may  be  destined  to  pass  through 
 life,  without  ever  meeting  with  any  one  to 
 whom  he  shall  be  disposed  to  attach  him¬ 
 self  by  so  close  and  tender  a  tie.  Where- 
 ever  the  proper  circumstances  concur,  the 
 mind  of  man  is,  of  itself,  sufficiently  prone 
 to  enter  into  such  relations  as  these ;  and 
 
 we 
 
41S 
 
 SERMON  XXIV. 
 
 we  need  less  to  be  exhorted  to  yield  to  thi^ 
 propensity  of  nature,  than  to  be  warned  of 
 the  inconveniences  and  miseries  which  may 
 arise  from  indulging  it  to  excess.  The  dan¬ 
 ger  is,  that  our  more  particular  attachments 
 may  tend  to  contract  and  corrupt  our 
 hearts;  to  narrow  the  circle  of  our  bene¬ 
 volence  ;  to  reconcile  us  to  the  errors  and 
 the  vices  of  our  friends,  and  to  alienate  us 
 from  the  rest  of  mankind.  The  author  of 
 our  religion  was  thoroughly  acquainted  with 
 the  various  workings  of  the  human  mind  ; 
 and  the  more  accurately  we  consider  his 
 precepts,  the  greater  reason  shall  we  find, 
 to  admire  the  wisdom  by  which  they  are 
 dictated.  Whatever  nature  herself  could 
 accomplish,  he  left  it  to  nature  to  perform ; 
 and  where  nature  was  prone  to  transgress, 
 there  he  placed  the  guard  of  his  law.  He 
 knew,  that  without  the  aid  of  any  special 
 injunction,  his  followers  would  be  suffi¬ 
 ciently  disposed  to  enter  into  those  more 
 private  associations  which  arise  from  a  si¬ 
 milarity  of  temper,  or  an  union  of  inte¬ 
 rests,  and  which  often  prove  so  rich  a  source 
 of  comfort  to  those  between  whom  they 
 subsist.  The  object  of  his  religion  was  ra¬ 
 ther 
 
SERMON  XXIV. 
 
 44.9 
 
 ther  to  enlarge  the  sphere  of  our  beneli- 
 cence  ;  to  restrain  such  partial  regards  as  are 
 apt  to  engross  the  heart ;  to  abolish  those 
 little  distinctions,  which,  while  they  beget 
 an  excessive  attachment  to  a  few,  engender 
 hatred  against  many ;  and  to  establish  among 
 all  classes  of  men,  a  general  intercourse  of 
 kindness. 
 
 But  while  Christianity  thus  prescribes  and 
 enforces  an  universal  love  of  mankind,  it  is 
 no  enemy  to  any  particular  affections  which 
 are  consistent  with  the  general  good.  It 
 opens,  indeed,  an  extensive  field  in  which 
 our  charity  may  range ;  but  in  this  field 
 there  are  some  particular  spots  which  are 
 intrusted  to  our  peculiar  care,  and  in  which 
 we  are  permitted  to  take  peculiar  delight. 
 Parents  and  children,  husbands  and  wives, 
 and  all  whom  nature  or  inclination  hath 
 united  in  any  of  the  stricter  bonds  of  life, 
 are  required  to  shew  to  one  another  more 
 than  an  ordinary  degree  of  attachment ; 
 and  though  the  gospel  contains  no  special 
 precept  by  which  the  exercise  of  private 
 friendship  is  enforced,  yet  the  dispositions 
 which  the  gospel  is  intended  to  form,  have, 
 of  themselves,  a  tendency  to  prepare  us  for 
 
 F  f  entering 
 
450 
 
 SERMON  XXIV. 
 
 entering  into  that  amiable  relation  ;  and  the 
 virtues  which  the  gospel  requires  us  to  cul¬ 
 tivate,  are  the  most  likely  means  of  main¬ 
 taining  and  sweetening  the  intercourse  of 
 friends. 
 
 But  that  we  might  not  have  room  to 
 doubt  whether  the  exercise  of  private  friend¬ 
 ship  be  consistent '  with  the  spirit  of  the 
 gospel,  we  are  taught  that  our  Saviour  him-r 
 self  was  alive  to  this  tender  sentiment. 
 
 Of  this  we  have  a  striking  example  in  his 
 conduct  towards  his  favourite  disciple.  To 
 all  his  followers,  indeed,  Jesus  performed 
 the  office  of  a  generous  and  indulgent  Mas¬ 
 ter.  But  there  was  one  whom  he  distin¬ 
 guished  above  the  rest,  by  many  peculiar 
 marks  of  regard.  He  approved  of  the  ar¬ 
 dent  zeal  of  Peter;  he  was  attached  to 
 James  as  his  kinsman ;  but  the  dispositions 
 of  John  accorded  with  his  own,  and  be 
 honoured  him  with  the  name  of  a  friend. 
 The  sweetness  of  his  temper,  the  gentleness 
 of  his  manners,  and  that  sincere  and  unaf¬ 
 fected  benevolence  which  appeared  in  all 
 his  words  and  actions,  and  which  his  writ¬ 
 ings  so  illustriously  display these  circum¬ 
 stances  could  not  fail  to  endear  this  disciple 
 
 to 
 
SERMON  XXIV. 
 
 45  i 
 
 to  Jesus,  and  to  unite  their  kindred  hearts 
 in  the  strictest  bonds  of  love.  Accord¬ 
 ingly,  the  scriptures  furnish  us  with  many 
 instances  of  our  Saviour’s  peculiar  attach¬ 
 ment  to  John.  In  the  night  in  which  Jesus 
 foretold  the  treachery  by  which  he  was  soon 
 to  suffer,  it  was  John  whom,  in  preference 
 to  the  other  disciples,  he  permitted  to  sit 
 by  his  side,  and  to  recline  on  his  affection¬ 
 ate  bosom,  as  if  on  purpose  to  alleviate  the 
 sorrow  which  tidings  so  unexpected  and 
 dismal  would  excite  in  the  breast  of  his 
 friend.  It  is  John  who  is  so  often  described 
 as  the  disciple  whom  Jesus  loved ;  and  the 
 incident  recorded  in  the  text,  is  a  proof  of 
 that  peculiar  affection  by  which  his  Master 
 had  uniformly  distinguished  him. 
 
 Death  is  the  season  which  brings  our 
 affection  to  the  test.  In  a  period  so  full  of 
 anxiety,  when  we  are  about  to  be  separated 
 from  the  world,  and  from  those  for  whom, 
 more  than  for  any  other  worldly  object, 
 we  would  wish  our  days  to  be  prolonged, — 
 to  whom  do  we  intrust  the  care  of  our 
 dearest  earthly  interests  ?  Whom  do  we 
 choose  as  the  guardian  of  the  family,  which 
 we  are  unwilling  to  leave  disconsolate,  as 
 
 F  f  2  the 
 
452 
 
 SERMON  XXIV. 
 
 the  husband  of  a  helpless  widow,  and  the 
 parent  of  our  fatherless  children  ?  It  is  not 
 the  gay  companion  with  whom  we  have 
 passed  the  convivial  hour,  nor  the  man 
 with  whom  we  are  connected  by  no  tie 
 but  that  of  blood.  It  is  the  friend  whose 
 affection  we  have  long  experienced — the 
 friend  that  sticketh  closer  than  a  brother, 
 into  whose  ear  we  were  wont  to  pour  the 
 secrets  that  were  hid  from  the  world,  and 
 whose  sympathy  was  the  blessing  of  our 
 lives,  amidst  joys  in  which  the  world  could 
 not  share,  and  griefs  which  the  world  would 
 not  pity. 
 
 Such  was  the  friendship  of  John.  He 
 had  long  been  distinguished  as  the  favour¬ 
 ite  disciple  of  Jesus ;  and  his  conduct,  on 
 this  trying  occasion,  proved  him  worthy  of 
 the  name  which  he  bore.  When  at  first, 
 indeed,  our  Saviour  was  apprehended  by 
 his  enemies,  he  had  yielded  to  the  weak¬ 
 ness  of  humanity,  and,  like  the  other  dis¬ 
 ciples,  had  sought  to  save  himself  by  flight 
 from  the  destruction  in  which  he  was  about 
 to  be  involved.  But  his  affection  soon  re¬ 
 turned,  and  inspired  him  with  courage  to 
 follow  his  persecuted  Lord.  It  is  probably 
 
 3  he 
 
SERMON  XXIV. 
 
 453 
 
 he  whom  the  scriptures  mention  as  being 
 a  spectator  of  our  Saviour’s  trial,  in  the 
 scene  of  Peter’s  guilt ;  and,  in  the  hour  in 
 which  Jesus  suffered,  he,  alone  of  all  the 
 disciples,  is  found  standing  at  the  foot  of 
 the  cross,  that  his  Master,  in  the  last  mo¬ 
 ments  of  his  life,  might  not  want  an  affec¬ 
 tionate  friend  on  whom  he  might  fix  his 
 languishing  eye^  and  to  whom  he  might 
 commit  the  cares  which  depressed  his  de¬ 
 parting  spirit.  The  care  which  was  com¬ 
 mitted  to  John,  was  a  care  with  which  a 
 friend  alone  could  be  intrusted ;  and  the 
 fidelity  with  which  he  executed  it,  proved 
 him  worthy  of  that  sacred  name.  Jesus 
 Said  to  the  disciple,  behold  thy  mother  ;  and 
 to  his  mother,  behold  thy  son :  and  from  that 
 hour  the  disciple  took  her  to  his  own  home. 
 
 V 
 
 III.  In  the  last  place,  let  us  consider  this 
 incident  as  a  proof  of  our  Saviour’s  forti¬ 
 tude  in  the  hour  of  death. 
 
 Death  is  a  scene  through  which  all  are 
 destined  to  pass ;  and  in  which,  to  conduct 
 ourselves  with  becoming  dignity,  requires 
 an  extraordinary  effort'  of  virtue.  The  na¬ 
 tural  love  of  life,  our  attachment  to  our 
 
 F  f  .S  earthly 
 
454 
 
 SERMON  XXIV. 
 
 earthly  friends,  and  the  prospect  of  that 
 just  retribution  which  awaits  us  in  a  future 
 state, — all  conspire  to  distress  and  to  alarm 
 the  departing  spirit,  and  occasion  many  a 
 painful  conflict,  when  we  are  called  to  re¬ 
 tire  from  the  world.  We  admire  the  man, 
 who,  in  that  trying  hour,  can  restrain  the 
 weakness  of  grief,  and  possess  his  soul  in 
 patience,  and  resign  himself  meekly  to  the 
 will  of  Heaven.  But  the  fortitude  which, 
 in  so  solemn  a  season,  it  becomes  us  to  dis¬ 
 play,  is  of  the  calm  and  temperate  kind — a 
 fortitude  arising  from  the  recollection  of  a 
 virtuous  life,  and  the  joyful  hope  of  im¬ 
 mortality. 
 
 There  is  a  desperate  and  outrageous  bold¬ 
 ness  which  the  wicked  sometimes  assume, 
 in  order- to  stifle  their  fears,  or  to  conceal 
 them  from  the  observation  of  their  bre¬ 
 thren.  There  is  a  levity  with  which  others 
 adventure  to  treat  the  approach  of  death, 
 which  is  in  the  highest  degree  indecent  and 
 irrational.  There  have  been  men,  who, 
 having  passed  their  days  in  the  open  pro¬ 
 fession  of  infidelity,  have  gloried,  that,  in 
 the  last  moments  of  life,  they  could  deride 
 those  doctrines  of  religion  which  are  the 
 
 ^  choicest 
 
SERMON  XXIV. 
 
 455 
 
 choicest  consolation  of  the  dying.  This  is 
 not  the  fortitude  which  the  Christian  will 
 be  desirous  to  exhibit.  The  bare  possibility 
 of  a  future  existence  renders  the  boldness 
 of  the  wicked  extravagant ;  nor,  even  though 
 this  possibility  were  removed,  can  the  event 
 which  must  sink  him  into  annihilation,  be 
 a  Reasonable  subject  of  triumph  to  the  in¬ 
 fidel. 
 
 The  Christian  hath  a  hope  to  support 
 him,  to  which  the  wicked  and  the  infidel 
 are  strangers ;  and  his  magnanimity,  in  the 
 hour  of  death,  is  a  rational  principle  of 
 conduct,  being  founded  on  the  firm  expec¬ 
 tation  of  a  better  life  to  come. 
 
 But,  in.  a  season  so  interesting  as  this, 
 bow  doth  it  become  us  to  display  the  con¬ 
 stancy  of  our  souls  ?  There  have  been  men, 
 who,  in  the  day  of  their  departure,  have 
 gladdened  the  hearts  of  their  friends,  by 
 many  a  pious  profession  of  resignation  to 
 the  will  of  God,  and  many  a  rapturous  an¬ 
 ticipation  of  the  happiness  reserved  in  hea¬ 
 ven.  Now,  resignation  to  the  will  of  God, 
 and  anticipations  of  future  happiness,  are 
 emotions  suited  to  the  condition  of  the 
 dying  j  and  it  is  well,  if  such  emotions  are 
 
 felt 
 
456 
 
 SERMON  XXIY. 
 
 felt  at  a  time  when  we  need  so  much  the 
 consolation  which  they  are  fitted  to  afford. 
 
 But  it  is  an  evidence,  more  decisive  than 
 even  these,  of  a  soul  that  is  prepared  to  de¬ 
 part,  if  we  possess  that  composure  of  spirit 
 which  enables  us  to  turn  our  attention,  for 
 a  while,  from  ourselves,  and  to  discharge 
 our  last  offices  to  those  whom  we  are  about 
 to  leave  on  the  earth.  Such  was  the  death 
 of  Jesus.  In  the  awful  hour  of  his  cruci¬ 
 fixion,  he  had  to  struggle  with  a  complica¬ 
 tion  of  miseries,  the  very  history  of  which 
 is  almost  sufficient  to  overwhelm  the  soul. 
 Delivered  into  the  hands  of  his  enemies ; 
 charged  with  crimes  which  in  his  heart  he 
 abhorred ;  devoted  to  an  ignominious  death, 
 the  punishment  of  the  vilest  offenders;  and 
 basely  deserted  by  those  from  whom  he 
 might  have  expected  a  steadier  friendship; 
 he  is  left  to  expire  amidst  the  insults  of  a 
 barbarous  multitude,  whom  neither  his  in¬ 
 nocence  nor  his  sufferings  could  melt  into 
 pity. 
 
 Yet  he  yields  not  to  the  weakness  of  sor¬ 
 row.  He  neither  murmurs  against  the  pro¬ 
 vidence  of  heaven,  nor  expresses  the  small¬ 
 est  resentment  against  those  who  were  em- 
 
 bruing 
 
SERMON  XXIV. 
 
 457 
 
 bruing  their  hands  in  his  blood.  He  suf¬ 
 fers  not  his  soul  to  be  engrossed  by  the 
 thought  of  his  own  personal  distresses,  but 
 discovers  a  heart  which  is  still  alive  to  the 
 exercise  of  every  generous  affection,  and  a 
 mind  which  no  adversity  can  disqualify  for 
 the  discharge  of  its  duty.  He  turns  froni 
 himself  for  a  while  ;  he  enters  with  tender 
 sympathy  into  the  feelings  of  his  sorrowing 
 friends ;  and  seems  to  forget  the  rage  of 
 his  enemies  and  the  ignominy  of  the  cross, 
 while  he  performs,  to  his  disconsolate  mo¬ 
 ther,  the  last  office  of  filial  love. 
 
 Such  is  the  death  which  the  Christian, 
 will  be  ambitious  to  die.  While  he  resigns 
 his  departing  spirit  into  the  hands  of  his 
 faithful  Creator,  and  solaces  his  soul  with 
 the  prospect  of  future  and  immortal  bliss, 
 he  will  omit  no  useful  office  by  which  he 
 can  hope  to  minister  to  the  comfort  of  his 
 earthly  friends.  He  will  adjust  every  world¬ 
 ly  interest  that  might  embarrass  those  who 
 are  to  survive  him.  He  will  provide  for 
 his  family  a  protector  who  may  supply  his 
 place  when  he  is  gone ;  nor  will  he  bid 
 them  the  last  adieu,  till  he  hath  comforted 
 their  sorrowing  hearts,  and  warned  them  of 
 
 the 
 
458 
 
 SERMON  XXIV. 
 
 the  snares  of  life,  and  blessed  them  with  a 
 father’s  blessing,  and  commended  them  to 
 the  care  of  that  God,  who  is  the  husband 
 of  the  widow,  and  the  stay  of  the  orphan. 
 
 How  full  of  instruction  is  this  tender  in¬ 
 cident  in  our  Saviour’s  life  ! — Learn  from 
 this  incident, .  ye  children,  the  affection 
 which  you  owe  to  your  parents ;  and  study, 
 by  every  mark  of  obedience  and  love,  to 
 sweeten  the  lives  of  those  whose  happiness 
 centres  in  you. 
 
 Learn  from  this  incident,  the  inestimable 
 value  of  a  friend.  A  faithful  friend  is  the 
 medicine  of  life.  His  sympathy  enlivens 
 every  joy,  and  alleviates  every  sorrow.  A-r 
 midst  the  rudest  assaults  of  adversity,  we 
 find  a  refuge  in  his  affectionate  bosom  ; 
 and  to  him,  even  in  the  hour  of  dissolu¬ 
 tion,  we  can  commit  the  last  tender  cares 
 that  oppress  our  departing  spirits ;  and  con¬ 
 fide  in  him  as  the  guardian  of  our  family, 
 and  of  every  interest  that  is  dear  to  us  on 
 earth. 
 
 Learn  from  this  incident,  also,  how  it 
 becomes  the  Christian  to  die.  Display  your 
 magnanimity  in  that  trying  scene,  not  by 
 an  indecent  levity  of  manner  nor  by  any 
 
 ostentatious 
 
SERMON  XXIV. 
 
 459 
 
 ostentatious  professions  of  fortitude,  but 
 by  that  calmness  and  recollection  of  mind 
 which  is  alive  to  every  good  emotion,  and 
 prepared  for  every  useful  office.  Testify 
 your  affection  for  your  friends,  while  you 
 express  your  resignation  to  Heaven  ;  and 
 suffer  neither  the  terrors  of  dissolution,  nor 
 even  the  prospect  of  future  bliss,  so  com¬ 
 pletely  to  engross  your  souls,  as  to  make 
 you  forget  your  duty  to  the  world  from 
 which  ycu  are  about  to  retire. 
 
 To  conclude _ Learn,  from  the  example 
 
 of  Johr,  how  it  becomes  you  to  honour 
 the  memory  of  a  valued  friend.  Jesus,  in 
 the  last  hour  of  his  life,  committed  Mary 
 to  the  care  of  John ;  and  from  that  hour 
 John  Uok  her  to  his  own  home. 
 
 Hati  death  torn  from  your  embrace  the 
 friend  whom  you  tenderly  loved — him  to 
 whoiT  you  was  wont  to  unbosom  the  se¬ 
 crets  of  your  souls — him  who  was  your 
 counsllor  in  perplexity,  the  sweetener  of 
 ally  cur  joys,  and  the  assuager  of  all  your 
 sorrovs  ?  You  think  that  you  do  well  to 
 mourn  ;  and  the  tears  with  which  you  wa¬ 
 ter  hs  grave,  seem  to  be  a  tribute  due  to 
 his  vrtues.  But  waste  not  your  affection 
 
 in 
 
460 
 
 sermon  xxiv. 
 
 in  fruitless  lamentations.  That  grief  may 
 profit  the  living  whkh  can  be  of  no  avail  to 
 the  dead.  Think  what  were  the  last  anxious 
 wishes  of  him  whose  depaiiaire  you  bewail. 
 Could  he  speak  to  you  from  the  silence  of 
 the  tomb,  he  would  point  to  his  widow  and 
 his  children,  beseeching  you  to  express  to 
 these  the  love  which  you  bear  to  |iim.  The 
 interests  of  these  were  ever  dear  tl  his  soul. 
 To  cherish  and  to  sweeten  their  Uistence, 
 was  the  choicest  care  of  his  life^  and  in 
 death  he  comforted  himselfwith  thethought, 
 that,  in  every  one  whom  his  kindiess  had 
 attached  to  him,  they  should  find  alprotec- 
 tor  and  a  stay. — Disappoint  not  tie  fond 
 expectation  with  which  he  solaced  his  ex¬ 
 piring  spirit ;  but,  while  you  dweS  with 
 affection  on  the  remembrance  of  wkat  he 
 was,  testify  that  your  affection  is  spcere, 
 by  fulfilling  the  last  desire  of  his  heaij,  and 
 the  hope  with  which  he  departed  in  jeace. 
 
 FINIS. 
 
 C.  Stewart,  Printer,  Edinburgh.  ' 
 
'I'-. 
 
 •1  ■ 
 
 .MJ' 
 
 P‘ 
 
 ) 
 
 Ht 
 
 ( 
 
 !HcJ.  . 
 
•  If » 
 
 >  I 
 
 .4- 
 
 >> 
 
 / 
 
 '  »■ 
 
 ■‘A 
 
 >.r.< ■